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vase-of-lilies · 8 months

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❀ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Bunny Hybrid!Reader (F)

❀ Non-con, dubcon, use of a cage, captivity + using restraints, violence, mind manipulation/putting someone in a daze, guys - fun fact; ivory was chiseled and made into a dildo in the 1800’s. So, expect that lol, and more. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with very dark elements.

❀ I am usually good with warning everything that is in my stories, but this time due to limited space and a lot of warnings, I will be only doing the harsher warnings.

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetic and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to who made the pictures in the banner as well.

❀ Sigh… I feel like all of these are the same, just a little different each time. I try to change it up, but a lot of these are similar in plot, description, and ending. I want these to turn out well, but I can’t help but feel that people don’t like them because they don’t comment on them or give feedback. All I want is a funny comment, a detailed comment about something someone loved about the story, or something that they were confused about or just thought was plain stupid of Y/n. All I want is feedback!

Hunting season. It was the worst time of year for the bunny hybrids, yet still, you were picking berries in a bright dress your mother made you. You knew it was dangerous. However, you knew that you were fast and agile like a real bunny. But even the fastest rabbit couldn’t beat the slowest tortoise because of the overconfidence each little rabbit held in their little head.

While you gathered the berries into your basket, you hummed to yourself, not a thought in your mind. Every now and then, your tail would twitch, something it does when you are doing something you love or when you are scared. But you loved gathering, and you were not currently scared.

Your humming immediately stops when you hear the straining of an arrow in a bow. It was a creaky sound that every bunny could recognize. Your ears shot straight up, your head turning in all directions to try and find the source of the hunter. One last turn and it was too late; the bounce of the bowstring snapping back into place came first, then the pain of the arrow piercing through your shoulder blade.

Falling to the ground, you frown as your berries scatter around you. You can hardly think while you scramble into the bush in front of you, holding your ears against your head so you don’t bring more attention to yourself. Your body trembles, rustling the brush you are hiding in, and you silently curse yourself at your shaking.

“Here, little bunny… come out, come out wherever you are!” A voice taunts from outside the bush. You see the boots of your pursuer from where you crouch inside the bush, whimpering as the arrow in your back snags on a branch.

The footsteps stop and turn towards the bush. You freeze, and your ears slip from your hands, rustling the bush even more. The hunter steps up to the bush, and she spots your gray ears. With a smirk, she reaches into the shrub and grasps them in her hands tightly, causing you to tumble from the bush and onto the ground.

Blood streamed down your back, and you tried to crawl away, only for the hunter to chuckle and reach in her pouch for something else. You look behind you, screaming as she stalks closer to you, a tranquilizer dart in her hand.

“Come on, little bunny. Don’t make this difficult,” She says, kneeling beside your pitiful form. As you beg her not to hurt you, she ignores you, pushing your head to the side and exposing your neck. “Stay still, and this won’t hurt!” She shouts at you, still struggling to get you to calm down. As the dart comes closer to your neck, you struggle even more, but she is powerful and quick.

The needle punctures your skin, and the tranquilizer enters your blood flow within seconds. It was initially slow, just a little dizzy, so you tried to get up. The pain in your back was the least of your worries, only getting away from the hunter on your mind. But the drug was working fast, and soon, you found yourself on the ground again, your eyes closing and your mind succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~

Wanda smirks as you finally fall unconscious in front of her, your fuzzy ears flopping onto the ground with a soft thump. Your fluffy little tail was twitching again, terrified of what would happen. Wanda kneels down by your sleeping body and moves the hair from in front of your face. “You’re gonna be my perfect little pet, aren’t you?” She gently brushes her fingers over the skin of your cheek and smiles at your breaths.

Laying a small blanket over your body, she picks you up and takes you home to assess your injuries. As she enters her home, she shuts the door and lays you on her bed. She frowns at the arrow that sticks from your back and gently tries to pull it out. You whimper, the drug unfortunately not numbing the pain.

Wanda sighs softly and grabs her knife, slowly cutting the skin surrounding the arrow. She dabs the wound with a small cloth as it starts to bleed again, and once the last line matching the shape of the arrow is carved, the arrow slides out of your back with ease. Reaching for the first aid kit, she unties your dress and slips it off your body, dressing your wound and healing some of it with her powers. She leaves you in the right amount of pain to become submissive to her, but enough that your death will not be on her hands.

Tying the last bandage around your chest and under your arms, she lays you on your back and grabs the chain connected to a metal collar from under the bed. She sets it on the bed next to you and goes to the closet to bring the cage out. She smirks at the bars, knowing you will never escape from her.

Lastly, she connects the chain to the cage's base and looks over at you on her bed. She sets the collar on top of the kennel and saunters over to your naked form. She ghosts her fingers down your belly and the mound between your legs. Shaking her head, she knows she wants to wait until you are awake to hold your wiggling ears while you struggle to escape her. She loves it when her prey struggles in her hands; it sparks something inside of her.

Picking you up again, she carries you to the cage in the corner of the room, opening the door and laying you down against the thin-blanketed bottom and laying your head against the straw pillow set at the top of the cage. Before locking you up for the night, she grabbed the collar and clasped it around your neck, matching the holes together at the back and looping a padlock around it. With the collar secured around your neck, the chain connected to the bars, and the moon rising, Wanda locked the cage and put a blanket over the top to cover the whole thing, leaving you in complete darkness.

~~~~~~~

When morning approached, your body started to wake up first. Your mind was still hazy, and you felt like you were in a dream. Your ears moved slightly, your tail wiggled just a little, and your eyes moved under their lids.

It was raining. You could hear the raindrops outside. Outside where? Where am I? Your curiosity turns to concern the moment your eyes finally open. A dark, furry blanket covers the bars surrounding you, dimming the light almost completely. You try sitting up, but the pressure you put on your arm makes you whimper in pain. The arrow wound on your back was the only thing revealing where you were.

The tranquilizer made you sleep, but it didn’t make you forget. You remembered where you were, and you remembered who you were with. That damned human. A simple hum or chuckle could force you into submission instantly, knowing what Wanda is capable of. She has the eye of a hawk when it comes to aiming her bow at the poor little creature she sets her sights on.

Your soft ears twitched at the sound of shuffling from outside of the covered cage, pulling your attention away from the pain in your shoulder blade. Wandas walking caused the blanket to flutter, and your instinct was to lay back down and pretend you were asleep still. You wrapped your arms around your exposed body the best you could, closed your eyes and waited.

In anticipation, your leg started shaking, as well as your tail. The little ball of fluff just above your bum was a radar for danger. If it wiggled, twitched, shifted, or moved an inch, you could sense danger was near. This was a time when your tail was not wrong. Not by one bit.

There was a soft knock on the bars above you, but you didn't move. Another one, this time a little forceful- still, you did not move to 'wake up.'

"Little bunny… I know you're awake. You're shaking this whole damn thing." Wanda laughed softly at the shivering cage before her, your anxious body practically causing an earthquake around you. Your hands went to the collar around your neck, and a tear fell from your eye onto the pillow below your cheek. I'm not getting out of here.

Wanda pulled the blanket from the top of the cage and looked down at you, curled into a little ball with your fluffy ears over your face. "Oh, come on, don't hide from me," She says, kneeling in front of your prison. Aggravated, she grabs the chain connected to your collar and pulls, forcing your face to come right to the bars.

A whimper escapes your throat, and your eyes stare up at Wanda with fear. She smiles sweetly at you, her pearly white teeth giving you a shite-eating grin. “I know you're scared,” she says, holding the chain tighter. In response to your desperate attempts at escaping the collar, Wanda laughs. She leans in, her breath brushing against your face. “But don't worry,” she whispers. “I'll take good care of you.”

Your face flushed with tears, and you began to speak in a trembling voice, "I wanna go home; my momma will be worried about me." You thought of your mother, who would be excited to see you and looking forward to the pie she made for you. You missed her embrace and the warmth of her love. You wished to return, see her smile, and feel her passion. You closed your eyes and thought about what it would be like to be home.

"Don't you dare close your eyes," growls Wanda, causing you to open them wide. She looked at you with dilated pupils, clearly craving something. Something only you could give her.

She finally releases the chain attached to your collar, causing you to fall back into the cage. You push yourself against the back of the cage, trying to distance yourself from Wanda as the pain in your back intensifies. With a chuckle, Wanda opens the door and reaches for the chain to pull you out. Yanking you out of the cage, you fall to your hands and knees, forced to crawl forward to her.

Once you get into an arm's length of her, she grabs your ears and pulls you to her. You yelp, trying to cover yourself, but keep yourself up too. You can't feel much pain from your ears, but as she pulls you closer to her, the fear builds up in your belly, and you pull back. Failing, she wraps her arms around you and holds you against her chest. The chain is long enough to reach her bed, so as she picks you up, the chain drags behind you. You kick your legs and try maneuvering your way out of her arms, your body only being hugged tighter.

As Wanda sits on the bed, she holds you in her lap. Her body is much larger than yours, as your hybrid genes make you smaller than humans. She only needed one hand over your belly to hold you still, your legs being pinned open by hers. Her other hand roams your naked chest, tweaking each nipple in her fingers. She buries her nose into your soft ears and hums as she feels your little cotton tail rub against her clothed cunt.

You whimper and throw your head back any chance, but Wanda is quick. The chain is already in her hand, pulling it up and choking you. You cough, your hands going to your neck, trying to find the chain to pull down. Your strength is nothing compared to Wanda's; her chuckles fill your ears again.

Your breaths are short and shallow, and the lack of oxygen getting to your brain becomes dangerous. Your vision starts to cloud, and Wanda notices, giving the chain some slack. "You aren't going out on me just yet," she whispers in your ear. On the bedside table, she grabs a ring of rope she had put there earlier. Grabbing your wrists, she wraps the rope around a couple of times and ties a firm knot after. She then pulls the excess cord to keep your hands next to your chest, exposing your pussy.

She smiles against your neck, and her teeth nip at your sensitive skin. "Mmm, my little bun bun, so soft and cute," She whispers again, "I am going to do nasty things to you, and you are going to like it..."

Pulling your hands above your head, she wraps the rope through your collar to keep them still.

With her hands now free, she cups both breasts, kneading the ample skin and pinching your nipples every second. You whimper as salty tears stream down your cheeks, only fueling Wanda to do more. Her hand moves down your belly to your wet petals, waiting to be played with. As her other hand follows, her fingers spread your folds to expose your quivering clit.

Even though Wanda could not see your pussy, she loved how it felt. "So fuckin' wet, and its all for me, isn't it?" You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to fall into whatever trap she had set. Her index finger slowly rubs your clit in small circles, the burning of your bundle of nerves causing you to whimper and jolt. She holds you tighter, smirking at the warmth of the skin around your bud.

Her lips press soft kisses to your head as she rubs your clit more, her other hand prodding at your hole. A breath is stolen from you as she enters two fingers into your pussy, pumping slowly. You cringe at the squelching you hear, and your legs instinctively try to close, but Wanda's legs hold them open. You reluctantly lay your head against her chest, your ears falling limp against your head.

Wanda quickly jumped on the opportunity to hold your head up by your ears, pulling them to hold your head up straight. Wanda's fist clenched your ears tightly, not letting go as you tried to tear yourself away from her.

As she rubbed your clit faster, your orgasm approached more quickly than expected. Your pulsing pussy squeezes her fingers as you cum, her finger on your clit not stopping. It burned, and it hurt, but in such a good way. She continues to rub, pulling a second orgasm out of you, smirking as your juices squirt from your hole.

The blanket before you shows a puddle of your own spend, and you whimper as she pulls your ears up again. "Good little bun bun, cumming for your master like a good girl," She lets go of your ears and moves her legs, uncaging yours in the process. Before you can scramble away, she pushes you to your stomach, turning you to the bed frame. Grabbing the rope from your collar, she pulls your hands up to the bars and ties another sturdy knot.

You struggle, pull, fight, kick, but nothing stops Wanda from getting what she wants. She finishes securing you to the bed, and her hand harshly spanks your ass. You squeal and try to curl against yourself, but she hits you again. "Legs straight little one, or I'll tie those too." You listened, not wanting any more rough rope on your body.

She was unpredictable. She spanked you a couple more times before smoothing her hand over the raw skin. Or she would pull your tail and ears and, shortly after, softly squeeze your fluffy tail at the base of your back. The tears had not stopped either, the pillow beneath your face soaked with the salty water from your eyes.

Wandas' abuse finally stops after a couple of minutes, her hands softly squeezing your ass in her hands. You hurt; your ass is raw, your pussy is red and puffy, and your ears are on fire. She enters the small kitchen, washes her hands, and gets a glass of water. Setting the cup on the table next to the bed, she unties your wrists and helps you sit up. You whimper as the soft yet rough blanket rubs against the skin of your ass.

The cup's rim hits your lips, and you look up at Wanda in confusion. Why is she taking care of you? You think to yourself.

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, you take a sip of the cool water, sighing as it goes down your sore throat. Your screams did a number on you. Finishing the glass of water, Wanda smiles down at you and gently pets your fluffy ears. They twitch in response to her hands and instinctively move closer to her warmth and gentleness.

"Good little bunny..." She says, reaching down to hold your hands. "Listen to me," She commands. "You are going to be good and sleep in your cage tonight. Then in the morning I can get you some clothes. How does that sound? Hm?" Letting go of your hands, they softly rub up and down your thighs. You don't answer her, only giving her a nasty look, resulting in a disappointing sigh from her.

"Come on, lets go." She says, helping you stand by picking you up by your armpits. Once you are on your feet, she gently leads you to the cage and pushes you down by your shoulders. Your hands and knees hit the ground, and her hand softly pats your bum, hinting for you to crawl inside. You comply, moving into the cage and lying against the pillow.

Sleep hits you like a wall, unaware the water was drugged. You see Wanda shut and lock the door, reaching through the bars to kiss your fingers.

"Run, my little rabbit, run and play in your dreams. And when you wake up, we can get to know each other a little better." She whispers, softly holding your fingers that fall limply by the edge. Pulling away, she moves back to her bed, cleaning up the blanket with a wave of a hand.

Stripping off her dress, she lays down and watches your sleeping body, fantasizing about everything she wants to do to you.

Thanks to the sun's early light, the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, creating a calm environment. With a contented sigh, Wanda stretches her arms above her head, feeling relief as her spine cracks into place. She sits up, allowing her gaze to drift towards the cage in the corner of the room. A beautiful scene awaited her under a soft blanket—the outline of her little bunny sleeping peacefully behind the bars.

The whisper of a soft, melodious voice fills the air, promising adventure and connection. You follow the sound, your ears twitching with curiosity.

You dash through the meadow, encountering a figure, a large shadow surrounding it. It's an eerie, ghostly presence shrouded in an aura of ice and hatred. The figure emitted a terrifying, irresistible pull, hypnotizing you to come forward.

As Wanda took in her adorable pet, she couldn't help but smile, knowing that her bunny was safe and sound, nestled in its cozy cage, surrounded by a world of love and care. Of course, that is what Wanda wants to create for you. Your feelings were most definitely not mutual. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she approaches the door to your prison, unlocking the padlock and opening the door.

This bewitching being extends a skeletal hand, fingers adorned with grotesque, withered elegance, beckoning further from the meadow behind you. You approach carefully, drawn by an irresistible urge. The hand reaches down, petting your soft ears on your fluffy head.

Instantly, you are transformed into the hybrid you are now, the world around you turning into a dark abyss.

As you whimper in your dream, Wanda can't help but wonder what you're dreaming about. Is it a pleasant dream or a nightmare? She knows she shouldn't disturb you, but the temptation to playfully interact with your vision is too strong to resist.

Tendrils of black smoke shoot from the figure, twisting and writhing like malevolent serpents, suffocating the air with dread. Your heart drops to your stomach, your naked skin pebbling with goosebumps. The figure stands there, the wind around you starting to pick up. Smoke transforms into a massive tornado above you, picking you up effortlessly and spinning you around. It pulls you towards the figure, a featureless face other than a mouth meeting your eyes.

Your heart races with terror as the figure's mouth opens wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth. The smoke swirls around you, suffocating you, tightening their grip, making it impossible to break free. The closer you get to its mouth, the faster your heart beats and the quicker your breath becomes.

Carefully, she reaches out her hand and gently touches your shoulder, curious to see how you'll react in your fantasy world.

Screaming is useless now, as it will only be silenced by the dream realm. Even your punches and struggles are slowed down by an invisible force. The smokey tendrils bring you closer to the figure's mouth in slow motion, and you undoubtedly know the inevitable outcome. With a sudden, horrifying lunge, the figure's jaws close around you, yet no pain is felt. Your vision is surrounded by darkness-

You jolt awake at the feeling of Wands fingers against your skin, and your breaths come fast. You struggle to shake off the lingering fear from the dream, your eyes darting everywhere to find the source of touch. Once you see Wanda staring back at you, you instinctively shrink back, unsure of her intentions since the night before.

"Calm down, little rabbit, I'm not going to hurt you," She says, holding her hands up in a false surrender. "Come on out, bunny," Your ears twitch as her hand enters the cage, her fingers wrapping around your ankle. She pulls gently, trying to coax you from your spot in the corner of the enclosure. You don't budge.

Getting frustrated, she grabs the chain of your collar and pulls you out. Once you are out, she holds you by the ears and pulls you to her bed. "You listen to me!" She growls, crawling on top of your trembling form. In the blink of an eye, her demeanor changes completely. Her eyes no longer glaring at you, her mouth no longer degrading your behavior.

Her right hand softly caresses your tear-stained cheek, wiping away any stray tears that have fallen. Her fingers smooth over your [length, color, texture hair] hair and behind your bunny ears, which are relatively sensitive to feeling good.

As she scratches, she smiles at your foot kicking from below her. "Aw, what did I find?" Wanda asks, persisting in scratching behind your ears. Once she stops scratching, she gently pulls your ears together and holds them in her fist. "Gosh, look how cute you are..." she chuckles at the little wiggle of your nose and looks over your face.

She let go of your soft ears, a tender smile on her lips. Leaning down, Wandas' lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. At first, you struggled, protesting to be this close to your captor. But once Wanda's fingers reached your neck, you surrendered. She gently squeezed your neck, not choking you but asserting her dominance above you.

She pulled away from your lips so quickly you had to suck in a breath, the kiss taking your breath away, her breath also fanning against your cheek. You hate to admit that the kiss felt genuine, as if she truly loved you. Your mind told you many different things, but "run" was not one of them right now.

In the dim morning light, her green eyes lock onto your [eye color]-ed ones, silently telling you to let her into your mind. With great reluctance, you allowed her. You opened the gates to your consciousness, your deepest and darkest secrets showing themselves to Wanda. There were the little things, like your favorite food and color. And how you like your coffee in the morning or if you prefer quilted blankets over fluffy ones. If you like to sleep in or wake up early and if you read before bed or journal.

As she takes in all of your mundane likes and preferences, she pushes herself into a deeper part of your mind that knowing loves what she does to you. Every pump of her fingers, every orgasm and moan she pulls from you, this part of your mind will show her everything. ‘Mmm, a little rope bunny, huh? You love being tied up… now thats cute.’ Wanda speaks in her head, and you subconsciously hear everything she says.

Wanda smiles down at your dazed and confused expression, knowing full well that you are under her spell. She takes this opportunity to undo the chain connected to your collar, letting it drop off the bed and to the floor. On the bedside table, is the rope that held your hands to the bed frame as she spanked you. She smiles as she gets to use it again.

She moves off of your frozen body, settling you at the top of the bed with your head on a pillow. Grabbing the rope, she wraps one piece to your right hand, pulling your limp arm to the corner of the bed. She does the same to the left arm, putting you in a spread-out position. Nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. She decides right now that this is how she likes you; all tied up and at her mercy.

But Wanda wanted more! So she reaches under her bed to grab another two lengths of rope. She spreads your legs and ties both ankles to the bottom corners of the bed frame, looking at her work with a smug smile on her lips.

Having you still and under her control was all she needed. But now she wants your full attention. With a snap of her fingers, you are back and aware of your surroundings. Your eyes immediately find Wanda at the end of the bed, tears beginning to form.

“Please, I- I can’t do this anymore,” You say, tears pooling in your eyes as you pull at the rope around your limbs. She sighs and moves back to the head of the bed, sitting down next to you and gently wiping a tear from your cheek.

“I want to make you feel good, little one. You know I can do that…” Wanda says, her hand moving from your cheek, down to your neck. Her fingers gently wrap around the delicate part of your body, and she chuckles as you try to pull away. “There’s no escaping me, bunny. You’re mine now.”

You whimper, tears falling down your temples as you look up at the ceiling. Wanda strokes your hair softly and moves back on top of you, strategically placing her knee right against your wet folds. She gives you no room to move away from her, the movement you do have only makes you rub your clit against her knee. She smirks at your failed attempt to move from your current predicament.

“Oh my little bunny, trying to escape,” She moves her knee up and down, your slick coating her skin. “You have no idea what you are getting into, do you little rabbit,” Her voice laced with malicious intent, her eyes unreadable. Dread fills your stomach as a puff of red energy surrounds Wanda's naked waist. A leather harness wraps the way around her, a pearly, white, penis-shaped toy hooked to the end of it. “This. This is what you are getting into. Im going to fuck you into oblivion, and you are going to love it. You are going to take every little thing I give you, do you understand?” You don’t respond at first, your eyes glued to the white toy in front of you.

Wanda's hand squeezes your neck and your gaze shoots up to her face. “I said, do you understand?” She repeats. You nod your head and a whimper is forced from your system as she moves her hand from your neck down your chest. She scoots down a little bit, settling between your spread legs. Her cock sits proudly at your entrance, your slick already gathering from the sight of it.

With a smile, moves both hands to your pussy, rubbing your folds and spreading them open. Her thumb rubs small circles on your exposed clit, the sensation overwhelming. A moan leaves your mouth, and you scold yourself internally. You were mortified at how open and unprotected you are, yet your pussy got wetter by the second.

Wanda's other fingers entered your soaking hole, stretching you out to fit her cock. She wanted to make sure you were more than ready. Dragging spectral moans from your throat for a few moments, she felt like your little hole was ready for her.

She pulled her fingers from your pussy and put them to your lips, forcing them past, and held them on your tongue. “Clean up the mess you made.” Her command made you shake, but you listened, not in a condition to disobey. You sucked on her fingers like your life depended on it, making sure that every drop of your juices were gone.

The humiliation of having your body betray you, the tears continued. Wanda enjoyed every bit of that, leaning down and licking the tears from your face after removing her fingers from your mouth.

“P-please, please stop, I- I don’t want this,” You sob, trying to move anywhere, but are unable, due to the master rope work keeping you still.

Wanda ignored you, spitting on her hand and rubbing it along her cock. The cold ivory poked at your entrance and she leaned over you, grabbing your fluffy ears in her fist. “God, I’ve been wanting to do this forever now…” She says, pushing into your tight cunt.

A pained moan rips from your throat, tears falling down your cheeks as her cock splits you in two. Your arms and legs pull at the rope around them, trying anything to get free but nothing works. The breaths entering and exiting your mouth are fast and dangerous, panicking at the sheer size of Wanda's cock.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Bunny, look at me.” Wanda says, letting go of your ears to cup your cheek. She stopped moving when the moan you emitted left your mouth, and her other hand immediately went to your clit to try and soothe the pain. It helped a little bit, but not enough. Your sobs were heartbreaking to her and she pushed in a little bit more.

“Breathe for me, my little rabbit, breathe for me. I know you can do it,” She whispers, leaning down to meet your lips in a soft and gentle kiss. As you kiss her back, you whimper as she bottoms out inside of you. “You’re doing so good for me, baby, so good.” Her words flutter the butterflies in your belly, and your tight walls squeeze her cock lightly.

“H-hurts,” Is all you can muster out, more tears rolling down your temples. Wanda shakes her head and makes you look into her eyes.

“Bunny, look at me… this feels good, right? It feels so good.” Her eyes start to glow a deep red, pushing your mind and body into a euphoric hallucination. She rubs your clit and continues to talk to you. “You are doing so good, my love. This feels so, so good, and you love the feeling of my cock inside of your little pussy, don’t you?” You nod, her words of hypnosis causing the pain to feel pleasurable. “Good, you’re doing amazing…” she says, starting to move her hips, slowly pushing in and out of your pussy.

The pain subsides, as does her power over your mind. The pleasure is becoming real, and quite enjoyable. You close your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she brushes her thumb over your cheek. “Hey, look at me, honey, can you do that?” You obey, looking up into her eyes. “Good little bunny, such a good girl,” She praises you, and your tail wiggles in response.

Your heart is racing in your chest as she starts to move faster, her other fingers rubbing circles over your clit. She pushes you closer to your release, the feeling similar to running up a hill, only to jump and see the large drop on the other side. Reaching a good speed, she slows her fingers, wanting to make you cum from that sensitive spot right inside of your pussy.

“I know your close, bun bun, I can feel it,” She whispers, moans falling from your mouth with every thrust of her hips. She is right, your orgasm is just within reach, and she wants to see you fall apart underneath her. “Cum for me, baby, you can do it,” the praises enter your ears and hit your soul, pushing you right to the top of that hill.

You cum hard on her cock, loud moans filling Wandas' ears like music. With your ears flopping with every thrust, she smiles and takes a mental picture of this moment, wanting it to last forever. Soon, your orgasm washes over you, leaving you in a panting, tired mess. “You did so good my little bunny, so good.” Your cheeks heat up, submission being the only thing you can think of right now.

“P-please,” you whisper as you pull at the restraints. You had never felt this much pleasure at one time, the need to be held and taken care of was the only thing on your mind. No escape, struggle, rage, fear, nothing was on your mind. Wanda could sense this, and without hesitation she gently pulled out of you, cleaning you up with the apron of her dress draped over the end of the bed.

With care, she unties your limbs, kissing each of them after they are free. Once the rest of the rope was pulled off of your skin, you curled in on yourself. Your ears fall back in meekness and your tail wiggles struggling to calm down. Wanda smiles, lying down behind you on the bed. She takes you in her arms kisses your neck and pets your ears to soothe you.

Her whispers are the last thing you hear before your eyes begin to droop in exhaustion. “Its alright, my little rabbit. You’re safe with me…”

“I- Im- Im safe…” Sleepily, you respond, knowing deep down that you are safer than you will ever be outside of these walls.

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navstuffs · 1 year

Text

Emptiness

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: You are dead, and Leon wonders why he is still alive.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, long one-shot, leon is suicidial, suicide attempt!!, leon is depressive, MAJOR ANGST, abuse of alcohol, some usage of y/n, cigarettes/smoking, leon is a mess, SAD SAD SAD!!!, leon is suffering a lot, lots of pain, NO HAPPINESS!, dates in italic count since reader's death

Author's Note: idk, except i am sorry i like to make the characters i love suffer and share that on the internet? i made my husband read this, and he doesn't care about leon whatsoever, and he ended up upset for him at the end so you can imagine how this goes. i have more happy leon's fanfics, you can check it out here!

PLEASE, PROCEED CAREFULLY, AS THIS FANFIC DESCRIBES SUICIDE, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, DEPRESSION, AND ALCOHOLISM.

If you have been struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, you are NOT alone! Here is a link for tumblr support for some helpful information, depending in what country you are! Seek help, you are loved, you are strong, you are wanted!

3 months, 27 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes

The first thing Leon notices when he wakes up is that he is cold. He isn't wearing a shirt, and for some reason, the blankets covering his body look dirty with some unknown substance. He groans, throwing the blanket on the floor. He still wears the jeans from last night, has no shirt on, and doesn't smell well.

The second thing he hears is his phone's ringtone. It had to be Chris. Or Claire wondering if he is alive. He sits up, his hand rubbing his face as a way to make the headache less.

The third thing Leon notices is his hand resting in the empty space of the bed. Your empty space on the bed. He gulps because he hasn't touched that part since returning to the house. He raises his hand as if Leon contaminated the area, the last pieces he had of you.

Leon glimpses under your pillow a very familiar black shirt. One of the ones he gave to you. Leon doesn't remember grabbing it last night. He holds it, checking if he got dirty, but the shirt seems clean. Leon takes the shirt to his nose, smelling it.

His phone rings a second time breaking his trance. He gets up from the bed and sighs when he sees the nightstands filled with beer cans. You would have hated that.

When he finally finds his phone on the bathroom floor, Leon's headache worsens when he sees Chris's name.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck Leon, I was on my way to your house right now. You scared me, man."

"What do you want?" Leon isn't in the mood to talk, especially with Chris.

"Claire told me she went by your house last night, and you weren't there. She says the motorcycle wasn't there. Have you been drinking and driving again?"

Leon rolls his eyes. As if drinking and driving was a big problem for him now.

"Okay, mom, if that is all, then."

"Look," Chris sighs, and there is a long pause before he speaks again. "There is a mission. If you are still interested."

Finally, Leon thinks. He has been begging for one for weeks now, and Chris has always said "no," "next time," or "we shall see" due to his mental health situation.

"Yeah. When?"

"I will send you more details when I have it. Look, Leon, I just don't think you should—"

Leon hangs up without letting Chris finish. He scrolls through his lost calls, mostly all of them being from Chris and Claire. A few from Jill when she was trying to help. It got too much for her as well. Leon scrolls down even longer, finally finding your name.

Almost four months ago. Has it been that long? Two last calls.

As a ritual he repeats every morning, Leon clicks on your name, hearing the call go straight to voice mail. Precisely as he wanted.

Hi, this is Y/N, you tried to reach me, but I can't take your call now! Leave me a voice message, and I will contact you as soon as possible!

Beep.

-x-

4 months

Jill Valentine is sitting in front of Leon inside the jet. She hasn't looked at him once inside the plane as they are being taken to a contamination site. Her eyes are distant, her form is tense, and Leon maybe thinks that time can't cure it all.

"Preparing to land," They hear in their radio communications. Leon rechecks his gun, wondering without significant interest if any of that would ever end. When he looks up, Jill is observing him.

"You ready for this?" She asks with a mild tone of curiosity in her voice.

You knew Jill longer than you knew Leon, actually. You were her best friend before becoming his lover. Jill had given Leon all the solemn talk of "Don't fuck up with my best friend, or I will kill you." After your passing, Jill had become somewhat like a ghost in his life. She tried, Leon wonders, if not for you, to give him support in the first two weeks, but Leon knew deep down she blamed him.

And she was right.

"Yeah," He answers.

Jill nods. The last time she had seen Leon, he was miserable. With the longest beard Leon has ever had, bloodshot eyes, hair a mess, drunk, and the smell of cigarettes around the house. She told herself she would try for you, but it wasn't easy to see Leon like that. And after she said you would hate it if he smoked inside their house and Leon grunted that you were dead and never coming back, she left without looking twice.

She never understood why Chris and Claire continued. Maybe because they knew him longer than they knew you.

The plane finally lands in a safe space, and they exit. It is in an abandoned industrial area this time, and they might have survivors who live nearby and might need help.

"Do not fuck this up," Jill warns.

"I won't."

-x-

1 month, 1 week, 2 days, and 5 hours

Claire Redfield is knocking on Leon's door. It is way past dinner time, but she brings pizza. From your favorite place. Claire knows he won't have eaten anything since Chris kept telling her Leon is losing weight. Since your death, Claire has tried to help Leon out as much as she could because she knows that is what you would have wanted, to no avail.

"Come on, Leon, I have pizza! I know you haven't eaten today!" She announces.

That's when her sixth sense starts beeping. All house lights are off, which is strange: Leon either left the TV or any light on. Leon didn't like the darkness. Claire tries to open the door but is locked. Leon never locked the door since he was back for this house. With her heart racing, Claire goes to her bag and grabs the reserve key. She shares one with Chris, and they both trade every week. Leon doesn't seem to care, not that he cares about many things lately.

She enters the apartment to complete silence. No sight of him anywhere.

"Leon?" Her voice is distant, as her hands are looking for her gun. Maybe someone invaded and got him? Perhaps something else—?

The air escapes from Claire's lungs when she sees Leon. Hanging from the ceiling.

"Leon!" She screams, running fast to hold his legs. She doesn't know what she is doing, she is calling for help, she is trying to get a chair, she is trying to hold his legs up so he can breathe. Claire doesn't dare to look up.

With one sudden decision, Claire gets her gun and shoots three times at the rope. Leon's body drops, and he is pale as a ghost. She kneels near him, feeling his pulse. There is still one, very light, but there is one.

Without thinking twice, Claire starts CPR, Stayin' Live by Bee Gees, in her head. She knows Leon will hate her for this, but she can't fail this. She would have hated herself, you would have hated her.

"Come on, Leon, come on." She begs desperately as she compresses his chest with all her strength. When Leon finally breathes, a small vigorous one, Claire is sweating on her clothes. She sighs, relieved, sitting down on the floor, drained.

She grabs her bag and finds her phone to call the emergency number, asking for an ambulance. That her friend attempted suicide. She gives them Leon's address, checking for his breathing. When Leon opens his eyes, he is confused. The last thing he remembers is kicking the chair away, the air escaping slowly from his lungs. He looks around, finding Claire's face in his peripheral view. She seems to be crying, her hands on his chest.

His blue eyes find hers, and Leon looks with hatred in her direction for the first time that Claire doesn't recognize him. She feels tears form in the corner of her eyes, and her lips shake, but she holds them back.

"I have called an ambulance," Her voice shakes, and Leon's stare carries so much weight that she must look away.

-x-

1 month, 3 weeks, 8 hours, 2 minutes.

The hospital door opens, and Leon exits, carrying his duffel bag. After staying confined for almost two weeks, he inhales the fresh air. Those two weeks, instead of helping, just made him feel worse. Much worse. With no alcohol, no cigarettes, nothing, Leon had no way to forget. He woke up and went to sleep with your face on his mind.

Going through what he did wrong. What he could have done right.

He feels the pain sting his soul, thinking about your smile. Fuck, he needed a drink. He needed some sort of dubious mixed-up cocktail. The stronger, the better. When he looks to his left, he sees Chris Redfield standing.

Sighing, he walks toward Chris. Leon knows he won't be able to run away. Chris has a worried stare as he gets closer. To be honest, Leon thought he should have hated after what he did to Claire, but no, Redfield still manages to give him a small smile when Leon gets close.

"Hey."

"Who told you I was going to leave?"

"Mhm, the hospital? You are in my care for the next couple of weeks."

"I am going home." Leon starts to walk away from him, but Chris's arm stops him.

"No, you are not. As I said, you are in my care. And if I need to drag you to my car and make a scene in front of all those people, I will. What do you think?"

Leon hates how Chris can look like you so much regarding his care. Always to drastic measures, you both could say. Pretending to have given up, Leon holds his hands up as a sign of defeat and follows Chris to his car.

"Is...Claire okay?" Leon mutters as Chris starts the car. Leon can see Chris hold the wheel stronger than he should, but the moment passes, and Chris answers.

"She is worried sick about you. She has been...busy, that is all."

Leon knows that is a lie. He had seen Claire on one of the visitations day, and she seemed upset like she had been crying every day since she found him. Leon felt guilty Claire was finding him (he thought someone else would) and was outraged when she saved him. And he ended up lashing out at her. When Claire tried to argue during the visitations that is what you would have wanted, Leon roared that he never wanted to see her again.

To be honest, Leon is relieved. One less person for him to hurt. Chris, well, that one was hard. Leon knows he isn't giving up that easily. Especially after the last thing he said to you was that he would protect him during a mission.

"No, no, Chris, you don't understand, he bikes around without a helmet and thinks that is super cool? I mean, how old is he again? You better keep your eye on him, if I am not around. Got it?" You asked, winking in Leon's direction. He knew you were teasing him, but Chris's tone was serious when he answered.

"Loud and clear."

In the first three weeks after your death, Chris was there. He rummaged through the house, taking everything Leon could use to harm himself. Leon's guns were the first to go, Leon didn't know how he discovered the password, and honestly, he didn't care. He just woke up a day with them gone. Knives? Gone. It was like Chris was baby-proofing the house.

Leon would have lost much more weight during that time if it wasn't for Chris insisting on him eating. Or hydrate. Warning if he got too weak to take care of himself, Chris would have made sure to strap him to a bed and kept him there against his will.

"There are cigarettes in the glove's compartment," Chris says, cutting his line of thought.

Leon looks at him with suspicion before opening. Chris wasn't lying. There is even a lighter there.

"You smokin' now?" Leon asks out of curiosity.

"No. I bought those for you."

Leon lights up a cigar, opening the window. The rest of the car ride goes silent, and when they finally arrive at Chris's house, he turns off the car, sighing.

"Look, Leon. I am not very good at this, and you know it. You will stay with me as long as you want, but I can't keep you a prisoner in my house."

Leon observes him, and Chris takes the courage to finally say it.

"No one wants you dead, Leon. What happened to Y/N, it wasn't your fault. And you need therapy."

Leon gives a humorless laugh, opening the door of the car.

"You are not bad at this, Chris. You are terrible at this."

-x-

4 months, 1 day, 5 hours

Ada Wong is good at her job. She does what she is paid to do when she needs to do it. No feelings attached, except, well, when Leon Kennedy is involved. It had been like this since the events during Raccoon City.

And then, suddenly, you appeared on his side during the events in Spain. You were something else, for sure. Standing by his side, remaining strong, although that was your first mission, or so Ada heard. And facing up her, determination in your eyes. Ada found you adorable, perfect for Leon. The loyalty, in your eyes, was something she could never demonstrate.

The man in front of her now was just what once was Leon Kennedy, her..."ally" from the other side. Ada had to admit she was shocked when she first saw him, barely recognizing him. Leon had big dark bags under his eyes, not as strong as he once was. And there was...no life in his once vivid blue eyes. Nothing.

"Ada Wong. Doing something for yourself again?" Leon asks, his voice monotone.

Ada was used to his hostility, mistrust, and even anger. But not that complete apathy, a complete lack of emotions. Leon Kennedy was dead, she was confident, and he died when you did.

"You know I don't share my secrets, big boy," She says, her tone the same as always. "But we can always find common ground, as we always do."

Leon nods, and Ada tells herself she shouldn't care, she shouldn't ask. But she has never seen it like this, and this Leon frightens her.

"I have heard about Y/N. My condolences."

Leon's eyes go wide with surprise. He looks at Ada as if she has just arrived from outer space.

"Is this one of your schemes? 'Cause if it is, cut the crap, I am not in the mood."

"It is not. I heard about what happened." Is Ada Wong really showing empathy? Leon blinks, surprised, but he shakes his head. No, it has to be one of her tricks. Since when did Ada start caring about him?

"Shut up, Ada. Do not mention this ever again. We are here for a mission, nothing else, nothing more. Stop pretending you fucking care." Leon's voice is low, and Ada doesn't say anything as she watches him walk in the dark corridor before her. She has known him long enough to know when he is being serious, and she knows he is threatening her life now.

Ada sighs. The Leon Kennedy she once knew, was gone. You left a carcass behind, a damaged man for the rest of his life. Ada still remembers the last thing she said to you, before she disappeared.

"You are truly special. Take care of him."

-x-

1 minute

"Is Mr. Leon Kennedy speaking?"

Leon stops when he answers his phone to a strange voice.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Mr. Kennedy, this is from McKenney Hospital. Could we speak with you in just a moment? Are you busy or driving?"

"No. Hospital, you say? What is going on?"

"We just need a moment of your time. Do you know Y/N L/N?"

Leon's heart starts bumping against his chest.

"Yes. What about it?"

"Y/N L/N was involved in a car crash today, sir. At this moment in time, they are doing surgery on them."

"What? No, excuse me, ma'am, this is some mistake."

The gentle voice behind the phone silences as she listens, Leon saying you weren't involved in an accident. It was impossible. You were coming to have dinner with him later, you were going to forgive him, you were going to be back together just fine. When Leon shuts up, the voice speaks again with much more compassion.

"You are tagged as their emergency contact, Mr. Kennedy. How long can you get in here—"

"I just fucking told you, lady, that is impossible, they are coming to have dinner with me, we are supposed to reconnect, and you aren't listening to me!" Leon screams the last part, punching the counter before him and making all the glass bowls in the counter jump.

The compassionate voice waits to speak again in a much more determined tone.

"Mr. Kennedy, I suggest you come to the hospital, not alone. Come with a friend. We will answer all your questions and concerns when you get here. Just don't come alone."

Leon turns off the call, pissed. How can the lady be so stupid? He told her over and over again you were on your way to his house, your house. Leon had been cooking the whole night, preparing your favorite dinner. After that, he would never let you away from him ever again. He breathes deeply now, trying to ease the tremors on his hands, when he lets his eyes wander off to the TV, a news broadcast about a terrible accident that happened. Some drunk driver caused this accident that involved a with a truck oil tank, and five people were killed. Many injuries reported.

Without thinking twice, Leon grabs his motorcycle's keys.

He doesn't know how he got in one piece in the hospital. Something inside him tells him to call Jill, Claire, Chris, or someone, anyone, but he doesn't. The hospital's entrance is chaotic, with most victims being taken there since it was the closest location.

Leon asks your name to the front receptionist, and they say they are operating you now. The lady points to the waiting room area, where Leon waits. Leon had felt fear many times in his life, but nothing compared to this. He knew you were strong. Stronger than him, actually. You were brave. You were getting out of this.

Because he didn't know how to live without you.

Leon observed families getting good and bad news for what seemed an eternity. The death toll climbed to more two people, a mom crumble in the doctor's arms due to the loss of his son and husband. Leon was praying, begging for some higher force or anything for you to live.

He would never drink again. Leon Kennedy would never let the darkness inside him win and let you go. He would never doubt himself or his ability to love. No, Leon would love you even more intensely than he already did, more than anything in his life.

Leon takes a while to get up when the doctor finally calls his name. He feels sick, his stomach is twisting. He counts nine steps until he gets to the doctor, a lady with scrubs and an indecipherable face.

"Mr. Kennedy, do you want me to take you to a more private room?"

"Tell me."

The doctor sighs, looking directly into his eyes when she says.

"We did everything we could, Mr. Kennedy. I am sorry they didn't make it."

No.

"I am sorry, Mr. Kennedy, I truly am."

No. NO! NO!

"Mr. Kennedy, please, don't, I am sorry. Can I get some help over here? Please, don't do this!"

It takes six or seven security guards to stop Leon from destroying the waiting room or even hurting someone. He is crying, he is begging, he is losing himself. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It was unfair: not after everything he had done or everything you went through together. He always told you he needed to die first because Leon knew damn well he couldn't live without you. Leon has a hole in his chest that will never close again. He feels someone pull his sleeve up, a pinching sensation, and Leon falls into darkness.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy angst #leon x reader #leon x you #please dont hate me too much #but i had to :(#someone give reader to leon back please #i almost cried at the end of this I SWEAR

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vinsmokesangio · 3 months

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"good for ya"

pairing: young!coriolanus x wife!reader

summary: you and your husband have a secret code for the intimate moments | based on good for you - selena gomez ft. a$ap rock

my masterlist

a/n: You know when you haven't heard a song for years and when you hear it again you get that feeling as if it were the first time? I had this this week with "good for you" by Selena, and I immediately thought about writing about Coryo! hope you like it <3 PLUS, i'm not really good at writing smut but I tried my best lol

Simple and sparkling, Coriolanus Snow's initials in the shape of Marquise diamonds were on display on your neck. You didn't always wear it, but there was a kind of code between you and your husband where every time you wore that necklace, it was a sign that at the end of that day he could do whatever he wanted with you. Not that he didn't already do it, his possessive behavior went beyond the four walls. But in this case it was more special, your secret code, and above all, it symbolized how much you were his property.

One of the avoxes finished covering the makeup on your face with another thin layer of powder while the other pulled up the zipper of your tight dress, already knowing how much this would drive your husband crazy. You wave dismissing the avoxes that immediately leave your room, and then smile slightly, looking at your own reflection in the mirror. Your eyes shining with lust, just imagining what Corio would do to you at the end of this stupid ball. You were never a very sociable person, especially at these formal events that the new president of Panem was forced to hold to keep up appearances and pretend that he still cared about all those people he only interacted with out of obligation. But the reaction he had upon seeing you, and carrying his initials on a necklace with him, was worth it.

"Good girl. I know what you are asking for when you wear these Marquise diamonds.” he comes up from behind and whispers close to your ear, making your whole body shiver. His teasing mixed with a light scent of posca that came from his lips always brought you to a wave of adrenaline that was impossible to contain. You answer him, smiling mischievously.

“Let me show you how proud I am to be yours”. That sentence, that simple sentence spoken in your innocent and angelic voice, was enough for all of Coriolanus's self-control to immediately go away. And ironically, control was what he liked to have most, especially under you. “Let’s get out of here now.” Was all he could reply before grabbing one of your arms and guiding you to the second floor of the mansion, towards his room.

Once inside the room, Coryo's hands quickly search for the zipper of your dress, desperate to throw it on the floor. The whole set of things you had done today, for him, only for him, drove him crazy, especially knowing your true intentions. You just wanted to look good for him. Undressed, you walk to the bed without breaking eye contact with him, and sit, leaning your back, supporting your weight on your elbows. Teasing him, you take one of your hands to your necklace, while spreading your legs, like an invitation to a banquet.

“You naughty little girl. All dressed up just f’me” Coriolanus says as he walks towards you, unbuttoning the belts on his pants, already extremely tight due to his painful erection. With his pupils dilated and his blue eyes taking on darker tones, one of his hands finds your throat and squeezes it lightly. “You’ve been doing so good for me lately, and I’m going to repay you right now, darling”. His words make you let out a moan, as if they were going straight to your panties.

“Hmm, you taste so good, love” he attacks your pussy like a starving man, eating his first meal in months. The sounds of your moans are like music to him, which encourages him even more to skillfully move his tongue across your clit. He feels you squirm indicating your orgasm.

“C-coryo, I’m close, baby FUCK” shameless, you almost scream in pleasure, grabbing the sheets and pulling your husband’s hair, the way his nose presses against your clit is too much for you.

“That's good, huh? Come for me, pretty girl” and then you reach your peak, leaving your liquids all over Coriolanus's face, who was now smiling in approval. You never had such a beautiful sight.

“please, baby, I need you” “you need what? use your words, love” One of his hands goes to your chin and lifts your face slightly. "I need to feel your cock inside me, please Coryo!” you beg and Coriolanus feels his cock throb, as he puts you on your stomach and slaps your ass, making you gasp.

“you like that, huh? to be good for me, to wear my initials on your neck, you know you’re mine, don't you? my fucking property” he opens your legs and teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, already leaking pre-cum, which enters your soaking hole without difficulty. He starts to thrust lightly, increasing the speed as your moans also increase while his hands push you, making you sink onto the bed. Your cry of pleasure brings the feeling of control that Coriolanus likes so much, he loves the idea of knowing that he gives you so much pleasure.

He increases the speed of his thrusts, achieving his own pleasure, which arrives simultaneously with yours. Trying to catch your breath, you turn over in bed to face him.

“I’ll always be good for you”.

#coryo snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #giowriting #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus x you #tbosbas #snow lands on top #president snow

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sky-scribbles · 7 months

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(A draft of a latter found discarded in the Sword Coast Couriers’ office. Addressed to a Morena Dekarios, but apparently never sent.)

Dearest Mother,

I can only extend my most profound apologies for the unpardonable length of my silence. A true conspiracy of circumstances has kept me from sending word to you, but my filial duty shall be neglected no longer, now that I may at last avail myself of a courier service again (and have ensured that a certain tressym shall not consume the appointed pigeon.)

First of all, an explanation is both deserved and due. Be assured, before you read on, that I am perfectly well

I am not in any immediate danger

the statement ‘I was abducted by an illithid vessel, spirited far from home and deposited in the untamed wilderness of the Sword Coast’ is far less frightening in practice that it might appear on paper

I have simply been away from civilisation for a spell. But I now have the fortune to find myself in Baldur’s Gate, and able to avail myself of the exquisite pleasure of fresh parchment.

Your first question, I imagine – and a most justifiable one it is! – is when I shall return to my much-missed Waterdeep, and to you. Rest assured that I fully intend

I wish for nothing more than to do precisely that. The pain of being so far from home is an ever-expanding and insistent grief.

Yet, sorry to say, the situation in Baldur’s Gate is a delicate and complex one at present, and I mind myself obligated to remain until the city is at no longer at imminent risk of annihilation

until I’ve made a decision regarding an artefact I became aware of lately

I know where my path onward might lead, and what might be required of me. There is a possibility mere inches from my grasp, one that holds the promise of change, of rewriting so much for the better. But if my road should lead where I hope it might, I do not know if I will be able to

I will be changed

I wish I could promise

it may not be in my power to return for some time.

It breaks my heart to be so evasive with you. I am sure you are about ready to tear this page up with frustration by now, and my only pitiful excuse is that this has been the most difficult letter of my life. Every day, every hour, I ache to Teleport myself straight to your side and let all that I have concealed spill from me, like a sealing rune shattered, a wound torn open.

Once there was a time when a word from you, a single touch, could resettle the world on its axis and mend all the brokenness there was. Regrettably, I fear what eats at me now is beyond any power to heal, even that of your boundless love. Knowing that does not stop me from wishing I could go to you, and be small once more. All these years, and I fear your golden child has yet to grow up.

The histories say that Mystra was a mortal woman once. I wonder if she remembers her parents. I wonder if she ever longs for them.

I wonder if I will.

I have stayed away for so long, knowing that you were safer far from me. Now, when I consider how you may feel when I become something you can no longer hold, I wish distance were enough to protect you. I have no choice

I could do so much

I can think of no way to soften the pain of what is to come, other than weaving time itself anew so that you never had a son at all. Perhaps that would have been better for you, ultimately. For everyone.

I don’t know what to do

I love you

I know I’m going to break your heart

I’m sorry.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #just... having thoughts about where his head might have been at #before tav talks him down from the godhood thing (or where his head might've stayed at if they don't)#sky's writing #bg3 spoilers

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tulipsforvin · 20 days

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DON'T BE A STRANGER ༉‧₊˚✧.*

✧ an albert j. moriarty x f!reader slow burn (reader is a doctor)

✧ ⚠️: angst, bittersweet ending.. idk

✧ it's so long :') please excuse my poor effort at foreshadowing 🌷

CHAPTER ONE — “so, let me get this straight. your biggest dream is to open a small clinic in london?”

“yeah!” you nod happily. “i want to treat the less fortunate people out there; people with financial troubles, men, women & children from the slum, you know?” the brown haired noble hums approvingly.

idyllic, soft noises of a piano being played comes from below the floorboard, probably downstairs. you lift your head up from the man's injured arm in mild surprise, only to be met with his own curious gaze.

his expression immediately softens upon seeing your own gaze and his lips melt into a small, subtle smile.

“must be louis.” albert says, grinning. “he's been practicing piano lately and—” he winces when you tighten the bandage around his forearm. “—ouch.”

you grin back at him teasingly. “you can deal with it, you're a big boy.”

“aha.” he rises to his feet. “that, my dear, i am.”

“here, catch.” you throw him his shirt, crisp white and clean and he catches it mid air with ease. he smiles proudly like he's caught an alligator by it's jaw. he wipes his sweaty hands with his handkerchief.

“i hope you'd come around here more often.” albert says while leaning against a wall, arms crossed. he's halfway in his shirt, deciding not to put the other arm in since he thought it'd be too painful to try. “it's fun with you around, (name).” he approves of his own words by nodding to himself. “truly.”

“hmm..” you pretend as if you're pondering, index tapping your chin idly and eyes looking up at the ceiling in feigned thoughtfulness. your gaze drops back to him. “then perhaps you should be ambushed during your missions more, yeah?”

the brown haired chuckles amusedly at your words. “ah,” he says. “now words, my dear, you should be careful with. i may as well willingly fall down a flight of stairs just because you've said that to me now.”

what a flirt, you scoff.

you stand to your own feet as well, sling your sids bag in and stuff in your medical supplies. his gaze falls to it momentarily before returning to your eyes and he smiles at you.

“you should let me drop you off as a thank you of nursing me.” he tells you, walking a few steps forwards until he's directly looming in front of you.

you lift your head to look up at him and speak. “no, that's okay. i'm pretty sure i can find my way back myse—” his hand slides between the gap of your arm and your waist and you're sure you feel the back of his fingers touch your waist as he's zipping your side bag shut. and you feel tingly all of a sudden.

what a goddamn flirt.

“i insist.” he says, voice soft before he pulls back a few steps. then, he grins at you as he's always done, with that easy, boyish grin he always has. “please.”

“fine.” you clear your throat, looking away. you're hurrying your way towards the doorstep and fiddling with the doorknob until it's open. you step out.

and he eagerly follows you behind, almost jogging to keep up with your fast pace of walking. his heart seems to be beating for some peculiar reason; perhaps due to the physical exercise of keeping up with you. “my, (name).” he laughs brightly. “i wasn't aware we were having a marathon.” and you groan annoyedly at his antics. “please be silent.”

if only he knew what was going on in your head right of this moment. if only he knew how hard your heart was thumping inside of your chest at every brush of your elbows. if only—

you've only realized you've already been out and about for a while now, that you've been walking past the streets and the lanes and under the unlit lamps and finally infront of your house. you've so realized that he'd been walking past you quietly surprisingly in obedience just like you'd told him to.

“then..” he speaks after some time, turning to look at you. he holds out his hand to you and you place one of your own over his. your eyebrow raises when he raises it to his lips, places the softest of kiss over it & lets both of his and your hands fall back to your sides.

“i'll see you, (name.)” he tells you, stepping back.

“i..” you pause, rather flustered. “y-yes. me as well.”

you tell the noble to get home safe and you step inside of your house, lock the door, back against the door with weak knees before sliding down against it.

you're sure you're red. everywhere. down to the tips of your very fingers, neck, face. everywhere.

it was only politeness. countless, not only noblemen but men in general have done that before. it was only right. so why did it feel so different when he did it?

“idiot.” you murmur under your breath. “stupid idiot.” at this point, you're not exactly sure who you're cursing and mumbling about. you, or him.

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CHAPTER TWO — the purple melted into the pinks and the pinks blurred into the shades of oranges that hovered right above the horizon. the morning was early. the day was new and so, a new enthusiasm had risen in you.

you had made up your mind.

enough of the unrequited love, you thought.

enough of the days spent daydreaming while fiddling with gauges and vials of ointment, you thought.

enough of the nights spent thinking and dreaming, dreaming and thinking once more of how it would be like for you to be his and his to be yours.

you grip at the belt of your side bag. your hands are clammy as you're riding your bicycle towards the moriarty residence and your entire body is hot with nervousness. the sun is pressing gentle kisses on your back and the soft, soft wind pushes back stray hairs away from your forehead.

your plan for the day? invite him over to your place so that the two of you can get closer somehow. maybe doing something like cooking, or baking. or just spending some time with him in general.

“(name)!” bond's opened the door, grinning enthusiastically at you. “it's good to see you.”

“good to see you, too, bond.” you tell him, returning the man's smile. he's new to the group, apparently. your smile at him is familiar. usually meeting someone new and interacting with them would be awkward but with bond, it was easy & comfortable.

“is albert home?” you question and he nods.

“yes.” he tells you. “in his bedroom.” he tells you, stepping back to let you step inside.

“okay!” you're hurrying your way up to his bedroom, heart pumping out of your chest in a mixture of excitement, anticipation and nervousness.

one knock. two knocks.

“come in.” a voice calls from within and you recognise it immediately. who else would have that velvety, deep & smooth voice except than him?

the door creaks open and he visibly brightens upon seeing your face. “(name).” he smiles. he's slipping on his leather gloves. “to what do i owe this pleasure?”

“well—” you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “i wanted to ask if.. you wanted to come over to my place and you know, do some baking. or something.”

albert blinks. “you came all the way over here to tell me that? (name)..” he exhales. “you could have just sent a telegram instead of going through all the trouble to get here to invite me.”

“i know.. but,” you clear your throat. but what? did you even have an excuse? “i wanted to spend more time with you.” “i thought- i thought i'd exercise or something. get some fresh air, you know?”

he pauses. “yeah.” he nods. ponders. speaks. “i.. actually have to get to a meeting in about one and a half hour or so.” and he watches your face fall.

“oh.” you can only mutter out. so much for trying to get closer to him, you think. “oh, okay. that's fine, then. always a next time, right?” and you try to laugh — it's almost a piteous sound, you can't seem to hide your disappointment and he sees right through it.

albert runs a hand through his brown hair. “it would be a hassle going back and forth.” he continues. “however..” small smile. “i think i can make some time for a simple cake if we do it here.”

your eyes twinkle and you nod vigorously. “but what of the ingredients?”

“i am sure we have plenty here.”

୨🌷୧ ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

and that was how the two of you ended up like this, with you licking frosting off your fingers, watching albert as he frosts the cake with a sky blue icing. he takes a step back, rubs the sweat off his brow with his arm, looking at the work that the two of you created. it's simple, really; covered in a sky blue, a few small decorations here & there but it's yours. and his.

“well?” he sighs, turning to look at you with an eyebrow raised. he's wearing a dark green apron dusted in flour and so are you. “my hands were trembling, i was afraid i would ruin the cake or mess up the decorations.”

you beam up at him. “it looks great!” and he grins with the most proudest smile you've seen. “although i wish i could've helped more. i was the one with the idea and yet you're the one who did the most work.”

“nonsense.” albert says. his hands are already busy cutting slices for the two of you. “i only did the finishing touches and assisted here and there. you are the one that worked more diligently,” he reaches over and his thumb swipes at your cheek. he pulls his hand back & gestures at the excess flour he gathered from your cheek. “and there is the proof.” he grins.

“that doesn't prove anything, by the way.” are you stuttering? is your face too red? are you doing something out of the ordinary? is your expression too silly? too stupid? is it obvious that you like him?

“haha.” he chuckles. “i'd like to think otherwise.”

is now the right time to confess? it's been long enough, hasn't it? you've known him for four years already — isn't that enough? wouldn't he accept?

“albert?” you inhale, your fingers fiddle with each other in nervousness. you gather your courage, let it simmer under your skin momentarily as you prepare yourself to tell him what you feel about him.

“hm?”

“i've- i've actually always liked—”

moran walks into the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants as he makes his entrance. “hey, it's time for the meeting.” his gaze falls on the cake. “ooh, is this for me?” he says greedily.

albert sighs. “no it isn't, colonel.” he swats the large man's hand away and moran yelps. “ouch!”

“tell the others i'll be there in a minute.” the brown haired man says, taking off his apron. moran shrugs his shoulders and walks away. “ah, right.” the man pauses, turns to look at you and tilts his head. “wasn't there something you were about to tell me, (name)? something about always liking something?”

“what?” you blink. “oh, nono- it's okay.” you shake your head frantically. “i just..” you clear your throat. “i just meant to say that i've always liked your determination to.. change this world of ours and that i've always respected your ideologies, that's all.”

“....” the silence in his pause is defeaning.

albert's lips slowly broaden into a smile. he nods in acknowledgement of your words. “thank you.”

“albert!” the both of you hear moran calling out for the noble. albert's head turns towards the direction of the noise momentarily before returning to yours. “i'll take my leave now. moran seems to be getting his knickers in a twist.” he grins when you giggle. “you should take the cake with you, though.”

albert leaves, but manages to take one more glance at you. his expression has shifted, a little different as he's leaving; strange. almost unreadable. his smile has disappeared — as if he's thinking of something.

does he know? or is he just suspicious? not that him being suspicious of your feelings is any better.

you're left alone in the kitchen. you feel like ripping your hair out in embarrassment. you wanted to do this slowly, taking your time, doing it the right away.

and yet, you panicked. rushed. failed.

“ugh..” you groan at your ruined attempt to tell him how you actually feel about him. “this sucks.”

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CHAPTER THREE — it's been entire weeks since you've properly talked to albert. some days when you talk to him, he pretends not to hear at all, some days he only answers if he really has to and some days he blatantly ignores you. as if you don't even exist.

“i am alright, (name). please don't worry about me.” william smiles up at you. you've finished tending to his wounds and are currently observing him for any more bruises or any signs of distress & ptsd. william willingly let himself be kidnapped for one of their missions.

however, a kidnapping is still a kidnapping, now matter how much it was planned with detailed intricacy. “you should check up on albert, instead. it seems he's gotten a little hurt during my rescue.”

“well..” you gulp down hard. you're reluctant — because he's been keeping his distance from you for the past few weeks. you're not exactly sure why, but you have a hint. he definitely knows, doesn't he?

albert was known among high society to be on friendly terms with both noblemen and noblewomen alike. he was popular, but he was also infamous for suddenly turning distant and reserved towards a particular lady if she confessed of her feelings to him, or the news of someone becoming interested in him romantically came to his knowledge.

of course that was also because he didn't want to hurt anybody. he couldn't afford being in love — knowing how their grand plan would end, anyway.

and you being treated like one of those women made you feel terrible; like you'd been thrown aside.

weren't you special to him? then why did he treat you as such? does he treat other women the same?

“alright.” you tell william reluctantly and he offers you an empathetic smile. he gives your arm a small, encouraging pat and you feel a little comforted.

“i am sure things will go well with the two of you.” nothing was ever hidden from william, was it?

with his encouragement, you make your way to albert who's currently conversing with moran. moran would never, ever in a hundred years or a million years pass down the opportunity to tease albert.

“getting rusty, aren't you?” moran laughs loudly, finding great amusement in this. “this is what happens when you're cooped up in adminstrative work instead of being out there in the field.”

“very funny, colonel.” albert responds gruffly.

both the men notice your presence and moran gives you a loud "yo" as a greeting. albert is much quieter than usual and only gives you a curt “good morning”.

it hurts, you realize. but never mind that — you're here to check up on him, not bring your personal feelings into this. “give me your arm for a second.”

and he does. his head is turned a few degrees away from you and he's busying himself in conversation with moran deliberately. he has a bruise on his cheek, a few scrapes on his arms that broke skin, but that was it. you put down your side bag on the nightstand besides the medical bed and begin to shuffle through the necessary items to treat his wounds.

you pour disinfectant on a piece of cotton and lean in to dab away at the bruise on his cheek. albert flinches sharply, grabs your wrist unconsciously.

what? both of your expressions seem to say exactly that. albert looks up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his grip on your wrist still hasn't loosened and you wince slightly in pain when you try to tug it back.

“oh..” he finally realizes what he's just done and he clears his throat uncomfortably, looking away. he drops your hand and “apologies. i didn't mean to do that.” he murmurs quietly. “give it to me, i'll do it.”

albert snatches the cotton drenched in disinfectant away from you and begins to do it in your stead.

and you can feel your heart aching because even now he's ignoring you. it's been days, no—weeks, since you've had a proper conversation with him.

you feel a lump rise in your throat because he doesn't even sound sincere with his apology. he sounds so halfhearted, like he just wants to get it done with, like talking with you is a chore. he's so distant. so cold.

“albert, can i please talk to you?”

“i'm sorry, (name). i'm a little tired from right now and i'd like to rest.” albert says, volume and octave of his voice a little higher than usual. his tone of voice is brittle, firm, rough — so unlike the gentleness he used to address you with only a few weeks ago.

he's avoiding you.

“it won't take long, so—”

“(name).” his voice is stern, without a hint of warmth.

it's obvious. and it pains so much.

“i can't seem to comprehend why you're bothering me after i outright asked that you let me rest. can i not have that? or did you not hear me, perhaps?”

you feel your heart drop to the pits of your stomach.

albert spoke loudly to make sure everyone would hear him, and that it would seem rude if you were to bother him even after he directly told you he needed rest. all eyes are on you. your head feels heavy. your heart is drumming hard, there's a hollowness in your stomach and a deep, aching pain in your chest.

and you shift anxiously. you can only shift anxiously.

he's put you in an uncomfortable situation. you'd never expected him, of all people, to do that to you.

why was he being so hostile to you?

your fingers wrap tightly around the belt of your side bag. “i- okay..” you say, defeated. “get some rest.”

“yes.” he says, voice tight. “leave.”

your hands are trembling. all the ignored words, avoidant eyes, distance, harsh words from him was getting to you. he was being mean. your vision is blurry — most likely due to the formation of tears. you dare not let them drop right now.

why was he acting like this? what had you ever done to him? was your only sin falling in love with him?

“i should go now.” you pray. you pray hard that your voice didn't sound shaky. you pray that your voice didn't crack. you pray that it didn't sound like you were about to cry. but a tear betrays you, anyway.

you can't look at anybody right now.

everyone is gawking, and you rush out of the room. it doesn't matter anymore — it's too much for you. you run past the hallways, past the door, past fred tending to the plants in the conservatory and out of the manor. you run and you keep running until the moriarty residence is out of sight, until you begin to gasp and breath hard for air, until you collapse onto your knees over rocks and gravel and dirt.

the pain from bruising your knee over a sharp rock only makes matters worse. the cut is deep and you bleed over the blades of grass and over the dirt.

you bleed over his words.

you cry and cry. you cry your heart out.

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CHAPTER FOUR — exactly six months have passed since your falling out with albert. you've given up all dreams of being involved with him romantically. you've been huddled up inside of your house for a few weeks, researching and researching. soon, you'd have enough money to move to london and finally fulfill your dream of opening your quaint little clinic.

you'd forgotten your precious side bag at the moriarty residence but were too hesitant, too embarrassed, too hurt to retrieve it.

william and bonde, especially, have sent numerous letters asking about your health and if you are well — which you haven't answered. not to a single one. one from louis and fred each and one small note from moran bluntly telling you to just forget all about albert and about how much of an asshole he is.

you'd laughed a little at that one — it was short and half of it consisted of profanities but you knew that it was his own way of caring. and it was sweet to know.

no news from albert, or about albert. but you'd decided to leave it all in the past, anyway.

you take a step into the shower.

tonight was very special for you, anyway.

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this is the first time you're going to attend a noble function. you're accompanying a viscount by the name of francis. he's over six feet tall, has warm hazel eyes, curly black hair, wears glasses — a little awkward and stutters in social situations, but you figured that was his charm.

he was your business partner. he'd provide the money to allow you to open your clinic in london and you'd provide your intellect & experience in the medical field. everything was set; tonight was a stage for the two of you to advertise and hopefully, find customers. or donators. both would be a great help.

“s-shall we get some drinks, (name)?” francis holds out his arm to you and you link your arm in with his.

“we shall.” you beam up at him. you're wearing an emerald coloured silk dress that francis bought you which perfectly hugs your body — you look striking.

the two of you get yourself a glass of sparkling wine each and begin to actively engage with other nobles; you in the lead with francis backing you up, subtly pushing the topic of opening your clinic into the conversation. everything seemed to be going good.

“brother, how about we not overindulge in wine tonight?”

that's a familiar voice.

your neck almost whips towards the direction of the voice. albert and william, clad in perfectly fitted tuxedos and crisp white shirts underneath.

“what are you saying, will?” albert laughs. “how can i say 'no' to wine, out of everything else?” that same, handsome face. except there was a type of gauntness to him — a tiredness in his expression.

“..(name)?”

“(name)?”

“(name)!” you flinch sharply. “what?”

“you're zoning out.” francis looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed in worry. he has an arm rested atop your shoulder and he squeezes gently. “are you alright? i've been calling your name for a while now.”

“oh..” you feel queasy but put on a smile regardless. “everything's fine. i was just looking around, y'know?”

francis's hazel eyes narrow.

they slowly lift to see albert; only for him to notice that albert's sharp, green eyes were looking right back — especially at you. he may be awkward, but he wasn't stupid, and he surely wasn't dense enough to not be able to read the room or social situations.

‘‘an ex-lover? a failed love? an one-sided love? which is it?,, francis thinks to himself.

“you know w-what?” he holds his palm out to you, giving you his usual warm smile. “the dance is about to start soon. how about you be my partner?”

you blink in surprise, taken off guard. “huh?”

“we're business partners, a little d-dancing isn't going to hurt either of us, is it?” he tells you softly.

“well..” you contemplate for a long time.

then, the music begins to play.

“my arm is beginning to hurt, (name).” he tells you, gesturing towards his extended hand that he's been holding up for a while now. “may i have this dance?”

you exhale, smile, nod your head and place your hand over his. he brings it up to his lips before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“woah—” you squeal in surprise.

“s-sorry.” francis grins. “too close?”

you shake your head. “no.” you chuckle. “just fine.”

the music is soft and slow. violin, piano, trumpet, etc cetera. a few others have already started waltzing across the large ballroom, swaying in sync to the music. you place your hands on his shoulder.

“i must inform you beforehand,” you tell him, peeking up at francis. “i am not the finest of dancers, i am afraid that i may step on you.”

he laughs. “t-then i seem to have done a good job picking the toughest shoes out of my collection.”

you smile up at him — genuinely, sincerely. it felt good being with francis. but to albert, it sure didn't feel good watching the events unfold before him.

why was he feeling this way watching you two?

there was a strange feeling of unfamiliar irritation and resentment for francis bubbling under his skin; even if he's sure he's never met the man before. there was something about the way francis had his hands placed on your hips that pissed him off.

albert's green eyes narrow and his fingers tighten around his wine glass. suddenly, his finely tailored tux begins to feel constricting. he wants to pull his gaze away, he really does, but his eyes are stuck on you.

does he feel something for you? why is his heart beating so hard in his chest? is it out of anger for the man you're dancing with? or something else entirely?

listening to you laugh as that man twirled you around the grand ballroom makes his jaw tighten.

it annoyed him to a great deal — even if he wasn't aware why. william notices this and places a comforting hand on his older brother's shoulder. “perhaps we should take a tour in the gardens? i am told the greenery is beautiful here.”

albert inhales deeply, lets go of the breath he was holding and nods. “that's a wonderful idea.”

୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈

the moon tonight is pale and it illuminates the gardens with it's iridescent glow. the two brothers have been walking around in the gardens for an hour or so now — it's hard to keep track of time for albert anyway, with how his mind is filled with thoughts.

“(name)!” william calls out, noticing you staggering into the garden. albert's eyes flash open and they follow his gaze. you're swaying side to side, a bottle of wine sloshing around in your hand.

“(name).” albert's voice is hoarse and he practically runs over to you. he scans you down from head to toe, eyebrows scrunched in worry. “what is..all this?”

“hnn—?” you trip on your other foot and almost crash down on your knees until albert catches you by both your arms. you grunt, stabilising yourself on your feet and look up at the man, only to notice that it's albert, of all people. “don't touch me, you prick!”

you slap his hands away. his eyes widen momentarily before he huffs frustratedly. he runs a hand through his silky, brown hair. “where is the man that was accompanying you?”

“i don't—hic!—need to say anything to you!” instantly, the tower of all of the negative emotions that had been building up inside of you suddenly come crashing down. “you think you can act all chummy with me again? news flash, you can't!”

your voice is loud and it's booming over the garden grounds. albert lifts his head from you to see if anyone has heard you. he can only thank the gods above that the music is much louder inside.

“you're drunk.” he states. “how can that imbecile leave you alone when you're in this state?”

“don't call francis that!” you yell at him, words slurry. “he's a million times better than you will ever be.”

“so francis that is fool's name?” he scoffs. “contrary to your belief, that's quite hard to imagine when he's left you like this. what if some man was to—?”

albert isn't sure what's struck him until his ears ring. there's a sharp ache emitting from his cheek, only later realising that you've just slapped him. hard.

“i..” william clears his throat uncomfortably, looking just as surprised. “i shall get a carriage for us.”

albert's quiet for a while before he mumbles: “...yes, that would be ideal. thank you, will.” william gives albert a small nod before making his way out of the gardens and leaving the two of you alone.

“i don't think—hic!—you're in any position to talk.” you retort at him. “you are no better than the rest.” you're glaring daggers up at him. “infact, you are much, much worse! you're the scum of your species. you would rather run away from everything that bothers you than face it like an actual man!”

albert watches you holler and throw profanities at him in utter silence with a grim expression on his face. his face only further darkens when tears begin to build in your eyes and stream down your face.

“i hate you!” you shout up at him. the flow of tears won't stop. they keep falling over and over. you'd been strong for too long, and this was the result.

you keep shouting over and over that you hate him, sides of your fists pounding against his chest as albert just takes it all in — lets you do as you please.

it's only until your shouting has turned to sobs and sniffles that he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “shhh.. shhh...” he cooes to you softly.

“i love you, can't you see that?” you babble up at him and he exhales quietly. “i... can. i do.” he says.

you huff, still quite intoxicated. “and your answer?”

albert ponders, hesitates, but speaks in the end. “i don't have one.” he replies. “i'm not sure how i feel for you.” he pauses. “i'm not sure i do feel for you.”

you stiffen in his embrace. one beat. two beat. three beats. and you detach yourself from him.

“this is wrong,” you mumble. “so very wrong. how can you tell me you don't feel anything for me and that you don't have an answer to give me while you're hugging me? don't you think you're being too heartless?” you wipe away at excess tears with the sleeves of your green dress. you sniffle twice.

“i need to leave.”

you back away, albert catches you by the wrist. “wait a second—” he says, tone of voice panicked.

“please.”

you turn around. “what?”

“let me drop you off. to make sure you're safe.”

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CHAPTER FIVE — (albert pov!) the heavens are scowling constantly this week and the rains frighten the terrains. the unstable weather is the perfect reflection for albert's current state of mind.

he sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

it's been a week since the function.

a week since you broke down & cried infront of him.

a week since he's seen you —

and almost seven to eight months since he's last heard your laugh.

albert's too much of a coward — he's terrified that you would turn him away if he came to visit. even back then with ending his life and even now, his cowardliness seems to persist throughout his life.

the side bag that you left here months ago sits atop his lap and he fiddles with it's chain idly. this is all that he has of you right now; a worn out leather side bag.

he isn't even sure why he feels the need to keep it close with him but having even a semblance or a fragment of you calms his heart down somehow. there's a gap in his heart and he doesn't know what to fill it with. he doesn't know what piece fits in his chest and that makes him feels numb and empty.

“haa...” he exhales tiredly. when was the last time he actually slept well? he doesn't even remember. everytime he tries to fall asleep, there's a deep uncomfortableness he feels — making him avoid it almost completely. he's tired and sleepy, but this strange anxiousness in him won't let him rest.

“caffeine.” a rough voice speaks. “here, it'll help to stay up.” albert lifts his head to see moran holding out a mug of steaming coffee to him.

“colonel.” he responds hoarsely. “thank you.”

“you'd really prefer to do all kinds of mental gymnastics just to justify your own inaction, huh?”

moran sits opposite to him, dragging a stool under him and plopping down on it comfortably. “so?” the black haired man begins. “what is it?”

“what is what, colonel?” albert exhales. he's too exhausted to deal with anything right now.

“the issue, man.” moran says matter-of-factly. “you're weeping & mopping your ass everywhere around the manor and it's pissing me off. everybody's worried.”

albert looks down at his mug of coffee quietly.

“do you think how i treated (name) was wrong?” he fiddles with the mug holder, gaze locked to it.

“what? psshh—” moran snorts. “so all of this-” he waves his hand around the room. “-is because of a girl?” the large man snickers, slapping his knee.

albert only shoots a glare and moran throws his hands up in the air, shrugging. “yeah, i mean you did treat her like garbage. if you don't like her than just tell her and move on, y'know? you didn't have to do all that ignoring and criticising extra shit.”

“that too, and..” albert leans back in his chair. “i.. what does it mean to feel uncomfortable and strangely irritable if you see a friend of the opposite sex dance with a man?”

“huh?” moran yawns, sipping away at his coffee. “what does it mean? doesn't that just mean you're jealous or something?”

the brown haired man freezes. “jealous..?”

“yeah. jealous. for example, if a girl i'm seeing or interested in is dancing with other men and doing things that only someone intimate would only do is obviously going to annoy the shit out of me. you'd want it to be you in their place, you get me?”

“you'd want it to be you in their place..” he echoes thoughtfully. looks up at moran. “then, would that indicate that i'm in love with that person?”

“well, not exactly love—it could just be infatuation.”

“then what does love feel like?”

“uhh, i guess your palms get sweaty and your heart beats fast and—” moran pauses. “wait, why do i have to be the one teaching you this shit? gross.”

“..” albert ponders to himself. “colonel, i think i'm in-”

moran shudders. “shut the hell up!”

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the day of your departure is nearing. you've packed all your clothes days before. you're nervous, but excited. this is a new chance for you aft life, and you'll gladly take it. you'll miss the people and the memories you've made here but you've decided to make some more. just somewhere else.

four days left.

albert spends most of his time in his office, lost in thought. he still isn't exactly sure what he feels for you is love — but seeing that man; francis or whatever that gibface's name was or even imagining anybody else, for that matter, touching you in that way would irk him greatly.

three days left.

not even alcohol lets him forget you. you're so deeply ingrained into his brain, too entangled with his soul. it's a strange feeling — this desperation to have you.

two days.

he's realized for sure that he loves you. he was always unfamiliar with the idea of love since childhood because it seemed to him that everyone around him were merely estranged with each other due to political reasons or for convenience.

even while growing up, he was always busy having to act as a shield for his younger brothers so that they could focus on themselves and the moriarty plan. he'd absorbed the limelight to himself but was always detached from forming any romantic relationships. 'what use would it do, anyway?' he often thought to himself, knowing the only fate awaiting him and his brothers was death.

but that had changed with your appearance into his life. he was a fool to realize it this late.

one day.

albert recalls it all; his sweaty palms when you treated him, if wasn't because of the room temperature — it was because you touched him.

the time that the two of you were supposedly 'having a marathon' to see who would get to your place first, it wasn't because he was running that his heart was beating out of his chest, it was because the two of you were side by side, elbows brushing and genuinely having a fun time together.

that time how his hands was trembling the time that the two of you were baking a cake, it wasn't because he was afraid of ruining the cake, it was because you were watching. it all made sense.

he had decided — tomorrow he would buy the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find, get to your place, earnestly apologise to you for his behaviour, tell you all about his realisations and properly ask for a chance to let him woo you.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

THE FINAL CHAPTER — “louis, do i look good?”

albert is standing infront of a lifesize mirror, watching louis from the corner of his eye as he enters with a tray of tea and breakfast in hand.

louis puts down the try, albert turns to look at his youngest brother - practically sweatdropping.

“you do, brother.” louis says, tilting his head. “but i'm curious; why are you asking me this?”

albert rubs the back of his neck. “i.. am going to go see (name). and tell her that i love her.” he tells louis & louis's lips broaden into a genuine, sincere smile.

“i am happy for you.” he tells his older brother, stepping forward to fix his cravat. “and i am glad you have finally noticed.”

albert laughs somewhat embarrassedly. “i see you were aware of my feelings even before i was.” he smiles. “does william know?”

“yes, it was obvious.” louis says, stepping back.

“it seems i have gone through all the trials and tribulations of pushing her away for nothing.” albert sighs, grinning nonetheless.

୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈ ≈

albert is probably carrying the biggest bouquet he's seen in his life. there are probably over a hundred (fave/colour) roses in this bouquet - but it's worth it.

it will all be worth it.

he rings the doorbell of your place. waits.

ten minutes have passed and yet he still waits.

twenty. thirty.

the door still doesn't open to him.

his arms have begin to ache with carrying the humongous bouquet and he exhales sadly.

“excuse me,” he begins when he sees an elderly woman come out of a house beside your own. “do you know where the owner of this house has gone?”

the elderly woman looks around her, not sure that the nobld was speaking to her. “me?”

“yes.” albert says. “do you know where she's gone?”

the woman ponders for a moment, “ah, right. you mean (name)?” she says when she remembers. “isn't she boarding the train for london today?”

he feels his heart falls to his feet.

“what?” albert asks weakly.

“mm, i'm not sure if i remember this correctly but i remember another noble—francis, i think his name was, coming around here and discussing with the lady about their departure and future plans.”

future plans? departure? him and you? together?

“w-when—” his voice is unsteady, panic written over his face. “when did they leave?”

“uhh..” the old woman looks around for a clock, remembers she has a pocket watch, opens it. “i think.. around thirty five to fourty minutes ago?”

“and the train, when is it supposed to leave?” his words are spoken hurriedly and looks at the elderly woman with wide, anxious eyes.

but the woman, due to her age isn't sure: “i don't know, young man. maybe.. hmm..”

time is ticking away.

tick-tock.

“i'm not exactly sure.” the elderly woman ponders thoughtfully. “my grandson..he told me about this..”

tick-tock.

“oh, right..!” the woman nods her head enthusiastically upon remembering.

“in i think— around 20 minutes?”

twenty minutes. getting to the station would take fifteen to seventeen minutes by carriage — and that's only possible if there isn't traffic on the road.

albert doesn't even have time to thank the elderly woman; the large bouquet is almost thrown aside as he begins to start sprinting. he's running down the street; looking for any carriage, any, to get to the train station as fast as he can.

he finds one after some searching, practically jumps in. “to the train station, please. and quick!”

the carriage begins to set off, horses trotting down the streets of durham in high speed. the horses run and run until they come to a halt — almost pushing the brown haired noble lunging out of his seat.

nineteen minutes.

“what is going on?” albert exclaims frustratedly, to which the carriage driver answers — “traffic. it seems there's been an accident.”

he huffs, looks down at his pocket watch.

eighteen minutes.

fuck it.

he takes out a small bag of coins from his pocket, passes it to the carriage driver and jumps off his seat.

“sir?” the carriage driver's eyes widen, alarmed.

“i'm getting off. keep the change.” he says to the driver before disappearing into the crowd.

seventeen minutes.

he pushes past people, rushing and scampering past the large huddle of people, exclaiming ‘excuse me’s, ‘sorry’s and ‘passing through’s as he gets through the crowd.

soon, he makes it past the site of accident and all the people swarming that place. he's never ran so fast in his life — he's getting out of breath.

sixteen minutes.

“haa.. haa..” albert's panting, breathing in irregular, hard inhales and breathing out in short exhales.

fifteen minutes.

his legs are hurting.

fourteen minutes.

he's sweating.

thirteen minutes.

his heart feels like it's going to fall out of his chest or just stop instantly. it's pumping, hard.

twelve minutes.

he doesn't know if it's due to the fear of never seeing you again or due to the constant, fast running but his legs begin to feel wobbly.

eleven minutes.

his knees are about to give up. he's sorry, so sorry.

ten minutes.

he can't give up — not now.

‘if there's really a god,’ he prays. ‘then at least let me make it on time.’

nine minutes.

he's grunting to keep on going forward. his ironed, white shirt is practically drenched in sweat now.

eight minutes, seven minutes, six minutes, five...

albert's neck is turning and twisting in all directions, trying to find your familiar face. he looks behind him, only sees a father holding up his child, he looks to his rest, only sees a couple holding hands, he looks to his right, only sees an elderly man feeding his grandson.

and then he looks in front of him. you. ten feet away.

“(name)..” he's panting, huffing, exhaling and inhaling all at once. “(name)!” he staggers forward to you.

you freeze in place.

this familiar voice, you've heard it before. “who—?” you turn around and your eyes widen in shock.

four minutes.

“i'm sorry.” he says, voice shaky. “i'm so, so sorry for everything. i should have never pushed you away — it was wrong of me. all those words, i should have never said them to you. i should have faced a lot of things properly, i should have faced you properly.”

“albert, what are you talking abou-”

“i love you.” his voice breaks, disperses at the end. “that is my answer; i love you too. i have loved you since i first laid my eyes on you, (name). and i'm sorry it took me so long to realize this, to say this.”

you watch him in stunned silence.

he's sweating — he looks haggard, his hair is messed up due to the wind, his shirt has become creased due to the constant running. he's exhausted; but he doesn't stop talking. he needs you to hear him out.

three minutes.

“yell at me, hit me, be angry at me for as long as you want to.” albert says. he takes out something from his pocket; your side bag, you realize. he holds it out to you. “i love everything about you, all your habits, your way of talking, thinking, the rise and fall of your laughter, this- this silly side bag of yours. i love it all.”

is this really happening?

“choose me, (name).” he pleads. “it doesn't matter if i have to spend the rest of my life being scorned by you, if it'll make up for even a fraction of—”

albert's eyes widen and he almost falls backwards. this warm sensation against his lips —

two minutes.

“mmhh..” he hums in surprise, feeling your soft lips against his own. his hands, big and warm situate themselves on your hips and he leans down to kiss you better, kiss you deeper. the two of you are almost running out of breath but neither of you want to pull back; this desperation, this passion is all too consuming for either of you to run away from.

when you pull back, the man almost whines for more. his forehead rests atop yours, eyes closed. “i.. don't know what you've heard,” your voice is hoarse, soft. “but francis is just my business partner.”

his emerald eyes open to meet your (e/c) ones and he breathes a deep, deep sigh of relief. “i see.” he says. “but why are you leaving so suddenly, then?”

“it's not sudden. remember the clinic i wanted to open in london? he'll offer the money to help me run it in exchange for my skills.”

albert groans. “if it was money you needed, i could have given it to you for free. i'll give you everything of mine to you without asking for a cost.”

“no,” you shake your head. “i couldn't do that. plus, the contract and all the necessary arrangements have already been made.”

one minute.

“passengers please board the train.”

you pull away from him. “will you wait for me until i return?” you begin to pull up your luggage but albert takes it from your hands and does it in your stead.

he nods. the two of you walk side by side over the cobbled floor and he helps you get onto the train, puts away your luggage and looks up at you from his position on the platform. “even if you ask me not to.”

“good.” you smile down at him, genuinely. you lean in to place a kiss on cheek and his emerald green eyes unconsciously flutter when you're close to him.

the train begins to move and albert takes a step back. “until next time, (name).” he smiles warmly at you - albeit there's a tinge of sadness on his face upon seeing you go. “i'll write you letters.” he pauses - adds in desperately, just in case: “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you grin. “and if we meet again,” you tell him, having to speak a little more loudly since the train is travelling away from the station. from him.

“don't be a stranger to me.”

the end.

#this took 10 years #off my life #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x you #albert james moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty x y/n #william james moriarty #louis james moriarty #sebastian moran #james bonde #fred porlock #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

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a/n: more svech! just straight up fluff happening here. i loved writing this one so much! i was going to save this for svech’s birthday on sunday but i’m an adhd bitch and couldn’t wait lol so now we’re celebrating the canes clinching a playoff spot. (also fully exposing my mister svechnikov kink by adding it into every fic sorry not sorry)

word count: 7.2k (i am INCAPABLE of not blathering on about svech apparently)

tw: like super mild childbirth and more google-translate russian

summary: you and andrei welcome your first baby

“I don’t know,” Andrei’s hand is splayed flat over your stomach while he lies in bed next to you, “maybe I should talk to Rod. See if I can stay home until the baby’s here.” The baby rolls and kicks at his hand and Andrei’s lips turn up into a soft smile. His eyes are still a little cloudy and conflicted though.

You stretch out your legs, trying to ease the pain in your hip from having to lay on your side. “You’re only going to Nashville. It’s not far and I’m due in a week and a half. Plenty of time for you to get there and back without having to let your boys down.”

Andrei starts to protest, but you shake your head. “I know you don’t want to miss any games so close to the playoffs, Drei. And I also know that you’re not going to miss baby being born. We can do it all.”

He rubs at your stomach again, looking deep in thought. “Nashville is two days. To get there, to play, and to come back - more like three. What if you go into labor during the game?”

“Then,” you yawn, “I’ll have someone pull you off the ice and you can come straight to the hospital. Labor takes hours. Honestly, Drei, you’re not going to miss it.”

You know he wants to be there for you and for the team, especially coming down the home stretch of the regular season when the Canes are holding onto first in the Metro. You love that he’s so dedicated to his team and honestly, the thought of him sitting around and staring at you, waiting for you to pop, isn’t that relaxing. He’s attentive, but sometimes you need a bit of space.

Andrei rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He huffs a sigh before rolling back onto his side to look at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him. “Plus all four of our parents are going to be here in a couple of days. There’s no shortage of people who can get me to a hospital and call you, if we need it.”

He looks a little more reassured now, remembering that his parents are flying in on Tuesday, just hours after he flies out to Nashville. Your parents are only a forty-five minute drive away, so the second labor starts, if Andrei isn’t around, you can call them. You kick the blankets off your legs, too hot and uncomfortable in the unseasonably warm early spring weather. All you want to do is lie on your stomach and stretch out, but thanks to the giant belly bump, that’s a no-go. You’ve always been aware that Andrei was big and tall, but you hadn’t really thought about it until your baby was all squished up in your stomach, your skin stretched uncomfortably. It really does feel like you’re snuggling a watermelon around, and especially now that the baby’s dropped in the last few days, you’re really feeling uncomfortable.

Andrei’s hand rubs soft circles over the peak of your stomach, tapping the spots that the baby kicks in a little game. He props his head up on his palm and traces his fingers over your skin. “I can’t believe he’ll be here in a week,” he says.

“Or she,” you counter cheekily. “But yeah, it’s feeling a little scary now.”

The nursery’s been done for about two weeks now - painted and decorated around Andrei’s travel schedule. You have your hospital bag packed and ready in the front hall closet. The freezer is stocked full of meals your mom had made and delivered last week. All that’s left now is to wait for baby to make their appearance.

You shift on the bed, your lower back sore and stiff. “Drei…” you pout, “will you rub my back?” You blink wide eyes up at him and he smiles, needing no extra begging or encouragement to help you into a sitting position.

He opens his legs and settles you in between them, warm, large hands coming to rest on your lower back. “Here, solnyshka?” He asks, thumbs already digging into the stiff muscles. You hum an affirmative response, leaning forward as much as your stomach will allow and enjoying the pleasant stretch of your back. His hands work out the knots smoothly and you melt, finally getting a little relief.

“I can’t wait to finally not have to carry around this watermelon,” you sigh, hands cradling your stomach.

Andrei’s hands work up your back to your shoulders, “I can’t wait to hold the baby all the time, to make up for the nine months you did all the work.” He kisses behind your ear and digs his thumb into a particularly painful knot by your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you gasp, going limp as the muscle releases. You sag back against his chest, trapping Andrei’s hands in between your bodies. “That felt so good. Forget hockey, become my personal masseuse.”

“Isn’t that already my side job?” He teases, fingers fluttering against your back where they’re stuck. You shift a little and he pulls his arms out and immediately rests them on the underside of your stomach, lifting gently so some of the pressure is off your pelvis.

A strangled noise of contentment escapes your throat and you lean further back against him. “Full time, I need back massages and bump lifting full time, Drei.”

“Whatever you want, solnyshka,” he tucks your head under his chin and sits still so you can relax. He’s so warm and solid you find your eyes closing, finally in a comfortable enough position to sleep a little.

A sharp jab to your bladder - a little foot or elbow, most likely - startles you awake with a wince. You shift, Andrei’s arms still encircling your body. He’s snoring softly in your ear and you realize that he fell asleep too, holding you against his chest. His head is tilted back against the headboard and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s out like a light, even when you wiggle a little to try and get off the bed. The need to use the bathroom is urgent.

“Mmm, solnyshka?” He mumbles, waking up a bit when you gently push his arms off of you.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper into the dark. “I just have to pee.”

Andrei hums another response, but swings his legs off the bed and steadies you with a hand on your lower back and the other on your hip. His eyes are shut the entire time and he’s snoring again by the time you’re halfway to the bathroom. His legs are still dangling off the bed and you shake your head a little. Once you finish in the bathroom, you take a minute to look in the mirror, turning to the side and smoothing your shirt over your stomach. In a week or less, this bump is going to be a baby in your arms. You can’t wait to meet it, to see which of your features or Andrei’s are stronger.

“Just wait until Daddy is home, okay, baby?” You whisper, rubbing your palm over a spot low on you stomach where the baby’s jabbed a limb. “That better be a yes, mom, whatever you say.”

Andrei’s still half hanging off the bed when you waddle - god, you’re sick of the waddling! - back into the bedroom. He’s exhausted, between the travel, the actual playing, and being there for you, no matter what you need. You wish there were a way to let him keep sleeping while putting him back on the bed properly, but there really isn’t, so you carefully crawl back onto your side of the bed and situate yourself with the giant body pillows wrapped around your body and then reach out to nudge Andrei’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, “Drei, baby, get back into bed.”

He startles, blinking into the dark, and rubs a hand over his face. “Huh?” He looks around and seems to realize that his feet are on the floor while his upper body is in bed. “Oh,” he mutters, pulling his legs back up on the bed and under the covers. He reaches for you, still clearly half-asleep, and you let him pull you closer. The body pillow is entirely in the way and Andrei grumbles. “I hate this pillow,” he mutters, doing his best to wrap his body around yours.

“Just a little bit longer,” you mumble, fully knowing that you may never sleep without the body pillow again. It’s just so damn comfortable.

You wish you could sleep in the next morning, but even though Andrei is doing his best to be quiet while he gets ready, the baby is apparently dealing with hiccups. It’s like a little alien in your stomach and it’s both weirdly endearing and also freaking you out a little. You’re awake by 7:30, but you just stay in bed, smoothing your hand over your stomach, watching the way it jumps around.

“So freaky,” you mutter. Eventually Andrei wanders back into your room, holding a protein shake and already a little sweaty.

“Morning, milaya,” he drops a kiss on your lips and you squint at him.

“Did you already fit in a workout?”

He ruffles the hair on the back of his head, a little sheepish, “yeah. I woke up early. Ah, I’m getting a little nervous.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you reach out for his hand. You stroke your thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. He squeezes your fingers gently.

“I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But we’re the ultimate team, right? I don’t know what I’m doing and you don’t either. But we’ll learn together.”

Andrei lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the underside of your wrist. He rests his cheek against the back of your hand and you wiggle your fingers against his stubble, smiling slightly.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you say, one-hundred percent confident in your statement.

He chews on his lower lip, absorbing your words, and nods. “If I’m half as good of a dad as you will be a mom, then I think the baby will be okay,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. You sigh into his mouth.

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” you joke. “Now please help me up because I really can’t do it on my own anymore.”

Andrei obliges, pulling you to your feet and watching attentively as you go slowly about your morning routine. You shoo him out of the room after fifteen minutes, starting to get agitated with his hovering. “Drei, please, I’m fine. Just go shower and get ready to go to your skate,” you sigh, twisting your hair into a pair of messy braids and pinning them up into a milkmaid style so it’s off your neck.

“Okay, sorry, milaya,” he kisses the nape of your neck and ducks into the shower, leaving you time to change into a different lounge set and head for the kitchen. Nothing sounds appealing to you, mild nausea making your stomach roll. You settle for popping a slice of bread into the toaster and grabbing an avocado. You lean your elbow on the counter and prop your chin in the palm of your hand, yawning while you wait for your toast. Sleep quality really had declined the last few weeks.

Andrei’s back in the kitchen as you’re eating the avocado straight from its peel. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow and lips twitching in an effort to hide his amusement. You wrinkle your nose at him. “I didn’t want the toast,” you explain, gesturing at the butter smeared bread with your spoon. “You can have it, if you want.”

He snags the toast with two fingers and kisses the side of your head. “Spasibo. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the rink, if you need anything, okay?” He asks around a mouthful of bread.

You nod, “be careful. Love you.”

After he leaves, you tidy the kitchen and the living room, even though neither are all that dirty. You just mostly want to keep moving a bit - once you sit down, you’re basically not getting up for God or country.

By the time Andrei gets home for his pre-game nap and meal, he finds you curled up on the couch, sobbing at an episode of Bones. He’s immediately kneeling on the floor in front of you, running his hands over you thighs, “hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“We’re fine,” you wave him off with a sniffle. “It’s just…Bones and Booth danced around their relationship for so long! And I forgot how unsatisfying it was when they finally got together.”

Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy before schooling his features into a more neutral expression. He sucks his upper lip in between his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. He rubs at your knee soothingly, “how about you come nap with me? Take a break from the TV.”

You nod, rubbing at your damp eyes like an overtired toddler. The hormones are fluctuating wildly today. Andrei gently helps you get to your feel and trails after you to the bedroom. “How was morning skate?” You ask, climbing into bed. Andrei wraps his body around yours, the big spoon to your little, and buries his face in your hair.

“Good, it was nice to get a little energy flowing before the game,” he mumbles into your hair. His arms are a secure cocoon of warmth around you and the baby kicks where his palm is splayed flat over the side of your stomach. “Hello to you too, little one,” he says a little louder.

You snuggle into his embrace and fall asleep easily, the hour long nap passing faster than you had thought. Andrei gets up and starts getting dressed, while you watch. He’s in game mode now, more serious than before, more in his head. You know he’s thinking about the plays that were surely drawn up during morning skate. He steps into his suit pants - a new plaid number that is a mild assault on the eyes, but he’s so damn handsome he makes it work - and does a little hop in place when he does up the button and fly. You’re blatantly ogling him when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the hamper.

“Creep,” he teases you, catching you looking.

“Don’t be so handsome then,” you shoot back, pointedly rubbing your stomach.

His smile turns a little feral and his eyes darken. “You look good like that, pregnant with my baby,” his voice is low and you press your thighs together.

You shake your finger at him, “no way, keep it in your pants, Mister Svechnikov, that’s how we ended up here in the first place.”

He laughs, eyes twinkling and dimple popping, finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I didn’t hear any complaints,” he says casually.

“Give it a week or so and I’m sure you’ll be hearing a few complaints,” you wince at a particularly strong kick lands somewhere in the vicinity of your ribs. “I know it’s cramped in there, but easy on the ribs,” you murmur to your stomach.

Andrei finishes getting ready, eats a quick meal, and is back on the road. He’ll be at the arena nearly three hours before the game, but you know it’s part of his routine. Besides, Brady likes to get there early too, so you know he won’t be alone. More likely, Brady will be alone while Andrei handles the puck by the boards before people start coming.

You send Andrei your usual pre-game text and make yourself a light dinner. The TV gets switched to the pre-game and you settle on the couch with your book and laptop. Your mom checks in with you, FaceTiming for a bit, and Elena is texting too, confusing you a little with the time difference, but she’s so excited to get into town tomorrow. The WAG group chat is buzzing too - asking how you are and sending pictures of the kids at the game. You doze off during the game, but wake up to a winning score for the Canes mid-way through the third. The score holds and Andrei comes home bouncy and full of energy.

“Four game point streak!” You grin, cheering for him as he comes into the house.

Andrei blushes and waves you off. “Team effort,” is all he says, even though he was a driving force on the ice. He drops to his knees next to the couch and rubs your stomach. “How’s baby?”

“Kicking away,” you card your fingers through Andrei’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to kick her way out, like in Alien.”

“Gross,” Andrei pulls a face and then ducks closer to your stomach, whispering to the bump. And in Russian too, so even though you can hear him, you can’t understand him.

You nudge his shoulder with a foot. “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share them with everyone,” you tease.

He shakes his head, “it’s between a father and his child.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes affectionately, pouting a bit. “Take me to bed, Mister Svechnikov, it’s past my bedtime and growing your child is making me sleepy.”

“Whatever you want, Mrs. Svechnikova,” he grins.

All of his post-game excitement is worn off by the next morning and he’s back to worrying about missing the baby’s birth. “Please, Drei, go to Nashville,” you sigh, rubbing at your lower back. “You’ll be back Thursday afternoon. Your mom and dad are coming in this afternoon. There’s nothing happening.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he protests. His phone is on the counter and his fingers twitch, like he’s going to snatch it up and text Rod any second. You bat the phone away from him and scowl.

“Go to the game, Andrei,” you say firmly. “If anything happens, and it won’t, I’ll make sure someone gets the message to you and gets you on a plane back here, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, clearly wanting to argue with you more, but catches sight of the look on your face and wisely shuts his mouth. Eventually, he’s all packed up and is kissing you good-bye so he can head to the airport. “I love you, milaya,” he says against your temple.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, starting to feel a little emotional. Damn hormones. “I’m sorry I keep snapping at you.”

He chuckles a bit. “It’s okay, you’re allowed. I’ll see you in two days, okay?” His hands come up to cradle your belly. “Keep mama company, okay little one?”

You sniffle and laugh a little wetly. “I’ve got a foot wedged in my ribs, I’m never alone,” you joke.

With one more kiss, Andrei is off and you’re alone. It’s not like this is the first time he’s been gone during the last nine months, and there have been periods where he was gone even longer than two days, but maybe it’s because you’re so close to your due date that you’re feeling extra emotional.

To distract yourself, you make sharlotka - an apple cake from a recipe Elena sent you a few weeks ago when your main craving had been apples dipped in honey. She and Igor are already en route to Raleigh and you invited them over for dinner when they land, mostly to keep you company so you don’t go crazy.

Andrei’s in Nashville and has texted you about fifteen times by the time his parents Uber to your place. You click over onto FaceTime and grin at him, “you can relax, my love. The calvary is here.” You turn the camera and his parents wave at him.

“We will take good care of her, Andreyusha,” Elena blows him a kiss.

“But we will not save you any cake,” Igor teases, holding up his plate, having immediately beelined for the dessert.

Andrei looks a little put out about the cake, but relieved that you’re not alone. “I thought you were going to relax?”

“A girl has to eat,” you tease. “We’re good here, focus on the game and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Elena and Igor end up staying in the guest room, exhausted from the travel, and you reap the rewards when you wake up to a full breakfast spread. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elena shrugs, her smile just like Andrei’s. “Besides, I needed to make sure my doch and grandbaby are well-fed.”

She pats your cheek and sets a plate full of eggs, toast, fruit, and bacon in front of you. You blink at the amount of food, knowing you’re definitely not going to be able to eat it all, but thank her effusively.

“I didn’t even think we had bacon or all this fruit in the house,” you comment, nibbling at a corner of the toast.

“You didn’t,” Elena laughs. “I went to the grocery store.”

“Oh, gosh! Elena, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

She waves you off, bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “This is vacation. With family, waiting for the baby? My girl, this is exactly what I want to do.”

“Oh, okay,” you slump back in the chair, trying to stretch your back. “If you’re sure…”

“I am sure, now eat some eggs. The calcium is good for growing the baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you jokingly salute and dig into the eggs. They’re actually really good - soft and creamy and definitely hitting the spot. You’re finishing breakfast when Igor comes through the front door. You do a double-take - you thought he had been upstairs this whole time.

“Can’t have breakfast without pastries,” he winks at you, setting a bakery bag on the counter. His mischievous smile is just like Andrei’s. Elena pulls out a box stuffed full of croissants, muffins, turnovers, and doughnuts.

“Oh, wow,” you grin, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “A girl could definitely get used to this treatment.”

After breakfast, you try to help clean up but are forced back down into the chair. They ask if you and Andrei have picked a name and that’s a big fat no. Neither one of you can agree on a name you like. You have a little idea forming in the back of your head, but you don’t want to say anything to Andrei until the baby’s born.

It’s a beautiful April day in Raleigh, so Elena hustles you all outside for a walk in the fresh air. It’s slow going since you’re hauling around the giant baby bump, but the fresh air feels good and the walk is helping the stiffness in your lower back. You assume the stereotypical pregnant woman pose, with your hands bracing at your lower back while you walk.

A little cramp ripples over your stomach and you wince, pressing your fingers into the spot. You wait, but it doesn’t happen again, so you figure it was probably breakfast settling. But you’re on alert for the rest of the day, just in case. The only thing still bothering you at dinner time is your lower back, but that’s been sore and stiff for two weeks now, so you assume it’s just from the weight of carrying the baby.

At least, that’s what you assume until it’s thirty minutes to puck drop and you feel a slight popping sensation between your legs, accompanied by a trickle of liquid.

You stand stock still for a beat and then mutter, “oh, shit. Andrei’s going to kill me.”

Elena looks up from her book and frowns at you, “what’s going on?”

“I, ah, think my water broke,” you grip the countertop tightly. Liquid continues to drip down your thighs and there’s a little cramp like the one you felt earlier. “Oh, yeah, definitely my water breaking.”

Andrei’s parents jump up from their spots on the couch and from there it’s a flurry of action. You call your mom and she has your dad in the car before you can even get a word in beyond “hey, mom, I’m in labor.” They’ll be at your place within the hour.

A stronger cramp grips your stomach and now you realize that you’ve been feeling contractions for the last day or so. Andrei’s going to be so annoyed that you made him go to Nashville. Warm-ups have started and you know that Andrei’s unreachable by phone for the foreseeable future. You still text him anyway (“hi sorry i said nothing was gonna happen but i’m in labor 😅😬”) and when another contraction hits fifteen minutes after the last one, you figure it’s about time to head to the hospital.

While Igor drives, you text Heather Staal, wondering if she can get ahold of Jordan or Rod to let Andrei know before he gets on the ice. She promises to try and get the message across, reassuring you that you’ll be fine and Andrei won’t miss a thing. You really hope she’s right, because you’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.

You settle a bit once you get admitted and changed into the flimsy hospital gown. Your parents get to the hospital just a few minutes after you do and your mom immediately joins Elena in your room, making sure you have everything you need.

Right now, you just really need Andrei.

Your dad and Igor are in the waiting room watching, ironically, the Canes game. They pop back into the room every few minutes to offer an update.

“He’s still on the bench.”

“Took a shift, had an assist on a Brady goal.”

“Still on the ice.”

“First intermission and he’s going back to the room. No one looks like they’ve told him anything.”

You huff through increasing contractions while they update you, getting irritated.

“Start of the second, oh, he’s still on the bench.”

“What the fuck,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and texting Heather again. She’s sympathetic, but had texted Rod and wasn’t sure what was happening. You’re halfway ready to call Bridgestone’s main line and start screaming.

Your dad skids into the room while you’re gripping your mom’s hand through a contraction. “He’s off the ice! Looks like one of the assistant coaches told Rod something and then Andrei was yanked off the bench.”

You start crying, relieved that Andrei is finally going to be on his way.

Not even fifteen minutes later, he FaceTimes you.

“I’m on my way, solnyshka, I’ll be there soon,” the words burst out of his mouth. He’s half dressed, shirt buttoned all wrong and sweaty hair mussed over his forehead. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, it hurts, obviously, but I’m okay. Just get here in one piece, okay? I’m so sorry I made you go to the game,” you wipe at the tears on your face, pressing your lips together to smother a shout as another contraction hits.

Andrei’s face is pale on your phone’s screen. “It’s not your fault. I’m on my way now, just hold on for a little bit.” He tells you he loves you and hangs up as he runs out of the locker room.

While you suffer through the contractions, Andrei texts you with updates. He’s booked on a flight out of Nashville that doesn’t leave until 10 and he’s clearly annoyed about it - there’s not a single emoji in his messages. You try not to freak out that he’s going to miss anything. At your last check, you were only 3 centimeters dilated, so there’s still hours of labor ahead of you. You pace the hallways, holding the IV pole keeping you hydrated, with your mom and Elena at your back for support. When you walk past a TV, it’s turned to the post-game and Rod is fielding a question about Andrei’s abrupt departure during the second.

Rod smiles on screen, “well, I’ll tell you it wasn’t for anything bad. His wife’s in labor back home, so as soon as we heard that, Svechy took off. Don’t think any of us could’ve stopped him even if we wanted to. We’re wishing the both of them the best of luck and can’t wait to hear about the newest member of the Caniac family. Next question?”

You start crying again, overly tired and overly emotional. You just want Andrei.

The epidural is administered around 11:30 and you doze off for a bit, waking up confused when a particularly bad contraction hits. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything?” You whine, gripping the rails of the bed.

The nurse hums at you sympathetically, “they’re not totally 100% effective, hon.”

You glare at her, but she’s clearly used to worse, because it doesn’t phase her at all. She just continues taking your vitals and making her notes.

Once the contraction passes, you ask, “have you seen my parents and in-laws?”

“I think the dads left, saying something about the airport, and the moms are in the coffee shop downstairs,” she pats your hand. “Sounds like you might be getting your husband here soon.”

And you do.

Thankfully, Andrei’s flight was right on time and smooth, so he landed in Raleigh at midnight and with your dad breaking speed limits, is at the hospital and by your side before 1:30. He skids into the room, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry, mne zhal, I’m so sorry, my love,” he babbles, stopping at your side and stroking your hair off your forehead before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m here. I didn’t know, they didn’t tell me until the second…”

The tears flow easily and you grip Andrei’s hand like never before. “I don’t care, I’m just glad you’re here now,” you break off into a shout and curl up when the contraction hits. Stupid fucking epidural.

He keeps hold of your hand and strokes your hair, murmuring in Russian. With his other hand, he rakes his hair off his face. Once you let go, he takes off his suit jacket, tossing it on the spare chair, and rolls up the sleeves of his button down. “How long, do the doctors say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Last check, I was like 6 or 7 centimeters.”

All four of your parents are hovering at the doorway and you wave them in with a sigh. Elena hands Andrei a coffee and a sandwich, kissing his cheek when he leans down. “Eat up, you are going to have a long night,” she says, smiling and barely hiding her excitement.

“Spasibo, mama,” he sighs, taking a long drink of coffee. Half the cup is gone and you watch him enviously. Your mom sets another cup down on the little railing tray table.

“That’ll be cold before you get to it,” she says, “but I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Andrei thanks her too and thanks the dads for getting him to the hospital so quickly. They both shrug him off, also barely concealing their excitement. Andrei laughs, “now, I think we’d like a little privacy?” He looks over at you and you nod tiredly. The four parents are kind of a lot to deal with all at once. He grabs the tangle of keys from his pocket and passes them to his dad. “Can you bring me a change of clothes and my car?”

Of course, Igor agrees and all four parents follow him from the room, debating on who will go and which cars they’re going to switch around. You honestly don’t care what they do, just that they leave.

Once they’re all gone, Andrei sucks in a deep breath and sits on the edge of the bed. “Okay, just us now,” he says, sounding a little dazed.

“Just us and the kid,” you reply, exhausted.

“Just us and the kid,” he repeats, smiling slightly. “The timing on this kid,” he shakes his head.

“I know,” you laugh. “I really didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“It’s all happening now though,” Andrei holds your hand, barely flinching when you squeeze.

Your labor stalls briefly and then it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re pushing. Andrei’s at your side, holding one of your legs up by the thigh. He has the other arm wrapped around your shoulders and you’re nearly bent in half. The doctor counts down from ten and then you’re allowed to slump back against the pillows for a few seconds of a break.

“It hurts,” you sob, grasping for Andrei’s hands. He wipes at your tears.

“I know, I know, but you’re doing so good,” he croons. “You’re doing so good and we’ll have a baby soon.”

You’re instructed to push again and Andrei cheers you on, murmuring encouragement in your ear. You shriek, your entire body too hot and too tight and then there’s a release and a different cry.

“Oh,” you drop back against the pillows, suddenly empty.

Andrei looks down at you in shock and then at the baby that’s held in the doctor’s hands, bloody and screaming. He laughs and kisses you deeply, “it’s a girl! A little girl, moya koroleva. You did it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, vibrating with excitement.

“A girl?” You cry, laughing with joy when the baby’s held up and placed on your chest. “Oh my god, it’s a girl.” Your hands wrap around the baby instinctively, cradling her little head, sobbing as you look at her features.

Andrei’s crying too, his eyes red. He wipes the back of his wrist under his nose and presses her forehead against your temple. “She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” His voice is hoarse and tears are dripping onto your bare shoulder.

“Drei,” you whisper, full of emotion, and he gets it, kissing you deeply.

“I am so proud of you, my love. My two girls. My best girls,” he laughs, disbelieving. He settles one hand on the baby’s back and she looks impossibly small under his touch.

Time seems to blur from there and you’re allowed to keep the baby on your chest while the nurses run their tests. You hear snippets - she’s 6 pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long - but otherwise you have tunnel vision on the gorgeous little baby that’s all yours and Andrei’s. Andrei gets her for skin-to-skin time while they clean you up and you sob again, watching him cradle her on one forearm. He looks up at you, hair flopping over his forehead, exhausted dark circles under his eyes, and beams at you, full dimple and missing tooth showing.

“I love you,” he mouths and then he looks back down at the baby, his expression soft and awed.

Before you know it, you’ve managed to feed the baby and get in a little nap in your private room. Andrei’s stretched out on the little couch, feet dangling over the edge. He hasn’t changed, even though his dad brought back clothes hours ago, so he’s still in his suit pants and dress shoes, button down shirt half-buttoned. He’s dozing too, getting in a nap since he’s been awake for over 24 hours at this point. At some point you know the four parents are going to be bursting down the door to meet her, but for now, they’re respectfully staying at your house until you call to give the okay to come by. It’s nice that they’re letting you and Andrei have time to bond with her, although from the amount of crying when Andrei had called to tell them it was a girl, you don’t think they’ll be able to hold off too much longer.

The nurse brings in the baby in her little plastic bassinet, cheerfully transferring her to your arms so you can feed her again. “Does she have a name?” the nurse asks, getting you all situated. It’s the second time you’ve been asked about her name, but you haven’t had a chance to run your idea by Andrei.

Before you can answer, Andrei’s voice cuts in. “Yeah,” he yawns, “does she have a name?”

You laugh, “no, not yet. But I did have an idea.”

Andrei looks at you expectantly, but you wait until the nurse leaves to speak. Without looking at him, you trace your finger over the slope of the baby’s nose - your nose - and it twitches, like a little rabbit. Andrei smiles at the sight.

“A little zaychik,” he says, watching her nose twitch again while she sucks at your nipple. “What name did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you start, looking up at him, “she needs a name that means something to us. I’d like to name her after someone that means a lot to us too. A name that can inspire her and well, what do you think of Evgenia? Evie for short.”

Andrei’s face freezes and his hand is still against the bottom of the baby’s foot where he’s been stroking with his index finger. He coughs, swallows. “For Geno?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “since he’s your best friend. I thought it might be nice to honor him.”

Andrei’s eyes well up and he runs the back of his wrist under his nose again while nodding. “I…yeah, solnyshka, yeah. I like that. I think he’ll like it too.” He sniffles and kisses your forehead. Looking down at the baby, he strokes her little hand where it rests on the swell of your breast. “What do you think, Evgenia? Are you an Evie?”

Evie’s little nose twitches again and you press your lips together to muffle a little cry. Seems like that’s settled.

“Evie,” you murmur, heart bursting with love. “She’s going to be the best adventure, huh?”

“We’ll definitely have a good story to tell her about her birth,” he laughs a little wetly, taking her from your arms when she’s done eating. He burps her the way the nurse showed him earlier, looking like a natural. Evie sighs and settles, falling asleep in his arms, her little lips pursed in a pout.

While she’s sleeping, Andrei pulls his phone from his pocket and FaceTimes Geno, clicking the volume lower so his brother’s shouted greeting of excitement doesn’t wake the baby. It’s well after breakfast in San Jose and Geno is outside, sun shining brightly behind him.

“Well? My baby brother has a baby?” Geno grins. “Mama called, but wouldn’t tell me if it’s a boy or a girl or the name. Said you two wanted to share that news. Although you didn’t have a name picked when she called.”

Andrei settles on the mattress next to you and you wave at Geno, a tired smile on your face. “That’s because we just picked it like ten minutes ago,” you laugh.

“You look good, mladshaya sestra,” Geno says warmly. “Now don’t keep me waiting. Uncle Geno’s dying to hear.”

Andrei angles his phone down so Evie’s face fills the screen and you can hear Geno’s exclamation of excitement. “Meet your niece, Evgenia Svechnikova. Evie for short.”

Geno’s speechless for a moment and then he starts rambling in Russian, his voice hoarse and clearly emotional. Andrei’s crying again and then you’re crying and the only one not crying is the actual hours-old baby.

“Evie,” Geno repeats. “She’s beautiful.” He pauses and then jokes, “clearly takes after her namesake.”

Andrei shifts the phone back up so it’s just the adults on screen and you can see Geno wiping at his eyes. You lean your head against Andrei’s shoulder.

“I love you guys,” Geno says.

“We love you too, Uncle Geno,” you reply.

“I’m hanging up before you make me cry again,” he laughs, waving and ending the call. Andrei chuckles and sets his phone down on the mattress near his leg.

“That went well,” he deadpans, a smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell your parents her name,” you smirk. “I don’t think there’s enough tissues in the greater-Raleigh area for the flood that’s gonna come out of your mom.”

Andrei looks down at Evie, “are you ready to meet your babushki and dedushki, zaychik?”

Evie continues to sleep soundly, her little face twitching as she dreams.

“I think the question is if we’re ready for the babushki and dedushki,” you tease, holding onto Andrei’s bicep with one hand and tracing the shell of Evie’s ear with the other. She’s just so perfect, you could stare at her forever.

The grandparents are invited to come by after dinner, after you’ve sent Andrei home to shower and eat a real meal. The nurses take Evie to the nursery and you get a solid chunk of sleep. Andrei’s back before you know it, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a little shopping bag in the other.

“What’s that?” You sit up, curious, and set aside your phone. It’s been blowing up with congratulations from your family members and the team.

He sets the takeout bag in front of you, “sushi, as requested.”

You moan happily, “oh thank God, I’ve been craving a spicy tuna roll.” You dig into the food while Andrei sets the other bag on the mattress. He looks a little embarrassed, ears pink, so you wait for him to share.

“I passed by that boutique you like,” he says, pulling out a tissue paper wrapped bundle. “And saw this.” He unwraps it and a little beige onesie spills out, softly ribbed fabric extending up into a hood with a pair of floppy bunny ears attached.

“Oh!” You gasp, all thoughts of sushi forgotten as you take the little outfit. “Drei!” You start crying again. “It’s so cute!”

“Evie needs to be dressed in her finest to meet the grandparents,” he laughs.

“Dressed as a little baby bunny,” you cry, wiping at your face. “Dammit, these hormones are killing me. Ugh, Drei, I love this. I love it and I love you and I love her and I…” You break off into a choking little sob-laugh. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

He wraps you up in a hug and you cry into his shoulder - he smells like laundry detergent and home. “I can’t either,” he agrees, exhaling in disbelief. Yesterday you were a duo and now you’re a trio.

Andrei pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, eyes twinkling. “Should I go get the little zaychik? Get her all presentable for the grandparents?”

When he brings her back, Evie’s dressed in the little bunny onesie, waving her hands in the air and you promptly start sobbing again. Andrei patiently rubs your back while you blubber about how adorable she is.

He settles her in your arms, already a natural at holding her. You knew he was going to be an amazing dad, but you could never have imagined this.

“Your dada is the best man in the world, Evie,” you whisper to her, kissing a little baby fist when she waves it around. Andrei just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, a sweet, tired smile on his face.

Considering the fact that your entire lives have just changed, you’ve never felt happier.

#andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #carolina hurricanes

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formulatrash · 2 months

Note

I was working on gaining experience in motorsport but now I don't want to anymore due to the news. I have been torn up about this since it was announced. Am I even safe working in this industry? Is it only a matter of time?

I think there are two things to take from this: even in an organisation as closed-ranks as Red Bull, this was investigated. And although it's depressing to see many people either expressing disbelief or seeking to discredit the victim, there are a much larger number of people outraged. Not just that it happened but with the entire process, including the way it is being played as a political trophy within Red Bull as an organisation and the wider reaction of Formula 1 and the FIA.

In every industry, there are imbalances in power that lead to exploitation. Ableism, racism, sexism and homophobia go hand in hand with unfairnesses like nepotism and favouritism. Some industries, especially those that people really want to work in and where there are limited opportunities, have it worse - you see it in acting, in games, in music, in motorsport.

Nowhere is safe from the structural inequalities that frame the world. In any job you'll be in some level of danger. That's not intended as a blanket scare or as some way to minimise or dismiss the specific (and extremely unpleasant) case being brought this week.

I definitely have experienced sexism and outright attempts at exploitation/abuse in motorsport. A man who's still a popular pundit spent several years lying to me and even though I'm really not this naiive, somehow convincing me to exchange lewds. Another one who's in a senior editorial position routinely sends me obscene messages. Men from teams and championships and heritage programmes have tried to get me to fuck them and I'm not young or hot or particularly desirable - it's just that I was there and a woman and so it's almost seen as obligatory that they do it, so they can dismiss you as a slut.

I wrote a little about this when the Mazepin thing came out a few years ago. It resonated with a painful number of women across motorsport, I got hundreds of messages after it was posted.

But. This is being taken seriously. There is a clear level of discomfort within the wider paddock about Horner's presence - some of that is political, it is in the teams' interests for there to be disruption at Red Bull. But a lot is clearly pretty visceral horror and anger at both the reputational damage to the sport and what's happened.

Do not let the fact that there are gross people out there deter you from a dream. Do let yourself be angry about it and mould that anger into a toolkit to address it. Look out for the people around you, try to promote positive workplace cultures, call out unpleasant behaviours, especially in scenarios where you are relatively unaffected. (eg: if you're a straight woman and someone says something gross about a gay man, if you're a white person and someone says something racist, etc)

Motorsport needs good people to work in it to change. It needs you far more than you need it. Don't let it reverse or exploit that and you will have a level of power that constitutes safety because you won't let it damage you for the sake of getting something it isn't offering. (If someone is behaving exploitatively then they are not giving you anything, they are trying to see what they can take)

It's been a shit week. I feel awful for the woman who's been doxxed, robbed of compensation and had her career ruined. Who's being discussed and discredited by the paddock, by journalists, by the most toxic fans. In a just world, people would be protecting her but that would need the population of all those groups to change significantly.

So don't let it put you off. Let it make you keener to displace them.

#f1 asks #cn: christian horner

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mqverick · 4 months

Text

your woman || ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

mature themes, 18+

very detailed smut, dni if you’re a minor

“just use me up and then you walk away

boy, you can’t play me that way”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

Every time Charlie Babbitt opened his mouth, it seemed like a never-ending awards ceremony was on, a lazy smirk living permanently on the corners of his lips. It was as if the idea of someone questioning him was both amusing and absurd. Charlie’s ego was so immense, it practically had its own gravitational pull. It was the sun in his universe, with everything and everyone else relegated to mere planetary status.

If the work didn’t pay well, you wouldn’t had bared a single second next to him, leaving to finally rest at your home with his excessively loud yelling still ringing in your ears, the annoyed sighs, the rude commands. To sum things up, Charlie Babbitt was the kind of man to drive you insane even if you were walking on sunshine.

It surprised you when he first announced that he’d preferred little old you over Lee to come along with him on a business trip in Palm Springs.

The response that rolled on the tip of your tongue at first was a big fat no. Why on earth would you want to spend an entire weekend with that nerve wrecking boss of yours when you could just enjoy the rewarding silence and comfort of your own home? But then again, when Charlie had his mind set on something, he stuck with it until the end.

In other words, whether you liked it or not, you were going on a little ‘getaway’ with him. Turned out, though, that his plans got disrupted by the sudden death of his father, forcing him to take a turn and drag you along to Cincinnati, where the funeral was taking place. You found out later on in the car that Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of his father due to the lack of emotion he showed throughout the ride. You didn’t care to ask, simply letting out an annoyed groan every now and then to piss him off even further.

For four hours, you were participating in a scoff contest with him, winner would be the one with the longest, most pained sigh. Things got even worse — if possible — after Charlie spoke to the family lawyer about his inheritance, which was as disappointing as getting to work for him all day long. Couple of rose bushes and a stupid car.

“For fuck’s sake, Charlie, can you quit complaining about everything?” you yelled at him after deciding that you’d had about enough.

“Quit complaining?” he repeated, looking at you as if you were a lunatic. “Tell you one story. Just one. You know that convertible out front? My father loved that car more than he loved his family. It’d always been off limits to me. Tenth grade, I’m sixteen and for once I bring home a report card and it’s almost all straight A’s.”

You glanced at him, impressed with the statement, whistling out a low ‘ooh’. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Babbitt,” you commented and he had to break the eye contact for a minute, flushed with embarrassment and a light blush.

“Don’t look so damn surprised, Jesus. So, I go to my dad. Can I take the guys out in the Buick? A victory drive, you know. Says no, but I sneak it out anyway, take the keys. We’re on the Lakeshore Drive; four kids — and we get pulled over. He’d called in a report of a stolen car, not his son took the car out without permission. Just… stolen.”

“I’m getting bored of your sob story.”

“Shut up, will you?” he gritted through his teeth, sighing when you faked a yawn to demonstrate how deeply nonchalant you felt about his story.

“Get to an end, it’s been years.”

“Cook County Jail. Other guys’ dads bail ‘em out in an hour. He left me there two days. Drunks were throwing up everywhere, psychos eyeing me up… That was the only time in my life I was gut scared. Shit-your-pants fucking terrified. Left home, never came back and here I am.”

By the end of his memory, Charlie was trying to choke back a couple of tears that burned through his blurry eyes. His back was turned to you, he hated getting weak, felt as though the Trojan walls he’d built to keep up his mental strength had been bombed, collapsing into crumbles.

You said nothing — couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t used to being around that Charlie, had no idea how to react. Under normal conditions and had you not despised his guts, you would’ve hugged him so tightly that the air would get knocked out of his lungs, but it felt wrong, inappropriate for the moment. You settled for a tight-lipped smile instead, standing up and grabbing the second pillow from the bed, tucking it under your arm along with a blanket.

“Looks like you need the bed more than I do.”

Not even a goodnight. He didn’t bother to say another word to you either, so you called it a night, hugging the uncomfortable pillow closer to your head as you shivered under the blanket, wishing that you could’ve gotten the bed instead of the couch. Charlie deserved it that night, though. It was probably the least you could do for him, seeing as your way with words wasn’t exactly a delight. Sleep wasn’t on your side either.

Spent a couple of moments tossing around in agony, until you eventually decided to get up, blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you rummaged through the library in the living room, encountering a photo album. You looked around in the room, making sure that Charlie was still in his room and placed the heavy album on your lap, carefully turning the pages.

Charlie at four years old. Then a bit older, standing alone in the picture, scrawny chest, baggy trunks. You had to stifle a chuckle, the pictures of younger him amusing you.

───

You both woke up early the next day, wind blowing through your hair as Charlie drove to the beneficiary down at the Lynwood Home. Just some stuff I have to wrap up for my dad’s estate, was the only explanation he gave you as he turned down the narrow road, clearing the crest of a hill now, a huge white building coming into view. A country estate, you reckoned.

Charlie continued toward it, approaching a man painting at an ease near the side of the road, shielding whatever he was working from the view by having his back turned to you.

“Excuse me, that place up there is the Lynwood Home, isn’t it?” But the man didn’t acknowledge Charlie in any way and you had to hold back a chortle. Nevertheless, he continued his way into the building, asking you to wait for him outside (wouldn’t take long, he said) as he sorted out the beneficiary issue that seemed to taunt him.

Not being in a mood for arguing, you did as you were told, patiently sitting in your seat as you shuffled through the radio station, trying to find a catchy song to listen to. You gasped in surprise when the sudden presence of a man sat next to you at startled you out of your boredom.

“Hello, can I help you?”

No response.

His hands were firmly grasped around the steering wheel as he started intently at it. Didn’t move at first, just stayed still for a couple of seconds before he began murmuring something that you couldn’t really make out. You tried to get him out of the car, but he flinched as if your touch was scorching against him in every intention of pushing him away. At some point, you gave up and hoped the man would leave when Charlie would come back, otherwise he was bound to hearing it from him very loudly.

Which indeed happened when he finally returned, rudely asking the poor guy to get going. Raymond, as you found later he was called, had other plans though. Apparently — and it came as much as a shock to you as it came to Charlie — he was his brother. Son of Sanford Babbitt.

Raymond Babbitt, who was kidnapped in some sort of way by Charlie, claiming that Dr. Bruner had suggested that he took his brother on a little trip. You knew that was just his usual bullshit talk, though, but tried to keep it down your throat, focusing more on helping Ray relax. He was mouthing stuff that made no sense, spelling out Vern and memorizing TV dialogues — he looked and sounded stressed and it made you want to hit Charlie’s breaks so abruptly that he’d crash his stupidly air floated head into the front shield of the car without the slightest hint of a warning.

Fucking California.

You found yourself in a crappy motel he’d rented in California for the night. Raymond was upset, so out of his comfort zone and familiar routine and places, sitting alone in his room as Charlie wandered back and forth all over the rooms while making calls back to Lee, informing him that he needed to put a pause in the business for a bit.

How insane was he exactly again?

“You’re a horrible fucking person, you know that?” you muttered lowly into his ear as you mustered a warm smile to his brother, opting to make whatever the hell of an experience that was at least enjoyable for him.

“You have no place in this.”

“No? Last time I checked you’ve been dragging me back and forth your stupid trips like I’m some sort of forgotten luggage.”

“That’s it — lights out, Ray Ray,” Charlie exclaimed in a forced enthusiastic voice as he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you outside, closing the door to Raymond’s room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Get a fucking taxi and leave! I’m not going to give you explanation on what I do in my personal life,” he whispered-yelled at you, stalking across to his own room as you followed him, pissed.

“He’s your brother! You’ve kidnapped the poor guy, have been nothing but a dick to him and all that for what? Go apologize to him, tell him that first thing tomorrow morning you’re taking him back to the beneficiary,” you ordered him in the same tone he used at you.

Charlie shielded his eyes, running his palms down across his cheeks as he let out a long, dramatic sigh, burning holes through your head with his malicious glaring. “The fuck that’s happening! He’s a freaking pain in the ass, obviously I’m not going to tuck him in and kiss his forehead goodnight — I’m not his mother.”

“You’re his kid brother, Charlie. For crying out loud, he needs you, the least you can do for him is show some respect. It’s not his fault he doesn’t understand the world the same way you and I do,” your voice softened just a tad, trying to keep the noise down for Raymond not to hear. “He’s your big brother, could be someone to look up to—”

Charlie glared down at the floor, fighting of his temper. He shook his head — could be even be hearing to your nonsense? “What’s going on in my life is none of your fucking business and you get no chance to go around giving advice.”

“Fine, be the shitty piece of burning crap you are then, I couldn’t care less. But you owe me explanation on why you brought him here. What are we even doing in California?”

Charlie collapsed on the foot of his bed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to keep him. I’m pissed off at him…”

“What is that even supposed to mean? Pissed off at Raymond? What has he done to you?”

“No, at my dad. I need to get what’s mine, okay? He left Ray a shit ton of money and… You heard what Lenz said, okay? He doesn’t even understand the concept of money — my dad preferred to leave him three million dollars, up until every last dime, he fucking despised me.”

You blinked slowly, trying to absorb all of this.

“You’re telling me you’re treating Ray like he’s some sort of your property for money? Where the fuck do you get off, Charlie — you’re disgusting!”

You stalked past him in the bedroom, storming off as you slammed your hands on each side of your head in disbelief. You heard him get up from the bed, catching up with you as he snatched your arm and turned your body towards his own.

“You don’t know how it feels to be in my shoes right now, okay? Look, I need you… I need you here, this is all very confusing for me and—”

“For you?! What about Ray? Is anyone’s life even worth anything to you? No, wait, everything has to be about you only! What do you even need me for, huh? Babysitting, pussy, more money? I’m fucking leaving, I don’t want to be involved in your little freakshow,” you were screaming now, unable to hold yourself back as your finger stabbed toward the wall to punctuate your points.

“What’s my crime here?” Charlie continued, as if he was clueless to the entire situation. You wished you could just start punching sense into his head.

“Your crime is that you use people. You’re using Ray, you’re using me, you use everyone you son of a bitch. I hope your money goes into your fucking grave when you—” out of the blue, his mouth was covering yours with force, hands clutching into your shoulders as he tried to keep you steady against him, eyes squeezed shut.

You recoiled, unable to gauge any reaction out of your body, but let him continue bringing more heat into the moment, eventually getting you to start moving your lips against his, matching the urgency he initiated. When Charlie pulled away, your brain was still foggy, struggling to catch your breath, which seemed to be an issue for him too.

“You wouldn’t shut up,” he explained in a raspy voice. It’d just hit him what he’d done; kissing you, kissing the person that he swore he hated. It was true, though, he’d only done it to get you to stop talking, your angry statements about his screwed up plans causing him to lose control.

Your eyebrow raised upwards in slight confusion and effort of comprehending that Charlie’s lips had been on yours just a moment ago and you’d never felt so good, so complete before in your life. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pinned him against the wall behind him, hearing him let out a chocked gasp, which for some reason sent a tingling sensation through your lower body. The second kiss was firmer, more passionate, because this time, you both knew exactly what was happening, it was consensual and Charlie’s crotch was pressing so beautifully against your thighs that you felt as if you were high. His hands were going through your hair, messing it up completely as he explored the rest of your face too, fingers gently cupping your cheeks for a brief second, before they dipped into the curves of your waist.

You arched against his touch, biting down on your lip as his mouth now moved below, leaving a trail of rushed wet kisses through your jawline. You felt him smirk against your neck as he softly dragged his teeth against your soft spot, licking and sucking, applying just the right amount of pressure to hear your muffled noises of pleasure.

“Ray—Raymond is in the next room,” you breathed, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan when you felt his index finger graze your underboob through the material of your thin blouse.

“He doesn’t understand this, he’ll probably think we’re fighting,” Charlie replied to you as he surfaced from the side of your collarbone to pepper small, quick pecks on your lips.

“We are fighting.”

“Good, shut up and fight me more then.”

You melted against him as he guided you backwards into the bedroom, dipping your chin over the slope of his shoulder as he held your weight, stumbling as your back accidentally hit against the corner of the door, making you wince. You didn’t care, though, pushing the door shut as Charlie pressed you against it with a loud thud. You lazily wrapped your legs around his lower waist, but his grip on your ass was strong enough to support you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, absentmindedly tugging at it and eliciting a somewhat loud moan from him that made your entire system shudder, embarrassed at how wet you were growing just by making out. “Fuck, Charlie — bed now.”

He obliged, laying you on the bed as he pulled his already half unbuttoned shirt off, fighting back a cocky smile when he noticed you impatiently unclasp your bra under your blouse. He towered over you, falling gently on top your shoulder as he held onto your hips, placing soft kisses on your flesh. He had full consciousness of the effect he was having on you, finding it incredibly hot.

“God, you’re so…” he trailed off, hoping you hadn’t heard him. Truth was, Charlie had always been captivated by your beauty, convinced himself that there wasn’t another person in the planet that was half as gorgeous as you were.

He placed a tender kiss on your lips and helped you take your blouse off, giving you a moment to breathe before getting lost into the V-line between your breasts. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped from your mouth when the tip of his tongue made contact with your cold skin, his hums and groans vibrating through it.

The man who you’d been at odds with was tracing his digits dangerously close to the hem of your underwear and it all felt like the glimpse of embarrassment from having wet fever dream that pleased you more than any other human touch.

“I still think you’re the worst person I’ve met, by the way,” you muttered through tiny sighs, eyes closed as your fingers twisted around the bed sheets, hips suddenly jerking as you finally felt his hand hover over your scorching core through your trousers. “Stop fucking teasing me.”

“I think it’s rich that you’re giving me orders when I can just completely stop touching you and go to sleep while you’re whining like a mess,” Charlie replied, distancing himself from you in demonstration, walking right across the other side of the room to pick up his discarded shirt.

You were going to skin the bastard alive.

“Fuck you, Charlie, you’re a fucking brute, you know that?” you yelled in frustration, getting up from the bed and sprinting over to him, turning him around and crashing your lips against his, nails now digging painfully into the curves of his ripped back. Stealing each other’s air, you fell back into the bed again, pulling his trousers down and almost cumming when you caught a glimpse of his cock twitching against the fabric of his gray boxers, sort of visible due to the front patch that had gotten all wet and sticky from his precum.

You pulled at his hair, breaking the kiss to smile a little when you noticed that he was equally lost in the moment, biting on his bottom lip lustfully, looking at you through half-lidded eyes and beautiful blown pupils. You could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, while fumbling to take off more clothing pieces, needing to feel every inch of his skin pressed up against yours, giving you goosebumps. You’d never felt that way.

“Fuck, that hurts,” he winced as your nails dug so deep into his back’s muscles that they ended up leaving wound marks, fresh and sort of pinkish.

“Touch me or it’ll get worse,” you threatened, knowing that as he’d said earlier, you weren’t really in a place to be colourful with him. His tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as he ran a finger down your center, testing the waters over your underwear and smirking when he felt the heat of your soaked panties radiate against his digit. You were so ready for him and he hadn’t even began doing anything to you — his erection growing painful at the observation.

“You’re so hot for me, I haven’t even touched you yet, gosh,” he whispered through a strangled moan, mind hazy as he tossed your panties aside and finally slipped a finger inside of you. Your hips jerked in surprise, rocking against his hand, craving the friction, the urge to fill you up more.

You moaned embarrassingly loud when the tip moved in a hither motion, almost losing your shit. He didn’t take too long to add another finger, which only made it better for you as you took a quick glance at him through your lashes, butterflies gushing inside your stomach at the sight of him, all worked up, lips parted as small groans came out of them, eyes closed as he fought off the need to wrap a hand around his dick as well, get off to touching you.

“Charlie,” you cried out his name, hips rolling forward as his touch made contact with your bundle of nerves. His long fingers were hitting all the right spots inside of you and the combination of the still very burning anger for him and the little wet noises along with his grunts had sent you over the edge a lot faster than you’d expected.

The moment Charlie felt your walls clench around his fingers, he pulled them off, wiping them off on the fabric of his boxers as he muffled your frustrated whimper with a kiss, permitting his hand to touch himself over his boxers as you ground against his thigh, pulling him down on top of you. Off, you mouthed, looking at his underwear. The bastard was driving you insane, so you yanked them off when you noticed he had no intention to giving in to your requests, sliding them down his ankles. Your jaw almost dropped at the gates of hell when you saw him, needing a moment to take it all in. He was so pretty, so achingly ready to go inside you, the image alone was enough to make you cum, your previous upcoming orgasm still hanging around the air.

“What did I tell you earlier? We’re doing this my way or we’re not doing anything at all.”

“Fuck, please, just fuck me, Charlie, I can’t wait any longer,” you found yourself pleading, forgetting that just ten minutes ago you’d been on the verge of cracking his skull open.

His eyes scanned your naked body for a second and you scoffed, tilting your head in confusion.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he admitted lowly, face growing hot as if he wasn’t just about to raw your bones. He crawled closer to you, giving you a kiss before parting your thighs, muscles clenching as his tip teasingly grazed your entrance. He wanted to make you feel so good, have you remembering that moment all the nights you’d be alone at your house, be the man you’d compare all the other men to in bed.

Except Charlie didn’t want you to have any other men after that night. Hoped he’d be good enough to make you want more of him, perhaps stay the nights over, ask to sleep next to him after, if he was lucky and satisfying enough.

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked you before he could change everything between the two of you, already knowing what your reply would be.

“Yes, god, yes, be fucking done with it already,” you dragged out, dramatically impatient. Your head was thrown back the moment he slid fully into you, staying still for a bit in order for you to adjust. Both of you inhaled a sharp breath, eyes shutting closed as he lost his balance a little, the dizzying feel of finally getting to be embraced by the warmth of your walls causing his heart to beat faster than a sledgehammer against his chest.

“You feel so good,” he hoarsed, forehead connecting with yours as he absentmindedly leaned down to kiss your nose. When he moved, slowly thrusting forward, you swore you wouldn’t be able to last enough. His breath was hot against the cell of your ear, allowing you to hear every groan, every noise he made and it turned you on so much that it practically ached.

“Faster,” you ordered, rolling your hips as he began having a steady pace, sloppy, wet sounds echoing in the room as Charlie fucked you rougher and rougher, skin slapping. The bed was squeaking now, your one hand grasping for dear life onto the sheets as the other wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers dipped into the curve of his lower abdomen. You focused on his face again, your heartbeat racing as you noticed his front teeth poking out of his parted lips, finding it both adorable and incredibly sexy.

He’d stopped moaning, not wanting you to know how desperately he needed you, his hands firmly placed on your hips as he tortured himself silently. “You like that? Like how we’re fighting?”

“Shut up,” you cried out. The angle he was hitting inside of you was killing you, you wanted him deeper, impossibly much, needed him to split you in half. “You’re the fucking worst.”

Electricity jolted through your veins as he picked up pace, practically slamming into you now, the moans he’d tried to hold back in his throat coming out in a struggle. “‘M not going to last long,” he warned you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, hands cupping your cheeks with force.

“Cum inside of me.”

You really had no idea what you were doing to him, had you? Who — Charlie Babbitt — feeling his cock twist against your walls just by hearing you say you wanted him to cum in you. You had him in a chokehold, it was kind of ridiculous.

“Fuck, I—” he never got to finish what he was going to say in the first place, because you were trembling under his touch, overwhelmed by the speed and the fact that your worst fucking enemy was fucking you like you’d never been fucked before and it was all enough to send you over the edge for the second time that night, except now Charlie didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. You propped your chin upwards and caught his mouth in yours as you came, feeling him follow shortly after you, cum shooting inside of you in warm spurts as he fucked you through your orgasms, groaning loudly, body jerking.

Once both of you had reached your highs, he collapsed on top of your body, head buried into your shoulder as the two of you tried to catch your breaths, legs tensing. It eventually dawned on you that you just had sex with Charlie Babbitt.

“That was the hottest fucking sex I’ve ever had,” you confessed as he rolled off of you, laying next to your side as he chest rose in and out.

“Yeah,” he breathed, unable of saying much.

“I hate you.”

“You’ve got a really nice way of showing it.”

You kneed his thigh and he winced, still very fragile from the intensity of his orgasm. His hair was all sticky and sweaty, clung into his forehead, face flushed and red. You could orgasm all over again just by looking at him. “I believe we’ve traumatised your brother for life.”

“Worth it.”

“You’re taking him back tomorrow.”

“No, I’ve already told you—” you cut him off by kissing him, the tip of your tongue lingering against his bottom lip as you pulled him deeper into your mouth, hand tangling into his hair.

“You’re not the only one who gets to shut up others by kissing them. And if you ever want this to happen again, you’re going to do things my way from now on.”

And Charlie was just fine with that.

FIN.

tags: again, i wrote this for @honeymvnt so i hope you’ll enjoy reading this ml !! 🎀🫵🏼

#rain man #charlie babbitt #charlie babbitt x reader #rain man x reader #tom cruise #tom cruise x reader #smut #enemies to lovers #pete mitchell #tom cruise imagine #this is mostly for me #maverick fanfic #maverick fluff #pete maverick mitchell #so much smut #oneshot #tom cruise oneshot #charlie babbitt oneshot

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ad0rebrial · 8 days

Note

Hello! Are requests open? If they are may a make a request? Of a sal fisher x fem reader angst but like hurt/comfort.

Something like sal had an argument with her and she tries to apologise but he doesn’t want non of it so he avoids and ignores her for a few days and she though hurt respects his space but after a few days she tries again wearing his favourite nightwear on her but doesn’t work after he just walks out so she gives up hurt and scared thinking he might be thinking of breaking up with her so she just goes to bed crying but when she wakes up she feels arms wrapped around her and someone laying down behind her with his face in her hair sleeping.

TW:Sal is a mean ass hoe in this I am so sorry, angst, overthinking, mentions of arguments.

This was indeed not good at all. You and Sal have gotten into a huge argument over him acting more distant than usual. You understood that he needed his own space but now it was genuinely worrying you to death because you knew about his depression—he hasn’t been taking his pills as frequently either so that added onto more of your concerns and worries. You thought that if you two had a nice conversation and sit together to talk this through it will all end up coming out of the dirt and so you can both understand each others point of views. However it all came crashing down on you when Sal started to get fed up with you.

He started acting out for whatever reason—he has never acted this way and it scared you. He told you that you were being stupid and a pain to him and how you’re acting obsessive. He also said that he is a grown ass man and he shouldn’t need you pampering and worrying over him. It hurt you to hear him say those words because he’s never acted this way. You also didn’t think that your feelings were obsessive in anyway and all you wanted to do was make sure that he was okay.

When it came to realization that Sal wasn’t going to listen to you no matter how long this argument tends to last you be the bigger person and apologize to Sal. Saying that you were sorry for worrying too much about him and also clearing up the fact that you didn’t mean to sound obsessive over him, you just wanted to amen sure that he was okay being his girlfriend and all.

That went all to shit because he had slammed the door to your apartment and walked out completely, not even looking back or saying anything to you. You felt like you got slapped in the face by the door itself as you became worried. The fear deep down was haunting you, the fear of him leaving you after this argument was itching at the back of your brain painfully. You had to try to fix this issue.

First attempt, you tried to be more affectionate with him, hugging him more, kissing him more, playing with his hair a lot more, complimenting more—just doing all the things you used to do that were affectionate just more over the top kind of way. That failed due to him not reaching or just shrugging you off of him whenever you tried these various ways.

Second attempt, you had gave him a long letter that was basically you saying how sorry you were—nor even mentioning your feelings at all and making the whole thing a straight up apology from your heart and soul. You made sure to say that Sal’s feelings were valid and how you needed to stop with all these worrying thoughts about him and allow him to live his life like how he wanted to. That didn’t work. He didn’t even read it.

Third attempt, you tried to dress up around him. You made sure to look very fancy and look attractive. When he came back from hanging out with Larry you would be in his favorite nightwear of some sort and look really nice. You made sure to look appealing every time but that wasn’t enough to bring him back to you. He didn’t even compliment you.

You had no more ideas. Zero ideas. Your mind was blank and empty so what do you do? You head straight to bed as you sobbed hysterically into your pillow. You were so afraid of losing him and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t have no more ideas on how to make Sal not leave you after all these years of being in a serious relationship. It didn’t take you long to finally fall asleep either since all that crying made you waste your energy.

The next morning you felt a presence near you. You felt arms wrapped around you and you looked over to see Sal, the love of your life snuggling close to you. His warms were wrapped around your waist as his face was in his your hair as he slept with you close to him. You felt yourself smile as you slowly turned around to face him and snuggled in his chest, feeling relieved that he hadn’t left you.

When he woke up, he gave you a soft mumbled apology for his actions and you gladly accepted it in a heartbeat.

#sally face #sally face imagine #sally face oneshots #sally face drabbles #sally face fluff #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x you #sally face x you #sally face x reader #sally face angst #angst #sad

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merrellholland · 8 months

Text

Not So Bad After All → P.Parker AU

HEYYYY YALL; its been a minute and I am sooooo sorry LMAO. I promise to get back into my writing era <3

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Person: Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

AU: college hockey player, frat boy, still spider-man in secret

Words: 2.4k

Warning: swearing, slight bullying (but nothing too deep)

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Never in my life would I expect to have been dressed up in the most stinky and bulky fury suit… yet, here I am dressed as Sparky the Eagle. I was currently a junior at Empire State University located in beautiful New York, and throughout the years I may have found myself in a bit of a dilemma.

Money was never an easy task for my family and I, in fact I got into this school with a huge scholarship to help support my financial needs. Despite that, I still needed to pay some tuition fees and that meant that I needed a job. This isn’t my first rodeo though, back home I had many jobs all at the same time during high school in order to help my mom with paying bills. The only hard part was trying to find a job in New York, a place that I’ve never been to until I started my first semester at Empire State.

As I’ve completed the first two years and am now currently in my third, I’ve noticed the major stereotypical things for a college on T.V were coming to real life. The sorority girls were straight-up obnoxious and cruel to other girls who weren’t part of their sorority house, the frat boys were shirtless 24/7 while playing beer pong and having girls in bikinis all over their front yards of their gigantic frat house every Friday, and lastly the sport-frat boys. These guys were a whole different level of frat boys, and I’ve learned that very early on. These guys? Not only were they known for their handsome looks but most of these guys were going to real professional sports leagues after college, and we all know how that goes for them… in terms of love life.

All the girls (and some guys) would be over, flirting constantly with them and not really taking interest in their sport but rather their six-pack abs and looks.

As much as it pains me to say the cliche phrase “not like other girls” it's true. I really wasn't like the other girls swooning over these guys 24/7 and attending their friday night parties after classes were done. I was more the type of person who would prefer to finish homework and then cozy up with some blankets and a classic 2010’s rom-com.

But now I can’t even do that since my new job requires me to be at the ice rink every week on Fridays from 6-9pm. Six to nine! That’s three hours of prime time that I could be doing homework! And that’s not even the worst part,my job was that I had to be the mascot for the ice-hockey team during their games and interacting with the fans. The Empire State hockey team was one of the best in the college leagues throughout the nation and most players got into the NHL as soon as they graduated.

And now I’m their mascot, well I dress up as their mascot and that means getting a big sweaty and gross costume every Friday for 3-4 hours… great. Not that I could complain though, since surprisingly the pay wasn’t that bad due to the fact that you’re a student. Today was my first day on the job. The Empire Eagles were playing against the Cornell Big Red’s today and it was a home game so many students were going to attend.

After I arrived at the rink, the manager handed me the keys to the supply storage room to change into the eagle costume. Getting into that costume was a full ass workout, the smell is something I’ve never smelt before and the amount I was sweating was unbearable. Nevertheless, I got into that God awful attire and headed outside to the ice-rink. The coolness of the air inside did help a little, but I could still feel the beads of sweat trickling down my face.

My manager told me to practice walking on the ice with the costume since during the halftime break you had to collect all the tokens of appreciation from the fans as they threw it onto the rink from their seats. I slowly walked onto the ice with my giant eagle feet and waddled back and forth to try to get used to it before the game started, I practiced bending down to pick up the gifts in character and tried to come up with some signature eagle moves… might as well have some fun with it righ–

“Yo excuse me but the rink is for the players to practice right now.”

I quickly snapped my head to look behind me and–

Great. A sport-frat boy.

Peter Parker was someone that was greatly known throughout the university, top GPA, great looks, apparently great in the bedroom (so I’ve heard), and was the centerman for the Empire Eagles hockey team. Though I’ve never really paid attention to him. And as much as I wanted to dislike him, I’ve never personally met him before or even talked to him… so who am I to judge?

After all, he did ask somewhat politely and– why the heck am I overthinking this? Just apologize and move on Y/N!

I cleared my throat and attempted to have a deeper voice, “Sorry dude I wasn’t aware, I’ll be on my way now” I said… and cringed internally after saying that.

Peter nodded his head and smiled, “No worries, just a little jittery for the game so I wanted some extra practice” He replied.

I nodded my head and then exited the rink, going back to the storage room so nobody would see me yet.

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The game started and was currently ending the second quarter with the score being 2-1, the Empire Eagles winning and the Cornell Big Red’s tailing behind. I could tell that all of the players from Empire State were filled with happiness… and might I add overconfident and cocky. But that was something that I couldn’t pay attention to since I had to focus on giving it my all while I walked towards the ice rink at halftime and collected all the gifts that were thrown onto the ice from the fans in the stadium.

I walked in character as the fun spunky eagle while walking on the ice and picking up the teddy bears with a girl's number in sharpie written on it and a bunch of red roses. As I picked them up and headed back, I took a quick glance and the audience. There were some students who seemed genuinely happy to be there and there were those… What do people call them? Oh yeah puck bunnies? Yeah there were a whole lot of girls wearing those boob jackets from lululemon and attempting to look cold but also cute and petite. I mean again, I’m not one to judge so you do you I guess.

After I collected all of the gifts from the fans, I took some pictures with a couple of kids and I enjoyed that part. I liked seeing the smiles on their faces as they stood proud with me as their parents took photos. It definitely seemed like a core memory for them and I’m glad that I somewhat got to be a part of that.

As the third and fourth quarter went on, it was brutal for us. Cornell absolutely demolished Empire State and beat us 4-2. I guess that’s what our players get for being cocky and overconfident throughout the whole game, thinking that they’ve got this.

After the game ended and the fans left the stadium, my manager said to stay behind and clean the place up and pick up any extra gifts that were left. As I bent down (still in my eagle costume) to pick up some flowers that were left on the ice, something extremely heavy bumped into me from behind causing me to fling forward and make an umph sound.

“What the fuck?” I cursed in a whisper.

“DUDE what the fuck are you still doing here?! You need to get out, it's closed practice now looser” the voice said.

I turned around and looked at the man who was clearly a player on the Empire State Eagles, he had blonde hair and green eyes and was definitely 6’1”. Shit, what was I supposed to do? My manager literally told me to clean the place up and then help security to lock up the stadium!

“Bro be nice, you don’t gotta be mean” Another boy said.

As I looked up, I saw that that other boy was no other than Peter Parker. But before I could register that, he offered me a hand and I immediately accepted it.

I attempted to not sound like a scared wimp so I deepened my voice a little, “Uh thanks dude, I wasn’t aware that it was a closed practice… I’ll uh keep that in mind next time” I said to him.

He smiled, “Don’t worry, Charlie’s just a snob” He replied.

“Yeah I can tell” I responded while walking out of the rink.

He laughed again while combing through his sweaty brown curls, giving me butterflies–

Wait what.

Nope. Nope. Never. Never in a million years. I refuse.

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The next couple of weeks went by normally, except I’ve started to notice Peter Parker more often. I never realized he was in three of my classes. In my morning class he would wear his hockey sweatshirt with gray sweatpants and in the afternoon he would take off his sweatshirt, revealing a tight-fitted white shirt that showed off his biceps.

Damn, now I understand why girls swoon over guys like him… bro’s majestic.

But my mama always told me to focus on my studies, boys come after. And that's what I planned to do, stay focused. He probably doesn’t even know me since at school I’m practically a nobody. I mean I join clubs, I’m in choir, and I’m part of many study groups so most people would know who I am but they probably have other friends to talk to besides me. The same goes for my roommates, they know me but they have other friend groups.

Once again, it was Friday and that meant that we had another home game. The Eagles were playing against the NYU Bobcats. I went into the stadium and got into my disgusting and sweaty eagle costume. Throughout the weeks, I think I slowly got into character and found new dances to help entertain the little kids during timeouts and in between quarters.

As the game started, I did my little dances whenever I could and the score at the end of the second quarter was 1-1. The stakes were going to be high but I have a feeling that we were gonna win this one.

During the third quarter, I sat on the bench that was reserved for me and watched Peter, jersey number 4, skate all over the ice with his hockey stick. He had the puck, all of his attention was on it. The whole audience had a feeling that he was gonna score a goal but then all of a sudden one of the NYU players stole the puck from him and skated furiously across the other side of the rink.

You could see Peter cursing and quickly going to the other side along with his other teammates. Ever since that moment, it seemed that something triggered Peter… he was starting to get more aggressive and ruthless. It made me anxious to see his behavior on the ice, but nevertheless I kept watching.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite the tight game, the Eagles won 3-2 and the whole crowd celebrated which meant that many gifts were thrown down onto the rink. Teddy bears and roses were everywhere and it was all me that had to clean it up. I walked on the ice with my feet stuck in the puffy eagle claws of my costume, gathered all of the gifts, and put them in a big container that I dragged with me across the ice. After I got all the stuffed animals and flowers in the container I headed towards my manager to give it to. As I handed it to him, he thanked me and said I was free as soon as I checked the whole stadium again to see if there was anyone else. I nodded and went back to the arena.

I checked to see if there were any other fans that were trying to stay behind, but didn’t find any… but gosh my feet hurt so much and I just need a little break before heading back to my dorm.

I took out the headpiece of the eagle costume and sighed as the cool breeze from the arena chilled my flushed cheeks. I then took out the rest of my costume which left me with my sweaty ponytail and loose hair strands framing my face along with my black leggings and shirt. Though I didn’t take it into consideration that there would be anyone else entering the stadium again after the game was over. But I guess I was wrong, because all of a sudden I heard a voice from behind me:

“I didn’t realize you were a girl,” I turned my head around to see who it was.

Peter Parker? I thought in my head.

“Or pretty.” he finished his statement with his mouth parting slightly.

I could feel my cheeks warm up despite the cool air as I laughed awkwardly, “W-What? Oh t-thanks… you look pretty too” I replied, not thinking about what I just said.

Peter just nodded and he looked like he was seconds away from drooling as he continued to stare at me… he really does make a girl feel special.

“Uhm, are you doing some extra practice? Or–” I say trying to break the silence.

Peter slightly shook his head and cleared his throat, “Uh yeah, it’s just I don’t feel like I gave it my all today even though we won so I wanted to get some practice in… if that’s okay?” he says.

I smiled and nodded my head, “Yeah sure, I’ll just go tell my manager and put this costume away.” I told him as I stood up.

He smiled back at me with his teeth as I walked towards the manager’s office, feeling intense butterflies cause Peter fucking Parker just called me pretty… WHAT IS MY LIFE?!

You know, I said in the beginning that I wasn’t like other girls but now I definitely think I am (well at least internally).

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

AN: PART TWO?? 😏

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker au #peter parker #merrell holland #spiderman au #new york #empire state university #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker ice hockey #tom holland ice hockey #peter parker ice hockey au #peter parker one shot

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 5 months

Text

2nd Day of Christmas

A Sweet Mishap

Summary/Prompt - Spilling hot chocolate/coffee/a hot beverage on the other and insisting on paying for a new drink and new clothes for them.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

The Christmas pay is great, but dealing with the influx of customers – everyone in a rush to get their Christmas shopping and preparations finished – sucks. You’re well into the morning rush having made to your best estimate near a hundred coffees in just a few hours. You’re already exhausted and sick of people; many of whom have short tempers due to needing their daily caffeine hit ASAP. Somewhere around the 30th coffee you burnt your hand on the steamer and it has been in pain since, but you need the money so you ignore it and push on. Not that you’d have time to dwell on the pain even if you wanted to; the orders just keep piling up.

Peppermint Mocha Latte with extra whipped cream and crushed candy canes.

Gingerbread Latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

Chestnut Praline Frappuccino with caramel drizzle.

White Chocolate Peppermint Hot Chocolate with marshmallows.

Winter Wonderland White Hot Chocolate with white chocolate syrup.

Almond Joy Latte with coconut and almond flavours.

And so on and so on into oblivion. Maybe it’s your fault for choosing to work in a cafe that prides itself on its range of festive flavours. But despite the exhaustion, you serve every drink with a smile and never-dwindling love for the holidays.

Your steady pace and rhythm are jolted by your coworker getting into your personal space. “Come on Y/N! It’s time to switch, I can’t keep weaving through these crowds with hot drinks and dishes! I need space! Please!”

You add the finishing touches to the drink you’re currently working on and then nod at her. “Fine. I’ll deliver this one and go from there. Just start from the next hot chocolate there.”

She nods enthusiastically, pulls out a mug and gets started. You take the fancy hot chocolate out to table 5 as per the order card. You and your coworker, fall into perfect harmony quickly. She makes drinks and you deliver them seamlessly until a tall, well-built guy comes bursting through the doors straight in front of your well-worn causing you to dump an entire Peppermint Mocha Latte on him. The mug and saucer shatter on the tiles by his feet as your hands immediately cover your mouth to hide your embarrassment. But the shock quickly wears off as you jump into action, gathering napkins to wipe the mess while you apologise profusely. You don’t even look up at his face as you continue to attempt to clean out the stain.

“I am so so sorry! Whatever you want is on the house, I’ll cover it all. New shirt and jacket even. It’s all on me. I am so sorry, sir,” you ramble as you continue dabbing at the mess.

Noticing everyone’s eyes on the two of you and customers starting to get restless, he wraps his hands around your wrists to make you stop and look at him properly. “It’s no problem, really. It’s all good. I wanted a reason to buy a new shirt anyway.”

“Please, at least let me get you a coffee to go then.”

“To go?” He questions.

“Yeah, so you can go change.”

“But you did such a good job cleaning me up.” A blush sneaks onto your cheeks at his words. You hear your coworker calling you from behind the counter. “Sounds like you need to get back. Just surprise me with something when you get your break. But make sure you’re the one that makes and delivers it,” he says with a wink as he releases his grip on your wrists.

You quickly compose yourself as you rush over to grab a broom and mop to clean up the mess as your coworker attempts to manage the impatient customers.

After about half an hour the morning rush finally starts to die down and your other coworkers arrive for handover. You finish adding some whipped cream, chocolate powder and marshmallows on top of the white and milk chocolate peppermint mocha lattes you made and then untie your dirty apron. Thanking your coworkers you take the two festive mugs to the table in the corner where the now dry man is waiting patiently reading a newspaper. You place them down carefully on the table causing him to look up at you.

“I was starting to think you forgot,” he says.

“You kidding me? I still feel so bad, but it gets so busy here during the holidays.”

He takes a sip of the hot chocolate closest to him and then says, “I can see why. I’m used to straight black coffee, but I can get on board with this.”

As you go to take a sip from the other mug you get distracted by a bright flash from outside the window causing you to spill your drink all over yourself. Looking in the direction of the flash, the man jumps into action. He passes you some napkins and stands up.

“That’s my fault. Should’a known word would get out if I stayed here this long. That’s my fault,” he says apologetically.

“You nab at your now stained shirt and say, “I guess now we’re even.”

He slides a coaster across the table to you. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs his jacket on and walks away. After a second you go to call out and stop him but the door’s already closing behind him. You look down at the coaster and see a phone number written in neat handwriting. You slip it into your pocket and smile.

#jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x you

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beatificwrites · 1 year

Text

Your Flaws (Klaus Mikaelson x gn!reader)

first vampire diaries fic! some love for the hyrid

word count: 2.2k

content: lil angst, mentions of blood and violence, the originals S3 spoilers, sad boy klaus

summary: after almost losing your life, you confess and show this man that even tho he’s not as loved by others, you’ll always love him

With the ongoing war between the sire lines and Aurora on the loose, your life was in danger as it was being threatened almost every day by the redhead. She had attempted to end your life on multiple occasions but without success due to having Hayley as your bodyguard because of Klaus’ orders.

You and Klaus had known each other for a while now, you weren’t dating or anything, just friends.

At first, you were unknowingly compelled to write his “memoir” but that slowly turned into a poor excuse for a therapist.

Through your talks, which were just him venting about his chaotic siblings and occasionally his upbringing, he began to trust you and felt as if you were the only person who understood him for who he truly was.

You eventually found out about the compulsion and how he was making you forget your conversations as soon as you left the compound.

Nevertheless, you chose to stay and to continue listen to him. You were mad and confused at first but with time you understood why he needed you.

You were the only person who for some odd reason, accepted him. Of course, you weren’t blind or anything, he did awful things, straight up evil acts but that didn’t mean his behavior couldn’t be changed.

You saw in him what others didn’t, not even his brother Elijah. You saw the hidden potential and truly believed you could stir him in a positive direction, for his daughter’s sake and her future. He just needed help getting there and his loved ones by his side.

You were slow to realize it but you had fallen madly in love with the world’s most feared creature. You tried so hard to deny it, tried so hard to push those feelings away in fear of getting involved. In fear of getting caught in the middle of some vampire fight and ending up another innocent human being who fell victim.

However, your fate was inevitable; Aurora coming for you was bound to happen some way or another.

As you grabbed your bag and flipped the ‘open’ sign backwards to say ‘closed’, Hayley appeared with a smile on her face.

“Ready for another walk home, your majesty?” she teased.

“Oh, shut up. You don’t have to do this, you know?” you said as you two began to walk away from your shop.

“I hate taking orders from Klaus but he’s right, you’re defenseless against that Aurora chick.”

“Ugh, why am I even a target? Him and I aren’t even together.” you groaned, secretly wishing you were his.

On second thought, you remembered you had accidentally left your notebook at the Mikaelson home and desperately needed it back.

“Hey, instead of taking me home, can we go over to the compound? I left a notebook; I need it for tomorrow.” You stopped in your steps.

Hayley stopped too and replied, “Well, I can just get for you in the morning.”

“No, I want it now.” you quickly said.

“Alright, fine let’s make this quick.”

From there, you two walked from the town square to the Mikaelson home as you hoped your notebook with all your important info wasn’t taken.

You arrived in front the stone walls and as you were about to walk in, you suddenly heard Hayley begin to yell in what seemed like extreme pain.

You whip around confused and yelp as you feel the wind knocked out of you. You fall harshly onto the pavement.

You manage to see Aurora’s fiery red hair and her figure with some witch standing beside Hayley, holding her hand up into a fist, ensorcelling her with whatever enchantment she was shouting.

Hayley held her head as it throbbed with pain and tried to get up and fight but to no avail.

“I see Niklaus has lowered himself and his standards in the past few centuries after leaving me,” the redhead muttered.

“This shall be my small Christmas gift to him!” she exclaimed as she abruptly yanked you up from the ground, threw you up against the wall and ruthlessly drank out of your smooth neck.

You screamed as you felt her sharp teeth sink and tear into your flesh. You gripped onto her shoulders, attempting to push her off with the only strength you had left.

You attempts failed to work and yet you felt determined to keep on trying.

No matter how many times you kicked and punched, Aurora was ultimately stronger and within a few minutes you fell onto the ground again, this time completely unconscious.

With a brisk snap of a finger, the witch put Hayley to sleep and Aurora wiped the corners of her mouth that were stained with blood.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here before anyone comes around. I want him to have the surprise,” she took out her small compact mirror to admire herself.

“Oh, and take the wolf girl. She absolutely reeks but I’m sure brother wouldn’t mind showing this one who’s boss.” Aurora ordered as she checked herself once again.

༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶

Klaus had found you outside the compound, lying in a pool of your own blood, body almost lifeless. He instantly dropped to his knees and shouted in agony as he held you, smearing the red matter on himself.

He cried in silence and tightened his grip. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now he had to. All because of the damn Strix and Aurora. He wouldn’t give her the luxury of breathing another second.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, he thought.

He had never felt this much anguish for anyone but his siblings. You meant so much more to him than he let on. He fell for you and didn’t need you to know, for all he knew he was a dangerous being and you deserved someone better; a man unlike himself.

He also found it hard to believe you would ever reciprocate his feelings. It was quite unlike him to feel that way, usually he prided himself in knowing all kinds of people fall at their feet for him. But once he met you, his charms never seemed to work. He learned to respect you and consider you off limits soon as he fell for you.

You woke up gasping violently out of nowhere. You looked everywhere in confusion.

As he felt what he thought was your corpse, move, he remained still as he let the relief wash over him but now it was his turn to be confused.

He wondered how you survived and who’s blood was in your system if not his? He hadn’t healed you recently.

“What the hell happened?! No, how the hell am I still here?!” you questioned, trying to make some sense of the situation.

“What do you remember?” he demanded.

“Aurora and some witch took us down right before I could come in,” you spoke rapidly, the memories all flowing back.

“I obviously didn’t have the strength to put up with her.” you sighed.

He looked at your neck and noticed the bite had begun to heal.

“You’re healing. You’re in transition now.” he picked you up abruptly and took you to his room before you could say anything else.

As he gently placed you on the soft sheets, he began to question you.

“What do you remember from earlier today? Anything unusual?” he sat on the bed in front of you.

You tried to think, tried to think about what had happened before you closed up tonight. Then, you felt the memories appear left and right, you could vividly recall everything that happened. You suppose it was wiped before.

“Today, I had an accident in the back of the shop and cut myself on a few shards of glass,” you closed your eyes as you pictured it.

“The..the new guy! Chris! He heard me yell and came to see what was going on. He noticed the blood and saw the mess then told me to calm down before practically shoving his arm in my mouth and telling me to drink.” you finished, still in shock.

“Chris saved your life today.” Klaus said as he looked at you.

“So, that’s how you become a vampire? You have to get hurt and drink blood?” you asked.

“You must die with vampire blood in your system in order to turn. Getting hurt is not a necessary step.” he explained.

“Am I like you now? Do I get the cool speed too?” you giggled.

Klaus’ eyes widened and he smiled in surprise before saying, “Is that what you want? If so, you won’t be exactly like me, love.”

“Right, minus the whole original thing, I’m immortal now.” you nodded, accepting your new fate.

You weren’t opposed to vampirism, just didn’t want to get involved with the petty fights. Your new strengths seemed pretty cool to you too.

“Not proud to admit but you had me quite worried back there.” he confessed as he looked down.

“Wow. The Klaus Mikaelson confesses to feeling fear!” you joked.

He briefly chuckled before meeting your eye again, “I’m being serious. I don’t think I could stand to lose you like that.”

You smiled warmly at him for caring for you. You appreciated how he looked after you. You could tell he probably felt something for you too but was unwilling to say. You noticed the lingering stares and the way he was so protective over you even though he knew you could handle yourself.

“Soon you’ll start to feel a massive hunger and you won’t be able to fight it for long,” he started.

“I’ll find some lowlife for you to feed on.” he said nonchalantly.

“Bold of you to assume I want to eat someone. I thought vampires could survive on just blood bags?”

“When you first turn, in order to complete the transition, you must feed on a person or else you die.” he explained further.

You huffed in disbelief. Okay, you were definitely opposed to the feeding on people part of vampirism, however your life is on the line and if you don’t do anything then this second shot at life you’ve gotten would have been for nothing.

“I hate this..but I’ll do it.” you released a sigh.

When you realized this was the perfect opportunity to say what you so badly wanted to say, you felt this sudden rush of confidence. You let the intrusive thought be carried out.

“I’ll do it for you, Klaus. Well, I live for myself, but I want to live for somebody else for once too.” you admitted as you met his eyes.

Surprised when the expected smug smile didn’t show, you began to get nervous. Oh no, maybe you made the wrong move. Maybe you misread, maybe he’s not into you at all. At least, not in the way you thought he was.

“Fuck it, I already started so I’m finishing this. I’m in love with you, okay? I couldn’t help myself.” you confessed.

He looked at you in shock for a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You are the light in my darkness, and I’ll always be drawn to you. But a person such as yourself does not deserve a bastard like me.”

Your brows furrowed and you sprung up from where you were laying down and looked at his face more closely.

“Well, I think otherwise. I see past the guy who thinks he doesn’t deserve me because I love him regardless.” you cupped his cheek.

This was so unlike him. He was supposed to be bragging about how he could take you all over the world and buy you the finest things even though you never cared about any of that.

He brought his hand up to hold yours and whispered, “You are worth so much more, love.”

“I know you’ve never really had a happy ending. Never had a stable relationship. And because the world perceives you as a monster, you think you’re not worthy of being loved but trust me Klaus, you are so incredibly wrong.” you assured him, your other hand holding his.

“Do you not see me as a good for nothing? Do you not see what my father hated so much about me?!” he questioned exasperatingly.

“You’re not useless, Klaus. You’ve done bad but you’ve done good too. In the end, you care for your loved ones and you're the one saving their asses. You’ve saved me more times than I can count!” you told him.

He remained silent before you began to beg, “Please just believe me. Does what I have to think not mean a lot?” you looked at him for an answer.

He hesitated before finally saying, “It’s difficult for me but I’ll try. I’m going to trust your words,” he said your name. You loved how it rolled off his tongue.

With that you removed your hand from his cheek and gave him a shy peck. You were unsure if a full first kiss would be fit for a moment like this so you waited to see what he would do.

Klaus being Klaus leaned in until he was inches away from your face. He admired you for a few seconds, thinking carefully about all you had said. His heart melted knowing your words had to be sincere, but he was ashamed of letting you know that.

You watched his eyes and what his intentions were, trying to read him. He pushed his lush lips against yours and it felt as if time itself had stopped to preserve this moment.

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adiduck · 12 days

Note

Stairs? (Adi, I love every little snippet of this. I am so ready.)

...Okay. I've got stairs, but the context of this is VERY LONG. So, Bea, you get an EXTRA LONG snippet! <3

“You can use my phone to call Ice,” he said, defeated. “It should go through to his personal cell, which will be quicker.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, and waited as Maverick pulled out his phone, opened it, hit the correct contact, and selected speaker.

Maverick had a short, hopeful tenish seconds when he thought maybe nobody would pick up.

“Mav?” came Bradley’s voice. Maverick winced.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the doctor said calmly. “I’m Dr. Oliean, calling from Naval Medical Center San Diego on behalf of Captain Pete Mitchell. I was hoping I could speak to Admiral Kazansky?”

“They’re in the building,” Maverick said again. “Really, this is unnecessary, you could probably just wheel me down there—”

“Wheel?” Bradley interrupted. Maverick snapped his mouth shut, wincing.

“May I ask who I am speaking with?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw,” Bradley said. “I’m in the room with Admiral Kazansky, but unfortunately he’s on mandatory vocal rest at the moment. I could… Captain Mitchell was my legal guardian until I turned eighteen. You could tell me?”

Maverick winced hard enough that it sent a jolt of pain straight up and down his spine.

“I don’t see you on the emergency contact list, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” the doctor said. “Is there a way we could get in visual contact with Admiral Kazansky?”

“...He, ah,” Bradley said, sounding a little strangled. “He says that—if it’s alright, he’ll type and I’ll read out what he’s saying.”

The doctor sighed. “Captain?”

“Fine,” Maverick said. “Bradley—for the record, that’s just because you were deployed around the world a lot of the time and I needed to add a couple people who’d be able to text Ice—”

“It’s—It’s okay, Mav,” Bradley said. “I get it. Ice—Admiral Kazansky wants to know what the damage is, doctor?”

The doctor went into the laundry list again, looking just as harassed about it this time as she was when she told Maverick about it.

“Frankly, sir, if it were something I was allowed to prescribe, I’d suggest kintsugi,” she finished, glaring at Maverick like this was somehow his fault again. Maverick didn’t even know what that was.

“Kintsugi?” Bradley said after a beat—read, probably. He sounded a bit distracted. “Oh. Ice, yeah, that’s a Japanese art thing—they take broken or cracked porcelain and pour molten gold in—ah. He says he knows what kintsugi is.” Typical, Maverick thought. Bradley continued, sounding a little sheepish. “He asks that you refrain from referring to Captain Mitchell’s bones as cracked porcelain.” Maverick kind of suspected Ice had said that less politely. Still.

“I’d appreciate that, personally,” Maverick drawled.

“He says you no longer get an opinion, Mav,” Bradley reported. That was probably verbatim.

“As it stands, Captain Mitchell has about three months of recovery and rehabilitation ahead of him,” the doctor interrupted. “Due to the fact that he will be in six separate braces and unable to drive, hospital policy is that someone else will have to sign him out. Due to the limited motion and the fact that he will be in a chair until the braces on his arms and shoulder are removed and he can use other tools to assist with walking, we also recommend he have someone around to assist him during recovery.”

There was a much longer pause, and some muffled talking and shifting on the other side of the phone line. “Apologies,” Bradley said finally. “Admiral Kazansky says that all makes sense, but that he’ll be in hospital for another couple days, and Captain Mitchell currently lives alone on base in North Island in temporarily assigned housing that will have to be extended, as he was only here on special assignment.”

“Or I can just head back to mine in China Lake,” Maverick said, trying for light. “At least I live all on one level.”

“He says he h—oh, that one was just for me,” Bradley said. Maverick smiled. That was definitely I hate the hangar. If Maverick knew Ice, and he did, it was I hate that stupid fucking hangar. If he was really on a tear—and he might be, considering how long Bradley was being quiet—he was adding turning himself into a hermit in the desert, and god forbid he spend time around real humans apart from his team, and if China Lake were closer I’d force him to just stay in my guest room.

“That one? Alright. Mav, he says you should just stay with him.” Maverick snorted.

“Your guest rooms all have stairs, Ice.”

“He says he’ll call someone to flip the second office downstairs.”

Maverick shook his head. “Come on, that’s too much work.”

“He says he’ll make it an order if he has to. Captain. He says he’ll make it an order if he has to, Captain.” Bradley was starting to sound kind of amused, which was an improvement on ‘worried’ or ‘trying not to sound hurt’. Maverick grinned, and winked at the doc. She rolled her eyes, but let him continue to negotiate.

“Sounds like an abuse of your position, sir,” Maverick fired back.

“He says he could come up with a reason and you won’t like it.” Maverick cracked, laughing and then wincing as his everything protested, the doctor’s hands flying out to brace him.

#adi is a writer #wip snippet #retirement au #ask game #okay also I just love this bit #it makes me laugh #but I think you'll agree that the context makes the particular line make more sense!

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peachymilkandcream · 3 months

Note

Hi, what about a reincarnation au with Levi and Evelyn? Maybe a world war au where they both sometimes see glimpses of their past lives before meeting each other? When they first meet they feel like they somehow know each other and then remember the visions. Evelyn is obviously not thrilled lol and feels uneasy.

In Every Universe You're Mine|Levi x Evelyn AU

(A/N: OOh this is such an interesting idea, I've never gotten super behind reincarnation aus normally but this, this is good. Also as a history nerd with the world war au, I am so here for it! I may have gotten a little carried away too- Thank you so much for requesting!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, yandere themes/behaviours, misogyny, domestic violence, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, etc.

==============================================

He was just supposed to be a soldier, she was supposed to make his pain of the war go away. That's all this was supposed to be. All it ever should have been.

What happened?

============================================

Captain Levi Ackerman was used to seeing his streets blown to bits and children hungry in the streets. It's like no matter what he did it was always the same, his lives ended up following the same path over and over. Now instead of fighting Titans he fought real people, ordering more and more children to their deaths for the glory of humanity. However this time he was destined to do it alone, never having his heart's song by his side.

Until he saw her.

In the lifetime he had lived so far Levi could never be happy until he found his Evelyn. It was as if his entire life purpose was to meet and marry this woman, to have her be his at all costs.

In this life she was a professional singer, comforting the soldiers. He had already done research on her, using his connections to hunt down his bride. If she was his wife in the last life she would be his wife in this one. Not even death could separate the love and the bond that they had. Nothing would ever separate it.

==============================================

Evelyn watched the Captain in the crowd, she was used to men, particularly soldiers, watching her since the loneliness was sometimes unbearable.

But there was something different in this one, the way that he watched her sent chills down her spine. It was if he knew everything about her, had seen her flaws and secrets. It was off-putting and a little frightening, but she was determined for it to not ruin her set.

He was probably just a fan, clearly she was overreacting

==============================================

When she finished her bows and retreated to her dressing room she was caught off-guard by the same man standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry can I help you?"

"You're quite talented Ms. Glass."

"Thank you- I'd love to stay and chat but I really must be going."

"Please please, just hear me out. My name is Captain Levi Ackerman, have you heard of me before?" He was baiting her, he wanted to know if she remembered who he was in their life before.

She seems confused before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, no I don't think I have. But you do feel familiar."

"Most likely due to my recent coming to this city."

"That's probably it, what can I do for you?"

"I'll cut straight to the point Ms. Glass, I'm a man of action and not beating around the bush. I think you are absolutely lovely and I would love to formally ask you on a date."

A hint of blush comes to her cheeks, she had been used to men asking her out before but admittedly none as handsome as this man. "Well I don't know, I hardly know you-"

"Don't think, just say yes."

"Well I-"

"Say yes."

"Let me think-"

"Say yes, do it. Five, four, three, two-"

"I don't think I should-"

"One, do it, do it. Say, yes."

"Yes, alright, I'll go out with you just this once."

A raised brow indicates his happiness at this. "Good. Now get changed, my staff car is waiting."

"Right now?"

"I'm here aren't I? Why waste time?"

Evelyn hurried into her room, getting changed quickly and touching up her hair and makeup. She was so flustered she wasn't able to say no, that would get her in trouble if she didn't get that under control.

She takes a deep breath and collects herself. "Just one date, that's all it'll be, just one."

===============================================

Admittedly, the date was lovely. The Captain knew how to treat a woman, taking her to the finest dinner, buying her flowers, and taking her sight seeing. She was breathless and dizzy around him, he always knew what to say and when to say it. This Captain, Levi, was wonderful, she couldn't say no to him. Not when he stole a kiss from her, the taste of wine thick in their mouths, or when his hands travelled a little too far for her liking. When he offered her glass after glass she couldn't refuse his stern insistence.

Or when he insisted on taking her to his room.

=============================================

That night she had nightmares of him. Dreams of hurt, pain, and abuse filling her mind. They were married, and every day brought with it a new horror worse than the last. He seemed a monster in his thoughts, a terrible awful monster.

==============================================

From then on he demanded to see her, and once again she couldn't refuse. But her feeling of unease never settled, even in her waking hours, things they would do would seem like déjà vu. Memories triggered by something he did or said. She knew him, she swore she knew him. But from where she couldn't figure it out.

============================================

It took weeks for Evelyn to figure it out. To figure out he was and what their life before was like. In her past life she had done everything within her power to be free of him and now she had invited that bastard back in completely. She had another chance to live a meaningful life and now she was throwing it all away.

Maybe Levi hadn't realized their past life, maybe she could just break it off and be done with him.

The thought made her pick up the phone.

"Captain Ackerman's office." Most likely his assistance.

"Could I speak to Lev-er- Captain Ackerman please."

"The Captain isn't accepting calls right now." The voice on the other end sounded bored.

"Tell him it's Evelyn, please."

There is a moment of silence, before a frantic and panicked voice. "Right away ma'am-"

Odd. But at least it was ringing in his office.

Click. "Evelyn, I see my little songbird is missing me more than she lets on. I'm free for lunch, we can meet at that café you like so much."

"That's not why I'm calling Levi."

An annoyed sigh. "You're on your period, aren't you? Damn it, I guess I can survive with just blowjobs for a week. I can still meet then."

"No- Levi- I can't see you anymore."

A long and terrifying silence.

"Why not." His voice changed, stern, cold. Angry.

"I'm sorry I just don't think it's a good fit."

"Is it someone else."

"No nothing like that, I just don't see it working between us."

"So that's it, you're throwing away everything because of a 'feeling'?"

"I just don't want to go out with you anymore Levi, I'm sorry."

Longer silence, now her hands were starting to shake.

"Fine. Your loss."

Evelyn breathes a sigh of relief, clearly he was upset, but he didn't know who she was. "Thank you Levi, and I'm sorry-"

Click.

She hangs up as well, he was upset, but at least she was through with him. But to not take any chances she was leaving, her things were packed and she was ready to go. Hopefully she'd never see him again, and he'd never remember.

She would be free.

==============================================

The soldiers dumped her in Levi's office, she was taken from the train station on suspicion of treason and deposited here.

"What's going on Levi, you know I'm not a traitor."

He spins around in his chair to face her, lighting a cigarette. "There's a war going on, you think I can afford to be reckless?"

"Cut the bullshit. Why am I here?"

"Fine. I'll cut to the chase. I know you know who I am, who I really am. Otherwise you wouldn't have made such a stupid phone call. You remember all of it don't you? Fighting Titans, warming my bed, your punishments."

Evelyn glares. "Yes, I remember all of it."

"Then you should remember what happens to girls who test my fucking patience!" He stands and walks over to her, grasping her chin in his hand so hard she can feel the bruises. "I don't know why you're so stubborn but guess what sweetie you belong to me. In every universe, every life, every death, you. Are. Mine."

"I'd rather die."

"Perhaps, but you won't. You'll just wish for it." He pulls out his riding crop, tapping it in his open palm as he paces around her. "When I'm through with you you'll be begging for one of my other punishments."

"I hate you, I fucking hate you."

"I know, but you'll come to love me in time." He bends down again, whispering in her ear.

"Welcome home Mrs. Ackerman."

#break me slowly #levi x oc #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader

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iovnyu · 2 years

Text

in the ring

genre. angst(?), fluff, strangers to lovers

pairing. park sunghoon x f! reader

disclaimer. i wrote this quite some time ago … also i am out of school for now so expect more things to be uploaded! i’m sorry for not posting anything for a few months i genuinely had no ideas lol

Sunghoon’s hands tremble as he applies scab ointment on his wounds. His knuckles are red and feel as though they are on fire every time he bends them. His vision becomes blurry from the number of tears that are welling up in his eyes. Everything hurts -- his body hurts, his head hurts, and his heart hurts.

No matter what he does, he can’t seem to get her out of his head. Sunghoon thought boxing would help him forget her and get him some sort of stability in life. All he gets is bruises after bruises that are paired with his endless nights of crying himself to sleep.

Looking at himself in the foggy mirror that stood in front of him, he couldn’t help but notice that the person he sees isn’t him. That person is a boy whose heart has been ripped out, that person is a boy who has nothing to live for. Sunghoon tries to smile at himself -- anything -- but ends up failing as that hurts him too.

A quiet knock comes from his door, thinking that it’s just someone rustling outside, Sunghoon ignores it. Not until a much louder one, does he open the door to see a girl standing outside. She gives him a small smile and lifts a first aid kit up to his face, “I saw you out there -- didn’t know if you needed this?” Great. She saw how he lost to another man that he thought he can beat.

“I can’t help but to bring this everywhere. I am studying to be a doctor and I just wanted to see if I can help you, but if you don’t want me to -- it’s okay! “ She rambles on. Sunghoon sensed that she saw his sour face once she mentioned him losing -- not mentioning it but hinting that she saw everything that happened.

Sunghoon quickly shook his head and opens the door a little wider. “No, you’re fine. Come in.” He says. Sunghoon notices her frantic eyes as soon as she enters his room. There were bloody towels that overflowed the basket in the corner and wrappers of bandages on the floor near the mirror. She turns around and gives Sunghoon a small smile (again). “So, where can I sit?” She asks. She stood still in the middle of the room, not wanting to place herself where she wasn’t wanted.

Sunghoon walked over to the couch and dumped the clothes that were scattered on it onto the floor. “Here.” The girl nods and sits herself down, staring at Sunghoon. “What?” Sunghoon says and quickly regrets how rude his tone was seeing how she flinched. She patted the spot next to her, “Sit.” Sunghoon slowly sat down, wincing as he felt a sharp pain throughout his body.

The girl put her hands under his chin and made him face her. Sunghoon couldn’t help but feel a little nervous due to the proximity, if she was any closer she would notice how fast his heart is beating. She moves his head, scanning all the little cuts and scars he had on his face. Opening the first aid kit, she immediately grabbed ointment and a couple of small bandages. Squeezing out some of the ointment onto the pad of her index finger, she notices his intense gaze on her.

“My name is Y/N.” She says, breaking the silence.

“Sunghoon.” He replies.

Y/N nods, already knowing his name from when they did introductions for the match. “What’s your technique?” Y/N asks as she lightly applies the ointment to the small cuts that littered his face. He winces at the cold contact but nonetheless, lets her continue.

“What?”

“Your technique.” Y/N bits her lip in concentration, trying her best not to hurt him further. “Like — what makes your fighting, you?” She explains.

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows and his lips form a straight line. Thinking quietly to himself, he sees that Y/N stops putting ointment on him and waits for his answer. Sunghoon’s hands get sweaty under her stare and shrug, quickly wanting her to continue. “I don’t know.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to press further. Unwrapping the band-aids, she sticks the mini ones to her fingers and faces Sunghoon again. “Almost done!” She smiles at him. Sunghoon finds her smiles endearing, if he wasn’t heartbroken, he would have fallen in love right then and there. He finds himself giving her a little smile back and nodding.

As Y/N finishes up applying the band-aids, she grabs all of the wrappers and tissues on the table to throw away. She pauses and looks at him, noticing his uncomfortable state on the couch. “Is there any place else that hurts? Or is wounded?” She asks, head tilting slightly to the side.

Sunghoon sheepishly smiles, “Uh yeah..?” He says, not attempting to move.

“Okay.” Y/N stares at him questionably, waiting for him to answer but seeing that he isn’t going to, she speaks up. “Is it your stomach area?” Sunghoon nods slowly.

“Are you fine with me looking at it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’d have to take off your shirt then..?” Y/N says still staring at Sunghoon. He brings his hands to the end of his shirt and slowly lifts it, wincing. Y/N seeing him struggling, moves closer to him and helps him pull his shirt over. Sunghoon’s body freezes as he feels Y/N cold touch skimming over parts of his sides, taking off his shirt for him. She neatly folds the shirt and puts it on the table in front of them.

“Thanks,” Sunghoon says shyly now that he is shirtless in front of a pretty woman. He wished he could’ve prepared himself better for this moment. If he would have known that someone was going to come in and help him fix his wounds, he would have done some sit-ups.

“No problem,” Y/N says. Her eyes trace over the various bruises and open scabs that littered his chest. She can’t help but fixate on the bigger wound that has dried blood around it. Y/N points to where the wound is, “I’ll deal with that one first.” Sunghoon nods and repositions himself so she can tend to it a little bit more.

“I will have to stitch it,” Y/N says, examining him. “Was it open like this before?” Sunghoon nods, “Yeah, I never got it properly looked at. Thought it was just going to heal itself.” He shrugs.

Y/N is quick to prep the needle with surgical thread and kneels on the floor next to Sunghoon. “This will hurt.” She looks up at him and waits for his approval. Sunghoon gives her a smug smile, “I’ve been hurt before. I can deal with the pain.”

Y/N sighs under her breath, “Okay.”

Feeling a sharp pinch in his abdomen, he sucks in a breath. “Ow,” Sunghoon says, clenching his fists.

Y/N notices his pain and stops, “Do you need something to distract you? I have this buzzer thing that helps kids.”

“Pfff, I’m not a kid,” Sunghoon says, scoffing. Y/N rolls her eyes and rumbles through the first aid kit. She grabs Sunghoon’s hand and wedges it open. Turning on the buzzer, she puts it in his hand and puts it close to his face so he can focus on it. Sunghoon quickly finds himself being distracted by how there is a ladybug buzzer in his hand. He doesn’t know why and how but it works because as soon as the buzzer stops, Y/N finishes stitching him up.

“Not a kid, my ass.” She laughs at him.

“Hey! It’s not my fault, blame the bug buzzer thing!” He exclaims, pointing at the ladybug in his hand.

Y/N nods, “Mhm.” She soaks a towel with a little bit of rubbing alcohol to wipe off the dried blood around the stitches. As Y/N carefully dabs around the wound, Sunghoon takes the time to look at her face. He could tell that she was a person who was determined to get what she wanted although she didn’t look like it. She was nice and soft spoken until she warmed up to him, then he saw how open she was. (If Sunghoon wasn’t an idiot, he would have known that Y/N is practically like him, just in a woman form)

“You’re staring at me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sunghoon says dumbfounded.

“Well, stop staring at me. I can’t focus if you are burning your eyes into my face.” Y/N looks up and stares plainly at him.

Sunghoon makes a bold move and pats the top of her head, giving her a teasing smile, “Nope.”

Y/N looks at him, shocked. “Did you just pat me?” Sunghoon nods and lays back, trying to act cool but that quickly goes south as he remembers that he is still bruised and hurt. Y/N laughs a little and shakes her head. “You’re all set, Park Sunghoon.” She taps his knee and gets up, grabbing the needle and towels.

Sunghoon freezes. The way his name rolled out of her mouth sounded so angelic and familiar. He had only been called by his full name in the ring or when he was being scolded by his parents (he doesn’t like thinking about it). Both occasions it made him feel uneasy because they both lead to fighting. But when Y/N said it, she sounded like a friend. It felt as if she had known him his whole life.

“Thanks.” Sunghoon manages to get out. He watches as she cleans up everything with ease. Y/N shrugs, “No problem.” She says, giving him a small smile and going towards his sink. “Just felt like you needed my help.”

“I did. Thank you.” Sunghoon says, still watching her. She cleans her hands at the small sink in the corner of his room. Looking at him through the cracked mirror, she says, “I mostly always here. If you ever need me, you can find me.”

Sunghoon tilts his head. “How will I be able to get a hold of you if I don’t have your number?”

Y/N laughs, “Park Sunghoon, you sure are smart.” She dries her hands on her clothes and walks over to him, holding out her hand, “Here, give me your phone.”

A little shocked at her reaction, he quickly rummages through his pocket trying to find his phone. Finding it, he unlocks it and holds it out to her. While grabbing his phone, Y/N’s cold hand slightly grazes his, giving him goosebumps. After a few seconds, she hands it back to him. “There. Now you can ask me to help fix your cuts whenever you want.”

Sunghoon grabs his phone, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Y/N nods and dusts her hands on her top. “Well, I think I’ll go now.” She says, slowly backing up and pointing to the door.

“Wait.” Sunghoon reaches out and grabs her arm. Startled, she looks up at him expectantly. “Do you mind if we hang out sometime? If you want, you don’t have to say yes.”

Y/N laughs, “Of course, Sunghoon. I would love to.”

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