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missnxthingg · 2 days

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Actress!Reader (Enemies to Lovers & Fake Dating AU) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando Norris really messed up on the first time meeting one of Hollywood’s newest and hottest stars, Y/N L/N. But when his reputation gets too bad, she might be the only one who can save his career from being completely doomed. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.6K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - Swearing, mentions of sex, angst 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - Very very sorry for the delay! Life was a mess and I needed to get things in order. It's coming to an end 🥺 last one will be the last chapter, but let's enjoy while it lasts. Also, this one is for all of us Lando girlies who love to see him succeed in Interlagos!

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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

The morning after the fight was a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. She woke up feeling cold, the covers kicked to the bottom of the bed, and no one lying next to her. By now, waking up next to Lando felt familiar and too comfortable for her liking. She had grown fond of having him pressed against her every morning, his arms draped around her waist and his nose buried in her neck. It felt weird to not have him next to her when she opened her eyes. And then she remembered why he wasn’t there.

She really wished she could go back to sleep and pretend the previous night hadn’t happened.

Y/N wrapped herself around the covers once again and groaned, feeling almost like a truck ran over her body the previous night. She could blame it on the only margarita she had the night before, but she knew she could only blame the fight she had with Lando. The memories of them confessing their feelings for each other was almost too painful. It was killing them; and maybe it was for the best to call off their “relationship”, if they could even call it that.

As most days in November in Brazil, it was bright and sunny outside, but Y/N was convinced it was for the best if she stayed in for the entire day. Maybe she could catch up on her watching list on Netflix, order junk food and cry her heart out while no one was watching. After all, she was only required to go outside tomorrow, when her PR team asked her to accompany Lando to the paddock during media day.

She managed to not cry just fine so far that morning, but the universe was making it really hard to keep it together. If the emotions weren’t enough, Y/N found out that day that she was nominated for an Emmy Award. It was all over social media, with everyone congratulating her and posting clips of her performance on her latest show. Her phone was blowing up with calls and texts, but she didn’t have the energy to celebrate it.

Suddenly, it all felt too lonely. Y/N had just acquired the biggest conquest of her career, one that she has dreamed of her entire life, and she had no one to celebrate it with. The person she wanted to celebrate with the most was nowhere to be seen. So she cried alone in that hotel room, because there was nothing more she could do. She should’ve been out there celebrating that conquest, but she was weeping for the loss of Lando Norris, of all people in the world.

He wasn’t having the best days himself. After she left, Lando couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep even if he wanted to. He could only think about Y/N leaving their room crying after saying she didn’t trust him; after telling it all went wrong because he could only think about himself. All the work he did to try getting to her heart gone to waste, only because he forgot to apologize.

After a couple of hours after finally getting some sleep, Lando was woken up by knocks on his door. Max had come for him after he didn’t answer his phone for the entire morning. His best friend understood what happened almost immediately when he opened the door, his eyes blood shot from crying too much. Lando sighed before crying more, feeling completely powerless with the situation he was trapped in.

“I fucked up”, Lando admitted, completely defeated. “And fuck, I love her so much. But she’s gone”.

Max tried to cheer him up, attempting to get the pieces back together before he was required to be on track, talking to countless journalists about his job. Lando didn’t want to talk about anything with anyone at that moment, only to Y/N if he could. In the end, with all the suffering he was going through, she was the only person he wanted to talk with to make it better.

“It’s not her fault. It’s my fault. All me. I’m always the problem”, he thought, all day. Everybody knows that Lando can get himself down a self depreciation hole, but now he actually knows it was all entirely his fault. So it was a little harder to get him out of there.

He heard of her Emmy nomination later that day, while they were waiting for breakfast at a bakery. Lando felt a boast of energy in his body, feeling so proud of his girl’s achievement. But when he remembered she didn’t want him there to celebrate it with her, he felt sad once again. He had to retreat back to his hotel room, because it was too painful to pretend nothing had happened while he was outside. People were starting to recognize him, and they could all see the sadness painted all over his face. He couldn’t do it anymore.

The first time Y/N and Lando met again after the fight was on the Thursday morning, as they were waiting for a car to pick them up at the hotel to drive them to the track. He felt uneasy to be around her, not getting to exchange a single world to her. She had grown into his best friend over the past couple of months, him always wanting to share everything with her all the time. So when she avoided his eyes like the plague, it hurt him too much.

Still, he wasn’t one to give up so easily. Lando approached her as she was distracted and said what he was dying to say the entire day. “Congratulations on your Emmy nomination. I’m very proud of you”, he kept his voice low, almost as if he was afraid to say those words. Y/N was looking away from him, but her eyes met his once she heard the words. It was as if she was trying to figure out if it was a figure of her imagination or if he was really saying it to her.

He finally got to see how bad she was as well. Lando knew her like the palm of his hand by then, so he could see that she was suffering too. But he saw a little bit of the light come back to her eyes with his words. But as much as she wanted to throw her arms around him and give him the tightest hug, she knew she had to be tough. So she toughened up and gave him the coldest response.

“Thank you”, she nodded, looking the other way the second after. If Y/N stared into his eyes for too long, she would give into him. Only a few words from him were enough to ignite the fire on her heart once again.

“I would like to talk to you eventually”, he said, still facing only the side of her face. Lando watched her close her eyes and hold her breath. She was trying to not cry again. “If you want to, of course”.

“Not now, Norris”, she walked away without even looking him in the face.

It was hard to pretend everything was fine as they walked together in Interlagos, especially with the whole media surrounding them and ready to fire questions if they noticed something wrong. Luckily, since there was no racing happening, Y/N got to stay buried inside the McLaren motorhome until it was time to go back to the hotel once again.

Everybody noticed something was wrong, especially with the look on Lando’s face. His mood was so down that even Zak Brown noticed it. And judging by how Y/N hid herself in the McLaren hospitality until the whole thing was over, he put two and two together. He tried talking to Norris, but Lando kept assuring everything was fine. No one in the team, specially those who knew the relationship was fake, knew what was going on. How did the lovey-dovey couple go from posting cute pictures on social media to no talking in a couple of days?

Impressively enough, the whole thing that happened between Lando and Y/N didn’t affect his performance at all. He secured P2 in sprint qualifying and maintained the position on the sprint race. And if that wasn’t enough, he got pole position for the main race on Sunday. Yet, he couldn’t feel happy about it enough. None of that seemed to matter, because he couldn’t feel joy at all without Y/N.

He could’ve finished in any position – he could’ve won, for that matter – and he would still feel nothing. It hurt too much to receive nothing but an empty “congratulations” and a lifeless hug, just for the cameras to capture. Lando wanted to punch a wall, and he wanted to punch himself for what he did.

Later that day, when he was back at his hotel room with Max, Lando couldn’t control his crying anymore. He had been excellent at not bursting into tears through the past few days, but it was getting too hard to bottle in the feelings, especially when Y/N’s hands felt cold on his as they walked with fingers laced in public. His best friend had to hug him in order to hold him up and not crumble to the floor.

“Come on, mate. You need to stop crying and go get some rest for tomorrow”, Max pleaded, now having Lando sit down in his bed. “I know this whole thing is hard, but I can’t stand to see you this sad when you should be celebrating the perfect weekend you’re having”.

“I think I lost the love of my life, Max. So of course I’m crying”, Lando wiped off his tears, but they kept streaming from his eyes. “I can’t feel happy without her. She’s everything to me, and knowing I fucked her up makes me feel so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid to not apologize to her. I did everything, but forgot the most important part of it all”.

“Have you tried apologizing again?”, Max asked and Lando nodded.

“I said I wanted to talk to her whenever she was up to talking, but she ignored me”, Lando sighed, throwing his back against the bed. “I would do anything to go back in time and fix this”.

“You don’t need to go back in time to fix this”, Max said. “Look, mate, she has admitted having feelings for you, right? So find the right words, put your pride aside and get her back”.

“You don’t know her. She is as hard-headed as I am. No simple apologize will make her forget the dickhead that I am”, Lando said. “And maybe I really don’t deserve her. She needs someone who has never treated her less than the amazing person that she is”.

“Lan…”, Max tried talking again, but his friend needed to vent more than hearing more advices.

“I would do anything to see her happy again, you know? It’s even worse to know she’s suffering too, because I can never get out of my head that it’s my fault. And I could make her so happy if she gave me another chance. I just know it”.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to be hearing those words. Talk to her, tell her everything bottle inside you. This time, remember what I said: find the right words. And if it doesn’t work out, well… you already have nothing. You have to at least try”.

Lando went to sleep that night with Max’s words in his head. Months ago, he vowed he would do anything to make Y/N trust him, and he’s yet to try everything in his sleeves. There’s still one more chance, and he would take all the chances he had to have Y/N back.

When Sunday morning came around, Y/N felt almost hungover with the exhaustion from that week. She dragged herself out of bed for the fifth time that week and put on a sundress to enjoy the nice and warm weather outside. Then after breakfast, she waited at the meeting place in the hotel to get to the paddock, ready to put on her best acting and pretend everything was alright. Today would be crucial, because all the eyes would be on her and Lando through the main event of the weekend.

Through the night, before he fell asleep, Lando thought of a thousand ways to get Y/N to talk to him. And if she was finally going to listen to him, he knew what to say. But all his plans were lost when he saw her standing at the hotel lobby, waiting for the car to take them to the track. He thought of a lot of ways to approach her, but he simply rushed into her encounter. And as if their eyes were magnets, she turned to look at him just a few seconds before the collision. Before she could protest, Lando had her engulfed by his body.

She was taken by surprise with the action, but she was even more surprised to how her body reacted to it. Y/N immediately melted into his touch and let her arms around his shoulder, feeling her chest burning into flames and feeling easy to have him so close. She buried her face in his neck and let all the tears she was holding in for days finally fall in relief.

“I’m so sorry about everything”, he whispered in her ear, holding her a little tighter. “I have so much to apologize to you and the right words to say everything, but so little time right now. I don’t want to go one more second without talking to you, because it's been too much for me. I miss you, Y/N”.

“Lando”, she leaned back and looked between his eyes. Y/N could see how this entire thing has impacted him as well, and it hurt to see him hurt too. So she softly ran one of her thumbs though his cheek and smiled, tired of fighting.

“Y/N”, he encouraged, still too nervous with her response. But he felt a little better to see the smile on her lips once again.

“Go in that car and win this race. For me”, she held his face between her hands and squeezed it carefully, assuring him that they were okay, at least for now. Lando was so happy that he pulled her back to the hug.

“For you, anything”, he kissed her forehead, knowing a proper kiss would be too far. “I promise that after the race, I have so much to talk to you about”.

“Don’t worry about it now, okay?”, she searched for his hands and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll talk later”.

Lando couldn’t let go off Y/N after that. They still were very quiet around each other, but it was a relief to have her hands laced with his all the time. Even better to have his arms wrapped around her as they cuddled in his driver’s room during his break. And you can bet he felt amazing when she pressed a kiss to his cheek before helping put on his balaclava.

“Good luck, Lan”, she whispered in his ear as he pulled him for a hug. “I trust you”.

And with the words he has been waiting for months to hear, Lando went into his car with the boost of confidence he needed. So far, he hadn’t won a race in Formula 1, but he had been so close for a lot of weekends. Always P2, never the winner. But now he had the confidence who could make him pass anyone in front of him. He was going to win for Y/N, just because she asked him to. So when he crossed the chequered flag before any other driver, he felt his entire life flash right in front of his eyes. Every sweat and tears dropped for this moment, who had been a long time coming. All these years had finally paid off.

Once he parked the car, everything moved in slow motion for him. The mechanics pulling him in for a hug, and all the other drivers who came to congratulate him as well. It could be a scene taken out of a film, quite easily. And when Lando saw Y/N standing right next to Zak Brown behind the barricade, he could feel his heart at his mouth. She was drowning in proud tears, applauding him with all of her strength. So he didn’t care about anyone else who was calling his name; he simply approached her and gave her the biggest kiss they ever shared.

It’s been only a couple of days since he had last kissed them, but Lando missed her lips as if it had been a year since he last did it. And with that, he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders, knowing everything was finally alright. His reputation was saved, he had a race win, and he had his favourite girl right there with him. It couldn’t get better than that.

Lando chased her lips once she tried to break off the kiss, not wanting to let go off her yet. But she managed to separate them between giggles. “My P1. I’m so proud of you, Lan, congratulations!”

“I love you”, he mumbled against her lips. “I love you so fucking much”.

Y/N didn’t say it back right at that moment, because there’s still a lot that needed to be said between them before those three words. But she kissed him again, and it said it all. She didn't have to say she loves him because Lando knew it. Looking into her eyes, tasting her on his lips, he knew she felt the same. So he didn’t care about getting no response, because he knew it all in his heart.

“I’ll be back in the blink of an eye. I promise you”, Lando pressed another quick peck to her lips before proceeding with everything he’s required to after the race.

Lando stood on the tallest step of the podium and raised his trophy as high as he could. He splashed his champagne bottle to make a mess on everyone, spotting Y/N on the ground and spraying the liquid far enough to reach her downstairs. He was glowing, and anyone could see that. It showed through the pictures, the interviews, the small talks with people from his team. McLaren made sure the debrief was short so they could all go celebrating the moment that has been a long time coming.

He was ready to party, but there was one more thing left to do.

“You stink of champagne”, Y/N was giggling between his arms. He was spinning her around as they walked into his hotel room, finally having some time along after the race. Nothing could kill the big smile he had stamped on his face.

“Smell it. It’s Chanel”, he joked, pulling Y/N for another kiss. Lando had her pressed against the door once it was close, and it felt too good to have his breath taken away once again by her kisses. He wanted to touch her everywhere just to know she was really there, but once his hands darted under her dress, she stopped him there.

“Not now, Lan. We still have a lot to talk before all of this”, she broke off the kiss, and he agreed with a nod. Suddenly, he was nervous once again, knowing the talk they needed to have had the potential to fix or fuck everything. “Hey, where’s that big smile you were giving me before? I miss it”.

“It is terrified of losing you”, he admitted, making Y/N’s eyes soften for him. She rubbed her thumbs on his cheeks and pouted, making him open a small grin once again. “But you’re right, we need to talk”.

“We don’t need to do this right now, Lando”, she said as he pulled her to sit in bed. He cut her before she said anything else.

“But I want to”, he said, pulling her hands to entwine with his. “Listen, I don’t think any amount of words can fix what I did to you in the past, but I'm very, very sorry. For every bad thing I said about you and every time I mistreated you. Y/N, you never deserved to hear those words from anyone, and I'm sorry I took too long to realize that”.

Y/N nodded and waited quietly while listening to what he had to say. But she could tell that he was nervous, so she encouraged him by rubbing her thumbs on the back of his hand. Lando looked down and smiled at the gesture. It showed how much she cared about him, even though he keeps fucking her up.

“You jumped into this crazy idea just to help me in the blink of an eye, and I never showed you gratitude. Even when I didn’t deserve, you were kind, and you took care of me. And I kept breaking your heart over and over again”, he admitted. “And I regret all of that. I'm so sorry, and I promise you, I'll change”.

“You already have changed”, she ran her fingers through his curls and looked between his eyes. “I know you have, Lando, or else I wouldn't have opened up to you. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that it was really happening. So I tried to shield myself as much as I could from falling in love with you”.

Lando nodded, a little sad to know that he hurt this relationship so much that she tried not to feel anything for him. But it was nice knowing she felt the same all along, even though they needed some healing.

“And I know you're not the idiot you used to be with me. I understand that you changed and, for you, I would do anything. I would do it all again if I had too”.

“I'm sorry for being so selfish. I was so busy thinking about myself that I forgot how much I had hurt you in the past. I forgot to apologize, and I thought that giving you flowers and kisses would be enough to mend a broken relationship from the start. I was willing to do anything to make you trust me that I forgot the most important part of it all”.

“You understand my point, right?”, she asked, and he agreed with his head. “You showed me that you’re someone worthy of loving, but I just couldn’t trust you at all, because you never showed regret. But now, looking you in the eye, I know that you truly are sorry”.

“I regret every bad word I ever said about you”, he assured. “I think I made my point very clear, but I want to assure you that this thing we have, with sex and the ‘enemies with benefits’, was never just that for me. I would always have that tingle in my heart whenever I was intimate with you and with all the little nice interactions we had, my ice heart started melting for you”.

“Trust me, I know the feeling”, she assured him between giggles. “I also have to apologize to you. The insults weren’t one-sided. And I know you might think it’s all your fault now, but we both know I was a bitch to you as well. So to start in the right place, I have to say, I’m sorry too”.

“Well… I deserved it”, he shrugged, hanging his head down, but Y/N softly brought it up by taking it between her hands.

“No, you didn’t, Lando. You filled me with compliments, and now it’s your turn to take them”, she said. “You also have the kindest heart in the world. You take care of people, and you’re always the energy in the room. You’ve taken care of me on times I needed, and you brought light into my days. You taught me the purest form of love. You make me laugh, and you make me feel like a princess whenever I feel like I'm a monster. You're a good person, Lando. So if anyone is a bitch to you, they better apologize”.

“I used to be so scare of love, but you make it so easy”, Lando looked at her with adoration in his eyes, feeling so great to have his face between her hands. “I love you so much”.

She smiled at him, knowing for sure that now it was safe to say it back. With her eyes filled with tears, she admitted: “I love you so much too, Norris”.

Y/N pulled him for a sweet kiss, finally pouring all the feelings she had for him into her actions. And he savoured every single second of finally having his dream girl all to myself. Lando slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer.

“I thought I had lost you”, he whispered against her lips, feeling his eyes welling up with tears of relief. He felt it all too hard in his chest. “I'm so glad you're here with me”.

“Yeah, I thought we were doomed”, she admitted too, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. “But love always finds a way”.

“For you, I'll hang the stars in the sky, only to bring them back down if you want them back”, he confessed, now pulling her face between his hands. “I hope we can finally stop with the PR thing, or the friends with benefits thing, or whatever other stupid label between us, and properly be a couple”.

She giggled with him and nodded in agreement. “I want it all with you, Lan. You and me, to the end of times”.

“Forever, my love”, he pulled her for a hug and pressed countless kisses to the top of her head. “Also, now that you’re finally talking to me, congratulations again on your Emmy nomination. I’ve never been so proud of you”, he poked her sides and she laughed with his actions.

“Thank you, love”, she kissed his nose, making him blush a little.

“I’ll never get enough of praising you for this. I was so happy when I heard the news. I knew you were extraordinary, and it was just a matter of time until they recognized it”, he affirmed. “I almost exploded for not getting to celebrate it with you”.

“To be fair, I celebrated it crying alone in my room”, she confessed between laughs. Lando's heart faltered at the confession and his smile dropped. Y/N deserved a proper celebration to this incredible achievement in her career.

“You're kidding, right? So we have three things to celebrate tonight”, he said, making Y/N frown in confusion.

“What's the third thing to celebrate?”

“My grand prix win, your nomination and our love, now very much official”, he cracked a smile, making her laugh with his statement. Y/N just had to pull him for another hug and lots of cheek kisses.

“You’re so adorable”.

“Come on, let’s get ready. We have a party to go to”.

As she watched him waltz into the bathroom for a shower, all smiley and happy, Y/N felt her heart lighter again. Everything was exactly where she wished for it to be, and she could finally enjoy it all with him. Love is weird, and sometimes it blossoms in places you would never expect. But it’s good to know you’re loved back, especially by someone as amazing as Lando. In the end, love always makes it right.

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

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slasherscream · 1 day

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She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.

A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.

gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez

“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders.

“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.

Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now?

“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.

He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next.

Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it.

Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place.

“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again.

He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart.

“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.

It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring.

You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.

“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.

“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says.

He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp.

“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him.

“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes.

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”

“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does.

It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.

You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you.

“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.

You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours.

You bite him a little harder.

Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.

You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do.

“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.

“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him.

You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.

You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to.

You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that.

Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan.

You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought.

A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.

“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go.

They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces.

All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look.

“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled.

“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!”

You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero.

You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table.

During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time.

You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways.

‘Bimbo.’

‘Airhead.’

‘Slut.’

Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.

‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’

You stopped venting.

When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends.

People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest.

You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.

Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home.

You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground.

When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears.

It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all.

“Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says.

“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.

“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.”

You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting.

“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice.

You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement.

“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.

“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.

“That means that he killed the wife!”

“How do you figure?”

You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day.

Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say.

Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read.

You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.”

Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart.

Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment.

Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt.

It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk.

“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you.

You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?”

Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”

“Secondary super power.”

“Connecting all the dots?”

“Connecting all the dots, yeah.”

“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before.

“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.

“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped.

“What?!”

“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”

You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university.

You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door.

“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to.

“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd.

“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.”

You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place.

You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.

“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran.

Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose.

“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.”

Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-”

Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up.

“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.

“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”

Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!”

“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.

You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?”

“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong.

“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.

“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-”

“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.”

You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too.

He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you.

“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.

“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?”

“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?”

“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse.

“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly.

“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?”

“Why are you so mad?”

“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!”

“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”

Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you.

“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?”

“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.

“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”

Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.”

“Oh.” You say.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you.

You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews.

You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted.

“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.

“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!”

“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.

“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.

“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”

“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.

You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.”

You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.

“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.

“With fucking Peter?”

“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.

“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse.

“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes.

“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.

“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.

“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.”

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing.

“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk.

“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin.

“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time.

You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.”

“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this.

“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”

Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?

“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually.

“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work.

“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?”

“I should probably finish up a few more papers-”

“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed.

“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see.

You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees.

“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.

You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”

“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh.

“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.”

“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final.

“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob.

“Huh?” You look up from your notes.

“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.

“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be.

“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips.

“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page.

“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?”

“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”

“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”

“Nope. Property damage.”

“Fuck me!”

You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.

Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea.

Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”

“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.

“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible.

“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book.

Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?”

“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually.

“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.

“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow.

“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.

The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.

“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath.

“Oh.” Jordan says.

“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”

“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive.

“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.”

“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you.

You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.

“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question.

“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet.

“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered.

“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.

“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again.

“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble.

You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all.

You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly.

“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?”

“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck.

You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder.

You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him.

“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone.

“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.

“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.

“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.

“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly.

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.

“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles.

“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily.

“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush.

“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat.

“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink.

“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits.

“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.

“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.

“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile.

You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy.

“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.

“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers.

“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious.

“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps.

“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks.

“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?”

“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls.

“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.

You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.”

“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs.

“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-”

The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.

You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull.

You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you?

Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever.

Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story.

“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter.

“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend.

“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.

“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down.

“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.

“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.

“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.”

“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.

You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down.

You almost hadn’t come to the party.

You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.

So here you were.

You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one.

At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him.

And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li.

It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning.

Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it.

Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.

You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.

“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile.

“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.

“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?”

“Huh?” You blink, confused.

“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music.

“Nothing!”

“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.

“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.

“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal.

The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin.

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.”

“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face.

You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive?

“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you.

You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky.

“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.”

“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.

“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.

“Or something?” Jordan echoes.

“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him.

“How do you figure that?” You laugh.

“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says.

“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.

“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor.

The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive.

You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds.

This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch.

Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways.

“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something.

“What?”

“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group.

“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly.

“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with.

The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing.

As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.

“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.

“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk.

You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party.

There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all.

You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough-

You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan.

You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.

You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry.

You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop.

He just blinks up at you, owlish.

"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison.

Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are.

As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life.

Jordan shifts.

You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love.

You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever.

It has to be.

You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler.

But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern.

And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back.

You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started.

So you run.

Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly.

Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough?

Why did you fall in love with them?

A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you.

You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further.

It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.

You burst into tears again.

“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break.

She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up.

“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk.

“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away.

“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms.

The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs.

“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly.

“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!”

“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.

“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room.

“What are you fucking talking about-”

“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.

You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes.

Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again.

You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly.

“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-”

“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”

You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer.

“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word.

“What?”

Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.”

“I’m me?” You echo.

“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up.

“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb.

“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.”

“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.

“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours.

“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough.

You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.”

“When?!”

“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap.

“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back.

You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne.

“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again.

In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.

Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.”

“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.”

“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you.

“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?”

“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows.

“Three weeks ago I heard-”

“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.

“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!”

“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”

“Hot.”

“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”

“Shut up and be my everything.”

“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it.

And it’s perfect.

A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader #hey bee are you ever gonna do a non force field power having reader?? great question! answer is no adjkl #forcefields are THE coolest thing you can have #aside from the song she likes a boy i was thinking of hate that i love you rihanna and neyo while writing #if you see a fucking grammer error point it out i need to get this posted so i can MOVE ON adjkl this one has been kicking my ASS

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libby-for-life · 1 day

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Could you do a yandere lucifer x yandere lilith x adam oneshot, please

Maybe adam goes back in time to eden and realize he wants nothing to do with those two. But lilith and lucifer noticed the change and decided to do something about it.

.....mmmmm. Oh, this feeds the soul!

Adam fucking hated this. That bitch cyclops just had to kill him, didn't she? And now? And now he was in some cruel twist of irony and he was back in the Garden of Eden. He was back with her and Lucifer and he couldn't stand the sight of them.

He had already seen the glances they'd been giving each other. Acting as if he was stupid and couldn't feel the sexual tension between them.

Well, he already had his week of existential crisis and his meltdown. Now? Now he just wants to avoid all of them altogether. They want to have their shitty love story? They can have it! Just don't expect Adam to watch it!

With that in mind, Adam decided to ignore and avoid them. They can get kicked out of Eden for all he cares. Just as long as they aren't near him.

Lilith notices it first. She was always trying to find a way to avoid Adam. He wasn't cruel or mean, he was just...well, to be blunt, boring. He seemed so much like a...an empty vessel more than a man. Lilith was put off by it and always found excuses to be away from him. He believed her every time and she shoved the feeling of guilt for lying but....she couldn't be with him.

Then she realized she hadn't seen him in two weeks. Seeing Lucifer in secret had never been easier. She found it...odd. Usually by now, he would be calling her name and clinging to her like....like the monkeys that swung in the trees. Sometimes...it was far too tight and she just wanted some space.

Now, as she basked in the afterglow of what she and Lucifer just did, she couldn't help but question it.

"Lucifer?"

"Hm?" Lucifer replied, looking at her with the most caring and loving eyes. Lilith couldn't help but smile.

"Have...you seen Adam around? It's been a while." Lucifer cocked his head. Probably because Adam was never really brought up in the conversations they had.

He hummed before answering. "Now that you've mentioned it, I haven't seen him. That's odd. He'd usually be looking for us by now."

They both shared a look. Well, she supposed it didn't matter. Adam must be doing his own thing.

Another week passes and now Lucifer is getting worried. "You're both under my care." He said to Lilith. "I don't want something bad to happen to him. I'm going to go look for him." Lucifer searched Eden and found him on the other side of the garden. Far away from Lucifer and Lilith.

He was sleeping under a pile of animals. Wolves. All of them were huge compared to Adam’s slimmer frame. He looked so peaceful. See? Lucifer told himself. You were worried for nothing. All the same, he walked over to wake him up. Adam would be overjoyed to see him!

Adam woke up to someone poking his cheek. He mumbled and snuggled back into Metallica's fur. A baritone laugh made him sit up. Lucifer. He stood over him with a gentle smile. Adam ignored the feeling of nostalgia when he saw that smile directed at him and instead leveled the archangel with a blank look.

"Yes?"

Lucifer looked down at him with surprise. What, Adam's no longer vying for affection and you can't understand it? Tough titty.

"Uh...I was just checking up on you! I haven't seen you in a while! How are you?"

Adam held back a scoff. He's been avoiding them for three weeks and only now has Lucifer decided to check up on him?

"Fine. You can go now." Lucifer tilted his head and flinched. "You...want me to leave?"

"Yes. You're bothering me." Adam said standing up. He was smaller than his former angel form but he was taller than Lucifer. "You know what? I'll just leave." And Adam walked away with the rest of the wolves, leaving Lucifer to stare back in shock.

"He just left? He didn't want you there?" Lilith questioned, completely taken aback. This was NOT the Adam she knew.

"I was surprised too. He said I was bothering him." Lucifer looked down in thought and a bit of hurt came across her vision. Lilith hugged him and looked up at the sky in thought. Perhaps she should try? Adam was always happy to see her!

It took her a while to find him but she caught sight of him climbing a fruit tree, oranges, and she smiled. He had a look of determination on his face. A wolf pack surrounded the tree and she smiled and petted one. "Hi, Adam!"

She should have known better than to startle him. Lilith watched with horror as Adam lost his grip due to surprise and fell from his branch.

Quicker than what she thought possible, she ran forward and caught the First Man in her arms. Adam clung to her in surprise and a bit of fear crossed his features.

"Well, that could have been a nasty fall!" Lilith said, letting out a laugh. Adam was a bit smaller than her by a head so it didn't feel awkward to hold him like this.

Lilith watched in fascination as a red blossomed over Adam’s cheeks and he looked away. "C-can you let me down?"

Lilith held back a smirk but let him go. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." All traces of his blush were gone and Lilith looked at his indifferent face with shock. He...had never looked at her that way before.

"I'm going to go now. Don't follow me." Lilith was too stunned to do anything but gape at Adam as he walked away with the wolf pack. This was DEFINITELY not the Adam she knew!

"He's different. I didn't know how, but he is." Lilith said to Lucifer. "What do you think made him change?"

"I don't know. But we're going to find out." For the next month, they followed Adam and observed him. He seemed the happiest with animals and played with the wolf pack constantly. Adam would run when they approached so they stuck to following.

He seemed so...carefree. Happy. The two of them would smile as they watched the First Man just live his life and was perfectly happy with being alone. But...things really changed when Lilith and Lucifer saw Adam touch himself for the first time.

They were watching him sleep, when did they start doing that, and watched as Adam’s penis became erect. What was he dreaming about? Lilith and Lucifer couldn't help but blush when they saw it.

Adam woke up to his problem and he sighed. With a blush staining his own cheeks, he grabbed his penis and began stroking himself.

A moan tumbled out. They didn't realize how...sensitive he was. Lilith bit her lip as she watched slender fingers grip his manhood and rub it. He was...cute doing this. Lilith's blush deepened when she accepted that thought.

Lucifer was watching with hooded eyes as Adam went on all fours, ass up and head down as he touched himself. He had been turned on before but this was something else. It was on par with Lilith. A glance at her told him that she was turned on as well. Her face matched his. The face of someone watching prey and Lucifer bit his lip as smirked.

"Are you liking what you're seeing?" Lucifer asked and Lilith turned to him, eyes burning. "Yes."

"I am too." They both watched as Adam’s form arched and cute whimpers left his plump lips. He came on the ground, thighs trembling from being in that position for so long.

They watch him get up and walk away, presumably to wash himself. Then, Lilith turned him and gave him her look. The look she gave him was one of want and desire.

"I want him."

They decided to ambush him while he was bathing. They watched with smiles as he played in the water and swam around. Lilith bit her lip as she walked from the bush she was watching from and slipped in. Silently moving forward, she stood behind him as Lucifer's naked form came into view of Adam.

"Lucifer?!" Adam cried out and Lilith smirked at the blush that creeped all the way behind his neck and ears. Adam was so cute flustered like this.

"Taking a bath? Mind if I join?" Lucifer said, slipping into the water. "Uh—um," Adam stammered and backed up. Right into Lilith's awaiting arms. She hugged him from behind, pushing her breasts over his shoulders so that his face was cradled between them.

"I'm going to join too."

"Hu?!" A high whimper left Adam making the two others smirk. Aw, he's embarrassed!

"Hm. I think you missed a spot." Lucifer said, swimming forward. Adam watched him with a furious blush as the archangel brushed a hand over his toned stomach.

"Wa? Missed? I didn't miss anything!" Adam protested as the two chuckled. "Why don't I show you then?"

Adam would have jumped if Lilith wasn't holding him so securely because Lucifer licked a strip of his stomach with a devious smirk. Lilith cooed and kissed his cheek as Adam hid his burning face to the side. He was really quite sensitive!

"No! Wa—mm! I—ah!" Adam protested but Lucifer kept licking up and up his body and Lilith bit his ear at the same time teeth found their way on a nipple.

"Ah~!" Adam moaned loud and clear. They continued exploring his body as Adam writhed in Lilith's grip. "Oh, isn't he just the cutest?" Lilith said as she bit alongside his neck. Adam's breath met her breasts as he tried to hide from Lucifer's piercing gaze.

"He really is," Lucifer replied. "Carry him to the bank? I think we'll need to give him the attention he deserves."

Lilith scooped up Adam easily and he hung in her grip loosely, far too lost in his pleasure to realize they were moving. Lilith sat down and placed Adam on her lap before kissing him.

Adam's eyes widened in surprise and she easily took control. Making sure that she held an arm around his waist, she brought him close.

They broke apart, a string of saliva the only thing connecting them as she stared deeply into his eyes. She smiled when he whimpered in confusion.

"Lucifer. Want to try? He's a good kisser." Lilith watched as Adam’s face was turned to the side and Lucifer kissed him deeply. She moaned. Watching as Lucifer dominated Adam was...exhilarating.

He also said he wanted to try having sex with him. Lilith was confused at first as to how but Lucifer explained it to her and she was determined to see it for herself.

Once they broke apart, Lilith shifted Adam until his face was lying on her breasts. He looked at her with a small and wobbly smile, his eyes glazed.

"Aw. Did Lucifer make you feel good, Adam? What him to make you feel even better?"

"Yesh..." Adam slurred making the two coo at him. Lucifer bent down and licked at his pink bud. Adam's eyes widened but Lilith was quick to shush him and allowed him to bury his face in her breasts as Lucifer tongue fucked him.

Moans and whimpers filled the air, even more so when Lucifer entered him using something much bigger.

"Ah! Ah! So...big!" Adam moaned out, drooling on Lilith. He slumped in her grip and Lilith smiled and kissed his forehead. "That's it. Be good for us. No more running away. Understood?"

Adam nodded, far too lost in the sticky folds of his pleasure to understand Lilith fully, but the First Woman was happy nonetheless.

"That's right Adam," Lucifer growled. "You're ours!"

"Y-yours?" Adam slurred out. "But...why?"

Lilith tilted her head. "Because we want you."

"Ah! D-didn't want me, mmmm, before...."

Lilith winced. She really did hurt Adam by avoiding him. Well, he won't have to worry about it anymore.

"Then how about we prove it to you that you're ours?" Lucifer said before increasing his speed.

Adam clutched onto Lilith and cried tears of pleasure. Lucifer must have been hitting that special place called the prostate. Apparently, it made Adam feel immense amount of pleasure.

"Lucifer! Lilith! Yesh! Yesh!" He slurred out and moaned high when he came. He passed out, his face slumping into Lilith's breasts making the First Woman hug him close. Lucifer slipped out and kissed Adam’s neck before kissing Lilith.

"Wow....he felt so good!" Lucifer said and Lilith nodded eagerly. She gently transferred him to Lucifer so he could hold their Adam. She stretched and began washing off the semen. "He's ours now," Lilith said as she sat back down. "Ours."

Lucifer nodded and they both shared twin looks of possessive desire. Adam was theirs and Heaven help anyone who tried to take him away.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #adam x lilith x lucifer #send asks #yandere lucifer #yandere lilith

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raapija · 22 hours

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hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #hope you like this 🤧💚

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ghostieyanyan · 2 days

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Could you do a Demon!Poly!Scarabia x AngelF!MC comic?

In which Jamil and Kalim are a couple of Demon Kings, but they felt that something was missing, or rather someone. And one day while walking through the forest, they find/meet MC, the Princess of Angels with her back bleeding, which leaves them both worried, so after using a spell to heal their wounds, they discover the truth about the Kingdom of Angels, that they pretend to be good just to have the adoration of humans and fight and kill demons for no reason and for power, and when MC protected and saved a demon who was going to be killed unjustly, her own parents ripped off her wings as "punishment for defending an evil demon", and before they could do anything else with her, MC fled to the forest, it turns out that this demon she saved was Najma, Jamil's sister who had been missing for a week, So as a thank you, Jamil and Kalim decided to welcome MC into their kingdom to help her hide from the angels, in addition to helping her expose the true face of angels to humans, but for the MC to be able to live and survive in the Demon Kingdom, she would have to drink a drop of blood from both kings of the kingdom and she did, and because of the blood, MC regained her wings, but now they were black. And during that time, the three began to fall in love with each other, and after exposing the truth to humans and the angels being banished, Jamil, MC and Kalim got married.

This was MC's angelic appearance before she had her wings ripped off and became part demon after drinking the blood of the JamiKali:

What do you think?

hehehe... i love it x3 ive thought about different story lines to do and i think i thought of one that you might enjoy. hopefully lol This is isnt going to be in the same setting as the orginal demon au but it'll still use demons and angels

~Oh no! Youre still a good angel~

Yan!Demon!Jamil x Angel!mc x Yan!???!Kalim

Warnings: yandere, themes about heaven and hell, murder, blood, kidnapping, stalking,

~~~~~

You were a freshly made angel. Made to guide innocent souls into the pearl gates of heaven! This isn't your first human and it wont be your last! You take pride in helping souls see the light and spreading that joy in the world until their last moments.

You learned to love the souls that you guide. Watching their growth and struggles, then watching them over come their struggles and become an amazing person that others can find strength in. doing your job is your heavenly pleasure.

This time, you were assigned a human named, Kalim Al-Asim. An innocent human that finds mayhem everywhere he goes. Assassins that try to kill him through food being poison to just being jumped in the streets.

Your heart broke watching this sweet boy being chased by thugs left and right. You knew you had to do something.

when you got to his home, with a little invisibility spell that makes you undetectable to mortal's eyes, you noticed that this boy's life, besides the murder attempts, was actually very nice. His family takes great care of him and they make lots of money.

"maybe that's why there's so many murder attempts made? why do humans care so much about these physical items..?"

"It's because human's need to sin."

You jumped at the mysterious voice and turn to find eyes piercing at you. It was a man! He was standing in the shadows so you couldn't make out his features. You stayed quiet and still. If this is a ordinary human, then he shouldn't have heard you, or even see you. But if he isn't an ordinary human, this could mean trouble.

Neither of you made a move, it was almost like either one of you were waiting for the other to jump...

Something finally happened as Kalim walked into the room you both were in to grab a cup of water. Kalim stayed for a bit until he went back upstairs to go back to sleep.

Once you heard Kalim's bedroom door clicked shut. The shadow jumped at you. you nearly dodged it but quickly ran to the balcony, opened your wings and took off.

even though you could cast a spell that made you invisible to mortals, it doesn't mean that the noise you make will be muted.

you were about to return to your home until something slams into you, grabbing you in mid air.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the same eyes that were looking at you before. this time with the help of the moonlight, you saw his features. dark skin and black hair, he had blacked out eyes with the pupils being grey. He wore black, red, and gold accents clothing. But the more important parts of him are his pointy ears, black wings and.. horns.

"Hello there~ I'm Jamil Viper. I'm the demon that was assigned... to you."

You tried your best at struggling but his grip on you was too strong. But what does he mean assigned to you? doesn't he mean, assign to the human..? you eventually stop your struggling to talk to him, maybe you could wait until he's distracted and fly off..?

"Youve got me. What are you gonna do now..? ...Cut off my wings? um..."

you drew a blank thinking of other torture methods. Then again, that is a demon's strong suit, it probably comes to them like second nature..

"Why in the realms would i do such a thing? You're wings are one of your greatest charms~"

Jamil pulls you close, speaking right to your face.

"I'll let you protect that HUMAN. But mind you, i will come back again-"

Black shadow-like clouds form, swallowing him up.

"- and when i do, i will collect."

You shut your eyes, still feeling his hands around you until the very end. when you open your eyes, he was gone and you were alone in the night sky...

~~~

The past few days, you've been on edge. both worried that the demon might come back to hurt Kalim or you. You tried your best to stay focused but you kept feeling the piercing eyes like someone is watching you.

The things that Jamil said is still stuck in your mind. the wording was strange. You weren't used to dealing with demons and you didn't have time to ask any other angels about it so you just have to go with your instincts... and what your instincts is telling you to do right now is to protect Kalim... as best as you can.

To say this was a hard mission, was an understatement. You loved your job, but with the paranoia about Jamil and protecting Kalim. you felt like you were on a fine line...

You were scared that if you weren't careful, someone might get hur-

"my my~ You look awful.."

You spun your head around and saw Jamil, standing by the door way. He had a knife in one hand and rope in the other. You grabbed the nearest weapon, a knife, and threw it at the demon!

Jamil smirked and faded into the mist, leaving the knife.. imbedded into one of Kalim's maid that was just passing by!

She stumbled a bit before leaning against a nearby wall for support.

Your body became ice cold as you rushed to the maid's side and inspected her wounds. She was coughing a lot of blood and she held her wound with one hand. Tears ran down her face as she looked around confused and scared. You tried your best at helping her but it was useless. she was gone in minutes and no one was around to help...

You felt cold, this has never happened before and you weren't prepared for this kind of event. the angels gave you advice about "things you should know about humans", but they never mentioned anything if you were to accidently take a life!!!

You heard Kalim yell. You turn to look at him as he runs to check the maid.

"Oh no! Oh no! I'm so sorry!! ugh... ill have to call her loved ones..."

Hot tears started to fall from your face. what were you suppose to do..? What's gonna happen to this person? what's gonna happen to you?? all you could really do was hold the body in your arms and kept repeating "I'm sorry"s.

"My my~ what will the heavens think of this..? their sweet angel... murdering an innocent soul"

You slowly turns to see Jamil looking down at you, with a sickening smile. You felt so many feelings you've never felt before. Rage, hatred, disgusted, sadness, depression, and... fear.

Jamil walks towards you and kneels to your level.

"Heaven might not accept you now. But we will~"

"Don't worry, angel~ you're still a good angel to me~"

You slowly turn to look at Kalim. he was looking straight at you, giving you his bright smile.

Jamil tried to reach out for you but you quickly pushed him to the side and took flight. Maybe if you explain to them what happened, they'll forgive you. You open a portal and tried flying through. Not only did you fly through but the portal failed. Instead of going to your sweet home to feel the warmth of your angel comrades, you felt the burning feeling of your wings changing from white to black.

It felt horrible. felt like hot tar was being poured on your wings. you screamed in pain. the pain got so unbearable that you couldn't maintain altitude. you started to fall.

you watched as this was likely the last time you'll see the pretty blue sky and those comfy white clouds...

You watched as your tears fall in a different pace than you...

You watched as your halo disappears from your head...

You closed your eyes as you just felt numb to everything. allowing yourself to just fall.

you felt something strange, when you opened your eyes, you looked and saw Kalim with Jamil! Kalim with his horns and tail...

They were both looking at you, smiling. A smile that made your stomach turn.

Everything finally clicked.

They lure you in with the innocent human act!

Youve should have known from that first night, when you ran into Jamil. How Kalim conveniently joined both of you. The stares from Jamil, in the shadows, and Kalim, in the daylight, that stayed on you a little too long.

And that maid... that unfortunate maid. She wasn't suppose to be there... unless it was all planned.

Jamil made sure to were uneasy and paranoid and Kalim made it so that if your fight or flight kicks in, you'll fight to protect a "poor defenseless human"

They wanted you to fall...

You were tricked by these TWO HORRIBLE DEMONS!!!

~~~

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qlossytbh · 1 day

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 You and Spencer start learning what it’s like to live together as the chase for the killer continues.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions of overthinking (lots of it), mention of absent parents, mentions of scream 6 (no spoilers tho), unpopular scream 6 opinions, too much fluff tbh, nightmares, mentions of sleep paralysis

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i’m literally so sorry for this being so behind schedule, im so stumped with college and shit but here it is!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You remember going home that night and thinking a lot— maybe too much, if you were being frank.

A lot was still on your mind. Between the case, and the whole murderer that was killing old acquaintance's—you also had a husband now apparently.

Two days had passed and the case was still at works. Spencer lived in an apartment complex, which wasn't favorable for the goal of the mission. You however, lived in a nice suburban house your parents left you as a 'sorry for being absent' gift. Very close to where you used to go to school, which was crucial. It was perfectly comfortable— a little too big for you to be living there by yourself, which left space for you to feel a little lonely many times— but spacious nonetheless.

So with that, and lots of discussion, it was decided that Spencer would accommodate himself at your house, to make the whole marriage part, well— believable.

Cameras had been installed all across the outside of your house, ensuring there'd be vigilance throughout the days to come. Hotch made it incredibly clear, that you and Spencer's safety was top priority, so taking precaution wasn't something that the team was going to take lightly. Hotch had previously sat you and Spencer down, just to make sure you knew what you were getting into, the basic guidelines you'd have to follow and so on.

You and Spencer didn't speak much as the plan progressed during the following days and you didn't know why. You knew that you had been busy with your own things and he had been busy with his own, but it still filled you with dread. You were dwelling wether or wether not he was truly comfortable with the whole 'fake married couple' and not having time to sit down and actually talk to him about this whole thing was messing with your head.

'Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious and try to act like a married couple—'

'As if that was so hard for them.'

That's what Hotch had told you and what Morgan decided to pipe in, causing you to nearly toss the book you had with you at him. Was it normal that you had been dwelling on what Morgan had said relentlessly since then?

You didn't fully understand why the whole concept filled you with an unexplainable unsteadiness. It felt similar to anxiety but it wasn't as dreadful. It felt like something was lingering across the tip of your tongue, begin to be released, but your brain couldn't actually process any of it.

Spencer had been taking this whole situation just as lightly as you were— which wasn't at all light. His mind running impossibly faster than usual, and thoughts forcing themselves in and out of his head. A few of his things had already been moved into your house, such as spare clothing among other stuff.

Tonight, however, you're mind was silent for the first time in these past two days. You sat on your couch, digging your back into the softness of its pillows, dressed with a fluffy pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt that fell over your body comfortably. You had a box of ramen in your hands, and Spencer sat just a little further from you on the opposite side of the couch, also in his pajamas.

The two of you had been taken completely off guard, seeing the other in something so 'casual'. Sure, you had been best friends for a while, but somehow you had never seen each other in anything other than your work attire. Seeing him in nothing but a plain grey T-shirt and plaid pants felt almost intimate.

He held his box of ramen in one hand and a fork in the other, reminding you of his inability to ever learn how to use chopsticks, despite your attempts at teaching him.

You tugged closer at the blanket you were wrapped in and said with a mouth full of noodles."Easily the best scream movie since the original."

"In every way is it better than all the sequels. The opening scene is brilliant and the way they did it was so scary and intense—" You beamed, enthusiasm radiating off your every word as the end credits to Scream 6 began rolling.

One of you and Spencers preferred past-times was watching any movie, franchise or series you could get your hands on and either rip the movie to shreds or praise it as if it were a god given gift. You just finished watching the last Scream movie and funny enough, you both were disagreeing on the cinematographic decisions.

Spencer rolled his eyes, jabbing his fork into the nearly empty box of noodles. "Please, even after the last time I saw this I still think the this is one of the slowest pacing films known to man."

"You could actually tell this was the longest movies in the franchise," He shrugged. Your jaw slacked as an annoyed groan left your lips.

"Spencer, it is not slow-paced— are you kidding me?" He deadpanned at you, clearly disagreeing with your opinion. "Everything was timed perfectly! I mean, the kills were brutal but even so, they felt realistic and made me believe that those things could actually happen."

"They do actually happen," He said, reminding you of the reality of your job. Your lips pursed in thought, realizing he had a point as you looked over at the TV screen.

"Touché,”

You poked at your box silently. You didn't usually mind silences, much less with Spencer, but right now you were realizing that a somewhat tense silence had dwelled upon you two. You felt your nerves begin to bundle up and you caught yourself opening your mouth to speak.

"So uh—" One more poke at the bottom of the carton box. "I talked to Claire today,"

"Hmm? What'd she say?" Spencer's gaze and entire attention was on you in the matter of seconds and it made you weirdly nervous to speak.

"Well," You reached over, setting the now empty box onto the table. You leaned back into the couch, looking over at him as he copied your movements effortlessly. "She was telling me how she was planning on throwing a ten year reunion, but with everything going on, she cancelled it."

“Claire always took matters of those stupid school events into her own hands, but she didn’t know how tone deaf it was of her to throw it ever with everything that’s going on,”

Your speaking started off as a nervous ramble, attempting to fill the silence, but you soon found yourself easing into the nature of the conversation. Spencer listening attentively, shifting his weight to the side every once in a while.

"I told her that she should go ahead with it anyways. Gave her a hell of a list of pros and somehow she agreed to look into the possibility of organizing it,"

You recalled your conversation with Claire easily. When the option for a high school reunion was up, you remembered the reality of your mission with Spencer, and knew it was the perfect way of getting you and him on whoever was attacking radar. She asked why you were so enthusiastic about wanting to throw together the reunion, given how you weren't present at the one year reunion— or the five year.

"She was kind of apprehensive, which I don't blame her," You laughed at yourself and laid your head on the back of your couch, looking up at the ceiling. "I— uhm, told her it was because I wanted to officially introduce you as my husband and she got all, excited,"

You felt yourself growing nervous as you looked over at Spencer. "Excited?"

There was a teasing glint in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at you. He also laid his head on the back of your couch, still gazing over at you. It made your stomach weirdly twist and suddenly you felt your cheeks hot to the touch. You smiled and narrowed your eyes as well.

"Yes, excited," You looked down at your lap. You were getting to that point where you weren't thinking straight and your lips moved along as if they had a mind of their own. “She said she knew it all long and you know the typical 'called it' which everyone seems to love saying lately,"

“Saying what?” You looked back up at Spencer and silence dwelled upon you two. You shrugged and opened your mouth to speak, but was shocked when nothing came out. Both of your growing smiles began to falter as he tilted his head back just slightly, watching you intently. You knew something was lingering in his head— finding out what was the hard part.

"—It's uhm," You sucked in a deep breath and sat up quickly. "I'm gonna—"

You wordlessly dusted off your pants, tumbling slightly on your feet. You grabbed both now empty ramen boxes and waltzed over to your kitchen.

"Need help?" Spencer shot from over the couch, standing up and making his way over to the kitchen behind you.

"It's fine Spence," You cleared your throat, throwing both boxes into the trash and the fork into the sink. You turned, seeing Spencer now leaning against the fridge with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Your eyes felt droopy, which meant it probably was late, and the two of you did have work tomorrow. Somehow knowing it was late impulsed your body to let out an involuntary yawn. Spencer smiled at you.

"I left a few extra blankets on the edge of my bed cause I know it gets cold—" You started. Spencer pushed himself off of the fridge and looked at you quizzically.

"What?" He asked. You stopped as you noticed his severely puzzled expression, looking at him and furrowing your brows.

You explained once again, completely lost as to what the problem was. “Blankets..? You know those things you use for—"

"You're expecting me to sleep in your bed?"

You blinked. "I changed the sheets before you got here if it's the whole germ shit your worried about,"

"What? No, it's not—" He said before shaking his head. "We're at your house, I'm supposed to sleep on the couch."

Of course. You hadn't thought about the fact that Spencer was going to be severely against you staying on the couch. In various situations he had put all of his comforts out of the way for you, so of course he wasn't going to let you sleep on the couch.

"Do not fight me on this because I swear," You pointed a warning finger towards him, taking a step near him. "My couch is amazing, if you couldn't already tell. I've got the TV as well, which I do not have in my room,"

He rolled his eyes at the amusement in your voice. But shook his head firmly. "You take the room, I'll take the couch—"

"Spencer!" You groaned, throwing your head back. You reached out and grabbed his wrists with both of your hands, looking up at him firmly. "Please,"

His lips pressed into a tight line, eyes finding yours as he looked down, seeing your lips tightly dressed with a firm pout as you attempted to give him your best puppy eyes.

"If you sleep on the couch that means I set up the whole light projector thingy for nothing," His head tilted.

"What?" He laughed at you, fully with endearment.

"I got you this stupid little galaxy projector thing off of Ebay, so the room wouldn't be pitch black."

Spencer stopped and looked down at you. He could practically heard his heart explode inside his chest, which was the best way of describing whatever it is he felt whenever you did stuff like it this. Stuff that showed that you cared, that you listened and payed attention.

When he suddenly looked away from you, incredibly close to caving, you tugged his wrist closer. "Please?"

He sighed, looking down at you. "Fine,"

It was imposible for Spencer to say no to you. It always has been. Wether it was something as stupid as stopping by a gas station on the way home from work to get your favorite snack or for him to give you some company while you visited the offices printer, he always found himself surrendering to your pleading look.

"I promise it's comfortable," You reassured, noticing how he was still apprehensive of letting you sleep on the couch in your own house. He sighed once again, but this time tugging you slightly by the arm into him. He wrapped his arms around you as your arms mindlessly wrapped around his torso. He buried his face into your neck and let out a gush of air he couldn't tell he was holding as his body relaxed under your touch.

With everything going on, the two of you had forgotten just how peaceful it was to be around one another. You had to remind yourself that the two of you were in this together, as much as you believed it was something you were handling alone.

"We're okay right?" He asked, realeasing you from his grip to look down at you. You pulled away, finding the same worry you had been feeling these past few days flooding his eyes.

"Yeah Spence," You gave him a small smile and a reassuring squeeze. He hugged you once more, trying to hold onto the feeling as you rubbed his back.

"We should probably head to sleep—" You said, pulling away from him as he hesitantly let you go, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah," He nodded looking down at you one last time.

It all happened in the matter of seconds, and having been woken up so suddenly, you didn't fully grasp what was going on.

It started with a scream. The sound caused you to shoot up from your position in on the couch, still groggy with sleep. The second scream that came made your blood run cold as you realized the scream belonged to none other than Spencer.

Anxiety immediately clawed your throat and you truly felt like you couldnt breathe. You threw the blanket off of yourself and shot up from the couch. You held your breath while your body unconsciously dragged you towards your room in a panicked frenzy.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay

You still weren't processing anything that was going on when you pushed the door open fully expecting yourself to find the worst.

It took you a second that no one had broken in like you had thought. Spencer was unharmed but slashing back and forward in his sleep.

He's having a nightmare

You rushed over to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and gripping his shoulder as you tried to get him to wake up.

"Spencer!" You shook his shoulder as he groaned and mumbled inaudibly in his sleep. With one final firm shake at his shoulder, his eyes shot open.

He sat up in a rush, desperately looking over the lightly lit room while his chest heaved up and down madly. His skin felt hot at the touch and his hair was all over the place. You could even see a few pieces that had been matted onto his forehead due to the sweat.

"Hey," You cooed, eyes laced with sleep and worry. His own eyes found yours desperately, breathing still labored. "Can you breath for me?"

He nodded wordlessly. Your hands snaked down to his, gripping his clammy palm in your own. You rubbed your thumb across his knuckles gently as his breathing finally slowed down. He dragged his free hand across his face and let out one final shaky breath.

You didnt ask anything at first. You just sat with him in silence— partially because you knew what it felt like, and also because you wanted him calm before saying anything.

Spencer was used to the nightmares. He got them when there was something that was on his mind, and he usually just slept through them, unable to wake up. It sometimes felt like he was stuck in them, and not being able to wake up from them was hell.

When you caught how he looked down, eyes full of panic and dread, you squeezed his hand. "It was just a nightmare Spence,"

He nodded, trying to believe you. You weren't going to pry, or ask him to tell you about what his nightmare was about. "I- I know,"

"...Do you get those often?" You asked after a moment of silence. He shrugged.

"Not necessarily, only when I'm stressed or worried,"

"Can I help in anyway?" Spencer looked up at you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as he shook his head.

"No—" He didn't want to be yet something else you had to worry about because just with the way you were looking at him he could tell you did— you always did. "No, I'm okay,"

You looked at him, trying to get him to crack under your gaze because you knew he wasn't fine. You didn't need him telling you the details, but you did want him telling you what you could do to help— and right now he wasn't going to because that's how stubborn Spencer was.

"You scared the shit out of me," You said, voice nearly breaking in a yawn as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand.

"Sorry," He said. You looked up at him and then reached over and tapped the screen of his phone that sat on the nightstand, reading the white numbers spell out four in the morning.

"You sure I can't help in anyway?" It felt utterly wrong to you to just leave after seeing how he had been paralyzed in his sleep by whatever severe fear his nightmare caused.

He remained silent. With a huff, you let go of his hand and crawled onto the opposite side of the bed wordlessly. Once you had laid on your back, you reached over, grabbing the grey blanket that sat on the end of your bed and pulled it up towards your body, laying into the pillows that sat behind your back.

Once you were accommodated, you looked over at Spencer, who was looking back at you, confusion painting his features. You shrugged at him.

"Can't a girl sleep in her own bed?" He rolled his eyes and with a small laugh, laid back down. He turned onto his side and glanced at the starry lit ceiling.

The roof now looked similar to that of a galaxy. The dark room was airbrushed in a deep blue and hints of purple, as stars circled and glided across the ceiling in a slow pace. The room resembled a nebula, and it was actually pretty fascinating.

"The lights are pretty," You stated, looking at the roof in awe.

"They are," Spencer agreed. You laid down further into the bed and searched for Spencer's hand. He flattened it out, granting access for yours to intertwine itself in his.

"Is this okay?" You asked.

With a single reassuring squeeze, he answered. "Yeah,"

You closed your eyes, letting sleep begin to consume you again as you laid far from Spencer's body, but still connected by the simple touch of your intertwined hands.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @yondiii i @r-3dlips @moonchildohh @rubyirene @sp3ncelle @alisyacsa @pleasantwitchgarden @landooscurls @chonkybonky @hiireadstuff @stillhere197 @iluvreading73

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 days

Note

Hear me out. Chauffeur takes the vees out in one of their sports cars and someone on the road challenges them to a race.

What are the reactions from each of the vees?

Drag Racing

PolyVees x GN!Reader

TW:Valentino and the mentions of some NSFW

A/N:YES YES- MORE CHAUFFEUR READER

Let me preface this with you know better than to listen to some demons who think they are better than the Vee’s but also..you know every back road and fastest route around Pentagram City. It’s like you have a digital map in your head, also it’s very easy to remember when traffic gets heavy.

Stick with me here cause I know nothing about sports cars or anything of the like and I’m not going into specifics cause I’m too stupid for that shit. But- all three have different tastes in cars, especially personal cars.

Vox likes the new high tech sports cars while he can appreciate the looks of old cars. I feel like he likes Lamborghini’s mostly. He has many of his signature colors, but if he wants more privacy (especially if he gets overwhelmed) I’m thinking he has an Audi.

Valentino Most definitely likes the classics but can appreciate the modern versions. He mostly does have classic cars like the cars made by the Morgan Motor company. It has that old classic look that he absolutely eats up all the time. But he does have a few Ferraris’ all of them having some sort of his signature colors to it. He doesn’t let ANYONE except you drive his cars cause he knows while it’s your job- that you do take care of them and if something comes up they are immediately fixed by the best people.

Velvette is a Mercedes-Benz girlie, she has the least amount of cars out of the three. She can appreciate the look of it and loves how the roof can collapse (if that's the word Idk). She can also appreciate BMW's. She's not a hater (yes she is..shhh).

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE PLOT-

You were driving the Vee’s around one day and a demon drove up next to the car, their vehicle tricked out to well..hell and back. Sadly for you, you had your window rolled down so you were able to hear all the curses and name calling before the taunts started. You looked over to the Overlord next to you, wondering what to do cause this person would not shut the fuck up.

They all have different reactions from this but either way, they find it so fucking hot that you can easily beat someone’s ass in a race without having to gloat about it. Also the way your eyes lock in on what you're doing and how your jaw locks? If you weren’t kicking someone’s ass in the race all three would probably jump your bones.

If you're with Vox he’ll most likely tell you to ignore them which you do easily unless he’s in a mood. Then he lets you race the idiots trying to one up him, he’s not scared. He has more confidence in you winning than he does in himself.

Valentino…is a different breed. He will allow you to race against someone and he will gloat about it, but the only rule is it can’t be in one of the Morgan cars cause he will actually fucking kill you if you race in that car, those are his relaxation around Pentagram City cars. The Ferrari's? He couldn’t give a shit about, don’t be afraid to mow people down if they get in the way too. He has his hand on your thigh the whole time as well.

Velvette does care but if she’s annoyed enough by the person she will look at you and give you the go ahead, she will livestream the whole time too. Just don’t hit anyone or anything cause she will throw a huge fucking fit, that’s her car.

Once you win the race? Oh boy, get out a gloat for a bit cause the others surely will. Even if you didn’t demand money, they will. Most likely Valentino will kill them or destroy their car.

Vox will pull you in and tell you how he didn’t have any doubts about you losing.

Valentino will more than likely use this as a way to get you to sleep with him or he will try to put moves on you the whole ride back to the tower.

Velvette is gonna be kissing up on your face and leaving lipstick stains all over your face and then going online to tell everyone how you were the best.

A/N: IF YOU WANT MORE PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Tag List: @aboyscriminalrecord, Come get some food bestie-

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youandiwerealive · 2 days

Text

Só quero ir para casa, para ti [rd]

Author’s note: my best friend described this as “disgustingly cute”, so here you have some cute dad!Rúben to compensate for the last one 🫣 thank you to the anon who requested this, hope you enjoy it! Mwah mwah

wc: 1601- English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Rúben absolutely hates being far from you, especially now that you’re pregnant with your second baby.

He is currently in Abu Dhabi with the team, preparing the upcoming season. Not only is he 4 hours ahead in the clock, he is also full of trainings and recovery sessions - leaving him so little time to talk to you.

You are now five months pregnant and your baby is starting to kick and move like crazy inside of you. You try your best to show everything to Rúben, not wanting him to feel left out for losing all these special moments. But, you both agree that video calls might help a bit to ease the sadness of being away from each other, but those minutes don’t really make up from all the time that Rúben spends without his wife, daughter and son.

Every time he looks at you through his phone screen, he can’t help but think how beautiful you look, the pregnancy glow really showing again - more and more each day now. He misses you like crazy, even just a couple of hours would already be too much time away from you and your family, but spending weeks so far is killing him already.

He especially misses sleeping next to your belly, wanting to feel as close to his boy as possible, while Matilde is wrapped strongly in his arms. He misses the way you would laugh when he peppered your belly with kisses. He misses talking to his children - having full conversations about every thing and anything at the same time, really. Always promising his entire love and dedication to the other love of his life, his baby - Dinis.

Rúben has been sad lately, thinking non-stop about all the times you call him, or send him videos of his son moving inside your belly. He hasn’t felt it yet. Every single time the baby decides to move, he’s not around, and when he is, Dinis decides to keep quiet.

“Maybe he is just shy. He’ll move for you when he feels like it, we can’t rush these things” - you would always say to him, trying to get a bit of all the guilt Rúben held upon his shoulders to go away. Why wouldn’t the light of his life kick for him? He even smiled at the first time you told him in between laughs ‘he’s not kicking because he’s afraid that you’ll tackle him’. Yeah, jokes about him being a footballer and his son not kicking around him.

But lately he has been feeling down, his mind thinking about that all the time. What if his baby gets here and doesn’t feel comfortable enough around him? He would always move to the sound of her mom’s voice, but not to his. Matilde was a very active baby, always moving and kicking to the sound of her dad’s voice - totally a daddy’s girl, still today being always glued to him, playing him with, sleeping with him, cuddling with him.

Either way, Rúben is tired, missing you, his princess and his baby. You are video chatting once again, him seeing how his boy’s tiny feet would mark your belly and talking to his princess, Matilde. He tries to smile, glad to see his baby moving once again, even if he’s not there to feel the sensation.

You can sense that he is a little down, but you try to shrug it off since he said he was feeling tired and sleepy.

“Tenho tantas saudades vossas” (I miss you so much) - he says lowly, like his voice is threatening to start shaking if he speaks any louder.

You smile, understanding why he is so down. “We miss you too” - you say to your husband, noticing how his face falls.

However, the voice of his angel on earth brings a smile to appear on Rúben’s face. “Volta rápido, papá” (come back soon, daddy) - Matilde says, showing his daddy her newest growing teeth, that has been giving her mommy so much trouble and sleepless nights.

“Eu já só quero ir para casa, para vocês” (I just want to go home, to you) - by the way he is talking portuguese to you, you know he really means it. He takes the value of saudade very seriously, no translation can do that feeling justice.

Rúben goes to sleep with a headache. Maybe he should stop pushing his baby, stop begging him to kick into his hand. Maybe he should go back home with a different mindset. Trying to fight some kind of war with his son really sounds crazy to him, and he kind of hates himself for being so annoyed about something so trivial as that.

When he finally goes home, after so many weeks apart, you and Matilde are waiting home to greet him, you even cooked your daughter’s favourite cake - she insisted so she could share it with her daddy on their usual tea party, something that has became a tradition between Rúben and her already.

Berny the bunny and Johnny the bear are patiently waiting on the three year old girl’s lap for her most important guest to arrive - the little girl anxiously setting every thing up.

When you hear the door handle click open, Matilde immediately runs to the door.

“Papá, papá! You’re home!” - she girl screams as Rúben immediately picks her up and wraps her on his arms, taking in the wonderful and unmistakable scent of his daughter, breathing deeply and hugging her tightly, scared that she would run away if he puts her down - but she would never run away, she loves her daddy more than anything in this world, his embrace is her favourite place to be. The little girl wraps her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck even tighter, telling him how much she loves him and how much she missed him every day that he was away.

That alone made some tears appear in Rúben’s eyes, walking with his princess still in his arms, going to greet you with a passionate kiss, missing you like death. His hand instinctively goes to your belly - nothing happened. But Rúben is not going to worry about that anymore. He has his family by his side again, and that’s all that matters to him.

After the tea party with Matilde and a small family dinner, the little girl was already fast asleep on her father’s chest - never letting go of him since he arrived, and Rúben silently thanked her for that, really in need to feel his light near him as well, begging her to illuminate him a little more. Which she does, all the time, even if she doesn’t realise it. Rúben is already feeling lighter, being home near you and his babies helping him a lot with his mood.

After putting your sleepy daughter in her room, you and Rúben finally have some time to yourselves. He immediately wraps you in his arms, cuddling you close to him, hugging you and kissing your neck, face, shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

“Amo-te tanto” (I love you so much) - Rúben softly speaks in your ear, making your heart tingle like it’s the first time he is saying those words to you.

“We love you too” - you smile as you grab his hands that were already touching your belly, massaging your baby boy now.

Rúben smiles and tries his best to not think about the kicking topic.

“Is my boy behaving? Hope you’re not giving mommy much trouble already” - he speaks softly to his son, with a smile on his face.

When those words leave his mouth, Rúben’s hand feels a light kick. His face shows a shocked expression, not really believing what’s happening.

“What was this? This wasn’t a kick, right?” - he asks you, his mouth still agape at the feeling. You laugh at his reaction.

“Yes, it’s a kick, babe. Our son is answering your question” - you kiss the shock out of his face.

“Are you, filho? Are you answering daddy?” - Rúben keeps talking to the baby, hoping that he would keep kicking, amazed at the feeling of his baby’s kick for the first time.

Dinis kicks two more times, harder now at the sound of his dad’s voice, and Rúben’s eyes are full of tears, all the emotion and happiness falling down his face already.

“I can’t believe he’s finally kicking to me” - he says, more to himself.

“He loves you so much, never doubt that” - you reassure him.

“Oh god, I love you so much, Dinis. Dad will always be by your side, to play football with you, to teach you everything about space and astronauts, to take care of you and lead you the way” - he confesses while hugging you tightly now.

Rúben knows how badly you wanted this to happen, just as much as him. And he’s not a religious man, but it’s like he could feel all your prayers on him now, feeling such a powerful love wrapping your hearts, feeling extremely grateful for you, for being such a supportive wife and for bringing to life his biggest dream, the biggest loves of his life, his babies.

When you’re together, everything feels better to him, he’s only happy when he is holding his wife and daughter strongly in his arm - and now you are preparing your family for another beautiful adventure, almost welcoming your baby boy into this world - soon to be Rúben and Matilde’s best friend.

#dad!ruben #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias #thoughts about ruben #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 days

Note

Hi!! this is my first time requesting anything but i was wondering if you could do creepypasta boys were you kiss / compliment there scars!

Kissing their scars (various crp)

Bro I scratched my skin right next to this burn last week and it HURTS so bad

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack

Notes: Reader is GN, fluff, these boys need help

CWs: talks of violence in.. well all of them, mentioned of self harm in Jeff's part

Jeff

You decide to kiss the gashes in his cheeks, the ones that he carved.. he never really viewed them as anything very negative; sure it reminds him of the night he killed his entire gamily.. a fact he has a very wishy washy feeling of guilt over depending on the day

At first he thinks you're trying to kiss his cheeks but you make it very clear what you're trying to do when you begin to compliment them- they've healed so well since theyve been put there

Between the three he tries to play it off the most, of course it looks nice- they make him beautiful, and he always will be beautiful! What are you talking about reader?

Hes not at all willing to be vulnerable around you, it doesnt matter how long you two know each other or how close you get he never.. really let's himself just be in his feelings around others

But just know that hes going to be sitting in bed tonight looking up at the ceiling replaying what you've said and going back over the events that lead him here- rare moment of self reflection essentially

But to your face.. hes just the same as hes always been, even teasing you for having such a huuuge crush on him- bonus if the two of you are already dating

Eyeless Jack

You rarely ever get to see him without the mask, but when you do.. it's best not to do something like this the first time you see his eye sockets- hes very cagey about his face in the first place and hes not quiet ready to handle more attention drawn to it. The first few times it's off it's best to meet it with indifference

But when more time passes, you're more than welcome to test the waters. You already knew Jack had a fair collection of scars, but there was a different feel to the burned and gashed holes where his eyes would have been

He wont let you kiss him, mostly because hes unsure of what exactly the goo was made of, as well as naturally not liking the idea of someone putting their mouth where his eyes just to be- but you're allowed to trace your fingers along the scar tissue

Hes never going to tell you what happened unless theres a reason to, hes very firm when setting this boundary. It's just something that makes him feel.. gross..

He already doesn't talk much but he becomes silent as you trace your fingers and talk to him

He might go back to wearing his mask all the time again for a while but it's not exactly your fault, it was just a huge step- it's okay to back up a bit to process things

Ticci Toby

Due to his CIPA he has a bit of a disconnect between him and his injuries, scars included. He didnt really feel them when they were being made, sure he may have felt some pressure depending on what caused it but other than that, nothing really.. for a lot of them he doesnt have much thoughts- neither good nor bad

The only ones that really make him feel something are the ones he sustained from the crash- they're scattered across his body...

If you kissed or complimented any other scar he would tease you for being a little "weird", even making it a game to guess where he got the current scar from- with outlandish answers of course

But the second you reach one of /those/ scars the fun is immediately cut, you can tell theres something off

Similar to Jack, its something that has to be eased into due to the weight associated with the injuries. It's not the fact that it hurt when he got them but they serve as a reminder of what he lost

The only one who really tries to change the subject, perhaps by asking if you have any scars or markings on your body or simply changing the subject all together

Probably the only one who wouldn't want to be complimented due to the nature of some of his scars

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer imagine #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack imagine #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby imagine

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clangenrising · 2 days

Text

Month 14 - Newleaf

Now that the nausea was behind her, Mystique was starting to enjoy pregnancy again. It wasn’t as nice as the first time, obviously, what with her being stranded in the wild territories away from her Folk, but there were perks. For one, she got her pick of the prey and plenty of it. Whenever Russetfrond would get after her for being “gluttonous”, she would remind him she was eating for three and that would shut down any kind of argument. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like he was putting in extra hunting trips just for her which was nice.

As well, she had been able to use her growing stomach as an excuse to stop running combat drills with the Clan cats. Despite their attempts to keep it from her, she had inevitably learned about their plans to murder Razor and she wasn’t going to have any part in that. True, he wasn’t a good cat, she had come to accept that, but that didn’t mean they had to kill him. Still, Scorch in particular seemed insistent that it was the only option and she had a powerful hold over Goldenstar, or so it seemed.

Mystique often turned her options over in her head while she sunbathed, trying to think of an alternative solution, one where no one else died and she got to go home as soon as possible. She always came up short. When it came down to it, she was just one cat. What could she do? So she tried not to think about it and focused on getting plenty of food and rest.

Today, she was resting on top of the warriors’ den in a warm beam of sunlight, idly watching the goings on. Oddstripe and Aldertail were sharing tongues in the shade. Scorch finished talking with Goldenstar in hushed voices then joined Pantherhaze, Slatepaw, and Fogpaw as they headed out of camp. The little white tabby jumped in excitement, making Mystique laugh. It was strange to see a cat that looked so much like Ghost moving with that kind of energy instead of stomping around like an old curmudgeon.

The new kitten, Lake, padded out of the nursery and stretched with a big yawn. Aldertail looked up and waved her over with a smile.

Oddstripe grinned too and called, “Afternoon, Lake! How are you feeling?”

“Lots better!” Lake purred, padding over to them. “Those weird plants you gave me helped lots!” She was looking better too. Her ribs were slightly less visible under her fur, her coat glossier. Mystique had never seen a kitten look so poorly before. It was reassuring to see her improving so quickly.

“Aren’t they something?” Aldertail chuckled. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, yeah,” nodded Lake. “Starving!”

“I’ll grab you something,” said Aldertail, jumping to her paws.

“Gee, thanks miss!” the kitten said as if it were a rare wonder. Oddstripe smiled and pulled the kitten close to give her a few licks around the ears. She giggled and sat up tall to let him. Aldertail quickly returned with a bird from the prey pile and the two adults sat back and watched as the kitten tucked into it voraciously. Mystique caught them glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It made her skin crawl, just a little, which she felt guilty for.

She stood, hoping to get away for a bit and put them out of mind. She noticed Aldertail stiffening when she did, eyes darting over like Mystique was about to lunge for her, claws bared. She groaned under her breath and started out into the grass.

“Uh, Mystique, hold up,” called Sparrowpaw who was on guard duty. “Where are you going?” She’d nearly forgotten he was there.

“For a walk,” she shrugged, “I just want to be… away from here.”

“Well, I’ll come with you,” he said. It was a statement of fact, not an offer. She sighed. He was like a smaller, more pleasant Russetfrond.

“Fine, whatever,” she sighed. “I’m going to the river.”

“Alright,” Sparrowpaw said. “That’s okay.” She lashed her tail.

“I know,” she growled. “I wasn’t asking.” Back home, no one treated her this way. No one ever told her what she was and wasn’t allowed to do. Sure, Razor had jobs for her every now and then but those were things that needed to be done, not arbitrary restrictions on her free time. She was sick of it.

Sparrowpaw blinked in surprise but said nothing - a victory for her. She made her way briskly towards the river, not worrying about her long strides out pacing her smaller companion. Her back was starting to ache and all she could think about was dunking herself in some cool, fresh water.

When they reached the river, she slipped into the water without hesitation, sighing in relief at the sense of weightlessness. She rolled over to make sure all of her fur was doused thoroughly then threw her head back to get the water out of her eyes as she came up for air. She hummed pleasantly and looked over to see her chaperone hovering near the bank.

“Come on in,” she said, jerking her head in invitation. “The water’s great.”

“I’m alright,” said Sparrowpaw, settling down. “You really enjoy getting wet?”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s literally the best. I don’t know why so many cats are scared of it.”

“It’s not… scary,” he said, “just really unpleasant.”

“Weirdo!” Mystique called, easing herself down into the shallows to let the water flow over her.

“Maybe,” Sparrowpaw laughed awkwardly. They sat there in silence for a good, long while. Mystique closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun and just let herself enjoy the moment. She tried not to think about home or her Folk or her brother.

“Can I ask you a question?” said Sparrowpaw at one point.

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“Have you considered maybe staying after the kittens are born?” he asked. “Like, joining the Clan full time?”

“No,” Mystique said flatly. “No, I’m going back home the first chance I get.”

“Why?” asked Sparrowpaw.

“Uh, ‘cause it sucks out here?” she said. “You don’t know any better cause this is all you’ve ever seen, but being Exalted is a million times better than living out in the dirt and the heat. I get free food any time I want it. I have a soft bed and lots of great toys and it's always the perfect temperature inside. My Folk give me tons of attention and pets. Have you ever been pet before? It's the best.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sparrowpaw to find him looking unconvinced.

“I haven’t,” he said. “But don’t you think you would enjoy the freedom of living out here? There's satisfaction in hunting for your food and supporting your Clan.” He seemed so earnest, it was almost sad.

“No thanks,” Mystique snorted. “Not interested.”

He frowned. “I mean, if you stayed, maybe you and Russetfrond could stay together. I’m sure that you could make up if -”

“Look, kid,” she rolled over to look at him head on. “I don’t really care about trying to ‘make up’ with Bee Face Mc Pouterson.” Sparrowpaw’s ears pressed back against his head. “He was a bit of fun, nothing more than that. Honestly, he’s not even really my type, I was just bored.”

“O-oh,” Sparrowpaw swallowed. He looked pale. Mystique sighed. Maybe she had been too hard on the poor boy. Or maybe she’d traumatized him with her casual language. Clearly, these wild cats didn’t know how sex worked.

“What I mean to say is, it’s fine,” she said, swiping a wet paw over her face to cool it off. “I’ll have the kits and then go home. He’s happy, I’m happy, win-win.”

“Right,” Sparrowpaw said. “I guess we’ll just have to hope things go well.”

Mystique squinted. “You mean with the plan to kill my brother.”

Sparrowpaw paled further. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I thought you didn’t know about that.”

“I’m not dumb kid,” she said, “plus the camp is small. Sound travels.”

“Right…” He looked down at his paws, tail curling around them. “I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Why does it?” Mystique sat up a little taller. “Why can’t we just, like, talk to him?”

“Because we tried that,” Sparrowpaw said, looking up at her. “He killed Smokyrose.”

Mystique’s voice caught in her throat in a frustrated lump. “That was… That was an extreme circumstance,” she said. “It wouldn’t happen again.”

“You have to know that’s not true, right?” Sparrowpaw said earnestly. “I mean, he’s your brother. How can you not see what he’s like?”

“You don’t know him!” snapped Mystique, slapping one paw loudly against the surface of the water. Sparrowpaw flinched at the noise and she briefly felt guilty but she shoved the feeling down. “He’s my brother. He’s not a monster.”

“Sorry,” Sparrowpaw swallowed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Mystique sighed, a deep frown creasing her face. He almost sounded like Aldertail. It made the Shadow Truth wriggle deep in her gut, worming its way closer to her conscious mind. She dunked her head under the water to try and get away from the feeling but even the cold shock didn’t help much. She sighed, stood, and shook out her pelt, spattering the sand with droplets.

“I think I’m done,” she grumbled and headed back to camp to sulk.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #clangenrising #Mystique #Sparrowpaw #Lake #Aldertail #Oddstripe #Newleaf

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hollandorks · 2 days

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude three

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm alive!!! I don't want to talk about how long it's been since the last chapter because it's a little bit embarrassing. Anyways, I'm back! Hopefully! So here's a brief little Bruce POV to hold you over until the next real chapter, which should hopefully only be a week or two maybe? (Also, I apologize in advance....)

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.2k

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone.

Bruce's POV

“Bruce, my dear boy, I don’t tell you often enough, but you are…so stubbornly stupid it makes me feel twice my age.”

Bruce startled and whirled around to face Alfred. The older man was leaning casually along the work station where Bruce’s video equipment was, his cane next to him, legs crossed at the ankles.

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it again.

It was noon now, and he still hadn’t been to bed. He’d been out late staking out Maverick’s again, hoping to catch a lead on Frank Gallo or anyone that could lead him to the man, when Alfred’s call had come. Security breach. Elevator. The panic had almost killed him. Alfred’s next call came in when Bruce was almost home, telling him that everyone was safe. So he had changed direction and left to clean himself up to make an appearance as Bruce instead.

And still the fear lingered. Someone had been in his home, feet away from y/n, and he had yet to find any proof of how they had done it.

He wouldn’t–couldn’t–sleep until he was certain she was safe.

“What did I do this time?” Bruce finally asked. He turned back to the security footage he was pouring over. It terrified him that they could have been so close to y/n. That he could have been too late. That he could have–

He shut the thought down as quickly as it came. No use dwelling on it now.

“What haven’t you done? You imploded the most important relationship you have–repeatedly, if we’re being honest. You keep secrets from her but toe the line so recklessly it’s going to blow up in your face. You let your emotions get the best of you. And that’s just lately. Shall I go on?” Alfred recrossed his ankles in the other direction.

Bruce grit his teeth but said nothing. He restarted the security footage from the beginning and paused it frame by frame. A loud clack echoed around the abandoned station each time he smashed the button to go to the next frame.

“Let’s change tactics then. How long are you going to let her live in fear before you tell her that the Batman is watching over her from inside her home?”

Bruce’s jaw ached with the force of his clenched teeth. Still, he said nothing. First y/n had yelled at him, now Alfred. He knew his behavior was…abysmal to say the least. But he had more important things to focus on than everyone’s emotions, his own included.

He had to find Frank Gallo, and take down the rest of the family, once and for all. When that was done, when y/n was safe, he would think about all the ways he had ruined his relationship with her.

“Are you listening to me, Bruce?”

“I am trying,” Bruce said with a smack of his fist against the table, “to figure out who the fuck broke into my home and threatened y/n!” His voice echoed loudly around him, setting the bats to fluttering and chittering above them. He restarted the footage once again.

Alfred made a noise in his throat. “She hasn’t slept at all.”

Something oily slid down Bruce’s spine. “Neither have I.” It was a deflection and they both knew it. It killed Bruce to know y/n was so scared. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it–other than find those responsible and make them pay. She wouldn’t want his comfort, wouldn’t want him to hover, so he was doing the next best thing and trying to end it.

Alfred sighed. “All I’m saying is–”

“I know what you’re saying.”

“Then why do I have to keep saying it?”

Bruce went back to ignoring the older man. Let Alfred think what he wanted. Bruce had work to do. Nothing would get better until Frank Gallo and the rest of his family and cronies were gone for good.

What gives you the right to act like this? she’d asked, all of her anger turned towards Bruce like a roaring inferno. What gave him the right? He had admitted it to her right before that–I give too much of a shit.

She didn’t know he was still in love with her. That he always had been.

He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t see what was right in front of her face–who he was, how he felt, what it was doing to him. If she would just open her eyes, she would know.

Instead, she had yelled at him.

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it. But walking in and seeing her hold Officer Martinez’s hand…it made him crazy. He had acted like the worst type of bastard without even thinking. It was pure instinct, the urge to protect her even from a guy like Martinez rising so strongly within him that it was almost as if he had blacked out. Like someone else had taken over his body.

She rarely ever got mad at him. It had only happened a few times throughout their many years together. It was a sight to behold, her rage, and he had been equal measures impressed and angry both.

“I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after long stretch of silence. His voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Either help me figure this out or go back upstairs.”

He felt rather than saw Alfred bristle. He waited to get berated yet again, but Alfred merely pulled up the footage on another screen and got to work.

They spent a few minutes in silence, Bruce’s eyes burning from lack of sleep, his thoughts churning. She hasn’t slept. He ached to go upstairs, to tell y/n that she was safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to her.

But it already had, and all of it had been his fault.

He knew without a doubt, just as he had known three years ago, that she was safest far away from him. And look what had happened already–the more she’d become entangled with him, with the Batman, the worse things got. She had spent three years in Bludhaven, far away from him, perfectly safe. And the minute she had come home to Gotham, come home to him…it had all gone to shit. Really it had gone to shit before that–when her grandmother had left the tower for the last time.

Bruce liked to think that was his fault, too, not that he’d ever it admit it out loud.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Alfred said into the silence. His voice was gentle, almost placating.

“Mm.” It wasn’t working, then, Bruce thought. He already felt guilty enough.

“I hate seeing you like this. Both of you.” Alfred sighed again. “I just think that talking about it–all of it–would help you both. It might ease the strain of…everything else going on.”

Bruce couldn’t see how it could help, only how it would make things worse. But he didn’t say that to Alfred, merely nodded and kept working.

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right.

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

taglist:

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#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #battinson x you

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meichenxi · 3 days

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languages, travel, identity, grief

Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.

I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.

That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.

I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.

And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.

I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.

And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.

But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.

There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!

And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.

So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.

You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.

I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.

It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.

And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.

It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.

Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.

#langblr #chinese #languages #culture #china #:(((((((((((

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