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midascrow · 3 months

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Lucifer x GN!Reader

A Fan of the Devil?

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synopsis: Charlie’s father is introduced to the hotels “Gardener”, and comes to find out that they’re a fallen soul from above. He’s also surprised to learn that they’re a fan of his.

warnings: religious pressure(?)

an: Part 1? If this is well received ofc. This is told from Lucifer’s perspective and therefore his view and inner thoughts regarding what’s going on around him. I also threw in the idea that he’s bad with names cuz that feels very accurate to me lol

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He hadn’t expected his daughter’s friends to be so….eccentric, upon meeting them. Of course he knew Charlie’s heart bled gold for any sinner around, but he thought-, more so he hoped that she would keep somewhat better company.

Especially in the revelation of this “RaDiO DEmOn”.

Baggie- Mag- Vaggie, was alright he supposed. She loves his daughter, perhaps just as much as he does,that much he was sure. And while he was a bit disheartened by having not known of their relationship prior, he was still content and moved by the way the two leaned towards each others embrace as they spoke.

His heart ached. Just a bit.

“Are they up in their room again?”

“I think they’re in the Garden again, hon.”

Garden? The hotel had a garden?

“Oh! Oh maybe we could-“

“I don’t know…you know how they can be about us going in there..”

“Pshhhh! I’m sure it’ll be fine Vaggie! Plus remember how they always talked about meeting him??”

Meeting who? Who’s meeting who??

Was there some kind of owl in here?

“Dad!”

“Ah!”

Charlie blinked down at her father in an awkward beam, watching his red eyes dart around nervously, for a moment or two. “Who?!-“ His throat dried and swelled in embarrassment, cracking his voice as he fixed his pride with a dust off his hat. “Uhm…Yes? Char?” Nailed it. Totally. Very cool and suave of you big boss.

His daughter smiled, a crease in her brow before she clasped his arm and tugged him forward, away from the peering eyes of the others and down a long corridor. “There’s someone- Well-there’s someone who’s been dying to meet you! Yknow ever since they arrived here it’s just be non stop-“

Someone wanted to meet him? Why??

Surely they were a weirdo.

His grimace must’ve given him away, because Vaggie, who he hadnt noticed following them till the moment of, gave a small hum, to cut through her girlfriends words.

“They were a bit of a fanatic on earth apparently.”

He dead panned.

“A cultist.”

“No.”

“A satanist?”

“That’s not even what satanists do!”

“…..”

“….A banker-“

“Just-!….Wait and you’ll see.”

He fell silent at that, a frown pulled onto his pale lips as his feet dragged him towards wherever they were headed.

He was a bit stumped when they came upon two large doors, both decorated in shimmering glass mozaics, depicting two dividing scenes. An Angel; hands carefully cupped around a beautifully red apple, kneeled down towards the other mural, was depicted on the right. And on the Left, in the same position, with the same red apple, a demon.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Wow Honey! I uh- Didn’t know this door even existed! It’s very cool, yes yes very cool- now let’s head back to the-!” He called nervously, a half witted laugh leaving his sharp tooth smile as Charlie nodded vigorously, shiney eyes aglow as she took hold of the golden handles of the ornate doors, pulling them open with a mighty huff as a golden light spilled from inside.

It was startling to say the least, fact proven by how Lucifer felt his wings practically shoot from his back in defense, feathers cascading down in time with the petals and leaves that followed an imaginary breeze through the threshold.

His ears strained to hear the quiet sound of rushing water and leaves shaking, birds chirping and insects buzzing quietly somewhere in the back.

His skin warmed. Not in the way it naturally did from hells weather, but as if the sun was beaming down on his skin for the first time in eons. Of course, he knew it was fake. But it was so close.

“Oh- shit! Charlie!” A voice barked beyond the golden glow of the garden, a figure stepping out from the shadows of a large bush, covered in leaves and flowers as they stumbled clumsily through, racing towards the door and slamming it shut, completely ignorant to the king beside their hip, who’s gaze pierced them in silent wonder.

He hadn’t felt that in a while.

“What did I tell you about coming in unannounced! You could throw off the entire ecosystem! The slightest temperature shift might make one of the flowers wilt or one of the fruits shrivel! At least warn me before-“

“Ahem.”

The sinner paused, shoulders jumping stiffly as they froze, finger pointed towards Charlie rudely from their rant before their gaze shifted to the side.

He heard the way their breath hitched, and his chest puffed slightly in pride, wings fluttering just slightly.

“Hello there.” He was being cheeky, he knew that, though his smile felt a tad too genuine, caused by the sheer awe that glimmered across the sinners face at the sight of him. “Lucifer Morningstar, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to dislike that look. He was the avatar of pride after all.

And a small part of him took a rather large enjoyment in the stuttering and stumbling of the sinner before him.

“Y-Your highness! Oh my gosh-“ He grinned “I wasn’t expecting your company- I would’ve dressed more- well I-“ Vaggie coughed from the side, redirecting their attention as they picked the stray foliage form their hair and clothes in a frenzy, towards the garden around them.

With a startled gasp they quickly stepped to the side, nearly tumbling in their haste as they held their arm out, presenting the garden to the king. “It’s..it’s an honor to meet you Sir.” Your voice was steadier, but still thick with anxiety that stuck like molasses to your tongue.

He watched your hand tremble, just slightly. Like his.

His wings fluttered again. A warm feeling bursting through his chest and into his eyes, giving them that shine that reflected the faux golden glow of the sun in the large green room. “The pleasures all mine, My dear. Do you mind explaining what it is you have-.…here”

His smile faltered, gaze stuck on the tree that stood tall and proud in the center of the spacious garden. Its leaves and branches stretched far, each adorned by beautiful red..apples, that hung and shimmered in the light. He expected the familiar ache of guilt to swarm his heart, but was surprised when he found himself breathless instead.

“I hope it’s..somewhat accurate. I’ve only seen recreations of course, never the real thing..” Your voice was a bit muffled in his mind.

He felt you step cautiously beside him, as he continued to gaze reverently at the scene before him. Shadows and memories danced past his eyes and through the patches of sun that decorated the floor. He swore he could hear quiet calls and whispers mix with the rustling leaves.

“You made this?” It wasn’t really a question.

Plants weren’t common in hell. Especially none such as this. They simply couldn’t grow in the rotted soil that spread across his kingdom. And there was simply no pure water to be found that could sustain them. So how-

“I might’ve take a few things before I fell.” You laughed shyly, cheeks warmed under the sun and the intense gaze of the King that snapped towards you.

Lucifer finally got a proper look at you. At your eyes and your features. Your afflictions. There was no denying you were a human soul. It was clear as day and still beat deep in your being. But..

“You were in heaven?” He gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape as he turned fully towards you, the grip on his cane tight as he scanned over the few demonic markings that lined your body, and the big golden X that flashed across your entire being. For only his eyes to see.

A virtuous soul cast out? Was that even possible? To turn away a true, virtuous soul, one of the few who had made it into heavens gate from their life on earth-

“It’s safe to say I didn’t truly agree with heavens teachings. It was too…polished.” There was an easy going smile that matched your tone, as you let your eyes wander towards the tree that wisely outshined every other plant in the garden. You continued.

“Heaven wasn’t my first choice. Frankly I didnt believe in it to begin with. But my folks were..somewhat of zealots. They wanted the best for me, I know that. But I missed…” You paused, seemingly thoughtful as Lucifer watched you with rapt attention, you both becoming ignorant to the two lovers that slipped out.

Charlie smiled softly to herself. Her dad needed this.

“I missed the free will that their religion took away from me.” Your gaze was knowing, almost wise like the tree when it peered back into his own, and Lucifer swore he felt something crack. Something lift from his shoulders and pulled his wings away, letting them spread proudly, in a way he hadn’t felt or experienced in years. Possibly ever.

“You know….I always enjoyed the story of you they told on earth.” Lucifer grimaced again, the vision of you dimming for a moment as he glanced away.

“Is that so? I’m sure they’re singing my praises.” It was a dry laugh, his hands gesturing in a faux confidence, but his lips quirked when he heard your muffled one.

“No, many aren’t. Most seem to align themselves with Heavens view…” You hummed thoughtfully and stepped forwards into the soft grass that peaked through the cracks of brimstone. Lucifer followed, instinctively. He felt leashed by your presence, though not necessarily in a bad way.

“Though there are plenty, who think a little more like me. There’s many versions of your story. I always knew that the original couldn’t be the full story. Too..one sided. Time on earth taught me that there was always a second side. Someone’s else thoughts-, perspective. Falling only confirmed that.”

You words tangled with your fingers that fluttered across the branches of a close bush, caressing a small flower that curled into your touch. “The first thing I did was look for the story. Of the garden. I wanted to replicate it, though admittedly there was never much detail to go off!”

You laughed again and the sound was quickly becoming a favorite of his. It was gentle..understanding. It almost hurt.

“And when I read the story..it was different. More romantic for sure.” You flushed softly, cheeks warm again as you recalled the way the story of Lucifer and Lilith warmed your soul. “But..more honest. Heart breaking even. I couldn’t believe how horrible it was must’ve been…and never knowing how amazing your gift was..” you turned to him again, your gaze so earnest and true that it made him step back.

Lucifer couldn’t deny the warmth in his own cheeks. You were pretty..pretty? That felt mundane. You practically glowed in the garden. And while it wasn’t a perfect representation of what Eden had been, it was better.

Eden had always been..one dimensional. It lacked the depth and feeling that Lucifer had hoped to give humanity. It was gorgeous, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t real.

This…This, is what he had hoped for the garden to be. Alive. Truly alive.

And…you brought it life…because of him? It didn’t feel right in a way. Having spent so many years locked away by himself and mourning the sin and ruin he had created from his own selfish wish.

Selfish? Had it been selfish? At the time, when he had done it, it didn’t feel selfish. He wanted humanity to live. To be alive! Truly, and honestly alive.

And you were so Alive. You were dead here in hell and yet you were breathing life into this gorgeous scene because you chose to. You chose to fall too. You chose to be in hell.

Because of him? Because of his…gift?

It was ironic almost. Laughable even.

Your lips pursed, a worried sweat on your brow as you lost that roaring confidence that bled into your words prior. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to preach or anything-“ He stopped you.

“So-.…you’re a fan?” His lips screwed into a wobbly smile, embarrassment creeping up his neck at his less then poetic comment, though the laugh you graced him with almost made the shame worth it.

“You could say that. I personally think I hold the title of number one fan, but you know beggars can’t be choosers I suppose.” You gestured animatedly, a small smirk on your lips as you professed your..favor towards the king, and he gleamed.

“Well!” His hands flew to his suit, straightening it out and letting his chest puff out from its slumped frame. “May I know the name of my, alleged, number one fan?” His words were coy, smug as he gestured to you with a flourish that he had shown to the other residents. (Of course till you had so rudely stunned him to silence)

The smile you gifted him was holy.

“(Y/N)…Your highness.” Your bow was playful, a little awkward and strained, but it made him laugh.

“(Y/n), hm? I’ll be sure to remember that.” His throat cleared briefly, “I…hope you wouldn’t mind me stopping by sometime again soon..I’d like to hear a bit more about your garden.” He liked the way you looked at him in this moment. Disbelieving but so hopeful. Like he was something, someone to gaze at in such a way.

“I’d be honored.”

Maybe you had a fan of your own now, as well.

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#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #x reader #x gn reader #charlie morningstar

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gay-dorito-dust · 26 days

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Could I request Jason Todd with an s/o who enjoys making art of him? Sketches, paintings, etc.

Jason never saw himself as ever being a muse for someone else’s art, their reason to immeditly rush to their sketch pads or canvas and let the ideas flow out and take form however that maybe.

It was a reality he had came to accept until you came along and happily challenged this view he had on himself, and without fail you’ve proven him wrong again and again on multiple occasions.

Finally he had became a muse to somebody and he couldn’t help but be touched and feel extremely loved and appreciated whenever you shown him a simple sketch of him doing something mundane, whether that be making dinner for you both or reading a book, you just had a way of showing him how you see him through your art.

‘It’s a simple sketch I made this morning, nothing fancy.’ You’d shrug as Jason looked over your drawings of him and smiled.

‘If this is what you call a simple sketch then I’m all out of luck in ever attempting to take up drawing, this is amazing sweetheart!’ He’d say as he peppered your face with sweet, thankful kisses before moving away to look at the drawing once more, taking note on how much attention to detail there was in what you claimed was a simple sketch.

You drew him with such love for everything that made him in his entirety. You took extra care in drawing his every scar that littered his body, big and small. From the largest scar running from his collarbones and down his entire upper body, to the various scars scattered on his neck, forearms, hands and back.

You didn’t try to hide his impurities and instead actively chose to emphasise them in a way that he never thought existed. You didn’t try to make him look palatable nor tried to draw/paint him in anyway that wasn’t true to his character and he loved it. He loved the fact that you saw him for who he was and found him worth spending hours upon hours of drawing for.

‘I’m sure you’ll pick it up jay bird, besides I like drawling you.’ You admit.

‘Why?’ He asks softly.

‘What?’

‘Why do you like drawing me? What is it about me that worth immortalising on a canvas or in the pages of a sketchbook?’ Jason says as he looks at other sketches/paintings you’ve done of him in your spare time and felt his heart grow bigger with each and every one he came across.

You even sketched him in that stupid bunny onesie that Dick got him after loosing a bet, much to his dismay and the rest of his family’s amusement. Once upon a time he would’ve been ashamed at that his most embarrassing moment had been sketched out onto paper, but now he just shrugs and laughs it off, finally finding it funny as everyone else did at the time.

‘Because everything about you is worth immortalising, whether it be as a sketch or as a painting, you -Jason Todd- are worth remembering well into the future.’ You tell him as you took the sketchbook out of his grasp and settled it aside to hold his face in your hands, smiling upon seeing him melt deeper into your touch. ‘I didn’t feel like portraying you in any way that wasn’t true to who you are, at least in my eyes.’ You add.

‘And what do I look like in your eyes?’ Jason speaks barely above a whisper as he looks at you with storm grey eyes, a stark difference to the bright cobalt blue of his youth.

‘Perfectly imperfect.’ You kiss his forehead. ‘A Human with a heart of pure gold despite everything you’ve been through.’ You press another kiss to his nose. ‘A true protector of Gotham who bares the scars to prove it every night.’ You finished praising him by place a soft kiss to his plush, slightly chapped lips and pressing your forehead against his. ‘You’re Jason Todd. My muse.’

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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woodlandwrites · 2 months

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i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow.

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence.

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot.

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned.

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold.

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle.

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move.

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you.

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along.

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries.

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized.

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother.

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students.

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life.

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion.

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over.

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves.

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different.

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on.

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself.

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

“Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful.

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care.

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person.

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order.

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea.

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point.

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.”

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear.

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.”

“Get out of my head.”

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it.

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished.

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault.

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought.

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.”

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.”

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better.

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off.

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura.

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.”

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision.

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness.

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation.

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply.

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words.

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions.

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries.

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background.

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief.

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful.

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.”

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #pjo fanfic #pjo #Spotify

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i4oba · 2 months

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nct dream as… / times of a day 𓈒✳︎🚃

[— might be a little suggestive here and there!]

✰ 6:45 am .. jaemin

helios, through the half lidded eyes of yours was there to greet both of you at the same time—you could feel its hands coming near your bare body, the rays of the sun hugging your shape perfectly, casting such beautiful silhouettes behind, you and jaemin blending all together in your hazy state. you could feel the weight of his arms on your waist, hugging you so tight, sweet nothings leaving his lips, barely above a breath, hoarse voice laced with sleep. his scent, the sweet fragrance is dizzying, the warmth of him engulfing you just as much as helios’ breath of the morning; the sky is rosy, as if it was blushing while taking its time to fully wake up, faint shades of orange and yellow dancing through it endlessly. it’s such a beautiful way to start a day, with your lover all over you, deeply ingrained in your existence.

✰ 1:20 pm .. chenle

with the fierce determination of hermes, an arm slung around your waist; you were there—sun burning the uncovered skin of your shoulders, sweat making its way down on your temples as you took a look at the beautiful postcard in your hands, quickly snatched from a souvenir shop you passed barely twenty minutes ago. with such beautiful words and phrases, cursive letters and the scent of blooming flowers, you handed it over to your lover, hands aching to intertwine. he takes it, honest smile on his face, mumbling something along the line of “i’m the luckiest guy around”, wanting nothing but strolling around the foreign city for the rest of the day, stopping just for a minute in front of a pastry shop. there are freshly baked croissants!

✰ 3:25 pm .. jisung

was it all just a coincidence or did he know about all of it, you cannot be quite sure of but you, in fact enjoyed the way he pulled you straight into the sudden dancing flashmob. the sun was shining, birds singing endlessly along with the folk music played by a kind-looking band of teenagers, flute and harp harmonising together with the occasional sound of the guitar; you did not know how to dance or what kind of dance you should think of, but your lover pulled you closer to himself and took the lead, precise moves following one another as you felt yourself become a gracious nymph all of a sudden, trapped in a human’s fragile body. “honey, you’re doing so great,” jisung beamed happily, hands travelling lower on your skin, smile so wide and heartwarming. “i love you, so much,” he mumbled into your ears, voice losing the battle against the beautiful music.

✰ 7:05 pm .. jeno

with dionysus musing in your ears, you take a sip of the rich, sweet red wine your lover poured a few seconds before. the important event you two should have gone to long forgotten, with absolutely lust filled intentions you touch jeno’s rosy lips, tugging at his messily made tie, thighs rubbing against each other as you pulled him closer to yourself. the voice of dionysus slowly fading, you could feel the inviting hands of eros, guiding every movement of yours with extra care, fully planned with a hint of sinful acts. you sighs against your boyfriend’s mouth, not caring about consequences, reputation nor anything else, as you put his hands on either side of your hips. you wanted him—you needed him at that exact moment, the taste of his lips intoxicating, almost too permanent.

✰ 8:50 pm .. renjun

with lips slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them quickly, renjun focused on the way your bare body looked behind the canvas. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your curves, the way your hands did such a bad job at hiding yourself, timid reflection making it all too complicated to even think about anything but you. he felt drunk, as he watched your neck, the beautiful thighs of yours, wanting nothing more than to look deeply into your eyes and touch you, touch you everywhere he can and everywhere you’d let him to do so; you were everything and even more, compared to helen of troy, magical and enchanting, alluring. “can you please finish that painting, my junnie…” you mumbled quietly, shaking your head slightly. “i need you.”

✰ 10:45 pm .. haechan

“you should never come back to this studio, man, taeyong will kick your ass,” you laughed so hard, tears were about to fall out of your eyes, replaying the freshly made song of your boyfriend. he was a self proclaimed master producer but the thing is—it was rather funny than good. of course you appreciated his effort in making a lovesong for you, to confess for the hundreth time and once more. you were his muse supposedly and even if it was unlistenable, you loved it. at least more than taeyong, who would be furious if he knew you two were there, late into the night, making out on the couch of his studio until your lips were swollen, out of breath and with only one thing in your mind: love, love and love. you would never do anything else, even if it meant taking the risk of battling twelve times like heracles.

✰ 11:35 pm .. mark

being faced with the rolling credits after god know’s how many movies being watched, you slowly rested your head on mark’s shoulder. you reached out for his hand so you could take it in yours, not caring about silly actors’ and actresses’ love affairs or the world ending in front of you. all that mattered was the two of you, the adoration you felt for him, how he needed to have you close to him. his hair falling into his eyes, you tried to brush it away from there cautiously, caressing his cheek ever so lightly. you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you did at that moment, every rational thought vanishing from your brain at the beautiful sight of him, as if he was the long lost son of the oh so wonderful aphrodite. “do it, love. kiss me and i’m yours,” was all he said quietly.

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undercoverpena · 13 days

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13. hello yellow

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter thirteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.3k (she became a biggie) chapter warnings: reference to anxious!reader. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this is the one you've been waiting for... .

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It grows on your tongue on a cooler morning—the birds having only just begun chirping, the sun really only just rising. But he's there, truck parked outside as he brings you coffee, for no other reason than just because.

It's almost hard not to say the three words.

They thicken in your throat when you surprise him at work, having already spoken to Harry, asking if you can steal him for an extra half an hour. His face brightens, practically illuminating when he sees you at the register. It continues to do so when you take him back to the place where the two of you had lunch, his face beaming.

You’re not sure how the words don’t escape there and then.

There are a bunch of moments saying them could have been right. It would be so easy to let them slip out, but then he'll say something that makes you laugh, or his phone will go off and the conversation shifts, and you wait a little longer.

But you don’t just want right, you want perfect.

Just like him.

You know how we love Harold?

Yes?

He might have recommended me to a friend of his for some paintwork.

This sounds like a good thing, yet it feels very bad for me.

The only date the man can do is the day I said we’d go to the beach.

If this isn’t you asking me to come and help you be your a-paint-tice I’m going to be really let down.

You want to come paint a man’s house with me?

I want to do anything with you, Butterscotch.

It vibrates from two rooms away—buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

Your feet rush for you, socks almost making you a health hazard as you round the corner from your bedroom to the hallway. A laugh trying to escape from giddiness as your palms press into your off-white walls, before using it for leverage to continue.

Moving, almost running, not looking where you’re going, only realising at the last second when your foot collides with it.

Pain.

It pulses and makes tears spring to your eyes instantly. The hurt is more than radiating, it erodes, grows and pounds.

Fucking toolbox.

Hand grasping it as you half-hobble to the little side table where your phone almost topples off.

Butterscotch <3

A caller ID that usually brings an immediate smile to your face, and still, even as you clutch your foot in your hand and drag your finger across the screen, it somehow still does.

“Hey, I’m almost there—did you want lunch in or out?”

Stuffing a wince down your throat, you blink back fresh tears as your thumb presses down on a particular spot. “I need to show you something but maybe out?”

“You okay?” No, you want to hiss—wanting to add extra O’s and everything. “You sound off?”

Swallowing bitterness, you try to smile as you lower your foot—putting some weight on it as you suddenly become warm, and uncomfortable.

“Rainy?”

“Butterscotch, I bet you’re one street—you’re literally pulling up.”

You swear you hear him grin. Almost being able to tell even from the way he puts his vehicle in park that his smile is growing into his cheeks and cascading over his eyes. It makes your own appear, somehow rising to the surface and kicking its feet furiously to appear.

By the time you’d end the call, quickly check your foot inside your sock and put it back in place, your eyes catch his coming through your front door. Letting in amber streams of sunlight that paint across the hardwood in warm, honeyed hues. Bringing in warmth, a calmness, the pain suddenly non-existent when you see him slide out the key from the keyhole—the one you’d told him to keep, the one you’d give him, told him to use.

The sight pulls at something inside of you, making it easier to smile, to beam as he closes it behind him and walks himself up to you—mouth pressing to yours. The taste of coffee and mint flooding your mouth, your fingers full of his curls as his hand presses to your lower spine—bodies flush, his keys clanging in the air.

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” he whispers, teeth teasing your bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “But, baby, what are you wearing?”

His hand slides down the plastic, water-proof full-body overalls you have on. It rustles, making your skin even warmer when he takes another long look at you, and laughs.

Not a giggle.

Not a quiet, hidden and disguised laugh. A full-on roar of laughter.

“I got it for next week,” you exclaim, heat rising up your neck. “You told me I’d need to wear something that would cover me—wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“Baby, I meant not your romper—'cause you’ll get paint on your legs. I didn't mean a… hazmat suit?”

Folding your arms, you take a step back, face scrunching in a wince you’re not sure he notices as you roll your eyes before turning on your heels to change. “I’m new to this.”

“I know, I know,” he says, trying to stifle his laugh, hand reaching out. “Baby, wait, I’m sorry. Okay? You just don’t need—fuck, Rainy. I can see your ass through this.”

“No, you cannot.”

“I fucking can.”

Letting him pull you into his arms, you shake your head, stupidly unable to stop yourself from grinning, before his lips brush over yours. Your nails digging into the t-shirt on his waist, mouth parting as he eases you back, a grimace hidden against his tongue as his knee nudges between your plastic-covered thighs.

“Frankie,” you whisper, it leaving your tongue like a whine.

He only hums in response, it vibrating against you, fingers tightening in his curls as his knee rises that bit more, friction so readily there, easily able to rock your hips if you so want to. Until it rustles, furrows, a noise so unsexy you feel him slowly grin against your mouth.

“Can’t believe you just wore underwear under this,” he teases, dropping his knee.

Your breath finds your lungs with more ease as you roll your lower lip between your teeth, admiring him, unable to stop ogling the man who is very much all yours after the position he just had you in.

“I should change before we go out for lunch,” you mumble. “Before I flash everyone.”

Moving away from him before he can stop you, you let out a groan as your bad foot flattens, unable to hide the misstep. Hearing him call your name, you're quick to wave him off. Digging your nails into your palm as you take (what feels like a thousand) steps until you’re unzipping the ridiculous plastic, all-in-one, and begin yanking drawers and doors open until you’re standing in something more appropriate for lunch.

Half-closing your bedroom door behind you, you don’t need to call for him, you know where he’ll be. Finding him exactly where you expected, tape measure in hand—right in front of one of the office windows.

“Thought you could do that in your head.”

Snorting, shooting you a look over his shoulder, he grins. “Wanna make sure I’m exact.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

Leaning against the frame, not obviously showing you’re taking the weight from your now pulsing foot, you try to smile. Listening as he begins telling you about getting something for your windows, instead of thinking how you should ice it, get him to wrap it, maybe ask him—politely—if he’d put his fucking toolbox away between visits before you actually break something.

Somehow, you hear enough to follow what he’s saying, about how blinds would help, that they’d give you more daylight while also shielding you if you wish to work in the dark—they’d be more flexible, modern. He could help you fit them.

And it dawns on you, that while you've had it in your head about curtains, this is a thing you should have thought of yourself.

A thing which feels so obvious now he’s said it that it irks you that you haven’t. Because blinds would be better. Digging a hole in you, making you feel silly, stupid, and foolish—

The realisation makes you pinch your forearm and take a deep breath. You re-centre yourself, thinking about the one image that inspired all of this, imagining it with blinds instead of what had remained fixed in your head, hung and stuck.

The problem with desiring something inspirational is that it isn’t always tailored to the person who desires it. To you, who will be using the room. Yet, Frankie has thought of you—like the considerate, beautiful man that he is.

“From your face, you don’t want blinds?” he asks.

Your mouth opens, before closing. Putting some weight down as your eye narrows in pain—it floods through you as you try not to frown. “It’s not that—I just thought curtains. Thought I preferred the way curtains look, is all.”

Frankie shrugs, staring out of the window, before glancing back. “Curtains it is then.”

“But, blinds do make sense.”

And you can see it, the way he chews his tongue—the way he swallows words he wishes to say. It flares something within. Rolling his head on his shoulders, and scratching the back of his head, he smiles.

“But you want curtains.”

“I did.”

“Then have curtains.”

He’s being nice—that’s what you remind yourself. He’s being kind and thoughtful. He’s taking what you’re saying and giving you exactly that.

Yet it feels… bad.

It makes you all of a sudden not want it—anger bubbling, trying to grow wider in your stomach. Instead, wanting him to tell you that you should have blinds, for all the reasons he’s listed, because it makes sense. They’re practical, and easy; it’ll block the sun out if it’s a bright day. They’ll even look modern; following the theme of the room.

And the fact he isn’t reminding you of that makes you mad. So much you feel it clawing up your throat, all ash and brimstone; flames and bonfire.

But you’re not mad at him. You’re mad at yourself for not looking. You’re not mad at him, just his toolbox. You’re not mad at him. You’re mad—

It repeating. Swirling. Shifting around the imaginary plug hole in your head as you wait for it to fall through and douse whatever it is that is brewing inside of you.

“I didn’t think of it like you did, so let’s have blinds.”

“It’s okay, it’s really—”

“But, they make sense, Frankie. You just said so.”

Jaw tightening, he hides his annoyance with a smile. “But, baby, you don’t want blinds, so let me just measure for—”

Standing straight, unable to hide the miniature sob from pain, you follow it with: “Stop being nice to me.”

He blinks. Both at your tone and the words that snap through the air as your palm pushes against your forehead, hoping to quiet it, the simmering anger that bubbles and thickens like soup.

“Rainy—”

“You don’t… I’m not broken, Frankie. Sometimes we can just… disagree. You can tell me I’m wrong.”

“I know that.”

He says it so quickly, all with a colder edge to his words. Ice threatening to wrap around them, freeze, as they go to land, pellet. Bruise against you.

Tilting your head, you stare at him—knowing you should stop. Remove your finger from the metaphorical scab. “Do you? Because ever since the other month you’ve been… extra nice.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It is when I’m furious with you,” you snap, it’s out now, you think.

Chest tight, things unfurling and uncoiling, flames ripping through you as though all the emergency doors have flung open and allowed it to breathe through every part of you.

“When I’m mad that I tripped over your toolbox again because you didn’t put it away. Because you likely did something nice for me and forgot. But now I’ve really hurt my foot—”

“—Baby, why didn’t you—”

But you ignore him. Not even waving him off, just continuing, “—and that I can’t decide if I want curtains or blinds and yet you make a very good argument for blinds that I hadn’t considered and you always do that—have amazing ideas, great insight, plus, you seemingly know me better than I know me, which is so lovely, but I'm mad at myself for not thinking of it. But, you, you didn't do that, because you understand me.”

“Is this a bad thing?”

No, you think as your mouth jams shut. Staring. Blinking. Because of course, it isn’t. It’s just that it’s never been something you’ve had, never experienced, never thought could possibly be given to you.

A thing that you both love, so much, but also feel is going to be ripped from you at any moment. Better not to have it, than lose it. No skill to prepare for this level of care, so used to having to make decisions and choices and have no one offer to help.

But he’s not going.

He’s standing, hands at his sides, line between his brows. Confusion trying to crawl over him and lather his features, but he seems to be fighting it, stopping it. His eyes somehow remain soft even as your mouth hands open, more words set to spit and fire—

“I need. I need a moment.”

And you don’t wait for the okay or the sight of his face falling.

Just moving, hurrying. Feet trying to carry you through to the kitchen as your palms use the wall as a crutch to do so, finding a counter to rest on, to lean on, to breathe against as thick, uncontrollable tears begin to paint your cheeks. Whether from the pain or the fact you’d snapped. Unable to hold them back from rumbling out when your forehead presses against cool wood as you take breaths in and out, in and out.

Doing so until the pain dries on your cheeks and you’re merely resting, taking the moment you said you needed before you hear him clear his throat. Before he asks if he can come closer and if he can look at your foot, two things you quickly nod for—wanting to take it back, apologise, even explain. Instead, you let him aid you up onto the counter, slide the sock from your foot assess it and turn it, finger brushing over your skin as light as a feather as he asks does it hurt here, or what about here?

It makes your heart flutter.

Makes it even harder not to blurt three words at him, when really he deserves a chorus of them for what in the hell just happened. So, you lead with:

“I’ve decided that I don’t like fighting with you.”

Snorting, he picks up the sock from the floor, easing it slowly back over your toes. “It’s not my favourite thing we do together either.”

Smirking, you stare down at him. Watching him. “I don’t want you to think I’m fragile. That’s all.

“That you can’t challenge me just because of what happened the other month. Because it’ll happen again. But I can still make choices, you can still tell me I’m wrong—sometimes, I need you to tell me I’m wrong, because if you agree with me all the time, you won’t push me to be better. I’ll just stay stagnant, and choose curtains when I really think I’ll regret it and want blinds.”

Standing, he places his hands on either side of your thighs on the counter, letting out a heavy exhale as he looks at you, as he stares from eye to eye, before whispering your name. The one which sounds so kind in his mouth, that sounds like it matters—that it holds importance and weight, even if you prefer Rainy.

“I don’t think you’re fragile,” he whispers as you slide your hand over his, watching his eyes soften, heal. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I did.”

Half-smiling, you nod. Eyes searching his, waiting to see if the lie appears when he blinks, whether it spreads out like paint touching water and if it makes his truthful eyes murky. But it never comes. Instead, his hand cups your cheek, in a way that centres you and makes you only want to look at him.

Exhaling, he smiles. “I just don't want to make you choose something you don't want. That's all, baby.”

Eyeing him chewing words, weighing up whether it’s worth it to speak them or let them slide back into the crevice they slithered from. Because it’s painful, maybe far too much truth for him, can see it in the way it makes lines appear across his face, as though it’s fracturing him to remember.

“I wasn’t really mad at you.”

Slowly, a grin breaks out. “Yes, you was.”

“Okay, a little bit, but it wasn’t your fault. So, I’m sorry. But I am mad at your toolbox, it really hurt.”

“I’ll be sure to tell it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly part your legs, tugging on him to move between them, wrapping them around his waist as he shyly smiles. “Been thinking.”

“About how you now want curtains again?”

Pinching him, hearing him hiss, you smirk. “Too soon, Morales. No. I’ve been thinking that the cupboard closest to the office door.” He hums in response, it vibrating against your collarbone as he kisses it. “Think that’s where your toolbox should live.”

You feel him grin against your skin, blow warm air in an exhale against it. “You making room for my tools now.”

Lifting his chin, nose bumping against the tip of his, you mirror his smile. “I want to make room for all of you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Pressing a peck to his lips, you wipe your thumb over it. “Yeah.”

Babe, what is the attire for a kid's soccer match?

Comfort. It’s a lot of standing at the sidelines and hopeful cheering.

So knee-high socks and tight shorts are a no?

Fuck. That’s a fucking image.

Help me, because what I’ve Googled isn’t helping me.

I have a spare shirt you can wear.

Does it have Morales on the back?

It actually does.

Frankie, did you make adult versions of your son’s soccer team kit?

Does it make me lame if I say yes?

No, it makes me want to ask you if you can grab me fifteen minutes earlier so my mouth can show you how not-lame that is.

You'll be pleased to know I've sent the email and I am no longer working with 'prickly-puta', as you so lovingly called him.

I'm really proud of you. You okay?

I'd be better if I could celebrate with you, but I can wait.

How would you want to celebrate?

You sure you want to know?

Always, baby.

Well, I was thinking about showing you my power tools.

Maybe even using them? Letting you see what I do with them. It's very different from what you do with yours.

You there, I can see the typing bubble keep popping up.

Give me ten and I can video chat.

Oh no, you don't get an advanced preview. Might let you listen though.

Fuck me.

That's what I'd be saying if you were here right now.

You don't mind that painting ruined the beach because the rain is unrelenting.

The grey of the day filters through the bare windows, spreading itself as far as it can as Frankie prepares the second room of the three the two of you were set to do.

You don’t mind the sound of rain; you never have. You find it peaceful how it cascades down from the drains and runs in marathons down the glass. Right now, the sound trickles in through the open window, while the room is suffused with the scent of fresh paint from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of the third pot of coffee Frankie’s been brewing.

Even if he doesn't admit it, you swear he's only making as many so he can take a moment to kiss you. To run his hands over your waist and slide them over your romper-covered ass—

“Have I told you how good your ass looks in this?”

Sipping your coffee, tasting each note of it, you reply, “Twice, actually.”

“Not enough then.”

Between acting like teenagers in a stranger’s home (including him leaving a large handprint firmly on your denim-covered ass), the paint goes on in thick strokes. You cut in, trying to match the rhythm of the song playing out on the radio—a game only you are playing to distract yourself—because the sight of Frankie using the roller is ruining you.

Unable to stop staring at the way his arms flex with each motion; how his shirt stretches out across his back to the point you're not sure how the threads haven't ripped.

“Want to see the colour for this room?”

It’s a serene shade of yellow, reminiscent of a summer’s day. It'll brighten the room, glide nicely over the old, smothering secrets and old stories, offering something new. Fitting, you think from the drive over when Frankie told you the situation.

“It's perfect.”

“Isn't it?”

Arm around his waist, fingers stroking up and down his side. “Did you pick it, Morales?”

Shyness breaks out then, smile lopsided, eyes averting before whispering, “Maybe.”

You made a note to tell him later what an eye for colour he has.

Dipping the tip of the brush in the paint tray, you swipe it against the corner where two walls meet, finding his eyes on you again.

“Stop marvelling at my paintwork and focus on your own, Morales.”

“S’not your paint skills I’m staring at.”

Smirking, you look over your shoulder at him, nose scrunching. “Who knew watching me paint was your kink.”

You like the sound of his laugh mingling with the yellow on the walls. It makes you smile wider, a thing you find yourself doing each time you refill your paint tray as torture him with your terrible singing.

The only other noise is the rain, the clink of a paint can and the rustle of plastic drop cloths as the transformation happens before your very eyes. It’s not even dried, and it already looks far better than the cigarette-stained walls and palm-covered handprints you hadn’t wanted to guess why they were there, yet had done all the same.

“Maybe he’s measuring how tall he is with his hands.”

Frankie snorts. “What if he wipes his dirty hands on the wall? Finishes his food, wipes. Gets something on his finger, wipes. Has a sticky hand—well.”

You’re about to tell him not to finish that thought, when the radio plays the beginning notes of something that steals your attention.

It hooks in the corner of your lips and drags it up your cheeks as the familiar melody of an old favourite drifts from the speakers, wrapping the space in a cosy embrace—both taking you back and rooting you here in a new memory.

You try not to, but you can’t help the movement in your hips. The way you begin whispering—hushed voice mingling with the music, filling the room with a gentle, attempted harmony as your pitch gets higher, and higher.

Then, you're swaying to the rhythm, lost in it, catching a glimpse of Frankie out of the corner of your eye as he leans against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

There's something in his eyes, you can see it. A tender look, one that makes your heart skip a beat.

But you close your eyes, and let the music carry you away, your voice rising and falling with the lyrics as they spill from your lips effortlessly. Opening your eyes at the bridge, finding him still watching, in awe, gaze unwavering.

And there's a softness there in his expression that you've never seen before, a quiet intensity that takes your breath away. It's as if the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this sunshine-filled room, back-lit by a horrid stormy day.

Yet, it feels perfect.

More so as you begin to sing to him, unable to stop staring as he takes a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers slide under yours, taking the tray and brush from your hands, placing it aside as his smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners, looking at you as if you're the most precious thing in the world.

“What?”

He reaches out, gently brushing his knuckles on your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft and steady.

For a moment, the room seems to stand still.

A flicker of something sparks inside you. Those same words have been so close to your tongue for days now that you almost need to pinch yourself to see if you've really heard them.

But, you know you heard it. The declaration hanging in the air, weighty and profound, making the actual music fade into the background, you swear time itself pauses, allowing the enormity of his words to sink in.

Frankie slides his arm around your waist, still smiling, tugging you closer—a thing your body gives with all but ease. And he repeats it. Those three words.

This time, your heart skips a beat. Emotions swirl within you like a tempestuous sea. One that calms under the stroke of his thumb as your fingers wrapping around his wrist, drawing a soft shape there.

“I love you too, Morales.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, a grin breaking out like the sun on the walls. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

Then you hear it, the velvety, smooth sound of him saying good, as he kisses you to the last notes and chorus of an old, but new favourite song.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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tigressaofkanjis · 5 months

Text

My biggest pet peeve in Transformers media and fanfiction sometimes is that Transformers aren't treated as aliens. They are referred to as aliens, they obviously are aliens, but they never feel like they are aliens because they are always written or seen as having all human mannerisms or features usually. Human posture, human noses, human mannerisms, humanoids...

What about TFA's cat noses or TFP's helm noses? One of the reasons I think those two shows have peak designs is because they have this lack of uncanniness to humans design wise. I'm not looking at a human being as a robot, I'm looking at an alien robot, ones that have claws, ones that have different body types that blend with their vehicle modes, ones with horrific mutilations and designs impossible by human standards. I love seeing that type of stuff in Transformers because to me, it makes them feel alien without completely changing the premises of similarities to where we can't compare their culture or likeness to humans. The films (mostly 1 and 2) showed off this as well.

Another thing I really would like to see in Transformers media is non-human interactive qualities. What do I mean by that? One thing I've noticed is aside from techno-organic species, regular Cybertronians do have a few qualities found in animals. Engine humming I believe was once used as a form of purring in the films and in some of the cartoons. Humans can't purr; cats can, and that small detail is always interesting to come across because it's like "wow, they have this feature that shows off a trait found in Cybertronians. That is so cool." You have them with multiple voice boxes for mechanical, natural, and human-like tones which is also an animal trait. Bumblebee is self-explanatory in most universes being able to still make sounds yet not talk. They have sensors across their body that don't act like the basic human receptors. Most animals can do more than just feel through certain points of their bodies. They can taste, smell, or even hear a hundred times better than a human being throughout various body parts, and Transformers have been hinted to have this ability too, especially through their servos. It's stuff like this that expands upon their existence as aliens.

They have extreme durability, their body morphs to extremes and can also double as a moving weapon (most obvious of course), some of them can make ungodly roars and creature-like noises to warn or show their threatening demeanor (Megatron's dinosaur-like growling), some can have two rows of teeth (a flat base in front and fangs hidden behind), and some of them have mimicking animal-like features (Starscream's bird-shaped feet with visible expansion the same as organic foot padding with similar distributive weight physics in a few universes) despite having no beast mode. There's probably more I can't think of on the top of my head in canon, but all those things are not heavily used as they should be to make them feel alien. They can still hold some relation to the humans they interact with, but I think a lot of Transformers are more than just metal "humans", you know?

Depending on the universe in fanfiction and who you encounter who writes it or not, you have several things that are always cool to see. They have to sparkbond (merging of hearts) above everything else to create a sparkling's life force with interface as just the extra for physical coding features. I've seen people use the non-canon heat cycles which are, of course, our fandom way of making a type of breeding euphemism akin to an animal's cycle. You have the common phrasing of nuzzling, heightened senses, armor and certain parts of the helm acting like fur or ears where it raises and flattens per their mood, and some Transformers have limb dissonance where if necessary, they can convert between bipedal and quadrupedal stances (best example is Bulkhead and Lugnut from TFA who have long arms but short legs and they have the bulky structure where they could possibly run like an animal briefly and the physics of it would work).

So, you have all these different things a common Cybertron most likely would be able to do or have but a human couldn't, and it's never utilized to their full potential. I would like to see people address the nature of Cybertronians as alien and not be afraid to make them alien. I think that's the biggest flaw in our franchise is that everyone is scared of making the Transformers not the humanoid "norm" and getting ridiculed for it. Like, they're aliens, you can make them act however animal-like or completely batshit insane as you want them. You can give them powers, animal-based senses, and behaviors hidden among a human thought process. And technically, you wouldn't be wrong to what they could be as a living creature in the universe by doing so. They aren't humans; they look humanoid, but they aren't us. Why should they have to be in every regard?

Thank you for reading my TED Talk.

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers animated #bayverse #knightverse #transformers g1 #transformers robots in disguise #transformers idw #megatron #bumblebee #tfa #tfp #bulkhead #lugnut #tigressa talks #personal #ranting #fanfiction

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mrsnancywheeler · 5 months

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the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared.

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it.

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact.

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm.

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #thg #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #wanda 💋#finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #thg fic #thg x y/n #thg x reader #thg fanfiction

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shogunish · 6 months

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𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟮]

synopsis. satoru knows you're the closest thing to a mother megumi will ever have.

contents. reader battles with a kitchen stove (it was funnier in my head), a lil' bit of megs/reader bonding, soft and tired toru

words. 1.1k

note. pls lmk what you think bc i feel like my writing has gone 📉📉📉 but anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, THE APPLE OF MY EYE, MY GLORIOUS BLUE EYED KING 💕

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

previous || next

as promised, you're watching over megumi for the day. he's a quiet and somewhat shy kid who doesn't talk too much, but you're certain the little guy will warm up to you once he sees you around more often. you can't blame him; after all, you're basically a stranger in his home who's suddenly spending time with him until he passes out and satoru comes back home from work. you'd be a little reserved as well if you were in his shoes.

“so megumi, what would you like for dinner?” you kneel down to megumi's height and flash him a kind smile, head tilted to the side and hair framing your face.

megumi regards you for a moment as if he doesn't really want to say what he wants, but the smile on your face, the warmth you exude is enough for him to speak up. if he already gets to choose, he better make it count. “..macaroni.” he says, a pout on his lips.

“macaroni it is, buddy.” ruffling megumi's hair, you're quick to move through the kitchen, finding the noodles, preparing two pots and filling one of them with the right amount of water. everything goes as planned until you're faced with that fancy kitchen stove that does absolutely not work like the one you own.

damn satoru and the salary he uses to buy expensive shit like this.

you know it's a touchscreen model, but whenever you do put your finger down and the thing beeps..nothing happens. the stovetop doesn't even turn red to indicate that it's on and so you put your finger down a couple more times only for nothing to happen.

a lump sits in the back of your throat, cold sweat coats the tip of your finger. your heart skips a beat. if you can't even figure out how to operate your newfound nemesis of a stove, megumi would go to bed hungry and satoru would definitely be severely disappointed in you!

you can't let the attractive single dad think you're useless.

you cannot let megumi starve.

stuck in your own panic, you fail to notice how megumi has watched your..conflict by peeking over the countertop. even his dogs give you a somewhat confused look as if they could sense your emotional distress over a stove of all things. the boy walks over, nudges himself between you and your self-proclaimed nemesis and brings his finger down on the touchscreen of the stove like he's never done anything else in his life.

beep. beep, beep.

apparently, it's that easy to get the water to cook.

dumbfounded, you stare at megumi, then at the stove and back at megumi. you have to look hilarious with your lips parted into an o-shape and your eyebrows almost shooting up to your hairline if megumi's little laugh is anything to go by. “..that's amazing..how did you–”

megumi shrugs his shoulders, his usual deadpan expression back on his face. “i always watch dad when he cooks. it's not..that hard.”

you groan out loud, but a little chuckle laces into the sound. “..i'm too old for this stuff.” with pouted lips, you let megumi explain how to increase and decrease the heat, how to turn the stove off and on. it really is a lot easier than you initially believed.

when satoru finally comes home, the skies are already darkening. hues of dark blue and a hint of purple are slathered across the vast canvas, birds roaming through the air and seemingly returning home to their nests or whatever place they consider home for the night. for a moment, the bustling life of the city ceases to exist – at least until satoru would have to leave for work again.

no emails, no phone calls, no meetings.

clad in suit and tie, buttons opened and tie loosened, a sigh of relief sneaks past his pale lips when the warmth of his apartment welcomes him home. a place which was usually silent, almost void of any life since megumi would be in bed by now. but now, the scent of food lingers in the air, soft snores echo from the living room down the hallway and the tv dimly illuminates the cozy space. driven by curiosity and a grumbling stomach, satoru finds a plate of macaroni on the dining table. in front of it, a note is placed.

“i figured you might be hungry after work. all you have to do is warm it up :]”

cerulean eyes soften behind pitch black shades as they skim over the carefully written note and the silly smiley you drew at the end. you didn't have to do this. satoru could take care of himself, he's been doing it for as long as he can remember, but..in a way, it's nice to be thought of, cared for, even in such small ways you probably didn't put much thought into.

he likes it. likely, a lot more than he should.

satoru trudges over to the sofa in the living room, wanting to thank you for the food, but when he sees you passed out on the cushion, megumi cuddled up to your chest and the two dogs snoring at your feet, the ghost of a smile dances on his lips. you look absolutely exhausted, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of your lips and red crayon smeared on your cheek, but it kind of looks cute on you, satoru thinks.

the sound of disney's bambi on the tv is nothing but white noise as satoru's gaze shifts towards his son, his little bundle of joy. the boy who never had a mother appears so content with his little arms clutching his favorite plushie and his little face buried in the warmth of your chest, snoring just as loudly as the dogs. the kid is beat, just like you.

satoru has to shake his head. ever since megumi was born, satoru wanted nothing more than for him to experience the love of a mother. someone who would offer him unconditional love, attention, would care for him and his happiness in ways that only a mother can, but you are not his mother. you never will be.

in the end, you're still the cute neighbor next door who offered to lend him a hand out of pity and not someone who could act as megumi's mother.

and yet, satoru knows he made the right choice by accepting your help.

this is the closest thing megumi will ever have to a mother.

a sigh, heavy enough to be conflicted but quiet enough to drown into the late hours, slips past satoru's lips. with quiet steps, he fetches a blanket from his bedroom and tosses the soft fabric over megumi's and your sleeping form.

"thank you." he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper.

taglist. @torusmochi, @ayanominitrash, @erigaur

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #fic. the gojos & i

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ohmyamor · 1 year

Text

oh my ***

Pairing: ateez (ot8) x reader

Summary: Everyone supposedly has a guardian angel, one that’s tasked to always keep their human out of trouble and on the right path of life. But you don’t just have one, you have...eight?!

w.c. 10.2k

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experiences, threatening someone wooyoung with a bat, cursing, comfort, reincarnation, i think that’s it?

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself a lucky person.

You also wouldn’t really consider yourself an unlucky person either.

You just kind of exist, with the occasional good and not-so-good things happening to you.

Like when you somehow managed to score you and your friends front row seats to see your favorite group in concert. Or the time that you somehow managed to break your ankle and your phone all in the same day.

So, yeah, you wouldn’t say you’re the luckiest person in the world, but you’re also not the unluckiest person, so you’re pretty fine with continuing your life as is.

Today, however, has been going oddly perfect.

You woke up for the first time in forever feeling incredibly well-rested, which has not happened since before you hit puberty. The weather was perfect, maybe a little too perfect, but you didn’t care. You could finally open your windows completely to let in the cool breeze from outside, listening as the birds sang outside of your apartment.

Checking your phone, you also noticed that your paycheck came in a whole day early. Opening your bank account, you stared wide-eyed at the number that was deposited. It was certainly a much larger amount than your last paycheck.

Feeling absolutely ecstatic over how well the morning was going, you decided to make a trip to your favorite coffee shop and treat yourself to some breakfast.

Connecting your phone to your speaker, you selected your favorite playlist and allowed the music to flow through the apartment. Picking out some cute clothes, you began to get ready. As you finished washing your face, you also noticed that your skin seemed to be really nice today, with hardly any redness seeping through and the dark circles under you eyes had seemed to disappear over night.

Smiling brightly at yourself in the mirror, you finished applying your skincare before moving to get dressed and apply some light makeup. Once you finished, you couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror.

I look so cute today.

Giving yourself a wink, you let out a small laugh at your own antics before grabbing your purse from where it hung on the wall and stepping outside. Making sure the door was locked, you began the short walk to your favorite cafe.

You couldn’t help but admire how nice the sun felt on your skin. For the past few weeks, the weather had been anything but nice, and it almost felt like the weather had been reflecting your mood. With the project you had been assigned at work, you had been feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out that you often contemplated just quitting in order to get rid of the stress.

But thankfully, the project was finally done, you had received great feedback from your boss, and it finally seemed as though your little slump was beginning to improve.

Making your way inside the cafe, you walked up to the counter and ordered your usual drink as well as a small pastry.

A little treat for myself.

Sitting down at a table that had the best view of the street, you made yourself comfortable with your drink as you waited for your pastry. Though, you were pleasantly surprised when the man who took your order came out with two pastries instead of one.

“Um, I think you might’ve given me the wrong pastry,” you frowned slightly. “I only ordered this one,” you pointed at the pastry that you know for sure you had ordered.

“Oh!” the man smiled brightly. “No, don’t worry, it’s on the house!”

Before you could even respond, the man gently placed both pastries on your table, sending you a small wink and making his way back behind the counter.

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly at the man’s actions.

Damn, today really is a great day you thought, bringing the pastry up to your mouth and taking a bite out of it.

Holy shit this is so good too you hummed appreciatively.

After thoroughly enjoying your breakfast, you bid goodbye to the barista before making your way out of the store.

Hmmmm, what should I do now?

Glancing around, you remembered that one of your favorite bookstores was about a block away, and quickly made up your mind to go there.

Walking to the nearest stoplight, you pushed the button on the pole and waited patiently for the light to turn green. Fishing out your phone from your bag, you scrolled aimlessly through social media and responding to some texts your friends had sent. Glancing up, you noticed the light was now green.

Placing your phone in your pocket, you began to cross the street.

You were almost at the other side of the crosswalk when a loud screeching noise caused you to whip your head to the side. There was a car moving down the street in your direction incredibly fast, and you watched as people on the sidewalks jumped out of the way as the car swerved from side to side and hit things on the street.

Your heart raced you watched the car come barreling towards you. It felt like your feet were stuck to the ground and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move.

Right as the car came feet away from hitting you, you shut your eyes, bracing for the impact of the car hitting your body.

You barely registered the feeling of someone grabbing your hand and yanking you forward.

Landing roughly on your hands and knees on the sidewalk, you stared at the cement in front of you as the sound of the car slowly disappeared in the distance. There were people running up to you from both sides of the street, some yelling while others gently crouched next to you and asked if you were okay.

The strangers helped turn you around and you sat on the sidewalk unable to calm your racing heart.

“Th-thank you,” you breathed out, looking at the woman who was closest to you.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you concerned.

“For what?”

You swallowed.

“For grabbing me and pulling me forward. I couldn’t move and I though for sure the car was going to hit me,” you explained.

It was your turn to look confused when she opened her mouth.

“Honey, there was no one around you. I certainly wasn’t going to reach you on time and neither was anyone else.”

After the lady explained to you that the other pedestrians on the street had just barely reached you after you were already on the sidewalk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you.

The strangers who had come up to check on you were incredibly nice, and after convincing them to not call an ambulance and that you could stand on your own, the crowd slowly dispersed.

The woman who had helped you insisted on calling a cab for you, even though you reassured her that you didn’t live far and you could make it home safely. She was adamant, saying that she wouldn’t let you walk home alone after what just happened and said it would weigh heavy on her conscious if she did.

Eventually, you relented, and waited with her patiently as she called a taxi.

When the cab eventually pulled up, she gave you a hug and said that she was happy you were okay and to get home safely.

Waving goodbye through the window, you watched as her figure slowly grew smaller.

Leaning back against the leather seats, you finally allowed yourself to process what had just happened.

Your day had been going so well and that car had quite literally come out of nowhere. Even though the lady who helped you said there was no one near you, you were 100% positive you had felt someone grab your hands and pull you forward onto the sidewalk.

Your mind wandered to your parents and the stories they had told you when you were younger of guardian angels.

“Guardian angels? What’s that?” seven-year-old you has asked your mom.

She smiled, softly running her hand through your hair from where she sat on the edge of your bed.

“They’re people who are assigned to watch over you and always protect you. They help you when you’re in trouble and make sure you always make good decisions.”

Younger you wrinkled her nose.

“They’re always watching me? That sounds creepy.”

Your mom laughed, tossing her head back.

After what you had experienced today, maybe the stories your mom used to tell you weren’t that crazy.

As the cab you were in slowly came to a stop in front of your building, you thanked the driver and rummaged through your bag looking for some cash to tip him.

He waved his hand at you, telling you the lady who had flagged him down already paid and there was no need to tip.

“I’m just glad I could get you home safely.”

“Oh,” you blinked, kind of surprised he was saying no to being tipped. “Well, thank you, sir.” You said honestly. “I hope you have a great rest of your day,” you said, stepping out of the car.

The driver bid you farewell and drove away from your building as soon as you walked through the front gates.

Sighing heavily, you made your way to the elevator in the building and walked into the old machine, watching as the doors closed and the numbers for the floors slowly climbed up.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait to into your bed and knock out. Way too much has happened today that was out of your comfort zone, to say the least.

Eventually, you reached your front door and reached into your bag to fish out your keys.

Searching inside your bag with your hand, your eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t feel the familiar metal of your keys.

I know I brought them with me, so where are they?

Taking your bag off your shoulder, you opened it up and began pulling out everything you had in there. You could feel the pit in your stomach get heavier with every item that was removed and no keys were found.

You eventually emptied out your entire bag and still, you were unable to find your keys. Leaning your back against your door, you slowly allowed yourself to sink to the ground.

They must’ve fallen out when I fell, you though bitterly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat.

This was the last thing you needed today.

You’re unsure how long you sat outside your apartment door, wallowing in your own misery.

The sound of footsteps brought you of your thoughts.

Glancing up, you noticed a tall man with short pink hair come to a stop in front of you.

“Is everything okay miss?”

Holy shit he has a deep voice

You sighed loudly.

“Not really,” you admit. “I lost my keys at some point when I was out today and my friend who has my spare is out of town for the week.”

You’re not really sure what compelled you to tell all this to the strange man who you’ve never even seen in your apartment, but something about him gives off a very peaceful aura.

You feel like you could tell him anything.

The man furrows his eyebrows and a soft pout forms on his face.

“Aw, I’m really sorry,” he sympathized.

You shrugged, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

He glanced around nervously. Why? You’re not quite sure.

“I’m, uh, actually one of the maintenance people and we’re here doing some routine check-ups,” he started.

Check-ups? The building manager didn’t notify me of anything going on this week.

“If you want,” the man continues. “I can go back down to the leasing office and grab the master key to unlock your door for you?”

You hesitate.

On one hand, this man is literally offering to go out of his way to help you out and unlock your door for you.

On the other hand, you have absolutely no way of proving he’s actually who he says he is. He could be a serial killer for all you know and you’ve basically just given him access to unlock your apartment and kill you in your sleep.

Giving him a once over, you notice the bluish jumpsuit he’s wearing and the work boots he has on. Quite frankly, he does look like he’s been doing some manual labor, so maybe he’s telling the truth.

“Okay,” you finally reply, albeit hesitantly.

Honestly, if he does turn out to be a serial killer and comes back to murder you in your sleep, you’ll make sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Great!” he smiles widely, his eyes turning into the cutest crescent moons you’ve ever seen.

At least he’ll be a cute serial killer, you think.

“Oh!” he says, as though he just remembered something. “Also, my name’s Mingi! It’s really nice to meet you!” the man, Mingi, reaches his hand out.

Pushing yourself off the floor, you quickly dust yourself off before reaching out as well to shake his hand.

“I’m (Y/n),” you introduce yourself.

Mingi hums.

“That’s a really pretty name.”

You can feel your cheeks get warm.

“O-oh, thank you.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Mingi speaks again.

“Okay, well I’m gonna go downstairs to get the masterkey really quick. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!” he jokes, beginning to walk back down the hallway.

“I’ll try,” you laugh nervously, thinking about the day you’ve had.

If anything else goes wrong today, you don’t think you’ll have the willpower to keep living.

You’re only waiting for a few minutes before you can spot Mingi coming back down the hall.

Damn he’s quick.

“Got it!” Mingi says cheerfully, waving a small key in the air.

You smile back, feeling relieved that you can finally get inside your apartment.

He stops in front of your door, pushing the key inside the lock and wriggling it around a few times before you can hear the familiar click of the lock. Letting out a small “aha”, Mingi twists the doorknob and sure enough, the door to your apartment opens.

You might actually cry tears of happiness.

“Ma’am,” Mingi says in a fake posh accent, gesturing with his hand for you to go inside.

You let out a small laugh and walk inside. Mingi remains outside of your door.

“Well, thank you so much Mingi,” you say earnestly. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up at the right time. My knight in shining armor,” you joke.

Mingi blushes furiously, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head and looking off to the side.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’m just glad everything worked out.”

You nod, unsure of what to say next.

Mingi’s head suddenly snaps to the side, looking at something down the hallway, almost as if he heard something. You frown. You didn’t hear anything.

“Well, it looks like I have to get going,” he begins.

You nod.

“Better get back before the big boss gets mad at you for slacking off, huh?”

You say it as a joke, but Mingi only lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Um,” you’re not quite sure what to say. “Okay, well thanks again Mingi, I really do appreciate it.” You slowly begin to shut the door.

“Anytime,” he sends you a small wave and bright smile, turning to walk down the hallway as you finally shut the door.

You don’t spend too much time thinking about Mingi’s strange behavior at the end, chalking it up to him having a really strict boss. Plus, you honestly can’t wait to change into your pajamas and knock out.

Dropping your purse on your couch, you make your way to your room and quickly change into your pj’s before flinging yourself onto your bed.

You hug the stuffed bear on your bed closely, feeling the tension and stress from your body slowly begin to fade away as your body succumbs to sleep.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up.

The lack of light coming in from outside lets you know that it’s dark, leaving you to assume it’s either really late or really early.

You roll back over, fully intending on returning to dreamland when the sound of hushed arguing catches your attention.

You groan, assuming it’s your neighbors who are always going at it. Seriously, if they argue this much, they should just break up. Arguing that much can’t be healthy for anyone.

You’ve just grabbed onto your pillow, intending on using it to block out the voices, when you suddenly realize that it’s only male voices you can hear. Sitting up, you strain your ears to try and catch more of what they’re saying.

You feel yourself freeze when you realize that the voices are coming from your living room.

You sit frozen on your bed for a few minutes, unsure of what to do.

Did these people break into your apartment? What are they doing here? What are they going to do to you?

Reaching out blindly, you attempt to locate your phone, hoping you can at least call the police before the robbers can reach you. Pressing the power button, your heart drops when it doesn’t turn on. In your excitement to knock out, you never put it to charge and now it’s dead.

Taking a deep breath, you try to think of a course of action.

Slowly getting out of bed, you reach under the bed to grab the metal bat that you keep in case of emergencies. Maybe, if the robbers don’t have any weapons, you can either scare them off or hurt them enough to grab the home phone sitting on your kitchen counter and call the police.

You cautiously make your way to the door of your bedroom, letting out a shaky breath before slowly twisting the doorknob. You gently push the door open, thanking whatever gods are out there that it doesn’t make any noise.

Now that the door is open, you can hear the voices more clearly.

“Why would you show yourself to her?”

“What did you want me to do? She was having the worst day, I wasn’t gonna sit back and watch her suffer.” The voice sounds oddly familiar.

Someone else hums.

“Don’t even say anything,” the original voice whispers angrily. “You should have never interfered earlier.”

“She was about to get hit by a car, hyung! What did you want me to do, let it happen? Then we would be back to square one all over again.”

It’s a different voice this time, slightly higher in pitch.

They’re talking about what happened to you earlier.

Who the fuck are these people?

You arrive at the corner of the hallway, gripping your bat impossibly tight and peeking around the corner.

From what you can see, there’s a few men standing in your living room. One with dark blue hair sits on your couch facing the kitchen, another stands with his back to the hallway where you stand, and there seems to be someone standing in front of him.

You can’t help but let out a small gasp when you realize the man standing with his back facing you has short pink hair.

Mingi.

All three men whip their heads around.

They stare at you wide-eyed, including Mingi.

You come out from behind the corner and point your bat at the men.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. “And why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

Your eyes dart around, trying to keep an eye on every person in the room. Your heart pounds in your chest and your hands are sweaty, but you’ll be damned if you go out without a fight.

Mingi takes a step forward, his hands raised slightly.

“(Y/n),” he starts.

He stops when you take a step backward.

“Mingi, if that’s even your goddam name,” you spit. You miss the way all three men flinch slightly. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

“Was helping me earlier just a plot to figure out where I live? Are you gonna kill me?” you question.

A crestfallen look falls on Mingi’s face. A small part of you almost wants to feel bad. Almost.

“No, not at all,” he defends. “Look, it’s kind of complicated, but I can explain. I just need you to put the bat down.” His eyes dart to the metal bat you have a death grip on.

You let out a harsh laugh.

“No fucking way. I don’t care who the hell you are, I need you and your friends to get out right now before I call the cops.” You demand.

“The cops aren’t going to help you sweetheart,” a voice comes from behind you.

You let out a scream, turning around and blindly swinging your bat. It hits something hard.

“OW!”

A man with long hair that’s black and silver hunches over in front of you, clutching his stomach. You stare wide-eyed.

There’s more of them.

And where the fuck are they coming from?

“(Y/n),” someone else says your name. You whip back around, moving backward towards the wall and making sure the men don’t leave your sight. You keep the bat pointed at them.

The man with dark blue hair siting on the couch is standing now, and he looks at you with wide eyes as well.

“Please, just put the bat down and we can explain everything to you.”

You shake your head vehemently.

“You guys broke into my fucking apartment and you want me to calm down?” You laugh incredulously. “Are you guys fucking insane?”

You miss the way the shorter male standing next to Mingi has disappeared.

Mingi frowns, looking genuinely saddened.

“I’m really sorry we have to do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows, now genuinely concerned he’s going to murder you.

“What are you-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when you feel fingers touch your temple and you black out.

“What did you do?”

“What we had to! She already managed to hit Wooyoung and she was obviously freaking out so we had to calm her down!”

Someone snickers.

“Shut up Yeosang.”

“C’mon, you’re telling me it’s a bat that took you out?”

“She has a good swing! You should try getting a metal bat swung directly at your stomach and see how you feel.”

You let out a soft groan at the voices that surround you. They’re too loud.

You’re laying on something soft and it feels familiar as well.

Am I dead?

“You’re not dead.”

Your eyes shoot open.

Sitting up, you groan at the light that shines harshly into your room and shut your eyes. Opening them softly, you glance around. You’re definitely in your room, which is a relief.

But the eight bodies that surround you bring anything but relief.

You tense up, your hands gripping at the sheets.

You can feel tears beginning to blur your vision and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper.

Someone lets out a sad noise.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” a deep voice comes from your right side.

You look over to see who said that. Familiar brown eyes stare deeply into your own, and the soft pink hair instantly allows you to recognize who just spoke.

“How can I trust you Mingi?”

A heartbroken expression falls over his face and he looks unsure of what to say.

“He’s right sweetheart,” another voice speaks up. “We’re not going to hurt you.” This time it’s another tall man who speaks. He has peach colored hair. His eyes bore into yours, and you feel slightly unnerved at the raw honesty that comes across.

You don’t say anything, opting to take a glance at all the men who are spread across your room.

A shorter man who stands closest to your bed sighs and takes a step forward.

“This isn’t how we wanted to meet, so please accept our deepest apologies for scaring you,” the man begins.

“We’re your guardian angels.”

The man, Hongjoong, had explained to you that they were in fact your guardian angels.

Typically, humans only had one guardian angel, he had explained, but you were assigned eight.

Guardian angels were also never, under any circumstances, to reveal themselves to their humans, but some people, Hongjoong glared at the man sitting at your desk with dark blue hair as well as Mingi, had broken these rules.

Which is why you were currently able to see all of them.

“How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?” You questioned. This entire situation was absolutely insane and you could barely wrap your head around any of the information that was just given to you.

“Well, we’ve been watching over you your whole life,” the blue haired male spoke up. “Ask us anything that no one else knows and we can answer it.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about different things throughout your life that no one knew about you.

“When I was in middle school and I asked out that boy a year ahead of me, what did he say?”

There’s no way they could know the answer to this. This is literally something I’ve never told anyone and I intend on taking it with me to my grave.

“He said no because you reminded him of his mom and that grossed him out.”

You stare wide-eyed at the man with medium length blonde hair that sat in the middle of your floor.

What the fuck?

“Don’t worry, you honestly dodged a bullet with that one,” another male with cherry red hair shook his head. “You know that guy ended up marrying his first cousin?” The man snorted.

You had no words.

You had never told anyone that secret because it embarrassed you so much, but clearly, the men in front of you knew it.

Maybe they’re telling the truth.

“Of course we’re telling the truth, we’re angels.”

The man with two-toned hair speaks up.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Did you just read my thoughts?”

He shrugs.

“They’re very loud.”

You stare at him.

“Do you want me to hit you with my bat again?”

The man shudders.

“Please, don’t.”

Another voice speaks up.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” the man with peach hair pipes in.

You shrug.

“I don’t really have any reason to doubt you, I guess.” You hesitate before saying your next words. “Plus, I don’t know what it is, but you guys have this vibe,” you gesture your hand vaguely.

“It feels...safe?” You shrug, looking down at the spare thread you’ve been messing with since you woke up. “I felt it when I met Mingi earlier, but I didn’t know what to think about it.”

You miss the way Mingi’s ears turn red.

An awkward silence falls across the room.

“Well,” another man, the one who stands next to Hongjoong, begins to speak. “Now that that’s done, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Seonghwa,” he sends you a beautiful smile.

“I’m Hongjoong, as you already know,” Hongjoong says and you nod.

“My name’s Yunho,” the man with peach hair speaks up.

“I’m San,” the man with dark blue hair pipes up, sending you a bright, dimpled smile. You can’t help but send him a small smile back.

“I’m Yeosang,” the blonde one on your floor gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m Wooyoung!” Two-toned hair chirps loudly. You can’t help but side-eye him slightly. “What?” he cries.

“Please don’t sneak up on me if you don’t want me to hit you again,” you warn.

A few snickers sound throughout the room.

“I’m Jongho,” the one with cherry hair tells you.

Your eyes land on the last man who sits closest to you.

“I’m Mingi,” he says. “But, you already know that.”

You nod. He still seems a little bit sad.

You hesitate, but reach out to softly grab his hand that rests on your bed.

“Thank you for your help earlier,” you start. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.”

You glance around the room.

“But, you guys have to understand that this whole situation is kind of crazy.”

Seonghwa nods.

“We understand, and we’re sorry for scaring you so much.” He nods his head toward Mingi and San. “But those two broke one of the most important rules that guardian angels must follow.”

You nod, understanding what Seonghwa’s saying.

“Wait,” your eyebrows furrow. “I know Mingi broke the rule when he helped me get back inside my apartment, but what did San do?”

You look at him as he crosses his arms and pouts, reminding you of a scolded child.

“He’s the one that pulled you out of the street yesterday before the car could hit you,” Wooyoung explains.

Your eyes widen and you sit up even further.

“So I was right!” you exclaim.

Mingi raises a brow.

“I knew I felt someone grab my hands and pull me forward, but the lady who helped me said there was no one there!” You pout slightly. “I thought I was going crazy for a second.”

You look over at San.

“Thank you for saving my life,” you tell him sincerely.

San throws his hands up in the air.

“See? At least she’s grateful for what I did!”

Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“Of course she is, you idiot, she would’ve been dead if you hadn’t.”

This time, you don’t miss the way they all seem to wince at Yeosang’s words.

You frown.

“Yeah, actually,” you begin. “If you guys are my guardian angels, how come I almost died yesterday?” You look at them expectantly. “Isn’t the whole point of you guys being here to like, keep me alive?”

They avoid your eyes.

“We were a little...preoccupied,” Hongjoong admits.

You click your tongue.

“Well, at least San was there for me.”

You send a grateful smile to him, which he returns with slightly red cheeks.

“Hey!” Mingi whines. “I helped you too!”

You roll your eyes.

“Yes you did, you big baby, but San literally saved my life,” you emphasize.

“And I didn’t?” Mingi asks, offended. “What if I never showed up? You would’ve had to sleep on the streets and who knows what would’ve happened then?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing yourself back on your bed.

“I didn’t know angels were this dramatic!”

Jongho lets out a laugh.

“The most,” he admits.

The sound of your stomach rumbling has a warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“You haven’t eaten?” Yunho furrows his eyebrows.

“Mmmm, not since breakfast yesterday, I think,” you admit.

Wooyoung jumps out of his chair.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had,” he sends you a small wink before heading out of your room towards the kitchen.

“He’s not going to burn my apartment down right?” You ask worriedly.

Hongjoong shakes his head.

“No, Wooyoung’s actually a really good cook,” he reassures you.

“Plus,” San says. “You have seven angels here to protect you if anything!”

You’re not sure if that makes you feel any better.

As it turns out, Hongjoong was right, and Wooyoung is an excellent cook. In a span of 20 minutes, he’s managed to make you an omelet that looks like it came straight out of a Studio Ghibli movie, along with some oatmeal, fresh fruit, and what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Wow,” you gape at the food.

Wooyoung motions for you to sit at the table.

“It was meant for you to eat, not just stare at.”

You happily oblige, sitting down at the table and bringing up the fork to your mouth, only to pause when you realize no one else has food.

“We don’t have to eat,” Seonghwa explains, reading your mind. “We can if we want to, but it’s not necessary for us to survive.”

You nod, feeling a little less guilty about eating in front of them.

Letting out a satisfied hum at the taste of the food, you send Wooyoung a thumbs-up. He smiles brightly.

“So,” you start, swallowing your food and taking a quick sip of your juice. “Now that I’ve met you guys and I know you exist, are you going to go back to being invisible to me?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look.

“Not exactly,” Hongjoong says.

You raise an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“Now that you know we exist, we can’t exactly just disappear,” he elaborates. “It’s one of the reasons guardian angels aren’t meant to reveal themselves to their humans.”

You nod slowly.

“So, humans just never find out they have a guardian angel? Like, ever?”

Jongho mutters something under his breath. Yunho kicks his leg under the table.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask, looking at him.

He avoids your gaze.

A tense silence falls over the table.

You notice how Mingi shakes his leg anxiously. San taps his fingers on the table and Yunho avoids your gaze.

You narrow your eyes at them.

“There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t think now is the best time to talk about this-” Hongjoong starts.

“Humans only find out about their guardian angels when their time is near,” Wooyoung says calmly.

Hongjoong glares at him. Wooyoung only shrugs.

“What? She was bound to find out eventually.”

“Their time?” You look around at the men that sit at your table. “Like, when they’re about to die?”

Yeosang nods.

You let out a small “oh”, looking down at the unfinished food that stares at you.

It’s silent as you think about the information they’ve just given you.

“The car,” you swallow. “The car that almost hit me yesterday. Was it,” you almost can’t get the words out. “Was it supposed to hit me?”

Your question comes out in a whisper.

No one responds, but when you look up, they all fix you with a sad look.

You nod.

“Okay.”

You push your plate away from you.

You don’t have an appetite anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Mingi whispers from your left side.

His large hand gently encompasses yours. You nod, refusing to look him in the eyes.

“But we’re not going to let you die.”

You look up at San’s determined voice, barely able to see him through your misty eyes.

“What?”

“We’re not letting you die,” he says firmly. “It’s not your time.”

You shake your head.

“I’m pretty sure if the universe decides it’s my time, then it’s my time,” you reply. You’re not sure if you’re saying it to convince them, or yourself.

“I can’t just avoid fate.”

Hongjoong sighs.

“San’s right.”

You send him a questioning look.

“We’re your guardian angels. We’re not going to let you die.”

“Screw what the universe says,” Yeosang chimes in.

You stare at them incredulously.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Look,” Yunho starts. “We’ve been thinking about it, and we’re pretty sure the universe is wrong about it being your time. We’ve been around for centuries, usually we have a good sense of when it’s going to be someone’s time and when it’s not.”

“And we don’t get that feeling with you,” Jongho continues for him. “We never have.”

“So, we’re going to do our best to make sure you stay out of harms way,” Yeosang finishes.

Your throat feels constricted and you can barely see through all the tears that have welled up in your eyes.

“You guys would do all that for me?” You choke out.

Mingi squeezes your hand.

“Of course. We’re not your guardian angels for nothing.”

You sniffle, looking down at your lap and bringing up your other hand to wipe at your eyes.

“Thank you guys,” you tell them sincerely.

“Anything for you,” Seonghwa smiles softly.

After the conversation at breakfast, the nine of you come up with a vague plan Wooyoung affectionally dubbed “Keeping Our Human Alive”. Despite the look you had given him, you had to admit, it made you laugh.

You all agreed it would be best for at least one of them to accompany you every day, more if any of them felt like tagging along.

“That way,” Hongjoong explained, “if anything unexpected happens, at least one of us will be able to protect you.”

You agreed.

“What about when I go to work and stuff?” You had questioned. “Won’t it be weird if there’s a different guy following me around every day?”

Yunho shook his head.

“Just because you can see us doesn’t mean everyone else can see us too. We can make ourselves visible to other people besides our assigned human if we want,” he explained.

“Oh, okay. Well, that certainly makes this easier then.”

“What would you prefer for us to do?” Questioned San. “Do you want us to remain invisible all the time or only at work?”

You think it over for a minute before shrugging.

“Honestly, whatever’s most comfortable for all of you. I would prefer if at work you guys are invisible, but while we’re in public and stuff, whatever you guys feel comfortable with is fine by me.”

At your answer, they all give you fond looks which makes your face feel slightly warm. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“Also, I was thinking about it and if you guys are going to be with me 24/7 now, we need some ground rules.”

Jongho chuckled.

“Technically, we’ve always been here, you’ve just barely found out.”

You realize he’s right, and the memories of every single embarrassing thing that you’ve ever done in the privacy of your own home comes rushing back to you.

“Well, yeah, now that I know you guys are here,” you stumble over your words slightly. “Privacy is really big for me. I don’t have many rules, but I just ask that you guys don’t show up unannounced or else that might really freak me out, and please, if you’re going to come into my room, just knock.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And,” you continue, “no more reading my thoughts please.”

Only a few of them nod, which makes you grow slightly concerned.

“Is that a problem?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice.

“Not at all,” Seonghwa reassures.

“It’s just that we do get a little concerned for when you’re alone. Being aware of your thoughts helps us decide if you need our help at that moment or not,” Hongjoong explains.

You nod.

“I get that, but if at least one of you is going to be by my side every single day from now on, I really don’t think there’s any need for you to read my thoughts.”

You continue.

“Plus, it’s really just about privacy for me. I don’t really feel comfortable with you guys having access to every single thought in my head, no matter how big or small.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both nod.

“We understand. And we’ll do our best to respect your boundaries.”

“Thank you guys,” you send them a small smile.

“Plus, if I need any help or anything, I’ll just yell out ‘bat’ really loud,” you joke, referring to the bruise you might’ve left on Wooyoung’s stomach.

Everyone laughs except for him.

“Not funny,” he pouts.

You let out a small giggle, patting him lightly on the arm.

“You did kind of deserve it, my friend.”

Clapping your hands together, you let out a deep exhale.

“Now that that’s all settled, I need to go grocery shopping. All of you are more than welcome to come.”

A few of them look very excited, which both excites you and makes you slightly nervous.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Hongjoong starts. “But Seonghwa and I will have to pass this time.”

You pout slightly.

“Aw man.”

“Trust me,” Seonghwa starts. “We would love to go on our first official errand run with you, little one, but we have some business to deal with upstairs.”

He uses his index finger to point up and you look up as well.

Upstairs?

“Ohhhh, you mean, like, heaven and all that,” you laugh nervously at your lack of understanding.

The two men nod.

“But don’t worry, we should be back by the end of the day,” Hongjoong reassures you.

“Don’t worry guys,” Mingi slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “We’ve got this.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stare at the male by your side, slightly unamused.

“That’s what we’re scared of.”

It’s officially been about a week since your near death experience and finding out about your guardian angels.

While having all of them around had certainly been awkward at first, you’ve all slowly begun to fall into a routine. Sometimes, you feel as though you’ve known them your whole life.

Which, to a certain extent, you kind of have.

Something about having them around just makes you feel incredibly safe and warm inside. Not to mention the slight butterflies you’ve been experiencing around them, but you’re quick to try and cage them as soon as they appear.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa have taken it upon themselves to cook most of the meals for the nine of you. Every day when you come home from work, you can always count on a warm, freshly cooked meal to be waiting on the table for you.

“You’re kind of like my house husbands,” you joked to them one time.

Seonghwa blushed, while Wooyoung had blown you a kiss.

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Yunho and Mingi are the two that typically accompany you to work, although sometimes Jongho will tag along if he doesn’t have anything else to do. Despite the tall men’s playful personalities, they were both incredibly smart and helped you with your work whenever you felt particularly stressed out.

San was certainly one of the more playful angels, you had noticed.

Although all of them were fun to be around, San was always the first to notice when your mood wasn’t the best, and he was the best at comforting you after a long day. A bad day at work usually ended with San waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the door for some cuddles and quiet time.

When Wooyoung and Mingi had found out about this little routine, they both immediately demanded to be allowed into the “cuddle time” as they called it.

Jongho and Yeosang were the two individuals who you enjoyed spending some quiet time with. The three of you would usually wind down together with some tea and some books or a show. Although they were a little more reserved than the others, you still genuinely enjoyed your time with both of them.

But they certainly had their moments where they could be just as chaotic as the others.

Exhibit A was the day you walked into your apartment to see Yeosang and Yunho standing in your kitchen covered in flour.

“What happened?” you had asked, absolutely astounded by the amount of flour that somehow managed to cover every inch of your kitchen. You didn’t even think you had that much flour to begin with.

The two of them sheepishly admitted that they were trying to bake some cookies, but things had gotten out of hand.

Clicking your tongue, you walked over to the roll of paper towels to begin cleaning up.

“What am I going to do with you guys-”

You had just turned around when the feeling of something soft and powdery hit your face. You sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the two angels. Yunho looked at you and then turned to Yeosang, who avoided your eyes.

What followed next was a flour fight that resulted in a very long clean-up shift.

There was also the time you found out Jongho literally had the voice of an angel.

The two of you were headed to your local plant store to look for some new plants to decorate your apartment with when one of your favorite songs came on the radio.

Turning the volume up, you began singing along softly as did Jongho. As the song continued, his voice grew louder, and when the two of you reached a red light, you were unable to do anything except stare at him slack-jawed at the voice that was coming out of him. Only the sound of the car behind you honking was able to shake you out of your stupor.

Now, you guys have little karaoke parties in your car when the two of you are alone.

The only angel you had yet to spend a lot of time with, however, was Hongjoong.

The man always seemed to be busy, as he was hardly ever in your actual apartment. Most mornings when you woke up, he was gone and he wouldn’t show up until the evenings.

You would be lying if you said the hushed arguments he would have with some of the others didn’t concern you. They always occurred at night, when they assumed you were fast asleep. And they always revolved around the same thing.

“She’s not the exact same, and that’s okay, but you guys can’t keep expecting her to be the same as our (Y/n).” You heard Hongjoong say one night.

You had been unable to fall back asleep after that.

Today, though, you really needed to go to the post office, and Hongjoong was the only angel available to accompany you.

You stood awkwardly at the end of your table where Hongjoong sat using your laptop to do something.

“Uh,” you clear your throat. “Hongjoong?”

He looks up a little startled.

“(Y/n),” he acknowledges. “Is everything okay?” He looks at you concerned.

“Yeah everything’s fine!” You reassure him.

“I just need to run a quick errand and the others are all busy so I was wondering if you could go with me,” you trail off.

God this is awkward.

To your surprise, although you really shouldn’t be, he nods his head quickly.

“Yeah of course. We can go now, if you’re ready?”

“Cool, let me just grab my bag and we can get going!” You rush to your room to grab your bag before walking back to the front door where Hongjoong already waits for you.

The two of you agree to make the short walk to the post office, commenting on how the nice weather is today.

Exiting through the front gates of your apartment, you two begin walking down the sidewalk shoulder to shoulder in silence.

“So is-”

“I wanted-”

The two of you start talking at the same time.

You both let out a laugh and you can feel your shoulders relax a bit.

“Go ahead,” you allow Hongjoong to speak first.

He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” he says as he stares into your eyes.

You have to admit, that’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been really distant and pre-occupied lately,” Hongjoong continues. “And I know you’ve noticed, so I want to sincerely apologize. There’s been a lot of stuff I’ve been dealing with and I don’t want you to think I don’t like this,” he gestures between the two of you, “thing we have going on.”

You shake your head.

“No, please don’t feel like you have to apologize Hongjoong. To be completely honest, I have no clue what it is you guys have to deal with in the first place, but I’m really grateful you’ve all gone out of your way to help me.”

You let out a small, sad laugh.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really get why you guys are helping me in the first place. I’m sure you’ve all had hundreds of different assigned humans throughout your existence, so I’m nothing special.”

Hongjoong stops abruptly and turns to face you.

“That’s not true,” he says firmly. The serious expression on his face has you taken aback.

“What?”

“You said you’re nothing special. That’s not true.”

Hongjoong sighs and grabs both of your hands.

“Look, it’s complicated to explain, and I will tell you, but we agreed we all wanted to tell you together. So, if you’re okay with waiting, I can tell you everything that’s been going on as soon as we get back to your apartment.”

You would be lying if you said his words don’t scare you a little bit.

“It’s okay Hongjoong, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you reassure him, softly running your fingers over his knuckles.

He shakes his head.

“I- We all want to tell you, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You nod your head.

“Okay. Back at my apartment it is then,” you send him a small smile, which he returns.

“Before we head to the post office,” you start. “Do you want to visit my favorite cafe with me?”

Hongjoong smiles softly at you.

“I would love to.”

You guys continue walking down the few blocks and after a few minutes, you both stand at the stoplight that sits across from the cafe. You and Hongjoong laugh at the stories you tell him about the antics Yunho and Mingi get up to when you’re at work. The light turns green, and you begin to cross the street.

“I’m telling you, I just told them about this lady in my office who’s always getting on my nerves and they made it their mission to inconvenience her in every way possible!” You exclaim.

Hongjoong lets out a hearty laugh and you smile widely at how relaxed he looks.

Just as your about to continue your story, you notice the wind blowing your letter out of your purse.

Cursing, you tell Hongjoong to wait on the sidewalk while you run quickly after the paper. The letter lands in the middle of crosswalk and you’ve just barely managed to pick it up when the sound of someone yelling your name makes you whip around.

Coming towards you at a terrifying speed is a car.

You stand frozen in the middle of street, unable to move your feet.

You barely manage to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s terrified face when you feel your body get thrown back, and everything turns black.

You stand in a green field.

The scenery is absolutely gorgeous and you can feel the warm sun and cool breeze on your skin.

Looking around, you notice a large, crystal blue lake in the distance. Your legs begin to take you in that direction on their own accord.

You reach the lake and crouch down, slightly dipping your hand in the cool water. Soft ripples make their way across the surface of the water and you can’t help but feel completely at ease in this place.

Whatever this place is.

As you continue staring down into the water, you notice your reflection seems to look different.

The you staring back has much longer hair than you currently have, and the clothes your reflection wears is older, looking like they come from an early Victorian age.

You tilt your head to the side and notice that your reflection’s head doesn’t move.

A voice sounds out through your mind.

“You need to go back.”

“Go back?” You whisper aloud.

Your reflection nods.

“They need you.”

Other you doesn’t specify who you two are talking about, but deep down, you think you already know the answer.

Your reflection sends you a gentle smile before disappearing. You watch as the water returns to its calm state before gently pushing yourself back up to your feet.

You take one last look around the field you’re in, before closing your eyes.

The first thing you notice is how dark it is.

You can hear the sounds of people talking and crying around you, and you can feel hands softly grabbing your body, but you’re unable to open your eyes or move.

“Please,” someone whispers over your body.

“Please don’t leave us again.”

You lose consciousness once again.

The next time you wake up, your entire body hurts.

You let out a soft groan, slowly opening your eyes and allowing them to adjust to the soft light of your lamp.

Something heavy rests near your right hand, and turning your head slightly, you can see a head of familiar pink hear laying down next to you.

Using what little strength you have in your body, you raise your hand and gently rest it on Mingi’s head. Softly, you run your fingers through the short strands on his head.

He makes an inaudible noise and turns his head over so that you can now see his face. As you continue stroking his head, his eyes flutter open. He looks a little bit confused for a few seconds before his body is shooting up and he stares at you shocked.

“(Y/n),” he whispers softly.

“Hi Mingi,” you reply.

You watch as tears well up in his eyes and he throws himself on top of you, mindful to not rest his entire body weight on you. You can hear footsteps rushing towards your room before your bedroom door is being slammed open.

You can barely see over Mingi’s broad back that covers your frame, but you already know who it is.

As Mingi releases you, you attempt to sit up, only to stop and hiss in pain when jolts of pain shoot up your back.

“Be careful, little one,” Seonghwa says, moving forward to help adjust some pillows behind you.

You thank him and take a moment to look around at each of the men that surrounds your bed. You notice the dark circles under their eyes and the way their skin seems to lack it’s normal glow.

“You guys look worse than I feel,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Yeosang frowns.

“You’ve been out for 4 days, sunflower.”

You blink harshly.

“Four days?”

Jongho nods.

“The worst four days of our entire existence,” he says.

You look down at the blanket that rests on your lap.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No I’m sorry.”

It’s Hongjoong who speaks.

He comes to your side, falling onto his knees beside your bed and taking your hand into his. He leans down to rest his forehead against your hand.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he cries.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the car coming, I should’ve moved faster, I should’ve gotten you out of the way-” he sobs.

“No, Hongjoong,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done, the car came out of nowhere and it was too fast.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Yunho whispers.

“We swore to never let you pass before your time again.”

You can’t help the confused look you give them, but then, you remember the reflection you saw in the lake.

How the person looked just like you, but from a different era.

The arguments you heard Hongjoong have with the others.

Softly resting your palm on Hongjoong’s tear stained face, you speak.

“I need you guys to explain everything to me.”

All nine of you sit in your living room.

The boys helped you get settled on the couch, where you sit with San and Wooyoung flanking both of your sides. Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you three while Mingi sits on the floor next to your legs. Yunho sits to the right of San and Yeosang and Jongho remain standing, but still close.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met you,” Hongjoong begins.

“We’ve been very lucky to have met you almost every single time you’ve been reborn.”

Yeosang continues.

“The first time we met you was an accident. You happened to stumble upon me when I was helping a wounded human at the time. Soon after, I introduced you to the others.”

“But I thought the only time humans could see a guardian angel was when they were close to death?” You questioned.

Jongho nods sadly.

“You passed away shortly after meeting the rest of us.”

“In almost every single life where you’ve been reborn,” Wooyoung explains.

“We’ve managed to find you, but we’ve never been granted the luxury of time.”

You softly run your fingers through his hair, hearing the tremble of his voice as he speaks.

“The last two times that you’ve been born, we’ve been fortunate enough to be your guardian angels,” Seonghwa smiles.

“But in your last life, you passed away prematurely,” San says.

You turn your head towards him.

“A freak accident that we weren’t able to save you from.”

Mingi turns around to look up at you from where he rests by your legs.

“We failed you,” he whispers sadly.

You shake your head.

“You guys didn’t fail me. Not then, and not now. Just because you guys are angels doesn’t mean you can control everything that happens.”

“Sometimes,” you take a deep breath. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t always protect the ones you love.”

“But we have to,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eye. “Not only is that our job, but for selfish reasons too.”

He looks down at his hands.

“We couldn’t take watching you die another time.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“How am I still here then?”

Hongjoong looks back up at you.

“We made a deal.”

You send him a questioning look.

“A deal?”

All the men surrounding you nod.

“What kind of deal?” You prod, noticing how they seem to hesitate to give you more details.

“Our life in exchange for yours.”

You inhale sharply, the sudden movement causing pain to shoot up your back. Wooyoung and San attempt to soothe your pain, but your mind is only focused on the information they just gave you.

“What?”

“We made a deal with God,” Yunho starts. “Our status in heaven as guardian angels, in exchange for the guarantee that you would live a full life.”

“What?” you say breathlessly. “Why, why would you guys do that?”

“Because we’re selfish,” Jongho says, looking at you with such tenderness you’re unsure of what to do with yourself.

“And we don’t care about being angels or having those powers and helping others if it means we have to live in a world without you in it,” Mingi finishes.

Tears begin to well up and spill out of your eyes before you can stop them. San and Wooyoung cuddle impossibly closer to you, hugging you tightly while the others watch on with misty eyes.

“Thank you,” you sob into your hands. “Thank you.”

They all smile.

It’s been about a month since you almost (should’ve) died.

In that month, the ex-angels did their best to help you recover from your injuries, although they certainly complained about no longer having healing powers to help stop you from being pain.

“Welcome to the life of being a human,” you rolled your eyes.

“This is lame, maybe we should’ve stayed as angels,” Wooyoung muttered.

You smacked him on the chest, ignoring his yelp and complaints.

“Don’t make me bring out the bat again,” you warned.

After you were fully recovered, you focused on helping the boys adjust to their new lives as humans.

“Why do we have to walk everywhere?” Mingi groaned, dragging his feet behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

He’s just like a little kid.

“Because my car can only fit four of you, but all eight of you decided to accompany me to the store,” you remind him.

He says nothing, but you could still hear his grumbling.

As they’ve slowly adjusted to human life, the nine of you have fallen into a smooth routine that’s oddly domestic.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to cook the meals for you guys, and you all make an effort to eat at least one meal together a day.

Seeing as most of them aren’t morning people, you typically opt to eat dinner together instead.

You’ve also decided to introduce them to your favorite bookstore.

“How ironic,” you muse, walking hand in hand with San and Yunho as you all approach the quaint shop.

“What is, sunflower?” Yeosang questions.

“This bookstore is the whole reason I met you guys in the first place,” you give San’s hand a small squeeze.

He squeezes it back three times.

Later that night, when you’ve all returned home, you guys decide to have a small movie night.

After arguing over what movie to watch, Jongho insisted on watching a horror movie, which Mingi complained about loudly.

Not that it mattered, most everyone ended up falling asleep by the time the film was halfway over, including yourself.

You could hear the sound of someone moving around quietly in the living room and turned your head to the side, burying your face deeper into Mingi’s chest. The feeling of a blanket being laid over the two of you was welcomed.

You felt someone leave a soft kiss on the side of your head.

“Goodnight my love,” Hongjoong whispered softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You hummed in reply, falling back asleep perfectly content and safe in the presence of your lovers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: my fic to celebrate hitting 50 followers, you guys are insane, i love you all so much and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez ot8 #ot8 x reader #ot8 imagine #angel au #guardian angel au #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez comfort

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 days

Text

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Ten

Summary - The meeting between Eris, Helion and Tamlin looms meanwhile further betrayal lands you in a place that threatens to break you completely.

Warnings - angst, depression, mentions of torture and trauma, ptsd themes, kinda a dark part to this series.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

The one special spot in his heart had ached through the night, like somehow, somewhere, you were pulling at the rope wrapped around his heart and soul. Though, Eris couldn't feel you, not truly, all he felt was the occasional pang in his chest that he had convinced himself was you, that it was your way of telling him that you were still there.

It was the only thing he could grasp onto that would give him any amount of hope.

Eris hadn't been able to sleep that night, not when he knew that the chance of getting you out lay in the minds of two other males, on their beliefs and morals. Instead, the High Lord lay on his, your, bed, staring up at the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. The thoughts wouldn't stop speaking to him, ones of horror at what Rhys was doing to you whilst he sat safely in Autumn, thoughts that told him how unworthy he was for not moving sooner.

An entire night had been spent that way, from dusk till' dawn, from when the sun set to when the birds began their morning greeting. Light slotted through the still-open curtains, Eris hadn't bothered to close them the night before, knowing that sleep would not grace him anyway. Tension lingered in the manor, it clung to each and every surface it could, seeping into the bones of every object it kissed; it was one of unknowing, and it was putting Eris on edge.

Swinging his legs to find the floor, Eris sat there for a moment, inhaling deeply and attempting to centre himself; his fists were balled up in the cream bed spread that still held the faint scent of you, and he rocked back and forth gently, imagining the ghost of you wrapping your arms around his chest and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

Eris didn't know how long he had sat like that, picturing you straddling him with that smile he loved so much pulling at your lips. Eris was content in sitting like that for the rest of his days if it meant that a part of you was alive within his mind. A curt knock pulled him from the thoughts, and he didn't bother turning around when the door opened and Lucien appeared, "Helion and Tamlin will be arriving soon, just in case you wanted to put a shirt on or something."

Lucien had been trying his best to bring some joy to Eris' world since you had left, he thought that you would have wanted that.

A fleeting moment of silence encapsulated the air, then Eris turned his head to the side slightly, only by a couple of inches to make it clear that he was listening, "Lucien," Eris swallowed hard and from where Lucien stood, he saw his brother fight against the tears threatening to dampen his mask, "Do you really think that she'll make it back?"

The window of the bedroom had become more of a mirror to his dreams recently, he envisioned himself rising one evening after soft waves of your scent reawakened his land to look through that window and see you lingering at the end of the path that led to the manor. Each time he looked through it, he almost crumbled with the disappointment.

Lucien had moved closer to his brother, perching on the spot beside him and sighing, "I think that there is no world that exists where she would ever truly leave you behind," Eris' chin was bowed low, he didn't wish for Lucien to side the more vulnerable side to him, no one ever had really, no one but you, "Whether she knows of the bond or not, y/n loves you. Only a fool would be blind to it."

"I remember when I first met her. It was after you had found Feyre and I, when we had returned from the Night Court after that encounter," Lucien's eyes flickered as he recounted the memory, like the images were replaying in his mind, "I remember being intimidated by her, and all she did for a couple of days was observe me, watch me closer than I ever had been before. Then one day she sat beside me and handed me a book after not speaking more than two words to me, she said that she had found me in the library staring at the spine for a second too long and knew that I was intrigued by it so she went and bought me my own copy," a fond sad smile grew on his lips, then soft amusement flashed in his eyes, "She said no one could ever take a single book from that library without her permission, she had the entire place warded against it. It was then that I knew that she was meant to be in my life in some form, no one had really taken a moment to observe me in a way that mattered. It made me feel bad actually, I thought she was watching me to decipher if I was some kind of threat when actually she was figuring out the ways to help me feel more comfortable and adjust to the life I found myself living."

"She still kept her distance a bit, but I'd often find the odd title left on my bed or some kind of Spring Court baked good on my table. It was her way of showing that she cared, she was the only one out of all of them that really made an effort with me. You hear the stories of her, of how terrifying and monstrous she is, but then you stand with her for a moment and know that she is the most pure thing to ever walk this world," Lucien closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders, and he whispered, "I miss her."

Eris rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly, "So do I, brother. So do I." Eris sighed, the weight of the truth weighing down on him.

"I need to tell you something, about y/n." Eris felt the sidelong glance streak down the side of his face, "When she was Under The Mountain, Amarantha took a special liking to her, she knew that y/n is the most powerful being in Prythian, and she had a theory. Wings are the most sacred thing to Illyrians, they're basically entangled with their souls, and Amarantha suspected that she would be able to alter y/n's soul through them." A chill shrouded the room, "Amarantha placed the stone of a demon in her mutilated flesh the night she took her wings, believing it was a direct line to possessing her, to giving her body as host to the demon trapped within the stone."

"The Monster of Velaris is real, Lucien. It's just not y/n."

Lucien's mouth had gone dry the moment Eris had suggest that you had been experimented on, shaking his head, he demanded more information, "She is sharing her body with a demon? Does she know? How do you know this?"

Straightening his back and looking beyond the window, to the place he always imagined you to be, Eris blinked, and then answered, "Honestly? I don't know if she does," Then the cogs began to turn, "Rhys sent Nesta and Azriel on a mission before I brought y/n here, he sent them Under The Mountain. Nesta found a journal of sorts written by Amarantha on all the things that have happened to her. Things that happened before Amarantha even met her."

"What do you mean?"

Eris didn't want to say it, he didn't want it to be real, not because of his lack of love for you, but because what Rhys had done to both of you was cruel, and if you knew, it may very well shatter your light. And it threatened to shatter his light too.

"We are Carranam. Our bond flows deeper than just mates," he said as though being mates was a fickle speck in the grand scope of what he felt, "Our magic flows as one, our minds reach out for one another. I made her more powerful, more of a threat, and Rhys was ordered to wipe our minds of each other," his fists clenched in the sheets at the thought, "We were in love, Lucien. I always knew it was her, even when I couldn't remember her or our time together, I knew."

Eris was the only person that you had encountered that hadn't looked at you in terror and ware, he looked at you like some precious priceless antique, he admired you from afar and could only wish to one day be graced with some part of you. Eris had never been nor ever would be afraid of you.

Neither would Lucien. "And where is this book now?"

A nudging feeling knocked on Eris' shoulder, notifying him of the two presences that had slipped through the wards from opposite sides of the boarder. Eris rose to his feet, crossing the room and beginning to dress himself in the mirror that he occasionally found you twirling in front of wearing an array on new garments that now lay in the wardrobe in waiting, "It's in the library in the House of Wind."

But that moment wasn't the right one to talk of it, not when two High Lords were approaching the manor eagerly intrigued to know of the message scribed between the lines of Lucien's summons. The two Vanserra brothers had a role to play, a vital one that would allow them to have some form of hope, that would bestow them with allies to demand your freedom.

With a shaky inhale, Eris willed the mask of the High Lord of the Autumn Court to fall over his eyes and prayed to the Mother that it would be enough to save you.

It had become clear quickly that your presence in the River House was enough to make anything with sense scatter to the farthest reaches of the city. Not a single heartbeat other than your own could be heard, it thumped so intensely that it rattled the house.

Something didn't feel right.

A poisonous venom had seeped into your bones and mind, it threatening to wilt your soul and spirit, and for the first time in your life, you felt the darkness begin to salivate over the lightest part of you. The part of you that had always been untouchable, where everyone you loved lay safely.

Rubbing the spot on you chest over your heart, you frowned at the gentle tugging pulling at you, but you continued to ignore it the best you could. Like you had since the moment you stepped beyond the wards of Autumn.

The house had been watching you, reading you, and a small smile graced your face as you turned the corner to find a steaming bowl of soup and bread waiting on the countertop. No one is here to stop you, take it, the home seemed to scream, and you were happy to indulge the order. The hem of your skirt skittered along the floor and brushed against your skin as you stopped in front of the meal, inhaling the aroma of roasted vegetables, chilli and honey; you dived in right away, scooping the spoon left on the counter into the concoction and humming when it hit your lips.

Weak fingers curled around the edge of the surface, using it as leverage to keep you from crumbling to the floor at the first real nutrition you had consumed in what felt like weeks. Time had become scattered to the point where you weren't sure how long you had been locked up in that room or how long exactly you had been a prisoner of the Night Court.

Even looking at your reflection had become strenuous. You couldn't bare to see the sullen cheekbones or the pallid hue that had possessed your skin let alone the dimmed fire in your eyes. Even the twin tattoo of Azriel's had seemed to fade, on the brink of collapse and withering at the loss of fulfilment. There was no point in looking after yourself, you knew that the chances of making it out alive were slim regardless of the alliances made with Cassian and Mor.

A faint creak sounded through the house, an opening of a door, and you froze as a soft melodic voice vibrated through the home, "Hello?" It sounded so familiar, the voice held a certain softness to it, a softness you knew very well but couldn't quite place in your haze, "It's Gwyn," she wavered, "I just wanted to drop off some treats for y/n?" A footstep echoed as the priestess delved further into the home, probably feeling the icy atmosphere coil around her frame.

Without thinking, you stepped out from the threshold of the kitchen and winced when the basket between her fingers crashed to the floor, "Oh gods," Gwyn scrambled to repack the delicately wrapped treats back into the basket and did her best to pick every crumb from the carpet before placing it to the side and approaching you, tentatively, like she had found a wounded animal in the middle of a forest.

"Gwyn," your shakily reached for her and she slid her hands into yours, her warmth instantly soothing the ache within you for a kind touch, "Are you really here?"

Gwyn glanced to your neck, to the inky black veins poking out from the onyx collar locked around your throat, and then to your wrists where her fingers had licked against the same stone, "What is this?"

"Rhys put these on me, they block my magic," the stone purred against your skin, relishing in the life pouring into it, "I'm a prisoner here now, I can't leave."

"Rhys did this to you?" Rhys her High Lord? Rhys your brother by blood? Rhys?

Humming gently, you felt the air swirl, a soft caress from the house that sought to warn you that soon enough you wouldn't be alone, "Gwyn I need you to do something," he grasped her arms desperately, her blue eyes gazed at you with water gathered on the bottom lid but she nodded, "I need you to get a message to Nesta and Eris, they're at Fir Manor in the Autumn Court. You tell them that I am here and what Rhys has done to me, you tell them that I am turning people to my side. You tell them that I love them and that if I don't make it out of here then they have to know that there is no place they could go where I wouldn't be walking beside them."

The world rumbled and you knew then that the presence approaching was not kind or understanding, it was everything opposite of that, "Take the basket and go, Gwyn," you glanced to her, "Get out of here before he sees you."

Gwyn hesitated but turned and left, her braid flowing over her shoulder as she swept up the basket of pastries in her fingers on her exit. The girl was clever enough not to linger, and you mustered up whatever little power that still dwelt within you, the last speckles of magic left, to glamour her scent just as Rhys stalked through the back door.

Rhys sniffed the air and his pupils dilated before his gaze landed on you, his frail and hunched over sister stood in the doorway that no longer reeked of Autumn. The house had whisked away its offering before he had entered, leaving no remnants of its care toward you and returning to its usual position of bystander. A talon reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, it trailed down your cheek and along your jaw, then it grasped your chin and jolted your head to meet the gaze of its owner.

"Azriel tells me that Helion and Tamlin entered the Autumn Court this morning," his head ticked to the side and his eyes darkened, he drew you closer into his body, "Seems as though your friend is rallying support."

Azriel.

Of course he was still watching over Autumn.

It was foolish to believe that you could change his mind, it was obvious that he served the delusional thoughts and beliefs of your brother, the only one who did actually. Pain struck through your body, and if it weren't for Rhys holding you up, you would have sank to the floor.

Gone were the days of entering your room to find him propped up on your comforter reading a book. Gone were the days of his showering affections and ghosting touches, of his lovesick gaze and bright smiles. Gone were the nights at the cabin promising to always care for one another and planning your futures around one another. It was all gone.

Standing chest to chest with Rhys, you could see his eyes morph to black, and now that you were powerless it was enough to terrify you, and you felt yourself shrinking in his embrace, "I have no hand in what Eris does."

"I know that my sweet sister," he pressed his lips to your forehead and smiled at the chilled caress that met them, "It just means that I now have to move you somewhere much less comfortable."

"You're a psychopath."

Rhys' smile widened into a grin and his grip wound around you a little tighter, "I prefer creative."

The world evaporated in a kaleidoscope of colour, and then you were somewhere dark and cold, where the only sound was the occasional dripping from the open sky light that allowed little to no light into the room. A metallic stench clung to the air, it was moulded with despair and longing, a horribly dark and lonely aura encapsulated the space. Dark stone encased you, no windows existed bar the one that lingered a hundred feet overhead, and the only source of light burned from the lanterns glowing every few metres, making the stone floor glow, and then you realised where you were.

The Prison.

Where the most vile and corrupt creatures were locked away and forgotten about.

Coiling his fingers around your upper arm, Rhys dragged you down the halls, groans and manic laughter emitted from the cells as they hurtled past and you bare feet struggled to keep up with Rhys' pace. You fought against his grip, using your digits to try and pry his hand from your flesh but it was no use, you had little to no strength left, you had used the last parts of your magic to glamour Gwyn's scent.

The rattling of your chains had spurred on the inhabitants of The Prison, all of which had pressed their eyes against their gates and were trying to reach you, their fingers brushing against your flesh as you pleaded with Rhys to stop whilst they whispered and hissed into the abyss.

The Princess.

Demon.

Death.

"Rhys, please, you can't do this. Please." The queen that lived within you had vanished, she had retreated into the darkest part of you for refuge and watched on as the last bulb of your light flickered.

His pace did not falter at your cries, and the unsettling vocalisations of the prisoners continued on, "I'll be back for you once this all blows over," he rounded the corner and you saw the open door, of a room that awaited to devour you and everything that you were or could be. Rhys tossed you inside, not even flinching when your knees collided with the floor and your body slumped against the poor excuse of a bed, it was more like an altar, like the one Amarantha had chained you to that night. Upon further reflection you discovered that the altar didn't just look like it, it was an exact replica of the one in her torture chamber.

Groaning doors pulled and locked into place and you crawled to it, bottom lip wobbling and resolve disappearing more with each passing moment. Grasping the bars, you hauled yourself up, clearing your blurred vision to see Rhys turning away from you and heading back in the direction where he had dragged you from, "Rhys! Please. Please don't leave me here. Please."

Soft sobs broke through your lips when he didn't even move his head and winnowed from sight. Turning from the bars, you sank to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest, your body shook furiously as it took in the darkness that welcomed you like an old friend, and that altar grinned at you like a loaded gun. Rhys knew exactly what he was doing when he put that in the chamber, it was his final attempt to break your mind, to put you back into the worst moment of your existence and watch as you succumbed to it.

For the first time in awhile, your mind was silent, no bickering thoughts swarmed around the canvas of it and in any other moment you'd be relieved, but you yearned for them to speak to you, to tell you what move to make next.

Raking your fingers through your matted hair, you allowed yourself to fall apart, muffling your cries into the torn skirt of your grey gown that drowned your figure. The writhing muscles in your shoulders caused you no pain that you hadn't already felt, and so you ignored them and crawled to the altar, pulling the thin pillow and blanket from the cold surface, finding a place in the corner of the cell and curling into a ball atop of it.

"Please keep him safe," you asked the Mother in a hushed tone, fixating your gaze on the wall, on any place that wasn't the altar, "Please allow his pages to turn gently," a tear rolled down your cheek, "Please."

As if your prayer had reached the recipient, a soft breeze swirled at your lower back, seemingly fitting the blanket tighter around your wilting body, and you sighed. The Prison wasn't a place that anyone walked out of alive, and you knew that you were no exception to the eons old knowledge.

No sleep dared to coax you, there were no happy dreams that could soothe you, and all you could do was stare at the stone alter that had cooed to your will shrouded in darkness as the first branch of your mind cleaved in two.

Author's Note

Here it is! Kind of a tough one to write x

Taglist

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elizaleclerc · 7 days

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Hello, I love your writing, can I request Charles Leclerc x singer!reader where they already knew each other back when they were teenagers but the reader moves to LA to pursue her career so they kinda feel off cuz of the long distance, so years later Charles decides to surprise her at one of her concerts and tries to shoot his shoot after all those years they end up together and it's all fluffy and cute.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense english is not my first language, thank you <3

love this!!! tysm <3

birds of a feather ✿

charles leclerc x reader

summary: fem singer!reader reignites an old teenage love with famous driver charles leclerc

songs: birds of a feather by b.eilish, the 1 by t.swift

author’s note: mostly cute and fluffy but had to add a bit of angst oops! inspo from billie’s new album obv bc that’s all i’m listening to rn. also some google translate involved so oops again if it’s wrong :)

word count: 4k

In the luxurious city of Monaco, you and Charles were cruising along the winding roads late at night, a favored pastime for the two of you. The cool breeze tousled your hair as the windows were rolled down, filling the car with the scent of saltwater and adventure. You stole a glance at Charles in the driver's seat, his face adorned with that familiar boyish grin, his eyes sparkling just as they did on the day you met him.

The car zoomed down the winding road, its expensive engine purring like a contented cat. Despite its luxurious interior, Charles had no qualms about letting you put your feet up on the dash. The scarlet sky painted with streaks of orange and pink was the perfect backdrop for this drive at sunset.

One thing different about this drive at sunset was that one of your own songs was playing on the radio. At only 19 years old, your song “Birds of a Feather” was reaching the top of the charts worldwide. At any chance he got, Charles would blast it at full volume whenever the two of you were together. It only made sense considering the song was about him.

You and Charles had been inseparable since childhood, a bond that felt unbreakable and essential to your very existence. Over the years, you both had your fair share of romantic partners, but it seemed like none of them could compare to the connection you shared. Despite any ups and downs in your own love lives, you and Charles always found your way back to each other, like two ships anchored together in the stormy sea of life.

Of course, there were fleeting moments when you wondered if there could be something more between you and Charles. The thought would cross your mind as his hand brushed yours or when he made you laugh until your sides ached. But those thoughts remained just that - fleeting and unspoken. You both cherished your friendship too much to risk changing its dynamic.

But deep down, underneath layers of familiarity and comfort, there was a quiet longing that neither of you acknowledged. A shared understanding that there was something more between you than just being best friends. And although it was left unsaid, it was an unspoken truth that added a layer of depth to your friendship.

The bass of the song throbbed through the car, drowning out Charles' words as he spoke to you. You strained to hear him over the music, but all you could see were his lips moving in time with the beat. "What?!" you shouted comically with a grin, and he reached for the volume knob to turn it down.

"I said, it's only a matter of time before you're touring worldwide," he repeated with a small smile. You shook your head in amusement. Charles always had grand visions for your music career, dreaming of reaching the stars and achieving the highest goals even when you couldn't imagine them yourself.

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” you playfully bantered with him, knowing deep down he truly believed in your talent.

A wistful smile crossed his face as he replied, “I’m serious. Before you know it, you’ll be in L.A., living your dream and making music for the world.” His words had a bittersweet edge to them, causing your own smile to falter. There was truth in his statement - Charles had just signed with Ferrari and would soon be the busiest he's ever been in his career as a Formula One driver. You were endlessly proud of him and all that he had accomplished. It feels like just yesterday when you both were just kids with big dreams, but now here you are, actually making strides towards achieving those dreams. Even with a hit song on the radio and promising opportunities ahead, you still felt like you were ages behind in becoming someone big in the music industry. And the thought of possibly leaving your best friend behind as you pursued your dreams weighed heavily on your heart.

He noticed the solemn expression on your face, his eyes full of understanding and affection. "Ah, come on," he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You know I mean that in a good way." His voice was warm and sincere."L.A. is a hotbed for the music industry right now," he continued, his excitement palpable. "And haven't you always talked about wanting to go to the States?"

You nodded slowly, unable to contain a small smile at the thought. "Yeah, but...I can't even imagine us being apart for so long," you admitted with a hint of sadness. "We've never been separated for more than a week. And even then, you were blowing up my phone every day." You couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

His own laughter rang out, contagious and genuine. "So now you know that when you're in the U.S., you won't have to worry about us not talking," he reassured you. "Clearly, I can't get enough of you." His words made your heart swell with love and comfort. Despite any ridiculous or anxious thoughts that may cross your mind, you were always reminded that the bond between you two could stretch thousands of miles.

About a week later, you had hired a manager with the help of your parents and were looking at record labels to sign with. Your social media pages were blowing up with new fans anticipating and begging for new music. It was a rightful step for a singer who had just had a song blow up, to make more music.

After many phone calls and contracts, you decided on the best deal to sign with the record label you had always wanted. With a location in Los Angeles, Sony Music Entertainment was your new employer.

As the days passed, the familiar childhood bedroom in Monaco slowly transformed into a maze of boxes and packing materials. The bittersweet scent of nostalgia clung to the air as you said goodbye to the people and places that had shaped you. It was early February, just before the newest Formula One season started, but Charles seemed to be swallowed up by his work, juggling the responsibilities of being their rookie driver. In those fleeting moments between racing events, he squeezed in time for you, knowing that soon you would both be consumed by your separate paths. On the last night together, you took a nostalgic drive around town, savoring every street corner and landmark. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you returned to your house - now empty and cold without all of your belongings. The silence hung heavy in the air as you sat side by side, cherishing these final moments together.

You both sat on your bed as you rested your head on his shoulder and asked, “How did this even happen?”

“Your talent will always drive you towards success, how could it not happen?” He replied and it made your eyes water. You weren’t sure how you were going to adjust with your time apart. You’ll miss his advice and little jokes. You’ll miss your late night drives around Monaco with him, taking in the cool air.

As he turned to face you, his piercing eyes caught the glistening trails of tears streaming down your cheeks. His own expression shifted from concern to sadness as he took in the sight of your heartbroken state. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and murmured, "Please don't cry." Your eyes met his with a solemn understanding, but your bottom lip began to quiver despite your efforts.

You couldn't help but notice the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which only made your own tears flow even more freely. Together, you both sat on the edge of your bed, gripping each other's hands tightly as you cried until it became almost comical at just how much emotion was pouring out of both of you. In between sobs, he managed to let out a small laugh and said, "It's not even an actual goodbye, I'll see you again soon.”

You couldn't help but laugh along with him through your tears. "I know," you replied with a watery smile. "I'll see you before I know it.”

But as the night wore on and the hour grew late, the reality of tomorrow morning's early flight to L.A. began to sink in. Despite wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, you both knew it was time to say goodbye. You stood up and shared one final embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug while yours rested around his neck. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort amidst the pain of parting ways.

“Tu vas me manquer mon amour,” he whispered by your ear, which made you squeeze him tighter.

“Tu vas me manquer davantage, Char.” You replied with a raspy voice, your cheeks still wet with tears. He blew you a kiss before walking out the door.

~ 5 years later ~

The electric energy of Los Angeles, California pulsed through the air as you walked towards the venue on the opening night of your highly anticipated second tour. Fresh off the massive success of your second album, fans from all over the world were eagerly awaiting your performance tonight. You could already hear their screams and see their signs, some bearing your name since the very beginning of your career. Your first tour had been small, just a few cities in the U.S., but now with your skyrocketing fame, this tour would take you to stages across the globe. The thought of performing for thousands of people in different countries sent a thrill through your veins. As you approached the entrance, excitement and nerves intertwined within you, ready to take on this new chapter in your music career.

As you nervously waited backstage, dressed in a stunning white gown for your highly anticipated opening night in Los Angeles, your mind couldn't help but wander to a familiar name: Charles. The two of you had been inseparable during your first year in L.A., constantly talking and supporting each other's dreams. But as time went on, his calls and texts became less frequent until they eventually stopped altogether. You found yourself relying on social media to keep up with him and were happy to see that he had found success with Ferrari, but also couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and confusion as to why he had suddenly disappeared from your life. You debated reaching out to congratulate him on his wins, but deep down, you knew it wouldn't make a difference.

The next years after that became hard, and you struggled to make genuine connections with anyone in the industry. You found that often other artists wanted to use you for their fame or publicity. But you had found one genuine person, your boyfriend. The two of you dated for two years, but two weeks before the opening night of your world tour, he broke things off. You were devastated, as he had become someone you loved dearly and could trust with your whole being. His reason was that he realized he couldn’t handle your level of fame and that it was becoming too much for him to handle.

So here you were, backstage, reminiscing on your career up until this point. Your mind ran over the setlist a thousand times. “Birds of a Feather” hadn’t made the cut for this tour, and you stopped performing it all together once Charles had stopped communicating with you. You weren’t sure why he was on your mind so much for your opening night.

As you stepped out onto the stage, a wave of excited nerves washed over you. But with each step and movement, your confidence grew until it radiated off of you like a second skin. The bright lights illuminated your white dress, making it glow against the dark backdrop. You knew this dress well, having spent hours upon hours rehearsing in it, mastering every twirl and flick of the sleeves. And now, as you sang and danced flawlessly, you felt like a true star. Every note was hit perfectly, every movement graceful and deliberate. It was as if you were born to be on that stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. The familiar click of a metronome and the muffled directions from backstage played in your in-ears, guiding you through the performance like a well-oiled machine. You had become a masterful performer, honing your craft to perfection.

You wished you could remember every moment of this night as you went through the setlist. You performed “the 1”, a song from your most recent album. Fans speculated it was about the recent split with your boyfriend, but really in your mind you knew it was about Charles. Your fans mostly were unaware of Charles and the old friendship the two of you had. He rarely talked about you in the media, and you were never asked about him, even though the two of you were individually growing more famous by the day.

As the final song ended, you returned backstage, the sweat dripping down your face and your body heaving with exhaustion. This tour was more physically demanding than your last one, with intricate dance routines and high-energy performances. But it was all worth it as you heard the crowd's roar of approval after each song and saw their hands in the air, singing along to every lyric. The adrenaline rush and satisfaction of a flawless opening night kept you going despite the fatigue setting in.

You got a flood of compliments from your team and the crew backstage as you felt the dewy feeling of sweat on your forehead cool down. Your manager came up to and wrapped you in a big hug, congratulating you and updating you on the next steps for the tour.

“I know you don’t typically meet people after shows, but there’s actually a visitor here for you. He was pretty persistent.” She told you as you stood outside your dressing room.

“Who is it?” You asked tiredly, not wishing for long interactions with people after the show. You were worn out, and typically napped or slept through the night after a long show.

“He said his name is Charles Leclerc. Went on about how you guys were childhood friends. He showed his ID and credentials so we allowed it.” Your manager explained everything and as she was speaking your face became flushed. Charles was here, in L.A? And your management had allowed him to meet with you. You were partly in shock and partly frustrated with how easily he was able to persuade your team.

“Well…where is he?” You asked, and your manager pointed to your dressing room door. “He’s in my dressing room?” You questioned in a surprised voice, lowering your voice in case he could hear you.

“We weren’t sure where else he could’ve waited. He made it seem like he needed to have a serious talk with you.” She explained further and you put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth, and thought that maybe she was joking. You thought that you’d open up your dressing room door and it would be empty, earning a loud laugh from her and a “Got you!”

As you slowly opened your door, still clad in your flowing white dress, your heart caught in your throat as you saw Charles sitting on the plush brown leather couch. The air was thick with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, evidenced by Charles' fidgeting hands rubbing against his pants. You could barely breathe as you managed to utter a breathless greeting, "Hi."

He stood up abruptly, his body language tense and unsure. “Hi,” he replied.

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain as you asked, "What...um...what are you doing here?" Your fingers instinctively ran through your slightly tangled hair as you waited for his response, feeling both overwhelmed and curious about this unexpected visit.

As he stood before you, he seemed to struggle with his words, his voice catching and pausing as if trying to contain an overwhelming emotion. You gazed at him in awe, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. The dimple in his cheek still deepened when he spoke, the same crystal eyes sparkled with unreadable emotions. But now his shoulders were broader, defined muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and his neck had thickened with strength. It was clear that time had passed, but it had only enhanced his features instead of diminishing them. "I," he finally managed to say, his gaze never leaving yours, "I came here to apologize." You couldn't believe he was standing in front of you after so long. And in this moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him and how different things could have been if he had stayed.

“Apologize?” You repeated, awaiting further clarification.

“I’ve missed you terribly.” He began to pour out, finally getting a grip on his words, “Every day we haven’t been together has haunted me. You’ve plagued my dreams, my every waking thought.” He took a swallow, “I see you online, doing amazing things, and I just feel this guilt that I’m not there with you.”

You could hardly believe the words he was saying. You felt the same, you missed him every morning you woke and every night you went to sleep. Yet you felt a tinge of resentment. He could have been there, he could have responded to your dozens of calls and texts.

“I’m sorry, mon chérie.” He finished his speech.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your eyes watered with emotion, your face contorted with hurt. Your voice came out breathless as you spoke, "Char, why didn't you call?" Your heart ached with longing and you couldn't understand why he hadn't taken action to bridge the distance between you. The unspoken desire between you was almost tangible, making the current situation even more painful for both of you.

“My ex-girlfriend, once we got together she saw how often we communicated and told me that I couldn’t talk to you anymore. And I thought I loved her so much that I was willing to do whatever it took. But…it turns out…” He paused, looking you in the eyes.

“What?” You questioned, waiting for him to spit it out.

“It turns out as the years went on, that I just loved you.” He said as he stepped closer.

“You don’t mean that,” You denied shaking your head, a single tear running down your cheek.

“But I do,” he grabbed your hand, “I think I’ve always loved you.”

You broke out into a grin while tears still fell, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry mon amour, I guess I was just too stupid to actually do anything. But I love you, I love you so much.” His arms wrapped around your waist, kissing the top of your head.

You pulled back and placed your hands on his face, admiring his mature features. He took his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. “I love you too,” You told him and he grinned. “Will you finally kiss me?”

His lips met yours in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. As your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you couldn't help but smile as his lips moved against yours. It was your first kiss with the love of your life, a moment that you would never forget.

You had always known deep down that he was the one for you, but you had spent so long convincing yourself that a friendship was all it could ever be. But now, as you felt the warmth of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss, you realized that the love of your life could also be your best friend - the person who knows and understands you better than anyone else in the world. And in that moment, you were grateful for every step that had led you to this perfect moment with him.

Charles had to return to his Formula One season, but the two of you called every day. He made it to shows on your tour when he could, and when you traveled to France to play your home show, he was there for every minute of it.

The crowd knew that this show was special, and fans had picked up on the new romance between you and Charles. Everyone was loving it, and older fans finally put the pieces together on the connection the two of you had. So for your home show, you played “Birds of a Feather” for everyone as a surprise, with Charles in attendance. The song had only changed meaning slightly, as you sang it with more love towards him than you’ve ever had before. Headlines were soon filled with your name along with his.

As the next year rolled around and January came, the two of you were inseparable at award shows, him proudly by your side for every one of your achievements. His smile lit up the room and his hand always found yours in the sea of people. Even when you won your first Grammy, he was there in all of your acceptance speeches, his eyes sparkling with pride.

As the year went on and you took a break from touring, you joined him on the road during his racing season. The roar of engines and smell of burning rubber filled your senses as you watched him race with skill and determination. The paddock quickly became like a second home to you, with fans flocking to meet the both of you. The Ferrari team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. It was a dream come true to be able to share this passion with him, and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your time off.

Charles never dulled your shine; in fact, he basked in its radiance. He was not intimidated by your fame, but rather, he reveled in it. As you both shared stories about past relationships, Charles' understanding became apparent. He may have been known for different reasons, but he knew the highs and lows that came with celebrity status. Together, you formed an unbreakable bond of understanding and support. Life had become akin to heaven with Charles by your side, a constant source of love and grounding amidst the chaos of fame.

Together, you moved into a luxurious apartment in the heart of Monaco. The spacious living room had been transformed into your personal music studio, with instruments and recording equipment scattered about in organized chaos. The walls were adorned with posters from your past tours and handwritten lyrics. Charles stood by the window, looking out at the stunning view of the city below, while you strummed your guitar on the plush couch. The sense of security and stability he brought to your life was palpable - his presence assuring you that he would always be there, no matter where your music took you. As you played him your latest compositions, his fingers effortlessly danced across the keys of the piano, adding depth and richness to the melodies. Together, you created magic in that space - harmonizing not just in music but also in life.

As you laid in bed one night, your head rested on the pillow turned towards him, you caught him staring at you. You grinned, “What?”

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone more beautiful before in my life.” He told you in a low voice, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing you should’ve expected him to shower you with compliments.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Je t’aime chéri.”

You both settled into bed, cuddled up next to each other. He kissed your temple, “Je t’aimerai toujours plus.”

#charles leclerc #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fic #f1 #f1 imagine

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