#so she won’t even say it out loud and she prays to be wrong

[norrizzandpia]

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris edit #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfiction #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff #ln4 x you

[glitteryapricotranchbiscuit]

fem reader x Itto were he really wants her to sit on his face but she worried she’d be to heavy but he proves her wrong and she ends up on his face desperately holding on to his horns

Please ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable have a nice day ❤️

♡ Facesitting Itto X fem!Reader ♡

!● warnings: fem!reader, body whorship, fingering, face sitting, focus on reader <33, very smut, NSFW🔞 no minors or I’ll eat u alive

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note: OMG YEAH THIS IS SO CANON at least in my world, gonna make him sit on fem!reader’s face bc she deserves it (also sry for taking so long bbyy aaaa)

“Awww… come on (y/n)... It won’t hurt me, you know that right?!”, Itto did not stop insisting on his request while you were a blushy mess of the thought of it. “N-no, I worry about crushing you…”, you said quietly but loud enough for him to hear. Another pouty ‘aww’ before Itto gets on his knees. This man really wanted you to sit on his face! “Why do you think that? I am the greatest Oni out here, I can handle you. So please, let me eat you out…”, he begged, now looking up with his big puppy eyes, hands together like he was praying for your approval. Damn, this was the point where you couldn’t deny him. His infamous puppy eyes got you both in the first place together, also many other stuff too, but this one shot an arrow straight through your heart. “O-okay fine… b-but can we go slow?”, you said nervously, fumbling on your shirt while Itto jumps up to hug you. “Heck yeah, babe! You will love it.”, he says while giving you smooches all over your face. As if you would weigh nothing to him, he carried you to the shared bedroom.

Itto sits you safely down and gives another kiss on the mouth before stripping down his pants since he only wears pants around the apartment. It was nothing new to see him fully naked but it still made you feel embarrassed to see his huge dick hanging out freely. Best part is that he was half hard already. Your head heated and you looked away while Itto smirks at you, oh how he loved to see you like this, it totally boosts his confidence even more. “Don’t worry, babe! Today I will only focus on you and…”, he got on one of his knees while starting to undress you and kiss your leg. “... your pretty cunt.” This man had no filter when it comes to the intimacy you both were sharing for some time now, and oh boy, your heart pounds loudly against your chest seeing him kneel down to you. Itto helped you undress before starting to kiss you from your leg up to your mouth, giving on your whole body little butterfly kisses. He carefully leaned you down the bed after you were fully naked, hiding your breast from him. “Aww babe, I love it when you get shy around me. Trust me okay? If it’s too much to handle you know the safeword, right?”, he kissed your hand and waited for a sign from you. You nod and stretch your arms towards his face to cup him. He willingly came near, now towering you before you could cup his face and give him a kiss on his forehead.

“I love and trust you, Itto.” He was right away a blushing mess but this did not stop him from giving you this time deeper kisses while one hand caresses your inner thighs. You open your legs wider for him while he continues to massage your tight. His nails were not too long to hurt you but he used them to make little circles on your skin, touching it lightly, not too harsh. You told him many times before that this makes you laugh more than getting excited but he loved you little laughs. And this way you were getting more comfortable. “Does my little pumpkin want more?”, he asked while giving you neck kisses. “Yes please~”, you hugged him while he used his spit to lubricate his fingers to use it on your cunt. When his wet pointer and ring finger carefully slid between your lips, you bite your bottom lip, fully concentrating on his fingers. He slowly made circles around your clit and kissed your neck, licking and sucking on your skin while he worked on your first orgasm. Itto was painfully slow and you could feel how hot you were getting. “I-itto… please faster…”, you begged, petting his face with one hand while you were holding with the other one the bedsheet under you. “Of course, babe.”, he said, then sped up his circles around your clit. He stopped kissing you to watch your expression you were making as you were slowly building your orgasm. You close your eyes and bite your lip, looking away from him. Itto slowed down his movements and saw you open your eyes again, looking at him. “N-no, don’t play with me, Itto please…”, you pouted at him and cupped his face again. He gave you a deep kiss before letting go of you, sucking your juices from his fingers. “Babe, sit down on my face and I will make you cum, trust me.” You gulped, worrying that you might crush him with your weight but as you saw him replacing himself to the position you were and helping you climb and then sit on his chest. His dick was poking your ass from behind while you leaned down to give him a kiss. His hands are holding on your sides. “You make me crazy… so please, *please*, sit with your lovely cunt on my mouth and I will make you feel like you are in heaven.”

You could have said that you are already in heaven whenever he just fucked you silly but this might be the cherry on top of your relationship with him, when you facefuck him. Which is pretty obvious his idea but maybe you will like it and both of you are pretty open for experimental stuff.  “Alright, but tap on my sides if I crush you or anything, okay?”, you said while climbing up, finally having your pussy right in front of his drooling mouth. “O-of course, (y/n), now come here~”, he couldn’t hold his excitement longer back and pressed your hips down on his mouth, letting his tongue finally lick your wet cunt. His tongue licked your pussy from the bottom to the top doing it a few times over and over again, moaning and growling while digging his nails into your flesh. You hold yourself onto the bed frame and adjust yourself a bit to guide his tongue a little more. Itto noticed it and stuck for a while on your sensitive clit, circling and sucking on it. Making you moan out his name and pressing yourself a bit harder on him. “S-sorry”, you said and were about to lift yourself a bit up, but Itto held you close to him while now he inserted his tongue inside you. Making your eyes roll back and moan louder. And Itto loved it so much. He was drowned with your pussy juices mixed with his own salvia, making a mess. You looked down to see into his hearty shaped eyes and how he continues to eat you out without any stop.

“I am getting close, Itto.”, you stated and started to grind yourself on his face, making his nose meet with your clit with every hip movement. Itto enjoys this way too much with his dick leaking with pre-cum and him going crazy with his tongue. Since he was an Oni, his tongue was a bit larger and longer than human ones which made this experience a lot better than you would expect. “mhmm~”, Itto slurped and moaned non stop after you started grinding harder on him, making him straighten up which made you stumble and instead of holding the bed frame… you now are holding his horns which makes his mind go crazy. You felt something warm on your ass assuming that Itto just came but did not stop eating you out, going even crazier on your pussy. “Itto, Itto…!”, you screamed and moaned while cumming on his face, making your gush and press your legs together. Itto tried to drink as much as he could but ended up patting your sides to signal that he needed to breathe or else he would drown. You immediately stood up and helped him lean up, while also noticing that he really came too. His cum stains his stomach and your ass. “O-oh, are you okay, Itto??” He coughed and smiled. “Oh my archons, yes YESS that was amazing, damn come here”, hugging you and kissing your face. You couldn’t stop him here and now you got your juices on your face too, laughing at his reaction. This also made both of you catch your breaths before he let go of the hug just to give you a big smooch on your forehead. “I am still pretty hard, may I have another delicious meal?”, he grinned while his hands went down to your ass, massaging it. “Only if you let me have a quick break~”, you said, kissing his nose and snuggling against him. Itto leaned back still holding you in his arms and cuddling you. “Anything for you, (y/n), I love you.”

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#glittery stuff #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #arataki itto #arataki itto smut #itto smut #itto x reader #itto x fem!reader #female reader #arataki x reader #genshin itto

[geekforhorror]

imperfect perfections

pairing: rots!anakin x fem!reader

warning(s): body image issues, fluff, praise, pet names (sweetheart, darling, etc), make out session

Anakin didn’t know what was going on with his girlfriend and it was starting to worry him profusely. They had been dating for 6 months now and they shared everything together. Both of them had seen the other at their lowest, comforted each other, and most importantly; loved each other. That’s why Anakin was concerned about her wellbeing.

It started off with the littlest things, just enough for him to notice. At times, she insisted on changing in the bathroom after finishing her shower, which made sense because it was an occurrence in the beginning of their relationship and he thought that maybe she wasn’t ready to change in front of him, which he totally understood. However, even six months in, she still had this habit and he noticed she had picked up several more. If her shirt rode up just the tiniest bit, she would immediately pull it down and pray that Anakin wouldn’t notice. Or the times when he placed his hands on her hips, her face was in a panicked sort of state and told him she wasn’t comfortable with it. It wasn’t a total lie, but just not for the reasons Anakin was expecting. They never even had sex because every time he lovingly slipped his hands beneath her shirt, she would always grab it and pull it away from her flesh, which he also understood. She hated keeping this a secret from the love of her life because she knew he would never keep a secret from her.

It’s not like she enjoyed constantly lying to him and his pretty face. She wanted to tell him what was bothering her more than anything, but she was ashamed of letting the words slip out, but she was mostly afraid of what he would think of her if she told him the truth.

But right now, she was sitting on his bed with him and watching a holodrama. She loved being in his quarters because it made her feel safe and cared for. She loved the personality of his room as well. While the flick was playing, Anakin placed his head on her shoulder and wrapped his right arm around her waist. Suddenly, her breath became hitched and her diaphragm tightened because of the contact. He noticed the signs all too well and he had to say something. Anything. Anything to help her. He paused the film and finally decided to speak.

“Baby what’s wrong?” he asks sounding concerned.

“It’s nothing,” she responded skeptically, but inside she was terrified. Terrified of the thought that he may have finally caught on.

“I love you sweetheart and you know you can tell me anything, right?” he assured her in a soothing voice. Tears were threatening to spill from her glossy eyes and she didn’t want Anakin seeing her like this. Like she was weak, fragile.

“Please don’t cry sweetheart. Tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t judge you,” he says softly as he runs his fingers through her hair.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid… that I’m stupid.” she sputtered.

“Nonsense. I would never and I mean, never think that about you because you’re anything but stupid,” he assures her. And he meant every word he said.

“How do you know that?!” she exclaimed.

“Because I love you more than anything. Do you honestly think I’d be here right now if I didn’t love you?”

The room suddenly became quiet yet the silence was so loud to the point where one of you want to break the silence, but didn’t know how to.

“I wanna help you baby. I really do,” Anakin said to his girlfriend.

She let out a rather shallow breath and Anakin noticed this too. It was time to tell him everything. To tell him what was making her so self conscious all the time. Maybe it would set her free.

“Alright Ani, but promise me you won’t think of me differently when I tell you,”

“I promise baby,” he said in the most soothing voice in order to calm her down.

“The reason why I’m distant sometimes has nothing to do with you. it has something to do with one of my biggest insecurities,“ she said. She could already feel her voice start to croak. Maybe she couldn’t go through with telling him this. It was too much for her alone, so how could she be sure Anakin would be fine with finding this out? She already began talking about it, so there was no going back now.

“I have a really ugly birthmark on my back and it’s affected my self-esteem for as long as I could remember,“ she lets out, tears spilling from her beautiful eyes.

“A birthmark sweetheart?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not a normal birthmark Ani. It’s so disgusting and it makes me feel disgusting,” she sobs.

He wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her, but she continues to cry into his shoulder. He didn’t know a birthmark was the root of all of her self-esteem issues, but it hurt him to see her so hurt over this.

“It’s ok baby. I’ve got you.”

“That’s why I never let you see what I look like underneath all of my clothes. Because I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore,” she rambled in a shaky voice. He had never seen her like this and he never wanted to.

“I would never stop loving you, especially over something like that,” Anakin reassured her. “Show me the birthmark,” he said, in non-demanding way, more of a suggestion.

“I wish I could Anakin,” she says in a gloomy voice.

“I can’t imagine a pretty girl like you hating yourself over something like that,” he admitted truthfully.

“That’s because you haven’t seen it yet.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” he says in an attempt to apologize to his girlfriend.

“You don’t have to apologize. You were just telling me what you thought.

“You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen sweetheart." he says before kissing her multiple times on the lips.

Despite his words of encouragement, she had this feeling in her stomach and it made her feel uneasy. She let out a shallow breath before speaking next.

“Do you want to see it?” she asked him.

“Only if you feel comfortable enough with it. I won’t force you if you don’t want to,” he says.

“Ok I will,” she says.

Here goes nothing.

She lifted just enough of her shirt to expose the birthmark that was indented on her right side of her back and takes a deep breath once more. She was scared to be so exposed and now thought that he might think of her differently.

“It’s on this side,” she said, pointing her fingers in the right direction so that he could find it easily. He takes a long look at the birthmark in awe and is speechless. Many seconds pass by with dead silence, which makes her even more anxious.

“Say something. Anything,” she begs of him.

“You look so pretty. It’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of,” he coos.

“You really mean it Ani?” she asked.

“Do you even have to ask? Look at yourself, sweetheart,” he says out of genuine love. She knew he wasn’t trying to just make her feel better but how did she? His eyes. His eyes were filled with the utmost love and adoration. For her. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and no birthmark will ever change that,”

“I love you baby,” she lets out.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he says before kissing the mark on her skin.

She needed that.

“Come here,” he says, motioning his hands in an attempt to get her to come closer.

She happily obliges and scoots closer to him on the bed. Anakin wraps his arm around her and rubs her back with his calloused fingers as she rests her head on his shoulder. It felt like the world had stopped and it was only the two of them together, side by side.

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #star wars #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin star wars #star wars fandom #anakin fic #star wars anakin

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 4 (Teratophilia)

Deadite!Ellie (Evil Dead Rise) x Reader (NSFW)

(1,351 words)

Summary: You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that having sex with the demonic version of your neighbor is dangerous.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, dead dove do not eat (seriously, this shit gets BANANAS), graphic depictions of violence, viewing the aftermath of a murder scene, stabbing, blasphemy (kinda), head trauma, breaking in, dubcon (ish), Ellie being mean, sadism, biting, scratching, monster fucking, oral sex

Notes: MAGGOT MOMMY <3 I had her specifically in mind for this one. I saw this with my friends over the summer and they thought I was CRAZY bc I said I could fix her LMAO anyway, enjoy the fic!!!

-

You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing the loud thuds of people running and falling outside your door is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing screams, bloodcurdling enough to know there was a threat is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that several gunshots, sending loud enough bangs to make your ears ring, is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing laughter, full of malice, is dangerous.

So when you decided to peek your head out the door only to be met with the dead bodies of your neighbors, splayed out and bloodied across the hallway, you knew your horror movie knowledge wouldn’t be able to save you now.

The scent of death wafted around the hallway. Blood poured from the bodies of your poor neighbors. You were grateful to be situated at the other end of the hall, if you had a closer view to the emptied chasms of their insides, you were sure you would be sick.

At the end of the hallway stood Ellie. She looked dead. Her skin was pale, littered with bruises and cuts. Her deep red hair was matted. She was covered in blood.

Ellie? There is no way she could’ve done something like this. She was kind, always making sure to hold the elevator for others when they were running late. She took no-nonsense from anyone or anything. She had three children to take care of- all of whom you saw were being raised to be good people. She knew the neighbors. She knew you. She wouldn’t have done this to them.

Or at least that’s what you thought until you saw her prowl down the hallway. What you saw, wasn’t the Ellie you recognized. It seemed as if all her bones were broken, and put together the wrong way. Somehow, she moved like a wounded animal, but also like a dangerous predator. The sound of her heels dragging and scuffing against the floor along with the garbled coughs of your dying neighbors was a sound that was sure to stick with you for as long as you lived- which you assumed wouldn’t be much longer. As Ellie continue to stalk closer to your door, decided that if you were about to die, you wouldn’t go down easy.

Slamming your door and locking it, you arm yourself with a kitchen knife, and begin to pray. You can hear the thud of her footsteps stop. For a brief moment, you feel relief, until loud and heavy pounding starts to come directly at your door.

“God won’t save you now.” A hoarse, demonic, almost inhuman sounding voice taunts from the other side of the door. Mustering enough courage to look through the peephole, Ellie stares at you. Sunken, black circles surrounded her eyes, looking bruised and bloodied. Her eyes were no longer the bright blue you had seen flash you kind glances in the past, but a ghostly, milky white. Dead. Lifeless. Yet, there she stood outside your apartment, staring back out you through the peephole with a crooked and menacing grin.

“It’s so pathetic,” she says blankly. “Praying as if you think you’re going to make it out of here…” You grip your knife tighter. “As if God can even hear you.”

“Jesus, Ellie,” you reply, hushed. “What the fuck happened to you? You don’t look so good.”

“Ellie’s rotting in hell with the rest of your sack of shit neighbors!” She shrieks. You look away from the peephole as Ellie reels back and continuously slams her head against the door. The wood begins to splinter and crack, and you can only watch in horror as the woman you once called your neighbor, makes her way into your only safe haven.

“Mommy’s home.” She drawls distortedly. She sets her sights on you, creeping over surprisingly quick where you can feel her, just inches away from your skin.

Jamming your knife into the side of her skull, she pauses for a moment. Did you get her? Is she dead? You get your answer soon enough as she pulls the knife from her head and slams it right next your hand where she has you backed up on your kitchen table. Despite the dread churning in your stomach, the proximity of her body so close to yours was enough to spike your arousal, as well as fear.

“Such a pitiful sight,” she teases, as you feel the air of her breath on your neck. You let out an involuntary whimper, cheeks beginning to heat up. Ellie sees this and barks out a cruel laugh. Her hands move across your body, clawing and grabbing at every crevice. “You are such a coward,” she chides. “Letting a monster feel you up.” She was right and all you could do was nod. “I know you’d do anything to stay alive, right?” Her voice drops to a sweet tone. It’s sick to hear such a scary and mocking voice have such a sweet tone.

“…Yes” you grit out, shaking.

“It’s always the sluts like you that make the most delicious screams.” She smiles wickedly, before violently kissing and biting at your chest. Your shirt is practically torn open as Ellie pushes you down and pins you to the table.

Moving your hands up to touch her, Ellie painfully slams your hands above your head, back to the table. Her mouth continues wandering down your chest, teeth grazing over your nipple, threatening to bite. Your breath hitches, and you let out a pained moan when she finally does. Her teeth sink down on the sensitive flesh, and she does nothing but laugh as you writhe around her.

Her nails rake down the rest your body, surely hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a moan of relief when she unattaches from your chest. She sinks down to your arousal, ripping off the pants of your legs with terrifying ease.

“You are one sick, disgusting fuck,” She sighs with false disappointment. “So fucking horny while your neighbors die all around you…” The shame washes over you, but Ellie’s ministrations as she teases you through your underwear make it hard for you to focus on anything other than getting off. “I can smell how much you’re enjoying this, you pathetic whore.”

You let out a whine as Ellie coaxes you right to the edge, stopping just before the point of no return. She sinks down, spreading your legs, leaving you splayed out on your kitchen table.

“You must be completely fucking stupid if you think I would let you off that easily.” She jabs. Pulling off your underwear, you lay there on your table, while a feral, monstrous version of your neighbor starts to violently go down on you.

Her tongue is fast as it swipes over you. She’s messy and rough, leaving no spot untouched, chuckling and murmuring filthy phrases into your sex. Your back arches and you grip the edge of the table, white-knuckled, whimpering shamelessly. The table begins to shake as her arms sling over your legs, holding you down. Her grip is harsh, marks sure to be left behind. She bites into your inner thigh, which only further spurs on your wanton feelings, starting to reach the edge.

Looking over to your side, the bloodied knife stares back at you. In the midst of your euphoric high, you hatch an idea to stab this demonic version of Ellie while distracted, give you time to possibly escape.

You don’t have much time to waste. When your orgasm quickly washes over you, Ellie gets up, spying the knife as you swing it up. She catches it, blade going directly through her hand. In your hazy state, she smilies back out you with that same malice she’s had this whole time.

“Aw,” she taunts. “Did you really think that stabbing me again would put me down?” There’s that sadistic sweetness in her voice. She drops the act almost immediately, lunging at you with her hand around your throat. “That was a naughty trick, and naughty behavior deserves to be punished.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ellie x reader #ellie evil dead rise x reader #ellie evil dead rise #horror imagines #slasher x reader #horror smut #slasher smut #maggot mommy #mia writes horror!!!

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life”

“If I had someone like you”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART FOUR

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Max makes amends for his wrong ways, reader forgives him, Max’s declares some very crazy things- however reader has something crazier that he doesn’t take too kindly.

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, soft max, angry max, fake relationship, mentions of J.Verstappen, Google translate, NO PROOF READ!! , maybe reader being a dick?

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/N/N (Your Nickname)

Word count: 4,137

Inspo: It hurts me- Elvis Presley (Song)

A/N: So a month later and we have this, please enjoy! I need to get me a Max. I’m sorry it’s terrible I just had such readers block- and yeah there’s no excuse for it being bad.

Well of course Max and Kelly was the talk of the weekend. Some pleased they was back together, others not so much… myself included- mine was out of pure jealousy.

I avoided Max like the plague, hid in the most random spots to avoid any contact with him-

The second most spoke about during the weekend was me and Lando, people pining us together. I love Lando dearly, and he loves me- but strictly platonic, even the thought of anything more makes me cringe.

Every so often he would bring the conversation up of moving back to London. And I would just brush it under the carpet, I wouldn’t lie and say I haven’t look at the odd apartments near home, or even considered moving back in with mum and dad, it just seems kind of the best thing for me and the baby- I have nobody at home expect Lando, and used to be Max…

“Y/N?” Glancing up like a deer in headlights I turned my head to Lando confused-

“Sorry, did you say something…” with and apologetic smile, I nervously picked at the pleats in my dress, looking back down at my lap.

“I said we’re about ten minutes away from your mum and dads”

“Oh- I can’t wait to see them.” Sighing I rested my head back in a bliss.

“Me neither it’s been a while-” laughing a little Lando turned a corner onto a familiar street. My childhood home standing bright and proud.

“Is it weird I’m nervous to see them again…”

“Of course not.”

Humming, Lando pulled up at the side of the road. And as if both thinking the same thing we glanced around at the many cars parked around nearby.

“Well if they’re throwing you a surprise welcome home party. It’s not much of a surprise.” In unison we both glanced at each other breaking out into a fit of giggles.

“Let’s go act surprised” rolling my eyes playfully we both got out the car creeping up the drive and knocking the door.

And within seconds it swung open revealing my mum, dad rushing down the hall in a hurry.

“There’s our little girl!” Smiling wide, I stepped indoors embracing them both tight.

“I have missed you both so much.” And just like that relief washes all over me, the calmness your parents can bring is a different kind. And I cannot wait to be able to give the same to my baby.

“And Lando! It’s been a minute!” Turning in their arms, reaching out and dragging him in.

“Your daughter has kept me miles away.” Another round of laughter rang out.

“Not the fact you’ve been playing cars all around the world kid” patting his back my dad swung his car over his shoulders dragging down the hall and out into the garden.

Mum turned around back to me smiling wide. “How’s the baby?” Her hands come up clutching my stomach.

“Oh well- they’re fine, a few more weeks and we should know the gender!” My face hurt from smiling so much. “Is dad okay?”

“Yes, honey- you know what his like he won’t tell you how excited he is.” Nodding my head as she waved it off.

“Come your dad got the barbecue out!”

“This is his way of showing his love? Cause he knows I love a barbecue-”Stepping out onto the patio, a loud cheer erupted, glancing up I laughed covering my face, and praying I looked surprised- I mean it still was a surprise the amount of family and friends here.

“Welcome home darling!” One at a time each family and friend greeted me some still doing their rounds on Lando.

Mum was right the barbecue was going, dad and my two uncles standing around it chatting, all three nursing a beer.

Truthfully I was in a bliss. I felt at ease- like once again the world was lifted off my shoulders- I could breathe without a care in the world.

That’s when it was decided for me… moving back home would benefit us. I had family here. The baby’s family is here- Max has no say in the baby’s choice all the time his playing stupid hot and cold- who have I really got back in Monaco? Just Lando now- just him and that’s the scary party, because even at times there’s no Lando.

“Y/N/N!!” Turning around to my mothers call, she gestured me over, excusing myself through the crowd I took her hand as she pulled me the last length.

“I think this is the first time his ever been late.”

“Who?” Looking up at the back door, on the patio, there he stood as always. Making the most grandest of entrances. Always, always showing up unexpectedly- And once again popping that little balloon of happiness.

“Why is he here?” All the colour drained from my face, replaced with a bright red- rage fuelling within me- with a hint of sadness and embarrassment.

“He is your friend right? Or do we class him family how long you’ve known each other- I know you see him more often than us lot but still.”

Creeping down the steps my dad was quick to greet him along with other family members, Lando giving him a curt nod of acknowledgment, then turning his head to me in shock. Mouthing a quick “you ok?”

“Max, how are you honey?” Pulling him into an embrace, his eyes landed on mine.

“I’m okay, how have you been?” Rubbing her shoulders they both pulled away from on another.

Taking him in- he looked rough, his eyes were dull, complimented with nice bags underneath clearly from a lack of sleep, he still tried and made himself look presentable his hair styled back, though a loose strand fell out onto his forehead- yet he wore it well. His smile didn’t really quite reach his eyes like he was holding back or had no energy to do so- and yet despite seeming so frazzled he looked so good. And I hate that.

“I’m good! I’m going to be a grandmother! As you know-” giggling happily turning back towards me, her hand reaching up to my arm in a comforting way.

“I know- I’m very excited!” Smiling shyly he rubbed his forearm, taking a quick glance at me again.

“I’m thinking it’s going to be a girl.” She started rubbing my belly once again, my eyes were only focused on Max, I couldn’t get any words out. “You know what I’m like Max, some say I’m a witch for how correct I am with these things!”

“Either way, longs their healthy right”

“Either way, I think you and Lando would force them into racing!” Nudging his arm Max laughed a little.

“Well they’ve got Verstappen blood, I doubt we would have to force them that much.”

My eyes grew wide as I stared at Max, before looking at my mum. Then back at Max. Then back to mum.

“Verstappen blood?” Confused my mum glanced between us both, all three of us looking at one another in turns.

“Why your bl-” pausing- her finger pointed at us both, her eyes growing wider by the second, a gasp falling from her.

“Your the fath-”

“Shhhhh!” Cutting her off, I waved my hands infront of her.

“You haven’t told your parents…?” Mumbling quietly max lowered his head slightly.

“Have you told yours?” Now back glaring at Max. He slowly nodded his head.

“That’s what I’ve been needing to talk to you about.” Sheepishly he looked down at the small gift bag in his hands. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself I turned back to my mother holding her hands.

“Mum please- don’t tell anyone okay. Not until I’m ready…”

“What about your father?”

“I’ll tell him later. I promise…” Pausing I looked back at Max. “You.” Jabbing my finger into his chest. “Indoors now.” Picking my dress up slightly I hurried indoors trying not to draw so much attention, or give off that I’m absolutely raging inside-

Once in the kitchen, I looked back at max standing over the other side of the table who was wearing a small genuine smile.

“That wasn’t funny at all Max. So wipe that smile off your face”

“Just happy to see you again…” he placed the gift bag onto the table.

“Cut the crap. And just talk.”

Raising his hands in defence he pulled a chair out for me to sit before sitting down himself.

“How have you been?”

I think if looks could kill, Max would’ve been killed roughly 33 times.

“How have I been?”

“You know, in general… the pregnancy- how’s the baby been?” The tension grew as his sentences become frantic and rushed.

Kinda cute him being nervou- No Y/N his not cute. His a dick.

Clearing his throat he put his hands up once again in surrender.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you since, well after we was at yours…” raising his eyebrows, trying to hint at the last night we shared. Staring at him for a few moments, I then slid into the chair he pulled out, finally accepting the conversation. Truthfully a part of me just wanted to be in his presence, is it bad of me for enjoying being the centre of his attention… maybe.

“Then why didn’t you?” Crossing my arms over my chest I leant back into the chair.

“Well- so as I said, I told my parents… my mum was-” my heart skipped a beat or two, praying that the response was all good- kinda hoping they was excited it’ll make this whole thing easier- “There’s no words I think she cried for about an hour, she like jumped on me!” Chuckling a little at the memory a smile still playing on his lips. “My dad however… not so much.” And just like that the smile was gone, and my heart dropped- one out of two.

“He said a baby out of wedlock wasn’t something he wanted of me, told me to keep it a secret… kinda filled my head with crap and made me believe I shouldn’t do this… or I couldn’t do this like, be a dad- and that’s where Kelly comes into this.”

I hated her name rolling of his tongue, I would’ve rather had a drop of poison. The jealousy churned my stomach.

“It’s fake- all of it with us… I mean I know it’s fake, I think she is getting a little to comfortable.” Fiddling with his hand infront of him he looked up at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… my dad had told me I needed to cut contact with you… that it’ll be easier- that way, just like move on and I kinda believed him- I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a dad, yet being around my nephews- makes me want a baby even more, and that’s when I realised the mistake I made… if you don’t forgive me I understand, I wouldn’t either. But I really hope you can find it in your heart somewhere to… or even just let me be apart of our baby’s life- I want to be a dad, so fucking much, I feel like it’s meant for me” truthfully he tugged at my heart strings, maybe it’s the hormones… but could I really forgive him that easy? Life’s been hell-

“Why didn’t you just call?…”

“Someone blocked you and I couldn’t figure out how to undo the block!!” Frustrated he pulled his phone out. And as angry as I once was- nothing could beat the smile slowly forming at his stupidity. Who doesn’t know how to unblock someone?!

“Please show me how it’s been driving me insane- I even searched up online but I couldn’t figure it out!” sliding his phone across the table. I looked up at him taking in his face once again... and just like always he was again forgiven.

“You swear you want this Max?” Biting my lips I picked at my dress once again, praying he says the words I want to hear.

Looking up from his phone, scrambling his hands over the table he quickly reached over holding onto my hand with both of his.

“More than anything in the world. I promise” his eyes spoke of pure genuine.

“This is the last time I forgive you. I swear on this Max- the last time” Squeezing his hand I stood up from the table making my way back to the garden.

“Y/N? The gift-” Max was following behind holding the bag out. Glancing down at it then back up at him I took it gingerly.

Pulling out a wrapped box from inside the bag, a small ribbon tied around in both pink and blue. Max took the bag placing it onto the table before taking the box from my hands holding it for me to pull the lid off.

Inside was a beautiful crystal set, of three bears- engrave on them was my name on one, max name on another and the baby bear still empty.

“Once we have a name I can go get it engraved on there-”

“Thank you Max.” Gulping, I felt my cheeks warm- how can something like three little bears make me well up so quickly. Closing the box back up I took it from his hands hugging it close to my chest. “It’s beautiful- thank you.”

“I think your beautiful…” his hand reached up brushing a strand of hair out my face…

“I’m sorry for everything.”

“We will see-” stepping back from his touch squeezing the box a little tighter.

“Also get Lando to look at your phone, I’m sure you both need a catch-up.” Smiling a little, reaching out and rubbing his arm gently, he nodded in response.

“I’ll prove myself- honest.” Stepping around me he headed out into garden, possibly going to find Lando.

Placing the box on the table I took a few deep breaths. One parent happy another not- my mum just found out who the dad is, my father doesn’t have a clue… Max is back, and his not technically single-

And me- I want to scream, I so wanted ti hate Max, but how can I? I don’t think I ever can hate him that’s the truth.

“Darling, you okay?” Turning around there my mum stood in the doorway smiling softly. And that was all that was needed for me to let the tears go.

“No-” I felt my lip start to tremble as she rushed in shutting the door behind her.

“Oh honey, sit down-” smiling sadly I took a seat once again, my mum pulling a chair around and in front of me.

“Talk to me-”

Taking a few deep breaths, I straightened my back, “where do I start-” we both giggled leaning into each other.

“You and Max? That’s a start-”

“Well if you mean what happened, we was both drunk mum, it really was a mistake- that happened twice” looking around awkwardly avoiding her wide eyes, “Max has been a bit difficult, his been a bit of a no show- and then after the second night we spent together- he completely cut me out, and seeing him today has been the first time in a while and well… as you know I didn’t want to see him.” Pausing I looked back at mum, “but I’m glad you did now because I found out the truth- his dads not happy were having a baby out of marriage. His mums happy- but his dad has basically forced a relationship onto him and told him to basically leave me and this baby- and Max believed it at first and he is saying now he realises that he wants to be a dad.” Huffing out a breath, I smiled finally wiping my face.

“And ontop of it all- I don’t know what to do- but I got this thing to figure out and it’s either for the better or, it’s failed, you know…”

“Well, that’s a lot to take in…” smiling she brushed my hair out my face, just like Max done not longer than five minutes ago. “Well, I’m pleased to know who the dad is, I’m glad it’s someone like Max even though his been acting silly… he is a sweet boy. And he deserves this family you are both creating.” Squeezing my hand reassuringly she continued. “But make it his last chance-”

“Mum- I don’t know if the other problem is going to ruin that whole family dynamic.”

“Honey, your a family for a reason, families are there for each other no matter what.” Standing up she rubbed my shoulders.

“Did you want to talk about your other problem?”

“No no, I think we have sort of covered it…” waving her off I stood up also.

“We better head out honey, hopefully everyone will start leaving-”

Smiling at each other, we linked arms heading back out into the garden.

And as if summoned Max was at my side, staying true to his word of proving himself.

“I got you a drink.” Holding the glass out to me, i accepted it smiling a little. “Thank you-”

My mum leant through and gave Max a tight hug whispering in his ear- whatever she said made him smile, a cute shy smile-

“Thank you.” Pulling back from each other, mum excusing herself.

“Did you want any food?” Both looking over at the barbecue, my stomach churned.

“No I feel like being sick…” laughing a little I sipped at my drink trying to hold down any sickness.

“Need me to get you anything?-” wide eyes he rubbed my shoulder gently. “Max, relax- your making me feel even more sick with all the questions.” Smiling a little, I moved past him going to sit down.

And within seconds him and Lando was both sitting down either side of me.

“So when you telling your dad?”

“What?” Looking over at Lando then over to Max.

“Well Max said your parents didn’t know and now your mum knows so when you telling your dad.

“Later.” Looking over at my dad I sighed, waving my hand infront of my face.

“You okay?” Max asked once again.

“I’m fine- just a little hot.” Max started waving his hand also in front of me.

“Why don’t we go indoors?”

“I’m fine.” Drinking my drink once again it was now Lando’s turn to pipe in.

“If you feel hot maybe we should sit in the shade?”

“I need 5 minutes.” Standing up I rushed off away from them both. And straight to my dad.

“You want some food darling?” My dad smiled at me hand resting on my arm.

There was bare to none food left, everyone had got there quickly. And just as quickly I shook my head.

“Dad can everyone go now-” swallowing I looked around at everyone- I don’t know when but at some point it got too much. The heat, the sickness, the problem. All of it.

“Err, sure honey.” His head darted around as he found a spot to put his beer down, and one by one, people started migrating out, giving me waves from a distance and a smile.

I was grateful, my dad really served- I felt guilty ending the day short but I just wanted a moments peace… and once everyone was gone and everywhere was cleaned up.

Well I say everyone gone- Max and Lando both defused leaving, sitting back down on the outside furniture and engaging in more conversation.

With them distracted I went down into the garden a little more, sitting at the little table and chair there. Under a tree with a lovely breeze blowing through and calming me. I was at peace.

My hand subconsciously rested onto my stomach, and the thought of knowing my baby was there, calmed me even more.

“Hey…” awaking me I glanced over my should at Max.

“Hi-”

“Can I sit?” Nodding over the chair, I nodded along clearing my throat.

“Sorry about kicking everyone out early.”

“Why you apologising?” Tutting and shaking his head, he sat down across the small rounded table.

“Just feel bad…”

“Don’t even begin to feel bad-”

“I already do-” laughing a little I leant towards the table, or more towards Max… the table definitely the table.

“How you feeling now?”

“A lot better…” pausing I looked down at my hands, fiddling with them.

“I need to speak to you about something…” looking back up at Max, his eyes were already on me as he nodded.

“I need to tell you something too-” smiling a little, I nodded my head.

“Okay well I’ll start-“

“Y/N I love you, not just as a friend or best friend- I think I genuinely love you.” I watched as he swallowed hard, my heart pounded, begging to be released and handed to him to look after.

“I’m moving back here-” I don’t know why- I could’ve said I love you back or, thank you- but no I chose to potentially ruin any moment we was about to have, his face hadn’t changed- I had no idea if he even heard me- he was like frozen in place.

“Max?”

“So let me get this straight. I tell you I love you- And your telling me you’re going to move across country, take my baby with you, and be hours away from me? When I’m trying to make emends for the things I’ve done.”

Nodding my head slowly, I chewed at my bottom lip.

“Right- so.” He paused turning away looking across the garden.

“Are you doing this out of spite of what I’ve done?”

“What? You seriously think it’s like that-”

“It’s how it seems.”

“No Max it’s not. Your never in Monaco, who is to say you’ll get 5 minutes when I go into labour or when the baby is here? My family are here at least I’ll have someone while your gone- do you understand that.”

Getting up from my chair I moved to stand in front of him, catching his attention.

“I have people here always… your never around. And you don’t realise how terrified I am to do this Max… I’m basically doing this alone and I’m so scared.” Once again the tears built up, rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m scared, what if I don’t know how to be a mum? And our baby won’t exactly have a dad around permanently- his in different countries all year round never home- what if this baby doesn’t feel loved enough Max? I’m so scared that this baby won’t realise how much it’s loved by us- it’s okay saying it but they need to be shown it-” letting out a sigh of relief, looking down at him I quickly wiped my face.

“So don’t judge me for helping our baby.” Max’s hands were covering his mouth, rubbing his face slowly, seeming like his staring past me. “I just feel like, every time I get close I’m really falling backwards…”

“Exactly how I’ve been feeling with you-” sniffling I wiped my face once again, Max finally sat up straight looking up at me.

“Let me help- atleast…” Max hands reached up taking mine and slowly pulling me closer, and like the sheep I was I followed along, now standing between his legs.

“I got it all covered…” lying through my teeth, Max already knowing- shaking his head. His hands slid to my hips, guiding me to perch onto his leg.

“Just let me take care of you-” it was like being in a trace, the way I just followed whatever Max done. “I’m okay…” it was like another comfort blanket, I curled up on top of Max, his arms around me securely, I knew he was still annoyed the heavy breathing gave it away. “Please stop fighting me… I want to try and accept this some way-”

“Okay…” sighing I closed my eyes, now finally accepting peace.

“I love you too max… always have.” Pausing once again, I leaned back looking up at him, “But you aren’t mine to have exactly…”

“Don’t- go there, I need to get my whole situation sorted, I just wish like-”

“Like what?”

“If I had someone like you- life would be a lot easier.”

“In a prefect world” laughing a little I rested my head back onto his chest. “I’m sorry”

“What did I tell you about apologising?”

“Not to do it…”

“Then don’t. It makes sense you being here, our baby ne-”

“Your baby?” Sitting up I turned around Max head basically snapped as he looked over.

And there stood dad.

“Well, I beat you to telling your parents.” Max mumbled guiding me off his lap, both standing in front of dad who stood there with two teas in hand. And a face like pure thunder…

A/N: Okay, sooooo Max is forgiven once again!!! How we feeling about the reader back in the UK? Orrrrr do we have a moment we’re the reader if about to leave and Max changes her mind? Keeps her in Monaco? Hmmm, anyways I hope you enjoyed a sorry it’s been so long!

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #max verstappen imagine #imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 next: Part 8

spoilers but a phone call gets through!

“You’re a thousand percent sure?”

Mike groans as he checks down the school halls, “Yes, Lucas. How many times do I gotta tell you that?”

“Well, maybe until I’m positive that we’re not having a collective auditory hallucination or the weirdo isn’t tricking us.” Lucas crosses his arms. Beside Dustin, El mutters “auditory hallucination” to herself with furrowed eyebrows.

“You guys hear that?!” Dustin exclaims too loudly, earning equally loud shushes. “Sorry, but El just said a scientific word without mispronouncing it! She really does have superpowers…”

“Not now, Dustin.” Mike hushes as they finally get to the AV club. He unlocks the door and lets everyone inside after peeking in. He guides El to sit in front of the radio while Lucas and Dustin turn it on.

Dustin won’t lie - he’s super excited to see El use her powers for the radio. He couldn’t believe it when she made Will’s voice come out. Will! Alive and singing!

But he’s still confused over Mike’s news of Will being with someone named Eddie. Eddie who? is their biggest question but El can’t say because she doesn’t know his last name or how to describe him.

“He’s a friend.” She keeps telling them.

Dustin prays it’s not Eddie Tremblay from fifth grade. The little sucker doesn’t deserve to be Will’s new friend after his football landed on their rocket project last month.

“Aaaand we’re in!” He announces, hopping behind El. Mike and Lucas squish against him even though they clearly have much more space.

El closes her eyes and listens to the whining static. Then the static changes through channels, voices quickly overlapping until they get more comprehensive. Then the voices get compressed into six, four, two-

“-Control to Major Tom..”

Dustin shoots his hand forward and grabs one of the speakers. But so does Lucas and Mike and now they’re slapping each other’s hands until Lucas finally takes it and yells, “Will, can you read us? Over!”

“‘Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong..’”

At the sound of the second person, Dustin’s first thought is oh thank God, it’s not Tremblay. Then his second thought is hm, this Eddie guy sounds kinda cool. Then his third thought is oh my god, we gotta talk to Will!

“Will! Do you copy? Over!”

“Will, where are you?”

“You feeling a bit better so far?”

“Tell Eddie we’re saying hi! Who is he? Over!”

“I’m getting cold again..”

“Me too. C’mon here.”

“Will! We’re right here!”

“How the hell are they not hearing us?”

“I wish I could go home…”

“So do I…”

El gives out a painful gasp and the radio explodes into flames. Dustin manages to extinguish it before the rest of the room catches, but the fire alarm goes off.

They all stare at the now-ruined transmitter, their only chance of connecting with Will and his mysterious new friend.

—

Eddie’s definitely missing.

It’s a fact that Jeff grows more sure of every day since Wayne Munson had asked him for Eddie’s secretive hideouts.

He keeps trying to ignore the seed of dread in his stomach, but it’s impossible now with the slightly somber atmosphere in the school after the morning announcement of Will Byers’ death. The fact that Eddie hasn’t shown up for classes or in the cafeteria again today isn’t helping either.

“If Munson’s still gonna be on his bender, he should’ve at least cancelled this week’s session.”

Jeff takes a half-open Skittles bag from Maya’s tray and throws it at Evan, making the two members jump. Maya because those are her Skittles and Evan because the bag hits his chest making more pieces fly out on the table.

“Eddie’s not on a bender.” Jeff hisses at Evan. Across him, Frankie is giving him one of his Don’t-Make-This-Any-Worse looks.

Evan huffs and crosses his arms, “Oh, yeah? Then where the hell is he?”

“Definitely not on a bender of any kind!”

“Gee thanks, that clears things up.”

Jeff’s about to snap back, but Frankie discreetly kicks his leg with a warning glare. It might be a good call because Jeff doesn’t know what to say next. Another defence of Eddie, for sure, but nothing to quench the rest of the club’s antsy-ness.

“Maybe he’s gone to a concert. Like hitchhiked to Indy or Chicago?” Maya asks after picking up her spilled candy.

“But he has a van?” Daniel, the senior member of Hellfire and their current drummer, frowns pointedly.

“What concert could’ve he gone to? Is there even any band playing in this bum state?” Evan raises his eyebrows.

“I dunno, Dio?”

“They’re touring in the UK right now.” Frankie says. Jeff shoots him a bewildered look that’s the equivalent to screaming are you kidding me? Frankie gives him a Play-Along-With-It look.

“Well, that settles it.” Evan raps his knuckles on the table. “Munson’s saved a fucking ticket to the goddamned Iron Lady’s territory and is breeding chicks in Dio’s mosh pit as we speak.”

Jeff stands up, no longer feeling hungry. He throws his half-eaten sandwich at Evan. The other boy gives out a disgusted shriek as the mayonnaise hits and stains his shirt. “Dude! What-”

“Shame on you.” Jeff keeps his voice even, just quiet enough for only Hellfire to hear him. Maybe it would somehow reach Eddie wherever the hell he is right now. “The only good thing about Eddie being absent is that he isn’t ripping the skins off of you and your characters right now. Especially you, Evan.”

He stares Evan down, who visibly gulps. “Eddie took you in the club’s open arms because he saw you were a loner who needed the right people to hang out with or you would’ve been one of the bullies. And this is how you thank him?”

He looks at the rest of the members and points at them accusingly. “When Eddie comes back from whatever he’s doing, I hope that rest of y’all feel guilty for thinking he doesn’t care. Because he absolutely does.” Then he grabs his bag and leaves the cafeteria without a second thought.

Outside is chilly as usual and the breeze helps relax Jeff’s nerves. For a while at least.

He stands at the parking lot, trying to think what he should do when he hears someone running over. He looks up and groans.

“Frankie, leave me alone, man.”

“So you haven’t heard anything from Eddie?” Frankie’s voice isn’t accusing but his look might’ve been.

“No. Not since the band practice days ago.” Jeff walks away but Frankie still follows him. “Then his uncle came and asked if I knew any places Eddie frequents. I told you guys that already.”

“Doesn’t stop Evan’s stupid theories.” Frankie mutters.

“You should’ve shut him up!”

“Are you kidding? You did better than what I could’ve done.”

“Words are stronger than death looks.”

Frankie snorts. He goes quiet as they reach the end of the school parking lot. Then he says, “Are you going to search for Eddie?”

Jeff stops. Turns and stares at him. “Uh, yeah? I mean, from what he said, Wayne’s probably already doing that. So, I dunno, I’m probably gonna do the bare minimum. Like where am I going to look, dude?”

Frankie doesn’t answer. His face is strangely pale and looking at something behind Jeff. He follows his friend’s phase and feels the dread well up in his mouth when he sees a poster on a nearby telephone pole.

He doesn’t need a closer look to recognize the black and white photo of Eddie from two months ago grinning at him or the large word MISSING written in Sharpie above it.

He tries very hard not to notice that it’s stapled right below Will Byers’ already wrinkled poster.

It’s a very strong feeling to see your best friend’s missing poster a few days after you last saw him alive.

Jeff forces to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s captured monochrome cheeriness. “Know what? Fuck it. Let’s find him. Wanna start at the woods?”

—

There’s something about singing quietly in the nightscape hell mirror version of your bedroom that makes Eddie’s fingers twitch to jolt it down somewhere.

After the meltdown at the house, Will had grew more quiet. Eddie had rocked him until Will complained of motion sickness and then Eddie had held him even when they slept.

After piggybacking the kid and singing “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” (at least until Eddie admitted death by earworms and convinced a change to “Space Oddity”) on the way back to Forest Hills, Will seemed to be back in his original spirits. Still quiet but no longer on the verge of tears next to Eddie. Although his coughs started to sound more wet and shook his small frame like a leaf.

Eddie prays to god that he can speak to Wayne this time. He hopes his uncle to come up with a cooler code system than Mrs. Byers and maybe get them out somehow.

But the trailer is quiet, save for Will’s whistled breathing as he sleeps in Eddie’s arms, the old itchy quilt cocooning them both. He has to stay up. Keep a lookout for the demogorgon in this hell land and for Wayne in the real world. But he feels so tired. If he can rest his eyes for just a moment…

The sound of muffled crying wakes him up.

—

The longer Wayne stares at the posters, the bigger the impulse to rip them up grows.

After Hopper left, he had went back inside and started on making the Missing posters for Eddie. The hardest part of it had been trying to find the right photo of his nephew and he had held back tears at how much Eddie had grown. How happier he looks.

He had printed copies at the library, keeping his head down from curious and pitying eyes. Christi Waldon was nice enough not to charge him for the fees.

Then he started putting the posters up and Wayne had felt like he was making a mistake.

Nobody never said anything how difficult it is to go around town again, putting a poster with your child’s face silently begging strangers who may disliked them to find them, and to do all of this without the police helping.

Wayne had printed 100 copies. He only managed to put up 18 of them before it became too much and hurried home.

Now there’s a pile of 82 posters with Eddie’s face staring up at him on the table. Wayne can’t bring himself to rip them up no matter what his mind demands it. He has a new superstition that if he does, Eddie will never be found alive.

He checks the time. Seeing it’s only after six, he sighs heavily and takes out his cigarette. He’s briefly overcome with the memory of catching a fourteen year old Eddie trying to smoke and how his smart cookie of a nephew swallowed the lit cigarette, immediately threw up, and sobbed while Wayne had to sit down so he wouldn’t break his own ass from laughing so far. After they’d both calmed down, Wayne showed him how to smoke properly and said-

He said…

What did he say?

Something erupts from his mouth. He clamps a hand over, suddenly worrying that he just got sick. But there’s no taste of bile. Only wet salt. He takes his hand off and, ah. He’s crying.

Wayne gives a wet laugh. Then it gasps into another sob. He covers his mouth again, unable to hold the tears back.

Above him, the lights flicker.

It feels almost comforting.

Wayne sniffs, watching as the bulbs hang on to its dear life of electricity. Then one of the lamps next to the couch start flickering as well. Slow and rhythmic.

The sadness does go away, but it makes Wayne feel the back of his neck hairs stand up.

—

Eddie drops his hand from the lights, stomping over to the phone. “Fuck this, now’s the chance.”

Will glances at him from where he’s crouching by the lights, still tired from being jostled awake so soon, “Eddie?”

He turns to him and says, “Little Byers the Vanished, how does one make a landline in the Vale of Shadows?”

“You, uh, just pick it up-”

Eddie does exactly that.

“Wait! It won’t even last-!”

—

The phone rings with a shrill.

Wayne snaps his head over to it. He’s breathing slowly, watching the landline like it’s his childhood spider.

The atmosphere in his trailer feels suddenly colder. As if there are ghosts present. Waiting.

The phone rings and rings until it gets to voicemail, his gruff message for the last decade. “You’ve reached the Munsons. Leave a message after the beep.”

There’s nothing after the beep.

Wayne looks at the lights again. The ceiling light has stopped but ones over the kitchen and door are flickering this time.

The phone rings again.

He stands up slowly, walking over to the phone. It rings louder to his ears now. He tries to ignore the sudden sense of a presence behind and beside him as he picks the phone up and holds it to his ear.

He hears static as if the caller has a bad connection.

He clears his throat and speaks, “Wayne Munson speakin’.”

The static crackles with some kind of harsh breathing. It’s loud to make Wayne cringe away and hang up-

“..Wayne..”

He freezes. The anxiety vanishes in an instant. “..Eddie?” He chokes out.

“..Wayne!”

“Oh my lord…” Wayne clutches the phone closer. “You’re alive, right? Eddie! Tell me where are you!”

“..I’m-”

The phone bursts into literal shock. He drops it with a yell and it clatters to the ground, dead.

That was him. That was Eddie’s voice.

Breathing raggedly, Wayne’s gaze snaps up to the lamps flashing maniacally. The air around him feels desperate and sinks down upon him. Anxiety comes back as quick as it comes, squashing on the brief spot of hope he felt.

“Nah, fuck this.” He mutters as he swipes his keys and runs out of the door. He can’t deal with more ghosts at this hour.

—

“Nonono—NO!”

Eddie slams his hands against the lights too hard. The pulsing glass bulbs nearly crack under the pressure.

None of it stops the sound of the truck engine starting.

“Wayne, it’s me! Can’t you hear me?!” Eddie’s throat is already dry from screaming, but he doesn’t care about it. “UNCLE WAYNE! JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

He runs outside to the ever barren yard. He tries not to think about Wayne leaving just like how his dad did in his very last visit. How he had tried to chase after his dad’s car until Wayne stopped him. How he had been a crying mess while Wayne told him that both of them will stay together from now on.

“WAYNE, PLEASE! YOU PROMISED TO STAY!”

The truck drives away, farther and farther. If Eddie can catch him-

His lungs constrict themselves again. He stumbles, scraping his knees and palms on the ground. He coughs, gulping in too many shaky breaths that almost tastes like glass shards. He calls out-

“Come back! Come back!”

It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

His throat hurts.

The truck disappears. The sounds of the trailers’ muted everyday life and his own painful wheezing replace it.

Eddie is vaguely aware of Will shuffling up next to him and wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders.

-

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost

#hellfire club: oh man Eddie’s an asshole for ditching us #Jeff: YOU are all assholes for talking shit about him #eddie: (getting old traumas resurfacing at an usually bad moment in an alternate dimension with a child stuck to his side) this is fine :) #narration: he is not fine and it Gets Worse #yeah space oddity is on the nose for that bit but shhh #eddie and will in the upside down au #the party #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #will byers #stranger things #klaus writes

[beautifulchris]

O students

pairing: kim seungmin x gn!reader

wc: 3,4k

featuring: han jisung, loona’s chaewon, the boyz’s eric, pentagon’s shinwon, sf9’s chani

summary: for two years, you considered seungmin as a rival, until his best efforts to befriend you didn't go unnoticed anymore

genres: hogwarts!au, rivals to friends to lovers!au, ravenclaw!seungmin, ravenclaw!reader, fluff

tw: swearing, a kiss

notes: moodboard made by me, pictures found on the internet. reposting works from my old blog

order of writing: chan - jisung - minho - hyunjin - jeongin - seungmin - changbin - felix

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland @kwritersworld

tag list: @badwithten @soobin-chois @raethethey send ask/dm/cmment to be added!

It was common knowledge that Seungmin was an O student, and you weren’t so far behind. In the beginning of first year up until the end of second year, you were rivals. You were competitive and Seungmin was a pain. He wasn’t competitive as much, but he was better than you, and you couldn’t tolerate it. Fortunately, he asked if he could talk to you on the train to your third year and you’ve been a better person ever since; less competitive, more open and definitely more livable. Bonus, you became friends with him.

Your parents had pressured you into being the best student and it made you do and say things you regret, but Seungmin understood, which you were thankful for. They also wanted you to be a Slytherin, like them, but perhaps the Sorting Hat knew deep down who you really were.

Hogwarts had always been a second home to you. At all times, you felt cozy and relaxed despite the amount of noise and homework. Making peace with yourself made the whole experience ten times better.

The librarian came out of nowhere with an unpleasant look —the usual— and hissed to the whole library before storming out: “Pray that I won’t find out who damaged our copy of Important modern magic discoveries.”

You looked at Seungmin at the other side of the table and laughed quietly while he shook his head. You knew who it was, but you wouldn’t snitch on a fellow Ravenclaw. Especially not when he cost too much house points already.

Seungmin didn’t like studying in the Great Hall because it was too loud compared to the library, where the librarian never accepted any sound (whispers were worse than speaking out loud for her). The common room was okay, sometimes, but it was mostly a place to chill and read.

Moreover, he knew every inch of the library like the back of his hand, so he often helped restock and find books for other students if they looked lost. You found that admirable, knowing the librarian’s temperament. He didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, she seemed to respect your friend, value even.

“I can’t believe Jisung’s scared of acromantulas,” you blurted out of the blue, the last class of defense against the dark arts still fresh on your mind.

“Me neither. He does have one fear, after all,” he shrugged. As desperate as he was, never would he use this fear to ‘tame’ his friend.

You nodded, refocusing on your task at hand, when a tired-looking Chaewon sat next to you with a light thud. She sighed, pinching her nose bridge in annoyance.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

“I just tutored Heejin for transfiguration but she’s not making any effort.”

“She asked the professor herself, though?”

“Exactly! Ugh, why did it have to be me?”

“Ask the professor to change tutor,” proposed Seungmin.

“Already did, but she said I was the second best choice, the first being Hyunjin, and he’s already tutoring a Gryffindor.”

“Wait. You don’t have to actually meet up, right?” You were not going to let your friend have a hard time for basically nothing.

“I guess not…”

“Then just don’t. I’m sure she doesn’t even need the help.”

“You’re right, she looked jealous over the person that genuinely needed it,” recalled Seungmin.

“I guess she likes Hyunjin or something,” Chaewon shrugged.

“Poor girl. He’s never going to see her that way,” you shook your head.

“Shhh!” hissed the librarian behind you, making you all flinch. No one saw her coming back and it put an end to your conversation.

A few days later, in history of magic class shared between Ravenclaws and Slytherins, the professor monotonously recited his 14th century’s witch hunt lesson while some classmates were playing exploding snap at the back. Seungmin was, as usual, immersed in the lecture while you were trying your best not to fall asleep. Chaewon was diligently writing down notes two rows back, next to Hyunjin who gave up on staying awake a long time ago. You’ve never spent time with the Slytherin girl, but she was close to Chaewon. You could hear mini explosions and laughter from behind you, and if you weren’t so drowsy right now, you would’ve gone to see how the game was going.

After the class, you went to the courtyard during recess with Seungmin.

“I just don’t get why flying carpets are illegal, you know? They look so much steadier than brooms,” you sighed, sitting on the low wall surrounding the courtyard, your friend following you.

“I’d tell you the reason, but you know it already.”

“Yes, they have been defined as a ‘muggle artifact’ by the registry of proscribed charmable objects, so now they’re banned. But so are brooms! I guess the ministry had to choose, and made a huge mistake.”

“Why don’t you send them an owl to make a change?” Seungmin proposed, amused by your beliefs.

“Are you out of your mind? My dad works at the ministry, I don’t fancy receiving a howler during breakfast for my ‘disrespect of the wizarding law’, thank you very much.”

You visibly shivered at the thought.

“Would be fun to—” Seungmin started, but your attention drifted off to a guy standing on the edge of the fountain.

“Anyone want to do my history homework? I can pay,” proposed a fourth year Gryffindor, Eric if you weren’t mistaken.

Seeing you were about to get up to walk in the direction of the guy, Seungmin stopped you by tugging on your robe. “You’re not seriously considering it?”

“Why not? If he pays well, I can buy some books at Fleury and Bott this weekend,” you shrugged.

“I’ll buy you every book you want but please. Don’t do it, you already have a lot on your plate.”

“Aww. Do I detect worry? You’re so cute. Every book I want, huh? You can’t back down now!”

Seungmin grimaced a bit as he watched you excitedly walking to your next class. He sighed tiredly before joining you, considering Eric’s offer for a brief moment to buy those books. That would’ve been hypocritical of him to do that, so he kept walking.

He never regretted it because he could spend more quality time with you. His wallet though, it was another story.

Out of the books you acquired, there was the ‘Quintessence: A Quest’ charm book destined for the sixth year students.

Back to Ravenclaw’s common room that Sunday, you browsed through it while Seungmin was, no big surprise, working on assignments. Chaewon was with you two for a few hours, then decided to go outside, quoting her: ‘to enjoy the first warm day of the year.’

As you were turning the pages, a spell caught your eye. It was the bubble-head charm.

“I can’t believe that spell is too advanced for me,” you whispered to yourself.

Seungmin took a quick look at your interest and shrugged, saying, “it never stopped me.”

“Me neither. I’m just saying that it’s a cool spell that we should’ve learned already! How cool would it be to swim in the black lake for hours, meet the merpeople and the giant squid?”

“Y/N, let me stop you right there,” he said seriously, bringing a hand up. “The black lake is forbidden, please don’t do anything stupid. Jisung is already a pain for losing house points daily,” he requested, his eyes pleading.

“Contrary to what you may think, I didn’t get sorted into Ravenclaw simply because I like the color blue. I know how to stay out of trouble.” Seungmin gave you an unimpressed look. “Okay. Okay, I won’t enter the black lake. Promise.”

“Thank you,” he let out a relieved sigh.

“I’m still learning that spell, though.”

“Y/N!”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

“The library is like a second Ravenclaw common room at this point,” Chaewon pointed out, sitting next to you at a table attached to one of many narrow rows. “I’ve seen a majority of blue robes since I entered.”

“Can’t deny it,” you shrugged, amused, finishing a transfiguration assignment.

Your friend chuckled lightly, stopped abruptly when she heard a ‘shh’ from the end of the row —the librarian, no doubt— and sighed quietly. “I have five minutes to cry over my potions essay.”

“Already?”

Lunch time was about to end. Passing your own potions essay to your friend under her thanks, you packed up your things and waited for her to rectify a few facts on her parchment.

“I’m forever grateful,” the Ravenclaw girl said on your way to the dungeons, where you joined Seungmin and the Hufflepuffs.

“Come on Chae, we’re friends. I would lend you my essays anytime.”

“You’re the best Y/N!” Chaewon exclaimed, a pretty eye smile adorning her soft features, as she put her arms around one of yours.

Seungmin stood there, smiling to himself at the exchange, his eyes lingering on your face, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jisung. As you all entered the classroom, he nudged his friend.

“Is this a one-sided enemies to lovers au?”

He friendly slapped his shoulder and told him to shut up. Everyone around you both knew your past. It was quite the show.

“It’s so frustrating! He’s always ahead of me, no matter how hard I try to be the best,” you told your cousin.

It was about April of your second year. You had a cousin who was in his 7th year at that time. A Slytherin, too.

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Y/N,” he smiled as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Shinwon was always supportive and cheerful, despite your family motto (‘be the best in everything’). At seventeen, he already chose his path, his parents accepting it or not. Indeed, he wanted to become a healer at St Mungo’s and save lives. It was admirable, and you wished you were more like him.

“I know your parents are putting a lot of pressure on you, but you’re only twelve. Enjoy your school years, forge your own path, make friends and, more importantly, be happy.”

Those words actually helped you get through the end of your second year. Your cousin was now a healer at St Mungo’s as he dreamed of, and to honor his kind words, you were enjoying your school days as much as you could.

After potions, you got to herbology.

You’ve spent the two last classes learning the herbivicus charm, and Seungmin particularly loved it. All week, he practiced on the few plants in the common room, or the ones outside.

Herbology was one of your friend’s favorite subjects, he loved to take care of the plants, even outside of class. The professor let him water every plant in the greenhouses on weekends— to his request.

At lunch, you were eating with Seungmin, Chaewon, Jisung, his partner in crime and Chani. The latter looked around the table, stopped for a few seconds, then offered his hand over the table for Chaewon to shake. She confusedly did.

“Looks like we’re likely to end up together, this feels like a triple date.” Chaewon removed her hand from his under the protests and indignation of the five persons concerned. Chani put his hands up in fake surrender, “That was a joke, jeez.”

“Not very funny,” muttered Jisung before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Chaewon glared at Chani, gently rubbing the hand that touched his own under the table.

He sent her an apologetic smile, and you were so immersed in their conversation that —you caught Chani’s red ears and how your friend’s features didn’t match her actions— you weren’t aware of Seungmin gazing at you, his brain going blank.

No thoughts, just your pretty eyes, cute smile and soft skin.

He snapped out of it when Jisung flicked his fingers in front of him. “You okay there, mate? Looks like you were daydreaming.”

Seungmin kicked him under the table —making him dramatically yelp in pain— and resumed eating his lunch in silence, trying his best to hide his embarrassment.

Actually, he had harbored feelings for you for quite some time, a few months before you talked out your rivalry. He never said anything, of course, by fear you would reject him or worse, end your friendship with him. He always did his best to hide his secret from everyone; that was until Jisung caught up.

During defense against the dark arts this afternoon, as Ravenclaws and Slytherins were practicing the twitchy-ears hex —and, therefore, the shield charm—, Jisung and his partner in crime were half-heartedly training, preferring taking their time to chat, glancing at Seungmin and you from time to time from the other side of the room. You were diligently practicing with Chaewon while Chani was with Seungmin.

The latter wasn’t fully concentrated though, often having the overwhelming feeling of eyes boring into him. He didn’t like that. It even made him mess up his shield charm, resulting in him feeling his ear twitch. He groaned, congratulated Chani and pointed his wand at his ear, whispering: “Finite.” Then, he hexed Jisung across the room when he wasn’t looking, his partner being confused because they wasn’t the one to hex him.

Meanwhile, Chaewon and you were pretty good at this so everytime one of you casted a spell, there was no difference. Both your shield charms were perfect.

“Almost would’ve liked to know how the hex feels,” Chaewon laughed during recess.

You were at the library, working on the herbology essay you got that morning, with Seungmin and Chaewon. Without a word, you put your wand out of your robe pocket, pointing it at your friend. She raised her hands to her ears, an unpleasant look on her face.

“I said almost! It’s quite irksome, actually.” You released her from the hex and she relaxed, quickly rubbing her ears, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Seungmin was lost in thought, thinking about how smart and talented you were. He had a stupid smile on his face until he shook his head and realized Chaewon was staring at him suspiciously. He coughed and got back to his assignment, not being able to fully focus.

He was losing control of his emotions.

That night in the common room, as you three were still working —uh, boringgg— on your assignments before dinner, Chaewon decided she had enough and preferred reading a romance book on her bed. She packed her stuff and went to her dorm, leaving Seungmin and you in a comfortable silence. Until Jisung entered the room, sneakily walking behind your backs at a safe distance.

He pointed his wand at your sleeves —they were a few inches apart— and whispered: “Epoximise.” He then fled out of the room like he was never here, excitedly thinking how his plan was working perfectly.

You didn’t notice for like twenty seconds, but when you moved your hand to write on your parchment, Seungmin’s left arm followed. You looked at each other in disbelief, raising your arms to see what could’ve happened.

Seungmin’s robe sleeve somehow merged with yours.

The sudden proximity —your pinky fingers touched a few times— embarrassed you for some reason, while Seungmin was a blushing mess.

“We should probably do something about that,” you finally say, gesturing to your hands.

“Right.”

“You should do it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured as he took his wand, “finite.”

“I wonder who did this.”

“I have an idea.” Seungmin looked upset, but you didn’t pry. “I’ll be back,” he said, getting up and leaving the common room in a hurry.

You took this time alone —well, almost, there were other Ravenclaws around— to think about why your cheeks burned as much as they did when your hands were touching.

You didn’t like him like that, right?

He was just a good friend you disliked before, who’s been nothing but sweet and understanding. A truly smart guy who, despite his gigantic love for academics and books, could always make time to help others whenever they needed. You loved that in him— wait.

No, no, no.

While you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t ‘love’ you were feeling, Seungmin was out for Jisung’s head. He found him on the spiral staircase leading to their common room, walking up in his direction.

“Jisung,” he shouted from a few stairs above him, startling not only the concerned, but a few paintings too.

“Oh, Seung, hey, how’re you doing?” he asked as he stopped in his tracks.

“What were you THINKING?”

Slowly walking backwards, Jisung started sweating, his friend’s anger intimidating him a little. “It wasn’t—”

“I know it was you, don’t deny it. I’ve felt you staring at me for hours today, I knew you were planning something.”

“I was going to say that it wasn’t meant to hurt you in any way, more like bring you two closer with a little push. I’m sorry.”

“I should hex you right now,” Seungmin huffed.

“Didn’t you already do in dada?” he raised a brow, crossing his arms.

“True. I guess we’re even, then.”

Jisung let out a relieved breath, “how did it go?”

“It was awkward,” he explained as they came back to the common room together, “and I won’t discuss this matter further with you. You’ve done your part,” he stopped to give the eagle knocker an answer to his riddle, “please don’t do anything else.”

Jisung nodded as he saw you were alone at the table, your hands in your hair like you were having a crisis. He excused himself before going to his dorm, while Seungmin sat next to you. “You okay?”

You shot your head up, using your hands to fix your hair. “Of course. Yeah. Totally.”

It looked like you were freaking out, which worried Seungmin, but he kept his mouth shut, gazing at your face. You finally looked at him and it was weird, your heart was still beating fast but you felt at ease. You managed to smile, losing yourself in his soft brown eyes.

“You’re really beautiful,” he whispered to himself but you heard it.

You blushed, your smile growing wider. “You’re beautiful, too.”

His eyes widened, his ears got red as he hid his face behind his hands.

Giggling, you gently took his hands in yours and brought them down, leaning towards him. You looked in each other’s eyes with adoration.

He slowly closed the gap between you in a chaste kiss. It didn’t last long, but it was sweet and made you all fuzzy inside. The euphoria ended immediately after a couple Ravenclaws cheered for you, though, but it was a nice feeling.

At dinner, Seungmin, Chaewon, Jisung, his partner in crime, Chani and you were all eating together, and you two lovebirds were holding hands under the table.

Jisung raised his glass out of nowhere, “I’d like to make a toast.”

“We’re fourteen,” Chani interrupted.

“Shut up and raise your damn pumpkin juice,” he cursed in a whisper, before smiling at his friends raising their own glasses —reluctantly or not. “To the new couple I helped”—Seungmin scoffed—“make happen today,” he announced as he glanced at you two, “next is your turn, buddies,” he added to the attention of Chaewon and Chani, who blushed hard.

“Cheers,” his partner in crime jovially said, before drinking.

“And when’s your turn?” Seungmin asked Jisung, murmuring over the table so he’d be the only one hearing.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he murmured back.

After dinner, Seungmin and you were walking around the courtyard, holding hands and making heart eyes at each other.

“Remember when I decided to learn the bubble-head charm?”

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying…” he softly answered, already feeling anxious about your next words.

“It’s not that bad, I promise,” you giggled, “I learned how to make blue sparks too.”

You put your wand out and pointed to the night sky. Making the right hand movement, jets of blue sparks came out of the tip of your wand, illuminating the sky. “Vermillious,” you enunciated, adding jets of red sparks into the mini fireworks, creating purple sparks in the process.

Seungmin was amazed, it was such a mesmerizing view. His eyes fell on your face, and, at that exact moment, intently watching as your eyes shone and your smile held pure gratification, he knew why he loved you.

You were full of life, always by his side, a good friend and so, so beautiful under the multicolored lights.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please let me know <3 and here's the masterlist!

#kflixnet #k-labels #straykidsland #kwritersworldnet #stray kids #kim seungmin #skz seungmin #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #kim seungmin x reader #kpop hogwarts au #skz hogwarts au #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #stray kids fluff #gender neutral reader #loona chaewon #the boyz eric #pentagon shinwon #sf9 chani #loona heejin #loona hyunjin #stray kids hogwarts au #skz seungmin x reader

[tangerinesperfume]

Safe in the silence, we don’t have to leave (just hold on to me, I’ll hold on to you)

Sam does not know what to do. She has no idea how to fix this.

She’s starting to think that maybe she’s not qualified for this. She knew how to deal with hungry Tara, upset Tara, out-of-breath Tara, shy Tara, chatty Tara, almost every version of Tara

But right now, she’s experiencing a Tara that’s panicking and sobbing so hard that she’s probably unaware of her surroundings. Pretty much inconsolable.

Sam’s best guess is that a nightmare occurred since she’s 100% sure that Tara went to bed.

So, here she is, trying her best to fix this.

“Tara sweetie,” Sam quietly says, “do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Tara is underneath the dining table, huddled in a fetal position, unresponsive to Sam’s words. Just crying very loudly, only slightly muffled by the way her face is hidden in her knees.

She’s been there for the last 20 minutes and Sam is getting a little bit scared.

She considers reaching out for Tara and just pulling her into her embrace to hide and protect her from the world, keep her cocooned in the empty curves of her heart that only fit her little Tara.

But she knows better, Tara just started getting used to holding onto Sam’s arms whenever they’re out and about and she gave Sam a total of 3 hugs. She’s doesn’t want to push it when Tara is this vulnerable.

She’s not used to being patient but she sits there, a few feet away, waiting for Tara to give any sort of sign.

Sam starts humming a sweet tune, praying that it might have some effect on Tara; she knows Tara likes it when she sings. She’s known for a while now that Tara hides herself close by her whenever she’s singing, she’s been singing to herself a little more loudly for her one special, hidden audience member.

Time passes by, either Tara feels better or she’s just worn out. The loud sobbing is reduced to hiccups and tears, while Sam’s soft humming is the loudest sound in the house accompanied by Tara’s shaky breathing.

When Tara turns her head to face Sam. She’s met with her big sister’s sweet smile, her big sister’s face that she knows will never hurt her, her big sister’s voice that can bring her back to earth.

Swollen, dry eyes could not deny her from seeing the possibility of hope that exists in the shape of her Sammy.

She decided right then and there to be brave. She gathers all her courage and crawls out from under the table right into Sam’s arms.

Sam’s arms that welcomed her so warmly, so safely.

She puts her head in the crook of Sam neck where she knows the world won’t find her. Sam’s hand reach out to Tara’s head, patting her and the other arm secures her into position as she stands on her feet to rock them both side to side.

“Hey, hey, sweet girl,” Sam softly coos, “are you okay? Do you need an inhaler?”

Tara shakes her head, she just wants to be where she is right now.

Sam realizes that this is a huge moment. For both of them.

They have never ever been this close and Sam recognizes for the first time that she might’ve needed this as well.

Maybe they missed this their whole lives. Anyone could tell you that they did, seeing how tightly they’re both holding onto each other.

Sam sways them for a few minutes, continues humming and waits for Tara, this time less nervous.

A few minutes go by and Tara finally speaks,

“Mommy came back again,” there’s a tremor in her voice, “she had a knife to hurt us, even sam.”

Sam’s movements stop for a second, she wants to say something quickly to reassure Tara but she beats her to it,

“It was so scary. I couldn’t protect us.” Tara whimpers, Sam can feel the tears coming back.

“Shhh, baby, no,” Sam retorts, “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you, okay?”

Tara hesitates but nods weakly into Sam’s shoulder.

Not enough, Sam thinks.

“Do you even know how strong I am?” Sam tries to brighten the mood, “everyone’s scared to fight me and even, little sam is a tough cat.”

That gets a little laugh from Tara and Sam kisses her on the head.

“And you, my sweet girl, are strongest and smartest and bravest girl I’ve ever seen, but you don’t even have to be strong because you’re so safe here with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Tara says as she’s playing with the string of Sam’s hoodie.

“Can I please see your face?” Sam asks.

Tara moved her head to meet Sam’s eyes. They’re red and swollen and her cheeks are blotchy from all the crying but there’s new look of determination in her face. A look inherited from Sam.

“As long as the three of us are together, no one will ever hurt us or even think about it, okay?” Sam reassures, “not in here or in your dreams.”

“I’ll just tell them that my big sister will come and get them.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl.” Sam laughs and kisses Tara’s cheeks (she seems to welcome them.) and brings her back into the hug.

If only the Carpenter sisters, at that moment, realized this gravity of this exchange.

If only the Carpenter sisters understood that this moment would define their lives forever.

Did they accidentally seal their fates? Or were they always walking towards this path?

#sam carpenter #tara carpenter #au: foster this love make me whole again #sam is a fixer and has a hard time letting things be #Tara takes her time with things but needs the support of Sam #sam needs to learn how to trust Tara #title: hold on - lizzy mcalpine

[bonezone44]

‘No b o d y’

Joel x afab!Reader

image credit

Word Count: 1348

Summary: A phone call with your mom goes poorly and Joel attempts to comfort you. (no use of Y/N)

Tags: childhood trauma, childhood sexual assault (vague but likely triggering), familial neglect, mommy issues. Angst. Grief. 

A/N: Possibly the same mother for Muddy Waters' Reader ?? I'm undecided. Also, I know Reader's trauma is specific, but oh well. Turning this into 3rd person wouldn't have the same effect. 🙏

stand-alone but could be read with 'Stages of Grief'

+++++++

You weren’t like other girls. Weren’t like most other people, you realized. Their loneliness could be turned into romantic tunes–songs about longing, loving and losing. Their yearn for love could be placated by a friend. Woven into a conversation among other pains and tender spots that ailed them. They could use their voices to share their dismay and people listened. People nodded in understanding. In sympathy. In connection. 

They weren’t given wide, fearful eyes and uncomfortable silences—leaving them wondering if they said too much. 

Other people had lungs in their chests. Hearts. Organs. Blood. They could breathe deep, allow their whole torsos to rise and fall with clouds of fresh air. They could find relief by walking outside, enjoying the green of nature or the loud chatter of civilization. They weren’t overwhelmed by crowds or small groups or even the presence of a single other human being. Alone in a room. 

The walls didn’t close in on them. They didn’t suffocate. They might be tense or awkward or do something silly.

But they didn’t try to sit so quiet and so still in the hopes that they would disappear completely. That maybe, just this once, they really could teleport to somewhere so far away and new and start life all over again. ‘I’ll get it right next time. I promise,’ they’d pray to their angry, unforgiving god. ‘I won’t make the same mistake again.’

—--

You weren’t like other girls.

You were barely human, to be honest.

You felt frozen in time. Frozen into the dirt on the ground.

Your arms and legs were there, you assumed, flailing and uncooperative. But your entire chest cavity was caved in. Charred. A gaping nothingness in place of a soul.

“What is wrong with her?” Your mother said. “She is too old to still be actin like such a baby.”

Your whole family was standing tall, facing away from you, discussing your behavior as if you weren’t there. As if you couldn’t hear them.

As if it wasn’t brutally fucking obvious that you were missing the entire center of your body.

“I don’t know, but she is actin ridiculous,” you heard your mother say as she and the rest of your family walked away. 

Leaving you alone.

Unprotected and exposed to the elements.

You didn’t bother crying for help. You had gotten used to being ignored. Left to deal with the nothingness on your own.

—-

Most people ignored you when they walked by anyway. Too caught up in their own lives to acknowledge your presence. Some gawked and stared at your open wound before scurrying away.

Others looked at you with pity—recognizing your pain, but unable to do anything about it.

Because any time someone tried to help, tried to get close enough to address the issue–you’d snap at them with your teeth. Lash out and attack with words so vicious and so precise.

Because you hadn’t been just lying there, waiting pathetically for someone to save you. You had spent your time studying the other humans. Their motivations. Their lifestyles. Their insecurities. You didn’t have a body, so your words were your weapons.

You weren’t going to let anyone get close enough to hurt you again. 

Not like the ones who had scooped out your insides to begin with.

Taunting you as they held you down. Laughing as you tried desperately to break free.

You weren’t like other girls who dreamed of their wedding days and who wanted attention from the cute boys at school and who got all excited about losing their virginity.

Yours had already been taken from you.

Ripped away by teenage boys who thought you’d be too young to remember. Who thought their actions wouldn’t have consequences. (Boys will be boys!) Who got away with it, too, because anytime you’d try to tell someone or show somebody that new thing you learned about, they’d stare at you shocked and upset. Blood drained from their faces. They’d slap you and beat you and tell you to ‘Never ever do that again!’

—--

You were too young to know that what happened shouldn't have happened.

—--

Denial was strong in a mother in a small town who couldn’t fathom anything so horrible happening to her daughter. By people she knew to be cruel and twisted.

It was strong for a woman many considered to be a healer, a progressive-thinker, an intuitive. 

Clairvoyant.

Clear seeing.

Claircognizance.

Clear knowing.

For how well she could see someone’s future—she couldn’t see her own daughter’s present. Couldn’t see the blatant agony you faced day after day after day.

“What is wrong with her?” she wondered.

Eyes and ears ignoring all the tell-tale signs.

“Why is she like this?” she asked.

—

You were lying in bed on your side, body half-wrapped in blankets. 

Joel stepped into the doorway, footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. He sighed. “Guessin the phone call didn't go so good.”

You threw your hand up. Sniffed.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” you murmured, scratching your cheek. You could barely breathe–your nose all stopped up from crying. 

Joel climbed into bed and laid behind you. His body cradling yours. His chest was warm against your back. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm. He kissed the back of your head. 

“I just… I want her to hurt,” you began through your tears. “I want her to hurt like I hurt.” 

“I know, darlin.” He squeezed your bicep and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your skin. 

“It's not fair. It's not fair that she can just say she didn't know. She had to know. She had to.”

“I know, baby.” He kissed the back of your head again. You felt his breath as he spoke. “You wanna take her number out your phone?”

“What? I can't do that to my mom.”

“Yeah, you can,” he said. “You don't owe her anything. You don't owe her your love or your forgiveness. You don't owe her a phone call or a birthday card. You don't owe her shit.”

“But she had it hard, too,” you argued. “Her mom was so much worse.” You shook your head. “She was awful to them.”

“Don't matter.” You felt him shrug behind you. “Don't matter what she went through. You don't have to be her friend. You don't have to be a daughter. She doesn't have to be anything to you.”

“But it's my mom,” you pleaded.

“So what? You're on your own now. You can do whatever you want. You don't need anythin from her anymore.” He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. “I got you now.”

You sighed. “Thank you, Joel,” you said with your hand on his arm. “I… appreciate you.”

It wasn’t going to be that easy. Wouldn’t be that simple to cut this woman out of your life and out of your mind. You two were so alike, so aligned, so many parts of yourselves tied together.

But… Joel was right. You were on your own now. You didn’t live under her roof. Didn’t live in the same town or same state anymore. You didn’t have to go to Sunday dinners or help her with the groceries. You didn’t have to do anything. 

She could call you but you didn’t have to answer.

She could try to plan a visit, but you could say you had other plans.

Maybe next time.

Maybe next year.

Maybe next life.

And it felt good to let go. To start severing that connection inside your gut that begged for her approval and attention and affirmation.

You felt a tingling sensation in your stomach. You felt yourself firm up.

It took years but you had rebuilt your chest cavity. You got all your organs together and tossed back inside your ribs. Poured back in a whole bucket of blood. You had found people you could trust. You had found ways to let others get close without you biting off their hands. 

Maybe you could start over in this life. Right now.

Maybe Joel could be your new family.

But maybe you just needed more time.

+++++++

#joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x reader

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jake and Emmaline have a heated discussion. You ride on his handlebars to Silver Spring and affectionately call him piss-pants. Things get heated after that--up against a tree. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.9K ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” 

Jake blinks, swallowing hard. He feels like she’s gonna make something come loose. 

“No,” he answers, trying to keep his voice from sounding as shaky as his hands feel. “No, I’m bein’ serious. Serious as a heart attack.”

 Fuck--he knows it’s stupid when he says it. He has to stifle a grimace. But he said it already, it’s sitting in the sweltering air between him and Emmaline. He’s gonna have to live with it.

“You’re breakin’ up with me?” Emmaline asks for the third time. 

Jake nods. For the third time. 

She scoffs--it’s a sound loud enough for him to hear over the sprinklers on her lawn, loud enough for him to hear over the smooth jazz her mama has playing in the kitchen as she pretends not to listen to their conversation. He’s praying that her mama stays in the kitchen and doesn't try to interrupt this--he knows he would lose his nerve if her mama came out or, God forbid, her daddy. 

Emmaline even looks pretty when she’s pissed off, which she is right now; her glossy lips are pursed so tightly that it’s turning them the shade of a pale primrose, her thin eyebrows are furrowed deeply, her cheeks are red as little apples, her honey hair is curtaining her pointed face elegantly. She’s not even sweating, which stupefies Jake because it’s about a million degrees outside, and she hasn’t moved from her spot on the porch’s sofa. She’s just narrowing her blue eyes at him with her arms crossed, the dictionary-definition of pissed off. 

“You don’t wanna do that,” Emmaline says decidedly, the edge in her voice enough to make Jake’s brows shoot up. “Like, you really, really don’t wanna do that.”

He sighs and this seems to piss her off even more. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ sigh at me when I’m tellin’ you what’s good for you,” she says with all the authority of her mama. 

He contains another sigh--just barely. But he’s so very tired of going in circles with her. 

“Why not?” His voice is pitched now--he’s so very close to snapping at her, which he’s made a very distinct point not to in the past. But she’s pressing on that special nerve of his, the one his sisters practically stomp on.  

He’s been here for an hour. He rode his bike over and asked to sit with her. Her mama brought them iced tea and left the backdoor cracked slyly (he noticed anyway) and left them on the wicker furniture on their screened-in porch. Jake knew that if he went inside, if Emmaline tangled with her mama about Jake going to her bedroom (and eventually got her way like she always did), then they would have sex. And he doesn’t want to do that. He feels bad, in a strange way, about being unfaithful to Emmaline. Not bad enough to tell her and not bad enough to not stick by you--but bad enough that he doesn’t want to give Emmaline the wrong idea by having sex with her again. 

He’s had two glasses of iced tea and he’s sweating through his t-shirt and she just won’t take no for an answer. 

Really, they’re just chasing their own tails now. And he’s tired--he woke up early to head to the Carolina’s to hay and water the horses. He lunged a few of the mustangs and shoveled some shit--all before noon. And now this prissy, pretty girl won’t let him break up with her. 

Emmaline stares at him like he should know exactly what she means. It makes his throat thick with annoyance, makes saliva pool beneath his tongue. He can almost feel that something ugly is about to come out of that pretty mouth--so much so that his fists are already clenching. 

“You really think you’re gonna get anyone better?” 

There it is. 

It feels like she’s just shot Jake and, in a way, she has. She’s hit him right where it hurts. His chest is suddenly hot and achy and he knows that it isn’t just from the stuffy air in here or the fact that he wants to go home and sleep. It isn’t guilt that he feels anymore for touching you when he was still with Emma. No, he doesn’t feel bad about that anymore. Not when Emma is smirking up at him the way she is, twirling her hair around her finger.  

Already there was that unspoken strangeness in their relationship. He lived in a double-wide with his mama and sisters; her brother went off to college four years ago and left the Odette’s in a house with four extra bedrooms. She’s going to Arkansas to party with no scholarship; he’s going to Austin to play baseball on a full ride. She doesn’t have to work; he does if he wants to have hot water. To put it plainly: he’s poor and she’s not. She’s actually the furthest from poor that someone can get. He knows it--she knows it. And now she’s smearing it across his ruddy cheeks like he’s a rodeo clown and his financial standing is a custard pie.

“Whatcha mean by that, Emma?” Jake asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

Maybe he’s a glutton for pain. Or maybe he knows that there is a loathsome beast gurgling inside of him and he wants the justification to release it.  

She leans forward, shrugging with her brow perched. She takes a long drink of her sweet tea, seemingly basking in the glow of his anger. She makes a long ahh sound before setting the glass back down and smiling softly at him.  

“Jake,” she says, tutting very condescendingly, “don’t make me say it. You’re Jim Bean and I’m Johnnie Walker. I’m silk and you’re cotton. You pickin’ up what I’m layin’ down, baby?” 

She’s relishing in this sudden anger that’s permeating the air around Jake. She’s never been able to raise his hackles before--and she’s certainly tried. This is the first time she’s successfully gotten under his skin and it feels good.

“Spell it out for me,” Jake all but spits through clenched teeth. 

He can feel his pulse behind his eyelids.

Emma adjusts herself; adjusts that little denim skirt that sits so low on her hips, snaps the spaghetti straps of her tank, lets her platform flip-flops fall to the deck so she can curl her legs around herself. She’s pissed, honestly--like really pissed. She doesn’t want to break up with Jake, not at all. But even just knowing that she’s struck a nerve in him makes her feel better, more comfortable. She delights in making him feel this way.    

“Baby,” she says softly, tilting her head, “you’re a mutt. Trailer trash. You and yours.” 

Emmaline knows that Jake practically worships his mama--she’s called him mama’s boy here and there, which is the closest she’s come to getting under his skin. She doesn’t understand why; the woman looks like she’s lived a thousand lives, each one more difficult than the last. But she knows that she’s done it now--she can tell. Calling him and his mama white trash. 

Jake’s vision goes white for a moment--white with utter and complete rage. For a moment, he’s afraid that he’s going to break the glass in his hands. He’s afraid that he’s going to set fire to the outdoor pillows with just the temperature of his skin. 

So he stands up, lets the glass slide out of his hand and shatter on the wooden planks below him. A few pieces of glass embed themselves in his leg but he doesn’t pay it any mind--he just grits his teeth, lets his nostrils flare, lets that ugliness crawl up his chest. 

Emmaline startles at the noise, blinking in surprise and looking up at Jake with her brows knit. He looms over her, suddenly bigger than she remembers him being, and full to the brim of an unpleasantness she’s never seen before. 

“You’re a stuck-up bitch,” Jake spits, his voice low and lethal. “And I only kept you around to fuck you. That’s why everyone does, Emma. You know--they call you butter. Wanna know why, honey? Cause you’re easy to spread. Hell, you’re just easy. Took no time at all for you to let a mutt into your snatch, now, did it?” 

He’s kept her nickname from her since they’ve been together, even going so far as to rough up a few of the other baseball boys who called her that in his presence. He knows that it hurts her--that prissy little thing that pretends to be her daddy’s little princess but sucked his dick in the dugout a few weeks ago. 

And Jake knows that he shouldn’t be saying any of this at all. He knows that he shouldn’t be talking to a lady this way, not even Emmaline Odette, especially not at her house where he knows her daddy keeps his guns. He shouldn’t be pointing at her with his eyes narrowed to slits, he shouldn’t be letting little bits of his warm saliva fling onto her side-swept bangs. He shouldn’t be making her eyes well with tears right now. He shouldn’t be making her lower lip tremble. He shouldn’t be full of fire right now the way he is. He should have just left--yes, he should have. But here is--doing everything his mama would tell him not to.

This happens to him sometimes. Sometimes he gets so mad, can feel the rage sitting inside him like hot oil ready to bubble over, and he says things that he knows will hurt. It’s like he’s inspecting an apple and when he finds that ugly little bruise, he pushes down hard enough to break the skin. 

His mama always tells him that it’s the only time he’s like his daddy.   

“Get off my porch,” Emma suddenly says very quietly. “Get the fuck off my porch!” 

Jake doesn’t waste another moment. He’s gone before her mama can come out on the porch and ask if Jake wants another glass of iced tea. He doesn’t even mind that there’s blood dripping down his legs. 

You’re not like his mama. When he picks you up from Dairy N Berries, which is nestled between a shoe cobbler and a dog groomer’s, you point to the blood on his legs with a grimace. You don’t move to tend to the little wounds, don’t move to ask him if he’s okay. His mama would be fussing over him, floundering for bandaids and slapping him on the back of the head in tandem. 

“Yuck! You’re bleedin’,” you tell him, stirring the mostly-melted cup of strawberry ice cream you stole for him. “Cat-fight?” 

“Hey to you, too,” Jake says flatly. 

Jake’s still trying to calm down. His heart is still hammering and his tongue is still thick with anger and his legs hurt and his bones are aching from riding his bike so furiously from the Odette’s to you. 

But here you are, squinting under the blistering sun, dressed in the ugliest hot-pink collared shirt and dirtiest pair of tennis shoes he’s ever seen. Your hair is wild, even though you would consider it pulled back right now, and your eyes are tried.

“What happened to your leg?” You haven’t moved from your spot against the building. 

“Broken glass,” he says with a shrug, nodding for you to hop on his handlebars. “C’mon, Filly.”

“Why’d you roll around in broken glass?” You ask, biting your lip when he doesn’t even smile at you. 

You look at him for a moment, realizing that he’s pissed off right now. You don’t often see him pissed, really. Annoyed, sure. Hell, even mad. But this is different--his cheeks are so red and his eyes are so glassy. Something has rattled him.  

“For Christ’s sake, can’t you just get on the damn bike?” He asks, totally exasperated. 

You furrow your brows, crossing your arms. You don’t like to be spoken to like that. You get that from your daddy, who’s started bar fights over the tone someone’s used with him. You’ve never been one to sit back and let people talk to you like this.  

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you scoff at him. But you don’t move. “What’s your problem, mustang?”   

This is what you do. You’re a pusher. You push him, even when you know he’s upset. It’s what your daddy always does when your mama is upset, what you’ve witnessed from a young age. You can’t help it--even if it wasn’t what you’ve seen your entire life, it’s just your nature. It’s in your bones to pick and press.  

And Jake doesn’t like to be pushed, doesn’t like it at all, but he’s more careful with you than he is with most people. Even as angry as he is right now, even as badly as his throat aches right now, he knows that he won’t explode on you. No, he can’t--he won’t. He’ll save it for when Harper or Callie says something real rotten to him, which will probably not be long from now. 

“Well, right now, you’re my problem!” Jake says. Sweat is starting to pour down his back and you haven’t moved closer to him. “Damn stubborn thing.” 

Now you’re biting a smile. He’s still mad, but just watching you chew that little grin makes something settle in his chest. 

He leans back on his back, sighing, squinting in the heat. 

“You aren’t gonna get on this bike unless I tell you what’s wrong, huh?” 

You nod, taking a bite of his ice cream, cocking your hip. 

“Yup,” you tell him. 

He looks up at the endless blue sky, the one that is housing the relentless sun. And he takes a few breaths, watching the clouds drift ahead and over the black cherry trees. He looks at the decrepit rooftops of all the crumbling stores. He looks out across the cracked pavement and all the wonky sidewalks. All the mangy dogs and the cigarette-smoking figures feeding change into crooked meters. He’s trying to steady his rapid breathing and he can feel your eyes on him.  

You just watch him from your spot, wishing you weren’t in jeans, wishing you were already in the spring. He looks very beautiful under the sky--it’s just something that he is. It’s intrinsic to him. He has a thick Adam’s apple and precious stubble in patches across his sharp jaw and cheeks. He has those pretty aspen-colored eyes that are coated with thick lashes and that blonde hair that gets lighter beneath the summer sun. Sometimes you get choked up just looking at him; he used to be a little kid with grubby hands and a plush belly and a red ring around his mouth. And now he’s so big--so handsome. 

It’s moments like this, this strange quiet one where he’s upset and you’re pushing and you two still haven’t talked about what happened the night of graduation, that the reality of life dawns on you. This is your final summer together in Silverkeep. Come August, he’s going to be a college boy and you’re going to be staying here. You’re going to be lucky if he visits on the weekends and even then, you’ll both be at the mercy of the bus schedule. You probably won’t be able to make any of his baseball games and he’s gonna fall in love with a pretty girl and you’re going to be working at this stupid fucking ice cream shop until you die. 

“I broke up with her,” Jake tells you. 

You nearly choke, broken out of your thoughts so suddenly that there’s a lump in your throat. 

“You did?” You ask. 

It isn’t necessarily that you disbelieved him--Jake doesn’t lie to you. It’s just that you didn’t think he’d want to, didn’t think he’d made up his mind fully about it. Since he hadn’t spoken a word to you about what happened, you thought maybe he just wanted to forget about it.

Jake nods. 

He watches your eyes as you blink at him, your shoulder suddenly pinching. You hold tightly to that cup of strawberry goop and just look at him. 

“Isn’t that what…” he starts, not brave enough to finish. There’s a lump in his throat now. 

Isn’t that what you wanted?

You just look back at him, throat suddenly thick with saliva. 

“Did you do it just cause you thought I wanted you to?” 

Jake shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. 

Somewhere down the street, an old truck engine sputters and continues moseying on down the road. They’re playing their radio loud enough for Jake to make out Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash. 

“Okay,” you answer. 

You feel suddenly naked right now. This feels entirely too vulnerable of a conversation to be happening right here in the middle of town. You wish that he would just talk to you about it--about graduation night. 

“Well, a deal’s a deal,” Jake says after a moment, nodding towards his handlebars. “Hop on the bus, Gus.” 

You ride all the way to Silver Springs on his handlebars, letting your hair flutter in the warm breeze. You’re good at balancing yourself and Jake is good at bracing your weight as he pedals. You’ve been doing this for so long that you don’t even hold on anymore--you focus more on spooning melted ice cream into his mouth, which he accepts with only a slight grimace.

“So, Emma threw glass at you?” You ask with a teasing smile. 

Jake rolls his eyes, chuckling despite himself, inhaling all that citrus on your skin. You two are only a few minutes away from the spring, weaving between mailboxes and lawn ornaments. 

“Nah,” he answers. “Dropped a glass and it got me, I guess.” 

The blood is still dripping down his calves and over his tennis shoes. 

“Gnarly,” you answer, taking another bite of strawberry soup. “She piss you off?” 

Jake just nods, lips pursed. 

“Yeah,” is all he responds. 

It’s making his knuckles white just thinking about what she said. Trailer trash. She called him trailer trash. A mutt. 

Bitch. 

Hyde’s truck is jackknifed at the head of the path you’ve all beaten over time. It’s empty and unlocked, more rust than metal and more junk than trunk. You throw the empty ice cream cup into the bed of his truck and it falls over a dirty blue tarp. 

“Bullseye!” You call, kicking your legs up in glee. 

With every little rock his tire is going over, with every sharp turn that makes you lean back into him, he’s feeling better. All that rage, all that hot oil, is fading into the background as you two near the water. 

“Done bein’ a piss pants now?” You ask him as he parks the bike near a desert willow, letting you off on a pile of the tree’s fallen pink flowers. 

Jake laughs softly, pressing his kickstand into place. 

“You’re the worst person to be around when you’re mad,” he tells you, a smile tugging at his lips as you stretch yourself out and reach towards the tree tops. A sliver of your skin peeks out from your collared shirt, a piece of skin he’d love to touch. “Such a pusher.” 

You shrug. 

“And yet, y’always come runnin’ back, don’t you?” 

It’s a short walk from where the two of you park the bike to the water. It’s almost entirely green, lush black cherry trees and desert willows growing in abundance. They create a canopy above so the sunlight breaks through their leaves in thick cylinders of yellow, kissing your hair and skin. 

You’re walking beside Jake, your shoulder bumping into him, thinking about graduation night. He’s been so radio silent about it that you’ve almost started to doubt that it happened. Maybe you dreamed it--you were drunk. Really, though, it’s eating you alive. You just want to be frank with him--you want him to tell it to you straight. 

Jake is thinking about graduation night, too. He wants to say something. But even more than that, he wants you to say something. He wants you to tell him that you want to do that again and again, that you want to do more than just that. 

“We should talk about it,” you finally say. 

You’ve always been braver than him.

His ginger pace stutters and falters. You take a few more steps, the Kentucky blue grass thick under the beaten soles of your shoes, before you notice that he’s stopped. It really isn’t in your nature to be bashful--especially not around Jake--but when you see his parted lips and half-lidded eyes, you flush. 

“You know,” you continue, unable to stop yourself. “When you…fingered me.” 

Jake would cringe if any other girl said this to him. It sounds so brash, so juvenile. But it’s you--his best friend, the girl he’s utterly and completely in love with. 

So he nods, biting his lower lip, not moving from his spot. He wants to have this conversation away from Ruth and Hyde--doesn’t even wanna chance them hearing it. 

“Okay,” Jake says, nodding. And because he’s only eighteen and because he’s chalk-full of hormones and because it’s been eating him alive, he asks, “Did you like it?” 

You find yourself nodding before you can stop yourself. You press the toe of your show against a stone and don’t let your gaze drop from his. 

“What did it mean?” He asks. 

You bite your lip. 

“That’s what I was gonna ask you,” you tell him. 

It’s quiet for a beat. If you strain, if you let the cicadas and the calling cowbirds and the bullfrogs fade, you can hear Ruth and Hyde just down yonder, splashing in the spring. You can even hear the shitty little radio that Hyde brings with him, the one that hardly ever gets service. But right now it’s playing I’ll Fly Away by Gillian Welch. 

Jake swallows hard. His heart is almost racing. He wants to be honest with you--he wants to tell you how in love with you he’s been for the majority of his life. But he knows he can’t do that right now--he can’t risk losing you and your friendship. 

But he knows he has to be honest a little bit. 

“I wanna do it again,” he says. 

You swallow hard now, biting your lip. Suddenly, there’s a pulse in your belly, one that you know only he can lessen. But you don’t move closer to him and he doesn’t move closer to you.

Jake watches a bead of sweat roll down your forehead and onto the collar of your shirt--he’d like to catch it on his tongue, like to have the salt of your skin in his mouth. 

“Me too,” you finally say. 

He swallows thickly. He can’t believe this is happening. 

“When?” He asks. 

You’re nervous suddenly--the kind of nervous you get when you’re about to dive head-first into something you’ve never done before. And you’ve never come close to telling Jake how you ache for him, how much you’ve thought about his fingers pressed against you. 

“Whenever you want,” you answer, your voice thin. 

Another beat passes. Jake’s holding his hands on his hips now, letting his eyes wash over you. You’ve got ice cream on your hands and he’s got blood on his shoes. You’re dirty and so is he. Mutts. Maybe that is what you are. But it doesn’t seem so bad now, no, not when you’re blinking those pretty eyes at him. 

“And what would happen if I kissed you?” 

“I don’t know,” you answer. Your heart is racing. But you’ve never been one to back away, never been one to hang your head and leave. “Let’s find out.” 

Now he moves. He walks slowly across the uncut grass, stepping on anthills and twigs, and makes his way over to you. You’re frozen, completely unmoving with your hands limp at your sides. 

And when he’s close enough to you for him to smell you, that familiar sweet scent, his skin gooses. You can smell him, too--all that sweat drying on his skin, all that anger thick in the pits of his body. Warmth is flooding your core, your chest, your throat. 

Jake’s been waiting a long time to do this. He kind of can’t believe it’s happening right now. He can’t believe he’s this close to you and he’s going to press his lips against yours. But before he does that, he lets his hand rest on your belly. And you don’t flinch, you don’t move away; you let him. 

He pushes you with an un-carefulness and you stumble backwards into the thick trunk of a willow tree, your head knocking into the bark. And Jake encases you with his body, suddenly so much stronger and bigger than you remember him ever being. He holds your waist, feels each of your ribs beneath his splayed fingers, and lets his other hand brace his weight against the tree. 

“What’s it gonna mean if we kiss?” He asks. He isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

You shake your head in a small way, cautiously bringing your hands to rest on his waist. You’ve touched him here dozens of times before, all throughout your life, but it’s only now that you’re feeling the plane of sinewy muscles that are hiding just beneath his faded tee.

“Nothin’,” you tell him because you think that’s what he wants to hear. 

He recovers quickly--just a little pinch between his brows. 

“Good,” he responds because he thinks that’s what you want to hear. 

You’re nearing each other now, the bark of the tree digging into the flesh of his palm and the back of your head. All the heat of the day fades into the background when his body is this close to you--a personal heater.

“You ever kissed a boy with tongue before?” He asks you. 

He’s not trying to sound like all those other desperate boys, not trying to talk you through everything like you’re an idiot. But the guilt he felt from being rough with you the first time he touched your cunt is enough to make him be overly-cautious. 

“No,” you whisper. 

He nods. 

And then you lean in for a kiss--the both of you, like you’re in total sync. Just before your quivering lips touch his parted ones, just before you let yourself get lost in the scent of his sweat and the feel of his hips against yours, your forehead presses into his with a slight thunk.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, you two miscalculated where your lips were.  

Heat floods your cheeks and a smile bites at your lips, but you don’t open your eyes except for a crack. Jake is smiling down at you, too, eyebrows pulled together.

“C’mon,” Jake whispers, “let’s try that again.” 

So you do, still smiling, feeling suddenly less serious about this whole kiss thing. 

But you almost gasp when his lips come down on yours. It’s surreal, really, when you realize that you’re kissing Jake and he’s kissing you and you’re pinned up against a tree by the bones of his hips. And his lips are warm and wet and he tastes like strawberry and sweat.

His fingers dig into your waist and you shrink beneath his palm, your heart racing, your brain pulsing. 

Jake’s holding on tight to you--he knows that. But he’s afraid that this is fleeting. He doesn’t want it to be fleeting. This is what he’s been waiting for his entire life and here you are, beneath his lips, so soft and sweet. 

When he licks your bottom lip, you almost giggle. It tickles--but it feels good. And you part your lips, trying not to let your brows furrow. But then his tongue is in your mouth and you think you can taste how angry he was earlier. You can taste every bit of his mouth and he can taste yours and suddenly, you’re gripping his shirt and pulling him closer to you. Fuck--he’s always wondered what it would feel like to be pulled closer to you like this. 

He groans--it’s a sound that vibrates the both of you, a sound that makes the warmth in your core suddenly pool.

And before he can stop himself, his hands are inching under your shirt and raising to your chest. You don’t stop him, don’t want to stop him. You’re dizzy from his spit in your mouth and your body against his. 

His hands come down over your breasts and this time, you moan. He drinks that sound in, squeezes the flesh of your breast, licks your top lip, groans. Blood is rushing to his cock and he knows that blood must be rushing to your core, too. Your nipples are hard beneath his palms and he can fucking tell that you’re wearing that tired yellow bra; he can feel the underwire poking out. 

“Don’t stop,” you mutter against his lips, face entirely flushed. 

You’re scared that when you open your eyes, you’re suddenly going to be back in reality. And you just want to stay here in his heat, here beneath his hands, here against his lips. 

“I won’t,” he mumbles back. It’s a promise--one he knows he’s going to keep. 

If someone were to happen upon the two of you right now, a stranger, they would never know that you and Jake have ever been anything but lovers. You’re holding onto him so tight that your knuckles are wide and he’s kissing you so hard that it’s making his head hurt. It’s desperate and frank and achingly, achingly honest. If you two were brave enough, if you two were older than you are now, maybe you’d both admit that this isn’t just a kiss. You’d admit that this doesn’t mean nothing. 

But you’re eighteen and he’s eighteen and he doesn’t want things to get muddled and you’re afraid of him leaving. So you don’t tell each other the truth. You just keep kissing. 

Jake, still pinching your nipples and drinking in those sounds falling from your parted lips, presses wet and sloppy kisses all across your freckled cheeks and down your neck. You fumble with the two little buttons at your collar and he doesn’t stop his assault on your throat--that makes you glad. 

Really, you only reveal a tiny few inches of your chest, but Jake devours it anyway. He will do anything to be closer to you, anything to have more skin to kiss, anything to breathe that hot breath onto. 

You’re panting now, aching for him. Your mind is fogged with delirium. 

His cock is pressing against your core now, hard and straining against his blue jeans. You’re too nervous to reach down and touch it--you don’t really know what you’re doing--but you decide that you like the way it feels against you. 

You’re the one that unbuttons your jeans and he takes the hint, letting his lips linger on a spot on your collarbone as he wriggles his fingers against the band of your underwear, wedding his hand between your skin and denim. 

It’s all happening so fast, just like it did the first time. Except now there is no Emmaline to think about and you’re only thirty yards away from your friends and you’re so sick with want that you might have a fever. 

Neither of you say a word when his fingers come down in your folds. It takes everything in your power not to moan--one loud enough to echo off the trees--and you shudder against him. It’s still a new feeling, those rough fingers parting your wetness, pressing near your clit. 

Jake is swallowing his own moans, too, pressing his forehead against yours. You’re so wet--so wet and all the two of you have done is kiss. That’s all--just kiss and you’re soaking him, wetting his fingers to his knuckles. And you’re gasping against his mouth, gripping him so hard. He likes the feeling of your fingers around him, relishes in the way your hips are twitching like they don’t know where to go. 

“Good?” He asks breathlessly, swallowing hard when you sharply nod. 

He swirls his fingers in your wetness, wishing that you weren’t wearing jeans, wishing that you were in his bed and naked, wishing that he could tell you how much his chest hurts when he looks at you. 

It’s only a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity--an eternity spent in another lifetime--when his fingers suddenly halt at the sound of a twig snapping. Both of you gasp, detangling yourselves from each other, buttoning pants and tucking things away. 

Nothing’s there, of course. It was probably a squirrel or something. 

But now the two of you are standing there in silence. Your shirt is mussed and his is wrinkled from your grip. Your cheeks are flushed and his forehead is dotted with perspiration. You’re wet, soaking through your underwear, and the zipper of your jeans is crooked. Jake is still straining very obviously against his jeans and it’s uncomfortable--he has to adjust himself as he lets his weight fall on his left foot. 

When you meet each other’s gazes, all those words and sounds and touches lost between the two of you, you start to laugh. You can’t help it--it’s not even that anything is funny. It’s just that it felt so good and he was so close to you and you kissed and now the both of you are horny and your friends are waiting on you. 

Jake watches that gap appear and suddenly he’s smiling, too. His legs are itchy with flakes of dried blood, the blood that hasn’t melted off from his sweat. He’s still panting and his fingers are stained with your arousal and he wants, more than anything, to keep going. 

“Hey,” he whispers because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Hi,” you return, smiling. 

But then you’re biting your lip, zipping your jeans. 

“Wanna swim?” 

He nods after a beat. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

And the two of you walk silently to the water, your shoulders resting comfortable against each other’s. He wipes his fingers against his shirt and you take deep breaths. It’s a comfortable silence, one that’s punctuated with Rocket Man by Elton John crackling over Hyde’s radio.

You kick your leg up, letting your tennis shoe come down over the seat of Jake’s pants. He gasps, laughing. And then he kicks you right back. Things are okay, things are good. You both know it won’t be the last time you do that. 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up?” Ruth calls from her spot on her floaty in the middle of the muddy spring. She pushes her little sunglasses to the top of her head and flips you and Jake the bird. “We’ve been waitin’ forever!” 

“Yeah, what kept y’all?” Hyde asks, lounging against the grassy banks. Mud is staining the soles of his feet and his plaid underwear is wet. 

You shrug, already unbuttoning your jeans and letting them pool at your ankles before taking your shirt off, too. 

“Nothin’,” you answer, looking back at Jake. “Mustang was bein’ a piss-pants.” 

He bites his lip when you effectively strip and are left in just your bra and panties. He had been right--you are wearing that tired bra, the yellow one with the busted underwire. You’re wearing a pair of blue panties--old ones with a tear in the seam, but that doesn't matter to Jake. You look fucking perfect right now, your lips swollen from his own, a little quake still in your thighs that he know he inspired. 

You dip your toe in the water; it’s cool, cooler than you expected it to be. It makes the knot in your belly untie and wave in the hot breeze. 

Hyde’s looking up at Jake with a perched brow, not that Jake notices. He’s too busy letting his eyes rake over your form, too busy watching every single crease and fold and hill and valley of your body move with you. 

“Piss-pants?” Hyde calls to Jake. 

Jake finally looks down, his brows furrowed. 

“What happened to your legs?” Hyde points to the little cuts. 

“He rolled around in broken glass,” you interrupt, not turning to look at Jake over your shoulder. You’re in the water just to your ankles, trying to ease yourself in. 

“Why’d you go and do a dumb fuckin’ thing like that?” Ruth calls. 

She’s a brash girl--which is the polar opposite of how she acts around her daddy, who’s a sheriff’s deputy. She reserves all her wisecracks and curses and insults for her best friends in the world: you, Jake, and (begrudgingly) Hyde.

“I was in a rare mood, I guess,” Jake calls to Ruth with a grin. 

Ruth shakes her head in disapproval. 

“Filly, you got your flask?” Ruth asks with a tentative smile. Smiling looks unnatural on her; she doesn’t look unfriendly or ugly, but she looks like she’s forcing something. She looks like she’s pushing the limit. 

“Yup,” you answer, letting the sunlight kiss your cheeks as you tip your face towards the canopy of trees above you.

“Can you spare some whiskey for a poor soul?” Ruth asks, holding her hands in a pleading gesture.

You nod, bending down and reaching for the flask in the back pocket of your jeans. 

It’s the prettiest thing you own, a gift from your father that he scrimped for to secretly slip you on your sixteenth birthday--that’s when everyone starts drinking in Silverkeep, anyway. It’s a turquoise color, adorned with glitter and little images of bursting stars. There’s a frilly F engraved on the front of it: F for his Filly.

“You gonna get drunk and puke in Rusty again?” Hyde calls to Ruth, perching a brow. 

She gives him the bird, too and barely catches the flask. 

“Like that’s the worst thing that truck’s seen,” Jake laughs. 

He’s still watching you as he takes his clothes off. You’re acting remarkably normal for what just happened between the both of you. He’s glad. Things feel good. Things feel really good. 

Ruth takes a swig from your flask, grunting and groaning her way through the aftertaste. She may hang around with the lot of you, but she won't succumb to drinking the spring water the way y’all do--she draws the line there. 

“How’s it taste, honey?” You call to Ruth, giggling. 

Ruth sends you a prominent thumbs down, her round face still pulled into a grimace. 

“Fuckin’ awful,” she says. “What the fuck is this? Lighter fluid?” 

“Everclear,” you tell her with a shrug. 

It’s what your daddy keeps at the back of the liquor cabinet, not exactly inviting you to drink it but not stopping you either. 

“Well, it’s fuckin’ awful,” Ruth sighs, tucking the flask against her float. 

“Ruth Gabriel, you’re so grumpy today,” you laugh, letting the water kiss up to your knees now. You’re pretending like you can’t feel Jake’s eyes on you. “What’s the occasion?” 

Ruth pushes her sunglasses back over her head as Jake steps over Hyde’s pale form and beside you. He’s close enough that your elbows are touching--it makes you warm all over. 

“Born this way,” Ruth answers, letting her hands dip in the water. “Can’t be helped.”

“You’re too pretty to be so damn mean all the time,” Hyde says--strictly to get under Ruth’s skin. 

“I’ll wring you out like a washrag, stringbean,” Ruth promises, her voice even. 

Hyde holds his hand over his heart, heaving a sigh and making his bird-chest puff out. 

“She really loves me, don’t she?” 

You roll your eyes. Ruth and Hyde are always going back and forth like this. 

“Waitin’ on an invitation?” Ruth asks the two of you. 

You shake your head, squishing the mud under your toes and watching a few water-gliders slink across the rippling water. 

Silver Spring is the only place in Silverkeep that could be considered nice objectively. It’s uncharacteristically pretty for this part of Texas--the kind of pretty that almost makes you feel guilty, like if you touched the Mona Lisa or sneezed on The Thinker. Maybe because it is so beautiful--that sticky, guilt-inducing kind of beautiful--that no one ventures down this way. You, Jake, Ruth, and Hyde are almost always alone here, save for a few reckless middle schoolers that are easy to scare away and some drifters who mind their own.

The black cherry trees and American sycamores are thick here, sprawling across the hills and thinning only when the St. Augustine grass rolls to a sudden stop at the edge of the spring. There are patches of thistles and black-eyed Susan’s spanning across all this fertile land--it always smells sweet here. 

Jagged, brown rocks climb out of the green water and up the hillside--there’s a lip where you sometimes jump off. There’s a pipe, a big ugly and dirty thing, that acts as some sort of man made waterfall. Rock rose plants are starting to cover the pipe now--it’s been here for a long time. 

The water never gets very warm--there’s too much shade. But on days like today, days when the only solace is being neck-deep in a bath of ice, that’s mighty fine. The spring is not very deep, either--only nine feet at the very center. Hyde was the one that figured it out, diving into the murky water with a measly stick as his measurement gauge.

“M’comin’ to get my flask,” you promise Ruth, finally submerging yourself in the cool water. 

It feels like being dunked in ice--but you relish in the feeling. You were already running hot your entire shift at Dairy N Berries, but then Jake had gone and made you burn with a desperate fever only a few minutes ago. And he’s right behind you now, treading the water, staying beside you. 

When he knows no one can see it, when he knows that the water is too murky and you’re too far away from Ruth and Hyde both, he nudges you softly. It’s just a little thing, just something against your hip in the water. If Ruth and Hyde did see it, they wouldn’t even bat an eye. You and Jake have always been all over each other--everyone at school thought you were a couple, anyway. But he wants this to be a private touch, one only you can feel, one only the two of you know about. 

You all stay in the spring until late that night, despite Jake having to be up so early to get to the Carolina farm. You’re all mildly tipsy, passing around the putrid alcohol in your flask, laying out on the banks in the mud to dry off. You’re nestled into Jake’s side, which isn’t unusual, and he’s humming softly.

“Where’s Misty?” Hyde asks, coughing softly when he pulls the flask from his mouth and passes it back to you.  

Night has moved in completely now--there’s hardly any light now except for the puny fire Ruth started, which she only knows how to do from her one and only summer at Girl Scouts camp. It’s not warm enough to keep any of you warm, but you refuse to put that ugly pink shirt back on. 

“In my room, I hope,” Jake answers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders when he notices that your lower lip is trembling with cold. 

“Should’ve brought her,” you tell him, moving to lay your head on his shoulder.

And this isn’t a new touch, either; but both of your hearts race just the same anyway. 

“Would’ve been you or her,” Jake breathes, “and I chose you.” 

Your heart squeezes.

“Such a gentleman,” Ruth sneers, stoking the fire with a stick she found. “Chose you over an inanimate object.” 

Jake glances up at the stars breaking through the tree branches. He at least likes that about Silverkeep--he can always see the stars so clearly. 

“Reckon I’d choose her over any inanimate object,” Jake sighs. “I’m just such a romantic.” 

“Emma ain’t gonna like that,” Hyde laughs, judging Jake. 

You tense up. You glance at Jake’s face, which has pinched suddenly. But then he shrugs. 

“Won’t have to worry about her anymore,” Jake says with a shrug. 

Hyde and Ruth lean in, mouths parted. 

“Y’all done?” 

Jake nods. 

“Since when?” Ruth asks.

“This afternoon,” Jake answers, scratching his scabs as if just the mention of Emma makes them itch. 

“Well, hot-damn,” Hyde says, raking a hand through his stringy red hair. “Thought she’d be worth keepin’ around for the summer.” 

The crickets are singing now, right along with the bullfrogs and the owls. The fire is crackling minutely and you think that if you strain, you can hear the words Jake wants to say. 

“Nah,” Jake answers finally. “Not worth the trouble.” 

“Good riddance,” Ruth adds after a moment, crossing her arms. 

Jake cracks a smile, squeezing your arm softly. 

“That is exactly what my mama said, Ruth.” 

When you’re sitting on the bars of Jake’s handlebars again, his shirt over your body and your pink polo slung over his bare shoulder, you can’t help the smile on your lips. It’s been a good day. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?” Jake asks you, chin perched on your shoulder. 

“You, I guess,” you answer, sighing as the breeze tickles your nose. 

He swallows hard, his chest squeezing. 

“What about me?” He asks as he pedals past pastures lined with listless cows. 

The only thing lighting his path is the moon now. But he knows his way home--he could do this blindfolded. It’s muscle memory at this point, especially when you’re reclining against him. 

“Can’t I just smile about you?” You ask, biting your lip. 

A beat passes--gravel crunches beneath the bike’s tires.

The two of you are utterly alone now, in the thick of the country, just you and Jake and his bike and his shirt over your body. Your hair is dried now and his blood has mostly been washed off. The moon is bright and the stars are bright, too. It feels good out here--smells like sweetgrass. 

“I reckon you can do whatever you want,” Jake finally answers. 

But then he does it. He does it really without even thinking, like it’s muscle memory even though he’s never done it before. He takes his eyes off the path and presses his mouth against your shoulder, the one that’s covered by the oversized sleeve of his t-shirt. And you bask in the warmth for a moment before you turn to meet him. And he keeps peddling and you keep sitting on the handlebars and no one is watching where you’re going when you lean in and kiss again. 

He can feel the steering getting wonky, can feel that he needs to open his eyes, but your mouth is so wet and warm that it feels like taking a bath. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you. He really, really doesn’t. 

So he starts to brake, not accounting for the fact that you’re not holding on. Just as you’re about to call out that you aren’t holding on, just as you’re about to reach for purchase, Jake balls your shirt in his fist and tugs you back against him. Neither of you care about the awkward angle, neither of you care about anything but each other as you kiss in the moonlight. 

He’s hungry for you and you’re starving for him. 

“Gotta get home,” you pant against his mouth, not pulling away when he kisses you again. 

He’s holding the back of your head and you have your palm on his chest, over his racing heart. 

“Okay,” he mumbles back, but he doesn’t stop kissing you either. 

“You’ve gotta get up in a few hours,” you say breathlessly, letting your hand cup his cheek. 

He leans into your touch, groaning softly, holding you tighter. 

“Yeah,” he mutters. 

But neither of you pulls away.   

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: love these stupid idiots.

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@violetta-ximena

@hazyretina

@illicithallways

@chicomonks

@royalpurplehuskies

@widemiffyhappy

@djs8891

@shari_berri

@dempy

@ofxinnocence

@jmitxhieo

@callsign-cacti

@myfaveficrecs

✯ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝/𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬, 𝐃𝐌 𝐦𝐞!

#hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman seresin #hangman angst #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman au #hangman fluff #hangman series #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #top gun maverick hangman #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake x filly #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst #jake seresin series #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin smut #rumours universe

[ceilingfan5]

Y– It makes me think of you. please?

The low fire crackles and dances, waving its own eulogy on the damp breeze that needles right through Taako’s four layers of clothing, and there’s no way to deny the way it hurts. He didn’t even need it tonight–dinner was a scrounged hunk of cheese and some olives–but no, no, he needed it. It hurts when he doesn’t have one, and it hurts when he does. He feels like a moth, dashing himself among the coals or mourning the shape of it inside him, and he hates this. He hates this so deeply, pitch and sticky, that it threatens to choke him, spill out of his mouth and drown the world, but he swallows it and nudges the fire with a stick instead.

He can’t afford to be noticed, and the light is hard to miss in the depths of the forest so thick it feels like he’s underwater. But he can’t–he can’t go a night without one. 

Taako is a patently unserious person. That makes moments like this even harder to stomach. It’s hard to laugh it off with fear, dripping and cold, in your heart. It’s hard not to freeze like a rabbit at every cracking twig, every rustle, every silence too loud. He never was the kind of guy who prayed, although he’s pretended a time or two, just for a meal or bit of shelter, however temporary.

He talks to himself, sometimes, though. Maybe not himself–a self outside of his self, something realer than he ever was. The kind of person he’d be if he could care. Hardly an angel, but not quite the specter of death on his heels, either. A warm memory of something that almost felt like home, a fiction wrapped in thorns he can’t quite let go… but the pain keeps it from being too sweet to even consider his. Nothing real, nothing he could ever hope to grasp, but the last red coal at the bottom of his fire, the only thing that ever seems to keep his blood from icing over in his veins, anymore.

Stupid, embarrassing. What possible use could a hardened guy like him have for an imaginary friend? He never…he doesn’t think he ever played that sort of thing as a child, but he holds it with white knuckles now, on the run for his life? He doesn’t get it, and it feels foolish, but…

“It makes me think of you,” he whispers, no, barely breathes to the flames. No one can hear this. He doesn’t even want to hear it. He blinks back echoes of the light, eyes aching. “You aren’t even real. I don’t know a thing about you. But it makes me think of you.” 

Obviously she- it- fucking whatever the stupid game he’s playing doesn’t respond. It’s fake. Bullshit. The last swings of a man going down with nothing to show for all of it. 

Then again, why not? What’s stopping him? He opens his mouth and more falls out, words he didn’t think, let alone plan. It numbs his ears to listen, it feels wrong, makes his hair stand on end.

“I cut my hair,” he says. “You’d hate it.” Who? “I couldn’t be me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be me again. But maybe if they don’t hunt me down, it’ll grow back.” 

He stares as the flames get lower, slower. 

“It looked terrible anyway. I don’t want to look at myself anymore. It’s not right. Me! You know how vain I am. But I see my reflection and I want to hurl.”

Imagine if someone answered. Imagine if anyone could answer for this. He’s better off not even hoping. 

“I think I’m headed to Neverwinter.” This is news to him, but it sounds right. “I’ll get a job, or get tried and executed, either way, something will change. Something has to change.”

It starts to rain, and the fire fizzles. Taako throws his hood over his head and stands, staring at it, nearly enchanted, wanting so badly to understand and knowing he wouldn’t be able to even if it did make sense. 

“Something has to change,” he repeats, and he dumps dirt over the fire, smothering it completely. 

He puts his hood up, and tries to forget all that. It’s not doing him any good. Maybe things won’t get better, but at least they won’t stay the same. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, almost hard enough for his ribs to crack. The wanting is heavy on his tongue, poison, and he swallows hard. 

#taz #tazb #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #sorry this hurts

[threeletterslife]

19 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, character death, grieving, mentions of blood

⨰ wordcount: 4.5k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Circa Citrine⧗⧖

It’s starting to get colder. When you wake up, frost decorates the drapes of your tent, and by noon, they’re drenched with melted ice. Tomorrow, it’ll be Circa Zircon. There are rumors that there will be another truce this year, but nothing’s set in stone as of yet. Still, everyone is hopeful.

On cold days like this, you like to hold your flames in your left hand, allowing them to thaw your body as you use your other hand to flip through your letters from Hana.

She’s writing in capital letters again, begging you to visit Aella since you’ve already visited the other sectors. She seems to be doing well, keeping you updated on her health, and her progress has been good so far. She says she misses you and also “kicking Darlaean ass,” which are her words, not yours. You can’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm. Her letters are filled with vivid imagery and hilarious anecdotes. Hana has a special talent that makes the simplest things sound like an exciting adventure. It makes you wonder if she starts snoring when she reads through your letters. She makes you promise to tell her everything that goes on in your life, but all that really goes on are waking up, planning battles, eating, planning more battles, attending officer meetings, eating again, sleeping and waking up to do it all over again. There’s no way you can make that sound interesting. So anomaly days—such as the day you visited Ara with the General—always give you great joy to write about. Though you had conveniently left out the part of the General’s confession of his past and his insecurities.

You laugh out loud when Hana calls the day you spent with the General romantic. It was anything but! Romantic? You visited the burial grounds with him! That’s the furthest thing from romance. The mere idea of it makes you snort so hard that the flames in your hand flicker. 

And just when you’re about to turn the page of the letter to see what else Hana has to say about your relationship with the General, Nayoon nearly rips open the entrance to your tent and rushes in, falling onto her knees right in front of you. Your smile wipes off your face. She’s crying. With the tears streaming down her face, it’s a wonder that she can even see right now. The fire sitting on your palm extinguishes.

“Nayoon! What happened?” you say, immediately crawling forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” You run about a thousand possible scenarios through your head. She’s been ordered to go back to Elu. She’s been exempted from fighting, just as you have. She’s been going through some mental turmoil and she’s coming to you for solace. 

But all of those sound wrong. She looks too distressed. Something’s not right. Something horrible has happened. It’s as if someone has died.

You freeze. 

Your mind goes numb. 

Your heart seems to stop beating.

“N-Nayoon,” you say in a trembling voice. “W-Who…?” You’re terrified of the answer. There’s a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. You feel like throwing up. You pray to Sooht, Soo, Sahn and Sori that it’s not him.

“It’s the Lieutenant,” she chokes. “She’s dead.”

Everything becomes a blur after that.

There’s a persistent ringing in your ears that won’t seem to go away. You can’t tell if everything is happening quickly or slowly. You don’t think you’re processing anything. You don’t know if you’re breathing.

Suhyun finds you and Nayoon huddled in your tent, both shell-shocked and unmoving. You think Suhyun’s crying herself, but you can’t be so sure. But she drags you and Nayoon out and orders her two captains to help carry both of you outside to get some fresh air. You’re not sure who tells you this—the voices are beginning to blend in together—but there will be a burial ready in a few hours.

You think Captain Chu asks whether you’ve eaten lunch, but his words fly over your head. Nothing feels real anymore. You’re shivering. Not because it’s cold but because Doyun’s dead. Gone.

You hear Captain Chu yelling at somebody that you’re shaking. Someone envelops you in a warm blanket, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the fact that Doyun is dead. 

You’ll never see her again.

When was the last time that you talked to her? What was the last thing she said to you? The last thing you said to her? Why can’t you remember?

Your thoughts repeat.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Each time, you still don’t have the answer to your questions.

You don’t know how long it’s been when you hear a voice calling your name.

“Hey… Y/N?”

It’s Suhyun. Her voice is shaky. You hear the distorted noise of her rings clinking against each other. “You need to eat, Y/N,” she says. She hands you a bowl of hot porridge. But when you don’t respond, she sets the bowl down to the side. “At least drink some water.” You still can’t bring yourself to react. 

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Shut it, Goe,” Captain Chu says. “As far as we know, this is the first death of someone she knew.”

“It’s not like she died.”

“Go be an asshole somewhere else, Captain,” Suhyun says. She sounds angry. You’ve never heard her sound so vicious. You want to thank her for her help but the world is spinning. One wrong move and you think you’re going to heave.

“We can’t baby her every time someone dies.” That sounds like Captain Bak. “The funeral’s starting. We should go.”

Suddenly, you’re being hoisted up. You can’t seem to walk, so they carry you instead. By the time you reach the familiar burial grounds, you find that Doyun’s already been buried. The mound above her is devoid of grass. People have circled around her. Some are crying. Others are looking down at their shoes.

Someone pins a white flower into your uniform. 

No words are spoken.

Then, a few people step out, closer to the mound. They all crouch down, kneeling on the ground. Their hands touch the bare grave and grass sprouts from the soil. Soon, this mound looks like the others. One by one, everyone drops to their knees, their palms touching the ground as they bow deeply. You fall to your knees as well, but only because your legs give out from underneath you.

Everyone begins to stand again, and someone helps you back to your feet. The crowd begins unpinning their white flowers from their chests and throwing them around the circular mound. You watch, though with hazy vision, as these flowers begin to root themselves into the soil, growing into a full-fledged chrysanthemum bush.

People are whispering amongst themselves now with bowed heads.

“She was such a good person…”

“Such a pity…”

“Goes to show that nobody is immune to the war.”

“I heard it was an accident.”

“I heard she died saving someone else.”

“I hope our prayers will reach the spirits.”

“I wish her a peaceful afterlife.”

And just like that, the crowd around Doyun’s grave begins to disperse. But you have no intentions of going anywhere. You’re still trying to process the permanence of her leave. She’s not going to come back as Nayoon did. You won’t be able to write letters to her as you do with Hana. You will never be able to talk to her again.

You sink to your knees.

It doesn’t feel real.

It can’t be real.

The funeral happened too quickly.

And people left. Just like that.

Someone puts a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, would you like to leave with us?” It’s Suhyun again.  

“Let her process it alone,” says Captain Bak. “She needs to cry. She’s still in shock right now.”

Suhyun sighs. “Well…” A long pause. “I’ll come back to get you before it gets too dark.” She waits for you to answer, give her some sort of sign that you’re listening. But when you don’t, she gives you one last glance before leaving along with Captain Bak. But maybe Captain Bak is right. Maybe you do need some time alone. 

Yet… how can everyone move on so quickly? How can they be so sad one minute and then go about their day the next minute? 

And why aren’t you crying? Why haven’t you cried at all? Is there something wrong with you? Are you really still in shock? Will the shock ever wear off? What if you’ll be stuck in this hollow state forever? What if you can never feel again? But your frenzied thoughts, they all fade away after a while. All you can do is stare at her grave, unblinking, unmoving. 

Emptiness.

It’s the first time the world comes to a standstill.

Or maybe your senses are shutting down. Your eyesight is blurry. You’re panting, gasping for breath—like you forgot how to breathe. The ringing in your ears is back, louder than ever. 

But when your shaking eyes shift to the mound next to Doyun’s, something snaps inside of you. Something that had been inevitable. As if it had been waiting for you to trigger it.

Your vision clears momentarily. You catch a glimpse of it.

Pansies. White pansies. They fill your vision.

Doyun’s been buried next to her girlfriend.

The first few tears roll down your face slowly, silently. The next few come in rapid succession. Then, all too soon, you’re sobbing loudly. You sob into your hands, attempting to muffle your cries. There’s an uncomfortable lump that grows in your throat, and it won’t seem to go away. It’s choking you; you aren’t able to breathe. And the few moments of silence where you’re gasping for breath, you’re shaking. 

You can’t seem to think.

The only thing you can do is cry. You don’t know how long you’ve cried but your voice becomes raw and your eyes become puffy and your cheeks become irritated from the salt of your tears. Nothing comes out of your tear ducts anymore. You must’ve squeezed them dry.

But you continue to scream. It feels like you’re ripping your throat; you can taste the iron. Yet you can’t seem to stop. Only when you gasp for breath, gulp in the dull air, does your throat finally get a reprieve. It feels good for a split second before you torture it all over again.

Only this time, you notice someone sitting next to you. A familiar silhouette. The hunched back, the soft hair… 

He notices you staring at him, mid-breath, mid-scream, but doesn’t speak. Just looks straight forward, keeps you company but doesn’t force you to be sociable.

At that moment, the scream dies in your throat.

He looks disheveled, fatigued. You aren’t sure if he was at the funeral, if he was sitting next to you all along but you hadn’t noticed. Had you been screaming in his ear? Why did he choose to stay?

The General finally looks up, meeting your eyes. Then, wordlessly, he passes you a cup of steaming Incha. Your hands shake as you grab onto it, but the General must’ve accounted for that because none of the drink spills out. He’d poured in just enough. You take a slow sip. The liquid descends your throat, soothing just a bit of the soreness of it. You’re not sure if it’s because of the Incha or because you cried everything out of your system, but you suddenly feel better than before. The world isn’t spinning anymore, nor is it at an eerie standstill. It looks the way it always looks. Normal. 

And that’s when your senses come back to you. You realize the sun has set. It’s nighttime. You hadn’t noticed before. The night breeze is cool on your clammy skin as you and the General sit in silence. 

He looks down at his own hands. They’re rough and calloused and dirty. The nails have been bitten off—so much so that the edges are bloody. It stings when he touches them. But who knows? The blood could also be from a Darlaean. Everything’s bathed in blood these days, anyway. What’s a few more drops on his nails? He continues to stare down at his hands, until he remembers why he decided to come here in the first place.

“I wanted to read you something,” he says.

You don’t even react. Don’t even turn his way. He understands. “It’s a note. From Doyun. She told me to share it with the people who needed it…” He searches you for a reaction. 

Nothing. 

“Would you… Would you like to hear it?”

Again, there’s nothing.

For the first time, the silence is uncomfortable. Yoongi is unsure of what to do. But he might as well finish what he’s started. So he gently tugs a folded piece of parchment paper out of his uniform. He unfolds it, lights a flame with one hand to combat the night, and begins to read.

“‘Dear whoever, if you’re reading this, I have died.’” He pauses, watching for your reaction again. There’s nothing. So, he continues. “‘But don’t fret. Don’t you dare worry. I’m sure Yoongi took good care of me. By now, I’ve been buried next to Minhee, just as I always told him to do. And if I’m not buried next to Minhee, dear soldier, I beseech that you confront him and demand that he grants me one last fucking wish. But Yoongi’s responsible. He wouldn’t do me any wrong. Especially not after I’ve died.

“‘By now, you might’ve already shed some tears for me. But don’t feel pity, soldier. Don’t feel sad. I was never afraid of dying. You see, this is my closure. I’ll finally be with my Minhee. I’ve been alive for enough in this damn war. It’s time for me to retire. Think of it like an eternal rest. I’m sure the spirits will take good care of me, and I’ll be reunited with Minhee. So soldier, don’t be sad because wherever I am, I will truly be hap—’”

“Please…” your voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Please stop.”

Yoongi immediately stops talking. In fact, he freezes. Was this a mistake? Did this make you more upset? Maybe he should’ve minded his own business. But he was only worried. He heard from Major Ki that you broke down when you heard the news. That Major Ki and Captain Chu were so worried you’d pass out that they stayed by your side for three hours, until it was time for the funeral. Major Ki described it like you’d lost consciousness. Except, you were awake and blinking and breathing.

Meanwhile, you are still awake, blinking and breathing. You just can’t bring yourself to do any more than that. 

Closure?

Fucking bullshit.

Death isn’t closure. It’s a cutoff. You refuse to believe that in Doyun’s last moments, she was happy to be dying. What if she was in pain? If you’re in that much agony, is it even possible to accept death? Or are you more likely to accept it with open arms? Or do you try to fight back? Do you try to hold on? 

Doyun didn’t know how she would die when she wrote that note. So how could she accept her death if she knew so little about it? What if she died a horrible death? What if she suffered? What if… she doesn’t reunite with Minhee?

Somehow, there are still tears left in your body. They begin to fall from your eyes, silently rolling down your face. 

Yoongi notices. But he doesn’t know what to do. So he just watches. Lets you cry. Death is hard. He remembers when he was younger, when he first learned of eternal rest. He remembers being confused. How can something be so permanent? How can it be so unpredictable?

He was never solaced as a child. Consequently, he doesn’t know how to solace others—other than to stay by their side, hope his presence is somewhat enough. 

You’d once told him that you’d follow him until you died. Well, he’d do just the same. Maybe even more. 

⧖⧗Circa Zircon⧗⧖

It’s been a week.

You’ve already profusely apologized and thanked those who had cared for you that tragic day. You’ve especially apologized to the General—for neglecting to speak to him when he was only trying to make you feel better—though he waved your apology away.

So much has changed in a span of seven days. Major Ki is now Lieutenant Ki, inheriting Doyun’s previous responsibility of fighting in the place of Major Jang. Captain Chu is now Major Chu. After her promotion, Nayoon is now a third sector captain. There’s also a new face in the officer circle: Captain Jo. She was one of the top soldiers in the third sector—hand-picked by Lieutenant Ki herself. Now, she has become the newest addition to the officer meetings, and she’s got big shoes to fill—Im Nayoon wasn’t your average captain.

There’s been so much change, but you haven’t been reacting properly to it. Things seem to happen, and they also seem to pass by just as quickly. It seems like ages ago when you were laughing and giggling at Hana’s letters, not having a clue of all the disasters that would follow.

You’ve grown increasingly numb. And though you still complete your work—for if you stopped to mourn and cry, you would be letting down thousands of others—you’ve lost your joy in it, your passion. It’s hard to go about your day, then realize that you won’t be able to sit down and have tea with your favorite Lieutenant anymore. That you won’t be able to hear her funny jokes or her sarcastic remarks. That you can’t go to her for advice or hear her hilarious anecdotes anymore. 

You miss her, and it’s only been a week.

Will you miss her more as time passes? Or will it begin to fade away?

The General once told you that time can heal, but what if it leaves an ugly scar?

The first snow is late this year. You didn’t think it would come today, so you’re shivering outside in your cotton uniform, bowed down in front of Doyun’s grave, paying your respects as you’ve done every day since the day she died. The snow falls onto your back, and the frost on the ground clings to your knees, your elbows. But you stay in your bowed position.

Until you hear footsteps superimposing the white snow collecting on the ground. You quickly stand on your knees, brushing the wet snow off of your uniform. Only to see him. The General. He spares you a small glance, before he, too, sinks to his knees and bends forward, bowing in front of his former Lieutenant’s grave. And he stays down for a considerable amount of time.

When he finally sits up, he refuses to look in your eyes. “It’s cold, isn’t it?”

You only hum in reply.

Silence.

Then, to his surprise, you speak. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to anyone first after the burial. 

“I just… don’t want to believe it.”

He turns to you, eyes softening when he realizes you’re crying again.

“I know,” he says, though he wishes he could say something more comforting.

“I can’t remember the last thing I said to her.”

He can’t remember either. Was it before she went out to the battle that ended up killing her? Or was it after the battle, when they rushed her barely conscious body into the medical tent?

“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” he tells you. But he knows how much last words can matter. He keeps his brother’s last words close. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he had simply forgotten.

“Is it?” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t even get to see her before she left. I never thought she wouldn’t come back.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Stupid! Idiot! How is it that he can console his other soldiers but not you? Why does he second-guess everything he wants to say to you?

“I feel so empty,” you say. “There’s a gaping pit in my stomach.” A snowflake catches on your lashes, and you blink it away; it immediately melts on your skin. “I don’t feel like myself, and it’s scary. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You’re grieving,” Yoongi answers. “You’re dealing with insurmountable sadness, and this is how your body reacts. You don’t have to know when you’ll be back. Just be… Just be gentle with yourself.”

More tears spill out of your eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t. You’re our officer. We trust you.”

“I just don’t get how everyone else is doing so well.”

“We put on a façade for the others,” Yoongi answers. “No one is ever doing well.” He pauses. “So it’s okay if you aren’t either.”

You sniffle, wiping away your tears with your already wet sleeve. “Then, sir?”

“Hm?”

“How are you really feeling?”

His eyebrows turn down in concentration as he tries to think of a word to encompass all of his emotions. But then again, there’s not much to encompass. So he opts for, “Numb.”

“Numb?”

“Yes.”

He feels empty. Doyun had written him a personal letter—one that fell out along with the other note that he’d read you. The note he had expected; she told him she was going to write it. But the letter? No, that had been a surprise and a rather depressing one at that. Yet he took all the words in, felt nothing, read it again, and still felt empty.

Dear Yoongi,

Surprise! You didn’t think I’d leave you a letter, did you? I was never too sentimental. I remember three years ago I had to wring the words out of me, writing that other note. Hopefully, it wasn’t too tragic. I meant the letter, but I guess that could be said about my death too. It’s been five years though, so perhaps I’ve grown to be more sentimental. In fact, I was inspired to write this by both you and our officer. You’re the most sentimental person I know, and she’s been writing letters to Soldier Baek. It looked like fun, so I decided to do it. I don’t know when you’ll read this—if you’ll die before I do (that would be a bummer because this entire letter would go to waste). But I’m currently writing this on the first day of Circa Citrine. Has it been long?

And how did I die? I’ve always wondered about that, Yoongi. As I’m writing this letter now, I’m laughing because, though I’m currently alive (obviously), by the time you’re reading this, I won’t be. I’ve always had a lot of questions about death. Would I meet Minhee in the afterlife? Would she remember me? Would I remember her? Is there even an afterlife? I’d be able to answer these questions by now, but it’s a pity that I won’t be able to share them with you.

There are a few reasons that I’m writing this letter, and one of them is to give you a friendly reminder that I deserve to be buried next to Minhee. I tell you this every Circa Citrine, around the time of her death, so you better not forget.

Another thing: I know I’m dead and my opinion doesn’t matter anymore, but I’m sure we both agree that Ki Suhyun should take my place (unless she’s dead, then it’s really up to you to decide). I won’t talk about my preferences for the other promotions—I want you to decide that with Lieutenant Ki (has a nice ring to it). We’ve been working together for years, Yoongi—eight to be exact (or it could be more if we both survive another year). It’s time that you get used to a new right-hand officer. (And no, I don’t mean Y/N.) Don’t give Suhyun the cold shoulder. She’s too shy to confront you, and I want you two to be friends. Like us. We lasted so long, didn’t we? It was because of trust, Yoongi. So learn to trust a new person. It shouldn’t be that hard. You’ve already given your full trust in Y/N, haven’t you?

Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. That is my advice. I might have more to say later, and I’ll add them as the years go by. As of now, I need to

The letter had ended just like that. Unfinished. 

She probably expected she was going to live longer. The letter is fairly new after all—barely a circa old. 

Yoongi shakes his head. Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. It’s good advice. Not that he’ll follow it anytime soon. It’s by habit, that he’s so self-critical. And it’s a good habit to have when you’re a leader. Because if everyone else is too scared to keep him in check, he’ll do it himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

Your voice fills his head. It’s soft, mellow, light like the morning breeze.

“You’ve known her since you were young. And so much has happened… With you acquiring a new lieutenant, a new captain… When will you ever get rest?”

He turns to you, cocking his head. “This is my rest.”

You frown. There are still tear stains on your cheeks. “Mourning is your rest?”

“No,” he replies. He’s not sure why he says his next words. Maybe because he thinks you won’t remember. Maybe because you confessed you feel empty inside, and maybe that means that you have less of a chance of reacting. “Being with you is my rest.”

You pause.

Yoongi holds his breath.

“Is it?”

You’re so close to each other that he can feel your body heat. That you can feel your arm graze his. 

“I miss her,” you whisper. 

Then, you do something that he doesn’t expect—that he would’ve never expected in a million years. You lean on him. Rest your head on his shoulder.

He freezes.

You act as if it is nothing as you stare off at Doyun’s grave with a wistful look on your face. There are still tears welling in your eyes, tears that will fall any second now. Yoongi shifts closer so that you can lean comfortably. And he lets you cry, lets your tears wet his uniform. The first winter snow rains all over the two of you. The evening air is chilly, and it bites at your noses, pokes at your thick clothes.

But Yoongi has never felt so warm.

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: i am so sorry 💀

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#jungkook fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #bts fanfiction #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btsgoldnet #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #houseofddaeng #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts angst #magic au #war au #bts series #bts fics #legends of darlaria #lod

[barbiewritesstuff]

Hii! I wanted to say I loveee your writing and wanted to see if you would do an iceman fix?? There’s not enough for him and I’m dying for an enemies to lovers with him. Hope you have a wonderful week!!💕💕

Civil

-- I am combining two requests with this one. One smut request from @justabeinga and the request I am replying to here. I thought these two requests went well together.

Trigger warning: NSFW! P in v sex, gendered language, unprotected sex. This is a little CNC so be careful -- 

Iceman made you nervous, especially in the air, with his air of calculated perfection. 

He noticed every mistake, every hesitation and every uncertain move you made and he liked to rub it in your face. It pissed you off to no end, especially since you were almost certain he was the reason for it anyway. 

Not in a romantic sense, obviously. 

But the way his cold blue eyes bore into your skull and he never seemed to blink when he stared made you jittery. You couldn’t see it in the air, but you could imagine it, and on most days that alone could make you stall the damn plane. 

He was making you nervous now too. You could feel him staring at you from across the bar and when you looked, you found you were right. The girl next to him was trying her hardest to get his attention but he didn’t seem to care. You couldn’t figure out why. She was beautiful, a princess Diana type of eternal beauty that should have been Ice’s exact type. She was exactly who men like Tom Kazansky, with their chiselled chests, toned muscles and beautiful faces would go for, so why on earth was he staring at you?

You caught yourself by surprise, ‘chiselled chests, toned muscles and beautiful faces’, what the Hell was wrong with you? 

Trying to get out from under his gaze and away from the room which had inexplicably grown a few degrees hotter in the previous minute, you left for the bathroom.

“You should have taken a picture, it would’ve lasted longer” Ice said, entering the women’s bathroom of the O about ten seconds after you. The door hit the frame with a loud noise and you silently prayed whomever needed the bathroom next wouldn’t come in. 

“Excuse me? I am not the person staring creepily at women across a crowded bar”

“Oh please, you enjoyed the attention”

“Jesus Christ” You breathed out “You know what, I might have, if that person wasn’t you”

“Uh huh, sure” He pressed you against the wall “And if I touch you I won’t find you soaking wet for me, huh?” 

Ice moved one of his hands to touch the hem of your skirt

“Get off of me you creep” You said, pushing him back and then pushing past him to get out of the bathroom. 

The encounter had left you out of breath and shaking. You walked to your car, trying desperately to convince yourself that your feelings were because of the blatant violation of personal space you had endured and not because of the burning pit of desire that had opened itself in your stomach. 

You drove back to base and briskly walked back to your room where you had every intention to take care of yourself and never speak to Iceman again, but Tom Kazansky had other plans. 

Ten minutes after you arrived, someone knocked on your door. 

Iceman stood in front of you, his sunglasses tucked into his shirt and his usually perfect hair ruffled from running his hand through it. 

Even though you hadn’t invited him in, he walked past the threshold until he stood just inches away from you. 

“Look, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t fucking certain you wanted the same thing”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely, Ice, everything I am telling you is pointing towards the fact that I want to fuck you. You are so right” You said “Are you even listening when I say no, or do you just not understand that word?”

“I hear what you’re saying, but I also have eyes, baby. And your body is pointing towards the opposite of what you’re telling me”

He held you to the wall again, this time pinning you while his mouth kissed your neck. Your breath hitched and you hated yourself for it when he smiled against your skin. 

“See?” He breathed against your skin. You suppressed a whimper. His hands hiked up your shirt but barely grazed your skin. The barely-there touches were making your mind work a mile a minute and your core scream with arousal. You wanted nothing more than to have sex with him, but you could not bring yourself to admit it. Whether that was to yourself or to him you didn’t know.

    Iceman eventually removed your shirt and you let him. You also let him trail kisses down your chest, half aware that you were in full view of the open door which he had apparently forgotten to close.

“Not going to undress me, princess?” He chuckled against your skin and when you didn’t answer he let go of you to remove his own shirt. 

You should move, you told yourself. He was no longer pinning you against the wall, you were free. You should move. But you didn’t. You looked at his bare chest and the glistening dog tags and you mustered up the strength not to drop down to your knees and unbuckle his belt. 

“Are you going to let me do all the work?” He asked, one eyebrow raised in an amused kind of way. 

You hated Ice. You despised him. 

You hated how he seemed capable of reading you like an open book. Because you knew he could see every little hint of arousal your traitor of a body was dropping. You could see it in his eyes. His gorgeous, piercing blue eyes. You gazed into them for just a fraction of a second but it was all the time needed for your brain to wonder what it would feel like to look into them as you came. 

You hated Ice for this thought alone.

“You want this more than me.” You lied, doing your best to lace your voice in poison. He laughed. Iceman pinned you against the wall once more to trail more kisses down your neck and chest. One of his hands moved below your skirt. He traced your aching core with two of his fingers and moaned at the feel of your lace panties. His hips bucked towards you. You prayed he wouldn’t notice how soaked they were, and he didn’t, at least for now. 

He regained control of himself and backed away a little.

“Are you sure you want this?” He whispered “I can stop”

He sounded concerned, gentle even. You needed him to never speak to you like that because you feared you might start to like him if he did so again. 

“Fuck off” You spat out, pulling him close and crashing your lips into his. He moved you to the bed. It was a terrible queen sized mattress with broken springs, but the uncomfortableness of your sleeping quarters was quickly forgotten when Ice dropped his trousers and ripped off your underwear. He was big and girthy and you couldn’t wait to have him inside. 

He rubbed himself against you for a few strokes. Groaning with each one. 

“You’re so wet for me,” He said.

You hated Ice for reminding you of what he was doing to you. 

He slipped himself inside you with almost no resistance from your aching core. You stretched to accommodate him and he paused to let you adjust. You were desperate for him to move. You were desperate for him to take what he wanted and go, as every little kindness made your heart soften towards him. 

He dropped down to his elbows. Finally he moved. 

He rolled his hips into yours. He was almost laying on you and the weight and warmth of his body paired with the heavenly feeling inside you was steadily moving you towards orgasm. You wouldn’t admit it, though. You stifled every moan, mewl and groan that threatened to pass through your lips. Ice was getting frustrated by your defiance, and tried to elicit a response from you by thrusting faster and harder into you. You were getting close. Your eyes could almost see stars and the knot in your core was beginning to unravel. You looked away from his piercing blue eyes. 

“Let me see those eyes” He growled “Look at me” 

You avoided his eyes, turning your head away from his. His hand moved to hold your jaw and turn your head so you had no choice but to gaze into his eyes. In an effort to hide how you felt about his thrusting against your sweet spot, you glared at him. He tapped your jaw a little in a gentle slap and tutted. 

“Don’t be a fucking bitch, Y/n. You know I make you feel good, the least you could do is thank me”

That statement elicited a shocked little laugh out of you. Ice moved away from you a little

“Come for me!” He shouted in frustration. The sound of his shout made you lose all the control you held over yourself and you felt your orgasm wash over you. Tom released a shaky breath as you tightened around him but he could barely suppress a groan when your legs shook a little and he saw your eyes roll back into your head. 

Almost remembering who he was, he grabbed your jaw again.

“I want you to look me in the eyes and thank me for making you feel good”

The way he was fucking you through your orgasm, and already setting you up to hurtle towards your next one, was making it impossible for you to think. 

“Thank you” You mumbled, looking at him with glazed over eyes and a fucked-out look that almost made him come then and there.

“Do it properly” He demanded

“Thank you for making me feel good, Tom” You said. It sent a shiver of arousal straight to your core and your body broke out in goosebumps.

“You like that, baby? You like thanking me for fucking you?”

You hummed 

“Do it again and I might make you come a second time, Baby”

“Thank you, Tom. Thank you for making me feel so good” 

You felt yourself tighten again but you kept your orgasm at bay. Not out of defiance this time, any pride or self-respect having flown out of the window the second he had shouted at you and you had come the first time, but because his thrusts were becoming more erratic and you knew it was close.

“Where?” He asked, a second too late as you came and he followed right behind. Tom let out a pornographic moan as he released himself inside you and all but collapsed on top of you on the bed. Eventually, he found the energy to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed. 

“I think” You tried to talk “I think I don’t hate you as much”

He laughed

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing” Ice said

“I still think you’re a prick though”

“Maybe we should go again until we can be civil” 

He waited for your response but you paused to catch your breath

“Let’s do that” You eventually agreed

#iceman #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #top gun fanfiction #fanfic #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #request #iceman x reader

[wonderfulpileofdust]

What is man? By Beniamin Kis

Who am I?

No, this is not the Linux terminal command which tells the user, his/her username. (That’s spelled “whoami”). But it’s a question which we have to answer to ourselves sooner or later. Rather sooner than later.

All my life I liked to think of myself as an emotionally stable, always positive, always optimistic individual, who doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions or thoughts about him. I have never experienced depression, or excessive sadness, or dark thoughts, or loneliness… That is, until a few months ago, when the love of my life (or so I thought) has decided that after 11 years of being together and married for 5 years, it was time to move on. To what? I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t know either.

So how did this happen? How did the love transform into hatred and bitterness? How did we get so lost from each other, that we could not find the way back?

Well, it’s simple: when you take out God from a relationship, it almost always falls apart. Our story, although it started beautiful, has ended crashing and burning, because we were not watching. Jesus says to his disciples: “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Oh, how right was He!

We started our relationship well, with prayer and Bible study, meaningful discussions (we’ve met on a christian forum, for cryin’ out loud). It was one of the things which attracted me about her, that she seemed to be so close to God, and had such an amazing knowledge of the Bible and other books, that I felt almost stupid around her.

Somewhere, along the way, we have shifted the focus of our relationship to a more… earthlyperspective, thus opening the door to temptation and sin.

I got addicted to video games, she got addicted to social media and movies, we stopped praying together, we stopped having a healthy spiritual life, she cut off all her relationships with people from the church, got involved in toxic relationships, I started being angry all the time and pouring out all my frustrations to her, often shouting and using an inadequate tone. The presence of God was slowly replaced with anger, lies, absence of communication, resentment and, in the end, with hatred. The love, which was supposed to unite us and keep us together, you know, the one from 1 Corinthians 13, was transformed to resentment and repulsion and set lightyears of distance between us.

So, one day, she told me: “I’m leaving…”

I said: “Where?”

“I don’t know” she said.. “away…”

That was the moment I knew she was not coming back. A few months later we sat in the notary’s office, signing the divorce papers.

Inevitably, questions started to flood my mind, I started to doubt myself, my identity, which led me to these questions: Who am I, really? What did I accomplish in almost 30 years of my life? Am I still the same person she married? What’s my purpose? What is the purpose of life, in general? Where did I do wrong? Why did this happen to me? Why can’t I be happy like others of my age? Why did I miss the signs? Why couldn’t we repair things? Why did it end this way? Here I am, 30 and divorced, who’s gonna even look at me?

…and soooo many other questions. Most of them unanswered.

But returning to one question: who am I? I have found my answer. And it’s written in God’s holy Word:

- “I will give thanks and praise to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.” [Ps. 139:14]

- “for dust you are and to dust you will return.” [Gen. 3:19]

I am a wonderful pile of dust, which means I am precious in the eyes of God, so precious that He won’t allow me to live on this earth filled with selfishness, materialism, pride, abuse, disobedience, ungratefulness, unholiness, hatred, unforgivingness, slander, lack of self-control, violence, betrayal, rashness, hedonism, duplicity, in this daily-degrading body, forever. He has promised me that He’ll go and prepare a place for me:

- “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” [John 14:1-3]

So, every time I forget who I am in Christ, I’d always return to these Scripture references:

- I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ unto good works. (Ephesians 2:10)

- I am an ambassador for Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:20)

- I am part of a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people. (1 Peter 2:9)

- I am greatly loved by God. (Romans 1:7; Ephesians 2:4; Colossians 3:12; 1 Thessalonians 1:4)

- I am born of God, and the evil one does not touch me. (1 John 5:18)

- I am complete in Him Who is the Head of all principality and power. (Colossians 2:10)

Ending this blogpost with a song, dear to my heart:

“Who the Son sets free Oh is free indeed I’m a child of God Yes I am In my Father’s house There’s a place for me I’m a child of God Yes I am

I am chosen Not forsaken I am who You say I am You are for me Not against me I am who You say I am”

(Youtube Link to the song)

That’s who I am, a child of the almighty God, King of heaven and earth, who gives life and made all things out of nothing!

I have no more doubts, as a christian who has accepted His sacrifice and declared with my lips that I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, who has died for my sins and saved me from eternal death, and neither should you, if you did all these things.

#who am i #whoami #testimony #i am a child of god #child of god #who you say I am #beniamin kis