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pucksandpower · 5 months

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Your Friend Steve

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: it’s finally me and you, and you and me … just us, and your friend Charles

r/relationshipadvice

u/yourusername · 9h

My boyfriend (26M) and I (22F) cannot get a second alone!

The two of us have been together for a few years now. We met through mutual friends and really hit it off. He’s caring, thoughtful, and we have the best time together.

The issue is ... his best friend (26M) is ALWAYS around. And I mean always. We’ll be out to dinner and bestie will show up and pull up a chair. We’ll be cuddling on the couch watching Netflix and he’ll let himself in with the spare key and wedge between us. I swear this guy is like an overeager puppy sometimes.

The other day I came home with my boyfriend and bestie was there ... sleeping on MY side of the bed because he “got lonely” at his place. And don’t get me started on trying to plan a vacation for just the two of us. Without fail, bestie always finds out where we are and shows up.

I’m happy they’re so close and I’d never want to get between them or ask my boyfriend to pick. But his best friend is starting to feel like a third wheel in our relationship. I jokingly said to my boyfriend that at this rate, bestie will be part of our engagement and marriage too!

I could really use some outside advice. How do I kindly set some boundaries with my boyfriend’s overly-attached best friend? I want all of us to still be friends but the constant third-wheeling is getting to be a bit much.

u/relationshipguru123 · 8h

Wow, this sounds really annoying and awkward! Hate to say it but your boyfriend needs to step up and set some better boundaries with his friend. As close as they may be, it’s not ok for him to let his friend crash your alone time constantly. It’s disrespectful to you and your relationship. If your bf won’t address it, you’ll have to be the “bad guy” and talk to the friend directly to give him a reality check.

u/NeedMoreSpace · 7h

I feel you, OP! My sister deals with this with her husband’s best friend too. They even joked that the friend would be IN the delivery room when they have kids one day 😳 She finally sat down with her husband and told him that while she cares about the friend, she needs some lines drawn for their marriage’s sake. Maybe suggest setting one or two date nights a week that are just for you two? And no dropping in unannounced! Compromise is key.

u/BFFboundaries · 5h

This behavior would drive me CRAZY! You need to put your foot down with your bf and tell him his friend’s constant presence is affecting your relationship. Then talk to the friend together to make it clear you just need some alone time as a couple sometimes. If they don’t respect reasonable space, it will breed resentment.

r/relationships

u/DutchLion · 5h

Help! My best friend (26M) is cockblocking me without even realizing it!

I (26M) have been together with my girlfriend (22F) for a few years. She’s awesome — fun, hilarious, and crazy sexy. She puts up with my quirks and even likes watching sports with me. Absolute keeper!

The problem is, my best friend has NO boundaries. I love him like a brother but he has zero concept of personal space or alone time.

Just last night, my girl and I were enjoying some long overdue freaky time together, when who bursts through the bedroom door unannounced? Yep, my best friend. Turns out he “accidentally” made copies of my keys ages ago.

Before I can react, he’s jumped onto the bed between us asking what we’re up to. My girlfriend was mortified and hurried to cover up. There went the mood for the rest of the night thanks to Captain Cockblock!

That’s just the latest in a long string of intrusions. Double dates, surprise sleepovers in OUR bed, you name it. I’m going to have to lock down the apartment Fort Knox style to get any intimacy!

Don’t get me wrong, I would take a bullet for my best friend. But how do I politely tell him that constant third-wheeling is killing my game and giving me the most painful blue balls known to man? Is there a tactful way to set some boundaries so we BOTH stay sane and satisfied?

u/CantUnseeThat · 4h

Dude, I felt awkward just READING this! Major props to your girlfriend for being so chill. You gotta have a talk with your boy and set some hard lines. A real best friend would respect that your relationship needs privacy too.

u/Locks4aReason · 3h

Your friend needs better boundaries yesterday. Sit him down, tell him you get he’s lonely but he can’t just walk in whenever, especially when sexy times are happening! Maybe suggest setting him up on some dates so he finds fulfillments elsewhere.

u/needabroboundary · 3h

As much as you love your best friend, your personal life with your lady should be a priority over letting him run wild! Have a man-to-man talk and make it clear you just need some couple time a few days a week. Offer to schedule some designated bro time to keep that bond too. Gotta compromise.

u/needspace321 · 2h

Don’t feel bad about setting some hard boundaries, even if it bruises his ego at first. True friends will understand. Explain you just need some regular alone time with your gf. Offer a standing weekly bro night to keep the friendship intact too. You need to have that balance!

r/AmItheAsshole

u/PrinceOfMonaco · 3h

AITA for wanting to spend time with my best friend and his girlfriend?

Some background — my friend (let’s call him M) and I go way back to childhood. We’re basically as close as brothers. A few years ago he started dating his now serious girlfriend (we’ll call her Y).

Initially, I’ll admit I was worried M would drift away and our bromance would fade. But much to my delight, Y is awesome! She likes the same sports, laughs at my jokes, and comes to watch our competitions. Honestly it feels like I gained a sister!

Naturally, the three of us started hanging out constantly. I know me and M have always valued bro time together. But now Y joins our gaming sessions, I ride along on their date nights often, and I will even crash in their guest room after late nights! It’s been pretty great.

Or so I thought? Lately I’ve noticed them acting strange and tense around me. They barely react when I barge into their room or surprise them by their cars after work. Sometimes they pretend to be “busy” if I try making plans last minute.

I can’t figure out why though? Just the other day, I popped by to say hi only to have M rather sternly tell me I should “call before visiting from now on.” And I could swear I heard Y whisper about needing “boundaries” … whatever that means!

I’m starting to feel hurt they suddenly seem fed up with me! AITA here? Am I missing something? Someone help me decode these mixed signals!

u/needboundaries101 · 3h

YTA. I know you value your friendship but your total lack of boundaries is overbearing. Your friend is trying to set reasonable limits without damaging the friendship but you’re oblivious to all hints. Surprising them and inviting yourself along all the time is inconsiderate. Give them space!

u/respectrelationships · 3h

Soft YTA. I get you cherish the bromance and her friendship too. But constantly crashing date nights, unannounced visits, etc is cockblocking to the max! They likely feel too awkward to bluntly tell you that they need alone time too sometimes. Tone down the clinginess before you do permanent damage!

u/flying_solo · 2h

NAH but only because you seem genuinely unaware your behavior is an issue! Most people would have picked up on the hints by now. You should DEFINITELY be calling ahead before visits or tagging along to closed plans. Give them a chance to say no thanks. Gotta let your bro spread his wings too.

u/threesacrowd · 2h

YTA. You would lose your mind if your best friend was this invasive during your dates! When they make excuses or leave early, that’s NOT an invitation to join them unasked and uninvited next time! They’re just too polite to be harsh so I’ll spell it out — you have to give them personal alone time without taking offense.

charles_leclerc

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, and 1,273,948 others

charles_leclerc happy third anniversary to my favorite couple ❤️

View all 3,085 comments

maxverstappen1 thanks, mate!

charles_leclerc i’m going to pick up some dinner from that italian place we all like and i should be at your place in around 20 minutes

yourusername we really appreciate that, charlie. but you know … it’s our anniversary and we would like to celebrate alone

charles_leclerc i totally understand! that’s why i’m taking the food to go so we can celebrate alone with just the three of us

maxverstappen1 yeah but we want to ✨celebrate✨ you get me?

charles_leclerc you want me to stop and buy some sparklers?

yourusername what we’re trying to say is that we want to celebrate … in bed

charles_leclerc even better! your mattress is so comfortable and we can put some netflix on while we have a sleepover together

landonorris they’re literally spelling it out for you in black and white 💀

pierregasly mon ami, they’re trying to say they need some adult time tonight 😏 maybe skip the visit this once

danielricciardo how do i say this nicely … max and y/n are clearly desperate for uh, anniversary cuddles without you as the little spoon!

lewishamilton someone rescue my man charles from himself before it’s too late. praying the two lovebirds to get to celebrate properly tonight 😉

charles_leclerc of course we will all celebrate properly! i have champagne

roscoelovescoco read’s the room’s 🙄

f1wagupdates i can’t tell if charles is trolling them or if he genuinely doesn’t get it 😭

charles_leclerc what is there to get?

yourusername i give up 🤦‍♀️

yourusername … what flavor popcorn do you want for our sleepover?

charles_leclerc white cheddar, please!

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marvelfilth · 6 months

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Jealous girl (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: secret relationship, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, fingering, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Natasha's in her 30s), praise, pet names, orgasm denial

Summary: your best friend Peter needs help, Natasha's not happy about it at all.

Masterlist

You're standing in the kitchen when it happens.

Peter barges in, his hair a tangled mess, his sweatshirt inside out. You jump away from Natasha's arms, making her spill her protein shake. She shoots him a dirty look, her lips curling up upon registering his disheveled state.

You try to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but you know you're doing a terrible job when Peter winces apologetically, throwing a bag full of Ben and Jerry's on the counter.

"Code red," he pants.

You straighten immediately, trying to shoo Natasha away with a look, but, instead of leaving, she makes herself comfortable on the counter with an excited glint in her eyes.

You've been friends with Peter ever since he ran you over with his bike in kindergarten, leaving you with a tiny scar on your shin, and a fear of any two-wheeled object. Your friendship grew over the years, and soon enough you were joined at hip, going to the same school and college, tagging along on his patrols, mainly to keep him out of the police radars.

"What's wrong?" You ask, fearing the worst. "Is Venom acting up again? Is it Felicia? I swear to God, if it's her again I'm gonna-"

That's when you decided to make a secret code to help you stay under the radar. In hindsight, you could've thought of something more elaborate than code red, code green and code yellow, but neither of you had enough brain power for that.

"It's MJ!" He cuts you off, shifting on his feet.

You stammer, looking at Natasha for help, but she appears equally puzzled. "I didn't think she had it in her, to be honest," she says, taking a sip of her shake.

"What?" Peter yelps, before jumping up, his hands flying up in an X motion. "No! She's not- No! She's not a villain, or a criminal, or anything like that."

You decide you've had enough of his blabbering, so you take hold of his shoulders and corner him against the counter. "What is it, Peter?"

He takes a deep breath, his cheeks painted crimson, and blurts out, "I really need you to kiss me."

You jump away like you've been burned, shooting an alarmed look to Natasha, but she doesn't register it, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her knuckles white from the grip she has on her protein shake. You think you can hear it creak.

You turn back to look at your best friend, who's blissfully unaware of your relationship with the most dangerous person in this building, just like everyone else on the team.

Natasha's reluctance to share her love life with her teammates came to bite her in the ass.

"No, wait. That came out wrong." He winces, his eyes darting to Natasha. You can hear him gulp when their eyes meet.

"I think you were pretty clear, Parker," she gritts, jumping off the counter, and comes to stand behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

You send him an encouraging look, taking hold of Natasha's hand behind your back.

"I have a date with MJ-"

"Doesn't explain why you need my- Y/n to kiss you."

You shoot her a warning look. "Let him finish."

Her jaw clenches, but she relents, nodding to the boy to continue.

He looks like he regrets every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Okay, so. I have a date with MJ, and I planned it all out, right? But… um… there's a problem." He clasps his hands, thumbs fiddling. You stay silent in fear of him closing off, and patiently wait for him to continue. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and I've been kissed twice, if you count that one time when Ned fell on top of me and kind of swallowed my face." Natasha snorts, and Peter blushes deep red, his eyes pleading. "I need practice because otherwise I'll just embarrass myself, and she'll hate me forever."

You feel Natasha tense up again, and you're ready to ask her to leave, but she beats you to it, speaking up before you could open your mouth. "I don't think MJ would like you kissing someone else right before your date." Her tone is even, carefully emotionless, but you feel the way her breathing shakes slightly, her grip on your hand tightening.

Peter looks at you, brows set in confusion. "But it's Y/n, she doesn't count as someone!" You huff, indignant. He winces, but goes on. "I could ask Ned, but I don't think he has any experience, so please, please do this for me?"

You turn around to face Natasha. "Can you leave us?"

Her eyes narrow, lips curled. "You're not kissing him." Her hands land on your waist possessively, and you're suddenly turned around. She lowers her chin to your shoulder, lips grazing the shell of your ear as she speaks, "Listen to me very carefully, Parker."

Peter gulps, and takes a step back, his eyes wide and alert.

"You're going to leave and find someone else to help with your little problem. We'll pretend this conversation never took place, and you'll never even think about kissing Y/n again. Am I being clear?" She almost growls, her eyes flashing.

Peter nods dumbly, before hurrying to the door. He stops halfway to shoot you a bewildered look over his shoulder. "Wait… Are you two-"

"Out, Parker," Natasha barks, her face half buried in the crook of your neck. You blush, and wave your friend goodbye, grateful when he disappears behind the door without any further questions.

"Tasha," you whine, turning in her hold. "That wasn't necessary."

She scoffs, and picks you up with practiced ease, settling you on the counter and taking place between your parted thighs. "Yes it was." She sucks at the tender skin just below your collarbone, leaving a stinging bruise. "I can't believe you wanted me to leave." She squeezes your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth is all over your neck - sucking, biting and licking, claiming. You're sure no amount of concealer will be enough to hide the marks.

"Natty," you whimper, "he's my friend, I wanted to talk some sense into him."

She hums, the skin on the underside of your jaw pulled between her teeth. "I did the same thing, no?" Her fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts, but you're quick to catch her wrist.

"What are you doing?" You look around, panting heavily. "What if someone walks in?"

"Daddy," you moan, pushing her face lower. Her fingers feel so heavenly that you don't even care about anyone walking in - you need her tongue, now. "Please."

You're pushed flat against the counter then, your back on the cold marble, your ass hanging right off the edge. Your fingers disappear in her tresses when she bends down to place a kiss on your clothed cunt.

"Let them see who you belong to," she murmurs, entering your aching core. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, your pussy clenching around her long digits. Fleeting kisses are placed all over your stomach, her fingers curling inside your heat.

She chuckles, gently biting on your hip bone. "So needy already? I barely started." She adjusts the angle, fastening the pace, but your shorts get in the way, making you huff impatiently.

"Take them off, please," you whimper, clenching around her.

"And when someone walks in, and sees you spread wide open, what then? You think I'd allow anyone to see this pretty pussy?" Her fingers scissor inside you, stretching your walls.

"N-no."

"That's right," she hums, "because it belongs to me." She pulls out to land a short slap on your slit. "Perfect little hole for daddy to play with."

She teases your folds, collecting wetness before pushing her fingers into your mouth. You eagerly suck them in, letting her fuck your mouth, tips of her fingers pushing against your throat. "Such an obedient girl," she murmurs, dark eyes fixated on your lips. You squirm, hips rocking against her abdomen with desperate need of release.

She pulls out her fingers, smearing your slick mixed with spit over your chin.

"I need you," you whine, catching her wrist and leading her hand lower, your panties sticking to your drenched cunt.

She takes the fabric in her fist, and tugs it up, making it press against your pulsing clit. You moan loudly, throwing your head back. She kneads your supple breast with her other hand, and you arch into her, pulling her closer to your aching core with your hips.

"We'll tell everyone tonight," she murmurs against your lips. "But right now you need to be a good girl and take everything daddy gives you."

You nod, feeling your pussy clench around nothing, begging for Natasha's fingers to return. She tugs on your lower lip with her teeth and plunges three fingers inside, hitting a spongy spot deep in your heat. You arch off the counter, pressing against her front, your legs clenched hard around her hips. She grunts lowly, setting a slow pace, making sure to explore your pussy with each thrust, collecting your wetness when she pulls out only to push it back inside. You bury your face in her shoulder, your fingers disappear in her hair, tugging at the tresses.

"Good?" She whispers against your ear, spreading her fingers inside, her thumb firm on your clit.

You gasp, and bite down on the muscle of her shoulder, nodding with your eyes clenched shut. "S-so good, daddy."

She hums, her full lips pulling in a smirk, and starts circling your pulsing nub. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and she takes the opportunity to paint your neck purple, sucking on the tender skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"M'gonna… I'm gonna come," you whimper when she hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

"Did I say you could, babygirl?" She chuckles into your neck, making sure to hit the spot with each thrust. You shake your head, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in effort to stop your approaching orgasm, your body as tense as a drawn bowstring. "That's right, baby," she cooes, kissing the corner of your mouth, "you're not allowed to."

Your heart drops to your stomach, torn between wanting to be Natasha's good girl and giving in to the pleasure. “Please, please let me…” you whine, buckling against her hand.

She pulls away, her eyes level with yours, and you want to sob from how good she feels inside you, your pussy clenching around her slender fingers.

“You’ll hold it for me,” she says, “and I'll make up for it later tonight.” You almost huff in frustration, knowing that you'll have to walk around the Compound painfully wet for the rest of the day.

She grabs your jaw, seemingly reading your thoughts. “And don't even think about touching yourself.”

She pulls away abruptly and tugs you off the counter before fixing your shorts and stepping away. You blink rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change, your pussy aching in the sweetest way.

Sam enters the kitchen a second later.

You subtly wipe your mouth clean, and even out your breathing while he rummages the upper shelves. Natasha's eyes glint with mischief as she slowly wipes her fingers with a paper towel.

"You up for a training session?" She asks Sam, and you shoot her a furious look. Your glare does nothing to the redhead, as she continues watching you silently, a teasing smirk pulling at her mouth.

Sam scoffs, looking between you two. "Like you weren't about to get nasty two seconds ago."

Natasha chuckles, her eyes flashing. "About to? You need to work on your observation skills, Wilson."

Sam stills, his eyes darting between you two, and you look away, knowing that nothing could hide your red cheeks and bruised lips.

He chokes on his water the moment he sees your neck. "Damn, Romanoff," he gasps, coughing. "Right here?! This is a sacred place! I cook here!"

Natasha hums, shrugging carelessly. "I eat here," she retorts, and you can tell by the crinkles near her eyes she's about to say something that's gonna make you want to bury yourself. "Actually, I was about to devour something really delic-"

"Natasha!" You shriek, tugging her away from the kitchen, but not before quietly apologizing to Sam.

She laughs quietly, following you to the bedroom. "I think we're banned from the kitchen now."

She thinks. You scoff, shaking your head. Trust Natasha to go from a full secrecy mode to telling every living soul about your sex life.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #black widow smut #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

AU of my Gotham/Tim Drake! Danny where Danny doesn’t know any knowledge beforehand about the DC universe.

Danny doesn’t know how he got here, but the fact that he now shares something in common with Vlad other than their technical halfa status disgusts him

His new name is Timothy Jackson Drake. It’s so far removed from Danny that his parents had him examined for deafness because he didn’t respond to it. He got better at it, at putting on the mask Janet and Jack Drake wanted to see. So they took him to the circus.

He meets Dick Grayson. Danny thinks the kid is adorable, even if Danny himself is technically younger. He sees the flying Graysons fall. The buzzing in his head doesn’t go away.

He’s five, when the fading spirit of Gotham reaches out and pleads her King to protect her city in her stead. She is fading. He says yes, because she’s one of his. The buzzing in his head settles and oh because that’s what’s been missing this entire time. Danny didn’t have a haunt and Gotham gave him one.

He grieves when she dies, the new title settling around small shoulders, and the city grieves with him. In the city proper, Batman and Robin are having the worst night of their lives in the sudden storm.

He’s nine. Robin is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson, in turn, is an idiot. Batman… well, he’s at least mentoring and protecting the child vigilante, which is more than Danny ever had. He grows fond of them. How could he not, when they tried their hardest to help his city? To help him?

He shows himself, to the duo, in his Phantom form. It’s still him, still modeled after Danny Fenton’s face instead of Tim Drake’s. Ghosts are a reflection of the soul, after all.

“Who are you,” Batman demands, shielding Robin with half a step.

“Gotham.” He replies. Danny wills the city to affirm his claim and the city wraps its arms around the vigilantes. Batman and Robin understands, a deep well of pure knowledge being tapped into in ways they weren’t truly meant to understand.

“…How?”

“Magic,” Phantom says, dry. He tells them of city spirits, and that they can call him in times of dire need.

Dick calls him to help with Two Face. Two Face learns the pain of unmelting ice to the balls.

His core aches when the Bats fight, but Danny knows now that it is inevitable. They’re part of his haunt, his ‘fraid. He knows these things far before they come into fruition.

Dick moves to a sister city. Phantom expands his haunt to Bludhaven because he doesn’t, won’t, ever leave his Robins to themselves.

Nightwing is hopeful, is pleasantly surprised, and very suspicious when he shows up during patrol.

“Gotham…? What are you doing here…? This isn’t, well, Gotham?”

“Satellite City. It is an extension of myself. You were Robin, yes. You’re Nightwing, now. But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you when I can.”

Phantom goes back, and finds a kid trying to steal tires to make a living. He guides his Knight to him. The starved features, the bones Danny could see, it tugs at his core. It feels like the Ancient of Fate themselves were pulling him along.

“How’d you know I was taking the wheels?”

“Gotham.”

“Are you… high on shrooms or something?”

Bruce sighs. Batman asks Gotham to meet the new Robin, and chuckles when Jason is surprised by the glowing green figure.

Phantom hides this Robin just as much as the last one. He curls shadows around his vigilantes, sometimes at the same time, and softens what little sounds they made while stalking through his city for crime.

He makes small jokes with Jason. Danny forgets, a little, the crushing loneliness of being Timothy Drake.

“I didn’t kill Garzona!”

“You-”

Batman stops as a chill he’s never had experienced directed at him weaves around his neck. An angry Gotham.

“He didn’t kill him.” Danny slides a cold hand on Jason’s shoulders.

But the damage had been done and the next day, Batman is begging Danny to tell him any clues of where Jason had gone.

“Ethiopia.”

He clears the way for Batman to get to Robin. He clears the way for Bruce to get to Jason.

He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Batman would handle everything when in the end, he’s just a man in a mantle that demands more than he ever thought he’d have to pay.

Robin is dead and Danny grieves. The skies crack open and pours a torrent of smogged rain water upon the streets of Gotham. Despite that, Crime Alley is untouched by flood. They say the second Robin was protecting his home.

In a way, it’s not wrong.

Gotham fishes Batman from the bay, carelessly tossing the broken Joker against a shipping container.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’ll die.”

Bruce, Batman, lays on his back, eyes glazed and empty. “Maybe I want to.” He admits. And Danny can’t lose someone else. It’s already bad enough he feels the death of everyone in his city, he can’t lose him too. But Dick won’t come back. He already denied Gotham when Phantom had asked him to come back. Granted, Dick was nervous about denying him the entire time, but Danny realized that he’d lost a brother in the colors his parents chose for Dick. Danny- Phantom had cradled Dick in a swaddle of shadows and comfort.

“Alright.”

“Is it? Alright? I- I don’t want to fail you, Gotham.”

“It is. You’ve always made me proud. You will always make me proud. Whether it be by different name, it matters to me not. Stay. Heal.”

Like Dick was given permission, like he received a hint of peace, Dick Grayson crumpled to the floor and sobbed into Gotham’s shoulder.

(Later, long after Dick Grayson realized his little brother was also his city personified, he cries again into Tim’s shoulders after the later dropped a flower pot perfectly on top of Catalina Flores’ head.)

Gotham, Phantom, Danny makes a choice.

“Tomorrow, a child will show up at your door. You will let him in.”

“No- I can’t. I won’t.” He knows what Danny will ask of him.

“You will.” Danny doesn’t ever do it with his people, with his city, but dire times call for dire actions. It is an order. And Batman is Gotham’s knight. “You will. You will train him. You need a Robin to leash your brutality. I need a Robin, for Robin is my hope. The city’s hope. Our people’s hope. Do not forget the goal you have set out to accomplish in my city.”

Batman rages at him, until he falls unconscious from the wounds he’s gathered. Danny brings him home. He tells Alfred what to expect tomorrow. Bruce wakes up, eyes fixated on the crack that appeared on Danny’s neon green face. ��Did. Did I do that?”

Danny nods slowly.

Batman crumples into Bruce Wayne. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Gotham watches him, unreadable. “Tomorrow.” He says, before fading away.

Tim Drake shows up at the door. Nightwing shows up not long after. Tim Drake adapts to Bruce Wayne’s cold looks and brutal training. Slowly, but surely, he leashes in Batman’s grief fueled brutality and less criminals go to prison with half of their lives beaten out of them.

Batman doesn’t see Gotham as much anymore. He feared that he’s angered his city, that he is no longer welcome.

When Tim figures it out… he allows the roads and the shadows to help Batman once more.

Batman stared intently at the extra coverage. “Thank you,” Tim hears him whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And when Jason Todd comes back to life and attacks Tim in the tower, Tim lets Hood beat him. Gotham had failed him, as Jason’s city. He deserves it. (He doesn’t but Danny had gone past the point of being healthy about his own physical wellbeing. Perhaps being a city spirit this long had affected him, even with the King’s title mitigating the worst of the damages.

“HE REPLACED ME!”

“Because I ordered him to.” Tim whispers, past the pain of a broken leg.

“You? Order Batman around? If you’re going to lie, make it a better one, Replacement.”

Tim catches Jason’s wrist, the one holding the knife to Tim’s throat.

“Robin,” he says simply, allowing Gotham to come out and peer at the child that is his.

Jason stares, disbelieving. Gotham had… Gotham had come by and approved of his plans to clean up Crime Alley. Gotham had extracted a promise not to damage the buildings.

“No.”

His city stares back and him and Jason stumbles away. Tim shifts into Danny, into Gotham.

“You…”

“I am Gotham. I- I did not want to wear these colors. They were yours and Dick’s. But Bruce was hurting the city, he was hurting me. So I made sure he stopped.”

Jason stares at the new cracks, the fresh ones he just caused and the old ones he does not remember being on Danny’s ghostly skin.

Jason swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. I am sorry I was not there to save you. I am sorry that you died.”

Jason stares at him. The Replacement is Gotham. Jason almost destroyed his city.

“I am glad that you’ve returned. That you’re alive, now.”

“…Really?”

“Always.”

Alternative Version of the above Tower Scene:

Jason slides the knife against the Replacement’s neck.

Danny sighs. “I can’t believe I’m dying again.”

Jason pauses. “What the fuck did you just say, Replacement?”

Danny rolls his eyes at him and Jason rethinks his decision of not offing the little fucker right away.

“You think you’re the first one to die in this household? Get a grip. I did it first, way before you did, jackass.”

Tim is 14. He’s a child. What the fuck is Jason doing?

“When…?”

“How do you think I became Gotham, little bird?”

Jason freezes. And then he’s scrambling backwards, the knife flung away in his horror.

Tim shifts into Gotham and Jason bites back a cut of regret and bitterness.

He… no, what? What even is happening?

“Why is the Joker not dead? You… you told me that you loved me. That Gotham… that-”

“I’m cruel, little bird. The Joker would not suffer as much if he were dead.”

“He’s killing people! He’s killing your own!”

“So everyone thinks.”

“What?”

“I am Gotham, little bird. Mass hallucinogenic gasses are so within my reach to the point it is concerning. Perhaps you should help Ivy with the city clean up?”

“Huh?!”

1K notes · View notes

mockerycrow · 6 months

Note

okay, so something unsettling. with ghost x gn! reader. “don’t worry, it’s not my blood”. maybe you are ghost’s civilian friend in an abusive relationship and one day it reaches a point when you’re so scared you lock yourself in the bathroom while your s/o is raging outside the door, banging on it and threatening you. you manage to call simon and ask him to come get you. the result is, well, blood that is not his. 👁️👁️

- 🐇

JUSTICE (Ghost x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; HUGE warning for abuse and reactions to abuse (I had to take a break writing a part of this), murder, blood + gore + injury, major hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic.]

BEING ON LEAVE means Simon needs to restock his fridge and cabinets with enough food for a couple of days. Leaning against the bar of the shopping cart as he turns over the box of tea in his hands. He grumbles since he’s having to buy a new brand of his favorite tea, figuring out that his favorite company discontinued that line. Simon lets out a huff of defeat before tossing the box into the cart and he begins to roll his cart to the self check-out.

Simon bags his items up into his reusable bags and hauls them out to his car, putting a bag down to dig around for his keys. He finds them and unlocks the back, putting his bags in—and then his phone begins to ring. His eyebrows furrow a bit as he takes his cell phone out of his pocket, his eyebrows raising as he shuts the back. Simon swipes at his screen, accepting the call and pressing the phone to his ear as he gets into the driver's seat of his vehicle. “Hello?” Simon asks into the phone, a bit confused on why you’re calling him.

His heart nearly drops to his stomach when he hears you sob into the receiver, a muffled static banging in the background and some unintelligible yelling. “Simon—“ Your tone is laced with intense fear and alertness, and he can immediately tell you’re in a state of a need to survive. He calls your name, not even bothering to buckle up, starting his car.

Simon calls your name more insistently, his tone bordering on panic. “What’s goin’ on, love??” His heart begins to pound as you sob a near incoherent “go away” to whoever is making you act like this. “Hey, hey hey—focus, sweetheart, what’s happening?” Simon insists, pulling out of the parking lot, already decidedly going to your place of residence.

You shudder and sob into the phone and clear your throat. “Please, Simon, pleaseplease hElp me, he’s—“ You let out a heartbreaking sob that makes Simon’s chest ache, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel harder. “Derek, he’s fuckin’—he’s trying to—“ You’re barely able to push the words out, and fuck, Simon is so glad you’re not too far from the store he was just at.

“He’s tryin’ t’hurt you, love?” Simon asks—it’s so obvious your partner is, but he needs to double check; have you confirm it. “Yes—he’s trying to break dOwn the door—leave me alONE—!” You scream, piercing his ear through the phone. Simon lets out a huff, his heart pounding against his rib cage. “I’m on my way, alright? I’m nearly there, I won’t let ‘im hurt ya, love.”

Simon is definitely going over the speed limit, weaving through traffic and his tires screeching in protest at his movements. You choke and cough, letting out a terrified weeping noise, barely able to breathe. A painful itch blooms underneath his skin, the sensation burning and bubbling, bursting at the seams. Simon was not allowed anyone’s blood to spill except his. Derek’s.

“Breathe, alright? I’m on your street—do ya have anythin’ in the restroom to protect yourself with?” Simon asks, hearing you whimper as the muffled sounds of Derek’s maniacal screaming and pounding is apparent. “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re scared, I know, but you’ve got to stay with me.” Simon insists, and you make a timid “mhm” noise. There’s a shuffling sound, and he’s assuming you’re looking through your cabinets. Simon soon rolls up to your home, and he barely puts the car in park, not even bothering to turn the vehicle off.

“I’m here, darlin’. I’m here. Stay as far away from the door as possible.” And with that, he hangs up. You stutter out his name in fear, but you quickly hear your partner—soon to be ex—Derek redirects his anger from you to Simon, who you hear bellow out Derek’s name. Something about Simon’s tone is.. eerie. Something about how Derek begins to yell and gasp and fucking scream is satisfying.

You cover your ears, curled up in the corner of your bathroom, heaving and sobbing as your head is swimming. You’re dizzy from the lack of sufficient air entering your lungs. You aren’t sure how much time passes, but when you hear a gentle, muffled knock, you hold your breath. Simon calls your name from behind the door, causing you to scramble to your feet.

You sob softly and shakily unlock the door and you freeze at the sight of him—there’s blood splattered across his face, dripping down his neck, caking his hair and his clothes. You nearly scream but Simon quickly holds his hands up, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, it’s not my blood. I’m alright, love.” The relief that floods you is crashing like waves, just like how you collapse into his arms.

Simon cringes just a bit, Derek’s blood smearing against you and staining your clothes, but your desperate sobs and grabby hands make him forget about the mess. Simon quickly wraps his arms around you and leads you deeper into the bathroom, making sure you don’t see the mangled and unrecognizable body of your ex-boyfriend laying in the hallway, in a puddle of his own blood, organs, and excrement.

2K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 6 months

Text

The Arrangement (5) - Confrontation

Summary: Living under the same roof as Astarion was proving to me more of a challenge than you had anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Nightmare. Hurt/Comfort. Innuendo. Heavy use of sarcasm hahaha.

Word count: 4.4k

Previous chapter. Ao3. Series Masterlist

If anyone had suggested a few days ago that you'd find yourself living under the same roof as Astarion, you would have called them delusional and point them to the nearest infirmary for a mental check.

But the wheels of fate turned in mysterious ways, and a mere glance at the man sitting across from you was proof enough of that.

The flames swirling and crisping in the nearby fireplace cast the most delicate yellow and orange tint on his pale complexion as he flipped the pages of a book you had lent him.

You had tried to focus on your own reading, but you just couldn't help but to occasionally shift your gaze to him.

Gods… it was nigh criminal how handsome this man was.

It was as if he had been hand-carved by someone intended on wreaking havoc in the name of beauty.

And, as far as you were concerned, they had thoroughly succeeded.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and he met your gaze dead-on, unblinkingly.

So handsome…

A cold shiver ran up the back of your neck, but you found herself unable to look away. It was as if, in that moment, you had managed to block out everything around you but him. The longer you stared at him, the more acutely you felt detached from reality.

“May I kiss you?”

You blinked a few times. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised in sheer perplexity.

“No need to look so offended, darling,” he said with a scoff, rising from his seat and snatching the candle holder from the table to your right. “I was merely asking for this. I apologise if the request is out of the realm of your ‘one hundred good deeds I must perform before I perish’ list.”

You blinked again.

What?

You glanced around, but judging from the lack of reaction from both Gale and Shadowheart, you figured that maybe he hadn't actually asked to kiss you.

Great. Now I'm hallucinating…

He returned to his padded chair with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I've seen more light in the deepest corners of the Shadowlands.”

Maybe sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll on you, rendering you delirious.

Regardless, the illusion had been enough to flare your heart, and you hurriedly focused your attention on the book in your hands.

“I had quite forgotten how peacefully silent it can be without having you around, Astarion.” Shadowheart spoke as she tended to a few rolls of parchment and letters.

“Well, you can thank Wyll for that.”

She ignored him. “All you do is complain.”

You felt a storm brewing on the horizon as you lifted your eyes to glance at him.

Astarion let out a cynical laugh. “You're one to speak.”

Shadowheart was now scowling. Deeply.

“Besides, that is a rather disingenuous accusation. Want proof?” he asked, clearing his throat. “So, Gale - what are you reading that has you scribbling about like a mad man?”

The wizard snapped out of his nose-deep dive and brought his quill to a halt with a beaming smile. “Glad you ask, my friend. ‘A Visual Guide to Baldur's Gate's Exquisite Cuisine’. First edition. Hand-signed by the finest chefs in the city. What a marvel, indeed.”

As expected, Astarion looked as unimpressed as ever, but you interjected before he could mouth anything obtuse.

“That sounds rather exciting, Gale.”

He nodded eagerly. “A small guilty pleasure of mine, I must say. I'm taking down some notes, so that I can - hopefully - prepare some delectable dishes for us.”

Shadowheart's eyes remained fixed on Astarion as if awaiting for him to burst at any moment.

He exchanged a quick glance with you before muttering, “Unbelievable.”

“I think it's to be commended that he cares enough to try,” you said sweetly, earning a scornful glare from him. “I can't wait for you to showcase your abilities, Gale.”

“My sentiments exactly, dear friend.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “‘Abilities’ as in setting the kitchen ablaze, or…”

You shot him a death glare.

He shrugged. “You two are a match made in the hells.”

This had you snap your book closed with a loud thud, eyeing him defiantly. “So what constitutes an engaging reading to you, Astarion? Murderous ploys?”

His lips curled into a devious smile. “Something along those lines. Although I do enjoy indulging in some debauchery from time to time.”

You weren't sure Gale would set the kitchen ablaze with his cooking skills, but Astarion's blunt and crass words sure did that to your cheeks.

Shadowheart scoffed.

“There are some interesting books in my collection,” he continued, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. “I will gladly lend you some… or maybe offer a guided tour through my favourite pieces?”

You needed to change the subject.

Fast.

You were most definitely fighting a losing battle.

This was Astarion's playground, and he would always come out victorious.

“Must you always resort to such vulgarity?” Shadowheart sneered, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I'm afraid the city is fresh out of those who know how to properly enjoy themselves, and we can't all be dullards, darling.”

You cleared your throat. “So, Gale… you're leaving for Waterdeep soon enough.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. If all goes well, we shall have access to the Wish spell soon enough, my vampling friend.”

Astarion crossed his arms. “Finally some progress.”

“Maybe you should be more thankful.” You said with a frown.

“As should you,” he shot back. “No more need to offer your blood to me.”

Fair enough.

“Much to your disappointment, I imagine.” Shadowheart chimed in.

But before he could retort, you heard a rising commotion outside that only came to a halt as the front door burst open.

Lae'zel came through, carrying what appeared to be a very much deceased wild boar across her shoulders as if it was nothing more than a sack of feathers.

She kicked the door shut at once, nostrils flaring. “Tsk'va! What are those two doing outside?”

“House arrest.” Astarion informed.

Bringing the carcass to the kitchen table, Lae'zel locked eyes with you, visibly annoyed.

“I had plans to rescue you from that prison. And I would have had it my way had it not been for Gale and his… morals.”

Gale bolted from his seat, suddenly looking rather distressed. “Lae'zel, we've spoken about this before and agreed not to bring bleeding carcasses into our home.”

She glared at him. “You alone agreed to it - I had no part in it.”

He gave her an exasperated look, picking up a piece of cloth to wipe away the strands of blood that had begun to run along the wooden surface.

“If this falls on the carpet, it will be a nightmare to remove the stains.”

Astarion tutted. “Darling, that carpet is so hideous that being splattered with carrion blood would be a vast improvement.”

You rose to your feet, rushing to join Lae's zel, who quickly placed her hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Your lips tugged into a genuine smile.

To her, this was the equivalent of ‘I am glad you're safe and I care for you’ and it warmed your heart beyond measure.

Naturally, Astarion quickly joined your side, earning Lae'zel's disdainful gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it was a two-for-one type of deal, wasn't it?” Astarion mocked, turning to you. “Free one criminal and get two on house arrest.”

Unfortunately for Astarion, Lae'zel had little patience to entertain his sarcastic remarks and merely scoffed.

“I would have easily rescued from that prison, you know?” She gave your shoulder another squeeze and you nodded. “Those frail guards are no match for a githyanki.”

“On that much we can agree.” He mused.

She gave him a stern look. “I would have left you there.”

“We fought a giant brain, a scheming squid, and a whole parade of lunatics side by side, in case you've forgotten, my dear nest of vipers friend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you ought to show more gratitude.”

You expected her to snap at him, but she merely pressed her lips and gave him a nod.

That would be as far as she'd go, though.

“Well, as much as I enjoy this ‘family’ reunion, I'm off to my room,” Shadowheart said from a distance, already heading towards the staircase. “Please do not maim each other in my absence - there's only so much healing I can provide.”

You chuckled and she smiled warmly at you.

“Say, Lae'zel…” Astarion started, circling the boar with utmost interest. “I would hate for perfectly adequate blood to go to waste.”

The implication in his words wasn't subtle at all, and she groaned. “I thought you feeding on our friend was enough.”

Your stomach lurched violently.

He scoffed. “There is no such thing as ‘enough’ blood for a vampire. Besides, she's the main course… this would be more of an aperitif, if you will.”

Now, you felt positively sick to your core.

A wave of nausea and repulsion gripped you tight.

“It would be a mutually beneficial situation - I save Gale from a mental breakdown, sparing you tue ordeal, and I also get to quench my hunger.”

Gale grumbled something in agreement.

But you felt the sudden wish to be swallowed whole by some magical hole in the ground.

The way he referred to you as nothing more than food prompted a visceral reaction from you, and you feared you might empty the contents of your stomach from it alone.

“Um… I'll go get some sleep… I'm too tired,” you said dismissively, already pacing towards the corridor that led to your room. “Have a good night.”

Astarion called after you, but you didn't bother looking back.

But before you could turn the doorknob, you heard light steps approaching and firm fingers gripping your forearm.

Astarion.

His face was void of any amusement. “You're upset.”

You pulled free from his grasp. “A neat observation. No wonder you're such a skilled rogue.”

His brows furrowed lightly. “What's the matter?”

“It seems that I'm only worthy of your attention when it comes to you treating me as nothing but a meal, to hurl your sarcastic remarks at. Oh - and unless I'm on the verge of death,” you said, counting on each finger.

He seemed quite taken aback, his features twisting into a scowl. “You really adore selling yourself short, don't you?”

“You won't even deny it.”

“Then what sort of attention do you want from me?” He asked, taking a step closer, the sudden proximity catching you off-guard. “Do enlighten me.”

You glared at him in silence for a moment, vaguely wondering how the two of you had gotten to this point in your relationship, where everything seemed so… off.

Astarion was standing in front of you, but it wasn't truly him.

He was there, but not really.

He seemed so detached from the Astarion you had fallen for, and a part of you loathed that you had allowed yourself to get so attached to him in the first place.

Eventually, you heaved a deep sigh as he awaited your reply. “The sort of attention I don't have to beg for.”

His face softened briefly and he parted his lips only to press them close together again as if he had decided against speaking.

Right.

You swallowed hard. “Have a good night.”

The hopeful part of you half-expected him to stop you from walking away as you closed the door behind you, but he did no such thing.

You pressed your back against it, taking a deep breath, feeling as if you had just lost something.

Had you been too dramatic?

Did it even matter at this point?

Maybe it was better off this way.

You moved to scrub your face clean in the washbasin, preparing yourself to get some rest before the morning came.

Whatever was of your relationship with Astarion would have to wait for you to be able to think more clearer.

Slipping into your nightdress, you allowed yourself to fall on your bed and onto your stomach with a muffled thud, wanting to do nothing more than to scream into the covers, but remained still instead.

After what felt like hours of restlessly rolling beneath the sheets, you felt your mind lighten and were able to find solace in the peace and quiet.

That was until you heard a distant voice.

A woman's voice.

Her voice.

“Go on. Bleed her dry for me…”

You felt the mattress dip slightly and your eyes snapped open only to find Astarion baring his fangs.

And then he was on you, pinning you frozen with both hands.

“No - stop! Get off!”

He didn't hold back and you felt a familiar sting tear through your neck, his cold lips sprawling across your skin.

“She's so pathetic. Just kill her. Put her out of her misery.”

“Get off!” You cried out, feeling his weight pinning you down.

He didn't waver and you felt your blood being drained from you alarmingly fast as you tried your best to yank free from his vicious grip.

You were going to die.

He was going to kill you.

“Stop! Please - Astarion!”

Something was squeezing your shoulder and you tried to squirm away from the increasing pressure.

You felt him chuckle in amusement against your skin and that was what killed you first.

“ASTARION!”

The grip on you kept on increasing and you realised someone was shaking you.

“Wake up.”

How was he speaking whilst fiercely feeding on you?

Were you already dead?

Your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs and you felt like breathing was no longer an option.

“Wake up!”

The shove against your shoulder was too fierce this time, and you jolted violently, feeling the pressure on top of you only faintly ease.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You tried to conjure a spell - any spell - that might help you set yourself free.

He called out your name and your eyes snapped open at once, only to see Astarion hovering over you, hand now pressed firmly against your lips, muffling your sobs.

Bergamot.

Rosemary.

Aged brandy.

It was him.

He was there.

The nightmare faded with each passing second, and, for the longest time, all you could hear were your laboured breaths as you struggled to step into reality.

Your eyes were blurred from the tears welling up, and you watched his lips part to utter something, but the pounding in your ears prevented you from understanding a single word.

He eventually dropped the hand from your mouth, staring at you with an understanding look on his face.

“You're safe."

For a split second, you wondered if this was truly your Astarion, and once you asserted that it was truly him sitting beside you, you pushed yourself from the mattress, looping your arms around his neck.

He took you in his arms, gently pressing his lips to your temple.

“You're safe. I'm here and I've got you."

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as you pressed your face to his shoulder, seeking any sliver of comfort he could spare you.

The door to your room burst open.

“What happened? What did you do?”

Shadowheart's accusatory tone ground on your already fragile nerves.

“She was having a nightmare.”

His cool hand came to the back of your head, further pressing you into him.

“Oh. Another one…”

You felt your heartbeat soothe and your breathing gradually even out.

But his embrace felt too much like coming home for you to part from him, so you didn't, allowing him to rock you gently in his arms.

“It's become more frequent as of late.” She said with a hint of sadness to her voice.

Astarion kept his lips pressed to your temple, grounding you.

You eventually pulled back from him with a loud sniffle. “I'm fine. I am sorry I worried you…”

Shadowheart approached you, kindness on her face. “Nonsense. I am here for you - we are here for you,” she added, glancing at Astarion. “Always.”

“I'll just try to get some rest… you two may go…” you stammered in between a few sobs.

Shadowheart didn't move and neither did Astarion.

You rubbed your puffy and wet eyes. “I mean it. It will be fine.”

“Very well,” Shadowheart drawled out reluctantly. “But please let me know if there is anything I can help with.”

You gave her a reassuring nod paired with a comforting smile.

She returned the gesture and excused herself, clicking the door shut behind her.

Your gaze shifted to him. “You can leave, too.”?

He scoffed. “No.”

“What?”

“You'll have to stake me.”

You were utterly confused by his perseverance.

“I am fine, Astarion. I am thankful for your help, but… you don't have to stay.”

He nodded. “I don't have to, but I want to.”

Your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

And then your eyes fell to his shoulder.

“Oh, my…” you winced at the sight of the soppy fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry for that…”

He looked confused at first, but followed your line of sight and smiled. “Was this an excuse to get me out of my shirt?”

His playful jab immediately had you chuckle, rolling your eyes at him.

“Not to mention that I've been covered in all sorts of your bodily fluids,” he went on, earning a surprised glare from you. “This might be my…” he paused brielfy, as if evaluating his options. “Ah - my third favourite, yes.”

You should have known better than to take the evident glare, but you could really use the distraction.

“What are the first two, then?”

You hadn't even realised your nightdress had come undone at the front until he reached out to pull back the sleeve that had slid down your arm.

Glancing down, you couldn't help the rush of heat on your cheeks as your breasts were barely covered at all.

“Blood, naturally,” he said in a low voice, tying each set of strings with unmatched dexterity, keeping your modesty preserved. “And your-”

But before he could reply, you quickly pressed your forefinger to his lips, eyes widening as you felt him smile under your touch and pressing a soft kiss.

You felt as though you might implode.

His hands moved up your chest, tying up the last knots.

“There - all neatly wrapped up like a nice little gift.” He said, amusement coating his words.

He was too good at getting under your skin.

More than you were willing to admit, especially out loud.

“Thank you for making me laugh.” You said truthfully, pushing aside how he had so easily made you feel all heated up.

“I aim to please.”

His words hit you like a thousand knives.

“You're more than that…” You said, wanting to reassure him that he didn't need to resort to honeyed words and calculated moves to create a meaningful connection with someone.

But your statement had the opposite effect, and he frowned slightly.

“Don't. Do not start…”

You swallowed and nodded in understanding. “I didn't mean to offend.”

He shook his head, adjusting the fabric of your nightdress over your shoulders. “You didn't. I merely do not wish to make this about me.”

You were slightly taken aback.

“I know all too well the burden of nightmares,” he explained. “Even if elves don't indulge in conventional sleep, we are still prone to nightmares when we trance.”

Oh.

“And I would hate for you to be plagued like that.”

You lowered your gaze, feeling extremely exposed all of a sudden.

“So tell me, darling, when did these start?” He asked, shifting closer to you. “And why were you screaming my name?”

You felt a lump swell in your throat.

He placed his finger under your chin, and pressed upwards until your eyes met his.

“What haunts you?”

You.

“Can we just… not…” You asked, already feeling tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

Reason told you that a heartfelt conversation with Astarion was long overdue, but you didn't feel ready.

You still felt too startled and too vulnerable.

He had hurt you in more ways than one, even if unconsciously done at times.

“We don't have to talk about it.”

You nodded, a few tears rolling down. “Thank you.”

“We can push all of that aside, even if just for tonight.”

Your heart hammered fast inside you.

He then cradled your face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips to each cheek, kissing your tears away.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he trailed down, inching closer to your lips.

A shudder coursed throughout your entire body, barely able to contain the anticipation.

Please kiss me…

His thumbs rubbed slow circles on your flushed cheeks and your lips parted as his ghosted yours.

Astarion…

Almost there.

You could almost taste him.

Your hands came to grip his wrists tightly, silently urging him to take you.

Please… please…

As your heart thudded faster and faster, you gasped when he quickly kissed the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your forehead.

You couldn't deny the overwhelming wave of disappointment that washed over you, even if, deep down, you realised it was probably the best course of action, considering how vulnerable you still felt from the nightmare.

A few more tears spilled over, which he quickly brushed away before pulling back.

“I can stay until you fall asleep.”

Your heart dropped.

Everything was conditional with him.

It was always meant to come to an end, eventually.

He would stay with you… but only until you drifted off to another nightmare, perhaps.

It was as if he couldn't simply stay with you.

You shook your head with a sniffle, letting go of him. “No. You can go… but thank you for this.”

“I can stay.”

“... until I fall asleep.” You finished his sentence.

He nodded, eyes locking with yours. “Or for as long as you need me.”

You felt ridiculous from the way your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Will you hug me?”

He shifted back against the headboard and sprawled his arms out to you with a sly grin. “Come here, darling.”

For a brief moment, you saw your Astarion again.

Open and caring.

You scooted over to rest your body against his, smiling softly as he placed his arm around you, trailing absent-minded caresses along your arm.

His coldness felt comfortable even in the dead of night, and you wrapped your arm around his torso, enjoying the silence.

“Am I too cold?”

You're perfect.

You shook your head vehemently.

But he still reached out to grab the blanket at your feet, draping over your frame.

“You are shivering, you fool.” He whispered and you could hear the smile in his remark.

You snuggled up against him, wishing you could freeze this moment in time.

Slowly but surely, and lulled by his caresses, you felt exhaustion take over, your eyelids feeling progressively heavier.

Maybe this was all a dream.

Maybe you'd wake up only to find that this had never happened.

That you hadn't felt your Astarion once again.

His chin was resting atop your head and your heart skipped yet another beat.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to us…”

The hand on your arm stilled for a moment and he hushed you. “Just rest.”

Your eyelids did feel heavy, and you could recognise your own brain fighting away your sleep, but you still wanted to know.

You needed to know what had gone so terribly wrong.

Especially when the man holding you in his arms had just provided immeasurable comfort.

“I miss you… us…” You heard yourself mumble under your breath.

He did utter something unintelligible, but you were far too exhausted to ask for a repeat.

Your warm body slumped against his cold one as he lulled you into sleep with the rhythmic caresses on your back.

It seemed that this time, your nightmare had started and ended with him.

Morning came and he was gone.

Of course he was.

Even with your windows barred from the sun, he had still chosen to leave.

He had tucked you under the bedsheets and warm blankets.

You had nearly forgotten what a good night of sleep was ever since the nightmares had taken root in your mind.

His scent lingered all around you and it was impossible to escape it.

You eventually pushed yourself up to sit in silence, going over the events of a couple of hours ago.

Why did he always leave in the end?

Why couldn't you just bring yourself to move on from him?

You could have taken the time to open up to him about how you felt, but you were so afraid to push him away.

He had his own vulnerabilities and he didn't need yours weighing him down, too.

You lazily scrambled out of bed, slipping into your robe, ready for a new day.

As you made your way down the corridor, you began to hear heated voices coming from the kitchen.

“Must we all live in darkness because of you?”

You found Astarion sitting by the table, seemingly unbothered by Lae'zel's snarky remarks, the room plunged in darkness, keeping the scorching sun at bay.

“Oh please, feel free to address your complaints to the Grand Duke.”

Gale saw you first and offered a warm smile. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

You hugged yourself, forcing a smile. “I am well, thank you.”

Astarion turned his head to you, annoyance giving way to a sliver of concern. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

You nodded, your heart immediately reacting to his presence.

“Shall I brew some chamomile tea?” Gale offered eagerly, moving about the kitchen to gather the supplies.

“Thank you,” you said, glancing around. “Where is Shadowheart?”

“She headed out to the apothecary,” Gale said, placing the kettle by the fireplace. “She's keen on helping you out with these nightmares.”

Guilt hit you.

Of course she had.

Shadowheart had held your hand through so many perils, yet you couldn't help but to feel guilty that she was searching for help when the solution to your problem was right in front of you.

And he kept glaring at you, as if studying your every move.

A soft knock on the front door snapped you from your thoughts, and you went to push it open, revealing the visitor.

No.

No fucking way.

You immediately slammed the door shut, feeling rage swirl inside you.

“Who is it?” Gale asked.

“No one.”

Then your gaze met Astarion's whose eyebrow was arched in confusion.

“That is no way to treat a guest.” The woman outside chirped happily.

Ava.

Next chapter: Broken - November 26

Series Masterlist . I don't keep taglists, so feel to follow this story on Ao3 🩷

#astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion scenario #astarion x you #astarion x reader

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greatooglymooglyyy · 3 months

Text

Driver's License (Matt Sturniolo)

request:

a/n: anon i love you so much, both of your ideas were so good. i hope you love this. i cut off the second part to gatekeep it till it comes out 💕 also ik in the song, it is the boys fault but i've done a few of those so I wanted this one to be on the reader.

contains: angst, fluff, breakup to makeup, abandonment issues, happy ending, kissing, cussing, 1.3k words

Three Months Ago:

“Okay, whoa. Don’t hit the break that hard. Ease on to it.” Matt says quickly, leaning forward a bit. I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I barely pressed it, Matt.” I continue circling the parking lot slowly since he refuses to let me go over 5 miles per hour.

When a car enters the parking lot near me, I tense up but Matt jumps in. “You got it. You’re fine. They’re just gonna pass you.” He says, calmly, his hand resting near the steering wheel, just in case he needs to grab it. The car passes me and I relax, smiling over at Matt. “See.” He says, giving me a small smile back but then gesturing back out the window. “Look at the road, babe. Not me.” I snap my eyes away and focus back in.

“Pull into this one right here.” He gestures at a spot a couple of feet away and I turn into it, barely in the lines, and put the car in park. I wince and glance over at him, expecting him to talk shit, but he just smiles. “Not bad, baby. You wanna try to get on the street?” My eyes widen and he laughs and takes off his seatbelt.

“It’s okay. Next time.” He leans over and presses two kisses to my lips before opening his door so we can trade back. He comes around the car and opens the driver’s door, leaning in. “You’re gonna be coming through to pick me up in a second. Just wait.”

*********

I look down at the floor of the DMV and shake my head, trying and failing to push down my thoughts of Matt. Today is probably the hardest day without him I've had since we first broke up two months ago. Two months since I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and didn’t even have the strength to try and fix it. Every time I think about the look in Matt’s eyes when I told him we were done, I want to crumble. So instead, I try not to think about it at all.

The attendant calls my name sharply and it snaps me out of my impending pity party. I quickly scramble over and take my license from her, muttering a quiet thank you. As I head back to my car, I can’t take my eyes off it. I always thought this moment would be so much bigger but it just feels empty now.

When I get in my car, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel for a second trying to clear my head. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to muster up something resembling self-respect before my heart wins out and I pull out my phone. This is a bad idea. I know it and repeat it to myself as I type Matt’s name into my Instagram search bar.

This has been a hard limit I set with myself, alongside not texting him or his brothers. I don’t stalk his Instagram like some psycho ex. Except apparently, I do today. And god, he looks good. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, the ends curling up slightly. In his most recent post, he’s got a slight smile as he looks up at the camera but it’s the glint of something around his neck that makes my breath hitch. I scroll to his next post and zoom in to confirm it’s what I think it is and my eyes begin to water. He’s still wearing the necklace I got him on our first Valentine’s Day.

I close my phone and pull down my sun visor, staring into the mirror. Does it mean he still loves me? Do I still have a chance? Or does he just really like that necklace? I shake my head and push the visor up, throwing the car into reverse. It doesn’t matter. If there’s even still a fraction of a chance, I have to try.

*********

This was a mistake. I’m an absolute freak. I’m a loser. Why would I drive to this man’s house like everything’s fine? I put my head in my hands and count to three trying to calm down. I’ve been sitting outside of the triplet’s house for two minutes trying to get my nerve back but with every passing second I feel stupider.

Okay, it’s fine. This is fine. Before I can talk myself out of it anymore, I get out of my car and march up to their door. I knock twice, deciding that if they don’t answer in ten seconds I can run back to my car and pretend this never happened. I get all the way to eight before Chris swings the door open. We stare at each other blankly for a couple of breaths before Chris turns and calls for Matt to come down. He turns back to me, hardening his eyes. But he must see something in my face that makes him take pity because he just sighs before leaning in and whispering a low, “Don’t fuck this up, kid.”

As soon as Matt starts down the stairs, Chris turns and rushes back up, tapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder when he passes him. When he sees me in the doorway, Matt freezes momentarily, recovering quickly and setting his jaw. I take an involuntary step backward at the icy look he gives me as he leans against the door frame.

“Can I help you?” He asks. His voice has way less steel than I expected but the question still guts me. It feels like I’m standing in front of a stranger and not the boy who used to hold me every night.

“I just-” I start, biting down on my bottom lip as I try not to cry. “I got my driver’s license today,” I say lamely. I cringe slightly and he furrows his brow in confusion.

“Okay?”

“I just wanted to tell you that, I guess.”

“Alright. Thanks for the headline.” He says sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” I say, turning to retreat.

“That’s what you’re sorry for?” He demands, clearly angry now. “You’re not sorry for leaving me out of nowhere? For never answering a single one of my messages? For breaking my fucking heart?”

I swallow thickly and nod, stepping closer. “Matt. I’m sorry for all of that. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I promise you that was never my intention. I was just scared.” He laughs bitterly at that and shakes his head.

“No. You don’t get to use that excuse. Everybody’s scared. I was scared. You don’t get to just run when shit gets real.” His voice cracks a bit at the end and he runs his hand over his face. I reach out tentatively and place my hand on his arm. He locks eyes with me at the touch but doesn’t immediately snatch away.

“I wish I could take it back. I wish every day that I had just talked to you. And I understand if you can’t forgive me for that, Matt. I don’t know if I would either. But, I promise if you can, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving that I’m all in.” His eyes search mine desperately for truth and I hold my breath waiting for his response.

“Tell me that you love me.” He says, quietly.

My heart jumps as fear floods my body. I’ve never said it out loud before. I exhale deeply, letting my eyes trail over his face. “I love you, Matt.” My voice is a little wobbly but I pour as much honesty as I can into those words, hoping he hears what he needs.

He nods, his serious demeanor still in place, and sticks out his pinky finger. I laugh wryly and lock our pinkies, sealing the promise.

Matt pulls me inside of the house and takes my face in his hands, kissing me so intensely that my body leans sideways. He pulls away, pressing another one to my lips quickly and then drawing me into his arms. I wrap myself around his waist, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted.

“I missed you so much.” Matt’s voice grates against my ear as he kisses behind it. I slip my hands under his shirt before I pull back to look at his face and grin.

“Enough to finally let me drive you on the interstate?” I say hopefully.

“Absolutely fucking not-”

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perlelune · 2 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

463 notes · View notes

yxngbxkkie · 4 months

Text

mechanic's shop

this airport look gives me such mechanic vibes that i had to write something on it 🤭 this is actually really fucking cute, and i hope you guys like it 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You're nervous. Extremely nervous. you park your vehicle in the mechanic shop's parking lot, eyeing the semi-large building. You've never been to the mechanics by yourself.

When you had car problems before, your boyfriend was kind enough to take it for you. Now that you're single, you have no choice but to take it yourself. You didn't know any friends who had car knowledge like your ex did.

A deep breath comes from your lips as you internally hype yourself up. “There's no one else here,” you talk to yourself, eyeing the empty parking lot. You shut your vehicle off before getting out, pressing the lock button.

You walk into the building, scrunching your nose at the dingy smell. You move to stand in front of the desk, tapping the bell they have sitting on the counter. You wait until someone shows up, slipping your hands into your front pockets.

“Can I help you?” A voice asks, snapping you from your internal thoughts.

You lift your head, your eyes meeting a pair of dark ones. “Hi,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Uhm, I'm sorry. I'm new to this, uh, do you think you'll be able to look at my car?”

The man in front of you giggles while adjusting the black beanie on his head. “I can do that, yeah. Do you know what's wrong with it?” He asks, walking around the desk.

You hiss and cross your arms across your chest while leading him to your vehicle. “I wish I knew what it exactly was,” you sigh. “I was driving it home last night, and the steering wheel started to shake. Like, a lot.”

“Hm, okay. When you were driving home,” he pauses, holding his hand out to take your car keys, “were you driving at a low or high speed?”

You hand him your keys, unlocking the vehicle for him first. “It was a low speed. I think I was going about forty,” you answer his question.

“Okay,” he nods, opening the driver's side door. “I'll bring it into the shop and take a look at it. Oh, my name is Chris, by the way.”

You smile at him, nodding your head as well. “Nice to meet you, Chris. Is it alright if I wait inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb in the direction of the building.

“Absolutely. There's water in there if you're thirsty,” he smiles before lowering himself into the seat.

“Thank you so much,” you bow your head, clapping your hands together.

You watch him drive your car into the shop before heading back into the waiting room of the building. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and take a seat in one of the chairs.

When checking your phone, you notice a text message from one of your friends.

From: Hyunie 🎨

Hey! What are you doing tonight?! Felix and I are going to a bar and want you to come with us! Please go 🥺

A chuckle leaves your lips at Hyunjin's desperation, shaking your head slightly while typing out a reply.

To: Hyunie 🎨

The only way I can go is if this mechanic job isn't costly 😭 Ya girl's car is fucked

You lift your head after sending the text, locking your phone right after. You watch Chris through the window in the shop, tapping your nails against the back of your case.

“Shit, he's really pretty,” you say to nobody, forcing yourself to look away from him.

The device in your hands vibrates, indicating that Hyunjin texted you back. You flip the phone over and open the notification, a louder laugh escaping your lips.

From: Hyunie 🎨

Girl, you need a new fucking vehicle I SWEAR 🙄 Felix and I will cover your tab! One of our friends is also coming, and I think the two of you would be so cute together 🫢

You groan, slapping your face with your hand. Another groan comes out not even a few seconds later. You thought he was done trying to set you up with people. You're dead wrong.

To: Hyunie 🎨

I thought we were done trying to set me up?? Hyun, remember what happened last time? 😭

From: Hyunie 🎨

I know! I know, but I PROMISE this time is different! He's a good friend of mine, and he's such a green flag

You tilt your head back, not knowing if you wanna put yourself through this again. The last time Hyunjin set you up with someone, you got stood up. Then, when you went to confront the guy, he insulted you.

To: Hyunie 🎨

If I don't like him in the first hour, I'm leaving 😤

From: Hyunie 🎨

DEAL, OH MY GOD! OKAY! Text me later if you end up needing a ride! Love you! 🥰

Another laugh escapes your lips after reading Hyunjin's text. “What a crackhead,” you giggle, pushing yourself up from the chair and moving closer to the window.

You slip your phone back into your pocket before crossing your arms over your chest as you watch Chris inspect your vehicle. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze through the glass pane.

You provide a shy smile, and he returns it, wiping his hands with a rag that was tucked in his back pocket. He walks over to the door that separates the two rooms, opening it before leaning against the frame.

“Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” He asks with a smile, motioning for you to follow him.

“Am I… Am I allowed in here?” You ask nervously, following the man into the shop.

Chris chuckles and waves his hand. “I own the shop, so, yes,” he jokes with you, reassuring you that it was okay.

You mumble a quiet, “okay,” as you stop just before your car. Chris continues moving to stand underneath it. “I'll take the bad news first.”

“Bad news,” he pauses, grabbing the clipboard that's hanging from one of the metal poles. “I'm going to have to keep your car overnight.”

Of course, that'd be the bad news. You think to yourself and release a light sigh. “And the good news?” You question, clasping your hands together.

“Thankfully, your suspension is fine. The cause of the vibrations is because your tires are unbalanced,” Chris explains, causing you to blink at him in confusion.

“I–” you cut yourself off, not knowing what the hell this attractive man is talking about.

Chris chuckles and walks back over to you. He rubs your shoulder gently and goes over it again in terms you understand. “It won't cost very much either if you're worried about that,” he mentions, writing on the paper attached to the clipboard. “The reason you won't get your vehicle back until tomorrow is because my tire guy isn't here today. He comes in at eight tomorrow morning, and I'll have him work on your vehicle so I can get it back to you as quickly as possible.”

“I appreciate it,” you whisper, relieved that it won't cost you an arm and a leg.

“If you want to put your number on here,” he hands you the clipboard, pointing at the box where your number is needed, “I can call when it's all fixed.”

You nod your head, taking it from his hands. After jotting down your phone number, you hand the clipboard back to him. Chris thanks you before leading you back out into the waiting area.

“Do you have someone to call for a ride? I go on my lunch in a few minutes if you need to get home,” he offers, writing your information in the books.

“I can call someone,” you assure him, smiling. You pull out your phone again, clicking on Hyunjin's contact. “I thank you again for this. If you haven't noticed… I've never done this before.”

He chuckles while shaking his head. “It's okay! I'm glad that I was able to help you,” Chris mentions, leaning against the desk.

You bow again before leaving the shop. You call Hyunjin's phone, pressing the device against your ear.

“Hey, Y/N, what's up?” His voice comes through the receiver.

“I need a ride,” you pout, releasing a giggle afterward.

Hyunjin laughs as well, hearing Jisung in the background. “Okay! I'm gonna send Hanji because I need to finish this. That's okay?” He asks.

“That's fine. I'm at,” you pause, glancing towards the sign. “Five-Star Auto.”

“Oh, okay! I'll let Jisung know. He's putting his shoes on,” he mentions, hearing him tell Jisung where you are. “He's on his way! I'll pick you up tonight at six, okay?!”

You laugh and agree before the two of you bid each other goodbye.

You're running around your apartment, trying to finish getting ready before Hyunjin arrives with Felix. You're nervous to find out the person Hyunjin's setting you up with. All you hope is that he's nicer than the last guy.

Your phone goes off, quickly checking it to see a message from Felix. Shit, they're here. You send a text, telling them that you'll be down in a minute.

After checking yourself in the mirror for the fifth time, you slip on some shoes before heading to the lobby of your apartment building. You speed walk out the main doors, finding Hyunjin's car immediately.

You slip into the backseat, greeting the two men sitting up front. “Thanks again for picking me up,” you chuckle, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

Felix turns in his seat, smiling at you as Hyunjin pulls back on the road. “We're super excited that you're coming out. It feels like we haven't hung out in forever,” he laughs, his gaze going from you to Hyunjin.

“That's because it's been like a month,” Hyunjin groans, glancing at you through the rear view mirror.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, combing your fingers through your hair. “I took the breakup pretty hard.”

Felix hums, nodding his head. “He was a dickhead. You didn't deserve any of that,” he sympathizes with you.

“It's okay,” you reassure the blonde, placing a hand onto his shoulder. “I've realized my worth, and he's not worth my tears.”

Hyunjin reaches behind you, patting your bare leg. “I'm so proud of you!”

The drive to the bar doesn't take very long. Twenty minutes max. The three of you walk into the dimly lit place together, keeping your hand on Hyunjin as you work your way through the crowd.

“The person I want to set you up with is already here,” Hyunjin almost screams, making sure you hear him over the music and patrons.

You feel yourself getting nervous as you look around. When Felix finally finds the table your mystery date is sitting at, you peek over Hyunjin's shoulder to get a good look at him. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as you find yourself looking at a familiar face.

Chris. You move to stand beside Hyunjin, showing yourself to him, and you watch his eyes widen. You shyly smile, waving your hand cutely.

“Hi, Chris,” you giggle, feeling the tips of your ears grow warm.

Both Hyunjin and Felix's jaw drops, their eyes dancing between you and Chris. “Wait, you know each other?!” Hyunjin asks, wiggling his index finger.

Chris moves over, patting the spot beside him for you to sit. You sit down in the booth, resting your arms on the table. “We just met today, actually. She brought her car to the shop,” he explains as the duo sits across from you two.

“I figured you would've put two and two together when I told you I needed to be picked up from there,” you laugh.

Felix slaps Hyunjin's arm, a playful scoff coming from his lips. “You pabo,” he laughs as well, standing back up from his seat. “First rounds on us!”

The two leave you and Chris alone, disappearing into the crowd. Silence fills the space around you, fumbling with your fingers.

“You look really pretty,” he compliments you, his eyes trailing down your body.

You blush at his words, dipping your head down. “Thank you,” you say loud enough, leaning into him slightly. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

Chris giggles, becoming a blushing mess as well. Another moment a silence happens, and you kick yourself that you can't find anything to talk about.

“I'm sorry I'm a little awkward,” you tell him, turning your head to look at him.

He shakes his head, and he smiles softly at you. “It's okay. I can be a little awkward too,” he says, meeting your gaze. “I haven't been on a date in over a year, so I'm a bit rusty.”

“A year?” You ask in disbelief. How has this gorgeous man been single for over a year? You think to yourself, leaning your head against the palm of your hand. “You're such an attractive guy. I'm honestly shocked.”

Chris laughs some more, finding yourself giggling at how cute his laugh is. “You flatter me, really,” he says shyly, running his fingers along the column of his neck. “I work a lot, so I don't really have time for a relationship. Plus, the last person I dated kinda fucked me up a bit.”

You feel for him, being in a relatable situation yourself. “I get it,” you inform him, your lips formed in a tight smile. “I had something similar happen to me recently. Hyunjin's been consistent in trying to set me up, so I'll be happy again.”

“Am I the first one?” Chris asks, his hands slowly reaching out towards yours.

“Unfortunately, no,” you groan, flashbacks of the past two people you saw. “But, I will say that you're my favorite so far.”

He grins ear to ear, the tips of his fingers brushing yours. “Yeah? Then, I'm glad,” Chris giggles.

You allow him to play with your hand, getting butterflies as he drags his fingertips along your palm. “Has anyone told you just how adorable you are?” You sigh, feeling yourself falling for him already.

“A couple of people have,” he answers, his gaze steady on your conjoined hands.

“It honestly makes me want to kiss you,” you whisper to him, not sure if he heard you.

Chris’ breath hitches in his throat, slowly lifting his head to see your eyes on him. “I mean… I won't, uh, you can if you want,” he stammers over his words, his ears turning red.

You're surprised he's going with it. You didn't know if you're moving too fast, but he seemed to feel the same way you do. “I don't want to make things uncomfortab–,” you attempt to say when Chris cuts you off.

His lips find a place on the corner of your mouth, the words dying on your tongue. Your heart pounds against your chest while squeezing his hands. You blink a couple of times as Chris pulls back.

Your free hand moves to the nape of his neck, pulling him back in. Your lips connect with his, finding yourself scooting closer to him. Chris releases the old on your hand, resting it on your bare thigh.

The kiss only lasts for about thirty seconds, pants leaving your lips afterward. He rests his forehead on yours before giggling softly.

“Your lips are soft,” he whispers, stroking your thigh with his hand.

Someone clearing their throat causes the two of you to pull away from each other. You glance to your right, seeing Hyunjin and Felix standing at the end of the table. Hyunjin smirks at you while sliding your drink in front of you.

“I take it you like him,” he says with a laugh, wiggling his brows.

You press your lips together and glance back towards Chris. “You did good this time,” you giggle, leaning into his shoulder.

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

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chocochipsushi · 4 months

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𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲?

Happy 2K followers to me! Here's a short scenario I came up with in reference to this tiktok video I saw.

🌸Warning: SFW Biker!Toji but there is a one-liner that is a tad bit suggestive

🌸AU: Your dad tries to embarrass you in front of a hot biker but you still stay winning anyway

🌸Word count: 824

“Dad, please don’t!” you beg, just knowing what your father is going to do the moment he notices you getting distracted by the biker waiting for the red light to turn green.

Your dad smirks at you, not saying anything. As the both of you walk towards the pedestrian crossing, he clears his throat and spares no time to humiliate you. He puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, rudely. Then, he points in the biker’s direction. You can see the slight tilt of the black helmet as he watches you and your dad.

“My daughter thinks you’re hot!!!”

You slap a hand over your mouth in shock and disbelief that your dad would actually humiliate you like this. You are still gaping at the biker like an idiot when he leans back and flips his visor up. Your thumping heart races even more when you notice his dark eyes sliding up and down your body. Even from a distance, you can see his slit eyes crinkling.

“Can I get her number, Old Man?” the biker shouts back, though his voice is muffled by the helmet he is wearing.

And because your dad is an asshole, he shouts back, “No!!!”

“Oh my god, dad!” you cry, extremely embarrassed. You’re speed walking across the pedestrian crossing, wanting so much just to run off and hide, when you hear the engine or the motorbike start.

You turn, expecting to watch the bike zoom off. Instead, you see him driving to the side of the road where he kicks the stand of his two-wheel drive. He swings his leg over the seat and he is off the motorbike in a second. Your heart races when you notice him walking in your direction.

Surprised and anxious, you start jogging to the other end of the road. The moment you reach the pavement on the other side, you turn around, only to freeze when you see the biker just a few steps away from you. You could see his dark green eyes crinkling slightly.

“Need your number, doll,” he declares behind his helmet.

“Need?” you repeat mockingly, laughing a little.

He chuckles and hands you his phone. “Need,” he confirms.

Amused by his response, you reach for his phone. You glance back to see your dad rushing to your side of the road to catch up to the both of you. Quickly, you save your number and name, and pass the phone back to the man. He reads your name experimentally in a low voice, then looks up at you, as if to confirm that it is your name.

You nod, just as your dad reaches this side of the road. Embarrassed, you quickly shoo him away, “Okay, nice to meet you. Your bike is being ticketed!” You point at his motorcycle across the road.

The man chuckles in amusement. “Yeah, that’s not working on me.” He sees your father walking over from the corner of his eye and he hums. “But I’ll go. You be a good girl for your daddy,” he says huskily, knowing exactly what his words would do to you.

Heat shoots up your body and blood rushes to your cheeks. Just then, your father stands next to you and faces the biker, giving him a good, intimidating look. Unfazed, the man with the helmet takes off the headpiece in respect, hugs it under his arm, and holds a hand out to your dad.

“Toji Fushiguro, sir. Thanks for setting me up with your beautiful daughter,” he says.

You’re not quite sure what your dad responds to that because you’re staring at the handsome man with his black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his green eyes contrasting so beautifully against his dark features. You only snap out of it when the pedestrian light turns green again and Toji throws his thumb behind him in the direction of his bike.

“I’m gonna go fill up my tank to get ready to bring your daughter out to a nice place tonight, sir.” He glances at you with a cheeky glint in his eyes and a smirk. “If that’s okay with you,” he looks to your father now for permission, who shrugs.

“It’s her time to waste, not mine.”

Toji laughs and nods. As he takes a step back, he waves his phone at you and calls your name. “I’ll text you. Wear jeans!”

“Who said I’ll say yes to dinner with you?” you retort.

He is still backtracking even as he crosses the road. He shouts, “Of course you will! You think I’m hot!”

Feeling your ears get hot again, you can only stare at his vehicle and yell, “Your bike’s getting towed!”

The male grins. With a wiggle of his fingers, he turns on his heels, slides his helmet back on, and runs back to his undisturbed, perfectly parked bike.

You’re going to have to start thinking of what to wear tonight.

#toji fushiguro #toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x you #toji x oc #toji x y/n #biker!toji #sfw toji #sfw jjk

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myillicitaffair · 4 months

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Somethin’ Stupid | Charles Leclerc

Summary: while being interviewed by his former lover, bottled up feelings find their way out.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, lots of angst, some swearing, arguments.

Notes: this is the first time i’m ever posting anything on here, i hope you enjoy it xx

1.5k words.

Letting myself fall into his abrasive webs was surprisingly easy. His green orbs, pervasive and curious, piercing my soul.

We had our ups and downs, unbridled passion slowly dying with each tear shed, magnetic attraction burning my lungs.

We found ourselves in a hiatus, which found a way of prolonging itself further than I would have liked to. Perhaps he managed to keep himself occupied with his busy schedule; trainings, special dietary requirements, public relations… as for me, I rather hold my silence.

My routine was overflowed with his voice, with how much I missed his touch on my lower back, guiding me through the crowds, our hands intertwined in a tacit promise.

However, life demanded to continue with apparent normality. Dinner parties surrounded by friends, rounds of drinks avoiding alcohol… The last thing I needed was to degrade myself into a melancholic drunkenness.

Was he also having a hard time with the abysmal coldness on the other side of the bed or the loneliness of not having anyone to dilute your sorrow over morning coffee with?

My days had fallen into a sort of routine; waking up while missing him, showering while missing him, having breakfast while missing him… I think you get how thing are.

This particular morning, Silverstone was extraordinarily cloudy, the mist engulfing my view from the hotel room. How fitting!

Running away from my surreptitious misfortunes, I head downstairs, soaking up the competitive environment prior to every race. Emboldened as an agitated swarm, my colleges and me descended on the designated circuit.

Tedious security controls accompanied the anticipated fun, a hammer already pounding into my head at the thought of seeing him face to face once more.

Walking towards the space where the press was condensed, I check the days schedule for the last time. I am lucky enough to maintain friendly interactions with most drivers, so as to achieve fluid interviews, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The only reason I can find as to why that fateful name is written on my list of drivers to interview was that God and I clearly have some unresolved business… funny timing to make me pay the price though!

A lump gets stuck in my throat just by thinking about it, preventing regular air flow.

The countdown only stuns me, even though my duty doesn’t start until the last lap. The smell of burnt rubber, product of speeding wheels, fills my lungs while intoxicating my nostrils.

The continuous lights turn red with overwhelming precision as seconds go by, lightning up the faces hidden with baklavas and iconic helmets.

Unconsciously (or maybe not so much), my eyes crawl back to the speeding number “16” that, red and furious, slides around the circuit while attempting to memorize every bump and curve along the way.

Chasing the sequence with collective looks of astonishment, a collision comes rushing down, disabling Piastri and Norris by the arrogance that only clear disagreements gives you.

Without further issues, the race concludes with a podium conformed by both Red Bull Racing drivers, trailed by seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton.

As possessed by group madness, the journalists rush into the victors. Microphone in hand, cameras shadowing us, content hunger gushing from our pores.

Driven by a exacerbated sadness, I shift my focus from the winners to him, returning my gaze with clouded tear ducts, bottled up frustration visible in his features.

With a touch on my shoulder, I’m brought back to reality by a co-worker, who, with a subtle shift of her head signals my awaiting obligations.

I head towards my press conference, where I take a seat with my name on it, psyching myself up for what I’m sure will be the most awkward interview of my whole career.

Dressed in Ferrari clothing and constantly stalked by flashes, both pilots near the platform where I await. They settle into their designated spots, holding still until the cameraman says otherwise.

I steal one last glance at my premeditated questions and hide my true feelings behind a focused frown.

“Welcome dear viewers! We find ourselves in the eleventh race of the year, accompanied once more by our friends from Ferrari, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.”

I desperately try stabilizing the noticeable shake in my voice.

“Friend”- the Monegasque interrupts my monologue with a mocking remark.

The puzzled look his teammate throws in his direction doesn’t go unnoticed by the former, who insists on jointing his glistening irises with mine.

I decide to ignore the brief impasse in the speech, running away from his calculated sarcasm as I force the corners of my mouth into an attempted smile.

“so, Carlos… do you think driving behind two cars that crushed ruined your performance?”- I question, tripping over my words under Charles´s scrutiny.

“It´s safe to say it wasn’t an unexpected accident”- the Spaniard pronounces, doing his best at minimalizing the awkwardness- “for at least a couple of laps, Oscar and Lando were teasing each other, clearly trying to gain advantage over the other. They were lucky enough neither of them got hurt.”

I nod absent minded, vibrating due to the pounding against my ribcage.

“Charles, what can you tell us about your engineers’ strategy for this race?”- I swallow loudly, praying he can´t notice the mesmerizing effect he has on me.

“I guess you could say I’m not entirely satisfied with my team´s execution this season”- he confesses, minimizing the tingles of frustration running down his spine- “It would also be quite unfair dumping the blame on my team when my failure has more to do with me letting my emotions get the best of me.”

The tension is intercepted by a longing sigh I didn’t know I was withholding. The world seems to stop in its euphoria simply to hang in his every sentence.

“A broken heart is no joke… even less when you have to patiently wait for the piece they decide to donate you”- he reproaches without saying my name but making it perfectly clear that I was indeed the recipient of his raw address.

My anxious movements become motionless, forgetting the when and where, just to focus on the displeasure bubbling in my stomach.

“Guys, I really don´t think it’s appropriate to discuss this now”- intercepts the Madrilenian, proposing a ceasefire.

Mi hand goes up in the air before I can help it, shutting him up mercilessly.

“I wonder where I must´ve learned it…”- I reply, drowning in the unexpected harshness of my tone- “don´t forget who was the one to suggest this ´no strings attached´ bullshit between us.”

The drivers face shines with a scandalous blush in response to my bravado. Right here and there, I comprehend the dept of his anger, making its way through his collarbones, until it climbs up his cheeks.

“Just because I thought that’s what you wanted”- he spits out his resentful response.

From the corner of my vision, I perceive Carlos´s discomfort by reading his body language; the friction of wiping away the sweat stagnant on his hands, his shoulders pouring forward in a clumsy attempt of hiding from the cameras, his chair weakly shaking under the constant bouncing of his extremities.

Madness atrophies my reasoning, blinding me enough as to not have merci on his apprehension. I took this way too far, it would be useless to swallow my feelings.

“how in the world could you think our agreement benefitted me? Really, Charles, you couldn’t be any more stupid!”- I scream back, jumping up from my seat.

The swing of my feet gets ahead of my thoughts, allowing me to run away from the premature conflict before it blows up in the air.

Mi face heats up from the warmth of my own tears, that start rolling down my cheeks. With each involuntary spasm of my jaw, sobs escape my gasps for air. I don’t dare to slow down.

“Can you please just listen to me?”- a voice behind me shouts, trying to stand by my side.

I turn around to face his scrunched up brows.

“you have nothing else left to make up. You may convince somebody with the whole ´heartbreak boy´ façade you’ve got going on, but you have genuinely driven me mad”

“You and I both now that isn’t true! Have you ever wondered why I always seem to take a step back after every show of affection?”- he manages to freeze me to the core- “How come you never noticed my excessive efforts to stay away from you? I can’t even behave like a functional human being if I’m not feeling you, touching you, having you with me.”

In the middle of the paddock, with every pair of eyes set on us, events unfold the way I’ve been dreaming of, however I can´t even react.

“I know I´m not in a position to ask you anything, but please, strip me from the torment that uncertainty means… even if that means to completely destroy me”- he whispers with renewed fragility.

My smirk slowly becomes uncontrollable laughter, reducing me to unbridled chuckles. I shelter the vestiges of my giggling in between his arm, until It ceases in its intensity.

Without noticing, I search for his lips with my own, craving the heat they irradiate.

“I think you know perfectly well how my soul aches for you”- I manage to sneak in between kisses, stumbling across his smile, displayed in all its glory.

#charles leclerc #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #ferrari #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 fic #red bull f1 #red bull racing #imagine #argentina #Spotify

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kokoa-la · 10 months

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Prompt from @help-i-need-a-cool-username

Jason has once again snuck into Gotham University. Now, before any assumptions are made onto why the crime lord would break into a college, the reason is because he likes the library. That's it. The public library is trashed and small, barely taken care of, but Gotham U's? It's beautiful. Multiple floors, organized and in sections, taken care of, alphabetical order, it's magnificent. The chairs were a reason alone to sneak in, but the students here added an extra charm.

He had gone to the very back of the library on the second floor. This area was pretty well hidden and enclosed. He would come here to read without anyone questioning him, even hiding the books he wasn’t finished with yet to continue on later. Jason wasn’t expecting someone to be so close to his spot though. A few tables across stood a student, thin, tall, with pitch black hair, baggy cargo jeans, and a white t-shirt. The other hadn’t noticed him yet, so he remained quiet and just watched. He was in front of a large white board on wheels, seemingly taken from the rooms he saw down the hall.

“That doesn’t work, goddammit.”

On the white board was lines upon lines of equations- at least he thought they were equations, with most of them being letters and symbols rather than numbers. It made the vigilante’s brain hurt. The student - assumed STEM major - just kept mumbling to himself.

“Stupid physics, won’t allow interdimensional travel”

What? Jason may have been out of school since 15, but he knew no courses were asking for the answer to traveling between dimensions. It seemed the student had a habit of talking to himself when worked up or focused, possibly why he isolated himself from the rest of the library.

“If your parents could do it, why can’t you? Think Danny, think!”

That sentence wasn’t concerning at all, but at least Jason learned the boy’s name. Danny seemed to have a strange background, what did he mean by ‘if your parents could do it’? Had his parents managed to travel between dimensions? The other was chewing on the cap of the white board marker, his other hand resting on his hip as he swayed back and forth.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! The thing! That thingy!”

Jason could practically see the lightbulb go on above Danny’s head. Just then the other erased a solid portion of the whiteboard and dropped to his knees, ouch. He started frantically scribbling, fast and messy, barely cohesive. Though, Jason was sure that if it was Tim sitting where he was instead, the boy could probably understand everything on that board. He’d stick to English literature, thank you very much.

“That’s it! Oh my ancients! I got it!”

Danny practically jumped in the air, punching the air in triumph. Jason almost felt proud of him, this complete stranger he’s been watching, wow he was being creepy, huh? Danny shot both of his arms straight up, the marker gripped tightly in his right hand fist.

“I did it!”

He looked so happy, so excited. He began to buzz, even spinning, before stopping mid loop and turning around slowly. Shit, Jason had been caught. To be fair, Danny hadn’t exactly turned around the whole time, meaning Jason was just watching his back the whole time as he worked through his… problem? It’s such a shame, Jason was thoroughly entertained by this random kid.

“Uhhh, hi? How long have you been there?”

Oh shit, Jason had to talk now, didn’t he?

“Not very long, but long enough to know you were trying to solve interdimensional travel before apparently succeeding.”

The color drained from Danny’s face. Whoops?

“Uhm, no I didn’t.”

Now that he got a closer look, the student looked like someone Bruce would adopt. Black hair, clear blue eyes, tan skin, sharp features, the whole nine yards. He was actually fairly attractive, maybe even cute.

“Really? I could have sworn that you said ‘stupid physics won’t allow interdimensional travel’”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah sure, and I’m a student here.”

“Wait, you’re not a student here?”

“That’d only be true if you were lying.”

“Well I’m not so-”

“Uh huh, sure you’re not.”

“Look dude-”

“Jason.”

“Look Jason, there’s no way that I could solve interdimensional travel, the multiverse doesn’t exist.”

“Look Danny-”

“How do you know my name?”

“I won’t tell a single soul if you explain how you did it to me”

Curiosity won his gambit. Would he regret what he was about to say? Perhaps.

“Maybe over a coffee?”

He knew it was worth it when the marker hit the floor and Danny moved his hand to cover his red face. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s done something he regrets, maybe this time it’d be a cute STEM major who knows the secrets to the multiverse.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny fenton is a huge nerd #figuring out interdimensional travel instead of finishing his 5 page english paper due 'like yesterday'#jason has done many things he regrets #breaking into a college isnt one #neither is asking out the cute nerd with eccentric capabilities #if only jason knew what he was getting into #boo #jason todd x danny fenton #dead on main #college au #gotham university

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

Text

~ satoru gojo's girlfriend gets a nice surprise ~ nsfw cw : sex, creampie, public touching, cum eating >//< drunk 'driving' !

Satoru turns up at your place in his self-driving car asking if you wanna go for a spin, only for him to pull you onto his lap when he's set the car on auto.

"Wait!! Oh my god-" you give him a frantic look when he lets go of the steering wheel, but he just swings his seat back and gives you an easy smile.

You're straight up straddling him now, and he's not even looking at the road as you travel at speed down the highway.

"Sa-Satoru-" you cast your head over your shoulder to look at the road, where it's pretty clear and open.

"Honey," he pulls your attention back and starts grinding himself between your legs, "why else would I get a driverless car?"

"I-- I, for... convenience? You could use your phone and-"

"No, I got it for fucking."

Of course, with your numerous parties and events to go to, you usually end up giving him a hand job during the journey anyway. Your pretty playboy has plenty of flashy cars, their plush seats often left covered in yours and his cum from where he shoves his long fingers inside you on the passenger seat.

But now he gets the full thing. He couldn't help himself. He bought one as soon as they were available, got everything set up and went to pick up his sweetheart.

And here you are, sitting pretty on his rising boner, trying to deny him? Oh no. He won't allow it.

"Satoru, is, is it dangerous??"

He's getting impatient now and he can't be bothered to explain the inner workings of this vehicle to you before he fulfills his fantasy of making you cum on his dick at 80mph.

"Baby," he reaches for your blouse and tugs you down suddenly, making you let out a sweet yelp and grab onto his chest, "just come here already, won't you let me have my fun?"

He kisses away your uncertain look and soon your body is heating up just how he wants. He drags your panties down and slips his cock out, plunging it under your skirt and rubbing himself up and down your slit. He smirks at the delicious moan that leaves your lips as he pumps his tip through your entrance, sliding his long inches inside you.

"Ride me," he orders, pushing you up again, and you squeal when he rips your shirt open with your tits spilling out, hands flying to your chest to cover yourself.

"Tinted windows, sugar, let me see."

He pulls your hands down and starts moving his hips, until you obey him and start bouncing up and down his length.

His smooth tip buries into your cervix and his eyes roll back as he emits a dirty groan.

"Baby, fuck yeah~"

But he's not satisfied till he's got you shaking on his cock, lips quivering with his name as the car speeds down the road.

Your eyes start darting around, finding the passengers in the passing cars who are completely oblivious to what you're doing.

But he can't stand you looking away from him.

So he fucks his hips into you harshly, making you whimper and duck down so you don't hit your head.

"Eyes on me, pretty."

He commands and your attention is his for the rest of the journey. You kiss his jaw and mark his gorgeous neck, tonguing his prominent adams apple and stripping his crisp, white shirt away to find his muscular chest.

Your hands are in his hair and his dick is hitting you so good, until you realise the car is slowing down and telling you that you're arriving at your destination. A friend's house.

"Fuck- here already-" he moans and brings his hands to your ass where he spreads your cheeks and guides you over his cock.

He speeds up, knowing he needs to cum soon or you're going to be sat on your friend's driveway with the car bouncing, not leaving much to anybody's imagination. Not that he'd care.

"Baby, baby can you- can you cum for me one more time?" He breathes out your name and almost begs you, and you're close anyway, from his abdomen rubbing your clit. So you guide his fingers between you and he circles your clit quickly, keeping up his intense pace as he fucks you into a deep, head spinning orgasm.

"Th-that's it- fuck-" now he's the one shaking under you, his balls twitching and his shaft surging with hot, milky cum, "you wan' it?"

"uh huhhhuhhhh-"

He can't control himself now, seeing your mouth hang wide with another sensual moan and feeling your pussy suck him in.

"C-cumming- shiiiittt--"

You milk him slow until your body grinds to a halt, just as the car stops and the engine turns itself off.

You're panting and kissing for a moment, until you start redressing each other. He pulls your panties up and tells you to keep his cum inside.

He puts his shades on and undoes another button, proudly showing off the marks as he walks into the party with your ass in his hand.

"Don't let it spill, baby."

He tells you as you climb out of the car, looking a little dishevelled. You straighten up your hair and fix your makeup but you fear it may be in vain, as you feel his cum trickling down your legs and his hair is a complete mess with red and pink hickeys all over his neck.

He later dives under your skirt from behind, with your back facing a wall, toying with the slick mess in your pussy while you try to maintain a casual conversation over champagne.

He can't stand the way your voice starts to break and dip so he drags you to the bathroom and eats your pussy, finally cleaning up the mess he made and putting you back together again.

You leave the party in the early hours- and you know it's definitely still illegal- but you're both tipsy, getting in the car and letting it drive you home while you fuck one more time, drunk, horny and messy.

satoru | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #18+ content #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru gojo #satoru imagine #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader

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marvelfilth · 11 months

Text

Wisdom teeth

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: ooc! Wednesday, mention of blood

Summary: "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché."

Masterlist

She doesn't say anything when you help her to the passenger seat of your car, her eyes stay rooted on the spot above your shoulder, dark and unblinking. She sits dutifully and doesn't complain when you bend to fasten her seatbelt, your warm fingers barely grazing her clothed thigh on accident. You think you heard a slightest hitch of her throat, but that might have been your wishful thinking.

Ever since the brooding brunette first stepped foot on Nevermore grounds you were irrevocably pulled in her orbit, always close enough to be seen by her, but never close enough to reach out and touch, not that you'll ever try, you do need all of your fingers intact. Her menacing aura and Machiavellian tendencies never stopped you from trying to reach out and form some sort of connection, even if it was just making eye contact in dark hallways or receiving nearly unperceivable eye rolls whenever Enid dragged you to their room. Not even once in the months you've known her did she grace you with more than a few words and barely noticeable nods, opting to focus on her novel or, in extreme cases, leaving the room to continue her endless investigations.

So when Enid cornered you in the morning and practically begged you to take Wednesday to the dentist's office, you were torn between crushing Enid in a hug and fleeing to the woods to hide out.

In the end, you couldn't miss the chance to get to know the gothic girl a little bit better.

Wednesday pointedly clears her throat and you jump up, bumping your head against the roof of your car, close the door and make your way to the driver's seat.

You suppose her impatience to get back to school makes sense with how overstuffed her mouth seems at the moment, and once you're finally behind the wheel you reach over the console to gently swab away droplets of blood on her lips.

She stops breathing altogether.

"Are you alright, Wednesday?" You can't help, but ask, your hand awkwardly hovering over the console.

She takes a moment to think and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming when you practically see gears turning in her head as she struggles to formulate a response, her brows crinkled and lips slightly pursed.

"Your archive. Are we going there now?" She asks.

And there's that.

She refused anesthesia, looking eager to go through all the pain, her eyes shining brighter than you've ever seen. The doctor blanched, stuttering while he tried to reason with her, mentioning how agonizing the pain will be and how he'll probably get fired if he agreed to do it.

It made your skin crawl.

You pulled her away before she could threaten the poor man, promising her anything she wanted if listened to the doctor and agreed to anesthesia.

Her eyes flickered to your hand on her shoulder before she looked back at the sweating man, her eyes narrowing slightly.

You held your breath, looking at her with wide eyes, already regretting your offer, but all she asked for was unlimited access to your family archive.

You suppose her request made sense, given your family's history and her unwavering interest in all things unknown, but it still made your heart clench with an unbidden feeling you'd never name out loud.

"No, we're going back to school. I told you I'll take you there over summer, remember?" You patiently reply, subtly eyeing the grumpy brunette.

She huffs, wincing when it causes her pain and turns to look out the window, her eyes slightly hazy.

You take a deep breath and finally pull out from the parking lot, driving in silence and keeping your eyes firmly on the road until you can no longer pretend like you don't feel her heavy gaze on you.

"What is it, Wednesday?"

"Your face."

You blanch, offended. "What about it?"

You don't think you'll be able to withstand her making fun of your looks. She doesn't seem like the type to do that, but you can't be too sure - she is acting rather out of character.

"It's distracting. Turn around." She demands, furrowing her brows.

Your jaw falls open. "Wednesday, I'm driving."

She huffs and crosses her arms. After a minute of contemplation she starts rummaging through your glove compartment.

"Don't," you groan. You won't let her tear you apart for the mess she'll undoubtedly find there, so you reach for your phone. "Why don't you play a game? Or, I don't know, find something to blackmail me with?" You unlock it and toss it on her lap, your hand falling back on the wheel, clutching it in a tight grip.

Your phone lays untouched for a long moment and you have to restrain yourself from looking over at the ravenette. It's the longest you've spent in her company and she most certainly said more words in the past ten minutes than she did in all the time you've known her, and Enid didn't prepare you for conversations.

Your palms start to sweat a little.

She looks down at her lap and picks up your phone with two fingers only to throw it on the backseat. "I'm allergic to technology," she deadpans.

She stays silent for the next few minutes and you relax, thanking every divine being for making this trip somewhat easy for you.

And that's when she turns to look back at you, her expression sour and displeased, like you just said something really dumb. You decide to ignore her for as long as you can, checking your blind spots and fiddling with the radio to seem busy.

She pointedly clears her throat, pulling your attention. You sigh and look at her.

"What now?"

She frowns. "I feel compelled to reveal something you might find… unwelcome." Her mumble comes out distorted and she winces slightly, her hand coming up to cradle her swollen cheek and you swiftly slap it away, sheepishly looking away at her affronted look.

"Don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Usually, slapping ones hand causes them pain," she retorts, fully turning in her seat to face you. "You slapped my hand. That hurt. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I prefer to inflict pain, not receive it."

You snort, shaking your head at the smaller girl and she pouts. Wednesday Addams, the girl who'd rather jump off a cliff in a river full of piranhas than show an ounce of human emotion, pouts.

But maybe it's not so strange, considering the circumstances.

You adjust in your seat, your right hand landing on your thigh to subtly fiddle with the rough fabric of your jeans. They're light blue, with flowers all over their back pockets and Wednesday absolutely hates them, which is why, you guess, she's currently staring down at your legs like they're her mortal enemies.

The tips of her ears turn red.

"Must you do that?" She hisses, gesturing to your hand on your thigh.

You blink and place it back on the wheel, noting the way her eyes snap up to glare at the road.

"Are you feeling okay?" You ask, because she's starting to look restless. Her fingers clench and unclench on her lap and she keeps glancing at your hand every couple of seconds.

"No." Her eyes snap up to look at the roof of your car, her face a picture of impatience. "Hold my hand."

You gulp, breath catching in your throat and turn to look at the smaller girl just in time to catch her boring holes into your hand and probe lightly at her cheeks. Your mouth opens to stutter a response, but her scathing look makes you shut up.

"This gauze in my mouth feels terrible, I can't possibly endure it a moment longer. Holding your hand will make the feeling bearable." She looks at you expectantly, turning over her hand on her lap, waiting.

You hesitantly reach out and take her hand. She laces your fingers, letting out a quiet sigh as she sags against the weathered leather, turning to look out the window.

You can't believe this is happening.

This Wednesday is not something you're equipped to deal with. Hell, you can barely manage her regular self, which still comes hard at times, especially when you intrude on her writing time. It's not like you mean to do that, but a certain blonde always chooses that exact hour to invite you over, always wearing a mischievous smirk when Wednesday tenses up upon your arrival.

This feels like walking on thin ice at gunpoint with a ticking bomb in your hands.

"How-"

Her nails dig into your skin hard enough to make you yelp, but you don't pull away, eyeing the stewing girl. She's breathing heavily, her lips opening and closing as she seemingly tries to keep herself from blurting something out.

It's so bizarre you have an urge to pinch yourself, but you don't need that with her nails still digging into your skin.

You focus on the road, afraid to stir the dragon.

Her next words make you jolt so hard the car wavers on the road.

"Every time my eyes land on you my heart skips a beat," she says, like she's complaining about a mystery she couldn't solve.

You grip the steering wheel tighter. "What?"

"One does not typically pay attention to such mundane thing, but I do. Whenever you're in my vicinity I can't help, but be aware of each skipped beat of my heart. The feeling is revolting, and I've had the urge to confess this ever since I woke up." She frowns, and it's quiet for a few minutes as she seemingly gathers her thoughts.

The moment you had in your art shed suddenly comes to mind. You went there after a long day of studying in the library, ready to decompress and finish your latest painting. You didn't expect anyone to be there, which is why you shrieked like a maniac when you flicked the lights on, basking Wednesday's rigid form in warm yellow glow. She stood over your painting, her features stony and unreadable as her fingers traced the outline of a shipwreck on the canvas, the still wet paint smudging her fingers and messing up your precise strokes.

It made the painting even more beautiful.

You dug around your backpack, looking for tissues, taking a step closer when you finally found some. With great hesitance, you reached for her hand, your fingers closing around her delicate wrist. Her lips parted as she inhaled, her pulse erratic under your thumb. She took one look at you, turned on her heel and left, her perfume lingering in the air.

You gulp, when her grip on your hand turns painful. "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché," she complains through gritted teeth, irritated.

Your face burns the same shade as the red light you've come to stop at. You don't know if you should feel ecstatic or fear for your life, because no matter what happens next, you're sure Wednesday will have your head for witnessing a rare moment of weakness. But your heart always had more power than your head, so you're left with trembling hands and sweaty palms, choking on your breath as you struggle to think of something to say.

"Wednesday, I'm going to have a heart attack," you mumble.

"You're not showing any signs of an impending heart attack, if anything, your symptoms correlate with something Enid usually calls having a crush." She's back to staring intently at you, catching every twitch of the muscles on your face as you try your best to keep your blush at bay. Her hand slides up, enclosing your wrist.

Your heart burns in your chest and you feel the need to correct her, to tell her that what you feel for her is more than some stupid crush. You need to tell her about the way your dark wings tingle when she brushes past you, begging to be released from the confinement of your spine. You need to tell her about the way your heart beats out a special rhythm, hammering against your ribs like a caged animal, desperately leading its owner to the girl who successfully stole it.

You need to tell her how easy it was to fall for her and how hard it got when you realized the extent of your feelings.

You need to tell her something, anything.

You need to tell her everything.

A loud honk jostles you and you look back at the road to keep driving, trying your best to hide your face when a car passes by you, the driver giving you a finger.

"Imbecile," Wednesday mumbles.

"Yeah, what an asshole."

"I meant you. The gesture was entirely appropriate seeing as you failed to pay attention to your surroundings."

"Huh?" You gape. "You're insulting me now?"

"Your observation skills never cease to amaze me," she frowns in thought, "just like your remarkable ability to make my existence less bothersome." The haze in her eyes is gone, replaced by reserve and a hint of fondness.

Your brain short circuits.

You pull over and let your forehead fall against the wheel, still holding it in a death grip.

You would never admit it to anyone, not even on your deathbed, but you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at her quiet confession.

Your smile is so wide it hurts your cheeks, but you don't care as long as Wednesday keeps looking at you like that, like she's trying her best at keeping away the warmth in her eyes. They flicker to your lips when you lick them, and this time she can't keep her emotions in check, her eyes alight with fiery passion.

You can't help voicing your concern. "I thought you didn't like me that much. I mean, you barely speak to me when Enid drags me to your dorm."

She looks at you for a long moment. Her thumb circles your knuckle. "Enid has a surprisingly perceptive eye. She noticed a certain change in my behavior long before I did and decided to act on it. I simply wasn't prepared."

"Are you prepared now?" You breathe out.

"Are you?"

You let out a relieved laugh, and pull her hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on her ice cold knuckle. "Wednesday, I've been pining over you since the day we met."

She lets out a barely noticeable breath and you suddenly realize she's been nervous all this time too, you just failed to pay attention in your anxiety riddled state.

"Good." The corners of her mouth fly up.

Your eyes widen. She has dimples.

She turns away nonchalantly and places your intertwined hands on her lap, looking like she just solved the biggest mystery known to mankind.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #Wednesday Addams x y/n #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna Ortega #Wednesday Addams x female reader

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souliebird · 20 days

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease.

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye.

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt.

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask?

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you.

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?”

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem.

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate.

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her.

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can.

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS.

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too.

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse.

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes.

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing.

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life.

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room.

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there.

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped.

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply.

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte.

But you don’t.

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid.

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake. The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted. So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers.

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are.

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring.

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?”

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.”

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more.

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.”

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night.

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.”

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips.

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response.

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse.

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning.

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way.

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it.

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it.

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all.

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down.

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you.

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile.

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck.

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you.

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you.

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek.

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can.

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up.

You can’t get to Minnie.

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts.

“DADDY!”

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter.

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath

@allllium

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you

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