#the nostalgia is thick upon me

[myuroll]

one album, countless memories — gojo x fem!reader summary: your kids find an album of photos of you and satoru from highscool till now, you decide to explain all the silly lil stories you have fluff, crack, established relationship (married), you have two kids, dad!gojo, reader is called mommy/seen as a mother figure, a lil angst, maybe weird pacing..?

i liked the idea i had until i executed it..this isn't my best work (っ◞‸◟ c) CHOSO MAYBE NEXT (dont trust me)

wc: 1.3k

when the kids began to learn to crawl, they were already exploring every nook and cranny of the house. if a cabinet was open, you could bet they'd squeeze inside and drool over every item they found.

at one point you and satoru found yourselves panicking around the house because the baby had mysteriously vanished. as it turned out, they had sought refuge in a laundry basket and slept soundly.

now, at the ages of two and three, nothing has changed. their adventure-loving mindset has only grown stronger. so, when you felt a gentle tug on your clothes and looked down, you saw none other than your kids attempting to hold up a thick, hard-covered book—the album.

“mommy mommy! wook what we found!” exclaimed aoi, your three-year-old.

“ooo, let mommy see,” you responded, crouching down to their height and picking up the album from them.

“picthuresh!” added haru, your two-year-old, with excitement, raising his chubby little hands.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his adorable enthusiasm as you skimmed through the first few pages of the album. nostalgia washed over you as you relived your high school memories.

"do you want me to tell you stories about these pictures?" you asked gently, a warm smile on your face.

your kid gasped excitedly, you could practically see the stars in their eyes at your suggestion.

"yesh! yesh!" haru exclaimed, eagerly nodding his head. then he asked, "daddy too?"

"of course! let's go get daddy then, okay?"

they nodded enthusiastically, and you took aoi's hand while haru sprinted as fast as his short, stubby legs would carry him to satoru's office.

before you knew it, you found yourself on the cozy couch in satoru's office, sitting next to him with the kids happily nestled in your lap, and the album held in front of you.

"which one do you want to know about, kiddo?" satoru asked, helping the kids flip through the album.

their giggles grew louder as they stumbled upon a peculiar picture of a familiar white-haired man. you couldn't help but join in on the laughter as you laid eyes on the photo.

"thish one! thish one!" the kids exclaimed in unison, their little fingers eagerly pointing at the picture.

"oh my god, i totally forgot about this!" you exclaimed, scanning the two pages filled with pictures from your day at the beach, which happened to be near a waterpark.

in the picture, water gushed and flowed through the waterslides with thousands of twists and turns. however, the main focus of the photo was a pink waterslide, and there, stiff as a board, sat satoru. the caption underneath, written in fine handwriting, read: "when satoru got stuck in the waterslide… 2006/06/11."

"do we really have to talk about… that one?" satoru sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

“daddy, back then was very annoying, you know! he wanted to go on that slide no matter how many times we warned him that he would be too big, and then he got stuck!” you recounted, giggling.

"hey!" satoru quickly turned his head towards you, feeling insulted. "i was just…ambitious! i didn't realize the slides would be that tiny!" he defended himself.

"daddy wash fat?!?!"

aoi's innocent and genuine words caused you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. your eyes crinkled at the corners, and a wide, amused smile adorned your face. meanwhile haru gasped as if aoi had just solved all the mysteries of the universe.

"nononono! daddy was strong!" satoru protested, shaking his hands and head frantically. "daddy is strong!"

you couldn't help but let out a hearty chuckle at satoru's attempts to salvage his image in front of the kids. however, haru stared at him with a blank expression, still shocked by the revelation, while aoi looked at him suspiciously, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"let's just move on…" satoru grumbled reluctantly, flipping the pages until something caught their attention.

“wooow! mommy wooks pwetty in thish one,” aoi exclaimed, awestruck by the wedding pictures, with haru nodding eagerly in agreement.

"she does, doesn't she?" satoru replied dreamily, his gaze fixed on the photographs.

blushing, you couldn't help but giggle shyly in response to the compliment. you leaned in and planted kisses on their cheeks, while whispering a quiet 'thank you.'

"whath are you doing...there?" haru asked curiously, tilting his head cutely.

you looked at the two pictures, one capturing you reading your vows and the other showing satoru reading his own. this caption read: ‘they did! 2014/05/21’

"we were our reading vows. it's like making a promise to each other," you explained to them.

"and i remember mommy's vows quite well! hmmm...what was it?" satoru teased, 'i love you with my whole heart, with a passion that can't be expressed in words. with you, i have found my home–'"

"stoppp!!! that's so corny…" you interrupted, placing one hand over satoru's mouth and the other partially covering your face. "i never said that! daddy is a liar!!"

you could feel satoru's smile growing beneath your hand as your face flushed with embarrassment. in response, he playfully nibbled the palm of your hand, causing you to squeal and retract it from his mouth.

"satoru!" you squealed, wiping your hand on the couch. haru and aoi burst into giggles, thoroughly entertained by their parents' antics.

with a playful side-eye directed at satoru, you continued to flip through the pages of the album as your kids oooo'd and aahh's at various photos before pointing to one they wanted to know more detail about.

"oooo, hamshther!" haru exclaimed excitedly.

"sweetie, that's a rat," you gently corrected, and haru's face twisted into a look of disgust.

in the picture, you and satoru appeared as blurry figures, running around in fear and disgust, while suguru held the rat up to the camera by its tail (you could see a glimpse of shoko's pinky in the right corner of the photo). this time, the caption read: "we found the rat. 2006/07/02."

"ewwww!" aoi expressed her disdain, scrunching her face adorably.

"a rat had somehow snuck into mommy's dorm, and shoko and her lost where it went! so, of course, mommy asked her knight in shining armor to find it!" satoru boasted, pointing to himself with his thumbs, "i had no choice but to save my princess!"

you playfully rolled your eyes and lightly hit him on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper into aoi's and haru's ears as satoru continued to gloat. "it really wasn't that cool, trust me."

the kids giggled at the information but acted oblivious to satoru's boasts, staring at him with starry eyes and admiration. however, a shiver ran down your spine as you remembered you and satoru on the couch, getting up to grab snacks, and shoko spotting the dead rat right where you had been sitting moments before.

"who ish thath?" haru innocently and curiously asked, pointing at the jet-black-haired man with a bun tied up, one strand in front and a calm yet cheeky smile— suguru geto.

satoru's features softened into a sweet but bittersweet smile as he gazed at the man his daughter had pointed out.

"he's my best friend."

"can we meeth him one day?" aoi asked excitedly.

"maybe, he lives far away now," satoru responded, and you discreetly reached behind the kids to hold his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

"awww… okay…" aoi replied with a hint of sadness and a small pout.

before you knew it, the rest of the day had slipped away in a flurry of giggles, snickers, and nostalgic conversations with your kids. satoru had just finished recalling another story with suguru (as per aoi's request and haru's encouragement), and you couldn't help but notice how they leaned on each other, peacefully asleep. soft, gentle snores filled the air, adding to the adorable scene.

smiling tenderly, you and satoru exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the moment. satoru discreetly took his phone from his pocket and captured a picture of the heartwarming sight.

just another picture for the album.

#myu writes ꪆৎ ˚⋅ #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo

[little-diable]

Always have, always will – Dean Winchester (smut)

This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa fic for @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior <3 I hope you love this little story as much as I do! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: It's been years since Dean and (y/n) have parted ways, but perhaps this year's Christmas season is finally the right time to find their way back together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, very fluffy, only a tiny tiny bit of angst, but full of love and nostalgia

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)

“Sam?” Dean’s gritty voice echoed through the bunker, eyes focused on the neatly wrapped box that had been placed on his bed. He waited for his brother to answer the call of his name, waited for the sound of Sam’s boots meeting the cold ground, but nothing could be heard, leaving Dean engulfed by a thick blanket of silence. 

He approached the box with caution, as if it were a dormant trap waiting to pull him in. Gingerly Dean picked it up, turning it in his hands. The wrapping paper crinkled beneath his touch, curiosity mingled with suspicion in his piercing eyes. Slowly he unpacked the box, freezing as his eyes fell upon an all too familiar leather bound book. 

Dean sank down on his bed, holding the photo album in his hands, eyes taking in the old leather, letting his thumb stroke the fabric with a smile tugging on his lips. Memories, frozen in time, spilled out before him like an ancient tome of secrets. His heart skipped a beat as he leafed through the pages, images of laughter and shared glances filling the spaces between the faded photographs. It had been years since he had last seen this book, back at Bobby’s where he had reached for it whenever he could, with her pressed to his side. 

It took Dean a few moments to notice the neatly folded paper that had been attached to the leather, reaching for the letter with trembling hands. He’d always recognise her handwriting, the slightly cursive words pressed into thin paper like ink tattooed into his skin. Dean couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, having to blink a few times before he could focus on the letter she had written to him. 

“My dearest Dean, 

It has been years since I’ve last allowed myself to even speak your name. A name I’ve hated for longer than I’d like to admit, well perhaps not the name, but the memories tied to it. But the truth is, Dean, as much as I told myself to hate you for breaking my heart, for pushing me away, I can’t help but long for you. But now I think I finally understand why you did it, at least I like to think I do. 

I’ve been holding onto this photo album for a while now, but it’s only fair you also get to have it for some time. Sam told me you’ll be around for the Christmas days, I’d like to see you, catch up on the past years. I’ll be at Suzie’s this afternoon. 

I'll be the one trying to figure out how the hell I got so sentimental all of a sudden.

I love you, Dean

Always have, always will.” 

……

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled his nostrils, hanging in the air like a thick cloud of smoke, a pleasant scent Dean would long for whenever he was away with Sam, dreaming of this very café. It took him a few moments to find her, hiding away in a booth in the back, the same one he and Sam always sat in. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on her phone, cuddled into the big knitted sweater she wore. 

Dean ran a hand through his snow covered hair, shuffling out of his jacket as he slowly approached her. Like a thunderstorm about to strike it seemed she could feel him before she saw him, slowly lifting her gaze, unable to bite down the smile tugging on her lips. She had always been beautiful, a rare kind of beauty Dean had been in love with ever since he had been a young boy, but now she was even more beautiful, at least to Dean she was.

“You came.” Her whispers were drowned out by the laugh leaving Dean, hand stretched out to pull (y/n) to her feet and straight into his arms. He felt her deeply inhale his familiar scent, clinging to Dean as if he was an old memory about to fade, unable to hold on for long. The two parted only slowly, eyes wandering over one another’s features before they sat down, vis-à-vis from one another.

Their hands stayed connected, resting on the table with their fingers interlaced, falling back into their old pattern all too easily. Neither of them dared to look away, needing to take in every inch of the face they hadn’t seen in years, needing to etch this very moment into their minds. 

“I missed you, thank you for the album.” Dean’s voice carried something calm, something awfully comforting (y/n) had been longing for ever since they had parted ways. The mere memory of that very day had haunted the two, replaying in their minds every single night, wondering where they had gone wrong, wondering why Dean had pushed her away for reasons she now only slowly began to understand.

“I missed you too, even though it took me a while to accept that. And like I wrote in the letter, it’s only fair you get to have it too. Sammy told me how much you talk about it.” For a second Dean froze, wondering if Sam and (y/n) had been in touch all these years. Not once had his brother mentioned (y/n) – perhaps he had simply tried to protect Dean and his broken heart, but yet Dean couldn’t help but doubt his brother’s motives. 

“I didn’t know you and Sam kept in touch.” Suzie, the owner of the café approached the two with her coffee pot, filling their cups. 

“(Y/n)’s a regular here, she and your brother meet almost every week, don’t you?” The woman was all too oblivious to the tension now sticking to Dean, slowly pulling his hands from (y/n)’s warm ones. She tried to chase his touch, just for a millisecond, before she began to realise that they had just entered a rather uncomfortable territory, no longer sticking to the nostalgia this place offered to Dean. 

“He was there for me after, well, you know. Sam tried to make me understand why you pushed me away, I needed somebody to talk to after you were no longer in my life.” Dean reached for the coffee, momentarily watching the steam rise like souls rising from their graves, leaving their decomposing bodies behind. Pain thumped through his system, clinging to his every muscle and bone. 

“I,” he placed the cup back down, letting his calloused thumb stroke along the rim. “I needed to protect you, I couldn’t concentrate with you around, could only worry about you, not on our hunts. And just the thought of something happening to you because I was too distracted was a risk I didn’t want to take. I knew you’d be safer without me around, in some fucked up way.”

He watched tears well up in her eyes as his throat began to tighten up, struggling to keep on speaking. (Y/n) averted her gaze, watching the snow fall from the sky in never ending streams like tears dripping from her eyes. For years Dean had imagined this very moment, with her sitting close to him, allowing him to share the dark thoughts he had struggled with, the thoughts that were his own, personal hell. 

“It took me a while to understand it, but I think I get it, you hurt me, you broke my heart. But I guess that’s the price we pay in our profession, isn’t it?” A teary laugh left (y/n), hands rubbing her eyes to get rid of her tears. Dean reached for her hands once again, thumbs stroking the back of them. 

“I never stopped loving you, if that still means something to you.” He watched her pupils dilate, growing wider as if he had just shared his darkest secret with her. And yet it had never been a secret, the one thing he had always been honest with, the love he fostered for her. Dean was too slow to realise what she was doing, shifting her weight to lean over the table, lips finding his slightly parted ones. 

Dean instantly gave in, lips moving in sync with hers like they had done all these years ago. One of his hands found her cheek, cupping the soft skin to keep her close to him. The soft hum leaving (y/n) broke the two apart, allowing them to catch their breaths, looking at one another with irrevocably love swimming in their pupils. 

“Do you want to come home with me, sweetheart?”

……

“Are you sure Sammy’s not home?” She panted her words, pressed against the mattress of Dean’s bed with her naked chest exposed to his wandering eyes. Dean could only hum, lips kissing their way down to her stomach, hands already fumbling with her jeans. It hadn’t taken the two long to end up like this, searching their closeness like magnets made to fit, desperate to feel what they had been aching for since they had parted ways.

“Fuck, I missed this, missed this so much, Dean.” An almost boyish grin began to widen on Dean’s lips as he lifted his head, rising from the bed to tug his shirt over his head. He felt her eyes on him as he stepped out of his jeans, only left in his dark boxers as he helped (y/n) out of her remaining clothes. 

“Let me take care of you. You’re mine, and only mine, I hope you remember this, (y/n).” No matter how many people the two have searched comfort in, none had ever managed to make them feel like one another managed to, made for one another like puzzle pieces fitting together. His touch burned itself into her body, kisses forever lingering on her skin as Dean settled between her naked thighs, tongue swiping over her arousal covered folds.

Her moans guided him on, a sound he hadn’t heard in years, and yet he had never forgotten about it once. Late at night, when he had been aching for her, hand taking care of his desperation, he had thought back to all these nights they had shared, long faded memories Dean clung to. (Y/n) kept moaning his name, eyes fluttering close, hands tugging on his roots, hoping that he’d add more speed to his movements.

His thumb rubbed her pulsing bundle, tongue dipping into her tightness with excitement laced in his gaze, set on teasing her till she’d cry his name. He ate her out without holding back, without paying much attention to the incoherent words leaving her parted lips, high on her taste. Only as Dean felt her spasm around his tongue did he slow down his pace, letting go of her seconds before she could tumble over the edge. 

“How dare you-” her sentence was cut short by the kiss Dean pressed against her lips as he reached for a condom, only parting from (y/n) to roll it down his length. The two kept holding eye contact as he aligned himself, pushing into her after a small nod was thrown his way.

It took the both a few moments to adjust, no longer used to feeling one another like this, needing to fully relax before they could tumble over the edge together. Dean moved slowly at first, wanting to take his time with her, wanting to relish in the now unfamiliar closeness he had been dreaming of like a starving man in need of food. 

Curses left the two, echoing through his dark bedroom, alighted just enough for them to look at one another. Their moments together had always been intense, urged on by their longing, by their lust thumping through their veins like drugs, but tonight their time together had something to it neither of them could pinpoint.

“Dean,” his name rolled off her tongue all too effortlessly, a sound that would push him into his grave, Dean was sure of it. She wanted to keep on talking, wanted to express her love for the man she had unsuccessfully tried to forget these past years, forever tied to him. He dipped his dead down to kiss her, using her distraction to add even more roughness to his thrusts.

Dean fucked her into the mattress, eyes set on her naked frame, on the body he had thought of whenever he had grown lonely. She had been the one thing on his mind, the one thing Dean had been able to cling to. Both their moans guided them on, pushing them over the edge in unison. 

He clung to her, not daring to let go as they rode out their highs, desperate to prolong the moment for as long as possible. Dean dipped his head down to press a soft kiss against her swollen lips before he pulled away. She watched him disappear and reappear moments later with a towel, carefully cleaning both. 

“Will you stay?” Dean’s whispers echoed through the room, making a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips as she let go of a soft though loving “Of course I will”.

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #spnfanficpond secret santa 2023 #supernatural smut

[formulas-bitch]

unknown sister - lance stroll

4.2k words

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the city, Lance Stroll found himself wandering aimlessly through the bustling streets. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, as he weaved in and out of the throngs of people. He had no particular destination, no particular purpose - he was just there, existing. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her: a girl, no more than a few years older than he was, who bore a striking resemblance to someone he once knew. Intrigued, Lance followed her at a discreet distance, his heart racing with anticipation.

As she ducked into a quaint little café, Lance hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to enter after her. The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloped him, sending a wave of nostalgia washing over him. His eyes searched the crowd until they alighted upon her: sitting alone at a table in the far corner, lost in thought, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this girl was his sister; the one he had never known existed.

Cautiously, Lance made his way over to her, his steps slow and deliberate. He cleared his throat, trying to gather the words that seemed to have deserted him. "Um… excuse me?" he finally managed to say. "I'm Lance Stroll. We… we might be related." There was a long pause as he waited for her reaction, his heart pounding in his chest.

The girl looked up from her coffee, her eyes widening in recognition. "Lance?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "It can't be…" She set her coffee down and pushed it aside, her gaze fixed on him. "You're Chloe's brother?" Nodding, Lance felt a lump forming in his throat. "I am. I found out about you a few days ago… I just… I had to see you for myself." He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I'm sorry if this is weird or confusing for you. I just… I wanted to meet you."

For a long moment, the sibling just stared at each other, the air thick with emotion. Then, slowly, the girl stood up and moved around the table, her arms opening wide. "I'm Layla," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "And yes… I am your sister." She pulled Lance into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder as they clung to each other.

Lance was at a loss for words, but he hugged her back just as tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connection. As they pulled apart, their faces wet with tears, Layla wiped at her eyes and forced a shaky smile. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "All this time… we had no idea."

The siblings took a moment to compose themselves, each ordering a cup of coffee before settling into a comfortable booth. As they sipped their drinks, Lance began to fill Layla in on the details of his life: about Chloe, their parents, and his time in formula 1. Layla listened intently, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. In turn, Layla shared stories of her own, about her life growing up in another part of the city and her dreams of becoming a professional dancer.

As they continued to talk, the café around them seemed to fade away, replaced by a world where the only thing that mattered was their connection to each other. They spoke of their shared memories, both real and imagined, and began to forge a bond that transcended time and circumstance. They laughed together, cried together, and found solace in each other's company.

Eventually, their conversation turned to the future. Layla confided in Lance that she had been struggling financially and was considering giving up on her dancing dreams. Upon hearing this, Lance was determined to help her. He offered her a place to stay in his apartment and promised to use his connections in the entertainment industry to help her get her foot in the door.

Layla was overwhelmed with gratitude, and they hugged tightly once more. As they pulled away, Lance could feel a new sense of purpose and direction in his life. He knew that finding Layla had been a blessing, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that their bond only grew stronger.

as they were catching up, lance had received a call from their dad.

"I hope you haven't forgotten about the race this weekend, son," he said, his voice booming through the phone. "You've got a lot of fans out here who are counting on you. Don't let them down."

Lance smiled at his sister as he listened to their father's words. "I won't, Dad," he assured him, before turning back to Layla. "So, how about we grab some lunch and talk more about your dancing? I have a few ideas on how we can make things happen for you."

As they left the café and ventured out into the bustling city, Layla linked her arm through Lance's, a gesture of sisterly affection that filled him with warmth. "I can't thank you enough for this, Lance," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Lance shrugged off her gratitude, feeling it was an understatement. "It's the least I could do," he replied, his voice gruff with emotion. "You're my sister, after all. We're in this together."

Their walk took them past a park where a small festival was taking place. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the sizzle of food on grills. They stopped at a booth selling kebabs and shared a plate, chatting animatedly as they ate. Layla told Lance about a dancing competition she'd heard of, one that would offer a substantial prize and a chance to perform in front of a prominent choreographer.

"I think that's something we should definitely look into," Lance said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I'll see what I can do to help you get sponsored. And if you need any contacts in the entertainment industry, just let me know."

As they continued to walk through the park, they stumbled upon a group of people practicing some intricate dance moves. Layla's eyes lit up and she immediately went over to join them. Lance watched her dance with a mix of awe and pride, marveling at how graceful and talented she was. He couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness as well, wanting to make sure that no one ever underestimated her or stood in her way.

After watching her for a while, Lance noticed a young man standing off to the side, obviously captivated by Layla's dancing. He walked over and introduced himself as Adam, a fellow dancer who had been struggling to find his place in the industry. The three of them exchanged numbers, and Layla and Adam quickly became friends, often practicing together and offering each other advice and support.

As the weeks passed, Layla's audition for the dancing competition grew closer. Lance had been working tirelessly behind the scenes, using his connections to secure her a spot in the competition and even managing to find her a talented choreographer to help her prepare. He couldn't have been more proud of his sister, and he knew that no matter what happened, she would make him and their father proud. even though their dad dint know that lance had found Layla and was in contact with her .

Adam, too, had become a close friend to Layla and Lance. He had been an invaluable source of support and encouragement, always offering a listening ear or a helpful hand when needed. The three of them had developed a special bond, and Lance couldn't help but feel grateful for the positive influence Adam had on his sister. He hoped that their friendship would only continue to grow stronger in the years to come.

As the big day of the competition approached, Lance found himself feeling both nervous and excited for Layla. He'd never been one to dance himself, but he'd seen her practice countless hours, pouring her heart and soul into each routine. He knew that she had what it took to win, and he was determined to make sure that she had everything she needed to succeed.

The day of the competition finally arrived, and Lance, Layla, and Adam made their way to the venue. The atmosphere was electric, with dancers from all over the city gathered to showcase their talents. Lance helped Layla with her hair and makeup, making sure she looked her best before she went onstage. As she waited in the wings, he could see the determination and focus in her eyes, and he knew that she was ready to give it her all.

The competition was fierce, with each dancer bringing their unique style and technique to the stage. As Layla's turn approached, Lance felt a lump in his throat and a knot in his stomach. He knew that no matter what happened, he would be proud of her. When she emerged onto the stage, the audience erupted into applause, and Lance couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

She danced with a grace and power that Lance had never seen before, her movements fluid and effortless. The choreography was stunning, and Lance could tell that the judges were impressed. As she finished her final move, the crowd rose to their feet, showering her with cheers and applause. It was clear that she had won over everyone in the room.

Lance couldn't believe his eyes as Layla was named the winner of the competition. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him as he watched her accept her trophy and give her speech, thanking him and Adam for their support. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he had played a part in helping her achieve her dreams.

As they left the venue, Lance could feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. The constant worry and stress about their financial situation had been consuming him, but now, with Layla's victory, he felt a newfound sense of hope and optimism. He knew that things were going to be okay, and that Layla would have the opportunity to pursue her passion without having to worry about money.

as layla and lance made their way out of the competition, they were approached by Lawrence, their dad, well more like lance's dad as he didn't know it was Layla his eldest daughter standing in front of him, as he had left her mom when she had found out she was pregnant with her.

Lance was about to introduce them but then thought better of it, he would let them have their moment, so he stood back and just watched with a smile on his face as his sister and their dad reunited. It was a moment of pure joy and happiness that he would never forget. He could see the surprise, shock and then disbelief in his dad's eyes as he looked at Layla, taking in her beauty and grace, and then the realization hit him that this was his daughter, the one he had never met, the one he had missed out on all these years.

The emotion in the air was palpable, and Lance felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the two of them hug, tears streaming down their faces. It was a moment that he knew would change their lives forever, a moment that would bring them all closer together, a moment that would help them heal from the pain of the past.

As they pulled apart, Lance could see the love and pride in his father's eyes as he looked at Layla, and it filled him with a sense of hope and joy. He knew that their relationship would take time to build, but he believed that with patience and understanding, they could create a new family, one that was based on love and acceptance.

Layla seemed to feel the same way, as she introduced her father to Adam and Lance, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. Lawrence, taken aback by the depth of her feelings, could only nod in acknowledgment, unable to find the words to express his own emotions. The four of them stood there, bonding over their shared experience and the love they had for Layla, their amazing daughter.

As they continued to talk, Lance noticed a change in his father's demeanor. Where before there had been shock and disbelief, now there was a quiet determination to be a part of their lives. He wanted to make up for the time he had missed, to be the father Layla and Lance deserved. It was a moment of clarity for Lance, one that made him realize that perhaps their father's love was not as lost as he had once believed.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of introductions, hugs, and tears. Chloe and Lance's mother, who had never quite forgiven their father for abandoning them, seemed to soften as she watched the emotional reunion unfold between his other daughter he never got to see grow up. There was a new understanding in her eyes, a recognition that perhaps Lawrence had not been as heartless as she had once thought. It was a fragile peace, but it was a start. she soon introduced herself as Lawrence's wife and Chloe and Lance's mother.

As they all left the venue together, arms looped around each other's waists, they felt a sense of hope and unity that they had never experienced before. They knew that their lives were about to change drastically, but for once, it felt like it was for the better. They were going to be a family, a real family, with all its flaws and imperfections.

Lawrence, still struggling to process the events of the evening, couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Layla's accomplishments. He knew that he had missed out on so much of her life, but he was determined to be there for her now. He promised himself that he would do whatever it took to make things right with her, Chloe and Lance, and to earn their trust and love.

As they walked to the car, Layla took her father aside and gave him a small, leather-bound book. "This is a journal I kept during my time competing," she explained. "It's full of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. I wanted you to have it, so you could get to know me better." Lawrence, touched beyond words, promised to read it carefully and to treasure it always.

" Next week is your sister Chloe's wedding and we would love for you to come and celebrate with us"

Layla's face lit up with joy as she hugged her father tightly. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." She glanced over at Lance, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's going to be a special day for all of us."

Lawrence returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth spread through his chest. "It certainly is. And I want you both to know that I'm here for you, no matter what." He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his gaze meeting theirs in a show of sincerity.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of celebration and joy as they all attended Chloe's wedding together. Layla and Lance glowed with happiness, clearly proud of their sister and excited to share this special day with their newfound family member. Lawrence found himself feeling more and more at ease with them, beginning to form real connections and bonds that he hadn't thought possible.

As they danced and laughed throughout the night, Lance couldn't help but notice the way his father looked at Layla. There was a sense of awe in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe the incredible woman she had become. Lawrence, for his part, seemed to be relishing every moment of spending time with her, treasuring each conversation and memory they made together.

Chloe and her new husband, meanwhile, were beaming with happiness as they shared their special day with their newly expanded family. They had been through so much, but seeing their father there, a part of their lives once more, made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

As the night wore on, Layla and Lance began to dance together, their movements fluid and effortless, mirroring the deep connection they shared. Lawrence watched them from afar, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled his own wedding dance with their mother. He couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the journey that had brought them all here, to this moment, together as a family.

Chloe and her new husband, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to steal Lance and Layla away for a slow dance, twirling them around the dance floor as they shared heartfelt words and hugs. It was a moving display of love and support, and it brought tears to Lawrence's eyes to see his children so happy and loved.

As the night wound down, the guests began to say their goodbyes, but not before Layla, Lance, and Chloe insisted on gathering everyone together for a group photo. They posed arm in arm, beaming with joy and pride, their newfound bond shining through in every image. Lawrence stood behind them, his hand resting on each of their shoulders, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over him.

As the last of the guests departed, Chloe pulled her father aside. "Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for coming tonight, for being here for us. It means more than you'll ever know." Lawrence, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, simply squeezed her hand and nodded, his own eyes misting over.

Meanwhile, Lance approached Layla with a gentle smile. "You were amazing tonight," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I don't know how you did it, but you made everyone feel so welcome, so included. I'm so proud of you, sis." Layla blushed, her cheeks flushing, but she didn't miss the warmth that spread through her chest at his words.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice trembling just a little. "I'm glad I could help. And thank you for being there with me tonight. You were amazing too, you know." Lance chuckled softly, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll always have each other's backs, right?" Layla squeezed his hand in agreement, her gaze meeting his.

As they stood there, lost in their own thoughts and feelings, they were unaware of the approach of their father. Lawrence cleared his throat gently, drawing their attention back to him. "You two are an incredible team," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I couldn't be more proud of you both." His words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning, before Lance and Layla stepped forward to embrace their father in a tight hug.

The night air was cool and crisp as they made their way back to the car. Layla and Lance had switched places, with Lance now driving his father's rental and Layla riding shotgun beside him. As they drove, the city lights reflecting off the buildings and streets, they found themselves lapsing into silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the day's events.

"Do you think he'll stay?" Layla finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lance glanced over at his sister, then back at the road ahead. "I don't know, sis. It's a big change for him, moving out here and all. I mean, he's got his job, and he seems to be enjoying it, but…" He trailed off, shrugging slightly. "Who knows? Maybe he'll find a way to make it work. We can only hope, right?"

As they pulled into the driveway of their parents' house, they both glanced at each other, a mix of emotions playing across their faces. They got out of the car and walked together up to the front door, taking a moment to gather their thoughts and compose themselves. The night had been full of highs and lows, but they both felt a newfound sense of connection, not only with each other, but with their father as well.

Inside, their mother was busy cleaning up the remnants of the party, her movements efficient and graceful as she worked. "How did it go?" she asked, looking up from her task with a tired smile. "Did everything go alright?"

"It went better than alright, Mom," Lance replied, taking her hand and leading her into the living room. "Layla and Chloe did an amazing job tonight, and everyone seemed to have a great time." He gestured towards the photo album they'd put together earlier, sitting prominently on the coffee table. "We even got a group photo."

Layla nodded in agreement, her eyes drifting towards the album. "It was hard work, but it was worth it. I think everyone who came felt welcome, and that's all we could've asked for." She glanced over at her father, who was sitting in the corner of the room, looking thoughtful. "And Dad seemed to really enjoy himself too."

Their mother smiled warmly and squeezed Lance's hand. "I'm so proud of both of you," she said. "You've grown into such amazing young adults." She paused for a moment, her expression turning pensive. "And I hope that tonight was a step in the right direction for all of us, finding our way back to each other."

as they talked in the kitchen , Lawrence made his way and joined them, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked at his children with a mix of pride and sadness in his eyes. "You both did an amazing job tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me to see all of you together, enjoying each other's company." " i was thinking Layla, why don't you join me and lance for his race next week?" asked Lawrence, trying to sound casual. "I'm sure it'll be fun, and it'll be great for all of us to spend some quality time together."

Layla looked at her father, then at Lance, her eyes filling with hope. "I'd love to, Dad," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "That sounds like a great idea." Lance nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. They all knew that this wasn't just about a race; it was about trying to rebuild their family, one small step at a time.

As the weeks passed, they all threw themselves into preparations for the race. Lance trained harder than ever, determined to do his best for his father. Layla helped out with logistics and publicity, using her organizational skills to make sure everything ran smoothly. And Lawrence, well, he was there for moral support, offering advice when asked and lending an ear when needed.

The day of the race finally arrived, and the entire family made their way to the track. The air was filled with the roar of engines and the excited chatter of spectators. Lance's heart pounded in his chest as he strapped himself into the car, but he felt a calm confidence wash over him when he saw Layla and their father standing nearby. They were his biggest fans, and he couldn't have asked for anything more.

As the race began, Lance focused on the track, determined to navigate the twists and turns with precision. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, pushing him to go faster, to outperform his competition. But even as he raced, his mind kept drifting back to the people he loved standing on the sidelines. He knew that this race wasn't just about winning or losing; it was about proving to himself and to them that he could be the man they needed him to be.

In the grandstands, Layla and their father cheered him on, their voices carrying across the track. They could feel the raw emotion in their words, the unspoken love and support that flowed between them. As Lance neared the finish line, they held their breath, willing him to cross it. And when he did, emerging victorious amidst a cloud of burning rubber and deafening cheers, they erupted in applause, their eyes shining with tears of pride.

Lance climbed out of the car, his chest heaving, and threw his arms around his father. They hugged tightly, sharing a moment of connection that felt like it had been eons in the making. Layla joined them, wrapping her arms around both of them, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

As they walked back to the pit, Lance couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. There was still so much work to do, so many bridges to mend. But for now, he was content to bask in the glow of victory and the love of his family. He knew that with their support, he could face any challenge that came their way. and he finally had another sister who he could share his dreams with.

#lance stroll x reader #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #lance stroll #ls18 x reader #ls18 #aston martin f1 #lance stroll imagine #lawrence stroll #Ls18 x imagine #lance stroll blurb #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[miguelswifey04]

hear me out! being like a year younger than gabriel (miguel’s younger brother) and having the hugest crush on miguel growing up…and when you guys get into your teen years, you and miguel kind of had this situationship going on—it ends badly of course. hurt words were said and most things can’t get taken back.

so fast forward to several years later (present day) and you bump into miguel, gabriel, and few of their friends at a restaurant and one of his friends (drunk) recognizes you and he’s like, “heyyyy miggy, that’s the girl that broke your heart when we were younger right?” and he’s just blabbing on. gabriel is trying to shut him up and he’s like “what? i’m not lying. did you know miguel sorta started drinking heavy because of you?” and the whole thing is just very angsty and awkward…

that’s lowkey angsty cause damn he really started drinking because we broke his heart ☹️

unspoken tension — angsty

miguel o’hara x gn! reader

the tension in the air seems to suffocate you as the drunk friend's words hang heavily between you and miguel. the reminiscence of your past flutters in your chest, memories intertwining with regret and aching nostalgia.

miguel's gaze is fixed on you, a mixture of surprise, anger, and hurt flickering in his eyes. his jaw clenches as he struggles to process the revelation, grappling with the emotions that resurface from the depths of his past.

gabriel, sensing the heaviness of the situation, steps forward and tries to diffuse the tension. he discreetly motions for the drunk friend to quiet down, his voice filled with concern as he speaks to miguel.

“hey, let's go somewhere more private," gabriel suggests, his tone gentle, offering you both a chance to talk. miguel’s eyes finally shift from you to gabriel, a silent understanding passing between them.

reluctantly, you follow them to a quieter corner of the restaurant, away from prying eyes and ignorant whispers. the air is thick with unspoken words, the weight of the past and its undulating impact unraveling between you.

through a shaky breath, miguel finally breaks the silence, his voice laden with raw vulnerability. "what are you doing here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "why do you have to show up after all these years ago?"

the pain in his voice resonates within you, stirring a mix of guilt and longing. you meet his gaze, your own voice quivering as you try to find the right words. "i...i didn't mean to hurt you, miguel. i made a mistake back then, and i still carry that guilt with me."

miguel’s expression softens, a flicker of resignation crossing his features. "it doesn't matter now. we were just kids then, and we've both moved on," he replies, his tone drained of its usual edge. "but i won't deny that it affected me, that it shaped the person i am today."

the weight of his words settles upon you, realizing the depth of the impact you had on his life. the pain you caused him, even unintentionally, weighs heavily on your conscience. “i’m truly sorry, miguel," you say, your voice heavy with sincerity. "i never wanted to be the reason for your pain. and... if you're willing, i would like a chance to make it right."

miguel’s gaze softens, a glimmer of hope kindling within his eyes. he reaches out, his hand gently resting on yours as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "maybe we can try," he says, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "but this time, no more secrets, no more heartbreak. we start anew."

gabriel, hearing the reconciliation between his older brother, miguel, and you as his close friend was elated to see you guys try to rekindle that connection that was broken so long ago. “now, that’s what i like to hear.” he smiled at the both of you.

a wave of relief washes over you, a sense of forgiveness intertwined with the opportunity for redemption. as you both share a tender moment, the weight of your shared history sits between you, a reminder of the love that once was and the possibility of a future yet to unfold.

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #🌱 lin writes #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #lin’s asks #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara fluff

[fieldofdaisiies]

Like Him?

ship: Eris x Reader type: angst warning(s): overall gloomy, talks about rejection, childhood trauma, abusive households word count: 2,5k words request: "I have a Eris request too. Sorry for my explanation, English isn't my first language. The reader is in a arrange marriage with Eris. And he strats to open himself telling something about his past and things like that"

-all rights reserved -

A gentle breeze caresses your skin as you step out of the Forest House and the earthy scent of fallen leaves and damp soil fills your nostrils. Your curl your arms around yourself, securing the cardigan as you step onto the pathway adorned with the beautiful colours of autumn. 

You never wanted to move here, never wanted to call this place your home, but your father and the former High Lord of this Court arranged a marriage for you, the daughter of an important lord of the Autumn Court. You had to wed his oldest son, Eris, only a few weeks after your first encounter. Soon Eris will rule over the court, you at his side, as he promised to make you High Lady of the Autumn Court, despite your reservations and nervousness. You still remember what he said to you when he put the ring on your finger, “You may didn’t choose me, you didn’t want this, you will probably never love me like a husband, and you were forced into this just like I was, so the least I can do for you is make you High Lady and make this whole situation a little less awful.” He leaned in back then, at your wedding, and kissed your cheek. Not your lips, not wanting to invade your personal space. 

Golden sunlight filters through the trees, casting a warm glow upon the in leaves covered ground as you enter the small forest, heading for the glade nearby. You know Eris will most likely be there, probably with his hounds, as this is the place he normally goes to when he wants to be alone. And you know, when he wants to be alone, you probably should leave him alone. But not today. Today it feels different. I feels like you should talk to him, like he needs someone. You feel it in your chest. There is something like a tug on your ribs that pulls you to him. It is odd and you can’t really describe the feeling so you just decide to follow it. His your husband after all and you get along, so you think it might be good to take another step forward. To actually talk about personal things and not only politic related ones. Leaves, in all colours of autumn - crimson, orange and yellow- cover the ground beneath your feet as you move and a soft rustling accompanies every step you take. You marvel at the beauty that surrounds you and once again remind yourself of how lucky you are that you were born in this court. Of course, Beron as a High Lord if awful, Cauldron forbid if he knew you said so, but the beauty of the court is not comparable to any other. And not all people are bad. The Lady of the Autumn Court is lovely and you like her a lot. And so is Eris. You do like your husband who is distant to you, yes, but never not kind or honest, or respectful. The air is filled with all sorts of lovely of scents—the earthy smell of damp soil and the scent of decaying leaves. Nostalgia fills your mind and brain when you remember playing outside with your family when you were a child. It is so long ago, the memories are no longer that clear, but still you will always remember and keep them in your heart. As you continue to walk, further into the forest, the breeze calms a little as the thick trees and branches don’t let so much of it through. The narrow path leads you deeper into the forest, and you feel a sense of serenity inside of you. You have always felt at ease in nature and nothing has changed that. The days after your marriage you have mostly spent outside, often with Eris’ dogs or with his mother walking around and talking a little. Eris, who will soon, take over as High Lord as Beron’s state gets worse and worse, is busy most of the time, always bent over his desk for hours and even into the night. At the forest house you have often felt quite trapped, like you are in a cage. This arranged marriage, despite Eris’ kindness and respect, has always felt like it as well. You did not choose it yourself and you are stuck, your choice was taken from you. But when you are outside, and the beauty of the Autumn Court envelops you, these thoughts vanish for a little while. Your heart fills with appreciation of these lovely moments outside and then freedom they provide you. You allow yourself to pause for a little and draw in a deep inhale, the fragrance of the damp, early afternoon air filling your nose. You exhale and lift your gaze, spotting the glade as well as the small wooden bench with the heir of the Autumn Court on it in the distance. Your heart makes a little skip when your eyes land on his tall figure, his broad shoulders and involuntarily the corners of your mouth twitch up a little. 

Your legs feel lighter and you walk faster, soon closing the distance between him and you. “Thought I would find you here.” You surround the bench on which jerks backwards a little, but smiles when he meets your gaze. “My wife,” he says in a calm voice, tinged with kindness. He reaches his broad hand forward for you to grab so he can guide you the last steps to the bench. You take it, and relish how warm his palm feels against yours. You sit down next to him, only a little distance between the two of you, and you look up at him. “Are you alright?” you ask with sympathy in your voice. He looks straightforward and then licks over his lips and turns to you. “Honest answer?” The High Lord of Autumn raises his brow a little bit and you bow your head, still smiling a little. “Always!” you say and add, “I am your wife. You can always be honest with me.”

Your husband releases a shuddering breath and wipes his hands down his thighs. “I am afraid that I will become like him. That one day I will treat my subjects just like my father does. That one day I don’t have any respect anymore, that I will become just as cruel as he is, that I will hurt people, that I will hurt you. That I will force myself upon you so you can give me heirs.” His expression is bitter and pained, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he blinks his eyes rapidly. Almost as quickly as he rattled through his words. You can only reach over and take one of his hand into both of yours. “Don’t ever say something like that again. You are nothing like your father and will never be.” You squeeze his hand, staring at him until he finally lifts his gaze to yours. They are nothing but swirling pits of agony, pain and hate. “You don’t know that.” He shakes his head vehemently, his teeth clenched. And so you remove one hand from his, and bring it up to his face. You brush your thumb over his cheek, feeling the soft skin and the light stubble against your skin. “I do know it. I know you are nothing like him. You are kind, and honest. You respect me and I know you would never hurt me. You have never hurt me, and I am sure that you will never do so.” He leans into your touch, reveling in the feel of a person touching him without fear or reservation. “How do you know?” he breathes, voice tinged with a bit of pain. He wants to believe you, he really does, but it is so damn difficult if seemingly everyone hates him and hardly anyone trusts him. “I just do. You have never given me a reason to not trust you. You have never made me feel disrespected. You have never made me feel anxious.” You smile, still brushing over his cheek, your other hand still tightly holding his in his lap. “How long have these thoughts been there?”

“Since always,” he answers in a silent tone. “And I think they will never go away. I think these thoughts will haunt me for my whole life, just like the memories.” You lean in a little, your lips pouted, but not once breaking eye contact. “Memories?” “Honest answer?”

“Of course. I told you before, always honest answer. With me you can always be honest.” This time he squeezes your hand and turns his head just a little so he can kiss your palm. It is just a gentle and quick brush of his lips but it makes tingles erupt all over your body. “But it is quite…gloomy and awful…”

“If you want to share you can share it. If you don’t want to share it, I won’t pressure you. It is up to you, your choice.” You brush your thumb over his cheek one more time before removing your hand and placing it on his thigh, right above his knee. You watch how his throat works on a swallow, and his eyes close for a moment, long lashes drawing shadows to his cheeks. 

“My father used to hit me, used a whip on me, locked me into the closet when he got mad. He forced me to be outside during thunderstorms and he—“ Eris’ throat constricts and he cuts himself off. His lashes dampen a little and you hold his hand tighter. “Gods,” you breath and shake your head, wanting to do everything possible so you can take the pain away from him.

“I am just scared that I will also lose my temper, that if we ever have children, I will become like him. What if I will mirror his experience because it is the only parental education I know?” He swallows thickly and folds his other hand over the one you have placed on his thigh.

“I can assure you, you won’t become like that. I know you will do it differently, especially since you experienced the worst. I know you won’t let anything happen to your children, our children.” His mouth forms a little sad smile at the mention of your children and he finally lifts his gaze to you again. “I don’t deserve you,” he breathes and leans in a little, his gaze never leaving yours. A cool breeze once again dances over your skins and blows your hair into your face. Eris slowly lifts his hand, brushing the few loose strands of hair over your shoulder and then the last few behind your ear. “And I am very lucky to have you as my wife. You are stunning both on the in and outside. Kind and honest, loyal and the most beautiful female I have ever seen in my life.” 

His statement draws tears to your own eyes and you lean in further, leaning your forehead against his. “You do deserve me. We deserve each other and…” You pause, swallow and close your eyes. “And I am lucky to have you as my husband. That it is you and no other. You are kind, respectful, honest, and open-hearted. And of course, very easy on the eyes.” A small grin appears on your face and you heard the male in front of you chuckle, his warm breath tingling your skin. 

“And I want you to know that you can always talk to me. You can always talk to me about those memories, about these thoughts. I am here for you.” “But you don’t have to. You don’t have to deal with my burdens as well. You have already been forced into this marriage without choosing me. You—“ You place your lips on his, kissing him softly and only quickly. “I did not choose it, that is correct. But I am alright with it. I am lucky that I am with you, that we have each other. And I know I don’t have to offer you this, but I want to. Not because I am your wife, but because I like you. I like you a lot and I know you would do the same for me.” This time it is Eris who kisses you, a little longer and the kiss is deeper, almost a little explorative. His sighs when your lips part, inhaling deeply and his eyes open slowly. So do yours. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.” A little giggle parts your lips, your cheeks flushed. “Me too.” You bite down on your lower lip and lean in, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck. Eris relaxes, cradles you in his strong arms, pulling you flush to his chest. “I can’t wait for us to become High Lord and Lady of this court. I know that with you at my side I can do things better. I will be different than he is. I know that you can help me with that, that you will help me. I know you will be a great High Lady.” You hum, stroking the hair at the back of his neck gently. You want to tell him that you know that he could also do this all without you, that he is not a bad person, but you don’t want to interrupt the peaceful silence that has fallen over you, only some birds and the wind rustling the trees audible around you. 

He caresses you back with his hand, his head resting against yours as you both listen to the sounds of nature around you. “I don’t know how a person can love another person but at the same time hate them so much.” He pauses and inhales deeply, his chest heaving against you. “He always used to say how proud he was of me and that I can do great things. That I will be great High Lord, but then he treated me like I was…I don’t even know like what. All the punishment he used on me was always for education, he used to say.” 

“I can’t even tell you how sorry I am, how much I want to take this pain away from you. And how much I want to walk into the Forest House right now and pierce a dagger through his heart.” Fury blazes through your veins and you lean back, looking up at your husband. He lowers his head, resting his chin on your forehead and releases a breathy chuckle. “I had no idea my wife is so violent. And as much as I appreciate this and love you for it, I can’t let you do it.”

Love. The word reverberates through you and makes your heart skip one or the other happy beat. “He won’t live much longer, we just have to endure and soon it will be over.” He leans back a little and kisses your forehead. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @sunshinebingo@tarataraaaa@brekkershadowsinger@azriels-mate123@mandziaaa@cosmic-whispers@mali22@elsie-bells@imma-too-many-fandoms@kuraikei@ginnyweasley06 @bubnix @powerfulpantera @moonlightazriel @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acosf #acotar

[frvnkcastles]

hi bestie i have a fic request if you’re taking them :) one where frank and reader have been seriously dating for a while and they’ve both started to think about marriage but haven’t discussed it together. so i’m thinking frank asks out of the blue after being nervous and acting weird for a couple days, he says something like “i ain’t asking yet, but if i asked you to marry me, would you say yes?”

but if you’re not taking requests or if this doesn’t inspire you, please disregard and have a super nice day!! 🥰🌷🌟

NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When your friend’s wedding comes up, Frank is convinced he wants one with you.

Warnings: Mentions of loss, mostly just fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: This was actually a half-finished fic I had written a few years ago and this request inspired me to adapt it a little bit and finish it :) I hope you like it <3 I would marry this man in a heartbeat.

Ever since your and Frank’s two friends had announced they were getting married, he had been rewinding back to how it had felt for him. The domesticity, the joy of calling his wife, well, his wife; the relief of having someone by his side through thick and thin. That last part still rang true for him — you were his rock as he was yours, and it was for that reason that he reflected upon his first marriage with fondness and nostalgia, instead of the usual misery and regret. It still hurt, but as he watched you fill out the RSVP card and giddily talk about getting to take part in your dear friend’s wedding… yeah, that softened the blow.

In fact, it made him think of something he had long ago given up on. Revived some old dream he had buried, brought back feelings he hadn’t expected to ever feel again. Because of you. And as he watched you sit on the floor in front of him, rambling on about the kind of dress you’d be wearing, he couldn’t help but suppress a smile — not just at the idea of you in that dress, but the fact that you were all his. Awkward rambles and all.

And my God, was he all yours.

The more he thought about gathering up the courage to ask you to marry him, the more nervous he became. He was usually so unwavering and confident, but it was no news that next to the women he loved, he was just a puppy dog. He was far from scary or menacing — he was just a man in love, hoping the woman of his dreams wanted to spend the rest of her days with him the way he did, too.

Still, he had hoped you wouldn’t notice. But apparently, he wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought.

You first picked up on something on his mind when he was watching you try on your dress for the wedding. You were rambling about the details on the dress when you realized that even for someone quiet, Frank was being exceptionally silent. You looked at him through the mirror, only to find him smiling at you from across the room, dark eyes focused on you yet his attention not quite there.

”Baby?” you spoke up, ”you okay there?”

Clearing his throat, Frank nodded and wiped the lovestruck smile off of his face. ”Just fine, sweetheart. You look really pretty, y’know that? Could stare at you all day”, he noted, making you blush and forget all about the worry embering in your heart.

He was good at deflecting, making you flustered with genuine but calculated compliments, and changing the subject when you tried to poke. But as endearing as his longing gazes could be, you noticed he got quiet when you showed him pictures of your friend’s wedding ring, and again when you decided to get in the right mood by watching your favorite rom-com.

Finally, when you were listening to the playlist your friend had sent over, and Frank seemed to grow uncomfortable yet again, you decided to be brave and approach the subject head-on.

”Hey, you know you don’t have to come with me, right?” you pointed out, and with his eyebrows drawn together, Frank looked over to you from across the couch where you were both seated.

”You don’t want me to?” he questioned, seeming a little dejected, so you rushed to grab his hand.

”I want you there. But I can tell this might be a little much for you, and it’s no wonder. It’s okay to be sad, my love. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” you pleaded, and with an affectionate smile breaking on his face, Frank pulled you in so he could kiss your temple.

”It ain’t that, I promise. Sure, it’s, uh… a reminder, I s’pose. But right now, ’m just feelin’ real lucky to be here with you, aight?” he reassured you, and even though you seemed hesitant to believe him, you nodded.

”I want to be there with you”, Frank added.

And indeed, when the day of the wedding arrived, you were the only thing in his sights. You looked breathtaking in the lilac dress and he made sure you knew — and when you returned the compliment at his suit with a cheeky joke, his heart made a somersault in his chest. You were radiating with joy and love all day long, yet at the same time you had taken on so much responsibility to ensure your friend would have a smooth celebration, and that all the guests would feel at home. You were a natural and it warmed Frank’s heart even when you rejected his help with a kiss and told him to get a drink.

That was what he did, his gaze still stuck on you as you danced with one of your mutual friends’ kids across the venue. A soft smile tugged on his lips as he watched you shed the jacket he had given you so you could move easier, your laugh easy to pick out even through the music and chatter. You were his whole focus, always.

Chuckling, Frank then finished his beer before striding across the floor and over to you. He’d have to wait until later to make his plan come true, but until then, he was desperate to hold you close to him.

”Mind if I cut in, buddy?” Frank rasped at the little boy you had been twirling around, and although he seemed reluctant, above all he was intimidated by the burly man by your side suddenly. Quick as that, the kids vanished from around you and you couldn’t help but giggle while turning to Frank who instinctively slid his hands across your hips to reel you into his chest.

”It’s mean to scare kids”, you pointed out teasingly, well-aware that children adored him — he was a dad through and through, but there was no doubt that for the sake of stealing you all to himself, he had put a little extra meanness into his stare.

”What can I say, sweetheart”, he whispered into your ear, his smile touching your cheek as he leaned into you, ”I get jealous easily.”

You laughed at that, and it only widened Frank’s grin as he dropped his forehead to yours and swayed side to side with you. You were shorter but you were managing to hold onto his neck, nearly on your tiptoes as he took the lead and moved you across the floor in gentle, tender movements. His firm chest felt like a safe place and his arms around you put a smile on your face — almost as big as the love in your eyes as you shyly beamed up at him.

You couldn’t help but notice him glancing around while you kept dancing, his hands just the slightest bit shaky instead of their steady selves, and a frown deepened your forehead. ”Are you okay, baby? You seem… nervous, again”, you pointed out, and quickly looking back at you, he nodded.

”I’m okay, sweetheart”, he insisted before leaning foreard to kiss your forehead. ”Hey, I love you. With my whole damn heart, you know that? Ain’t no one I’d rather be dancin’ with right now”, he went on, and feeling you tense up in his arms, he emphasized his own words, ”no one.”

You nearly shed a tear at that, and even though they didn’t hold as much meaning coming from you, you returned the sentiment. ”Me either”, you hummed into his chest, ”I love you so much, Frank.”

More than one song passed with him just holding you, thinking of how lucky he was, the occasional careful kiss pressed into your hair while you clung onto him. It was warm and safe and you wouldn’t have changed a thing for the world.

Only when the midnight hours were rolling in, the crowd was beginning to dismantle and the happily new-weds were officially sent off to their honeymoon. As you watched their car drive away with all their loved ones waving them off, you couldn’t help but tear up — in response, Frank took your hand and held it as tight as you needed.

Not much later, people were turning to you to thank for a job well done before leaving in their own rides. Frank could have sworn you were an angel, smiling at each and every one of them and wishing them a safe journey home. Eventually, there was no one left but you and him and the clean-up crew, and just as you faced Frank to tell him your feet were killing you, he interjected by simply standing there.

He was holding a big bouquet of different colored roses in his hands, looking absolutely gorgeous with his dark eyes and white shirt and shy smile as he eyed you up and down. It wasn’t until he was handing over the flowers that you realized it wasn’t a dream, and upon recognizing the bouquet, you gasped.

”Oh no, did she forget—”, you started, wondering if the bride would have loved to have her flowers with her, but cutting you off, Frank shook his head while urging you to take them.

”Nah. It’s for you, sweetheart”, he stated simply, and when you gave him a curious smile, he chuckled. ”She, uh, she let me have it. She was gonna do the whole throwin’ thing, y’know?” he went on, and again, you gasped.

”Oh, I knew we forgot something!” you huffed, and chuckling, Frank scratched the back of his neck.

”No, no, uh… I asked her if I could have it. See, uh, she’d throw the bouquet to see who gets married next, yeah?” he tried explaining, and when you nodded, he broke into a flustered smile. ”Guess I just didn’t wanna take the chance you’d miss”, he finished, and at that, your smile dropped and you glanced between the bridal bouquet and him with disbelief.

”I ain’t askin’ yet… but if I did, would ya say yes?” he continued, fiddling with his hands nervously while waiting to see any reaction on your face. For a second, he wondered if it had been a terrible idea, but then your eyes started welling up and your hand flew to your mouth as you fidgeted and looked at the flowers and then back at Frank whose eyes lit up with excitement and relief.

”You’d really… you’d have me?” you whispered, your voice fragile as you reveled in the fantasy of standing like this with him some day — face to face, you in a dress, him in a suit with flowers in your hands and the moonlight above you.

”Hell yeah, sweetheart. If you’d have me. ’Cause I fuckin’ adore you. More than words can say, but you, uh, you… you make me feel alive. And happy to be alive. I can’t imagine a single day without you”, he sighed, and with a vigorous nod, you leaped forward to wrap your arms around him.

”Yes”, you cried out before pulling back just to kiss him, ”yes now and every day after this one. Whenever you want to do it… my answer will be the same.”

Grinning, Frank hugged you tight and closed his eyes while squeezing you. The two of you rocked back and forth in one another’s arms, silent apart from your sniffles, until you spoke up. ”This explains why you’ve been acting so weird lately. You’d really think the big bad Punisher would be better at staying calm under pressure”, you joked, earning a snort from Frank.

”Hey, this was really fuckin’ important. I wasn’t sure, y’know?” he shrugged while letting go of you enough to cradle your hands in his own and look into your eyes.

”Awww, Frankie”, you smiled up at him, ”you had no reason to be nervous. I’m completely and entirely in love with you.” With love twinkling in his eyes, he leaned into seal the distance between your lips, kissing you deeply. He stole your breath away, as he always did.

”Thank you for always bein’ patient with me. I know it ain’t always easy to be with me… but I hope it’s worth it. I’mma make it my mission to make sure of that”, he swore while resting his forehead against yours, and with another smile, you nodded.

”You’re always worth it, Frank.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

[vettelsdarling]

I’m so in love with Max Verstappen lol can u write a one shot but where he isn’t a driver and both the reader and max are just normal people? Can you also make it a smut >_<

𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏

➪Ask and you shall receive ;)

➪I chose to base this off an interaction I’ve had irl, that I thought was pretty writable lol (most is fiction!)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: (Minors dni) smut, swearing

Word Count: 3.5k+

You were visiting The Netherlands for a couple of weeks because you had a job there. You were a talented journalist from Vogue, but only one of many other writers. To show your boss that you had more potential than she thought, you decided to do a revolutionary piece on Amsterdam. You decided, one night, that you wanted some wine whilst writing your intro. There was a small and modest liquor store close to your hotel, so you didn’t have to worry about public transportation. It was nearing the evening and the sun was starting to set, which meant you had to pick up the pace if you wanted to make it in time.

When you got to the store, you found that you were the only one there. There was no cashier or worker in sight, but the store was open. Browsing the different aged wines had you feeling like you had taken the high road. Old money style. You were in your own little world, taking pictures of the different bottles and even holding out a peace sign in front of one of them and snapping a picture. After a while, you noticed a song come on the speakers. It was something you recognized from your earlier years in college when you went out partying constantly. The song had been popular back then, and the nostalgia hit you like a freight train. You already had your phone out, and you knew it’d be impossible to sleep without knowing the name of the song, so you held up your phone to one of the speakers and turned on your Shazam app. It kept loading and failing and loading and failing.

“I see that you like the song,” a voice said. It was smooth and had a thick Dutch accent. A hint of a smirk was mixed into it as well. Upon retracting your arm and turning to face the voice, you found the shop clerk staring you down with what could’ve been the most jaw-dropping smirks of the century. He was a sight for sore eyes. That was for sure. You buried your face in your hands out of embarrassment, as he’d caught you trying to Shazam a song on the speakers.

“If you must know, that song is… Slow Down, by Chase Atlantic.” Trying to save face and not look like a cartoon character, you removed your hands from your face and politely thanked him.

“Thanks, I should get going now, though. I have a train to catch in the morning.” That was a lie. All you had to do the following morning was report to your boss about current developments.

“That’s a shame, I could’ve prepared a special tasting for a gorgeous lady like you.” An immediate blush spread across your face. The effect he had on you was obvious and it only fueled his ego and confidence.

“I suppose a tasting wouldn’t hurt.” You looked down at your wrist as if to check the time. The man kept looking at you with his mesmerizing eyes and deep gaze. You knew damn well it could’ve been your own delusions. That he may have tried to merely act friendly or treat the last customer of the night real nice. It was impossible to say for sure. You had been in one too many situations where you'd accidentally misread a situation.

“You look deep in thought, darling. Relax and come with me to the back. That’s where I keep the best wine.” You could hear your own thoughts screaming at you to do something. Darling? That was something you’d only ever read in romance books. Was he even real?

“So, what’s your name?” He asked as he browsed his gallery of fine wines. You hesitantly told him your name and saw his face light up with a tiny smirk,

“That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Max. Max Verstappen.” You took a mental note of his name in case you weren’t going to get his number later in the evening.

“So what brings you to Amsterdam?” His genuine curiosity made him that much more attractive. You couldn’t tell whether to cry tears of joy or run away from such a foreign feeling of delight.

“I’m a journalist or writer. Whichever name suits the piece I work on. I’m just here to do a review of my time here. It’s supposed to act as a travel ad, I guess.” He nodded, smiled, and pulled out a bottle he fancied.

“Sounds like quite the job, do you enjoy it?” He poured you a glass and also a glass for himself. A whole glass? Here you thought it was going to be a simple tasting.

“Oh uhh, yeah, I’ve loved writing since I was young. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing.” Reminiscing about your younger self showing off your short stories to your older siblings and family members had you smiling like a fool. Max, being observant, picked up on it and took a mental picture of your smile. He’d never seen anyone as radiant as you.

“How’d you get into the wine business, if I may ask?” You watched him contemplate for a brief moment, before eventually telling you about his family and his legacy.

“So, yeah, here I am taking over my father’s business. He does most night shifts, but he had some errands to run this evening… so you’re stuck with me.” Was the liquid courage already going to your head, or were you really just that bold? You decided to look him directly in the eyes as you told him,

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight of all nights, then.” Your head was swimming in some newfound confidence. Perhaps Max had rubbed it off on you.

“Sure you are,” he chuckled and poured himself another glass. You weren’t a lightweight, and he didn’t seem to be one either, so you asked him to pour you another glass as well.

“I should probably go after this round. I have to do something tomorrow morning.” You chugged the last of your wine and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Yeah, heard you before. You have to catch a train, huh?” You just nodded to not seem suspicious and began walking towards the exit.

Before you had the chance to though, Max grabbed your arm and turned you around. His face was etched with confusion, not even understanding his own actions. The two of you stood there for a short while before he slowly let go.

“Sorry, I- um. I don’t know why I did that.” Your teeth subconsciously tugged at your lower lip and you gulped before taking a leap of faith.

“Wanna see my place? It’s just a hotel room, but the view is wonderful,” you broke the unnerving silence. Max took every word in and ultimately responded with,

“No, I think you should see my place instead.” Your boldness was met with twice as much boldness coming from him. You found it hard to breathe, let alone think. He started turning the lights off in the shop and clearing a few bottles that had been on display.

“I’ll lock up and then we can go. I’m sure my view is better than yours in more than just one way.” His smirk as those words left his mouth was smooth. Not just smooth— it was unreal. You were desperate for more.

You waited for him to finish up and when the two of you finally got out, and you heard the clank of his keys— he made you lock your arms around his arm. With that, you enjoyed the night sky and the dimmed street lamps. You took in the fresh air; a stark contrast to the New York air you were so used to. Max mostly stayed quiet, but he’d quip a fun fact about his country here and there when walking past the few sculptures that adorned the streets of Amsterdam.

“I’m starting to think you don’t even live in Amsterdam. We’ve been walking for at least an hour now,” you chuckled. Just as if your words were magic, he stopped walking and motioned for you to look up. There you saw a gorgeous penthouse. You never would’ve thought he’d live so luxuriously.

“Wait, that’s your place?” Your eyes were wide open. A small grin crept up his face and he shook his head,

“No, I’m just kidding. My place isn’t that fancy. I’m barely able to pay rent. It’s a day-to-day thing.” His living situation was surprisingly similar to yours. Most apartments in New York were too expensive to rent out, so you lived in a modest, but cosy apartment with your personality plastered all over. The rent was cheap and you had excess money to spend on personal indulgences.

“Actually, me too. Some would say I live like a peasant,” you joked.

“Great, we’ll be poor together,” he finished. The two of you had a quick laugh about your financial situations before you finally arrived at his place. It was a bit bigger than your own and had 3 rooms total. He showed you around his small flat, starting with the kitchen which connected to the living room. Then he showed you the bathroom, which had a rich lavender scent. He explained that his sister frequently gave him different essential oils and thymes and air fresheners that she’d find whilst travelling. He never knew what else to do with them but make his bathroom smell like a fairytale garden. He was getting closer and closer to being the greenest of flags you’d ever encountered. He showed you to his office which was the smallest room in the entire apartment, fitting only him. There was a tiny space for him to squeeze through and get to his chair.

Then the time came to see his bedroom. The state of people’s houses was one thing, but a bedroom could tell you everything you’d need to know about a person’s personality. It was where they would spend most of their intimate moments. Max’s room was simple. Simple yet stunning. He had a few family portraits on his shelf and a bookshelf you could only dream of having. On a small drawer, he had a TV with a remote next to it. His bed was queen-sized and the pillows were almost bigger than the headboard. The sheets were pearl-white and silk. Just above the headboard was a painting. It was a copy of The Fallen Angel. You recognized it from the required fine arts classes you took in college. It was a gorgeous painting that made the mind go around in circles.

“Yeah, that painting was a gift from my father. It’s a little out of place here but I didn’t know what else to do with it.” Max scratched the back of his neck and leaned against the doorframe.

“I love your place. It’s certainly nicer than my own. I haven’t had much luck with decorating like you. I mostly just have cheap and simplistic stuff from IKEA, if I’m being honest.” You sighed and sat down on his bed. The duvet hugged your hips as your body weighed down on the bed. Max went to sit beside you and decided to let himself fall back. You followed suit.

“IKEA isn’t bad at all. I like simplicity. Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, I guess it isn’t really all that bad.” You could feel your heart rate increasing as you heard Max shuffle. It could only mean one thing; he’d turned his head to face you. Frozen. You were completely frozen. You wanted to do the same, but for whatever reason— you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Any courage you had earlier was gone. Nowhere to be found.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” That’s what made you turn. You saw the curious look in his eyes and the genuine tug on his lips. You weren’t one to have one-night stands or sleep around, but you felt a certain pull. A pull that you found hard to resist. Max was magnetic and your body wanted nothing more than to be glued to him.

After you didn’t say anything, he moved closer to you and moved a strand of hair out of your face. His touch sent shivers down your spine. You felt an electrical current run through your entire body, coupled with a warm feeling starting to pool in your lower abdomen. The silence only seemed to pull the two of you closer, but it was obvious Max had more guts than you.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” you muttered. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You definitely did.

“Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that. I’ve just never really been into hooking up with strangers,” you explained. He almost laughed at that.

“We don’t need to be strangers, darling. This is just the beginning.” There was something about the way he said it, that had your mind running wild. At the same time, though, you didn’t want to come off as desperate. So you waited for him to strike his next move.

Luckily, good things come to those who wait. He leaned in for a kiss that moulded into a more heated one. With more and more time passing by, it only got wilder. He switched your positions so that he was on top. Your fingers were intertwined with his blonde strands of hair. There was nothing left to do but start pulling at his shirt. He took it as a sign to pull away and rid himself of the article of clothing. After he threw it into a corner, he took that opportunity to admire the sight below him. There you were; sprawled out beneath him with rosy cheeks and lips that were swollen from all the kissing. Your half-lidded eyes looked up at him and he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear before he dove back down to then attack your neck. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. Once he found it, the whimpers flooding from your mouth egged him on. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt and instead of pulling it over your head, he ripped it off you.

“Hey, my shirt!”

“You can have one of mine instead. I bet they suit you better than they do me,” he whispered in your ear. His breath was hot against your ear. You didn’t actually mind the ripped shirt. It was a Walmart shirt that you got from a buy 1 get 1 sale. You weren’t wearing lace, but you thanked your earlier self for deciding to wear matching underwear.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to completely discard all of your clothes. Max struggled with the clasp of your bra, which you took over and got off. In his eyes, everything was perfect. There’s no such thing as a perfect being; he knew that, but there you were. Beyond perfect. He relished in his victory.

“Can you do me a favour and be as loud as you can for me?” You saw the look on Max’s face and he slowly started kissing down your body. You felt each suck going further and further down. Dangerously close to your cunt. With each gasp you made, the Dutchman gave your hips a squeeze. It was as if getting you off was enough for him. You finally felt his tongue graze your slit and your hips bucked in appreciation. Better yet, he wasn’t a tease about it. He went straight into it, sucking and moving his tongue in ways that made you scream his name like a holy mantra. The walls of the apartment were thin. Perhaps you’d have to apologize to his neighbours the following morning.

He kept going and you started pulling his hair as you got closer and closer to your release. He sensed your need and you immediately felt everything intensifying. There was no way you’d be able to hold back. So you didn’t. With a final scream of his name, you reached your peak and surfed through it gently with his help. Coming down was smoother than the silk sheets you were breathing ever so heavily on.

“Where did you learn to do that?” You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard. So hard for so many reasons.

“If I’m being honest, that was my first time doing that. I was pretty nervous about it, but now I know how you like it.” Was he a god? A sex god? You watched as he moved back up to you, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around his dick. He was above average but certainly made up for it in girth. You started to wonder whether he’d fit or not, but before you could let your mind wander too far, you felt him slide his dick up and down your slit, lubricating himself with your essence. The way he’d graze your clit with the head was to die for. You already knew you were going to be in for a ride.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks to be sure. If there was one thing you appreciated more than anything— it was asking for consent.

“I am. I’m on the pill as well. You can go on,” you said and bucked your hips, to feel just a little more pressure. There was no need for that, however, because as soon as those words left your mouth; he went for it.

You felt him enter slowly and carefully, letting you adjust to his size along the way. He stretched you out like you’d break in a new shoe. When he finally reached the end and couldn’t push any more in, he waited for you to tell him to move. A true gentleman. When you nodded, he almost pulled all the way out, before slamming into you again. You couldn’t help but choke out his name, accidentally leaving a scratch on his shoulder. In response, he attacked your neck. His movements were swift and steady. Your legs were wrapped tightly around him, as he held your hips with his smooth hands. Your hands were now in his hair, pulling and scratching. Your pants synced with his and the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other.

As much as you loved the current position, you wanted more. No, you needed more. He noticed it and pulled out. In that brief moment, you felt emptier than ever. You proceeded to climb on top of him, shoving him back inside you. This time, he was able to reach much deeper. The position was so erotic. He was able to watch as your breasts bounced and your eyes rolled back. It was heaven on earth for him.

“Fuck, you’re absolutely out of this world,” he panted and squeezed your hips, guiding you up and down his veiny dick. Your hands rested on his shoulder and you lowered your head to pull Max into a kiss, connecting a string of saliva as you pulled away. When you felt him thrust up into you in a rather sloppy manner, you knew he was close; and so were you. Your movements became more erratic and desperate.

“Do it, finish all over my dick, darling,” he groaned and continued helping you with your release as well as his. You bounced a few more times before slamming down one last time. Hard. You felt yourself tip over the edge, spilling all of your juices on Max’s abdomen. At the same time, you felt him shoot his own load into you, filling you with a certain delight.

The two of you sat there for a little before you got off him and found a place next to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and had your head on his shoulder. You felt his heartbeat starting to slow down after coming down from the incredible high.

“That’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” you sighed, which was followed by a chuckle from the both of you.

“You lied about the train tomorrow morning, didn't you?” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice.

“I may have.”

“You should cancel the remaining days at your hotel and come live here. I don’t want us to be strangers,” said Max.

“Sure, why not?” You snuggled into his nape and closed your eyes.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. Let’s get you all cleaned up first.” You realized that Max was no stranger at all. You had a feeling that he’d stick around for a long long time. At least you wanted him to, and it seemed like he wanted that too.

“Okay, stranger.” You got up and saw the smile on his face. He was cuter than you initially thought.

“Perhaps I could take this stranger out on a date tomorrow? I know of a great coffee shop nearby,” Max suggested and got up as well. You nodded and smiled, the two of you both leaving for the lavender-scented bathroom.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #red bull f1 #f1 fandom #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 max verstappen #max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 #red bull racing #red bull max #formula 1 racing #formula 1 fanfic #smut #smutty #smut time #max verstappen smut

[paradise-world]

Fictional Ties | Zhang Hao ZB1

Summary : In a web of familial expectations, pretense, and unexpected feelings, Y/N and Zhanghao navigate the complexities of a fake relationship, only to discover the genuine connection that has been there all along.

Genre : Fake Dating, Romantic Comedy, Drama, Contemporary Romance, Coming-of-Age, Slice of Life, Family Drama, Fem Reader

Warnings : N/A

Word Count : 4.8k

Notes : I KNOWWW I'm not finished the RIcky fic yet but if I'm being honest it's kinda feeling like a chore & I wrote a whole plan & story structure like last night so I couldn't help myself

In the wake of Y/N's triumphant completion of her bachelor's degree in dentistry, a sense of anticipation and familial expectations cast shadows upon her future. Hailing from a family of affluence and prestige, Y/N found herself standing at the threshold of a two-year clinical practice, the final leg of her journey to becoming an orthodontist. The air was thick with the weight of expectations, as her family, rooted in tradition, pressed for Y/N to settle down before immersing herself in the demanding world of orthodontics.

Amidst the quiet turmoil of Y/N's familial crossroads, a figure from her university days, Zhanghao, emerged as a steadfast companion. Having earned his legal degree and aspiring to carve a path in corporate law, Zhanghao found himself in the anticipation-laden limbo before embarking on his practical legal training. As life beckoned them towards uncharted territories, the bond between Y/N and Zhanghao would face new trials, testing the delicate balance between personal aspirations and societal expectations.

The agreement to catch up had been long overdue, the culmination of their individual journeys post-graduation. Y/N, having successfully completed her dentistry degree and venturing into the realm of clinical practice, agreed to meet Zhanghao, her close friend since their university days. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they found themselves at the familiar entrance of the local coffee shop, a nostalgic spot that bore witness to countless conversations during their academic years.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Y/N and Zhanghao stepped into the warmth of the coffee shop. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, triggering memories of late-night study sessions and laughter echoing within these walls. It was a place that held the essence of their shared past. The barista greeted them with a knowing smile, acknowledging the familiarity that exuded from the duo. They chose a corner table, the same one they occupied during countless university meet-ups, and settled into the plush chairs.

As Y/N ordered her favorite latte, the ambiance of the coffee shop transformed into a sanctuary for catching up. The whir of the espresso machine and the murmur of conversations formed a backdrop as the two friends began to unravel the threads of their daily lives. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, enhancing the atmosphere of nostalgia that enveloped them.

"How's your family been?" Zhanghao inquired, his eyes reflecting genuine interest. Y/N, sipping her latte, felt a nervous flutter in her chest. She paused for a moment before responding, "Well, they're pressuring me to settle down, but you know me—I'm not really ready for a serious relationship." The vulnerability in her voice resonated in the air, setting the tone for a candid conversation. "It's my Dad's birthday soon, though, so he'll be expecting a lot since it's been a while since I've seen them," Y/N added, the weight of familial expectations evident in her words.

There was a momentary silence, a shared understanding lingering between them. Zhanghao, sensing Y/N's unease, broke the quietude with an unexpected proposal. "I can be your fake boyfriend if you want," he suggested, a genuine smile playing on his lips. Y/N, surprised by the offer, looked at him questioningly. "Really? You would do that for me?" she asked, the sincerity of her inquiry hanging in the air. "If it appeases your family, then sure," Zhanghao replied, his smile unwavering. The exchange concluded with a handshake, sealing a pact that would weave their lives into a fabricated dance of companionship for the sake of familial expectations.

After the candid catch-up at the coffee shop the previous day, Y/N and Zhanghao wasted no time. They both hurriedly retreated to their homes, filled with a sense of anticipation and the practicality of packing for the imminent trip. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the echo of shared laughter lingered in their minds, blending seamlessly with the tasks at hand.

The next morning, a gentle knock on Y/N's door heralded the beginning of a new chapter. Zhanghao, punctual and ready for the journey, stood at her doorstep just as the first rays of sunrise painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Y/N greeted him with a smile, her large black duffel bag slung casually around her arm. Zhanghao's eyes met hers, and with a gesture of chivalry, he offered, "Let me take that for you." Y/N willingly surrendered the weight of her bag, and Zhanghao effortlessly carried it to the trunk of his car. With her front door securely locked, Y/N joined Zhanghao in the passenger seat, marking the beginning of a road trip that held the promise of familial expectations and uncharted territories.

As the engine hummed to life, Zhanghao typed the address of the hotel into the GPS, a beacon guiding them towards their destination. The quiet hum of the highway accompanied Y/N as she began to unravel the details of the trip. "So my Dad's a CEO of this technology company," she explained, her words weaving a narrative of corporate grandeur. "Once we arrive at the hotel, we have to explore the city with my family." Zhanghao chuckled, the familiarity of their conversation putting them at ease. "What does that have to do with your Dad being a CEO?" he teased as the scenery unfurled beyond the car windows. "Tonight, we're having a big dinner at this fancy restaurant with his associates, four of his close friends, and more people from my family," Y/N continued, painting a picture of an opulent evening. "Doesn't sound too complex," Zhanghao remarked, steering the conversation into the realm of simplicity. "Well, they're gonna be asking a lot of questions," she added, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Fine by me," Zhanghao shrugged, the easygoing nature of their banter settling any lingering apprehensions.

And so, they continued to drive down the open road, a journey that held not only the promise of a familial charade but also the unspoken nuances of companionship and discovery. The hum of the highway became a backdrop for the unfolding chapters of their shared adventure.

After three hours of traversing scenic landscapes and winding roads, Y/N and Zhanghao finally arrived at the lavish hotel that would serve as their home during this unexpected escapade. The grand edifice stood before them, radiating opulence under the golden hues of the setting sun.

The exterior of the hotel was a testament to luxury, its facades gleaming in the sunlight. "This is not what I expected at all," Zhanghao commented, his eyes scanning the architectural elegance of the building as he unloaded their luggage. "I told you, CEO Father," Y/N chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes, setting the tone for the indulgent experience awaiting them inside. The two embarked on their journey through the polished entrance, stepping into a world where every surface seemed to shimmer with affluence.

Once inside, they found themselves immersed in an ambiance of pure luxury. The intricately designed interior boasted ornate furnishings, gleaming marble floors, and an aura of extravagance. Y/N and Zhanghao approached the reception desk, where the attentive staff ensured their seamless check-in process. After securing a room on the sixth floor, they stepped into the elevator, a cocoon of silence enveloping them.

"Is this overwhelming for you?" Y/N inquired, her eyes reflecting concern as the elevator ascended. "Nope, not really," Zhanghao nonchalantly shrugged, a calm demeanor masking any potential apprehension. The silence lingered briefly before Y/N broke it with a genuine expression of gratitude. "I'm grateful that you came with me," she confessed, a smile gracing her lips. "It's no worries at all," Zhanghao grinned, offering comfort through a reassuring rub on her shoulder.

Upon reaching their designated floor, they traversed wide, fancy hallways adorned with artistic touches, eventually arriving at their room. As the door swung open, natural light poured in, casting a warm glow on every inch of the meticulously arranged space. "I'd love to stay in here for an hour at least," Y/N remarked, appreciating the serenity of their temporary haven. Zhanghao, with a gentle smile, reminded her of their impending plans. "Well, we have to get ready to go to the city," he said, marking the beginning of the next chapter in their venture. With that, they both immersed themselves in the task of transforming their appearances to meet the standards set by Y/N's esteemed family.

To create a lasting impression right from the start, Y/N and Zhanghao meticulously coordinated their attire, both opting for a timeless theme of black and white. Just a couple of steps away from the designated meet-up point, they paused, a shared anticipation hanging in the air. Not yet approaching, they deliberated on the perfect entrance. "What shall we do?" Zhanghao asked, seeking guidance for their grand debut. "What are your boundaries?" Y/N questioned in return. "Nothing really," he shrugged. With an unspoken agreement, she began to wrap her hands around his arm, a gesture of unity as they approached her family, adorned with smiles that concealed any underlying nerves.

As they neared the family, the Ahns greeted them with pleased looks on their faces, the synchronized elegance of Y/N and Zhanghao not going unnoticed. A series of prim and proper greetings ensued as the family exchanged pleasantries. Y/N's mother, after releasing a warm hug, addressed Y/N, "You've never told me about your boyfriend, Y/N." Y/N turned to Zhanghao, already looking at her. With a small hand gesture, she beckoned him closer. "Zhanghao, meet my mother," Y/N introduced, initiating a handshake. "Hello Mrs. Ahn, my name is Zhanghao," he grinned politely. "It's really great to meet you," she smiled back, the warmth of acceptance evident in her gaze.

The entire family embarked on a journey through the city, exploring different landmarks and important buildings. "This city is so beautiful," Y/N commented, her eyes sparkling with amazement. "I know," Zhanghao replied shortly, the unspoken connection between them apparent. They exchanged smiles, a silent understanding that spoke volumes in the midst of the bustling cityscape.

After a leisurely stroll, they decided to venture into a small, albeit pricey, restaurant. "They sell the best Kobe Beef here!" Y/N's brother exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Your family seems very fond of this place," Zhanghao whispered to Y/N. "Mainly my brother, but my sister never really cared," she shrugged. Seated at the restaurant, they indulged in high-quality meals featuring juicy beef. Amidst the flavorful bites, the family continued to socialize, sharing laughter, stories, and creating an atmosphere of warmth that transcended the boundaries of familial expectations.

As they returned to the sanctuary of their hotel room, the air was filled with a comfortable fullness from the delightful dinner. "You did very well to impress them," Y/N complimented, her voice carrying a note of approval. "I hope we were believable at least," Zhanghao smiled, a sense of satisfaction evident in his expression. "I'm sure we were," she reassured, confidence radiating from her. The successful charade had set a positive tone for the evening.

Transitioning from their casual attire, they delved into the realm of elegance. Y/N, with practiced grace, began to curl her hair, while Zhanghao, ever the debonair companion, parted his hair near the middle, revealing a sophisticated look. "You suit this hairstyle a lot," Y/N complimented his appearance, her eyes appreciating the transformation. "I'll keep that in mind when seeing your family," Zhanghao smiled, returning the favor. "But I'm the one that complimented you…?" Y/N looked confused. "Well then, this is the only time you'll see it," he teased before receiving a playful slap on the shoulder. "You're so mean to me!" she complained, the banter echoing through the room.

With their attire carefully selected, they adorned themselves with accessories that added a glimmer to their appearance. "Y/N!" Zhanghao called. "What's up!" she asked. "Can you help me put on my tie?" Y/N left the bathroom and approached Zhanghao. As she fixed his tie with little distance between them, she asked, "Do you not know how to put on a tie?" "This is the first time I'm wearing one," he commented. Looking up at him, Y/N met his piercing gaze. With one final knot, she finished, saying, "There you go." Zhanghao checked himself out in the mirror, teasingly asking, "Would you say I look handsome enough for your family?" "Whatever, let's go!" Y/N jokingly rolled her eyes, and together, they stepped foot outside of their hotel room.

Once again, they walked down the halls, the click of Y/N's heels resonating one step at a time as she walked beside Zhanghao, their coordinated elegance setting the stage for the next act in their charade.

The restaurant exuded an air of exclusivity, its highly polished interior complemented by black-tinted windows that added a touch of mystery. The group was sizable, comprising nine members of the Ahn family, including Y/N's dad, ten of his associates, four close friends from high school, and the three partners of his children, among whom Zhanghao found his place. The entourage of 26 individuals made a grand entrance, the prestigious family name uttered by Y/N's dad opening the doors to the large and luxurious restaurant.

Arriving at a private room with a grand table, the middle seat reserved for Y/N's father, Y/N and Zhanghao found themselves seated next to each other, not too far away from her father. Warm welcomes were extended by Y/N's grandparents, aunt, and uncle, enveloping Zhanghao in a generous embrace. "How did you two meet?" Y/N's grandmother sweetly asked, her eyes filled with curiosity. "We met the moment we entered the same university together," Y/N replied, narrating their genuine story. "How did you two get together?" Her grandfather inquired. "I took her to a local coffee shop nearby, ordered her the same latte she always orders, and asked the big question." Zhanghao answered, and a shared smile passed between them as their eyes met.

As the evening progressed, orders were placed, with Y/N opting for pasta and Zhanghao choosing risotto, both adorned with white truffles. The table was set for a feast of flavors.

Once the meals were served, Y/N's father took the floor. "I'd just like to welcome today, my youngest daughter's boyfriend, who I had just met today." Applause followed as Zhanghao graciously bowed. "So, child, tell me, what are your plans for the future?" Y/N's father inquired, bringing a moment of thoughtful silence before Y/N responded. "Since I'm starting my clinical practice for 2 years and studying orthodontics after that, while Zhanghao is soon to start his practical legal training to begin his journey to become a corporate lawyer, I'd say we're both focusing on ourselves, our stability, and security with our careers and finance." Y/N smiled, but her father's reaction was less enthusiastic. "That's alright, just expected a bit more from you, though, Y/N," he commented, casting a shadow of disappointment over her. She stared at the ground, feeling displeased.

"We would like to get married, though, find a home to permanently stay at, and build a family," Zhanghao spoke up, breaking the silence. Y/N looked up, and her father's grin widened. "After everything else, though, of course," Zhanghao added. Y/N's dad, now pleased, announced to everyone, "That's more like it, everyone!" The room filled with applause, smiles, and nods, celebrating the future plans of Y/N and Zhanghao's relationship.

After indulging in flavorful food and high-quality drinks, Y/N and Zhanghao returned to their hotel room, the echoes of the celebratory dinner still lingering in the air.

In the hushed ambiance of their private space, a storm brewed within Y/N. Panic consumed her as she grappled with the weight of the plans laid out at the dinner table. "It's just so much! Imagine all those hopes and expectations for us." Y/N's voice trembled, her chest constricting, breathing becoming a struggle. The room seemed to spin as she paced hurriedly, a cascade of worries and fears pouring out in a torrent. Her eyes welled with tears, and her mouth felt dry as she verbalized the overwhelming thoughts racing through her mind.

Witnessing Y/N's distress, Zhanghao approached her, gently holding her by her exposed shoulders. "Y/N, it's okay," he reassured, his voice a soothing balm. Drawing her into a soft hug, he whispered, "I'm sorry," as Y/N quietly began to sob. "I only said that because I saw how sad you were at your Dad's disapproval," he explained, tears mirroring Y/N's falling from his eyes. "We can always fake break up, okay? You can make it completely my fault and make me seem horrible so it doesn't have a bad image on you." As he let go of her and looked into her eyes, he added, "You don't have anything to worry about, okay? I'm always here for you anyway." A warm smile accompanied his reassurance as he gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Thank you, Zhanghao, for everything," Y/N grinned, small tears still escaping from her eyes.

"This is gonna sound really weird," Zhanghao began, his voice carrying a gentleness. "But do you want me to hold you tonight, maybe? I just don't want you to sleep in this state." He asked gently. "No, it's fine. Thank you for making me feel better, though," she smiled. As they began to get ready for bed, going through their night routines, they eventually found themselves in the same bed, a pillow placed between them.

As the sun dawned on the next day, signaling the conclusion of their trip, the Ahn family decided to spend their remaining moments at a popular amusement park before heading home.

"I'm scared," Y/N whispered to Zhanghao as they stood in line for the roller coaster. "It's okay, it's just a roller coaster," Zhanghao reassured. Once on the ride, Y/N's screams echoed louder than Zhanghao's laughter, the twists, turns, and drops inducing a mix of fear and exhilaration.

The roller coaster adventure behind them, the family moved on to the towering and colorful Ferris ring car. Anticipation mingled with trepidation as Y/N, feeling uneasy, looked at Zhanghao. "Hold onto my hand if you get scared," he offered with a comforting smile. As they took their seats and the ride began, Y/N gripped Zhanghao's hand tightly. Their eyes met, and in that moment, a strange warmth enveloped Y/N, her heart racing uncontrollably as reality blurred with the spinning motion of the ride.

After trying out various rides, the family decided it was time to refuel. The image of Y/N and Zhanghao holding hands lingered in her mind as they sat down to eat. Zhanghao noticed her distant gaze, and he inquired, "What are you ordering?" "Just a corndog and coke, please," she replied. The shared ferris ring car moment played on repeat in her thoughts, leaving her questioning if Zhanghao was more than just a friend.

A face painting booth caught their attention, and everyone in the family wanted to get their faces painted. Y/N opted for a simple rose on her cheek, and the artist took extra care with the details. Zhanghao approached with a raccoon on his cheek, admiring Y/N's choice. The artist finished the rose, and Y/N marveled at the mirror, finding herself adorned with a beautifully shaded flower. The family then ventured to find accessories, with Zhanghao selecting a rose headband for Y/N. "To match with your cheek," he smiled as they admired her reflection. Y/N, determined to reciprocate, browsed through the limited selection for Zhanghao. Unable to find a raccoon headband, she suggested, "Do you just wanna match?" Zhanghao nodded, and they both snapped mirror selfies with their matching rose headbands before embarking on more rides at the park. The day at the amusement park became a vibrant chapter in their shared adventure, filled with laughter, shared moments, and the blossoming of something more than friendship.

After a day filled with laughter and shared moments at the amusement park, the time came for Y/N and Zhanghao to pack up their bags and return to the realities awaiting them.

"Do you think we were successful?" Zhanghao questioned as they began their journey back. "Definitely," Y/N chuckled, her heart fluttering at the thought. "My dad loves you, and my mum made very nice comments about you, so we were definitely successful." Their smiles mirrored the contentment they felt, the shared success of their faux relationship adding an unexpected layer to their friendship.

As they drove, Y/N found herself admiring the tall trees and the vibrant hues of the sky as the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

After another three hours on the road, they arrived at Y/N's house. "I'll help you with your things," Zhanghao offered. The two walked up to her door, and as Y/N opened it, Zhanghao placed her belongings on the ground. Gratitude filled Y/N's expression as she said, "I can't thank you enough for this." "Well, I care for you a lot, so of course, I'd help," Zhanghao giggled before pulling her into a warm hug. "I'll see you, Zhanghao!" she grinned. "On our next adventure!" he replied, returning her smile before hopping into his car and driving off. The echoes of their shared escapade lingered in Y/N's mind as she entered her home, grateful for the unexpected turns their journey had taken.

Chapter 10: Practices

In the unfolding chapters of their individual journeys, Y/N and Zhanghao delved into the intricate realms of their chosen careers. Y/N, now immersed in the bustling atmosphere of her dental clinical practice, found herself navigating through the daily tapestry of oral healthcare.

The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as Y/N moved seamlessly through her responsibilities. Engaging in the artistry of dental procedures, she meticulously performed cleanings, her nimble fingers expertly navigating the contours of each tooth. With precision and care, she executed fillings, infusing renewed vitality into deteriorating enamel. Extractions, while a somber task, became a necessary skill in her repertoire, handled with both gentleness and efficiency.

Dental examinations became a routine, a meticulous inspection of oral landscapes. Y/N's keen eyes scanned for signs of decay, misalignment, or potential issues, each diagnosis a puzzle to solve. As she interacted with patients, she honed her ability to communicate complex dental findings in a way that was both understandable and comforting.

One day, curiosity led Y/N to the orthodontic realm, an area she aspired to explore further. Standing beside one of her seasoned colleagues, she observed the delicate artistry of creating and fitting dental appliances. The metallic gleam of braces adorned the workspace, and Y/N absorbed every nuance, expressing her desire to specialize in orthodontics.

Beyond the technical skills, Y/N embraced her role as an educator. Patient interaction extended beyond the chair, as she imparted valuable knowledge about oral hygiene practices. Her counseling extended beyond the clinical setting, empowering individuals to cultivate habits that would contribute to a lifetime of dental wellness.

In the symphony of dental care, Y/N found her rhythm. Each day brought new challenges and triumphs, as she honed her craft within the clinical confines. As Zhanghao embarked on his own journey in practice legal training, their parallel pursuits carved distinct paths toward professional fulfillment. The separate beats of their careers played on, harmonizing the melody of their individual growth.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Y/N and Zhanghao delved into their respective careers. While occasional texts maintained a connection between them, their focus was primarily on navigating the challenges of their professional lives.

On a Friday evening, the familiar knock echoed through Y/N's doorway. Zhanghao stood on the other side, and Y/N welcomed him into her home with a warm smile.

Seated comfortably on her couch, the atmosphere shifted as Zhanghao began to open up. "I might need your help," he confessed, revealing the source of his stress – the upcoming Legal Awards Gala. "I'm expected to attend, since my mentor who is an experienced lawyer invited me," he explained.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N inquired, "What's wrong with that?" Zhanghao looked up, gauging her reaction. "He said that I should bring a date," he emphasized, and Y/N's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Of course!" she exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug. "Are you sure? I don't want to make you feel forced," Zhanghao questioned, concerned. Y/N assured him with a smile, "No, of course not. When is it?"

"Tomorrow night," Zhanghao replied. The room filled with laughter as they both shared a moment of light-heartedness. "As long as you pick me up, we'll be all good," Y/N playfully added, sealing the deal with a shared sense of excitement.

The night of the Legal Awards Gala had arrived, and Y/N meticulously styled herself in a sophisticated black dress paired with a chic blazer. As she stepped outside, she found Zhanghao waiting for her, looking dapper in a well-fitted suit and tie.

"You learned how to do it yourself, I see?" Y/N teased, observing his refined appearance. "I had to learn for the whole legal training thing," he chuckled, revealing the practical side of his attire.

They entered the car, and as they began to drive, the night sky welcomed them with a breathtaking display of stars. Y/N, feeling the festive spirit, suggested, "What should our entrance be?"

Zhanghao pondered for a moment before proposing, "Our famous arm hold?"

"Let's go with that," Y/N agreed, anticipating the subtle theatrical touch they would bring to the event.

Upon their arrival, the venue unfolded before them – another grand hotel setting the stage for the Legal Awards Gala.

Y/N elegantly wrapped her hands around Zhanghao's arm as the two made their entrance into the hotel. Escorted to the venue, they found themselves in a breathtakingly luxurious ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers. The air was filled with an air of sophistication, and the attendees, donned in opulent attire, hinted at the grandeur of the Legal Awards Gala.

A distinguished man approached them and warmly shook Zhanghao's hand. "Y/N, meet my mentor Ryu Chanwoo," Zhanghao introduced. As Ryu Chanwoo extended his hand to Y/N, she greeted him with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ahn Y/N." Ryu Chanwoo chuckled, "I've heard your family name many times thanks to your father. I'm proud of you for bringing a very prestigious date, Zhanghao; this will definitely help with your professional image."

After Zhanghao expressed gratitude to his mentor, Ryu Chanwoo mingled with others. Y/N, amused by the revelation about her father's reputation, chuckled, "I didn't know people knew my Dad that much." Zhanghao replied, "Well, you're helping me a lot right now." The two shared a laugh before engaging in conversations with senior partners from renowned law firms. Topics ranged from industry trends to legal strategies and potential collaborations.

As the night progressed, they took their seats at a table, joining the company of others. Socializing continued over the elegant dinner, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie among legal professionals. In the latter part of the gala, Y/N and Zhanghao witnessed numerous individuals receiving awards for their outstanding achievements in the field of law. Although Y/N had limited knowledge of the legal intricacies, she graciously smiled and clapped throughout the evening.

The night air was filled with a sense of accomplishment as Zhanghao drove Y/N home after the Legal Awards Gala. However, as Y/N prepared to exit the car, Zhanghao's sudden request halted her movements. "Wait," he said, his gaze piercing hers, prompting her to sit back down.

With a look of genuine confusion, Y/N awaited his words. "Why are we just faking all the time?" he asked, causing her to furrow her brows. As he continued, Zhanghao revealed, "Y/N, we've been friends throughout all of uni." A sense of realization flickered across her face. "Are you saying what I think you're trying to say?" she questioned, searching his eyes for confirmation. "Yes, I am, Y/N," he replied.

A silent pause lingered before he opened up about the feelings he had harbored. "I felt something on your father's birthday trip, or maybe even during uni," he confessed. "I know we've only been fake dating twice, and it's been nearly two weeks. But throughout our adventures, we said we only needed each other for different things. What if we just needed each other, in general?" he asked, a genuine look in his eyes.

Y/N's heart raced as she contemplated his words. "What if I want you to want me instead of being something you need?" she questioned. Zhanghao's response was clear, "I think it's very obvious from what I'm saying right now that I want you." With that, they leaned in for a kiss, a culmination of unspoken emotions. Zhanghao gently held her face, and Y/N placed her hands behind his head. Their hearts raced, and the kiss was now a testament to their newfound connection.

As they reluctantly let go, Zhanghao bid her goodnight, "Goodnight, Y/N," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Goodnight, Zhanghao," she grinned, stepping into her house with the certainty that she was now more than just a fake girlfriend. New beginnings awaited them both.

notes : i hope you enjoyed!! i know this is pretty short but i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! this was supposed to be after the ricky fic & another project but i genuinely just couldn't help myself.

#paradise-world #zerobaseone #zb1 #zerose #zerobaseone oneshot #zerobaseone zhanghao #zb1 oneshot #zb1 oneshots #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 zhanghao #kpopidol #kpop #boysplanet #boys planet #oneshot #oneshots #imagine #imagines #zhanghao x reader #zerobaseone imagine #zerobaseone oneshots #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone fluff #zerobaseone scenarios #kpop writing #zhanghao oneshot #zhanghao imagines

[jinxhallows]

Unhinged . [ a skz AU fiction ]

𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍.

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 (ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟᴏsᴛ…ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴜɴ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ʀɪᴅᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴜᴄᴇ)

ʏᴏᴜ, ᴄʜᴀɴ, ғᴇʟɪx, ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊɪsᴜɴɢ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀᴋ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ʟᴇᴀᴅs ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴs. ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪᴇs. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇsᴛᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴀʟʟ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ, ᴏɴᴇ ʙʏ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅs ʏᴏᴜ?

☾ -- ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀ sᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏᴡ) ᴀᴜ, ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ!ᴄʜᴀɴ, ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ғᴇʟɪx, ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ, ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ!ᴊɪsᴜɴɢ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, sᴜsᴘᴇɴsᴇ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

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☾ -- ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs

Prologue ((you are here)) | Chapter One | Chapter Two (mature) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (mature) | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight (mature) | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten (mature) | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Lucky Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | ━ ☾ -- ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ? ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ

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𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜:

𝕒𝕓𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕠 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕠��𝕤 [ you must be 18+ to ride this ride ]

𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚄, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚕…𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎.

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ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ | wc: 2.0k

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2 weeks have passed since the last full moon....

The bell chimes upon your entry, as Chan holds the door open for you, ushering you into a parlor that seemed to transport you back to your childhood. The air was thick with the sweet scent of freshly baked waffle cones and cookies, and your senses were suddenly heightened, overwhelmed by the mixture of new scents and their intensity all at once. You close your eyes, taking in another long whiff, and relishing in the nostalgia that consumes you. 

Guiding you towards a booth, Chan's gentle touch on your lower back brings your focus back into the present. The seats are modeled after the diners of yesteryear, with shiny red vinyl material that ever so slightly squeaked as you slide into the booth across from the handsome, dark-haired hybrid man. As you watch Chan, humming to himself and nodding to a melody that only he could hear, a comforting warmth spreads over your stomach, and you can’t help putting your hand atop it, softly. 

Flipping the one-page laminated menu to the other side, Chan takes a moment to murmur the choices aloud to himself. His brows furrow slightly whenever he notes a strange flavor combination, but he goes back to softly humming again, lost in thought. 

Suddenly realizing he was hogging the menu, Chan looks up at you and catches himself, sliding the sheet across the table with an apology. "Sorry about that, little witch. It's been so long since I've been in this kind of place," he says with a small smile. 

You smile back, running your finger down the long list of ice cream flavors on the menu. "No worries. I was admiring you anyway." 

Chan chuckles, "Admiring what? My indecisiveness?" he continues, “Really, I’ve never even heard of some of those flavors before.” 

“Hey, you were the one who promised me ice cream before I died.” You say and he nods in defeat. 

“I did promise you ice cream.” 

You laugh, "No, I’m just admiring how at peace you looked. I can't remember the last time I heard your singing voice, even just a hum. You look so... happy. I like it." 

A shallow dimple appears at the corner of Chan's mouth as he grasps your hands across the table. "I am happy. I have a second chance to be a dad. A good one... like mine was, but better. And I get a second chance to love you, and I won't hold back this time. Losing you, if only for a little while, didn't put me in a good headspace." 

As you listen to Chan's heartfelt words, memories flood your mind. You had gone to literal Hell and back with this man and his family in the last few months. You had protected the family heirloom that held Hyunjin’s soul and found solace in Felix for killing the wolves that murdered your parents. You even found out that Hyunjin was the most vulnerable.  You went from questioning Jisung's validity to literally relying on him to drag you from the pits of purgatory and being the source of much of your laughter throughout the entire journey.  

And as for Chan, you had gone from perceiving him as a fearsome monster to someone you loved so deeply, it was dangerous sometimes. 

Chan remembers how volatile he felt during that time.  He could’ve snapped at any time, on anyone, and he gave in to those impulses.  He was the brother that held the highest regard for mortal life, and yet he would’ve murdered anyone on the path to bringing you and Jisung back.  Chan barely slept throughout the whole ordeal, he didn’t feed, and cried so much, he nearly fooled himself into believing his humanity had returned. Another human hadn’t been able to draw such profound feelings from him since Amelia. 

As you reminisce, the sound of a hurried waitress draws your attention. She seems out of sorts and rushed as she takes a big sigh and puts on a smile.  

"Alrighty, sorry for the wait, we normally don't get folks this late anymore these days. What can I get you two?" she asks, flipping open a small notepad and looking between you patiently, awaiting your orders. 

“After you.” Chan gestures for you to go first. 

You sit up a little straighter in the booth.  “I’ll take the chocolate chip cookie dough milkshake.” 

“Alright, one straw or two?” The waitress scribbles in her pad. 

“That actually sounds really good, two, I’ll share with her.” Chan takes the chance to not have to decide between all of the flavors again as he gives the waitress a charming smile and hands her the menu. 

“Be right back with your shake.” She looks a little bit more relaxed than when she first arrived, as if something eased her nerves. 

That’s when you notice something is off.  You look around and don’t see any other people occupying the ice cream parlor.  Granted, it was well after 2am, but wasn’t this a 24 hour shop?  And what did she mean by they rarely got people at this hour anymore?  

“Chan…” you start piecing things together.  “How did you find a 24 hour ice cream parlor in this small town?” 

Chan shrugs.  “Google?” he offers. 

Your eyes narrow.  “What did you do?” 

He chuckles, his hands up as he gives in.  “Alright, alright, you got me.” 

“A little persuasion never hurt anyone.” 

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Felix is out of answers.   

His forehead rests against the side of his hand, propped up by his elbow on the desk. Tufts of his ice white hair fluffed out between the fingers he splayed along the crown of his scalp.  He’s been staring at the weathered, yellow pages of an ancient book in Latin for the last three hours, flipping back and forth, trying to bring forth a solution despite his exhaustion. 

Though he surprised himself at how much Latin he remembered, it wasn’t enough to figure out what to do about the curse Edith had damned to anyone who disturbed her remains. The little witch’s bloodline connection added another layer of complexity to how the curse was manifesting itself over the household. 

Hyunjin’s time spent in the isolation and terror of Hell had equipped him with unique perceptive abilities and knowledge.  Unfortunately, coming back to a world that had changed so drastically from the last time he was here, also made him uncomfortable and paranoid.  He knew adjusting was critical to his survival, but it was no easy feat. 

“The Full Moon…it's in two more weeks?” Felix asks aloud, expecting an answer from Jisung, who was seated in the leather wingback chair to the right of Felix’s desk.  The vampire looks up from his book to see Jisung, nodded off, softly snoring.  Felix stands up and comes around from behind the desk, ready to wake him up with a firm smack, when Hyunjin grasps his arm in midair, shaking his head in protest. 

Felix gives him a bemused look, silently mouthing the words, “why not?” 

Hyunjin jerks his head towards the door so they can leave the office and speak privately. Felix follows behind the youngest brother, and they leave the room.  Hyunjin takes care to close the door with a soft ‘click’ before leading Felix outside, onto the porch.  There is still a large, caved in hole off to the right from the last Full Moon, but the crew had other things to worry about and didn’t want to bring anyone you couldn’t trust around the new location. 

This included repair people. 

The scarlet haired vampire pulls a cigarette out from the back pocket of his black slacks. He lights it, taking a long drag. 

“When did you start smoking?” Felix asks, stepping back and waving his hand in front of the face to clear the smoke.  Hyunjin doesn’t react, instead, he takes another drag before flicking the ashes off to the side. 

“If Edith can kill one of us, she gets a free soul and a possible vessel back into the world of the living.” He turns his head, eyes locking onto his brother.  “Did you know that?” 

“What do you mean, how do you know this?” Felix asks.  “How can she kill us if she’s dead?” 

“Its her favorite form of torture.  She can’t kill us, but if she makes our demons eat us from the inside out, eventually one of us will kill the other to find relief.” 

Hyunjin blows out a haze of smoke, ashing once more before he holds the cigarette out in front of him.  He tilts it forward and back, as if seeing it for the first time. 

“We didn’t have these when I was alive…” his voice trails off, but he catches himself.  “I see how humans become addicted.  Brother, my demons want to gnaw off the heads of every one of you.  My demons want blood, they...demand…blood.” Hyunjin takes the final hit before tossing the rest onto the wooden floorboards, snuffing it out with his leather shoe. 

“Smoking gets me away from everyone else and gives me some kind of relief—but it's a foolish human method of escapism, and it won’t keep me from losing control. I’ve been training more, hoping it would alleviate the rage. Each night, it gets worse, like a burning in the pits of my stomach that I can’t fill.  Jisung hasn’t slept in almost a week.” 

Felix takes in his brother’s words, letting them carefully land before processing it all.  He noticed footsteps in the daytime from Jisung’s room.  The ancient witch had set up an altar to his ancestors and spent hours praying at it, searching for answers.  He was rather withdrawn, but Felix thought it was because of how deeply he was affected by circumventing death again. His conjure capabilities still hadn’t come back to 100%. 

“That doesn’t make sense, why would he stop sleeping?” 

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows with a small shrug.  “He says he thinks his ancestors want him to find it and end it…whatever ‘it’ is, he can’t seem to explain to me.” 

Felix feels a sense of dread pouring over him.  “He’s hallucinating…shit, Hyunjin, what do we do? We could survive each other, sure, but Jisung and the little witch would have no chance here. She got far into the forest, and I still found her...” His mind begins racing, flooding with new thoughts.  The idea hits almost instantly. 

“We have to find a safe place for them, far away from here.” he says. 

“No, they have to find one.  If we know about it, who knows if we’ll go looking for them if we lose control.” Hyunjin corrects his older brother. “That goes for Christophe, who I have a feeling won’t be happy about it.”  Felix feels a flash of admiration and appreciation for the intelligence of his sibling.  It was helpful to have someone else to fill in the blanks. 

“Last full moon you had bloodlust, how do you feel now, brother?” Hyunjin asks, his hands in his pockets. 

Felix slowly shakes his head.  “I feel fine.  I feed in town, no hunger at the moment.”  

“Other than the hunger…how do you feel…brother.” Hyunjin asks again, with a little more emphasis.  Felix looks up at him, hesitating in his voice before he speaks. 

“I can’t stop looking for a cure.” he says, for the first time aloud, ever.

Felix had been cooped up in his office, which was a pretty normal thing, but lately, he also was choosing to opt out of daytime death on some days, feeling the urge to pore over demonology and hexes to the point of hunger exhaustion.  If he were being honest, with each day, it had him visiting town more often than he’d like, because of the energy he would spend trying techniques with Jisung that would weaken him significantly.  His hunger wasn’t out of control, no, but he had indeed lost control of something. 

“I can’t say it's a bad thing though, we want to break this before it breaks us, right?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head.  “That’s the thing brother, its already breaking us.” 

Felix has heard enough, and he turns on his heels, his hand clasping over the door frame as he pauses before heading back inside. 

“Then we break back until we are broken.”  

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ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ?

#uninvited #unhinged #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #skz au #stray kids au #bangchan au #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader #felix fic #christopher bang fic #jisung fic #han jisung au #felix x reader #vampire felix #vampire skz #wolf bangchan #hybrid chan #hyunjin au #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin vampire #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fic #bang chan fanfic #lee felix fic #felix fanfiction

[abronzeagegod]

Dead Letters, Missing Wife

Dead Letter #0 & 1 Marriage Certificate and 'Come Find Me'

[a cleaned up and longer version of this post and prompt]

You had just turned 18 over the weekend. Reaching the age of majority or whatever. Sunday birthdays are whatever, you have the day off of school and responsibilities but the looming threat of Monday hangs over the entire day.

At least with this Monday you have the joy of looking forward to belated birthday letters and things being delivered to you since the mail doesn't go on Sundays.

Sure enough after school there was a small stack of letters for you.

Grandma, aunts, uncles, your one weird cousin that lives in the mountains.

All birthday wishes and greetings. I was nice.

Then there was a large, thick envelope that said, "Department of Recognition, Vows, and Contracts."

You carefully tear along the edge of the large envelope and open it. Two things are there. One is something that looks like what you imagine your eventual college diploma would look like. Thick, impressive paper that almost feels laminated, some kind of fun calligraphy across it. There was also a piece of paper.

The paper was forgotten about at first.

The certificate, was a marriage certificate. For you and your first crush, your best friend at 6 years old, Siobhan.

There was your name and Siobhan Winters.

"This certificate recognizes the wedding vows exchanged between these two parties as complete and binding upon the youngest reaching their age of majority."

The memories come flooding back. You hadn't thought of Siobhan in years. Hell, you haven't even seen them in twice as long.

You were a demanding six year old. It was something about you that you were just adamant that this was how things were and how they were supposed to be. And seeing Siobhan, a cute little kid with long blonde hair that was so blonde it was almost white, big green eyes, and just this quiet demeanor to everyone but you, of course she was the one that you figured out what the terms "crush" and "fall in love" and everything meant. Those words were just words, descriptions of parents and grandparents and why they were together for so long, but Siobhan was the person that made the definition real and gave it tangibility and form for you.

She was your best friend but that wasn't quite enough for you at six years old. You dragged her to the pond out back of the neighborhood. The pond was on the edge of a small wood, really nothing more than a copse of trees and wilderness in the suburban sprawl, but it felt like a great and terrible wood when you were that small.

You donned a veil because there was something Traditional, and Correct, about hiding your face from your best friend/crush. You didn't have a ring but you did spend your allowance on candy at the corner shop, and in your haul were two candy rings.

There were somethings about weddings that you know, but you don't know much.

You know there was a veil, that was very important. You know there were rings. You know there were vows and witnesses.

There were vows, you know that for a fact. You just can't quite remember, now, what they were. Siobhan said them with such gravitas and meaning and weight to them that you still feel the shivers up your spine when you think about it.

The frogs were your witnesses.

The ring pops were the binding rings, exchanged with words of devotion.

Siobhan lifted your veil, and pulled you into a hug.

As far as the two of you were concerned, you were married!

The frogs croaked in happiness.

Apparently, the Department of Recognition, Vows, and Contracts also thought that the marriage was real. And as the younger of the two, you were the last one to reach the age of majority, and the marriage certificate was mailed to you.

As if that answered any questions.

The nostalgia calls after you and you want to remember Siobhan as they were and not the hazy memories of childhood.

You immediately start digging through your old year books, or whatever the grade school equivalent of a year books was.

It was only then that you recall that Siobhan never made it to picture day in kindergarten.

Nor did she make it to picture day the year after, or the year after, or any year until she moved away in sixth grade.

Puzzled, intrigued, and now even more confused, you head downstairs where you find your mom working hard on a crossword puzzle.

"Hey, what's a four letter word for black and white?" she asks.

"Oreo," you answer without really thinking about it. "Hey, do you remember my friend Siobhan? From kindergarten and grade school?"

Your mom finishes filling in your answer, looking pleased with herself for having most of the puzzle finished. "Was that the weird one with the cape and the glasses?"

"No, that was Steph."

"Oh yeah, she really loved random trivia, didn't she?"

"Yup."

"Siobhan was the one that was always looking for dinosaur bones in everyone's backyard?"

"That's Joel. No, Siobhan. She came over all the time, we would go play in the backyard, and went to the park together like every day. You didn't like her dad like at all. One day after kindergarten I demanded that I was gonna make her my wife and did a little ceremony out by the pond."

"Oh! Right!" Your mom looks up at you, lost in memory for a second. "Lived across the street, wild black hair, always asked if we had Cheetos."

"No. Mom. That was Matt. Siobhan. Cute kid, always seemed to be the smallest kid in class. Green eyes that had a look you called 'an old soul with the million yard stare'. Platinum blonde hair that was almost grey in a very long braid all the time."

Your mom makes eye contact with you but she doesn't seem to see you. "You never had a friend like that," she says in a strange, almost monotone.

Confused and a little weirded out, you decide to drop it, and head back up to your room. If you mom wasn't going to help you then perhaps the internet would. You don't like to brag, but you're extremely adept at Facebook stalking and finding people.

One time, at your part time job over the summer, you had a really weird coworker that you only knew for three days, lied about almost everything, and then was fired for being outrageously high on the clock. They claimed that they were getting a job in a small town in Alaska as a Fire Marshall and promptly disappeared.

All you had to find them was their first name and the fact that they worked at the same place you did for a very short amount of time.

It took you only a couple of days to find them. They did not move to Alaska, they went one town over and bounced around between barbacking jobs and running a mildly successful etsy shop.

So you use all the skills that you possess and try to reach out to all sorts of people to find someone with a shared memory of Siobhan. Friends, teachers, people you shared classes with that you'd rather never speak to again.

Every. Single. Response. "You never had a friend like that."

This went from being some weird, intriguing mystery, to something vaguely sinister, and deeply creepy.

No one seemed to remember Siobhan except for you. You remember them now, perfectly. Your first crush. The first person you ever developed feelings for, as real and as deep as any 6 year old possibly could develop.

You remember her vividly. Hugging her was the best. She was shy and didn't like to be touched too much, so when she did let you hug her it was the best. It was like hugging a piece of glass. Sharp, beautiful, and fragile. You always felt that if you hugged her too tightly she was shatter.

There was no way you could let this rest now. No way that you could let this end now.

You call the government office that issued you the certificate of marriage. Or at least. You tried to contact the government office.

The website listed no such department, neither locally nor federally.

You called city hall and they transferred you to a dead line.

Out of desperation you called the post office to see where the letter came from.

"Hello," you say for the fifth time this particular call after being transferred too many times. "I was hoping that you could help me track down who sent me a letter and not transfer me to someone else. I received a marriage certificate with my name and information but I can't find anyone who would have sent this to me, the department seemingly doesn't exist."

The deep, bored, and phlegmy voice asked simply, "And your spouse?"

"Siobhan Winters, I can't find any record of her either!" you say, perhaps too loudly, but your frustration is overwhelming you.

"Oh. You got a dead letter. Undeliverable since Siobhan Winters ain't here. But if your her spouse w can send you all the stuff we got sitting here for her. Do you accept?"

"Yes! Wait. What? What do you mean?"

"Everything will be delivered to you in the next two to three business days, thank you for contacting the Dead Letter Office. You have a pleasant day."

You couldn't do anything else before he hung up. You stare at the phone for a while before putting it down.

All you can do is wait for the dead letters to make it to you.

When the letters finally arrived there were boxes full. At least six boxes full of mail, and a few packages. It would take you, by rough estimate, at least three days to go through it all. Even if half of it was spam mail, it would take forever.

But on top of one of the boxes that you just found outside your front door, seemingly delivered before the sun rose, was a letter. It was addressed to you, sort of.

"To the spouse of Siobhan Winters"

That was you, by all accounts.

The letter was sealed with wax, and seemingly made out of heavy parchment, like some kind of ancient letter.

You opened it first.

"To my love,

I fear I must apologize for a great many things. I never wished to abandon you or break our vows, but there are actions I must take, deeds that must be done, purposes I must fulfill. If you have found this, found me, then I am sure you have many questions.

If you must search me out, then you can find my trail starting at our favorite place.

I love you still. I love you forever.

I still remember our vows and will endeavor to never corrupt or break them.

Please find me.

I miss you.

I need you.

I am so afraid.

Yours till the end of time,

Siobhan Winters"

You carefully fold the letter, and hold it close to you for a second.

It seems like you have to go out and find your wife.

You bring all the boxes inside, carefully put them in your bedroom where space is already running low. Your parents, barely awake and carefully sipping coffee watch you with mild confusion and interest.

"Everything good?" your dad asked as you carried in the last box.

"Mix up with the post office. A bunch of unsent mail finally made it my way," you half explain.

"Ok..."

With all of the boxes in your room you start to unpack and sort them.

There were hundreds if not thousands of spam mail for Siobhan. It seems that the only people that remember her are you and the person in charge of trying to sell HelloFresh boxes.

There seemed to be four serious piles of mail by the time that you finish sorting all six boxes.

The first pile, the biggest one, was spam mail. The one inexhaustible truth in the universe.

They were all addressed to Siobhan Winters, but seemingly were listed under a couple dozen addresses all over the country. There was something there, a code or a pattern in Siobhan's movements. But you don't quite have the brain power to think that one through.

The second pile were bills. None of them were overdue, but just notices for the stopping and starting of service. This felt like a pattern too, one that you could combine with the spam mail to really track where Siobhan had been over the course of the years she's been gone.

But that wasn't the important thing, yet.

Because the third and forth piles were much more interesting, and they were all addressed to "The Spouse of Siobhan Winters".

There were letters, all extremely similar to the first one you opened, all addressed the same, all sealed similarly.

Then there were packages. They were of various sizes but most of them were pretty small.

This was a mystery and an adventure, so you wanted to start at the end. Find Siobhan right away and then work through the rest.

After carefully looking over each letter you see that there were small numbers written on the back of each letter and package, right near the seal.

You couldn't make out the exact details of the seal in the dark purple wax, but you realize that it was probably a tower of some kind with some squiggly line accents.

The last letter, one with the number 60 on it, was the highest one you found, so you opened that one first.

Answers to start, adventure later.

"My love,

There is an order and a reason for this. It may be difficult, and it may change you in ways that you cannot see or predict. I say this now, here, that the road is long and difficult, for the better and the worse, and the changes are fundamental and total and incomprehensible until you go through it.

I do not want to discourage you from this journey.

I want you to be prepared.

You cannot remain, the act of searching has already started and changed you. There is no going back.

If you stop I would not blame you, nor would I intrude upon the peace you would inevitably seek and find. I would weep for the loss.

If you do wish to continue, you must know that there is an order, a reason, and a pattern to the journey. You cannot jump to the end, even though I recall you desperately reading the last chapters of books in school because you needed to know if there was a happy ending. This is not a story you can skip to the end.

I'm sorry.

The journey will be long and will alter everything for you. In the end there will be a choice, for you to make alone.

I'm sorry that all you have of me are these dead letters. But if you follow them in order, if you undergo the journey with me, after me, you will understand.

Yours for all time,

Siobhan"

You close the letter and sit on your bed.

After all this time she still remembers you so clearly it seemed. You still look up the plot summary of movies and TV shows before you start watching them. You'll spoil yourself left and right on things to make sure that they aren't going to end badly or not be worth the time investment.

It seems that this is not something that you can skip to the end of, this is a journey that you will have to take from the beginning.

There were so many letters and packages.

And you had a feeling that many of these things would have you going to wildly different places.

You grab your bag, stuff in some snacks and a bottle of water, and grab letter number 2.

If this is how it has to be, then you're going to start walking to the old pond where the two of you got married in kindergarten.

i have a kofi

#dead letters missing wife #i have some ideas going forward but before i went further i had to double back and clean some stuff up #work has also been killing me so time is precious #i'm working on like 4 other writing projects at the same time too #my fiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr

[sunflowerabyss]

Charms of Fate: Chapter 6

Pairing: Professor!Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

Warnings: none (if there are, please let me know)

_____________________________________________________

The staff table in the Great Hall was lively with subdued chatter as you hunched over a newspaper, your focus on the article about Sirius Black's reported sighting. The news sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of nervousness and curiosity. Why would Sirius, a notorious figure, be heading toward Hogwarts of all places?

Your gaze shifted to Harry, who sat among the students, absorbed in his own thoughts. The realization struck you like a lightning bolt. That's right. Sirius was Harry's godfather, and it suddenly made sense. He must be coming here for Harry. Concern etched lines on your forehead as fear for Harry's safety gripped you.

Munching on a muffin absentmindedly, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story, fragments missing from the puzzle. Remus' absence didn't go unnoticed, and you missed him terribly, though you understood. Last night was the full moon, hence Snape's unbearably awful timing of interrupting what would have had you kicking your feet the rest of the night in your bed.

A scowl formed on your face as the realization dawned upon you that Snape had managed to disrupt what could have been a pleasant evening. Glancing in his direction, you found him smirking as if he knew what you were thinking about, seemingly pleased with the disturbance he had caused. The satisfaction evident on Snape's face only fueled your annoyance, leaving you to grumble inwardly at the unfortunate turn of events.

As the time drew near to start your class, you picked up the Daily Prophet, intending to scan the headlines before heading to your classroom. The day unfolded predictably until the end of your last class. Amidst the shuffling of students leaving the room, Hermione Granger approached with an urgency in her expression.

Hermione said, "Professor, Snape gave us an essay on werewolves."

Your heart skipped a beat, frozen by Hermione's revelation. However, she wasn't finished.

Hermione continued, "I know about Professor Lupin. I know he's a werewolf. Harry thinks Snape's trying to poison him. He saw Snape taking potions into the DADA classroom."

Feeling the weight of the information, you hastily closed the door and cast a muffling charm. Hermione, seeking confirmation, sat down as you explained that Remus hadn't shared anything about his condition, but you harbored suspicions.

You stated, "I believe he is, but Remus hasn't told me anything. And please, you mustn’t say anything. Not even to Harry and Ron.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief but remained cautious, promising to keep it between the two of you. The conversation continued, with Hermione expressing concern about Snape's true motives.

Hermione asked, "Do you think Snape is really trying to poison Professor Lupin?"

You assured her, "No, it's most likely Wolfsbane. Snape might be many things, but I doubt he'd go that far."

After Hermione left, a surge of rage propelled you to Snape's office. Throwing open the door, you found him muttering something sarcastic.

In Snape's dimly lit office, you confronted him, the air thick with tension.

You exclaimed, "How dare you?"

Snape, looking up with a sneer, retorted sarcastically, "Clearly, the concept of knocking before entering is beyond your comprehension."

You fired back, "I know what you're doing, Snape. Trying to expose Remus, get him fired. What's your endgame?"

Snape leaned against his desk, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Snape replied, "Remus is a danger to this school. A werewolf teaching children—absurd. I'm merely looking out for the safety of the students."

You scoffed, "Safety? More like you're relishing the chance to ruin his life. Why can't you leave him alone?"

Snape retorted, "Leave him alone? A werewolf hides behind the facade of a teacher. I won't stand by and let him endanger innocent lives."

Your anger flared, "You don't care about the students. You just want to satisfy your vendetta against Remus."

Snape, unfazed, remarked, "Vendetta or not, it's the truth. Werewolves are a threat, and Dumbledore should see that."

You shook your head, "This is about your personal bias, Snape. You can't see past your hatred."

Snape's eyes narrowed, "Hatred or not, I won't allow a monster to roam freely in this school."

The heated exchange reached a peak, and it was only Professor McGonagall's entrance that halted the brewing confrontation.

Minerva interjected, looking shaken, "Something terrible has happened. Follow me, both of you."

As you, Snape, and McGonagall left the office, the lingering animosity between you and Snape hinted at the continued tensions yet to be resolved.

You stand in the midst of the chaos. Students were gathered around the slashed portrait of the Fat Lady. You found yourself standing between Minerva and Snape, trying to make sense of the commotion. Dumbledore arrived, his voice cutting through the panic.

"Silence, everyone! Quiet down!" he commanded, his eyes scanning the crowd. "What happened here?"

Amid the murmurs, the Fat Lady, now in a different painting, spoke up with a tremor in her voice. "It was him, Professor Dumbledore! Sirius Black! He attacked me!"

Gasps echoed through the room. Dumbledore's expression darkened as he surveyed the damage. "Are you certain, my dear? Can you tell us anything about his whereabouts now?"

The Fat Lady hesitated before responding, "He's gone, Professor. Fled into the night. I didn't see which direction."

Dumbledore's gaze swept across the room. "Minerva, Severus, (Y/N) gather the students to the Great Hall. I will alert the rest of the staff and the Ministry. We must ensure the safety of everyone at Hogwarts."

As the professors ushered the students away, the realization hit – Sirius Black, the supposed traitor and danger to Hogwarts, was now on the loose within the castle's grounds. Merlin, I wish Remus was here right now.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #hogwarts #jk rowling

[dreamgothgirl]

So She Goes: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

A/N: listen, this is probably going to be so fucking bad but I was high and found an old Lana Del Rey song (Prom Song (Gone Wrong)) which is 1) what you sing and 2) idk it made sense in the moment and I didn’t wanna delete anything :((

So She Goes by Geskle also feels like how Simon would see the reader who’s drunk as shit.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of blood, alcohol, suggestive touches and descriptions, Ghost being confident out of anxiety.

I really hope you enjoy this one, the next will be better! This is something I just couldn’t resist writing even if it was on a whim ÓwÒ”

POC friendly as always 💕

———————————————————————

“Oi! Get back in the truck, you’ll die of cold before a bullet can get you!”

You inhaled bliss while the wind’s veil covered your face in godly euphoria. A wide grin stretched your gorgeously plush and shiny lips from the lip balm you’d rubbed on them. Thick, cold drops of rain showered your body and soaked your black thermal long sleeve. Ghost kept a close eye on you as he drove the truck through the muddying dirt road as the storm’s rain began to cloud his vision.

After finding and examining a stray phone while investigating an abandoned civilian house, you’d taken it upon yourself to have a taste of nostalgia. A comfort you haven’t been able to experience since you were enlisted. Music. A tool to revive your daydreams instead of replacing them with brutal memories. Your special morphine. Tomorrow was said to be a brutal mission. One where Price shouted and prayed for the team to win.

The chances of making it out with no casualties or deaths was incredibly low. It was hard to process at first. You never expected to not get hurt or die…but having it almost being certain for once, even with the best of the best, was the hottest and messiest bullet to ever pierce you.

The boys headed to the bar. A mournful but loud last hoorah. The atmosphere, though melancholy, was as upbeat and hopeful as it could be. You smiled as you listened to Soap and Gaz talk about things only they would really understand. Price and Ghost conversed quietly next to you while the music of the bar filled your hyper sensitive ears and the lights became amplified through your tipsy eyes. 

Feeling a slight wobble, you leaned on Ghost’s shoulder to which he didn’t resist. Instead, he’d protectively wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you firmly. You closed your eyes and smiled, hearing a stupid song you loved way back in high school. It always made you dream of your ‘perfect man’ so vividly that your heart would ache of yearning.

You took in his scent mixed with the smell of the cups of scotch and whiskeys across the bar. It sent a fiery warmth in you that was equivalent to drinking a whole bottle of Ghost’s favorite liquor. You muttered its tune to yourself, “You will never see my face, if you don’t get me out of this place.”

Ghost’s ear perked up a little, thinking he heard you drunkly mumbling. He looked down at you and questioned, “You alright, Y/N?”

You loved when he said your name. He made it a hymn while you wanted to turn his into a sinful choir. The song of the devil’s temptations taking over. Beautiful, glossy e/c eyes stared up widely at him. A look that unexpectedly made his stomach twist and his boxers shift in his pants.

Ghost would never be as grateful as he was now for the mask as his face became flushed underneath. Price looked at you and chuckled, “I think she’s out of it already, mate.”

Ghost nodded as you giggled dumbly and stood up, “I’m fine, thank you,” you began to hum as you covered your mouth from the side and softly sang into the internally panicking man next to you, “I’m leaving, are you coming with me?~”

You can guess where that led.

Now, here you were. Sitting in silence and staring at Simon with dripping features and drunken eyes from the sips of beer you’d taken from a brand new can that was floating around in the truck. His jacket swallowed you as he sat in a thick black turtleneck on the side of the road. The water ahead flooded the dip in the road, creating a pool that the two of you would never be able to go through. He put his half sleeved arm around your headrest, “I’ll have to turn around.”

You pouted slightly, “Mmm. Why’d you turn my music off?”

He hummed, “Because you’re too excited and we’ve heard it 3 times already.”

Your cold fingertips touched his warm, untatted forearm, “So then you know the tune already, right?”

Ghost rolled his eyes as he straightened himself out but paused, “You’ve got to be bloody fuckin’ kidding me.”

Quickly, you turned around in your seat and internally shouted in excitement. The other dip you’d just gone over was flooded as well. You laughed a little and hugged Ghost’s forearm, “I guess we’ll be here for a while then.”

He reached for the walkie on his jacket, placed perfectly between your breast and your shoulder. His face heated again at the thought before you huffed and held his hand, “Why’re you so eager? Are you scared of me or something?”

In a way, yes. He was.

Ghost sighed, “You’re drunk and bloody soaked through to your teeth. If you were sober, I wouldn’t be in such a rush.”

You stared blankly before heavily sighing and straddling his lap. Ghost’s eyes widened as he quickly held your unstable waist, “Th-…The fuck are you doing, Y/N.”

“They say a person’s drunken babble is what they wish they could say sober, Lieutenant. Is that why you’re scared? Because you don’t want me to s-“

“Stop,” Ghost commanded.

Your brows furrowed and your lip pouted in an innocent, begging look, “Why? If you wanted me to, you would’ve thrown me off already and connected with comms. Don’t lie, Lieutenant, it hurts my feelings.”

Ghost’s body tensed as he stared at how your soaked shirt stuck to your body. He could already imagine the beautiful damp sheen covering you from head to toe. He already saw the yearning lust and need in your eyes yet he was praying you couldn’t see it in his. But being a man was bound to be a death sentence in this situation.

You giggled in his ear, something that made his heart melt and his fingers twitch, before whispering, “I can feel you.”

He already felt like he was being edged. Ghost gripped your waist and sighed deeply, “Y/N…we can’t do this. I don’t want to lose you tomorrow. I can’t…I can’t let you give me something I don’t deserve. And not like this, on a whim. That’s not what I want for either of us.”

A heavy weight made your heart sink into your stomach and your nostrils burn. You couldn’t control the warm tears streaming down your cheeks now. Instead of getting off, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your head in its crevice, “Ghost…I understand. But…if we die tomorrow, I want to die happy. Not in agony from gunpowder or watching you sacrifice yourself. You’ve…you’ve always made me happy. It’s you, that’s kept me going. You’re my heaven on earth and all I want in life is for you to tell me all the things you wanna do.”

Ghost didn’t know what to say anymore. He didn’t know wether to touch you, kiss you, or call for help. Never did he allow himself to enjoy the simple pleasures of human life. It was always ruined by the grim thoughts of upcoming missions or what he wanted to do next to appease his past sins or lost comrades. You held his face and stared tearfully, whispering, “If I could run away with you to somewhere better, I would.”

“That’s quite childish.”

You nodded, “Isn’t it? I miss having that freedom. But when I’m with you…,” you sniffled and laughed a little, “You fill me with a childish joy that no one can beat. So, why not let yourself have a little fun, right?...”

Ghost’s heart raced at the tension filling the car. You stared at him while you leaned back against the steering wheel, careful not to set the horn off while you turned the radio back on. He kept a hold on your waist and massaged your hips with his thumbs and mumbled, “You’re fuckin mad.”

You gave a tear stained grin at him as you stretched, letting him paw at your tight stomach, “I haven’t heard this song since highschool. Sorry, I know you’re tired of it but it’s so pretty, y’know?”

Ghost watched you cling to him as you sang. You weren’t a professional but to him, you were quickly becoming his favorite radio. You massaged his hair over his mask while staring into his clear, stormy blue eyes. If the sun was out, you were confident the skies would be in his eyes like the world you always saw in them.

You stroked and traced every art piece on his tattooed forearm as you sang with the radio, “I know that they think I’ve come undone. But I’m in love, I wanna run run run away,” sweetly you spoke against his covered lips as your forehead pressed against his, “I’m leaving, are you coming with me?”

Without really thinking Ghost stroked your cheek shyly, afraid you’d shatter under his touch, and chuckled breathlessly, “If I knew you back then, I’m not too sure I’d be here.”

You hummed, “I’d rather fight with you than wait. I can take care of you here. And love you all you want.”

Ghost’s brow twitched as he quickly looked into your eyes, “you…what?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “I love you, Ghost. You think some horny friend would say what I said just to say it? Really?”

He stayed silent while you turned the radio down and skipped to a new song. A soft string of acoustic cords softly rang through the truck. You spoke with a blank face and slowly pulled up the bottom of his mask after he nodded, “I’m not gonna force or beg for anything from you,Simon. But if we die tomorrow…I want you to know I always cared about you.”

Ghost’s heart felt like it was going to pop from the amount of emotions he was feeling all at once. An overwhelming mix of confusion, disbelief, hope, shock, and a desperation for you to stay like this. For both of you to stay just like this. There was no tomorrow. No death. And for once in his life, there was peace. Temporary peace. But peace.

The use of his real name rolling off your tongue almost made him feel like he’d been reborn again. A new man determined to protect than avenge. A weight was lifted off of his shoulders, now being replaced with the comforting warmth and weight of your body instead of the world.

He remained silent. You closed your eyes, “Have you ever been kissed?”

Ghost bit back a small smile, scared you’d be weirded out, “Have you?”

You chuckled, “No. Not by you.”

This time, he did let it slip. Your eyes widened and a sleepy looking grin filled his body with an intense heat, “You can smile. It’s beautiful.”

Simon’s hand cradled the back of your head while the other remained at your damp torso, “Not as beautiful as you.”

When you woke up, you squinted at the sunlight burning your face. You looked around, noticing the sandy planes around and ahead of you. You quickly looked over at the drivers side and shot up at the missing body.

“GHOST?!”

Just when you shouted, your door whipped open while a large skull faced man pulled you out, “I’m here, love. There’s a vehicle heading our way right now. Lets get ready for them.”

You furrowed your brow and looked around, relieved but breathless, “What…happened?”

Ghost stared through his binoculars in the truck’s trunk, “You fell asleep on me. Got a headache?”

Confusion contorted your features, not feeling even a tinge of pain, “Actually…I don’t…?”

Ghost nodded, “Good. I snuck some hangover medicine into you. Did you know you sleep with your mouth open?”

“WHAT?!”

“They’re here.”

His nonchalant statement was all you could think of as you sat by his side in the infirmary room. His blood on your face while your own stained his bicep.

#fan fiction #comfort #ghost is babygirl #mw2 2022 #ghost brain rot #military #music #gaming #video games #sappy i know #idc if it’s cringe it’s cute #drunken #rainy romance #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod #fluff

[ilovedilfs4ever]

It’s A Little Salty. (Based on salt challenge)

Pairing : Husband!Toto Wolff X reader

WC: no.

Warnings : none! Just fluff. (Really bad ending I can never do endings I’m sorry)

Note : Susie does not exist in this fiction. (I’m sorry I love her too (slightly more than toto 🤭)) Also once again, do not plagarize or copy my work in any way! Thank you.

@kii-003 I summon thy to help me with any corrections or improvements (tysm 🫶)

—————————————————————————

“Toto, could you help me try out some of this pasta sauce that I've made? It's the recipe from your nonnie’s recipe book, she told me about it the other day,” You asked across the kitchen also whispering under your breath “I should probably have some fun pranking you while I’m cooking too.” Laughing quietly.

The kitchen led to the living room, where the man you loved for years had been sitting, laptop on his lap and legs sprawled on the couch. Along with the little furry cat that had found its way into both of your lives, purring every time she had her ears scratched by the busy Austrian.

“Coming, Schatzi,” he replied. “One second, just let me finish this email.” as he typed quick and swiftly with those thick and lengthy fingers which also happen to have a gold band on it while yours had a nicely sized diamond on it. Finding this as the perfect time to quickly add the salt to the spoonful of pasta sauce before blowing on it to ensure it won't burn his mouth. Upon hearing footsteps thumping into the lively abode, you gave a quick peck to his cheek before he slithered his hands around your waist and rested his head on top of yours.

“The sauce remember?” you chuckled. Nodding his head, the smell of the pasta sauce hit his nose when you opened the pot of bubbling nostalgia. “Smells the exact same as how my nonna would have made it.” Grinning proudly at his response, you gave the spoonful of sauce a nudge at his lips before he slurped it up, not knowing what's going to happen next.

Trying his best to not choke over the sodium-loaded sauce and keep a poker face, he barely choked out “Schatz, I think it’s a little salty, maybe add a little more water?” Not being able to handle it anymore, you burst into laughter as his face contorts into a sour expression. After regaining his posture, he asked “What’s so funny?” He asked as he grabs a glass of water to sip on after the unpleasant ordeal that he had to face. “Nothing, maybe just a small salt prank?” You replied while bursting into laughter, feigning offense, he pretended to faint, which failed miserably as it just looked like he slipped on ice.

“I feel hurt by your actions, but I think you can apologize by giving me a kiss.” Smirking like a fool. “Alright, only because I love you, you big baby.” You replied while walking over to him and wrapping your hands around his neck before kissing him, which resulted in him kissing back passionately. Pulling back after awhile in order to get some air, he replied to what you said earlier “But I’m your big baby.” Sticking out your tongue and rolling your eyes, you said “that’s so cheesy ew, old man.” lightly hitting his chest where your hands had been placed on.

Faking a sad face, he gave a quick smack to your ass before scurrying back to the couch where he resumed his work, the sudden action making you yelp. Walking back to the stove, you turned off the heat and let the pot of pasta sauce and pasta cool while you walked into the living room and made yourself comfortable,cuddling with your furry baby and the love of your life. “This may be the perfect little family” you thought, who knows maybe there was another member on the way? ;)

#toto wolff #imagine #toto wolff x reader #f1 #f1 fluff #slightly suggestive #;) wink wonk

[bitchfitch]

There was someone in the room with him. Evan laid on his side, his hands cold, his throat dry and throbbing. The alarm clock glowed red. He breathed, he focussed on the tips of his fingers barely visible on the pillow in front of his face. There was someone climbing onto the bed behind him. He needed to make his hand twitch. He needed his body to wake.

"Hello, My Knight," a sing song voice cut through the pitch dark. If Evi breathed, Evan would be able to feel it against the shell of his ear. "It's been so long since you let me visit."

A wave of familiar nostalgia washed through him like a riptide stealing a child under a pier. He needed to wake up before it drowned him.

He felt the bed behind him move, Evi climbing over him to lay in front of him instead of behind. His bubblegum pink hair and wine bottle green skin cut through the dark like they laid in broad daylight.

"Oh look at you. So... Mature now." Evi purred, brushing his fingers along Evan's jaw. The cold porcelain gliding over the patchy beard Evan hadn't cared to shave in days. "and Look at me!" Evi held his hand out, the crazed white of his new segmented limb being so bright that it burned. He sat up, tracing the fingers of his other new prosthetic up the thick matt of sea glass scarring on his handless arm.

"You've grown up and I've been dismembered." Evi is knelt on the sheets, his vibrant teal eyes inches from Evan's a single blink later. "How'd That happen? How's my story gone since you left me in the dust?" his voice was as bright as it was accusing.

"My knight left and now my kingdom has fallen. The evil witch shattered me. Your sweetest dream Broken. And you never came back to save me." He laid back down beside Evan, hurt beginning to edge in along his words as the lull of sleep started to turn the darkness grey.

"How could you do that to me? I was your muse. All those songs you wrote about me? They made you richer than god. And when fame got too much, when you couldn't bare the weight of the world looking at you but not seeing you, I was there. I kept you alive.

"It wasn't my fault you got so confused sometimes. The alcohol, your meds, it's no wonder you mistook one window for another," Evi pet his fingers through Evan's hair.

"So why'd you leave me to be forgotten? I thought you loved me?"

Evan blinked his eyes open. Evi was beside him still but the room was bright with morning.

He sat up in bed, his shoulders heavy with plate and chainmail. The soft shiny pink of Evi's castle made orange by sunrise.

"Evan?" Evi followed him to their window. The land beyond unfurling piece by piece as it settled back into existence.

"It was mistake," Evan said, his voice feeling alien in his own throat. He hadn't been able to speak a word since the tumors were removed. He stepped out of the window standing on air as he held his hand out to his once upon a time best friend.

"A mistake to leave?" Evi asks.

"A mistake to come back."

#evi #evan

[idkyetxoxo]

Eleven | Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

"You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?"

"Just admiring the view."

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

As we ventured onward towards Mercia, Finan couldn't seem to resist throwing me flirty glances. His playful eyes danced with mischief, hinting at secrets shared and unspoken promises.

The rest of the group, keen observers as they were, couldn't help but pick up on the subtle shift in our dynamic. Their knowing glances and suppressed smiles spoke volumes, betraying their awareness of the unspoken connection brewing between Finan and me. Yet, despite their curiosity, they maintained a respectful silence, perhaps recognizing the delicacy.

"Stop eyeing each other like that it's distracting," Sihtric finally quipped, breaking the tension with a hint of amusement in his voice. His words, though light-hearted, carried a hint of acknowledgement, acknowledging the chemistry that crackled between Finan and me.

The echoing sound of approaching horses and men abruptly shattered the tranquillity of our travels. Reacting swiftly, I drew my sword, wincing as I applied pressure to the wound on my leg to quell the sharp pain provoked by the sudden movement.

Dismounting from my horse, I nearly stumbled, struggling to regain my footing. Sihtric's assistance steadied me, for which I silently expressed gratitude.

"Uhtred, far from home," Haestan's voice greeted us, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the predictable encounter. Tuning out his ensuing chatter, I fought the urge to scoff as he extended an invitation to join him and his men.

"Once, I aspired to conquer Mercia and Wessex for myself, but now all I desire is a woman to bed and land to claim," Haestan remarked, prompting an involuntary groan from me. The crude discourse of men regarding women in this era never failed to evoke exasperation.

Haestan's attention shifted to me upon hearing my groan. "Ah, Uhtred's fierce female warrior," he taunted, to which I retorted, "I have a name," under my breath, met with a feeble laugh from him. "Do you object to my pursuit of a woman and land?" he prodded further.

Suppressing a laugh, I met his gaze squarely. "I pity any woman who's ever had to be under you," I spat, eliciting a grunt from him. "She's spirited, this one," he remarked to his men, who chuckled in agreement, evidently pleased with their banter.

However, Haestan's next remark provoked Uhtred's wrath, leading to a confrontation wherein he likened Aethelfled to a squealing pig. Only upon divulging Cnut's involvement in his brother's death did Uhtred spare him.

"Tie the boys up," Uhtred commanded as one of Cnut's sons attempted to escape while the other attacked Finan.

I moved to assist Finan and Sihtric in restraining the resisting youths, enduring a sharp pain as one elbowed me in the stomach, reopening my wound and staining my clothes with blood.

I made a conscious effort to conceal the sensation of pain coursing through me, the crimson splatter staining my clothes serving as a grim reminder. Despite the agony gnawing at my insides, I resolved to press forward, unwilling to burden the group with any further delays.

Our next destination was Aeglesburg, upon arrival, I dismounted clumsily, prompting Finan's immediate concern. As he helped me to a secluded area, I explained how one of Cnut's sons had injured me, though I had chosen not to burden the group with my ailment. 

With careful precision, he gingerly lifted my top, exposing the wound, while deftly tearing a piece of cloth with his teeth. His hands worked skillfully, knotting the fabric around my waist to apply pressure, his fingers inadvertently brushing against the tattoo adorning my ribs.

"Another one?" he inquired, his gaze curious as he noted the inked script. I nodded in affirmation, explaining, "It reads 'grateful.' It's a sentiment I once cherished, a reminder to appreciate all that life offers," I replied, feeling a pang of nostalgia as his fingertips traced the intricate design.

"I have one more tattoo," I revealed, noting his growing curiosity. "Care to share?" he inquired eagerly, only to be met with a shake of my head. "That one remains hidden," I confessed playfully, amused by his reaction. He groaned in mock frustration, jesting, "Don't tease me, woman," as my laughter echoed in response to his feigned exasperation.

Returning to the group, we learned of Uhtred's ruse to intimidate Cnut by 'killing' one of his sons. Despite their father's villainy, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for the distraught children.

Approaching the boys, I offered comforting words, gently brushing their tear-streaked faces. Observing from a distance, Uhtred voiced his concern to Finan about my well-being.

His words spilt forth with a depth of emotion that had long been buried. "I've known her for years," he began, his voice carrying the weight of countless shared experiences. 

"She's endured trials that would break most, yet she's emerged resilient, becoming one of my dearest friends." Uhtred's gaze softened, betraying the vulnerability beneath his stoic exterior. 

"I can't bear to see her suffer any more pain," he confessed, his words carrying the weight of a heartfelt plea to his friend, urging him to tread carefully in whatever endeavour lay ahead.

Across from him, Finan stood with arms folded, his expression a mixture of understanding and silent solidarity, nodding in quiet acknowledgement of his friend's plea.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

I had been given strict orders to stay at the back of the battle at Tettanhall. The reasoning was that I wasn't yet fully healed or prepared to rejoin the fray, and truth be told, I didn't put up much of a fight against the decision.

The thought of plunging back into the chaos of combat, of taking lives once more, still unsettled me but despite my reservations, I was determined to stand by my only family and offer whatever support I could.

Now, as I sat beside a babbling stream with Uhtred, young Uhtred, Stiorra, Finan, Osferth, Sihtric, Aelfwynn, and Aethelstan, I watched as Finan and Aethelstan attempted to navigate a makeshift boat crafted from tree bark. Witnessing Finan's gentle demeanour towards the child stirred something deep within me, igniting a warmth I hadn't felt in some time.

Overhearing Stiorra and young Uhtred engaged in conversation as she tossed something into the water, I approached them, taking a seat beside Stiorra.

"What are you two up to?" I inquired, a fondness evident in my tone as I wiped a smudge of mud from Stiorra's cheek. She beamed up at me, her smile reminiscent of her mother, Gisela, stirring memories of a friend dearly missed.

"I missed you," she confessed sweetly, prompting a reciprocal admission from me. Catching Finan's eye, I found relief in his smile as Stiorra's gaze flitted between us, her own grin infectious.

"You and Finan?" she probed, her curiosity bubbling forth. I nodded in confirmation, but her next question caught me off guard.

"Have you humped yet?" she blurted out, causing me to hastily cover her mouth, shooting her a warning glance. "If your father catches wind of that kind of talk, he'll have our heads," I chided softly, though Stiorra merely shrugged, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips.

"No, we haven't," I whispered, meeting her gaze with a sense of vulnerability. "We simply haven't found the time to properly discuss what this... us, means." Stiorra nodded understandingly, her youthful wisdom shining through.

"Well, I'm happy for you, you deserve someone good," she offered sincerely, her words carrying a weight far beyond her years, she had grown to become an incredibly intelligent young woman.

Grateful for her unwavering support, despite her youth, I expressed my gratitude before making my way toward Finan and Aethelstan.

"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" I inquired, catching a quick nod from the boy before tousling his hair affectionately. Meeting Finan's gaze, I noticed his lingering stare, his eyes seemingly fixed on me.

"What?" I asked, curious about his intent as his gaze held steady. "Just admiring the view," he replied with a playful smirk, prompting a lighthearted roll of my eyes in response.

"You've got quite the smile," he remarked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Caught off guard but charmed by his candour, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. "Thanks," I replied, a hint of laughter in my voice.

Undeterred, Finan continued, his words casual yet subtly flirtatious "and those eyes of yours can't help but find myself lost in them."

"You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?" I quipped, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, as he winked playfully and repeated, "Just admiring the view."

Without another word, Finan closed the distance between us, and we shared a quick but profound kiss. 

As we parted, there was a lingering warmth, a shared acknowledgement. A gentle smile played on our lips, and I turned away, heading towards Aelfwynn, leaving Finan behind. 

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

I kinda wanted her tattoos to have like a more important meaning but then I got lazy 😫

Tag list - @jasontoddorjasongrace

#aethelflaed #alfredthegreat #danes #england #finan #finantheagile #finantheagilexreader #finanxreader #historicalfiction #love #osferth #ragnar #saxons #sihtric #sihtrickjartansson #thelastkingdom #tlk #tlkxreader #uhtred #uhtredofbebbanburg #uhtredragnarsson #vikings #xreader #thelastkingdomxreader #tlkff

[ipsen]

Off the Grid

For @chertpole for the @tgpairup event! I gave them some AriEto to chew on, and you can too! Enjoy the meal :]

Eto had never been one for nostalgia.

She had always been too busy, too focused on other things to look backwards. The past was a place of pain, of longing, and of what would never be again. It was not a source of strength, but evidence of weakness. Only by looking forward could she grab an inkling of the strength she sought.

And yet, the moment her feet touched mainland Tokyo, she went here: the old shrine where it all began.

It had long since fallen into disrepair; it was on no map in the first place, and no one who knew about it bothered to tell. She remembered being attracted to it for that very reason. After all, she was similarly discarded. With her mother dead, her father had seen fit to discard the very thing that reminded him of his failure, and a tool was no longer necessary when everything was fixed. In occupying it as a fellow forgotten one, they would remember each other.

It was stupid, really; places never remembered the people that trampled upon it, but foolish girls were wont to dream.

Eto traced the branch of one of the trees, which had grown tall and strong these past thirteen years. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, and it towered above her, when before it was but a mere sapling, under threat of being crushed on a whim. Not only that, but its roots had finally broken the stone before the shrine, the spot where her world finally began to turn.

Time really did fly; being here now, she almost remembered the scene like it was yesterday. Her, missing an arm and collapsed in a heap within her kakuja. The shrine, broken from the weight. And then, suddenly—

“You’re here.”

Eto looked up and, upon seeing who it was, smirked. There was only one person who could sneak up on her like that, and as the years went by, she minded it less and less.

Seeing him here, it almost made her think the past had caught up to her, but she knew that wasn’t true. There were little differences to this new old meeting that made it so. Stark white hair instead of a nightshade blue. Her own hair, grown into a wild mane. An eye that couldn’t see anything anymore, and hers that had to squint when reading text on a book.

“Kishou Arima,” she said with a mirthless giggle. “Come to bask in your glory days?”

“No,” he said simply, as flat as ever. “I was just on my way to the 23rd.”

It was a little frustrating, to be honest, how little she could get out of him, but at the same time, that veil— or rather, that wall— was a comfort. The idea that there would always be something she could never truly understand, that there would always be something more to discover— It kept her going on some days. It meant she could keep digging, keep searching, keep fighting, and there would still be more. The Sysyphian assurance of an expected, if infinite, battle.

“And you?” Arima brought Eto out of her thoughts. “Why?”

The nostalgic question made her scoff. There were many people who asked similar things, but he was the only one she answered. “You’re asking that now? Are you truly so—”

“I am,” he interrupted. “Why?”

His gaze was unwavering, but a trick of the light made her think that there was a twinkle to them. Maybe, deep down in his empty void for a soul, he was actually amused. She chuckled at the prospect, then decided to indulge it. “I’ve just come back from Rushima, and I got a call that my editor is being ‘interrogated’.”

“By who?”

“You know who.” She didn’t have to say the name. “He had that look, you know. Almost reminded me of you.”

Arima paused. “He’s begun reading your work again. They remind him of himself, it seems.”

“So I noticed. And you? What do you think of them?”

He shrugged. “They’re wordy.”

She rolled her eyes at that. He never was one to talk at length, even about books, which he supposedly liked. Even now, where the end for them was in sight, he did not waver in this.

“Anyway,” she shrugged, “cutting through here is faster to get to where he is.”

It was a lie, just like Arima’s reason. This place was far too out of the way to justify coming here, regardless of destination; that was why Eto had chosen it in the first place. However, neither of them called the other out; they knew without saying.

“You’ve made your decision, then?” she asked, as if she even needed to.

He nodded. “The raid’s set to happen soon, and Squad 0 will be guarding Cochlea.”

“I feel safer already.” She smiled, but it faded soon enough. “It will be difficult for him.”

“He’ll succeed,” Arima said, and he almost sounded reassuring. “I’ll make him.”

“So you will.” A chuckle. “You always were one to force things.”

“Better than never letting things happen at all.”

“Hmph.”

Forcing things— that was the way of the One-Eyed King. Forcing his way to the top, clambering over the corpses, and creating a living legend that ghouls all over Tokyo despaired over. To supplement it, Eto became the Owl, his shadow, to give humans a reason to cling to him and justify their needless killing. She ate and ate and ate, taking the corpses and creating a shawl with which to conceal herself.

However, the thing about despair was that hope could just as easily be born from it. Were someone to topple that legend and create something new of it, ghouls would suddenly have a shining beacon of hope to look toward, and they would finally be willing to fight for their existence, finally be willing to live and not just survive. Not only that, but the humans who killed ghouls would finally be forced to turn inward and face the truth of the matter: they were played for fools.

But the thing about toppling such a legend was that it required a sacrifice. One unique sacrifice, and that, in and of itself, almost made it precious.

Eto stared at the coveted object as he turned on his heel and walked away. The way he still refused to really and truly look at her, even after thirteen long years, told her that there was still something he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter, of course; things were only ever going to end this way. The two of them were only cracks in the shell, crumbling in on themselves so that the real king could crawl out to the other side. Neither of them were strong enough on their own, nor did they have the tools or background to see it through themselves.

Still, they would try, and someone else, someone better, that made up the best parts of them, could do it when they couldn’t. They could find someone like that, surely, and they had. A miracle, not lying on cold concrete, but shining and flying through the sky. As his predecessors fell into the abyss and closed their eyes to that sparkling beacon, they would go satisfied, knowing it wasn’t all for nothing.

Despite that, though, as Eto watched Arima, she wondered if things could be different. If he could find— or rather, if he could see a way where he didn’t choose death over the world. Where he survived, and continued the fight. Would that result in a better outcome? If the Reaper turned his blade on the strings keeping him down instead of going limp in their grasp, could things change?

… No. No, they couldn’t; he had come too far down his bloody path to try and pave a new one. Much like her, a bloody cannibal who couldn’t find the bottom of her own stomach, he had piled up a tower of corpses far too high to topple it over now. They were monsters, simple as that. They, who took lives on a whim, were not worthy of seeing the new world, nor should they be allowed to fight any longer than they had to. Death was just as much a part of life as living was, and so they would entrust their legacy to their successor— their better.

Their king.

Still, if death was to be their fate, she wanted to try something out. She wanted to leave nothing unsaid, and as much as she hated to admit it, this was one of them. With a step and a call, she spoke a single word:

“Kishou.”

He paused halfway down the road. She waited for a reaction, for anything, really. She didn’t fully understand why she wanted to say what she said; she just knew she had to say it before the coming end. It felt strange saying it, but it had to be said.

Perhaps a part of her wished for him to turn around, and in doing so, change his mind. Change his path. Because if he could, so could she. In saying his name, she was positing a question: could they defy the death that would inevitably catch up to them? Was there a world where miscreants like them could exist together?

A gust of wind blew through the area, and leftover dew on the tree leaves, like blood, slipped off and hit the ground. Eto stared at the white back of his coat as she waited. Always, she waited.

It felt a little ridiculous. What exactly was she waiting for, anyway? It wasn’t like changing what she called him would cause him to turn around and— and what? Smile at her? Touch her? Kiss her?

She frowned. That sort of thing wasn’t possible for people like them. They shouldn’t— they couldn’t seek something like that. There were always bigger, more important things than trash like them.

Eto wet her lips in the silence.

She wanted him to turn around. So, so badly. She wanted him to turn around and run back to her, enthusiasm, anticipation, and joy springing him forth instead of emptiness, anger, and despair. She wanted him to gather her into his arms and hold her like she was the world, like she was the only thing that mattered. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, desperate and longing for the touch of someone who knew his greatest secret, from someone he had bared his heart to, even if only slightly.

She could be that person. She could touch him like he wanted to, and he could do the same to her. They would fit quite well together, she imagined, like pieces of a broken puzzle. Two terrible souls who, at the bottom of the barrel, had found each other. It could work, if she were more delusional and presumptuous than she was.

Fortunately, her feet did not obey her misguided and silent desire; they stayed planted, waiting as they always did. Arima also seemed to remember himself, and continued walking as though she hadn’t said anything at all. All began to fit itself back together. He walked, she watched, until she was alone again.

With a practiced sigh, she shrugged off the heartache.

#tg #tokyo ghoul #eto yoshimura #kishou arima #arieto #tgpairup23