#still gets in peoples heads even as a ghost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sentientcave · 7 hours

Text

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

<< First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don’t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #This chapter was so hard to write so I'm sorry if it's not as good #but the good news is that the next chapter is already finished! So I'll post it tomorrow #John you are so awful I hate you what is wrong with you #Also: I have like 4k of two lil Nitro fics because she captured my heart so we have that to look forward to as well #Anyway enjoy!#Retirement Party #Retirement Party Chapter 3 #Initially forgot a readmore lmao

73 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 7 hours

Text

Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

______________________________________________________________

When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?) Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Anya stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Then maybe you should have your people reschedule them. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track. This wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "O Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of place since he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always bet us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for Anya, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her slender frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter with a swatting motion.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The butterfly one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that," Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to understand the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #senna!reader #ayrton senna #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

85 notes · View notes

houseofevanbuckley · 2 days

Note

I just have this head canon that one night while he and Tommy are just sleeping, Buck has this awful nightmare where he relives Eddie getting shot. Tommy is jarred away by Buck scrambling out of bet and rushing to the bathroom to wash his face in his confusion. It's a terrifying thing but once Tommy has Buck back in bed and Buck tearfully tells him what the dream was about, he's so understanding and amazing he actually bundles Buck up and they go to their Diaz boys together, no jealous or insecurity, just the five of them being their for each other like a whole ass family

This ! All of this !

I wish my baby wasn’t hurt that way but it is part of him now. It wouldn’t be his first nightmare while he sleeps with Tommy, but it’s the first one that’s strong enough that he can’t hide it. Waking up gasping for hair, his arm scratching at his chest trying to claw at his lungs to make them work! To make them do their job. The darkness of the room closing on him while his lungs are.still.not.working!

And then light appear and Tommy’s arms get around him, pulling him agasint his chest. He put his own hand on Buck’s chest, rubbing on it while he talks in his ear. Just repeating numbers again and again, getting Buck to focus on him. “ In, 1 2,3,4… Out 5,6,7,8,9… In,12,3,4”

It takes a while but he finally can get a breath in, making the stars that were starting to appear over his vision recede.

They stay silent for a while, tremors still running over Buck’s body, being replaced by Tommy hands rubbing along his arms, his chest.

Tommy doesn’t want to push Buck so he waits for him for a minute, and then two, and three.

Until he feels water on the arm rubbing Buck’s chest.

“Baby…” he says, pain in his voice at seeing his boyfriend like that.

He pulls him more agasint his own body, his chest covering the entirety of Buck’s back like a shield, and Buck breaks.

His breath stutters but the panic doesn’t come back. He talks then. He talks about that boy they saved. About how proud and happy Eddie was when they left his house. He was right. He saved that boy. And then the bullet. The blood. The hiding under a car. The dragging. And the wait. The wait for help, the time running away as they struggled to get away. To get to the real help, to the hospital.

And more wait.

Tears are flowing freely as he talks about it. Telling Christopher. Waiting again.

And Tommy gets it. He was in the military. He gets seeing his people shot, the one that are here to support you, to help you. Brothers and sisters. His heart break for his boy. His sweet boy who just want to save the world, to protect the ones he loves and even the ones he doesn’t.

He should have never been in this situation, none of them should have.

He takes a decision then. He may not be able to bring his own ghost back, but Buck doesn’t have these. His people are here, and they’re ready to support him.

He stands up when Buck finally calm down enough that he feel he can leave him for a few second.

He goes doesnstairs to get some water and grab his phone on the counter, sending a quick text to Eddie. Not saying too much, he knows Buck would rather run away than talks about his nightmare, but he says enough.

He goes up to Buck’s room, with some room temperature water, something that wouldn’t attack his throat or his body with some temperature chock.

He has him drink two glasses before he put the bottle on the bedside table and tells him to stand up while he grabs Buck’s comfy hoodie on his dresser and a sweatpants.

“Wha-what?” bucks asks, bewildered by clothes being thrown his way.

Tommy who comes back in front of him and kiss his birthmark

“Trust me, baby”

And Buck does. He does completely.

It takes them ten minutes to get fully ready. Tommy heard his phone buzz downstairs and when they go down he sees the answer he expected.

“Come on, baby” he says grabbing his boyfriend hand and gently pulling him outside and to his care.

“Where are we going ?”

“Where you need to be”

It takes them less than 20 minutes to reach the Diaz house, at 4 am the traffic is quiet all over town and Buck has recognized the way they were taking half way through their trip

“Tommy…”

“It’s ok baby,” he says, putting his hand on Buck’s thighs the rest of the way.

When they reach the house, Eddie is waiting at the door, hair in every direction, tank top and sweatpants on.

He welcomes them with a hug each, lingering in Buck’s when he feels how Buck sags against him and Tommy just watches with a soft smile and a grateful nod when Eddie looks his way.

They make their way inside and Christopher is sitting at the table, ice cream boxes open in front of him with some bowls, a documentary is playing on low volume on the tv and the boy smile at Buck, his own hair reflecting his dad’s.

“Guys,” whispers Buck, awed that anyone would do that. That they’d wake up for him, be there for him. He turns back to Tommy who took him there, kissing him on the lips softly.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes shining.

“Come on baby,” says Tommy, guiding him to the table, “gotta be quick before Christopher steals all the chocolate mint.”

They stay there the rest for he night and well into the day. Being there for Buck this night, like they’d be there for the others on an other night. Like a family should

#anon games #anon ask #the Buck-Diaz family is so dear to me and adding Tommy to it makes it only stronger #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #tevan #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #evan buck buckley #buck and tommy #evan x tommy #tommybuck #kinley #don’t mind the typos #it’s 7am and my brain is still mush

62 notes · View notes

celenawrites · 3 days

Text

— a soft life: unofficial prologue

Summary -

Retired and domesticated, Johnny and Simon look forward to the next step in their life as a couple - parenthood. However, initiating this process turns out to be a lot trickier than usual.

And then enters you, a tired grad student who is desperate and willing to be their surrogate for some much needed cash. Needless to say, they find themselves orbiting you - like planets to the burning sun.

Warnings - A/B/O dynamics, Metaphorical ramblings of 'killing' parts of one's personality, reader is implied to be an immigrant and POC so expect topics of misogyny, sexism and threats of forceful marriage/parenthood to pop up in later chapters, Unbeta'd and unedited contents so mistakes are inevitable, etc.

Word count - 1, 128.

series masterlist || read on ao3

Your eyes burn.

The black cursor blinks against the empty white expanse of your Word document, taunting you and your incapability to muster up anything to write for your thesis. You shut down your laptop after staring at the blank document file for what seems like hours, barely mustering up the concentration needed to finally name the topic of your research thesis.

You lean back against the black ergonomic chair and it creaks under your weight, and you can feel the way your back cracks as you stretch your arms over your head. You take off your glasses, and then let your palms rub at your aching eyes as you contemplate what more you could do to distract yourself from your imminent doom.

Between your laptop and piles of printed papers, textbooks and notes lies an opened manila envelope that has delivered devastating news to you at a crucial point of your life.

The education system is unfair in many ways, and going into academia and research is definitely not going to be a walk in the park for you. But your passion for the subject had you undeterred - leaping at the first chance of pursuing your postgraduate degree from one of the most prestigious universities in all of the United Kingdom. And yet, the printed letter you had received last week is threatening your dream and you do not know if there is any way for you to salvage it.

You have rapidly applied for financial aid, scholarships, internships and even odd jobs - but most of the potential employers have either ghosted you or put your name on a never-ending waitlist. You cannot wait till next year to know if they would hire you for minimum wage, damn it.

By the time they reach out to you, you might already be well on your way back home. And you do not want to go back home.

A few tears of frustration bubble up in your eyes, leaving hot tear tracts on your skin as you try to wipe them away. You need a break. God knows when was the last time you had slept.

At moments like these, when life was too much and the stress made the idea of death all the more inviting to you, your inner voice - your Omega, someone you have suppressed and killed with your own violent hands, would resurface into your life like a phantom and she would haunt you with incredulous ideas and sweet impossibilities. Need someone, need Alpha, she would whisper to you all sultry, Wanna be taken care of. Too much, too much, too much-

And you would bury her remains again.

You cannot be soft. You cannot be kind. You cannot let people know you care.

It would only get you killed. Or worse.

You get up to leave the room on shaky legs and your knees buckle after staying so still for hours on end. You enter the small kitchen, put the kettle filled with water on the stove and turn it up to high heat as you lean against the island and rub your hands over your languished face. You’re so tired. So fucking tired.

The kettle simmers over the fire, letting out a small hiss from its spout. You pay it no heed. You think and think and think of all the possible ways you can salvage this mess of a situation - only to end up with nothing.

The market hasn’t been kind, and you do work as a TA and some freelance work online as an editor to ease your financial worries, but it is not enough.

You can always take up more shifts at the floral shop, but that can also possibly interfere with your academic schedule - which is the last thing you could possibly want. You can always call back home, but the very idea of it fills you with dread and makes your stomach turn and sicken you even more. You could-

The kettle lets out a loud whistle, steam oozing out of it rapidly and the mobile phone in your jeans rings at the same time, startling you into action. You turn and hurriedly turn the stove off, letting the kettle rest on the island as it lets out all the steam stored in the ceramic vessel.

You abandon the pot of leafy concoction, opting to go outside into your living space to finally pick up your ringing phone. You wipe your clammy hands on a hand towel lying nearby before you swipe the green button to pick up the call.

“Hello?” you state your name, “Who is it?”

“Good afternoon, Miss” the feminine voice greets you over the mobile, “This is the Larksky Fertility Clinic”.

Your heart stills.

You read the email the clinic representative had sent you after you got off the call with her.

Alice was her name. Alice sounded like a kind woman.

You read through the attachment files in the mail. The pamphlet outlined the vision and works of the fertility clinic, highlighting their doctors and the various fertility testing and treatments they offered to people and couples alike. The other attachment files consisted of the bare minimum information about the couple that are currently seeking you out in order to conceive.

Mr. Simon Riley and Mr. John Mactavish.

Both are ex-military - one of them is a personal fitness trainer and the other runs a security company. They’re willing to negotiate the price for your ‘assistance’; which is something you’re grateful for, even though you’d have done it for free once upon a time.

While you have always been unsure about parenthood being the right path for you (and your personal aspirations and fears wouldn’t necessarily allow you to indulge in such ideas just yet), you have always wished to help people create the families they deserve. And you believe this call to be some sort of sign, corny as it might sound to some.

Maybe it's divine intervention. Or manifestation. Or some spiritual signal.

You have always been willing to help others out in any way possible - from taking on extra workload and sharing necessities to blood donations and volunteer work. At one point, you had been looking forward to helping people out with completing their families - eager to see them so ecstatic about becoming parents. The idea of doing this for money solely leaves your mouth dry, as if you have swallowed cotton - and yet, yet.

It wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway. Sending out a response through your email, you confirm the time and date of the meeting with the clinic. You console yourself and reason with your heart (or what is left of it anyway) - you need the money, you always wanted to do this, now is a good time anyway.

A/N -

I decided to post this almost scrapped prologue in hopes to motivate myself and to keep on writing some more. Hopefully, I will be able to post more in May. Also, forgive the few grammatical errors in this piece, I haven't been too keen on correcting such errors at the moment. I will eventually clean this up later on. I just wanted to put this out there so that I can work on the later parts of this series.

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap au #tw a/b/o #call of duty angst #cal lof duty fluff #char.simon ghost riley #char.soap #🌸.a soft life #celena.writes

87 notes · View notes

hermitcraftheadcanons · 2 days

Text

Skizzekai- First Few Days Summary

Now that the asks have calmed down a bit, and hermits have been established, here's a summary post to get a general idea of where we're working from. I've also cleaned up any plotholes best I can.

Skizz, a human from Earth, was summoned to this fantasy world by god-king Joel. A prophecy stated he would defeat a great evil. It did not explain how. He keeps a journal to help him figure things out and keep track of everything.

Over his adventures so far, Skizz has made both allies and enemies, and picked up a magical necklace from travelling merchants. His suit also picked up durability enchantments somewhere, but only after the sleeves came off. The necklace was made for mages, gathering and focusing ambient magic for their use. It was not designed for a creature with no magic of their own.

He probably wouldn't have stayed human either way, but the necklace certainly sped it up. He's adapted to the world, become able to use it's magic, and dragonfly wings have begun to sprout from his back.

This could be concerning. But Skizz finds he loves his wings, his adaptation to the world that is gradually becoming his home. He embraces it. Maybe he really does belong here. Maybe soon he'll even be able to fly.

Joel, the ruler of the lore kingdom and recently ascended god, was originally an ogre- but after the belief of his people sent him through a few transformations, he's settled into his divine status. He can look however he wants now! But an ogre form is still most natural to him. Just a really tall and handsome ogre.

Skizz finds quick allies in Tango, Impulse, and Zed. Tango is a being of fire, with strong flame magic connected to his emotions. He is also in possession of a magical deck of cards. Zedaph, apprentice of Death Himself, joined their group after bringing Skizz back from the dead. He insisted on the completion of some difficult tasks first, but now they're buddies! He's also capable of reality distortion magic, knows alchemy, and has a card of luck magic Tango gave him. Everyone is terrified of Zedaph. Probably for good reason.

Impulse.... may not have intended to become an ally. The demonic man used to work for the forces of evil- before Skizz showed up, and his doubts became a true betrayal to join the side of good. They became fast friends. He doesn't want Skizz to become lost like the last hero was.

That last hero is one Gemini Tay, human-turned-Drowned, who was summoned a few years back, and is not happy about Skizz. It's like she's not even needed anymore. She puts a bounty on Skizz's head. She cannot accept her failure.

Chasing that bounty is False, harpy and former pirate queen. She may have had to leave her crew after that deal lead to a mild case of possession, but she still appreciates some good treasure. That's why she's been working as a travelling merchant.

Her fellow merchants, Cub and Scar, are equally possessed but not quite as motivated. They mostly just like messing with people. Including Skizz. Maybe especially Skizz. They are fae, after all.

Skizz did have one unfortunate interaction with them- he got his name taken for a bit. Fortunately, after returning Scar's cat familiar to him, the name was given back.

Gem isn't the only former human in this world. Joe Hills, a half-ghost living in the republic of the undead, was summoned from Nashville a while back, and befriended Prime Minister Cleo along the way.

Cleo's republic was once a kingdom, run by Ren, but as soon as she got the throne she declared the monarchy over. She got voted in, and Ren is her second in command. Together they run the place, maintaining the army of constructs and fighting back against the sculk creeping into the tunnels.

Most humans that end up in this world don't tend to stay human long. The ambient magic eventually soaks in and alters them, and most embrace it. The changes are a new beginning, or a sign of belonging in this strange world. But Hypno did not embrace it.

No, Hypno was the human half of a changeling deal, and has been clinging to his humanity for quite a while. He's even gotten hold of an artifact, somehow, that pushes the ambient magic out of his body, keeping him human. His friend, Jevin, is a slime guy who enjoys being a slime guy, and doesn't understand this drive to stay human one bit. Magic is cool.

Other hermits that I couldn't neatly tie into the one ramble:

Wels is a selkie proficient in bard magic, and a former member of False's crew.

Stress is a fae queen who rules a kingdom specializing in ice magic, with Iskall as her loyal bodyguard.

TFC is a miner of unknown species who helped Skizz out during a quest

Mumbo is not a vampire, thank you very much. He's actually the former god of the night who lost half his power. Vampires were made from that stolen half.

Pearl is a moth fae who used to rule a prosperous kingdom... until a talking dog came to advise her, corrupting her into a cruel and evil queen. She has since slain the beast, fled into exile, and changed her ways. She now works delivering mail.

Etho and Bdubs are plant constructs, guarding a deep and dangerous jungle. Etho may have a metallic shell, but he's all plant inside. Doc and Beef guard the jungle as well, the four of them ensuring safe passage for travellers. Doc in particular has the ability to become absolutely gigantic.

Xisuma was a bubbling puddle of nothing that became a person and sustains itself on bones. Far too many bones. Bones in places they really should not be, such as outside the skin.

Keralis is a unicorn! He is also a menace who is very protective of his magic, refusing to use it unless he feels like it. Claims to be able to read the value of souls. Bothers xB by calling him the princess of the lake. xB is not a princess.

Grian is... something. He's strange, is what he is. He's a nice guy, and helpful to Skizz, but has these weird mutterings about "watchers", and what was that about accidentally stealing Mumbo's power?

And that's the AU so far! It's still going, so send in more ideas when you have them. Happy headcanoning!

#skizzekai au #not a headcanon #mod mleem

50 notes · View notes

mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 2 days

Text

Lost, never found

Wei Wuxian ends up in Ghost City after he dies. Somebody is looking for him.

Loosely inspired by this official art

Wei Wuxian had not expected that death would lead him to the gates of a city. In all honesty, he had not expected to even retain his consciousness after the manner in which he had died and the way his soul had been pulled apart from his body – but here he was, standing at the entrance of a vibrant settlement, teeming with all sorts of unusual inhabitants.

Be they headless ghosts, half-animal ghouls, demons or monsters, the crowd past the gates was decidedly not human – but Wei Wuxian wasn’t either, not anymore, but his status as a ghost was still new to him, though not much different from when he was alive. If anything, other than the fact that his body was no longer in constant pain and ghosts weren’t screaming in his head, he felt quite normal.

As normal as one could feel as a spirit.

He stepped past the ornate gate into the city, and felt himself overcome with sights, smells and sounds, the place lively as it could be. Laughter, wailing, fighting, music, conversation – everything blended together into a low hum, all sorts of stalls and buildings lining the streets and people animatedly walking around. It was a peculiar place, all sorts of creatures selling all sorts of things, from food to trinkets and even body parts, ghosts walking about the markets, in and out of buildings, everyone blending into the large crowd.

It felt almost overwhelming – but more than that, it was nostalgic. It reminded Wei Wuxian of Lotus Pier, before everything happened – the hustle and bustle, the merchants, the games, the street food and the energy of a restless crowd.

It reminded him of Yiling, of the camaraderie between poor merchants and the way they traded customers, of the jokes and the laughter between stalls, of trying to get discounts and make a living in a place for the dead.

“You seem lost.” A smooth, confident voice came, covering the buzz of the crowd in a way that told Wei Wuxian it was meant for him.

“I…I am.” He replied, turning towards the source of the voice. A man in ornate, red robes and countless silver ornaments greeted him with a placid smile, one of his eyes covered with a black eyepatch. Wei Wuxian’s eyes caught onto the pearl shining at the end of the single braid in his dark hair, a detail he felt was not at all unintentional.

Wei Wuxian may not have known who this man was, but he could tell that he was powerful, dangerous. For a moment, he felt intimidated, missing the weight of his flute at his waist.

But, Wei Wuxian reasoned with himself, he was already dead, what was the worst that could happen to him now?

“Somebody has been looking for you.” The man continued, “Would you like to see them?”

“Nobody wants to see me.” Wei Wuxian replied, almost on instinct. After all, anybody wanting to summon his soul would for sure only be looking to disperse him, so it would be best to avoid them. He had known that he would not be allowed to rest in peace even if he died – the disdain the cultivation world held for him was boundless, especially as he destroyed half the Stygian Tiger Amulet. He had taken all that power in death with him, and likely ruined many plans with that.

The man insisted. “It is not easy for the living to reach this place. Are you certain you do not want to see the person seeking you?”

Wei Wuxian paused at that. The living… who could possibly be going through the trouble to reach this place for him? He could not think of anybody that would – at least not without malevolent intentions. The only one that came to mind was Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian knew if it was him, he had come to settle the score once and for all. To seek revenge, perhaps, and kill him like he had planned to. After all, Wei Wuxian died on his own terms, gruesome as they had been – he was certain Jiang Cheng would have liked to kill him personally.

“No.” Wei Wuxian replied, at last. “Tell them I am not here.”

Hua Cheng walked outside the gate of Ghost City, his expression unchanged as he looked towards the white-clad man in front of him. His expression, sunken, regretful, had lit up slightly upon seeing Hua Cheng, a glimmer of hope in his dulled honeyed eyes.

“He is not here.” Hua Cheng said, his voice almost sterile as the lie flowed out of him with ease.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened for a moment, in disbelief, lips parted to say something though no words came out.

“The dead are elusive. You will not find him if he does not want to be found.”

The hope in Lan Wangji’s eyes dimmed as soon as it had appeared. He bowed deeply in thanks and left without a word, unable to speak. Hua Cheng did not hold it against him.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #writing attempts

36 notes · View notes

mikaela-the-slut-expert · 13 hours

Note

hii lovely <3 it’s so good to see you again, i’m glad you’re back and i hope you’re taking good care of yourself. after reading sunshine headcanons 3, where Xie Lian would be the one to spank reader if necessary, it got me thinking, what if lil sunshine reader wanted to get some spicy tips and learned from somewhere to try and be a bit of a brat in bed 👀 ofc that doesn’t end well with his lovers and he gets the spanking and fucking of his life (with love ofc)

Sunshine Part 4

HuaLian x M!reader

It's long guys I hope it's good 🙏🥹

Spanking, edging, bondage, slapping, blowjobs, fingering, handjobs, improper use of Rou'ye, NSFW!!!

After being with Xie Lian and San Lang for so long, you want to try new things! After the recent breakage of vanilla boundaries in the bedroom you want to try something different. . . You're always so well behaved and you're always kind but you kind of wanted to try not doing that. Maybe it was a part of you that wanted to see your lovers be rough with you or maybe it was a part of you that deeply desired to show your lovers a side of yourself no one else gets to see.

The problem is you don't know how! Anytime you even think about trying to be bratty you can't do it. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng are just sweet to you and their praise and treatment make you want to be willing and behaved for them. Sooo you need somebody's help!

You find help through books, and people. You read many, many books and then you ask around ghost city and your good ghost gals if they can teach you some tips and tricks. Which they do of course. Who are they to deny you a fun sex life? So for a while you honestly practice by yourself to be bratty. You don't want to set your plan out and go back on it as soon as your lovers smile at you after all. When you finally think you've got it down your plan is set!

It's nearly night time and your lovers were out on a mission. You usually stay home at your lovers insistence. Soo when it's time for them to nearly be home you decide to start without them. You were never one to be active without your lovers but you wanted to do it tonight. Even though you're alone, you still blush in embarrassment when you spread your legs . You spend some time stroking your cock and fucking yourself with your fingers.

When Xie Lian and Hua Cheng come home, you don't even notice. When they walk into the shared bedroom, you cum at the same time they open the door. You throw your head back and arch against your fingers with a shrill moan. You weren't expecting a hand to clench around your wrist and wrench it away from between your legs. It's Hua Cheng who does this. He slips into bed and pins you down with a kiss to your forehead.

"We were expecting you to wait for us before we got home. Did you get lonely" Hua Cheng purrs in your ear and you bite your lip to hide a whine. He kisses your cheek

"No...", you swallow and glance at Hua Cheng, "I got impatient waiting. You took too long". You huff and look to the side with an angry pout. You squirm out of under Hua Cheng and slip your robes back on. "Anyways, how did your miss-". You get yanked back into bed by Hua Cheng.

"Oh don't be like that Baobei. We didn't mean to make you wait" he kisses the nape of your neck and loosens your robes. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. Xie Lian comes closer and slides gentle hand between your legs to spread them. Usually you would allow this and let them put you in whatever position they want, but not tonight. You blush but snap your legs shut. "I don't wanna." You huff again with an attitude.

Xie Lian hums and tilts your chin up with a nudge. "Do you really not want to?" If one of you doesn't want to have sex usually it's just a no and cuddling instead. However you've got an attitude. Xie Lian's never seen you with one before in bed though. "Or. . . Are you just being a brat?" He hums and his hand holds your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

You blush softly and take his thumb into your mouth before nipping on it. Hard. A slap resounds through the room. Your head snaps to the side and Hua Cheng looks up in surprise. His one eye darting over you and Xie Lian in shock. "Gege!" Hua Cheng cups your face and looks at the red mark left from Xie Lian but he's surprised to find a blush covering your face and a hardness growing between your legs.

Xie Lian slides Hua Cheng's hand away. "It's fine San Lang, he wants this. Right, Y/n? You want to be punished for being a brat, yes?"

You breathe out a shaky breath, "Y-yes". A moment of silence, a chance for Hua Cheng to back out. Hua Cheng nods and goes back to holding you in his lap. Your back to his chest "Well alright" he kisses your shoulder and takes your robes off, allowing them to fall to the floor. Xie Lian smiles and grips your face again. "Good." The scene continues.

You're a little embarrassed, they always embarrass you by forcing your legs open to show off your pretty dick. You blush darkly when Xie Lian gets on his knees in front of you and starts licking at. "Stay still for me Baobei, and maybe I'll let San Lang reward you." He purrs softly and kisses your tip. Still? You could most certainly try, but you're sort of aiming for punishment here.

So when Xie Lian takes you into his mouth, trying to ease you in, you grab his hair roughly and just your hips forward. This causes him to gag and pull off of you, while Hua Cheng takes more caution in holding you down. That kind of felt good treating Xie Lian like that. Hm maybe another time.

Xie Lian coughs and wipes his mouth. There's a tick on his brow and you know he's annoyed. "I thought you were going to be good, that was my mistake" he huffs and stands from the floor. Honestly Hua Cheng was a little worried for you, he holds into you tightly allowing your legs to close. He's not supposed to let you get away with it, but he's biased. Xie Lian reaches behind you and cups Hua Cheng's face. "San Lang", Xie Lian whispers, and leans down to kiss Hua Cheng's forehead, "Move".

Hua Cheng blushes and moves away almost immediately. It's a tone he hasn't heard in a long time. Xie Lian seems to let Hua Cheng's mistake slide but not yours. He fists a hand in your hair and pushes you belly down against the bed. You yelp softly and even try to squirm and 'fight' him back.

All of it is half assed attempts to get away and Xie Lian knows it so with a snap of he fingers Rou'ye shoots out and wraps around your limbs and body keep you stomach down against the bed but ass perked and legs spread. You scrunch your face when you feel the lithe bandage wrap around the base of your cock. That is not what you wanted.

You were expecting to be thrown around a little maybe hit but edging? Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. You whine loudly trying to squirm against Rou'ye and you curse the bandage in your head. Your thoughts are interrupted by a swat to your ass. "Ah! W-what was that for?" You pout, turning your head to look at Xie Lian but Rou'ye wraps around your throat and forces your head back straight.

"Did you think I was just going to leave you wrapped up in the bed for nothing" Xie Lian laughs softly and settles down behind you. He runs his fingers over the plush of your ass and then over your hole. "I imagined you wanted more than that?" He hums. He brings his hand down again, harder this time, but controlled.

Your breath hitches and you whine. "W-well yes but I want to be able to-" cum. But Xie Lian doesn't let you finish your sentence because he spanks you again.

"You think you deserve to after your blatant show of disrespect?" He smiles behind you. "Don't talk, just count for me. You're on three".

Xie Lian spanks you once more. "Mm! F-four" it's embarrassing. To count for Xie Lian's and being forced to look at Hua Cheng while you do it. You get to a steady rhythm and after about ten or eleven- wait which number were you on? You got distracted. Without noticing you had gotten comfortable and fell further into a sub space you hadn't even realized you were trying to rut against the bed. Shit. A harsh swat makes you pay attention again. Your ass stings.

"Y/n number?", Xie Lian hum in question and his fingers rub where he had just spanked you. He's kind of liking how red you're getting, and your cock that's wrapped? The bits of precum desperately leaking from it, he enjoys that too.

You bite your lip and groan softly. "U-uhm I, uh t-twelve?" There's a pause of silence leaving you to become nervous about your answer, then Xie Lian's hand comes down on your thigh, maybe he got bored of hitting just your ass. "That's wrong Baobei, and you had been doing so well too." Xie Lian clicks his tongue and stands up from the bed.

Your body shakes softly and you whine. You were doing fine! You just want to cum. You've been focusing on that for the better part of an hour now. "I didn't m-mean to, please A-Lian." You whimper, pulling against Rou'ye but he's much too strong. Xie Lian rubs a hand through your hair and shushes you. "You'll get something Y/n calm down."

Your mouth literally salivates when Hua Cheng settles in the bed in front of you and you see his cock out and hard. "Please, please, please A-Lang" you whine loudly but Hua Cheng takes mercy on you and scoots closer so that your head can rest on his lap. You however have different ideas and you greedily take his cock down your throat. "Mmh~". You moan around his dick and take him down to the hilt. Hua Cheng trained you how to do that after all. When you try to move up a hand pushes you back down, making you choke on Hua Cheng's cock.

You were expecting it to be Hua Cheng but it was Xie Lian. "Keep him here San Lang." You let out a loud whine when Xie Lian kisses Hua Cheng's cheek. Xie Lian only smiles at you and goes back to sit behind you, leaving you between them both. You take a sharp breath through your nose when, Xie Lian shoves his fingers into your hole and immediately goes to rub at your prostate.

The sting hurts but it feels delicious to you. You moan and slobber around Hua Cheng, and try to roll your hips, but it's hard when Rou'ye has you trapped. Xie Lian laughs softly and bullies your prostate with his fingers, his other hand wraps around your dick and his thumb teases your slit.

You didn't realize you were crying until Hua Cheng is wiping your tears and your snuffling around Hua Cheng's cock desperately sucking air through your nose. Distantly you hear Hua Cheng ask Xie Lian to let you cum and you whine.

Xie Lian smiles and places a kiss on the back of your thigh. "Hm he has been good. . ." Xie Lian juts his fingers into your prostate at the same time that Rou'ye unwraps from your body. Hua Cheng gets to watch your eyes roll back and you choke around his cock when you cum. Your seed covers your tummy and the bed.

Hua Cheng pulls you off of him and lets you rest in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair while Xie Lian moves away to go grab a warm cloth. You're half asleep by the time Xie Lian has washed you off and all of you are cuddled in bed.

"Y/n did you like it?" Xie Lian blushes and kisses your head. "I hope I didn't treat you too roughly?"

You giggle and smile kissing Xie Lian's cheek. "I enjoyed all of it" you hum softly and cuddle close to both of your lovers.

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #tgcf hualian #tgcf x male reader

31 notes · View notes

myneodream · 1 day

Text

So, it's the first time in years that I write something, the first time I do it in English, from DC AND on Tumblr, but this prompt didn't want to leave my head and I'm doing my finals, so I had to get this out somehow. Maybe I will make this into a fanfic later, but for now, my first prompt.

____________________________________________

Prompt Idea: DC x Beauty and the Beast

Jason walked back to his house, nodding absentmindedly at their words, as his focus was on the interlocked hands, their fingers intertwined with his clawed ones. The warm feeling from their conversation silencing the anxiety and self-consciousness about his cursed appearance, slowly starting to accept that they really don't mind it. It was not his fault, after years of people reacting with fear and disgust, it was easy to think they were faking it, their reaction so different from the rest, but Jason was tired of hoping. It was easy to just accept, no need to have expectations just to have them broken on his face, and, despite how many times it happened, it didn't stop hurting, no matter how good he became at not showing it.

The other option was not better than the usual reaction, he would even say it was worse. Jason preferred to be looked in fear and disgust by people he couldn't care less a million times than to receive the looks of pity from his family. Reason why he left the Manor so many years ago. Sometimes, he would fake not noticing how Bruce looked at him, seeing the ghost of a kid, of a Robin long gone, too lost in the past to really pay attention to the version in front of him. Jason doesn't blame him. He, too, would sometimes look in the mirror, missing his old reflection, when he was a boy, a person, and not the monster the mirror is showing these days. His clawed and furry hands were full of scars from how many times the beast that looked at him in the mirror received a punch, glass shards showering the ground, piercing his skin. Not that it mattered, the scars were the least of his problems regarding his appearance.

Then they came out of nowhere and stubbornly stayed at his side, insisting on knowing him despite everything, despite all the walls that Jason kept building, despite trying to push them away, there they are, considering him safe and, maybe, Jason was starting to believe it too.

They enter the house, their house, with them going towards the kitchen, talking about their plans for dinner and Jason notices how this became a habit, how it became so easy to interact with them, to share with them. To live with them. Maybe, there was hope. Maybe the curse could be broken. Maybe, they both could learn how to love each other. Maybe, he could be free.

But as he looks at the corner of the living room, he freezes, their voice being tuned out, his hope shattering. Time stops, only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears as he looks at his most hated place of the house. There, almost hidden by a pillar, was a small table, with a glass dome on it. Inside, a beautiful red rose, that Jason was certain was mocking him.

A lonely petal still on the flower, the last one, trembling, about to fall with all the others at the base of the dome.

It was too late.

#jason todd #jason x reader #batfam #beauty and the beast #red hood #dcu #batman #dc comics #dc universe #what if #instead of the pit madness #Jason got cursed instead?#Jason as the beast #reader as Beauty

21 notes · View notes

quillkiller · 2 days

Note

pleasepleaseplease elaborate on bartylus as orpheus and eurydice variants please if you want

mil!!!!! you sent this to me 2 minutes before my shift started….. i was losing my mind…. they’ve been in my head ever since…. i just got home thank god !!!!!!

anyway. so i have this au/wip which is loosly (very loose!!) based on the eurydice and orpheus myth but also set in canon. i have a tag for it ’fic: don’t look back’ <3

here’s a little snippet:

”Barty,”

It comes out as a breath, as an exhale— but it almost shatters him. If he wasn’t on his knees already he knows they would buckle. Knows he would fall down at Regulus’ feet. He almost looks.

so regulus still goes to the cave, and he still dies. he doesn’t go out of the kindness of his heart, but because he’s tired and he did it all wrong and he can’t win and he just wants it to be over. he goes because he misses his brother and he wants his brother to live. he doesn’t care about the rest of it, the war, the two sides, voldy or dumbledore or the prophecy. he wants out and he’ll never get his brother back so he’ll do this one thing to (hopefully) save his brother even if sirius will never know <3 after that he’s done. he goes to the cave knowing he’s going to die and he wants to. he yearns for the dark and the quiet !!!! he’s 17 and he thinks he’s lived way too long and he just wants out now

he leaves barty a letter. it’s vague but barty figures it out. they spend one last night together because regulus is selfish and greedy and want him just one more night. they used to fumble around back at hogwarts. they were each others firsts and they trusted each other but they were never together. not actually. just stumbling into each others beds, shakey hand jobs, clumsy blowjobs, sloppy kisses. they didnt really talk about it either but not in an awkward way, they just didnt really need to. it was about comfort and love and boyhood and fear and safety and they’re just. so special to me. not dating, not best friends, but a secret third thing. just so completely intertwined but so different from each other.

- virginia woolf. this is the bartylus dynamic to me. like. everything was awful, their homes, their circumstances, their surroundings, their expecations. but they were also just boys. everythings awful but sometimes they’d sit in the slytherin common room and they’d make each other laugh. sirius left but barty is waiting for him at kings cross with a grin :,)

anyway. it all sort of stopped after they both took the dark mark. they still had each others backs and they’re always best friends and intertwined!! but i guess there’s just too much else to think about now ahdhdjajfjkd. but reg comes to barty the night before he leaves for the cave and they properly spend the night together. its messy and miserable and lovely and it feels like a goodbye. reg leaves before barty wakes up the next morning.

barty!!!!!!!! goes mad. mad with regret and anger and desperation and love and hatred and every other emotion under the sun. he wants him back and he will get him back. barty is smart, was top of his class, is a quick learner in all things magic. i don’t know how long it takes, if its months or years, but barty is on a rampage and he’s seeing red and he’s not sleeping and he’s not at all himself. he sees reg as a ghost, talks to him, he’s haunted. he aquires several forbidden books from shady sources about magic that has long since been banned. he will bring regulus back if it’s the last thing he does. eventually he finds either a spell or some magic ritual (haven’t figured it out yet) that existed back in the 1700s but has been banned almost immediately due to people just. coming back wrong. miserable and wailing. barty’s not seeing that though. he’s just seeing that he can bring him back. so he learns everything there is to know about the spell/ritual and then sets out to go to the cave. months or years later, i still haven’t decided. i think it would be a little sexy if it was a couple years after reg died.

that’s where the eurydice & orpheus myth comes in. basically barty isn’t allowed to look at regulus until they both get out of the place where he died. but it also differs because regulus so desperately wants him to look. regulus is miserable when he’s brought back. miserable and young and confused and angry.

by paul tran is and always will be rab when he enters the cave!!

so reg is trying to seduce barty to please look at him. please look at me. and barty wants to more than anything. the first time he finally takes a breath since regs death is when he finally brings him back. the relief overwhelming. and it lasts for 0.01 seconds because regulus doesn’t want to live. he’s so angry and he’s sobbing and wants to go back. but barty doesn’t want him to. and he’s telling regulus it’s going to be okay and they’ll be okay and he’ll protect him and take care of him. but regulus doesn’t care. and barty is desperate:/

sadly barty is greedy. and weak. and it’s been years and it’s desperate and he can’t remember the shade of blueish gray regs eyes were. and regs pleading hurts. and barty just wants him. he just wants him and wants to keep him and he was never ready to lose him and he isn’t ready now. but it all boils down to the fact that barty is equally impulsive as he is strategic. he spent years (?) trying to figure out a way to being regulus back and more of his friends died during that time. he’s done what he set out to do. so he looks. because reg is asking him to and because barty isn’t strong enough not to look at what he wants

and yeah.

#fic: don’t look back #THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY…….#bartylus #ive missed them

22 notes · View notes

armpirate · 2 days

Text

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 16

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 23 minutes

San brushed his hands together, trying to get himself ready as he walked a bit faster when the Maps app warned him that he was closer to his destination through his earphones. Superstar by Jamelia blasted his ears as he slowly pictured Y/n in his head. He listened casually to that song on the radio the other day and he couldn't help but think of her, because the lyrics just fitted her so well. She attracted everyone in a room so effortlessly, it was almost as if she was born with it.

The music seemed to fade-out slowly as he found that route familiar for some reason.

He recognized that old banner of one of the restaurants in the area, that he used to go to whenever he met up with his father close to his workplace. It only took him a few more steps to know why he thought he knew that street so well. Classic Cruise headquarters were at the other side of the street, with that wide three floor building taking most of the space in that block. He knew that restaurant because he usually went there when his father had to double his shift for some reason.

He could only hope Y/n wasn't working there, but the location she sent him marked exactly that place as he took his phone out of the belly pocket in his black sweater.

His steps turned slower as he tried to think of how his life turned a whole different turn after his father was dumped from that company, with no other explanation other than production requiring less people to work on certain projects. That company still stayed the same, while the rest of the people that were kicked out had to completely change their way of living, only because the man in power didn't know how to handle his own business properly. And relating it to one of the things that Y/n mentioned, that man didn't change a single bit.

He was about to turn on his tracks, and change his destination again, but he thought about her. Y/n was completely different from that. Of course she came from a rich family, of course she had enough money to cut up her salary to save someone else's position, but how many people in that same situation would've done the same?

He was there for her, he wanted to see her. She was a mere agent when all that blew out, and she had no fault in the way her father managed his business. She was better than all that, and she had proved it time and time again since they talked for the first time.

As he stepped inside the big building, he met up with a tall man with a nice haircut and a trimmed beard waiting behind the counter, looking up to him over his glasses.

—Hey, I'm here to meet Y/n —he nervously informed.

—Miss Y/s, you mean?

He held back that inner huff when the man felt like correcting him. He understood him, so what was exactly the point of calling her by her username?

—Yeah, miss Y/s —San confirmed.

—May I know who's looking for her?

—Choi San —he slowly introduced himself.

—Hold on a second.

The man left him waiting, with both of his hands hanging nervously over the edge of the white counter, while the suited receptionist grabbed the phone to confirm whether she was waiting for a visit or not.

—Her secretary said there's no one under the name of Choi San on her schedule. Would you like to arrange a meeting for tomorrow, instead?

—No, look...

While raising up his finger, the man interrupted him again, paying attention to the person he was talking to on the phone rather than what he had to say.

—Yes, miss Y/s. I'll give him a badge right now —his tone completely changed as he realized Y/n was the one speaking to him at that moment.

A few minutes went by while the receptionist tried to get the badge machine to start working, until the clacking sound of heels interrupted the silent noise of the machine. He looked up curiously, finding Y/n dressed in a black tight knitted dress. Her presence instantly made the receptionist turn to her and stand straight.

She genuinely didn't care about John not letting San walk through easily, because that was exactly the point of his job. He made the first filter that assured the security of the company and those inside. That was why she didn't think of saying anything to him when she saw San at the other side of the counter.

—You should've told me you were here —she said—. Did you make the badge already? —Y/n turned to John, who shook his head.

—The machine was getting started.

—Jennifer prepared a permanent badge half an hour ago, so it should be fine —she told him—. I think Charlotte saved it somewhere with a note with my name.

—Oh, yeah. Here it is.

His colleague had saved it under the computer monitor, without telling him what it was actually about. He handed it over to San, who hung it around his neck as he started walking towards Y/n.

—Also, a new task: any bucket coming for me, feel free to send them all back. Inform Charlotte as well about it. Let's see if that person takes the hint.

After talking, she turned again to San, moving her head to encourage him to walk with her towards the stairs.

—Do you have a secret fan? —he asked first.

—More like a secret creep —she sighed—. I don't know who it is, but I have enough with worrying about everything going on in my life and the company to worry about a clown trying to tease me.

—To tease you? —San asked, confused.

—If that person was dangerous, they'd have tried something else than sending flowers with weird notes —she tried to play it cool—. If those flowers don't ever get to me, they'll end up giving up. By the way —she stopped before reaching the last step—, were you busy when I texted you?

Other than lamenting his clumsy mouth, there was nothing more interesting going on with him that morning.

—No, no.

—You didn't go to class today? —her eyebrow raised.

Through all those late night conversations they had since they met, Y/n was sure he didn't mention a single time missing a class.

—Huh? —his eyes moved from the metallic railing to his shoes, going back to her— Well...

—Was it because of yesterday? —Y/n asked again.

Was he so easy to read? She only had to dedicate one look at him to be able to tell what was wrong with him?

—I shouldn't have asked you to go for that drink —the click of her tongue interrupted his thoughts—. I didn't remember you had to be in class today.

At least that's better than having her knowing he spent the whole morning in bed, whining because of the big idiot he was.

San was confused at how she acted like that kiss never happened. She was so chill and calm, talking to him like she hadn't left his text unanswered for a whole morning, until she felt forced to speak to him; it was almost as if she was confirming what he suspected. While Y/n was doing her best at keeping her doubts and thoughts to herself. Whether she wanted to discuss it or not, she wasn't going to be the one forcing a justification out of him. She was convinced dealing with all of it was already hard enough for him to be making it even more difficult.

—Let's go to my office.

The second they both entered the common area, most of the eyes instantly turned to them. It was like they had a big spotlight pointing at them, with a neon light announcing they'd be walking through the hallways towards the office she worked in.

From behind, and fighting his inner need to look at the way her hips swayed with grace, he managed to notice how her head was raised up, letting her neck adopt the perfect straight posture. And suddenly she felt so distant and intimidating, that he even wondered if it was right to follow her up -despite her inviting him inside.

In the middle of his own anxiety levels increasing, and the fog of judgment from those around him clouded his mind, San tried to focus on what it first pushed him to text Y/n and meet up with her.

He needed to let go of all those thoughts, he wanted Y/n to know that what he said wasn't exactly what he meant. And, for that, he tried to remember Wooyoung's advice earlier that morning.

—Okay, you don't want to talk about it, but I will —the door closing behind them seemed to hit a button, having him put an end to the silence as he tried to get an explanation out of her—. I know the kiss was awful. I bet you're trying to erase it from your memory, and I can't blame you.

Y/n was surprised by how sudden he sounded out of nowhere, focused on his discourse to the point of completely forgetting about his shy aura that usually kept him from discussing things like that.

—When I said I was sorry for kissing you, I meant that I was sorry for putting you through such an uncomfortable situation for a kiss that wasn't worth it. I didn't mean that I didn't like kissing you, because I did like kissing you. It was my first kiss, and possibly the best kiss I'll ever have. But I know it wasn't your first kiss, and possibly you've had way better kisses...

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her smile as she listened to his rant, where he barely paused to breathe. She was worried he'd act like it never happened if she didn't mention it, only for San to blow it all out while deeply looking into her eyes.

The lack of air in his lungs started to show off on the marked veins of his neck, and the way his words sounded drowned and forced as his speech went on. She could only think of one way to keep him from passing out at any moment. Holding his cheeks, she took one step towards him and linked their lips together on a soft peck that kept all the remaining words stuck in his throat.

His eyes instantly closed at the gentle touch of her lips on his, letting himself go by how intimidating and warm it felt. He moved his lips first, sucking on her lower lip to deepen the kiss. Although his muscles didn't take long to tense, making his body stiff again, when he was drowned back to the reality that that wasn't the best place to do things like those.

She looked up at him confused as San moved back, breaking the kiss.

—What...?

As she looked down to one of his hands, she noticed his index finger pointing behind her to the people that were pretending to be back to work as soon as she moved to look over her shoulder.

Those damned glass walls.

When she looked back at San, she could notice a soft blush forming on the upper part of his cheeks.

—Why so red? —she giggled.

—I'm not —he shyly smiled, looking down as he touched his face to feel the warmer spots against the reverse of his digits.

—So you were actually worried about me not liking the kiss?

As she walked past him, she could feel his senses completely neutralized by the sweet scent that radiated from her. Her eyes were comprehensive as he followed her gaze, but her pose was so tempting while supporting the weight of her body on the edge of her desk.

—Yeah.

—Why?

—Why? —he frowned at her question, trying to think of an answer.

—Just be honest. I want to know why you thought like that —she shrugged.

—I was nervous, I let myself go with the impulse although I wasn't ready for it. I mean —he closed his eyes momentarily to settle his thoughts—, I was ready, but I wasn't ready to be at your level.

—My level? —she scoffed.

—You kiss so well, and I just... I just looked like a fish flopping around.

—San, it was your first kiss, what did you think I expected? —although she tried to hold back those giggles, all efforts were in vain— We aren't born and know how to do those things. It's something that needs practice. Like the way you express yourself through texts —she joked—. I thought all morning that you regretted it.

—No. Of course not. I just thought you were disappointed last night.

—Oh, you should also improve those body language readings as well —she mumbled, grimacing at his words—. Wait, is it because I kissed you on the cheek instead of the lips when I dropped you off?

And San finally saw some sense in the way he overreacted. Of course it was that. The first thought that crossed his mind as soon as he laid on the bed was that, if she had liked the kiss, she'd have kissed him back in the car, instead of going for his cheek.

—San —she whined, face palming her forehead—. Okay. Let's be direct with each other from now on, and I'll start by making it clear for you: I liked it, a lot. Because it was you. No disappointments, no regrets. I just kissed you on the cheek because it felt less invasive. I know you're shy, and I thought that maybe a goodbye kiss on the lips would've made you uncomfortable.

If she was already his ideal woman through texts, meeting her in real life made him believe he had won the lottery. She respected his space and rhythm, and she tried to adapt to his pace. She was clear and comprehensive with him, and it actually made him wonder how many others would be so lucky to meet someone like that.

—Is that so? —his lips puckered while the corners lifted slightly.

Y/n scoffed again, shaking her head in disbelief at how easily it was for Sun to get flustered at the same time his cheeks lighted up again.

—Quit that smile —she pointed at him—. Look at how fast we would've solved things out if you just had called me last night with this.

San nodded, but he still smiled through his efforts to keep a straight face.

—Was this why you wanted to meet up?

—Yeah. Also —he scratched his nape—, one of my friends' girlfriends is planning a trip to Cape Cod this weekend, and they wanted you to join. I know we said we wouldn't do it again —he tried to be careful with his words—, but Meghan, she's Yeosang's girlfriend by the way —he added, as if that extra information was needed—, thought it'd be a good idea to have you there, too.

—Yeah, about that... —Y/n started— I need a favor from you.

—Hmm?

—We're planning an event, and I kinda said you'd come with me —she shrugged as she innocently smiled.

—An event?

—I'm sorry, I just got carried on by the asshole of Tim, and said you'd attend with me. It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know last time was too much.

—No, I can do that —he nodded—. I can do that if you want me to be there.

—Are you sure?

Last time it was more lighthearted than what those events tended to be, and she knew the pressure that San already was on during that barbeque.

—I'll just prepare better for my role as an engineer in Vancouver. There will be no flaws this time —he chuckled—. Would you... I mean, just if you want... Do you want us to have dinner together?

Y/n then realized the time it was. It was still early to have dinner, but she didn't want him to go so early. He came all the way from his house to her office just because she told him to meet up.

—Can you hang on for thirty minutes? I need to finish up some documents.

When she first told him to meet up, her schedule was completely clear. But suddenly her email was flooded with requests of reports that needed to be handed before she left.

—Yeah, sure —he nodded, walking around nervously.

As she tapped on her computer, her eyes went up to him, smiling while he wandered around the room with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. It was impressive how any style suited him, to the point of having her gushing over him. Until his clumsiness kicked in. His face grimaced, momentarily scared, when he almost dropped something from the shelf that was over the couch, making her silently laugh as she focused back on the screen.

San's eyes uncontrollably fell on her every few seconds, moving away quickly before she could notice it, but enough to appreciate how delicate her features seemed whenever she was concentrating on something.

They were playing tag with one another, until their eyes coincidentally moved to each other at the same time, ending with both of them moving their gazes away while smiling.

Two knocks on her door broke all that silly game, having her aiming her eyes at her father stepping inside her office.

—Am I bothering you?

—Hmm no —she shook her head.

—I'll be leaving earlier today, so just send those reports to the head of administration, and put me on cc —he explained—. Your mother prepared me roasted ribs.

And right when he was about to start salivating, he found San looking curiously at them after looking around his daughter's office.

—Oh, San. I didn't know you were here.

Harry walked over to him to greet him, but somehow it felt different to the other two times. Anxiety and nervousness were replaced by some type of distrust and discomfort that Y/n couldn't ignore. It was different from the other times, where he was visibly nervous by the situation itself. Now it clearly seemed like his discomfort was due to her father.

—Do you want to come over for dinner?

—Actually —Y/n interrupted, before San felt forced to reject the offer—, we already had plans.

—Okay, then —he greeted, heading to the door—. Have fun —he winked at his daughter one last time before stepping out of the office.

Y/n saw San sitting again on the couch, slowly going back to his calm and relaxed persona whenever he was around her. Although she wasn't going to ask him about it right in that moment, it was something to leave it better when they were in a more intimate space.

***

He took the bag with food from her hand so she'd be able to reach for her keys, earning a sweet smile from her before she started walking to her door again. He waited for her to step inside first, despite knowing the way inside her house after being there before.

—Do you mind if I get changed? —she turned to him, getting San to slowly shake his head— You can sit wherever you want: the dinner table, the couch... up to you.

And just like she told him, he did. San looked around first, trying to choose the right place, and ended up walking towards the coffee table in front of her long couch. Not shortly after she was back with him, wearing a pair of baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt, whose edge danced on her lap when she happily trotted to where he was.

—Are you hungry? —he chuckled.

—Very —she sat next to him—. I ate earlier today because I had a meeting at my usual lunch time. I could've gone later, but it sits wrong with my body whenever I do. It's weird.

—I've only had a plate of pasta before going to the gym —he commented, taking the food out of the bags.

—Oh, so you went to the gym —she asked, picking one of her french fries—. Did you do it on purpose before coming to see me?

San instantly had that nervous expression again, moving his lips to speak, but without a single word coming out of them.

—What did you do? —Y/n asked, smiling maliciously while ignoring her own teasing.

—It was back and arms day.

—I can't believe you don't get hit on there —Y/n mentioned, biting on her burger.

—I do —he nodded—. I mean, it's not something that happens every day, but it's happened. Let's just say you need a Doctorate in patience with me —he mumbled, unwrapping his burger.

—What are you talking about? It's not that bad —she assured him—. With a Bachelor's degree it's alright —Y/n stopped to change the tone again—. I don't think it's that bad.

—Because you're different —San reached for a napkin when he spotted the bit of mayonnaise in the corner of her lips—. You'd see the weirdest thing, and you'd still find its positive side.

While he was right, he was missing something important, and it was how powerful his aura was despite him not being aware of it. And it was there again, as he leaned over her a bit to clean off her mouth while looking directly at it, her whole body froze for him, and he still believed he didn't have that power.

—Maybe the one who doesn't have good eyesight it's you —he replied back —. I only pay attention to things that are worth it. So if that weird thing got my attention at first, it's good enough already. If I think it's cute, then it's over the top. So do with that information what you want —as she was to look out for ketchup, her tongue clicked when she didn't find any—. They didn't add ketchup.

—Do you have?

—Yeah, in the fridge.

She remembered it's one of the few things she had there specifically because of that.

Y/n was going to stop him, but San was already midway when she realized. She paid for the food, and made extra effort to make him feel comfortable. The least he could do was try hard to make her feel better.

As he opened the fridge, he first looked for the sauce, but his eyes got stuck in the small boxes he only managed to see from afar. It looked like some type of medication, although he couldn't really tell what it was by its name alone. He went back to her quickly though, trying to remember the name as he grabbed the bottle, with the thought of searching it up later.

—Thank you —she smiled widely at him—. I was thinking... Earlier this afternoon, you looked so serious when seeing my dad, did something happen?

Of course he was so obvious that Y/n could tell. He completely forgot she was an ace while reading people's body language.

—I was just nervous.

—Still?

—Because of a man that could end me with a snap of a finger? Yes —he lied.

—And you think I'd allow him to do that to you? —she challenged him, taking one french fry with ketchup on its tip to her lips.

—Are you my guardian? —he laughed.

—Of course I am! You look tough and big, and you're way taller, but I'll protect you.

Being around Y/n was always a good experience for San. Although he didn't know her for long, she always managed to make him feel in a safe place, like he was with anyone else from his group of friends.

It could be that they didn't have a lot of things in common, but they always managed to build a long conversation around those topics. And, even if it wasn't about one of their mutual interests, they both made it seem like it was. It was all so fluid and easy, that both of them felt like they were back to when they started speaking through long phone calls. It was all that again, but better because he was able to see the way her eyes lit up and she was able to appreciate the way his dimples deepened as his smile got wider.

—And I remember my dad told me to just stop taking taekwondo lessons. He was the one who encouraged me to go, until I broke someone's nose.

—I bet that little shit deserved it —she shook her head.

—A little bit, yeah.

Y/n found him attractive already, but nothing beated the way he looked when he was just being himself, completely relaxed and talkative. Not only because he radiated confidence like that, but it was also precious for her. He wasn't the type to be open like that with a lot of people, but he was like that with her. And it made her think how all that patience was completely worth it if she was going to see him like that.

—What? —he smiled shyly, noticing the way her eyes scanned all over his face.

—We said we would be honest and direct with each other, right?

San nodded, unsure of where that comment was coming from.

—I really want to kiss you right now —she admitted.

—I want to be really honest, too. I'm dying to kiss you, too.

Her fingers caressing the pecks on his neck, combined with that happy smile, made some part of his brain tickle, and he was ready to deal with that sensation increasing its feeling.

Her lips felt so addictive the two times she kissed him, but it didn't feel like that night. Something was urging him to hold her closer with his hands on her waist, and never let go until their lips were swollen and they both felt dizzy.

—Just follow me, okay? —she whispered, breaking the kiss just to link their lips together again after he nodded.

She controlled the way he moved by imposing her movements, moving her head to find the right angle, tasting each bit of skin, just getting him used to her. Some of the first times San found himself kissing blindly where he wasn't supposed to, aiming sometimes in the air, until he got used to her slow pace, feeling all of his hairs rising whenever he got a taste of her inner lip.

Y/n broke the kiss again, looking at him under her eyelashes, and noticing how thick and heavy his eyelids seemed as he tried to look at her.

—I'll add a bit of tongue, alright?

San waited for her lips to cover his again, but instead he only felt her slowly rubbing them against his. The tip of her tongue traced the line of his lower lip so gently that he thought his spine would melt at any moment. Instinctively, his lips parted and Y/n took that invitation freely, sliding the tip inside and rubbing it against his. His reaction was hidden behind the need to want more and focus on what she was doing to learn from it, and mirror it.

She took it slow, she was patient, Y/n just wanted him to feel comfortable before going on. She always waited for him to move, and imitate what she did, before she continued.

Their lips popped loudly when they broke apart for the first time, and that sound alone started waking up something in him. Blinded by her, he moved forward, feeling a perfectly marked pain in his frontal teeth as he moved way too fast, ending up hitting against hers.

—Oh my god, I'm sorry —he mumbled, seeing her forcibly moving back due to pain.

—It's okay —her hand covered his wrist, trying to help him take it easy—. Let's go for it again.

He did exactly what Y/n did, he imitated everything he felt, playing with his fingers on the fold on the side of her t-shirt. Her hand, still on his wrist, tried to appease him, while the hand on his neck moved up to his cheek to rub her thumb on his skin.

The kiss was still sloppy, despite being slow, but damn wasn't it making her go crazy every time his tongue rubbed on hers. She wasn't able to control her gasps, just like he gave up a few times by airing out some of his groans whenever her fingers digged on his scalp.

She wanted to kiss him until he got it perfect, and she genuinely didn't mind if they spent hours like that. But he stopped before she could even think of making it real, covering every corner of her mouth with small kisses before he looked at her.

Both of their lips were shiny, coated with each other's saliva, and parted as they tried to recover some of the air that left their lungs.

—Did I pass the test?

—Hmm, I won't mind giving you some extra classes —she joked, licking her lips.

—We should leave those extra classes for another day though. I think I should get home now.

And he was afraid that, if he kept falling into Y/n's trap, he'd fall into something that it'd be difficult for him to escape. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with the consequences of those kisses.

—Is everything okay?

—Yeah, just that... You kiss so well, and you're so tempting, that I doubt I'll be able to control my body if we keep on like this. And I don't mean it in the wrong way —he quickly corrected himself—. I'm not going to force you into anything, that's exactly why I'm leaving. Not —he sighed— not because of that.

Y/n snorted as she saw him struggling with his words, trying to explain to her what was going on, but being careful with his words so as not to hurt her.

—Are you laughing? —he tilted his head.

—No —she tried to lie—, just a bit. But not of you, I promise.

—I'm just trying to say that I was getting hard, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

—I guessed so —she nodded.

He was just looking at her surprised by the way those words just came out of his mouth.

The fact that he was so honest and straight to the point, with no fake excuses, made her laugh. But it was most definitely excitement over seeing him more comfortable around her than the words themselves. She probably would've just shrugged it off at a man being decent towards her -which wasn't exactly the case in her dating life, but with San she appreciated it a bit more because she knew where she was coming from.

Holding his cheeks, she planted a peck on his lips so he'd just stop overthinking and ranting until running out of air.

It was alright. Those things happened.

—I'll take the keys —she let him know.

—You always drive me home, I'll get there by myself —he assured her.

—You sure?

—Hmm —he nodded—. I'll send you a text when I get home.

It was like an impulse, something that got from his inner self and he wasn't able to control. He didn't kiss her lips or her cheek, his lips fell on her forehead. And Y/n was sure that certainly felt way more intimate and close than any other make out session. Such a small gesture had her cheeks burning up, and her smile drawing across her face.

And that smile was something he kept thinking of after he arrived home, that smile was the only thing in his head as he got changed and laid in his bed. And it only felt right that Y/n was the one taking control of each one of his thoughts after that evening, only clouded by one quick thought that made him frown.

Exiting their chat, he opened the navigator, typing each one of the letters that were written in those boxes.

Copaxone: is thought to modify immune processes believed to be responsible for activating MS.. It's not clear how glatiramer acetate (Copaxone or Brabio) works. It seems to kill the immune cells that attack the coating (myelin) around nerves in your brain and spinal cord. You inject it under your skin once a day or, at a higher dose, three times a week.

Y/n was sick?

15 notes · View notes