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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

“You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar

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drakulana · 2 months

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when you're sick // law x gn! reader drabble

⚝ summary: you get sick and law takes care of you, gn! reader

⚝ content: sick reader, no pronouns, no y/n, law takes care of you, very short and sweet!

⚝ wc: 855

⚝ a/n: i've been sick so this is just something a little fun i wrote. i hope you enjoy!!

✩࿐

you never really took getting sick seriously. it didn’t happen often, and when it did, it usually passed within a couple days. it started out as the sniffles. you thought it was just a cold, so you went and got some cold medicine from the infirmary. it wasn’t something you thought was worth telling your captain. you made it through the day completing all your tasks without any problem, thankful to fall into bed that night. the next morning, you woke up with a raging headache. it was undoubtedly from all the sinus pressure that had set in while you were asleep. you were hoping to sleep off the sickness, but instead it presented a new symptom. the headache. still, you didn’t tell your captain. there was no reason to bother him about a headache when you could just go into the infirmary and get some more medicine. so that’s what you did. you took the same cold medicine as yesterday, and took some with you for later on in the day. as the day went on, you could feel your symptoms growing worse. the stuffy nose turned into constant sneezing. the drainage turned into a bit of a nasty cough, and the sinus pressure turned into puffy watery eyes. for a second, going to see your captain crossed your mind, but it was so late now. so you went to bed, hoping to sleep off whatever ailment you had caught, once again.

you woke up in a cold sweat. your bedsheets and blankets stuck to you, and chills had overtaken your body. your body ached. the dim light pouring in from under the door hurt to even look at. your head felt like it had been split open. the sounds of your crewmates chattering and walking up and down the corridors getting ready to work was amplified, and was not aiding your headache in the slightest. it was time to get up. it was time to go to work, but you seemed to be almost bed ridden. you cursed yourself. you knew as soon as your captain noticed you weren't present he would come looking for you. he was not going to be happy that you failed to tell him that you were sick. until then, you decided that you were going to get some rest. you closed your eyes, and let the darkness consume you.

you spent the next hour in and out of sleep. no matter what position you were in, everything hurt. you could hear footsteps approaching your room. a knock sounded on the metal door, making you groan a weak come in, at whoever was at the door. you knew who was at the door before they even knocked. it was law.

the harsh white light from the hallway spilled into your room, making you shield your eyes. the light was blinding, and just as you thought it couldn't get worse, law flicked on the light switch in the room. "please turn the light off," you croaked out at your captain to which he complied, mumbling a soft apology. he walked over to your bed, looking down at your sick figure. "why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he tutted, reaching down to feel your forehead. he sucked in a breath at the feeling of your burning skin. his hands were cold, and you leaned into the soothing touch. "you have a fever," he stated the obvious. he removed his hand from your head and let out a sigh before turning on his heel and leaving, wordlessly. shutting the door behind him, the darkness of the room brought relief to the pounding in your head. however, it didn't last long. a few minutes later your captain was back. he had a wet washcloth in hand, a thermometer, some medicine, and some water in hand. he pulled up a chair next to your bed, laying the cool washcloth across your head. the coolness soothed the pounding just enough for you to be able to relax a bit. "open," law commanded you, and you complied, opening your mouth. "under your tongue," he commanded once again, as he put the thermometer in your mouth. you sat there with the thermometer in your mouth for a minute before law checked it, "102 degrees. you really should have come and gotten me whenever you first started feeling sick. we could have avoided this," he lectured. a quiet, i'm sorry, left your raw throat. law looked down at you, pitifully. "drink this water, and take these," law opened the water bottle, and poured two pills into his palm. he helped you sit up, his cool hands resting on your back. his touch almost relieved the aching in your back, rubbing light circles as you took the medicine. law helped you lay back down, fixing the blankets around you. "now rest," he told you as he reached over to the bookshelf across from the bed and grabbed a book, "i'll be here if you need anything," he told you. having no energy to protest, you closed your eyes and let the black consume your aching body.

✩࿐

@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

Taglist: @shuujin , @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa, @tokaio, @augustanna, @sukilovesyou, @mschoiyuki, @songinabottle , @starlightanyaaa, @elen-alambil, @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x you #law x gn!reader #trafalgar law fan fic #one piece fan fiction #one piece x reader

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inf3ct3dd · 8 months

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01. BAD LIAR

warnings: none!!!

authors note: going cray rn guys….sorry if this is a bit long 😓😓

previous chapter. next chapter. masterlist.

the rest of summer break was….depressing.

as they say, lesbian heartbreak hits hard.

ellie must’ve texted you a thousand times, and you couldn’t reply because every time you saw her name on your phone you started bawling.

and your daily stalks of her instagram had you completely salty-faced.

you were so obnoxiously upset, that everything that had anything to do with her made you upset. you worried that if you even saw her face to face, you’d fold on the floor and drown in your own tears.

which was what made being in your room even worse, because it was covered in HER.

open your closet? her old hoodie.

sit at your desk? a framed picture of the two of you.

vanity? polaroids taped to the mirror.

even your BED. which held the stuffed animal she bought you, mr pickles.

mr pickles might as well have been a real pickle from how salty he was from being covered in TEARS during one of your very frequent breakdowns.

you basically lived in your room, your sister having to literally drag you outside to do anything. the only thing that worked was bribing you with food.

“cmon, i made pasta.” was her best excuse to get you out of your self inflicted prison.

ellie showed up at your house a few times, and each time she did, you hid in your room. at one point she actually came upstairs, and you crawled out of your window and hid on your roof until she left.

you did not want to talk to her.

after a while, and constant berating from all your friends and your family, you got over your extremely dramatic episode. well….not really? but at least you weren’t in your room sobbing over a tiktok you saw because the girl “looked like ellie.”

the days leading up to the first day of school basically consisted in you being in a constant state of panic.

what if she talks to me?

what if i have to sit next to her in class?

what if she-

“DUDE. CAN YOU STOP BEING A BATHROOM HOG AND LET ME GET READY?”

you heard your sister yell from outside the door, interrupting your thoughts.

you had been pacing in the bathroom for thirty minutes, losing your fucking mind.

you shouldn’t be this stressed out. it happened almost a month ago. you’ll be fine girl, calm down.

you give yourself a final once-over in the mirror , fixing the two plaits on the sides of your head before adjusting your glasses, and swinging the door open, revealing your pissed off sister.

“fucking finally.”

she muttered under her breath, before dramatically slamming the door behind her.

you gave your dad a hug goodbye before walking over to your car, twirling your keys in your fingers. you had just gotten your license last year, (too scared to get it when you were 16), and you still weren’t very….good at driving.

you opened the car door, making your hand wet from the raindrops , and sat down inside the car.

you watched your sister walk over to the car, with a fucking helmet.

she swung open the door and sat down in the passenger’s seat, setting her bag on the ground.

“…..are you serious?”

you looked over at your sister, a look of disbelief plastered on your face.

“with the way you drive? very much so.”

you roll your eyes at her before pulling out of your driveway, making your way to school.

after you got to school, you really wished you would’ve stayed home.

or transferred schools.

to one in a different country.

because when you walked into your first period, ellie was there.

and your second.

and your third.

and your fourth.

the first half of your day was spent basically hiding from her. sitting as far as possible, making your presence seem non-existent.

it was definitely a chore, but you’d rather do this than actually have to confront her.

even during passing periods, you practically speed-walked to your next period classes, avoiding the brunettes persistent attempts to talk to you.

it was hard to focus on anything in class when you could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

lunch was….once again, very depressing. your usual lunch table was just full of ellies friends, and of course, ellie herself.

you looked around the cafeteria for a while , scanning the large room for one of your friends. and yet, you turned up empty.

do i just have zero classes with them?

you finally gave up, walking to the courtyard outside.

the courtyard was fairly empty, given that it was still soaking wet .

you walked over to a bench that looked fairly dry, sitting down and slinging your backpack off your shoulders before sitting it down next to you, grabbing the lunch you packed for yourself.

you started to eat , biting into the quesadilla you made yourself , looking around the courtyard and nodding your head to the music blaring in your headphones.

the noise cancellation blocked out the sound of a door swinging open, and footsteps quickly approaching you.

you continued eating your lunch, this being the most calm you’ve been all day, slightly kicking your feet back and forth as they dangled off the bench.

you don’t notice ellie walking over to you until its too late, and shes standing in front of you, repeating your name.

“hello???”

you look up at her, slightly jumping at her presence and pulling your headphones onto your shoulders.

“uhm….hi.”

you utter, meeting her eyes.

“are you just never gonna talk to me again?”

ellie responded, a disappointed look on her face.

you avoided eye contact with her, staring at your hands in your lap.

“i don’t really…..have anything to say to you.”

you mutter, still avoiding her gaze.

“nothing? you don’t have anything to say about what happened?”

“what do you expect me to say?”

“….i don’t know. i just want to talk to you.”

she looked away from you, fiddling with her rings the same way she did the last time you saw her.”

“are you alright? you haven’t really been posting or anything lately.”

she was looking at my account??

“i’m fine. just haven’t been on my phone much.”

you lied, staring at her shoes.

“i can tell….i must’ve texted you 1000 times and you never answered.”

she anxiously rubbed her arm, trying desperately to hold eye contact with you.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“its fine, i kinda deserved it.”

she lets out a dry chuckle, rubbing her arm with her opposite hand.

theres an awkward silence between the two of you, both fidgeting with your hands and looking everywhere but at each other.

“so… are you and dina like, a thing now?”

you boldly questioned, crossing your legs in front of you.

“no- we were just drunk. we’re just friends.”

“real friendly.” you mumbled under your breath.

“are you uh…seeing anyone?”

ellie asks, slightly bouncing on her feet.

ellie only asks because she knows you aren’t. she wants an ego boost. she just wants you to say it.

she doesn’t expect you to say yes.

and neither do you.

“actually? who is it?”

the realization of what you just said hits you like a truck, the false confidence disappearing and replacing it with fear. you think, maybe for a bit too long, about what to say.

and then you finally utter-

“abby.”

ellies look of confusion is replaced with anger at your answer.

abby anderson. the one girl you knew she hated.

constant bickering and dumb fights, arguments that meant absolutely nothing that lasted their entire high school careers, and the constant competition between the two of them brewed your perfect opportunity for jealousy. your thoughts moved as fast as your mouth.

“cmon, you’re joking right?”

ellie asks before scoffing, readjusting her feet and crossing her arms in front of her.

you shake your head before packing up your things, starting to leave.

you don’t notice that you left your class schedule on the bench.

“you’re not fucking with me?”

ellie was practically fuming, the tips of her ears turning red as she dug her fingers into her arms.

you give her a nod before walking away, quickly turning on your heel.

“are you serious?”

“dead.”

your best friend mina was staring back at you, mouth agape in shock as she listened to you recall what happened during lunch.

your heart beat speeds up as you run around the track, even though you were already basically having a heart attack before you started.

having gym outside was already brutal, and the fact that it was extremely foggy and depressing-looking outside made it ten times worse. usually, you would’ve tired out by now, begging the gym teacher to let you inside because you had a “headache”, but for some reason you were feeling extremely bold today.

as you and your friend slow your pace you feel someone running behind you. you take a deep breath, expecting ellie to pop up behind you, but you’re suprised when you hear an unfamiliar voice call out your name.

you turn around to face her, and you look up and see abby.

your heart hammers in your chest while you try to catch your breath, simultaneously trying to calm your nerves.

“um…hey.”

you reply, staring up at her.

your eyes move to her hands, and you notice a piece of paper in one.

“is this yours?”

abby reaches her hand with the paper towards you, realizing its your class schedule.

“oh yeah, thanks.”

abby smiles at you, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. you subconsciously mirror her actions, slipping your hands into yours.

“welcome. we have pretty similar schedules actually.”

“oh really? i didn’t notice.”

you smile at her, and she offers the same smile back.

mina makes her hands smooch, making an obnoxious kissy face behind abby.

“yeah, you seemed like you were kinda staying to yourself today.”

you give her a death glare before looking back to abby, slightly shifting on your feet.

“i guess, i’ve just been….avoiding someone.”

you look away for a second, and see ellie angrily storming towards the two of you, all her anger and eye sight directed towards abby.

shit.

abby looks in the same direction as you, watching you get anxious as ellie walks over.

“you okay?”

you redirect your attention to abby, watching her eyebrows quirk at you in concern.

you give her a quick nod, but the look on her face remains unchanged. she doesn’t believe you.

you feel ellie get closer to you. you run through the thousands of scenarios that could go wrong if she gets over to the two of you.

ellie would think you’re a pathetic weirdo, and abby would think you’re an insane person.

however, your body moves faster than your thoughts, and you choose the absolute worse option to get out of this.

you slightly stand on your tiptoes and smash your lips onto abbys, holding her face with your hands.

her eyes widen in shock, blind to you as you shut yours as hard as possible.

surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away.

ellie sees the sight in front of her and scoffs, staring at the two of you in disbelief.

“guess she wasn’t lying.”

taglist:

if ur name is crossed i cant tag u :((

@rimaybank @nickiminaj689 @ leomcshizzle @planetflorxa @teawithnosugar @sawaagyapong @how-to-disappearrr @vsselz @pepperispicy @chrry1ovr @ 4yn1y4h @lottienatfinalgirls @honeycinnamonenthusiast @heartrobynn @ibatman @sugarbag @arizvla

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x black reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #lesbian

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months

Note

Dark turtles living in the penthouse with Cody after freed from Darius hc?

Dark Turtles in Cody’s Penthouse (Headcanons)

A/N: Not a super detailed one, as I need to get up early in the morning. The official count down until I finish my internship😭

Warnings: None🖤💚

The Dark Turtles were surprisingly quiet when they first moved into the penthouse. They had been there before, but none of them, other than Leo, had taken the time to take in the looks and decor of the penthouse.

Leo seemed to be the most affected by the move. He remembered his time in the penthouse, seeing the way the turtles had taken care of him in every room. He seemed melancholy, and for a time Cody was a little worried for him. But as time passed, Leo came to become comfortable in his new surroundings, somehow finding peace with the past.

The one that did the best with the change of surroundings, was Mikey. He quickly adapted, learning how to use the television and Helix console in less than a day. In the beginning, Cody would often find Mikey in front of the television in the morning, and the last thing in the evening, and for a time, Cody had no access to the couch, due to Mikey’s long legs taking up the whole length.

Raph was more mad the first week, his aggressions growing to a point he hadn’t felt in a long time. All these new impressions on him made him feel on edge and nervous, fearing that everything could be taken away at any given moment. But after the first week he realized that nothing was going to be taken away from him, and that Cody in fact wanted him and his brothers to stay. It was incredible comfort to Raph, even bringing him to tears one evening, crying out his feelings of gratitude to Cody.

Donnie almost seemed untouched by the whole ordeal. He found his brother’s over emotional states irritating and eratonal. Donnie was more than happy that Cody allowed him and his brothers to stay in his expensive penthouse, but he did not show it. Instead he would nod gratefully at Cody whenever he was around, doing everything in his power not to cause Cody any problems. The last thing Donnie wanted, was for him and his brothers fuck up such an amazing second chance, after all they had been though with the turtles and Cody. Therefore he spent a lot of time in Cody’s lap, either working on his own thing, or helping Cody out with what he could.

All of the Dark Turtles took over the old rooms of their counterparts, each of them finding a strange comfort in the room, as if they had been in there for longer. As if they had called it theirs before they even moved in with Cody. It was a place they often went to calm themselves down, or just to get away from their sometimes hectic lives. During their first few weeks in the penthouse, that was where they spent most of their time, collecting their feelings and thoughts.

Raph was not much for admitting it, but during his first nights in his new bed, he started to have nightmares. Visions of the past haunting his mind, along with the many pains he had been through. But those nightmares disappeared after Raph had his emotional talk with Cody, finally giving him peace at night.

It didn’t take long for Leo to find Leonardo’s bonsai tree, and without hesitation, he started to take care of it, recounting the words Leonardo had told him back then.

All through the Dark Turtles were quiet during the first few weeks, the moment they started feeling at home, they got loud. From one day to another, they started running up and down the hallways, screaming and yelling, crashing into walls when they were too heavy at a high speed, unable to move out of the way before collision. That had already cost Cody a lot.

Peacekeepers had been a constant after the kanabo clones moved in. Noise complaints, or the inhabitants of the building having something to complain about. There was even that one time the peacekeepers were called, because Mikey had been blasting music out over the city in the middle of the night. People were not fans.

Cody would follow in the footsteps of the original turtles, and take up the clones ninja training from where it was left off, helping them to become even stronger, and using their emotions as a tool to help them move further. It had proven quite successful, even helping the turtles become more calm. Or, as calm as a bunch of kanabo clones could be. Now they at least would cause as much of a noise interruption as before.

Just because they are part kanabo, does not mean that they didn’t work. Bishop had long wished to work together with the original turtles, and maybe even put them on a paycheck. But with the turtles going back to their own time, Bishop turned his attention towards the clones. It took some time, but he finally managed to convince them to work for him. In the end the Dark Turtles saw it as a win - anything to stump Darius or any of his new tricks into the dirt. And then getting paid for it? Amazing!

Turns out that the clones are quite spontaneous shoppers. With a sudden large amount of money in their hands, they were not quite sure how to handle it, spending it on whatever they found interesting. Cody had obviously noticed the large amount of new things laying around the penthouse.

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sinsandsweetness · 11 months

Text

♡ SWEET DREAMS ☾

quick n’ smutty drabble <3 (rickyl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ mdni, absolute filth ngl, smut, dubious consent, somnophilia? overstimulation, unprotected p in v, praise kink for sure, + sweet n’ gentle aftercare cause I say so.

“Hey, you still with us, sweetheart?” Rick tapped your cheek gently as you dazed in and out of consciousness. Absolutely fucked out from the nights events. Relentless hours of teasing, followed by a game of ‘how many times can we make her cum?’

“There she is…” Rick’s voice was gentle as you finally looked up at him, with glossy eyes and labored breaths.

“Have we been too hard on you, baby? Got you slippin’ away on us?” Daryl asked, noticing your drowsy state.

You nodded, head all fuzzy and warm, as your eyelids started fluttering shut. Your cheek hitting the pillow once again as you felt the overwhelming need to sleep come over you. In truth, you couldn’t even count how many times they’d made you cum. And at that point, it seemed like they were on a mission to actually break you.

“Nuhuh,” Daryl clicked his tongue and grabbed your cheeks, forcing your focus back to the man fucking into you. To keep your gaze on the sight of Rick splitting you open, pumping in and out of you all slow and hard. “We ain’t done yet, princess.”

You’d definitely tried telling them to stop. But that was at least two orgasms ago. And they were proving to be pretty poor listeners. It’s not like you couldn’t use your safeword. You could. And they would stop the second it left your mouth. But you were so spent by this point, that you could barely produce a coherent thought. And honestly, you didn’t really want them to stop. You just wanted to sleep.

All three of you loved it when they did this. Got off on it actually. Them fucking you into a beautiful, writhing mess, right underneath them. Both of them loved to watch. To make you squirm. To listen to your constant whimpers and pleads. Unsure wether you were begging for more or less. It was never really clear. They loved to go until you physically couldn’t take anymore. To know you’d be more than a little sore the next day. And you didn’t mind. Forever enjoying your worn out muscles that served as a reminder of the whimpers and groans that left the two men the night before. All because of how much they loved to break you.

You were a little embarrassed to realize that you’d passed out. If you’d been able to think clearly, you’d have wondered what kind of drugs they were on to keep them lasting so damn long. Their libidos outdoing yours almost every single time. Though the men didn’t seem to mind too much, since they never cared to stop. Rick took your leg and lifted it over his shoulder. Speeding up and fucking you through yet another, borderline painful, orgasm. Your eyes snapped open as you gasped at the hot eruption in your core. Waking you right up. “That’s it. Keep those eyes on me. Love seein’ those pretty eyes.” He kept going even as your legs started to shake. Until he was finally coming undone with a quiet curse and your name under his breath.

“I cant… ‘s too much,” you whined, hands going to push at Ricks abdomen as he buried himself into you. Your own muscles twitching from the aftershock.

“But baby, don’t you wanna let Daryl have his turn?” He spoke as if they hadn’t been switching back and forth all night. “Be a good girl and give us one more, you can do that right?” You hesitantly nodded in agreement. Just one more. It wasn’t like there was really another option. Rick pulled out and moved to kiss you as the other man lined himself up at your entrance, pulling your legs even further apart. “That’s it, atta girl,” Daryl cooed, gripping at your thighs as he thrusted into you. Your own creamy substance and Rick’s seed mixing together deep inside and seeping out onto your legs. You could only moan into the other man’s mouth as Daryl fucked you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, as he locked your fingers together and held your hands against the mattress. Your other hand lazily pulling at Rick’s hair while you kissed him back, all messy and drowsy.

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Knew you could do it. Such a good girl for us. Always such a good girl.” His lips were hot and wet against yours as he mumbled delicious praise through your last orgasm. Ripping through you like a knife. Hurting so damn good.

They didn’t bother running you a bath like they usually would. They knew there was no way they could keep you awake for long enough. So they let you collapse into their arms and fall right asleep. Both of them held you close as you nestled into Daryl’s neck, watching goosebumps form as they traced gentle patterns onto your skin. They brushed your hair out of your eyes and pressed sweet kisses all over your face and shoulders, hoping that you’d feel it even in your sleep.

taglist: @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae (feel free to ask if you'd like to be added💘)

#rick grimes x daryl dixon x reader #rickyl #rickyl x reader #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #rick grimes x y/n #twd fanfiction #twd smut #quickn’smutty<3

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marvelslut16 · 2 years

Text

Oh baby

Prompt number: 18 "I don't think this is your problem."

Fandom: IT

Pairing: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Swearing. Teen pregnancy. Mentions of attempted forced abortions. Some angst. Abusive parents. Fluffy in the end.

A/N: This has literally been in my drafts since 2020, and I finally finished it for fictober this year. It is my baby, please be kind to it, I love it so much. The main reason I haven't finished it till now was I was scared people would hate it. The only adulty looking gifs I could find of Finn were from season 4 of ST, whoops. Also, Richie would totally have that hair.

Richie Tozier was undoubtedly the love of your life, the problem being that you two are only in a friends with benefits relationship. It all started one night when the losers were getting drunk in the barrens in celebration of all of you passing your junior year finals, Richie and you snuck out to see the stars and one thing led to another. And the next thing you knew you were pressed up against a tree, denim shorts and cotton undies discarded a foot away, and Richie was thrusting into you. Your drunk inhibitions had been so addicting that you’ve fucked multiple times a week almost every week for the past year. You’ve kept it a secret from you friends, but the looks Bev gives you two makes it fairly obvious that she’s caught on.

Your friends with benefits relationship had been going great up until recently, when you made the worst mistake of your life. In the heat of the moment you told him those three words you had kept bottled up since that summer with Pennywise, I love you. If Richie understood what you said right away, he didn’t show it. It took him until after he was done for your words to register in his brain, and he immediately got dressed and left in an awkward huff. There was the occasional cuddle afterwards, but usually you’d just go to the living room and play your Atari, or go play street fighters at the arcade. But this time he left with a non comitial ‘see you later,’ and you immediately knew you fucked up.

The next day at school Richie pretty much ignored you, unless he had to make conversation with you to hide that anything was out of the ordinary to the losers; gone were the flirty comments he would send your way during lunch, and the arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walked from class to class. When Richie went as far as to flirt with a girl in history class you felt a sickness wash over you, it was so intense that you had to rush out of the class and through the halls to make it to the girls bathroom before your lunch came rushing out of you. Your teacher had sent Bev to come collect you, since you had left without a pass, but instead she took you to the nurse and you had to go home early.

You and your parents had brushed it off as some bad cafeteria food, nothing to worry about. But when you woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and your stomach started to churn, you knew something more serious was wrong. You spent that day and the rest of the weekend barely leaving your bed, and getting fairly used to the churning in your gut from certain smells. All of a sudden your favorite foods smelled down right nauseating, but you chalked it up to a change in your tastes. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. And when you missed your period two weeks later you told yourself it was just stress from your upcoming graduation and the fall out with Richie.

Your mother figured out your missing periods after your second month. She had come into your bathroom to check your pad supply while making a list of things the maid needed to pick up at the store, at first she was confused that the package of pads was still unopened; but your peckish eating, on and off nausea, and being in a constant state of irritation started to click into place as she realized you were pregnant. You weren’t expecting her to be understanding when she learned the news, but you didn’t expect her to rip you a new asshole.

“What were you thinking?” your mom storms into your room, unopened box of pads in hand.

“What are you talking about?” you feign ignorance, subconsciously moving a pillow to rest on your lap to hide your still unshowing belly.

“You’re irritated, you don’t want to eat what’s for dinner, instead wanting weird concoctions of food, and your pads from two months ago are still unopened!” she throws the box to her right, it smashes into your wall, box opening and pads come tumbling out. “You got yourself knocked up! God, (Y/N), I didn’t think you were this fucking stupid!”

“I’m just stressed!” you feel anxious tears start to pool in your eyes, you just need to get through the next month and you can leave Derry. Then you can have the kid in New York and your parents would be none the wiser.

“Bullshit! You stopped drinking coffee,” your mom laughs humorlessly. “I should have known then. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you cry out, letting the tears you had been holding in for the past two months finally spill.

“You’re right, you weren’t thinking! Just wait till your father hears about this-” your heart rate spikes at the mention of your father.

“We don’t have to tell him,” you scramble off the bed and rush to your mother's side, grabbing her hand to try and get her to empathize with you.

“Don’t tell him?” she lets out a manic laugh, ripping her hand from yours like you’ll taint her somehow. “He’s the goddamn mayor, this will kill his reelection campaign. You’re so fucking niave and self centered (Y/N).”

“I’ll be in New York soon, no one has to know!” your voice goes up an octave, voice rising higher as your desperation grows.

“You really think I trust you enough to go to New York? Now?” she cocks her head to the side, giving you a calculating look. “You’re not leaving this house until we get this taken care of, and after graduation you’ll be staying in Derry so I can keep my eye on my perfect, innocent, daughter.”

“You can’t do that!” you cry out, taking steps away from your mother. “I’m an adult, I can decide what I do!”

“And look where that got you, knocked up by some deadbeat at eighteen,” your mom gestures to the empty space beside you. “He’s not here right now, he won’t help you take care of a baby. You’ll thank me one day.”

She slams the door to your room behind her as she leaves, you can hear the lock sliding into place. Your parents hadn’t used the lock since you were a child. They used to lock you in your room if the Governor was visiting, or if you got in trouble and your mother had to keep you contained until your father returned home. Walking to the window you assess the distance between your second floor window and the ground below. Coming to the conclusion that it is, in fact, not worth possibly hurting your baby in order to get away from your parents.

The polaroids of you and Richie tacked to the wall above your desk seem to mock you. Your mom's right, no matter how many plans you made of leaving Derry together, he doesn’t want you. And he sure as hell won’t want the responsibility of the baby growing inside of you. Your eyes land on a picture you took of Richie right after you had made some joke about Eddie’s mom; Richie’s head is thrown back, mouth wide open in laughter, and curls blowing in the wind. Richie may not want you nor your baby, but you aren’t going to deprive the world of another Tozier, a tiny little Richie.

You're so engrossed in studying the picture of Richie that you don’t hear your door being thrown open until it’s too late to block it. There in your doorway is your father; panting, red faced, and steam practically coming out of his ears. If only the people of Derry could see their precious Mayor now, ready to attack his pregnant daughter because it’s bad for his image. He storms up to you, grabbing your arm gruffly, and pushing you into the wall behind you.

“Who’s the fucker that got my idiot daughter knocked up?” he screams, his face so close to yours that his spit is landing on yours. When you don’t respond to his question, he moves his hand from your wrist and grabs both of your shoulders, pulling you forward just to slam you back into the wall. “Answer me you ungrateful bitch!”

“No!” you scream back, kicking your father in the shin as hard as you can.

“You’re going to fucking regret that,” he shoves you one last time before slightly limping out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, you slide down the wall and curl into a fetal position on the ground. Laying in front of you is a polaroid that Bev took of you and Richie one day at the quarry last summer; it was shortly after the two of you had stared hooking up, Richie’s standing behind you, arms wrapped around you, he’s sopping wet from just getting out of the water and you’re almost completely dry, having arrived late from some political lunchin, your white sundress turning transparent from his wet body. Life was a hell of a lot simpler then, and then you had Richie to talk to when your parents were being grade A assholes.

You spent hours curled up on the floor, or at least that’s what you think because the sun had gone from shining into your room to below the horizon. Your parents never came and got you for dinner, leaving you locked up in your room as they ate the food the chef had prepared. You wait until you hear your father leave his study and head to your parents room before you move from your spot. Immediately moving to your red landline sitting atop your desk, sighing in relief when you hear the dial tone. You start to dial Richie’s number out of habit, before catching yourself and switching to Bev’s. You mutter pleas for her to answer the phone as you type in the extension to the phone in her room.

“Hello?” Bev sounds half asleep, you probably woke her after she fell asleep doing her homework again.

“Bev,” your voice cracks as a sob starts to bubble in your chest.

“(Y/N),” you can hear her shuffling to a seated position, adjusting upon hearing the desperation and fear in your voice. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I'm pregnant, Bev” you rush out, glad that you’re finally getting it off your chest to someone you trust.

“Oh my God,” she murmurs. “Is the father who I think it is?”

“Yes,” you sigh, knowing she means Richie. “My parents found out today, they’re trying to force me to get rid of the baby as soon as possible.”

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” she promises, and you wish you could believe her.

“I have to go,” you whisper, footsteps getting close to your door. You quickly and quietly hang up the phone, hiding it beneath your desk, hopefully your parents forgot you have your own line. You quickly hop in bed, covering your body to your chin and pretending to be asleep. Light from the hall floods in as your father opens the door, but you make an effort to keep up your sleeping ruse.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fixed tomorrow morning,” he quietly shuts the door behind him. Tears start to fall as soon as he shuts the door, how can he force you to do this when it isn’t what you want?

You don’t remember falling asleep, you must have cried yourself to the brink of exhaustion. So you’re more than startled to wake up to yelling downstairs, the voices are muffled but you can clearly make out your father’s voice yelling at someone to get out of his house. You jump out of bed and immediately run to the window to see if there’s a car on the driveway, and there is. You know it’s Richie’s with one glance, the 1975 Mustang Cobra that you helped him rebuild a few summers ago, and leaning against his car is Bev who is looking straight up at your window.

You run for the door the moment you hear a crash downstairs, hoping that your father forgot to lock the door the last time he checked on you. Luckily he didn’t, so you pull the door open and run down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom of the stairs are shards of what used to be the priceless glass vase that was atop the hutch next to where your father is standing.

“Let me see (Y/N),” Richie’s voice is far more demanding and forceful than he’s ever used with your father, knowing he was the one adult that could really get him in trouble.

“She’s not here, she was throwing up all yesterday so we took her to the hospital last night,” your father lies effortlessly, using the same inflection that he does when he promises the people of Derry changes he can never provide. “She was dehydrated so they kept her overnight, she should be back in a day or two.”

“I don’t believe a god damn word that comes out of your mouth,” Richie seethes, his anger only continuing to grow when he catches sight of you on the stairs. “(Y/N), go pack a bag, we’re getting out of here.”

“I don’t think this is your problem, kid,” your fathers voice is cold and calculating, and you're frozen on the bottom step. you want to listen to Richie and follow him like you’ve always dreamed of, the future could be your oyster, but you also know that your dad has the sheriff in his pocket and could make sure Richie is arrested and sent away for a long time. “Leave while you still can.”

“Like hell it isn’t my problem!” Richie shouts, his Chuck’s crushing the glass into a fine powder as he walks over to you. “She’s pregnant with my child!”

“You fucker!” spit flies out of your fathers mouth as he screams at Richie, he’s taking large menacing steps towards your lover, so you do the only logical thing, grab Richie’s arm and yank him up onto the stairs, standing in front of him so he doesn’t get punched. “You did this to her?”

“Stop it!” you scream, as your father tries to reach around you to grab Richie.

Egged on by your father, Richie tries to step around you to throw a punch, turning him around, you push him up the stairs and towards your room. You slam the door behind you, pulling your gaudy pink suitcase- which is covered in stickers from all the places you’ve visited with your parents- out of your closet and start stuffing it with clothes, knick knacks from your dead grandmother, and the polaroids of your friends that adorn your wall. You're closing the suitcase and Richie is shoving more shit in your backpack when your father throws your bedroom door open, his face scrunched up in anger and you can practically see steam billowing out of his ears.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he grabs your wrist, nails digging sharply into your skin and creating crescent shaped indents.

“I’ll tell everyone,” you level with him, it’s a low blow but you know it’ll work. “My indiscretion will hinder your chances of winning reelection, why would people vote for a Mayor who can’t even control his own kid? It’s blasphemous.”

“What do you want?” he asks through gritted teeth, it’s his way of giving into your demands without openly admitting it.

“Let us go. I’ll stay with Bev or Richie until we graduate, you’ll show up to graduation like the good father you pretend to be. And then I’ll be out of Derry, out of Maine, by the end of summer, long before anyone could notice my pregnancy.”

He doesn’t respond, not with words at least, instead he steps out of my doorway and lets Richie and I walk past and down the stairs. Neither he nor your mother say anything as you open the front door, not that you’re all that surprised because you're a disgrace in their eyes. They just let the door shut behind you and Richie, and you damn well that you’ll never see them again after graduation. Your heart hurts that they’ll never meet their grandchild, but you're also thankful that your child will never know the conniving abusive ways of your parents.

Bev runs up to you as you walk down the stone steps of the Mayor’s house, the only home you’ve ever known, and immediately pulls you into a gentle hug. The moment her arms wrap around you you break down, your parents really let you leave, they really don’t care about you, and you have nowhere to go. She keeps her arms wrapped around you as she directs you towards Richie’s stang, she notices your parents matching glares from the living room window. Richie takes your bags and shoves them into the trunk, while Bev climbs into the back of the car, and you begrudgingly take the seat next to Richie.

The drive to Bev’s is awkwardly silent, except for your occasional sniffles. None of you knows what to say, the last thing any of you ever thought would happen just did; the Mayor’s perfect little Angel got knocked up by the town’s trashmouth, and consequently kicked out. Or as close to being kicked out as one can get. Upon arriving at Bev’s apartment, Richie gets out and lets her climb out that way, with one last encouraging smile she leaves you alone with the father to your child- you’re former friend and fuck buddy.

“Where am I supposed to go?” you finally ask after fifteen minutes of him driving around in circles.

“Back home with me,” you can practically hear the duh he added in his head.

“You don’t have to do that,” you sigh, imagining what his parents' reaction would be to your current situation. “Could you just drive me to Augusta? I’ll find a woman’s shelter there or something.”

“No!” Richie slams on the breaks, pulling onto the shoulder. Dirt flying everywhere at the force of his abrupt break. “Like I’m gonna fuking let you go anywhere without me toots.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” you bite back, months of anger finally being able to be taken out on the one who’s been causing you all of your hurt. “You don’t give a shit about me, you made that very clear.”

“OH for fuck’s sak, of course I give a shit about you,” he grabs your face with both of his hands, turning it to look at him. “I got scared, so damn scared. I didn’t want to fuck it up with you and lose you. Then you told me you loved me and I got scared, cause I’m a fuck up and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t a fuck up, Richie,” you sigh, your anger dissapating at the genuine emotion swimming in his eyes. “But what you did hurt me. You left me high and dry, and pregnant. I didn’t know what to do, I was so scared and the only person I wanted to talk to was ignoring me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he leans forward, resting his forehead on yours. “I wish I had worked up the nerve to tell you I love you that day, instead of running away like some damn pansy. ‘Cause I fuckin’ love you toots.”

“You do?” your hormones forcing a sob out of you at his confession.

“I do, and I can’t wait to have this baby with you,” his right hand lets go of your face, moving to gently touch your belly. “I just hope they have your eyesight.”

“I hope they have your gorgeous brown eyes and your big ol’ lips,” you giggle, and Richie can’t help but bark out a laugh. “I love you Richie, with all my heart.”

“Not half as much as I love you,” his left hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. When his lips slot perfectly with yours, you really feel like the two of you can make this work.

#Fictober #day 3 #fictober22 #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #richie tozier x you #richie tozier fic #IT #it imagine #it fanfiction #richie tozier imagine

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nancywheelersgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

could u write a fic where nancy fully finds out what happened to robin and steve under starcourt

here u go, beloved anon. thank u for waiting so long and so patiently <3

so much braver (than i credit u for) (2,029 words)

T.W. implications of sexual assault, canon violence

The wear and tear were hardly visible in the summer sunlight - that's where Steve thrived, with his tan skin and admittedly nice chest and excellent swimming skill - but now, sat in front of his parents’ campfire with his head against his fist, he looked decades older than he really was. Nancy held her roasting stick tentatively, the marshmallow threatening to collapse into the fiery pit below as she distracted herself in tracing the shadows that fell underneath his eyes. In the harsh light he looked almost in a constant state of grief, with heavy eye bags and lines along his forehead, lips pressed in a thin line and hair limp from the heat.

Robin sat beside Nancy, the two having commandeered the foldout loveseat upon arriving in his backyard. She was expertly placing two roasted marshmallows onto their respective graham crackers - one burnt to all hell and one barely cooked. She passed one to Steve, who had his hand open and waiting as if second nature to accept food from Robin. He liked his barely cooked, apparently.

Eddie was nearly passed out in the lawn chair across the fire from them, a few purposeful feet from Steve after a day spent trying and failing to get a summer job. Surprisingly, nobody wanted to hire the assumed leader of a deadly cult. Robin suggested using it as a resume builder. Nancy suggested changing his name and trying out the next town over. He had his arms folded across his chest, a bit of marshmallow stuck to a long curled strand that Nancy didn’t have the heart to bother him about picking off.

Steve seemed to be contemplating shoving the entire smore in his mouth in one go.

“You alright?” Nancy asked, immediately wincing at both the lack of tact and impersonality of her question - they’d known each other long enough to forgo conversation starters like that. “You look, um.”

“You look like shit,” Robin helpfully interrupted, sucking off a bit of marshmallow from her finger and generally being the bane of Nancy’s existence. Steve looked up from the smore as if he’d forgotten they were there completely, a little look of shock on his face.

“I’m fine,” He said, but his tone of voice was anything besides reassuring. “I’m, uh, just not getting much sleep lately.” Nancy nodded, fully prepared to drop the whole awkward thing anyway. Clearly, Steve didn’t want to talk about himself or his well-being - he hardly ever did.

“Me neither,” Robin agreed. She took a bite of her burnt-as-hell smore, wordlessly taking Nancy’s stick from out of her loose grip and holding it patiently over the fire for her.

“Thank you,” Nancy whispered to her side. Robin knocked their feet together in acknowledgment.

“I haven’t slept since 1983, honestly,” Steve added, and while he was laughing as he said it Nancy didn’t take it as a joke.

“I have trouble sleeping too,” Nancy admitted to the both of them, hoping to coax them out into the open. Steve and Robin were a bit like frightened animals - make them talk about their feelings too much and they’d scurry away. Deer in headlights type. She had to be gentle. “I dream about - Barb. And Fred.” Just saying their names still made her choked up. Nancy ducked her head into her sweater, prepared to blame her watery eyes on the heavy smoke from the campfire. As she sniffled into the fabric, Steve hummed in neutral agreement.

“I dream about the mall,” Steve said. Beside her, Nancy felt Robin move her whole body to nod.

“You saved my life,” Nancy said, smiling wetly as she remembered both t-boning Billy’s precious sports car seconds before he flattened Nancy into the concrete. “With Toddfather.”

“That was, actually, a highlight of the night,” Steve said, laughing a little in reply as he bit into his smore. “Perfect, Rob.”

“Did you expect anything less?” She asked, pulling back Nancy’s stick just as it was beginning to catch fire. If smore-making could be a job, Robin would be making six figures, no doubt. It was little things like that that made Nancy love her so heartbreakingly. Even watching her do something as simple as making her a smore with the correct amount of chocolate and graham made her heart try to pull itself out of her chest.

“In most of my dreams,” Steve said, face grounding itself as he tapped a careful thumb against the top of his smore. “I’m - um. I’m back in that room.” Nancy frowned in confusion, taking Robin’s offered smore robotically as she looked at him.

“That room?” She asked. “What room?”

“We never told you?” Robin replied, a little surprised and a little cautious - Nancy’s heart began a steady descent down to her sneakers. What the hell had they not told her?

It was hard to check in on everybody, especially after that night. She and Jon had been so in the dark about everything else - and the hospital, god. She hadn’t allowed space in her brain for anything else, which she could admit now was a little selfish. Still, Nancy had never asked. And Robin had never said. Certainly, Steve hadn’t. She hardly knew a thing about his childhood, despite dating him for two years and being one of his closest friends for another.

“I know you guys got messed up by some Russians,” Nancy said quietly, surveying both Steve's and Robin’s faces. In the firelight, they looked eerily similar - almost haunted. “But I don’t know the details. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Robin reassured her, hand coming to pull her waist in close and squeeze the outer pocket of her jacket. “We forgot to tell you. I guess it never came up.”

“Who wants to talk about it, anyway?” Steve said, mostly to himself. He took another bite of his smore as uneasy silence fell on the group. Nancy felt terrible to push, but her journalist curiosity got the better of her.

“So - what did happen?” She asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” Robin replied. Nancy watched her make eye contact with Steve, and they proceeded to have a conversation with only slight twitches on their faces. It was the innate ability that came with being best friends the way they were. “You know about the elevator, right?” Nancy racked her brain, then: yes, a hazy recollection of Erica explaining how they’d ended up in the underground base in the first place.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, after they set off the alarms and figured out we’d broken in, we all rushed into a backroom,” Robin began, eyes firmly set on the fire. As if she were embarrassed to tell Nancy - or nervous to see her reaction. “Dustin and Erica managed to get themselves into the vent system, to try to get out - but Steve and I had to hold the door to give them enough time. We were grabbed by a bunch of Russian guards and spilt up for interrogation. They kept us there for hours.”

“They beat me so bad I nearly died,” Steve cut in, teeth gritting against each other as if the words were forcing themselves out. Nancy noticed his empty hand, the one not holding his smore, was balling into a tight fist against his leg. “They didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t working for anybody - they just kept hitting me over and over and over again. I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so bad.” That’s why his face was messed up so badly. Nancy couldn’t help her mouth from dropping open.

“When they brought us back together, I thought he-” Robin cut herself off, gasping as she suddenly realized she was crying. “Jesus, I. I’m sorry. I thought Steve was dead.” The last three words were mere whispers as if saying them to the air made it all more real. Nancy took her hand. Steve’s fist immediately unfurled to take her other, stretched beside the fire to grip with a fury she had never seen before. Robin continued to stare into the fire, unseeing.

“Did they beat you up, too?” Nancy asked. Robin let out a little breath through her nose in careful excess at the question.

“No,” She said quietly. “Well - they did. But not as bad as Steve. It was only in reaction to - when they dragged me in there, I was wearing my Scoops uniform. You know, it’s a pretty shitty outfit for espionage, yeah? And - my skirt - I thought they were going to - so kicked one of the guards in the face, and that’s when they beat me up. But they mostly left me alone.”

It was difficult to pin down exactly what Nancy felt at that exact moment. At first, it was cold horror at the steady, small implication of what Robin was saying; what those guards would’ve done to her, had she not been as ready to fight back or them not as lenient in letting her alone. But horror gave way quickly to a tidal wave of fierce, untamable anger. One that roared in Nancy’s chest and took over her whole being, face reddening with intensity and hand gripping Robin’s with white knuckles.

“Nance,” Robin chided. She looked away from the fire finally to make eye contact with Nancy. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You don’t need to break my hand.”

“Sorry,” Nancy choked out, releasing her grip only slightly. She was worried if she let go, Robin would float away - or worse, be dragged back down to the depths of the mall.

Steve’s face, in comparison, was a steady, heated anger - just as angry as Nancy, but none of the surprise. He’d known about this. Perhaps the entire time. Nancy desperately wished he’d said something, but on the same thought acknowledged it was all within Robin’s jurisdiction. At least she was telling her now.

“And then they drugged us,” Steve said. “And almost took off one of my fingers as a torture tactic.”

“Luckily Dustin and Erica came in then,” Robin finished, shaking her head and smiling despite the tears in her eyes. “The fucking idiots. I could’ve killed them if I had been able to stand up.”

“Horse tranquilizers,” Steve told Nancy, a similar smile on his face. The silence returned for a second or two before Steve was all but collapsing into Robin, pulling her into a tight hug that she returned whole cloth. Nancy stayed on the loveseat as the two best friends stood up for a better angle, gripping each other as if holding each other together. She rested a careful hand on Robin’s back and let her girlfriend fall against her shoulder, emotionally and physically exhausted, when the hug finally broke.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy said, because there was nothing else to say. Steve finished the rest of his smore and looked back into the fire. It seemed some of the shadows, while not entirely going away, had gotten a little lighter. As if the words they had spoken were floating off in the smoke. Robin looked about ready to fall asleep. “I wish I had been there.”

“I am so fucking glad you weren’t,” Robin said, voice muffled. She tucked her head against Nancy’s shoulder and shut her eyes. When Nancy managed to stop looking at the beauty that was her girlfriend in the firelight, she looked back at Steve.

“You can fall asleep, too,” Nancy offered. “I’ll keep watch.” Steve gave her a wiry grin and suddenly he was sixteen again, and the butterflies in her stomach awakened just enough for her to give him one in return.

“Thanks, Nance,” He finally decided, leaning back into his chair and tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s over, yeah? Like Rob said, it’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy admitted, carding a careful hand through Robin’s choppy bangs. Steve’s smile grew as the fire winked.

“You’re already doing something,” He said, gesturing to Robin and her prone position against Nancy’s shoulder. “You’re something, Nance. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”

Nancy, once again, blamed her tears on the fire. Steve didn’t say a word about it.

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swimmingismywholelife · 1 year

Text

Wherever You Are

Summary: You realize that you don't want to live without Kepa anymore.

Warning: Angsty beginning but fluffy ending bc all I seem to wanna write is angst these days lmao

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Inspired by "Wherever You Are" by 5 Seconds of Summer. Also if anyone has requests feel free to send them my way! Right now I'm writing for Kepa Arrizabalaga and Christian Pulisic, but I may be adding Kai Havertz to the list soon! Also also shout out to the Puli girls for always being so supportive and constantly inspiring me to write every day 💙

"Every night I almost call you

Just to say it always will be you

Wherever you are."

Kepa laid awake on his back, staring at the ceiling. He should've been asleep to get some well needed rest for his game the next day, but he couldn't. His mind wandered aimlessly, just like it did every night. No matter what he did, all he could think about was that night, the scene playing on constant repeat whenever he close his eyes.

Your forehead was on Kepa's, suitcase in hand. You knew once you walked through airport security, you wouldn't be able to turn back no matter how much you wanted to.

"Tell me to stay. Just say the word and I'll stay," you choked as tears ran down your face.

He held your face in his hands, keeping you as close to him as he possibly could.

"You know I can't, mi vida," he said, trying to remain strong for you. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I can't ask you to pass up just to stay here with me."

You sobbed harder. He was right. Your dream company in Spain had accepted your application and you were set to start the week after. You'd known from a young age that this was all you ever wanted. Everything you'd done up until this point in your life was geared towards this job, and you finally had it after years of hard work and determination.

Kepa threw a wrench in those plans. You never anticipated falling in love along the way. The years you spent with him were some of the best moments of your life and you never wanted it to end. You didn't know what the future would hold for you, but the only certain thing was that you wanted him in it.

You had to make a decision once your received the email. Kepa couldn't just up and leave with you no matter how much he wanted to. His place was in London playing with the team he so dearly loved. But Kepa knew that this was your lifelong dream and wouldn't let you give up on it just for him. You both wanted to go long distance, but with your work schedules it wouldn't have been realistic to sustain a relationship anymore. You would be staying indefinitely in Spain and he would be indefinitely in England. Keeping a relationship would prevent the two of you from growing, and he never wanted to hold you back from the happiness he knew you deserved.

It absolutely broke your heart to know you couldn't be with him. You wanted him as much as you wanted this job, but you couldn't have both. Your head was telling you to suck it up and get on the plane for a job you'd longed for since you were a child. But your heart begged you to stay with Kepa. And you would've. He just needed to say the words and you would've given up everything for him.

Kepa couldn’t ask you to do that. And you knew he couldn't.

He wiped the tears from under your eyes trying to memorize your face with the little time he had left with you.

"I promise one day I'll find you again. I swear it. I promise I won't stop until I find you," he stated firmly.

"How can you know that? How do we know things won't change between us?" you cried, desperate to hold onto him while you still could.

"Because you're worth fighting for, and you will always be worth fighting for."

Kepa softly kissed you, pouring all the love he had for you into it.

"Do you hear me? I'll fight heaven and earth, all the gods in the sky, every higher power that could possibly exist if it means I get to be with you. I won't ever give up on you, on us."

The two of you stood in the terminal in your own world, holding on for as long as possible. You could feel time ticking away and you prayed it would stop just so the inevitable wouldn't have to come.

The announcer's voice over the speaker brought you back to your harsh reality. You were going on a plane to fulfill your dreams, leaving the love of your life behind to fulfill his. Time was finally up and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"I love you Y/N," he said softly.

"I love you Kepa," you cried, "so much."

He kissed your forehead tenderly before kissing your lips, savoring what very well might have been your final time.

Reluctantly, the two of you stepped away from your hold. He handed you your bags, letting his fingers linger on yours ever so slightly. You could see the tears in his own eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Your heart broke even more knowing he wanted to be strong because you couldn't be.

"Bye Kepa," you said so softly it might as well have been a whisper.

He nodded his head, but you knew it meant two things: he was giving you the courage you needed to walk away and he was telling you that things were going to be okay.

And with a deep breath, you headed towards the security gates. You turned around to look at him one final time, tears still falling from your eyes. He gave you a small smile, both of your hearts breaking in that moment. With your heart feeling heavy, you broke his gaze and headed towards your destination.

Kepa stayed in the airport until he saw your plane taking off in the distance. He stared out the window longingly, finally releasing the emotions he was trying so desperately to suppress.

"Bye Y/N."

Kepa relived that moment every night since you left almost two years ago. While you hadn't blocked or unfollowed each other on social media, you hadn't spoken since. It would've been too painful knowing you were so close yet so far out of his reach. Kepa would've given up on his own dreams to be with you. But you wouldn't want that for him and he knew that, just as he didn't want you to do the same. He wanted to be selfish, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. And if you had to be out of his life to be happy and finally achieve everything you'd ever wanted, he would make that decision every time.

Kepa instead focused on his own career, putting his best onto the field. And it paid off, returning to his incredible form for both his club and country. Kepa had finally proved himself to be one of the best goalkeepers in Europe and gained the respect of both fans and critics alike. He'd won a few pieces of silverware, and he was only just getting started. He had regained his confidence on the pitch and it showed. He was so proud of how far he'd come despite all of his setbacks and his dreams were right within his grasp. Everything in his life was falling right into place. It was almost perfect.

Yet the one thing he wanted the most in this world, he couldn't have. There weren't any football trophies or medals in the world that could compare to the feeling of having you in his arms again. Every picture he'd taken with his awards only served as a reminder of what he had lost, who he had lost in the process. While it wasn't necessarily a decision he regretted, it didn't make the thought hurt any less.

Kepa never really tried to move on. He couldn't forget about you, nor did he want to. While his teammates attempted to convince him to go on other dates, he knew that no one could even come close you. You weren't together anymore, but Kepa's heart was still entirely yours whether you knew it or not. He didn't know what the future held for the two of you, and that was the worst part. Not knowing if he was waiting for something that would never come or if the right time was coming and he just didn't realize it yet. But he knew he desperately wanted you to come home to him.

Spain had been an absolutely incredible experience for you. From the moment you landed, you fell head over heels for the country. You learned so much about yourself and gained memories that you knew would last a lifetime. Your dream job turned out to be everything you wished for and more. You wanted to spend forever there and you easily could have. It seemed your future was almost set in stone displayed right in front of you.

But life in Spain was almost perfect. It almost felt right. It was almost your forever home. That word and that feeling kept surfacing. Almost, almost, almost. This was everything you dreamed about for as long as you could remember. So why did you constantly feel like something was missing?

You stared at the pouring rain through the window as your taxi dropped you off in front of a familiar house. You didn't know if this was a good decision, but for once you decided to listen to your instincts and follow your heart. You grabbed your bags, thanked the driver, and walked up to the house.

As you walked closer and closer to the door, your hands began to shake, your heartbeat increasing with every step. There was no turning back at this point, and there was no telling what was going to come of this encounter. But you weren't going to back down. You weren't letting this go without a fight.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. You heard soft murmurs and the sound of footsteps before the door opened.

To say Kepa was stunned to see you drenched outside his home was an understatement. The moment he saw your face, his heart stopped. His brain stopped functioning properly and he struggled to catch his breath. You two stared at each other, not a word being exchanged as your minds raced.

"I'm sorry I just showed up unexpected like this but I needed to tell you this and it couldn't wait any longer," you said to him after a minute of silence.

Kepa couldn't find his words, so he just nodded his head to let you continue.

"You were right. The job was incredible. Spain was incredible. I loved every moment of it and I had absolutely everything I wanted. My dream job, amazing friends. It was what I dreamed about and more. Everything was perfect."

You took a deep breath, your voice beginning to waver as you spoke on.

"But every day I could feel something was wrong. No matter what I did or where I went, it always felt like something was missing. I thought maybe it was homesickness, maybe it was restlessness, anxiety from a new job and a new experience. But the longer I stayed, the worse the feeling got. I kept trying to ignore it and move past it, but nothing worked because I knew why I felt that way."

You couldn't hold the tears in anymore, letting them mix with the rain that was currently running down your face. You lifted your head and looked right into Kepa's eyes for the first time since you left that day.

"I didn't have you. I had everything I could've dreamed about, and it all paled in comparison because all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be with you, how much I missed you."

You let out a sob, trying your best to stay strong.

"And God Kepa, I miss you so fucking much. I know we agreed that I couldn't just stay behind, but I've thought about that moment every day for two years and how much I fucking regret leaving you that day. I fought with myself, trying not to call you every night just to hear your voice. I avoided watching matches so I wouldn't see if you'd moved on or not. I tried to convince myself that I was ready to let you go."

You were shaking, but it wasn't because of the rain. Kepa just let you go on.

"But I lied. I lied to myself because I knew I would never stop loving you. And I couldn’t just let you go without fighting for us. I've realized that I can't live without you anymore. Spain was perfect, but I don't want perfect. I just want you."

You hesitantly stepped closer to him.

"I know it's been a long time and things have changed, but I can't give up without fighting for this. So tell me to go and you'll never see me again. But if you tell me to stay, I promise I'm never leaving ever again."

Kepa didn't even hesitate. In one swift motion, he gently cupped your cheeks with his hands and for the first time in two years, he kissed you. It wasn't a small peck, but a kiss that conveyed every emotion he'd ever felt in the time you were gone. There would never be enough words in the world to properly describe how much he needed you in his life and this was the only thing he could do. You kissed him back with the same energy, tears streaming down both of your faces.

Kepa pulled back from you to look deep in your eyes before kissing you again, much gentler this time. He wanted to savor every bit of this moment, one that'd he'd dreamt about every night since you left. He didn't want perfect either. He didn't need it when he had you because you were more than enough for him, and you always would be.

He pulled away again, this time choosing to rest his forehead on yours.

"I made you a promise that day," Kepa whispered, "a promise that I would never give up on you. I said I would fight even God above if it meant being with you. And I will never ever go back on my word. I would wait the rest of my life just to be with you at the end of it all."

Kepa pulled you as close as you physically could, planning on doing so for the rest of your lives.

"So stay with me now. You don't have to be away anymore. You're home now."

"I love you Kepa. And I never stopped loving you," you whispered.

"I love you, Y/N. I never stopped loving you and I never will. Because it doesn't matter how far you are from me or what universe we're a part of or how much time has passed. It's you. And it will always be you wherever you are. And nothing will ever change that."

The two of you stood in the doorway, your hands were covering his and foreheads pressed together as you both tried to memorize the other. You held each other tightly, just as you did in the airport all those years ago. Only this time, you weren't begging time to stop so you can be together just for a little longer because you would have each other forever. And as Kepa kissed you, you knew you would never have to say goodbye ever again.

Taglist: @neverinadream @pulisicsgirl @masonspulisic @bracedes @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @thoseboysinblue @pianoisland @lovelynikol16 @chelseagirl98

#kepa arrizabalaga #kepa arrizabalaga imagine #kepa arrizabalaga x reader #kepa arrizabalga fluff #kepa arrizabalaga angst #kepa arrizabalaga fic #swimmingismywholelife

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lostinlewis · 1 year

Text

Old Flame ~ Part Three

Rating: M

Words: 3650

Character: Lewis Hamilton x F!Reader

Description: You learnt so much from your first love but the most important lesson he taught you was how to deal with heartbreak, even if it takes you six years. You were almost there, you almost made it days at a time without thinking about him…that was until he turned up in the most unexpected of places.

The morning after the night before stung worse than any hangover possibly could, the reality of your actions, of the words exchanged, the orgasms too, left such a distaste in your mouth you felt nauseous from the moment you had opened your eyes.

The movies always made a rekindling blissful, serene, like the moment you found yourself in his arms again you would feel safe, you would feel happy, you would feel like you felt in the heights of your love but nothing could have been further from the truth for you.

There was not a thing in the world that could stop your cynical inner monologue from berating every second you spent with him the night before, you felt vulnerable, you felt anxious, you felt like you had allowed yourself to be used by a man who barely had to try.

“Good Morning baby.”

His words were the first warning that you had company in the shower as you tried to disassociate through the power of hot water covering your whole body. The second came in the form of his hands finding a home on your bare hips, an action that made your whole body tense in uncomfortability. He could feel the shift in you too, he could feel how uncomfortable his presence had suddenly made you.

He pulled your body back into his, he needed you to feel comfort, he wanted you to find it in him. He had to remind you of who he really was, not the image your mind had now curated of him. You didn’t immediately find any of that. What you did find instead was a burning ache at your core as his half hard length pressed up against your cheeks. You had almost forgotten how big he was, almost being the pivotal word because he had the kind of size that was impossible to completely forget.

“Relax, I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

His words whispered as he traced kisses along the back of your neck. You let your head fall back to his chest, the warm water falling down heavy over the both of you. Your body began to relax into his, you were getting used to his touch, to being so close with him once more. His touch was unknowingly battling with the voice in your mind that tried so hard to keep you in an alert state around him, a state of sanity almost; his touch was winning.

Your hand reached out behind you, stroking his length like the dear old friend it was. You heard him groan into your back, the feeling of your hand around his hardening made him lose focus for a moment, he was throbbing against your grip, in that moment you were the cause and the cure of all his problems. His hand brushed yours off once more, the rejection, twice now, was really starting to bother you.

Why didn’t he want you? Why did he keep dismissing your passes? You could literally feel in your hand that he wanted you, so what was the problem?

You turned to face him, forgetting your inhibitions and your constant need for modesty, and scowled.

“Don’t look like that, please.” He stroked a finger over your cheek. “I want to, more than anything else right now. But I want the first time we do it to be perfect, not rushed and not in the shower.”

“Lewis, we have had sex a thousand times.” Your frustration was flowing through your words.

“I know, I remember.” He smirked at you as images of you bent over for him flashed through his mind. “But I mean the first time we do it, again. The first time we do it properly, if you will.”

You could see he was struggling to get his words out properly, to really express what he meant.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want to rush into anything with you this time. I want to show you that I am serious, that I have changed. I don’t just want you for your body, and believe me I want your body, but you need to know that I want you for you. For all of you. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

You knew you couldn’t argue with that, you didn’t want him to be a quick fuck, a fleeting fling with an ex. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the kind of heartbreak he caused again. In that moment you were grateful, in an almost masochistic way, that the man who had caused you more pain than anyone had before, was also the man who was protecting you from it happening again. He took your silence as you processed his words as an opportunity to kiss your lips.

“And you need to wipe that frustrated look off of your face, this is for your benefit.” He kissed you once more. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you right now, as you can tell. I don’t think I've ever been this hard without a release before.”

“It feels like we’re seventeen again and I’m having to convince you to take my virginity.” You teased him with the memory.

You were childhood sweethearts, you began dating Lewis at 16, he was your neighbour, the boy next door and you had had a crush on him forever. Lewis was your sexual awakening, he was the boy you thought of when you practicsed kissing on the back of your hand, he was the boy you thought of when you explored your body at night. You dated for almost a year before you did more than just kiss and dry hump in his car, it took a lot of convincing him you were ready before he would even give in.

“See, I’ve always had your best interests at heart.” You gave him a look to remind him of how you ended up in this situation. “Okay, I’ll shut up now. Are you done showering? I need to get out before I pass out, I still don’t understand why you have to have the water so hot!”

The rest of that morning your inner voice gave you a break from doubts whilst you adjusted to having Lewis in your home. You embraced the time you were spending with him, doing absolutely nothing apart from lounging around watching trashy television shows. Every now and then, one of his celebrity friends would pop up on the screen and you would ask him what they were like in person, he would always speak highly of them much to your annoyance, you wanted gossip not praise. Lewis was never one to speak badly of a person, it seemed like that had not changed.

“Oh shit!” Lewis jumped up as he read the message on his phone. “I’m so sorry baby, but I have an event tonight and I can’t get out of it.”

“It’s fine, go to your event. I could do with some alone time, all this sex has worn me out.”

“You are so annoying, you know that right?” He laughed. “You should come.”

“Yeah right, you know I always hated your events.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Please come, it would mean a lot to me if you did.” He pulled out his puppy dog eyes, the ones you could never resist.

“Lewis, I can’t…I have nothing to wear!” You thought you had found a solution he couldn’t work around, it was too short notice.

“Then you can come with me to be styled, I’ll call ahead and book in a makeup artist too. Any other problems I have to immediately solve for you to join me?”

“Lewis, this is not fair, I-“

“Please.”

“Fine. I’m not going to enjoy it though.”

“Yes, you will. You don’t always have to be this stubborn, you know.”

He tickled your sides, the trick that he had always used to do to get you to loosen up a bit, it always worked.

He wasn’t lying when he said he had stylists, four of them to be precise. Each one of them took it in turns to try a look on the both of you before settling on a black suit for Lewis with a white lace shirt that fell to his knee on one side. He looked breathtaking, you were struggling to keep your eyes off of him as his skin was worked on. For you, they picked a white gown to match his lace shirt. The gown was the most beautiful thing you had ever worn. You originally turned your nose up at white, you always figured that the colour flattered no one but as you stared at yourself in the mirror, in a gown that could quite easily be mistaken for a wedding dress, you felt like a million dollars.

Lewis held your hand from the moment you left the stylists and all through the car journey. You both waited in the traffic line outside of the event, your stomach was awash with nerves, this had all happened so quickly and the enormity of it all was finally hitting you.

“You look so beautiful, have I told you?” Lewis’ words broke your anxious trail of thoughts.

“Yes, about ten times in the car alone. Thank you. You look beautiful too.”

He ran his thumb across the outside of your hand before pulling you in for a kiss.

“Lewis, there are so many paparazzi out there, are you sure about this?” He noticed how tight you had squeezed his hand, he could feel how nervous you were.

“Do you not want to be pictured?” He asked.

“It’s not that, it’s just…well, this is quite the public statement when we haven’t even spoken about what-”

“Baby, do you trust me?” He paused for a moment and then corrected himself. “Actually, don’t answer that. I want to be pictured with you, I want the world to see the person who has held my heart in her hands forever. We don’t need to have a conversation about what we are, we both know, we both can feel it. Let me show you off to the world, please.”

There was no stubbornness after his words, although the nerves never quite settled in your stomach, his hand held yours tightly, pulling your body in as close to his as possible to shield you as you made your way through the hundreds of camera flashes.

Once you were inside, behind the huge doors of the building, Lewis stopped and pulled you to the side, cupping your face in both hands.

“Breathe, baby. Are you feeling okay?” You still aren’t sure how he could tell you had held your breath from the moment you left the car until now.

“I’m so nervous, Lewis. I don’t think I can do this.” You ran a hand across your midriff.

“Look at me.” You brought your eyes up to lock into his. “I will be by your side all night, I promise.”

He pulled you in to kiss your lips gently.

“You look beautiful, just in case I haven’t told you.”

True to his word, he stuck with you. Leading you from one group of people to the next, introducing you as his girl to everyone he met. The event was a launch for a fashion brand he had been collaborating with. What Lewis didn’t tell you about this event was that he would have to go up on the stage for a brief interview. That would mean you would be left alone whilst he did that.

“Just stay right here, focus on me the whole time and I will be done before you can even miss me.” He kissed your cheek as he left you right beside the stage, alone.

Watching Lewis on stage was mesmerising, you heard him speak about all of the ethical work he had been doing with the company, he spoke about his goals with the collaboration. You were so caught up watching and listening as he spoke so confidently on stage you didn't immediately notice the two women who had slid up beside you, their eyes as equally fixed on the man on stage as yours were.

“He looks extra hot tonight.” One of the ladies spoke, breaking your trance.

“Sorry?”

“I was just saying he is hot.” She sipped her champagne glass. “Don’t you think?”

You screwed your face up at her, there was no way she did not know you arrived with him. You knew there was an ulterior motive behind her words, you just hadn’t worked out what it was yet.

“Can I help you with something?”

Both of the ladies looked you up and down in unison, before the one you were in conversation with smirked.

“You’re Lewis’ entertainment this week, right? Where did you meet, Instagram?”

It took every little bit of restraint you had to not punch her in her smug face. You knew they were trying to mock you, to make you feel small and significant in a room full of people with notoriety.

“Actually, Lewis and I go way back.” You felt your blood boiling at the audacity of this woman. You probably should have stopped there, you owed her no justification, she was nobody, but you didn’t, unfortunately. “You sound bitter, sweetie. Did you want me to put in a good word with him for you?”

She exaggerated a fake laugh towards her friend, the exchange was a sharp reminder of high school.

“Oh honey, I don’t need your help. Ari, you were Lewis’ entertainment for a week a few months ago right?”

She was directing this towards the so far mute woman that stood the other side of your three way conversation. She smiled and nodded.

“And I was with him only last week. Look around you, there’s not many women in here that haven't been entertainment for Lewis over the past few years. Enjoy it while you can, honey. He’ll be onto the next one before you even get used to how big he is.”

If you had been able to process her words faster, if they hadn’t absolutely cut through you like a knife, if they hadn’t played into your biggest fears, you would have replied with something witty, something to cut her back. You didn’t. Instead you froze, so still you stood you didn’t notice them both disappear and Lewis take their place, so overwhelmed you were by what you had just heard. You felt humiliated, ashamed that at this party, everyone viewed you as just another one of the many women he had been through. You were to them what you always feared, just another.

“Are you okay?”

You knew he knew something was said just by the tone of his voice.

You didn’t answer him, instead you looked at him and that was enough to tell him all he needed to know. You were far from okay.

He took your hand and led you through everyone and straight back into the car. You only really regained the ability to process words when the car started its journey back to your home.

“I don’t know what she said to you but-” Lewis broke the silence first.

“Yes you do.” Your words were unemotional, blunt.

“Nothing I can say will make it better, I’m sorry.” He sighed, his head hit the headrest as he ran his fingers across his forehead.

“You’re always sorry, aren’t you? Why did you bring me here? Did you want me to be humiliated? It worked, I was humiliated.”

“Baby, please…” He reached for your hand but you brushed him off.

“No, Lewis. Enough.”

The rest of the journey was made in silence, so many of the words unsaid by you both hung in the air but the tension filled silence smothered them to nothing, there was nothing that really needed to be said now.

“Talk to me, please.” Lewis begged as you walked inside your apartment, kicking off the heels that probably cost more than anything else in the room. “Shout at me, scream at me, just talk to me.”

He grabbed your arm, spinning you around to make you face him.

“What do you want me to say?” You waited for him to answer but all you could see on his face was desperation. “I don’t understand why you brought me there. You knew I would be surrounded by a room full of women who had been with you. Why did you do that to me?”

“I am an idiot. I just wanted to show you off. I didn’t think, honestly.” You rolled your eyes at him. “In all honesty, you do this weird thing to my brain. My mind becomes tunnel visioned on you. I didn’t even think about the others, they were such a small insignificant part of my life and you were all I could see. I just wanted to show you off to the world, baby. I wanted you by my side, where you belong. Where you have always belonged.”

Your chin fell to your chest, it was so hard, everything with Lewis was so damn hard, always. He held your chin with his finger, nudging it up to look at him again.

“I love you. I can’t help it, I love you so much.”

Lewis always had such an emotive face, despite the fact that actions may contradict his words, you could tell he was being sincere.

“I love you too.” You admitted, the words falling from your lips, your defence mechanisms were powerless to hold them back in this moment.

Lewis kissed you with such force he left you unsteady on your feet. There was so much passion, so much power behind the meeting of your lips it was electrifying. He ran his hands down the back of your gown, unzipping it so it would fall at your feet. Your hands threw off his suit jacket, your fingers danced around the buttons of his shirt until it fell to join your gown on the floor. His lips traced down your braless chest, his tongue drew circles around your nipple before lightly sucking. Your head fell back as he explored your body further until he reached the thin material of your panties. He pulled them down as far as he could with his teeth before his fingers did the rest of the work.

All at once, he kissed your throbbing pearl, holding you steady on your feet with a firm hand on your behind. Your moans masked the tension in the air surrounding you both as his tongue worked to rid your mind of any anxious thoughts, of any doubts you had about him, it worked so well.

Your hands pulled at his arms, encouraging him back up to his feet from where he was knelt pleasuring you moments ago.

“Please.”

He knew what you meant, he knew that you needed him more than anything at this moment, he knew he could no longer fight his own urges awaiting the perfect moment, this was it. He lifted you up, your legs locked around his waist as he carried you to your bed, placing you down on it as if you were a delicate flower before climbing on top of you. Your tongues battled for dominance as your lips worked against each other. You could feel how hard he was as his length, now free from any material, rubbed against yours. Your core was starving for him, his cock was throbbing for you. He rose to his knees once more, trailing his tip through your sopping wet folds.

“Please.” You mouthed to him once more.

He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed only his tip in. You whimpered, he really stretched you with his size, he was so much bigger than you remembered. He dropped his face back level to yours, resting his forehead on yours as he pushed further into you, your lips grazing as your whimpers escaped. He let out a little moan as he settled fully into your tightness, allowing you to adjust as much as possible to him.

“Are you comfortable baby? Am I hurting you?” He whispered into your mouth between kisses.

You shook your head, unable to speak with the feeling of fullness that overcame you.

He took his time with your body, making love to your body, pleasuring you with every tender motion he made. He checked you were okay a few times, so careful he wasn't hurting you as he worked towards your mutual highs. You watched his face as it contorted with pleasure, the groans he made sent shivers up your spine. As if the moment was written in a book, you both orgasmed at the same time, your undoings synchronised as well as your moans.

He stayed inside of you as he soothed you to sleep with gentle kisses all over the parts of your face he could reach, his hand stroking your thigh as your leg was wrapped over him, holding him tight inside of your warm body.

The brightness of Lewis’ phone screen woke you in the morning. Still wrapped around his body, you could feel how tense he was now despite the release he had only hours before.

“What's wrong?”

“Go back to sleep, baby. We will deal with it later on.”

“No, tell me. What is it?”

He turned his phone screen around so you could see what he was looking at, an email from his PR manager.

‘Hamilton’s reunion marred by revelation.’

‘A reunion in tatters’

‘Playboy Lewis exposed - my story.’

Each headline was decorated with a picture of the both of you leaving the event last night, your faces covered in obvious anger. The last headline shared a picture of that woman, she had sold her story, and now the world would know of your humiliation.

PART FOUR

#lewis #ex #Old Flame

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zoeysdamn · 2 years

Text

There shall be night - Part.6 Morpheus x priestess! reader

[Part.5]

The first days were the hardest. (Y/N) spent almost a week in bed tormented by migraines, headaches and gut-wrenching feelings that made her want to throw up. The doctors couldn’t say what she was suffering from; she was fine and the next second, she was close to passing out and couldn’t stop shivering. Her constant passing in and out of consciousness didn’t even allow her to sleep properly. And that alone was worrying.

After nearly two weeks of convalescence, she started to regain her strength. She wasn’t feeling any better, but she had to do something or else she would end up crazy. She slowly took over her previous nurses' duties, although her fellow colleagues were still quite worried about her. In the short time most of them had now (Y/N), they had never seen her this tired. She brushed all of their worries saying she would get better soon; but then she received a letter from another priestess, informing her that she too had fallen somehow ill.

She frowned as she read the letter. The other priestess, named Celia, informed that she and her younger sister had felt something very disturbing around the same time that (Y/N) had fallen ill. But more concerning than that, none of them had been able to reach out to other dreamers since. That added more worries in (Y/N); she hadn’t felt anything from other dreamers since the incident either but had put it on account of her weakened state.

The night after receiving the letter, she went to bed early. Calming down her breathing, (Y/N) focused on feeling other people’s sleeping states in the building. She tried to grab onto their dreams, to have a focus. Strangely enough, none of the patients at the hospital seemed to dream that night. She frowned. It would seem that she’d had to project herself into a full conscious-dreaming state, then.

Exhaling deeply and refocusing, (Y/N) tried to make a clear space inside her mind. It had been quite some time since she had to find the path to the Dreaming by herself, but it wasn’t quite the novelty for her either. Deep into her meditation, the priestess felt that something was odd. The whole atmosphere of the in-between was so…muddy and dense. No wonder why nobody is dreaming tonight, she thought. Although she had centuries of experience in entering the Dreaming, it still took her an unusual amount of time to get there. When she reached the realm, at last, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Everything was just so dark and…broken. The usual comforting glee and vivid colours were now nothing but dread and dulled tones as she had never seen before. The sweet grass of Fiddler’s green had turned to ashes, and nothing but black sand stood after the palace gates. Speaking of it, (Y/N) couldn’t not notice the deep cracks that run up and down the Horns and Ivory gates, marbling it like a spreading disease. Tears welled up in the priestess’ eyes while she felt her heart break at the seeing of this beloved realm turning into decay. What has been going on here?

Looking around, (Y/N) couldn’t see anyone else but her. Distant shadows merely looked at her on the horizon, but they all seemed to go in the same direction. That’s when it hit her; they were dreams and nightmares fleeing the Dreaming. For a moment she panicked. What could it possibly mean? Hasn’t the Dream Lord forbid them so? She hesitantly kneeled on the dusty ground and laid her hand on the black sand covering it. Concentrating hard, she tried to reach for the presence of the Dream Lord, a sign of him in the realm, anything. When nothing but a void of emptiness answered back, she choked on a sob.

Morpheus was gone.

“Please Celia, hear me out”

“No I won’t (Y/N)!” snapped the young woman while packing her last items in the suitcase. “I won’t spend another minute pretending that I am some devoted priestess to an absent lord”

“It’s not like that” pleaded (Y/N) “It’s just that–”

“Just what? What do you think it is, exactly?” said the soon-to-be ex-priestess with anger “We can barely make it to the Dreaming, and the place is just a giant mess now anyway, you told us so!”

(Y/N) sighed heavily, knowing that she won’t convince her friend to stay. A year has already passed since the Lord of Dreams’ disappearance. For some priestesses, it has seemed that they have reached their breaking point.

Seeing the hurtful expression on (Y/N)’s face, Celia calmed down a little and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve spent three centuries dedicated to the Dreaming, (Y/N). I know it’s far from how long you’ve been serving the realm, but it’s time for me to let go of it and live my own life”

“I understand,” said the older priestess in a small voice “I only wished that you would wait a little more, I promise it’ll soon return to the way it was before, I’m sure he’ll-”

“(Y/N)” interrupted her Celia once more in a firm yet gentle voice “He’s gone. Face it, he’s not going back to the Dreaming…or to any of us”

(Y/N) lowered her head to hide the tears she was trying to hold back. Maybe Celia was right, but for now, it hurt too much to admit it. Taking her in for a tight hug, the former priestess squeezed her friend’s shoulder as a sign of comfort.

“I don’t regret those years helping the dreamers, and I’ll always be here if you need me, (Y/N)” she said softly. “But there’s a time where we need to know to draw the line if something is hurting us, even if that means renouncing our beliefs”

“I know, I know…” mumbled (Y/N) while parting from the hug. “I just can’t…I can’t give up now”.

One of the aftermath consequences of the Endless’ disappearance had been the ever-growing cases of sleep illness or acute insomnia. (Y/N)’s skills had been in high demand by families who begged her to do something to wake their loved ones up, or on the contrary to relieve them with some sleep. But as much as she was skilled both as a doctor and as a priestess, there was only so little she could do. Yet, she couldn’t stop Celia or any other remaining priestess from walking away. The way their faith had broken couldn’t be fixed.

Celia put on her coat, took her suitcase and took one last squeeze of (Y/N)’s hand. Before she walked through the door of her friend’s room at the hospital, she gave her a final look.

“Don’t let your beliefs destroy you, (Y/N). You have done far enough”

(Y/N) only nodded in acknowledgement. But she knew there was no other possible option for her but to hold on tight. She was almost the last of Morpheus’ priestesses, and she had to carry on her faith for all those who couldn’t.

Twenty years later, (Y/N) found herself in the middle of war again. The atrocities committed were like no other and the consequences of the King of Dreams disappearance finally took the best of her. The loss of her connection with the Dreaming had considerably weakened her. The frequent interaction with the sand had been the reason for her longevity; the dependence created by centuries of consumption was a rather violent setback. Her health had gradually declined, as much as she had been forced to take a retreat to lick her wounds. The fact that she couldn’t be with the dreamers who might need her help saddened her deeply, but she knew that in her weak state she couldn’t do much.

So here she was, in a countryside cottage in the liberated side of southern France. She provided nearby villagers with basic medical care, and in exchange, they wouldn’t ask questions about her. Simple as that.

The night was already set but the priestess still struggled to fall asleep. She hadn’t been affected by sleep illness or acute insomnia, but still had a hard time finding sleep some days. Getting up and pulling a knitted blanket over her shoulders she started to prepare some relaxing tea, in order to try to calm her nerves.

A knock on her door stopped her movements. She frowned. In her many, many centuries of being alive, she learned the hard way that strangers knocking on a single woman’s door in the middle of the night were rarely with good intentions. But on the downside, she had never had any troubles with the villagers in this town. A bit reluctantly she unlocked her door. Maybe it was someone who needed help? She thought internally that her old habits would maybe actually put her in danger one day or another.

Cracking her door open she then released a small gasp and threw her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. But there was something unmistakable about that blonde hair and dark binoculars to her.

“Hello, mother”

Without really thinking about it she threw her arms around Corinthian and squeezed him into a tight hug. The nightmare was slightly taken aback, for no one event the priestess before had ever shown such a gesture of affection to him. He awkwardly closes his arms around her, attempting to return the hug.

“I’m so relieved to see you!” she exclaimed while gently separating from the embrace and getting them both inside. “I- how- how did you find me?”

“The Waking world is a wide and interesting place, I couldn’t help myself but enjoy it a little before coming to you” he answered, his natural grin returning to his face at once.

(Y/N) didn’t even raise the fact that he just admitted enjoying a world torn apart by terrifying and barbaric wars and hate. She was just so happy to see the familiar nightmare; to know she wasn’t alone anymore.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she said with a voice tightened by emotions. “I was so afraid you’d just disappear like the others after what happened to the Dreaming…”

He snorted. “Me, disappear? Nah I wouldn’t dare, not now that I’m finally free of his highness’ tantrums”

“What do you mean?” she frowned slightly confused.

“Well you saw the Dreaming, didn’t you?” said casually the nightmare while looking around the place. “You’ve found yourself a nice little home. And,” he returned his attention to her figure, tilting slightly his head to the side “a new look, it seems”

She shyly brushed a white strand of hair behind her ear. One of the consequences of the Dreaming’s decay on her had been her body’s reaction to this loss. Along with her deteriorating health, her own body interpreted this brutal experience as a heavy trauma. A large strand of hair on the side of her head had whitened in a matter of a few days. She thought that even if she didn’t age, maybe she was actually starting to look like her age. But it was also a reminder of the painful absence in her life. Each new strand of white hair reminded her of that.

“Yeah…One result of the Dreaming falling apart” she mumbled, trying hard to ignore his slightly concerned stare. Then she quickly changed the subject, “Do you know something about his absence?” she asked again, a tint of hope in her voice.

The harsh glare the nightmare gave her wasn’t quite what she expected. She was frightened for an instant. She knew that the Corinthian was no gentle being, yet he had never shown any sign of violence toward her.

“I don’t care about him” he spat venomously. “Old bastard got what he deserved, and I got my freedom”

“What do you mean, what happened?” she pressed. “Corinthian, what happened to Morpheus?”

“WHY DO YOU CARE?” he roared, startling her.

(Y/N) took a step back, frightened by the rage outburst of the nightmare. Even if he was wearing his glasses, she could see the fury in his eyes. For the first time in his presence, she truly felt in danger.

“Why do you always care about him, hmm?” asked the nightmare in a harsh tone. “He hasn’t cared about anything but himself, and you’re still faithful to him? For fuck’s sake look at what he had done to you!” he said gesturing to her weakened appearance and whitened hair.

Too frightened to answer, (Y/N) could only witness the rage that the nightmare had nourished for his creator for centuries. Tears of fear were starting to well up in her eyes.

“I’ve spent years seeing you putting so much faith and energy to please him, and what has he ever done to you, uh? Fucking you one time and then returning to being nothing but a selfish prick!”

“Corinthian stop" she whispered in a trembling voice.

"Even when he's not here he's hurting you! And you want me to believe in him because he's my all-mighty creator?" continued Corinthian without listening to her. "I'm despising him. Because he created me only to control me and I'm done with it!"

A heavy silence welcomed his shouts. Trembling and afraid, (Y/N) couldn't move a muscle. She wanted to say something, anything to calm down the furious nightmare, but the words were just stuck in her throat. She could only look at him with terrified eyes as he stood in front of her in all his fury.

But he wasn't done. Even if he had seemed to notice the priestess' distressed state, he had not finished to spit all of his hatred.

"I tried to warn you about him. About how he would always end up hurting you" he sneered. Then for a brief moment, his gaze seemed to soften "But it seems like he always had what I couldn't; freedom and your love"

(Y/N) froze on the spot. As her breath hitched in her throat, a single tear escaped from under the Corinthian's dark binoculars. Breaking out of her stupor she raised her hand to cup his cheek in the most gentle way possible.

"That is not true" she whispered as she brushed away the treacherous tear. "I always had love for you"

Touched by her gesture, the blonde nightmare leaned onto her touch.

"Then why are you refusing to abandon him?" he asked in a surprisingly soft tone. "He's imprisoned, he can't do anything to me or you now. You're free of him now"

She frowned at his words "What do you mean, imprisoned? What happened to him?"

When the look in the Corinthian's eyes darkened she immediately regretted her question. He turned cold and tore himself from her touch as if it had burned him.

"It will always be him first, uh?" he spat. "I should have known"

"Please it's not like that—"

"Oh I think it is exactly like that. I reached out to you because I wanted you to be free. But I was foolish to think you'd actually want to run away with me. I'm just a terrible nightmare after all, mother." his voice was dripping with hate and hurting, and with a last look to the priestess he started to walk away to the door.

"Corinthian wait—" she pleaded while running after him but she stopped abruptly.

Under her throat was pressed a silver blade, sharp and deadly.

No one dared to move. The Corinthian, who was pressing a knife to her throat, had ragged breathing and fire burned behind his dark glasses. (Y/N) on her side, couldn't help but wonder if this nightmare who viewed himself as her son could actually be able to kill her. She knew he could.

"Don't" he warned in a dark tone. "Don't come at me with false affection while you're longing for him"

"I do have affection for you I-" she pleaded but stopped when he pressed the blade harder on her throat and clavicle, drawing blood.

"Liar!" he shouted, although (Y/N) thought she heard a tiny bit of wavering in his tone. "How can you say that you love me when you're still attached to this selfish man? This isn't fair!"

She let out a whimper as the pressure of the knife grew harder on her skin, burying the blade deeper on her skin and drawing even more blood.

"I only wanted to do something right for you" he continued, this time in a voice full of tears. "I just want you to be free"

"Cori…" she whispered in the most calming tone she could. "You're hurting me, please…"

At the hearing of his old familiar nickname the nightmare seemed to realise what he was doing and immediately dropped his stance, releasing the priestess from the pressure of his blade. (Y/N)'s knees buckled under her and she fell on the ground as one of her hands instinctively grabbed her injured throat. She was breathing heavily through the searing pain when she noticed a pair of knees dropping in front of her. Before she could look up she felt Corinthian's arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry" he whispered against her hair. "I'm so sorry for what I've done to you mom."

Mom. Not 'mother' like he had always called her. She didn't hold back her tears but couldn't respond. She wanted to scream so much, but her throat was hurting so damn much.

Then, the nightmare pressed a gentle kiss on her head, and gently letting go of her still trembling frame, got up. He made sure to use the fact that she wasn't looking to wipe the tears that had found their way on his cheeks.

Making his way to the door while (Y/N) was still on the floor, he found himself feeling guilty for the first time. He hated it. He was about to leave the cottage when he stopped himself for a moment. Casting one last glance over his mother figure, his gaze met her tearful one.

"He really won't return any soon, you know," he said in a gentle tone. "And now I'm no better than him." he added with a voice full of guilt. "But if one day you forgive me… I'll be there for you"

With that he shut the door behind him. Long minutes of silence followed his departure. Then, (Y/N) released the most heartbreaking scream one had ever heard.

Moving on was a difficult thing for someone who has no purpose. But (Y/N) didn't want to let her will falter again. It took her another decade to fully regain enough strength to put herself into her new goal: she had to find out what happened to the King of Dreams.

Now that she knew that he was being kept imprisoned somewhere, she had a lead. A tiny, insufficient lead, but it was still something. The information that the Corinthian has let slip was nothing much than that.

Every time she thought of her son-like figure, her face saddened and her hand rubbed instinctively the scar across her collarbone and throat. Healing physically had been quick, but the emotional damage was still here. She had lost his trust and didn't know if she would ever see him again, the reflection of the scar in the mirror reminded her every morning. She had forgiven him a long time ago; she understood his feelings of jealousy and anger toward the Dream Lord. Although it didn't give him the right to hurt her, she knew the drunkenness of his newfound freedom had made him more unhinged than before. Even if she came to him now, she didn't know if this even more feral version of him would hold enough love for her to forgive her. She still loved him as the child she would never have; but she was frightened of him.

As tragic as it sounded, she had come to realise that the Corinthian's freedom had cost her his love.

After having lived throughout ages of witch hunts and inquisition, (Y/N) was always surprised to see how easy it was to find occult literature in the twentieth century. The subject was still taboo but she managed to grasp pieces of information through the years. After learning that Dream of the Endless was imprisoned, she came to the conclusion that there had to be magic involved somehow. She was no witch - even if her abilities to guide people and interpret dreams could have designated her as such - but she figured that no simple human could imprison an Endless with a snap of their fingers.

Since the ‘50, she had searched for every magical or occult story she could hear of. The tiniest whisper about an occult activity, and she was investigating the matter. She had fled to America several times, had been travelling through many countries in hope to gain another clue to the Dream Lord’s whereabouts. But this was a very much time-consuming activity, especially when she also dedicated a lot of her energy to the few dreamers left. Most of them had been able to dream thanks to rogue creations of the Dream Lord, now living their own existence in the Waking world. Sometimes, she came across patients suffering from the sleeping illness for many years. Even if she knew she couldn’t do anything to cure them, she tried to reach for them in their sleep. No response. And no presence of the Dream King either.

At some point, she stopped the research. She had spent four decades looking for any lead on the Dream Lord’s imprisonment and had found nothing. Some secret magic societies had never disclosed their secrets, and she knew by now that there was no use to persist. Plus, she was now officially the last priestess of Morpheus. The last two remaining priestesses along her had died during the ‘70, and to (Y/N) it had been the breaking point. She abandoned the search of her Lord, in order to dedicate all of her time to the dreamers. It broke her heart a little, but she couldn’t let all those people alone in this situation. So she settled in Canterbury, where she had spent a few decades before. She created a place of her own, with a small round structure not far from her place that acted as a sort of temple. With the renewed interest of mystic arts, she wasn’t so scared to show her true beliefs. Some people even came to her for dream-interpretation sessions. It wasn’t much, but at least she could carry on her duties.

She was sometimes thinking about one last lead she could have on Morpheus. It wasn’t a lead on his disappearance per se, but old archives of 1879 had intrigued her. During a trip to London in 1992 she decided half-heartedly to follow this one last lead. Entering the large lecturing amphitheatre discreetly, she slipped on a seat in one of the last rows. The room was almost full, and she patiently waited for the end of the lecture on Shakespeare’s writing style. She smiled softly. She had liked his plays. Once the lecture had finished, she waited for the crowd of students to pack her things and slowly exit the place, and for the pack of the most earnest ones to ask their questions to the professor. Once all of them had left, she made her way to the man who had led the entire lecture.

“Professor Gadling?”

The man with mid-length hair turned to her direction, in the middle of packing his things.

“Yes? Do you have a question about today’s lecture?”

His tone was warm, and his brown eyes held kindness. She wondered how long he had been alive.

“No, I…I think we have a friend in common”

“Well, you’ll have to be more specific, miss” he laughed softly while putting the sling of his bag on his shoulder. “And I doubt I share friends with my students”

“Oh, I’m not a student,” she pointed out gently. “Thought your lecture was really interesting, but I do prefer the first version of Macbeth over the published one of 1623. The first representation without printed text of 1606 held much more passion in my opinion”

Hob Gadling blinked, taken aback by the woman’s words. He knew of this representation of course, he had been there out of curiosity. But no textual sources had ever mentioned it, which could only mean…

“You know him,” he whispered in disbelief. “Don’t you?”

She nodded. The grin that replaced Hob’s confused expression was priceless.

“Do you have time to grab a beer?” he asked “I know just the place”

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at his usual spot at the New Inn. During their trip there, Hob Gadling had explained to the priestess that he actually owned the pub now, after spending so much time there - quite literally.

“So,” began Hob after drinking a long sip of his beer “You know him, hmm?”

“I do” responded (Y/N), actually pleased with this new encounter. Hob was really kind and good company. “Known him since a while back. How about you?”

He let out a hearty laugh “Since the 13th century, more or less. Though I haven’t managed to make him speak more than 10 sentences each time”

“You’re meeting frequently?” she asked before taking a sip of her own beer. Damn, she was glad the quality of the beverage had improved over the years.

“We have a scheduled meeting every hundred year” he nodded “At this very place”

(Y/N) smiled softly. That was maybe why Hob had bought the inn, because it was somehow a place that meant a lot to him. It was quite nice.

Hob gave her a pointed look and lowered his voice for a second.

“You, uh, don’t seem really surprised by all of this timeline. I’m assuming you are too…immortal or something?”

She gave him a reassuring smile “Elongated lifetime, but very much mortal Mr.Gadling. Been here since the fifth century before the common era”

Hob choked on his drink and looked at her with eyes like saucers. “You’re from the fucking Ancient Greece era?? And I thought I was the old one!”

She laughed heartily at his comment. It was nice to have someone to share those “long-life” matters.

“That means he’s been here since that time…” said Hob in a contemplative state. “Wow”

“He’s been here way longer than I” she precised.

A comfortable silence took place, where Hob seemed to be thinking hard. (Y/N) understood the time needed to let this sink, it was quite the information. Then, Hob put both his elbows on the table, looking serious.

“What is he, exactly? We’re both humans, but it somehow doesn’t make sense that he’s one…is he?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, surprised.

“Tried to bribe it out from him many times, but never got an answer”

“Then it’s not my place to reveal this to you. I’m sorry”

He shrugged, not seeming upset by her answer.

“It’s okay, I’ve figured as much. But I won’t be so sure he’ll tell me if I see him again. After all we’re not friends” he added in a slightly bitter tone.

“What do you mean?” she frowned. “I thought you two were…acquaintances”

He nodded slowly. “We are. But last time I saw him uh, I called us friends and he took it pretty badly.”

(Y/N) casted her eyes down. It was hurtful to admit it, but it was something she could picture Morpheus to do. He was still prideful among humans, even with old acquaintances it seemed.

“Soooo the two of you are what?” asked Hob in a lighter yet curious tone. “Friends? Related? Exes?”

She blushed slightly and took another sip of her beer to cover up.

“No, no we’re not exactly…bound that way” she tried to explain “I’m just a very old…acquaintance of his”

Hob didn’t seem convinced, but figured that she wouldn’t tell more and the subject and didn’t press the matter further. For what (Y/N) was deeply grateful. Another silence passed, then Hob raised another question.

“How is he?” he asked seriously, with a tint of worry in his voice. “He hadn’t shown up at our usual meeting last time, is he…still mad at me?”

(Y/N) shook her head “I don’t know” she whispered. “I haven’t heard a word from him since the first world war”. Her gaze met Hob’s surprised and worried eyes. “I’m worried something happened to him, Hob. You were my last lead on his whereabouts”

He reached out for her hand across the table and gave it a supporting squeeze. It seemed that both of them had lost someone they held dear.

Another spring had passed, then another, and another. Now in the beginning of the 21st century, the life of (Y/N) was quite calm. She woke up everyday, almost didn’t look anymore at the white lock on the side of her head (thankfully people now thought it was a fashion statement), spent a large time of her day at the Canterbury university dispensing lectures about psychological self care, returned to her small altar to meditate, and went to bed for a dreamless sleep. It was as exciting as some eras she lived in, but at least it was peaceful. And her memories gave her company.

The sun was almost setting and she was lightening some candles at the altar when a gust of wind swirled into the room, making the flames shiver. It wouldn't have been that concerning to her if a rush of power hadn’t suddenly submerged her entire being, making her stumble. Blinded by this unexpected outburst for a second (Y/N) took support on a nearby pillar, mind foggy and confused. Then, she realised what the return of this familiar and long-gone force was and tears of relief welled up in her eyes.

He’s finally back.

[Part.7]

A/N: First of all, know that I’m absolutely not sorry for 1) the lenght of this chapter, what the actual fuck and, 2) THE ANGST (I actually shed a tear while writing the Corinthian and reader confrontation, I think I kinda derserve it lmao)

I honestly debated a long time before writing the fight between the two of them ; in the “original” version of the priestess! reader’s story, he was supposed to harm her much more than that because she wouldn’t join forces with him, but there wasn’t their mother/son relationship. I think I kinda prefer the version on this chapter (bc he’s just a murderous baby)

Hope you’re all doing okay (especially after this angst-punch in the face), take care of you ♥

Taglist: @endlessdreamqueen @boofy1998 @layla2-49 @witchxlove @ londonbrandcandy

@pearlstiare

Plz tell me if I have forgot you in the taglist

#dream x reader #dream of the endless #Dream of the endless x reader #lord of dreams #the sandman #the sandman netflix #Morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #reader insert #no beta we die like men

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walalppper · 2 years

Text

Deceived - Rafe Cameron x (Y/n)

Dark Rafe Cameron x Reader. (Reader is 19 years old) warnings/tags: 18+, obsessive!Rafe, violence, physical/verbal abuse, toxic relationship.

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Chapter I: The encounter

It was mid-july in Outer Banks, and the sky changes from minute to minute. From orange to yellow to pink as the sun goes down, slipping quickly behind the line of the horizon. It’s been a while since there’s been a quiet time in the town, but with the supposed killer stated as dead and with the Peterkin's and Cameron's family mourning the death of their loved ones, people were slowly trying to go back to normal.

Rafe on the other hand seemed to only get worse with every minute that passed, he always had his eyes on her, just didn't have the best approach possible after everything that happened. She was unique after all. He missed the crazy days he had with her, the hot summer nights they spent together, the smile she gave him each time they were together, he even missed their fights, everything.

She was the only good thing he could have all to himself. However, the real reason the known ‘power couple’ broke up was because of his dangerous drug abuse, followed by multiple verbal and physical fights.

It was the first time in a while since he left his house after the incident with Susan Peterkin, the former town sheriff. She was investigating the criminal activities around town, leading up to being shot in the back by John B. At least that was what half of the island thought and said, blaming John B for the murder. The other half would either not care or blame Rafe Cameron instead, the kook king.

Everyone knew he had issues, especially under the influence of certain substances, but would rather believe a Pogue kid would kill someone other than a kook. Even though he had his name clean, he could always feel someone talking about him behind his back, causing him to live in a constant feeling of paranoia.

The party into which Topper and Kelce invited him to go was not what he was in the mood for, looking around he could see the presence of those Pogues. He hated these types of parties, which was the reason he avoided the Bonfire for a reason.

He was already feeling tipsy from the drinks his friends made him drink, it started to be a strange feeling. It was almost like he was watching himself from inside his own head, replaying the same memories he had from past parties, when everyone called him the “Kook King”, the nights he’d spend on a bender, drinking and sniffing everything people would put in front of him. That was right after their breakup, it destroyed him.

He was just so tired, distant in his own thoughts until he saw her in the room. He could never forget the features that made her so beautiful to him, how elegant she looked in that outfit, and her empathic and charismatic persona he fell for, but it was less than a second before she disappeared from his gaze.

Looking around desperately he shoves past the people in his way, pushing them out of his way like mere plastic toys.

‘I have to find her.’ ‘She was just here.’ His mind was racing back and forward.

‘Where the fuck is she-’

He stopped in his tracks, locking eyes with her. Those beautiful (eye /color) eyes that made him always feel at peace, he truly missed her, and he was sorry. But that was the hard part, admitting to everything and apologizing.

His shoulders tensed, just like the rest of his body. This was the first time he’d see her in person since their breakup, which was followed by multiple dumb decisions from his side, like screwing around other girls, not that they meant anything to him, they were mere distractions.

Making his way toward her, he nervously fixed his collarbone. Taking a sip of the drink she was holding. "Haven't seen you in a while." She said, in the most calming tone that always made him feel the butterflies fly around his stomach.

“Could tell you the same.” He remarked back, trying to seem like his self-assured self. Tracing up and down her body with his gaze, remembered all the sensitive and tender parts he used to touch her. “Thought I’d see you wearing an orange jumpsuit by now.” She joked, obviously under the effect of alcohol. He knew her too well, he chuckled, looking down at his shoes and then back up to meet with her eyes. “You know they’d never catch me.” “I’m sure.” She answered back.

In between the Sheriff Peterkin situation, she believed in him, even after having some doubts because of his drinking and drugs problem, but deep down she never thought he could actually murder someone.

The only one that knew the truth about what happened was Topper. ‘Shit- Topper.’

The sudden thought hit him, what if Topper got too drunk and eventually slipped something he shouldn’t? He had to find him, but (Y/n)’s here, with him.

“You’re here with your friends? I can take you home if you want-” She shook her head as no. “I’m with my boyfriend.”

He felt his heart sink onto the ground. ‘Her what?’ ‘How could she?’ ‘Why would she?’ His mind was starting to race around again, letting out a small nervous laugh he asked, “Your what?”. ‘She has to be joking’

“Boyfriend.” She looked to her side, pulling on her jacket nervously, she already knew he wouldn’t react the best way. Following her gaze, he looked at him. Jason, the most known athlete in Outer Banks, everything Ward wanted in a son, great.

Anger was starting to fill him up, he knew damn well this was enough to make him do something he’d regret. Quickly grabbing her by the wrist he took her outside, pushing her against the door of his car. Wincing by the sudden impact against it, she exclaimed. “Rafe- Ouch, you’re fucking hurting me-”

“It’s been less than a fucking month and you already switched me for fucking Jason?” He ran his hand caressingly through his hair. “Your standards got lower.”

“Lower?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

She was right, they weren’t together, but he couldn’t control his inner urges. Especially when she’s involved in them, but he had to. This was no place to start a fight after everything that happened recently, he knew this wasn’t the moment for impulsive behavior, after all, he was still a suspect for the police.

Shaking his head as no, he stared at her. “It doesn’t, why would it, right?”

He thought of her so much it was driving him crazy, he couldn’t be apart from her anymore. But he couldn’t control it. Grabbing her face forcingly, he looked her dead in the eyes. “You’re just a fucking slut, just like you were before you met me.”

Tears were starting to form on the verge of her (e/c) eyes. She couldn’t handle him doing this to her again, she couldn’t handle going through everything she went when they were together again. “You haven’t changed one bit.” She said in a lowered voice, keeping eye contact with him.

“(Y/n)?” They both turned their attention to the voice calling her name. It was Topper.

Gaining back his senses, Rafe looked back at (Y/n), letting go of her chin he tried to think of something to say to her. But no words left his mouth. Getting away from him she quickly walked away from both men, not even looking back at Rafe, that once again ruined his chance of doing things right.

“Come on, I’ll…I’ll get you home.” Topper offered, pulling Rafe inside his car and driving him away from that place. He always knew what was going on in their relationship but always chose to stay quiet about it.

Looking nervously at Rafe, already expecting him to snap back at him, he swallowed hard before asking. “Do you wanna talk about what just happened or…”

“Just fucking drive me home Topper.”

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Chapter II (Available Soon)

English is not my first language but i hope you enoyed :P

#rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smut #obx netflix #obx x reader #obx season 3 #outer banks #obx fic #obx

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Note

She is angry at Steve, she’s spiteful of the marriage that he forced her into but she doesn’t hate him. She finds that she can’t truly hate him despite what he’s done because that autistic type that she met at art school is still there—though its wrapped in a deadly shell

Please show us a glimpse of the autistic type Steve that reader has had the privilege to experience... I'm dying to see what made her attracted to him in the first place... I love a softie Steve with angsty shell.. was he like a cute handsome guy with a shy smile, let her sit beside him in the class??

How soft does he go for her? Literally this is killing me with anticipation🥰🥳

“Our live model for the day is a student of dance and music at the school. She has been dancing since she was four and has spent most of her formative years until university dancing and playing the violin as well as the piano.” The professor may have been speaking but Steve was focused on the live model who was standing at the front of the room.

His eyes were settled only on her as she dropped her bag to the floor and slowly unzipped her sweater to reveal the bodysuit she had on beneath and delicate fluttering skirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face and secured with a light coloured scrunchie bound to keep everything together.

“Y/N L/N.” the professor announced her name and Steve had stood from his stool and peered around the canvas on his stand, his blue-green eyes taking in every inch of the delicate little songbird that was bent at the waist and stretching.

He felt every part of his body respond from the rush of blood that shot south, the twisting jerk of his heart when it began fluttering endlessly, and the state of his mind that was focused on commuting your image to memory.

“Y/N is going to be doing four traditional dance moves and you can choose one of four to sketch. Every few moments Y/N will switch from one position to the next allowing you to get a constant influx.” The teacher had clasped her hands and stood off to the side as you stepped up, and had struck the first position you had chosen.

“Arabesque.” Steve heard you speak as he saw you move, gracefully raising one hand while the other was bent behind you and straight along with your right leg.

“Elevé.” You had dropped from the first position you chose to the second, where you had risen from the balls of your feet to stand on the tips of your toes with your arms bent and your fingers grazing your waist.

“Passé.” You had shifted again, resting on one foot while the other was bent and pressed against the inside of your knee, both your arms raised above your head until your fingertips touched.

“Glisse.” You had completed your final move with a soft glide that had ended with you bending your knees out in a position he had thought was fifth.

“The four dance positions you can choose from,” the classes professor had spoken while the sounds of charcoal and sketching pencils had already been picked up.

Steve watched and waited for you to begin the first move you had shown the class, choosing the elegant position because of how it had made you look. You looked breathtaking, almost as if you were truly a fairy-like creature coming to grace their world with a little of your majestic charm.

He found himself paying more attention to you and the way you effortlessly passed from one move to the next while harbouring the appearance of some otherworldly angel.

Steve had to mentally throttle himself to regain focus on what he was supposed to be doing currently, and started to stroke the charcoal against the canvas. His touch was soft and light when he sought to capture the image of you in your arabesque position.

He had worked intensely to truly capture your likeness in all its beauty upon the canvas. Steve had raised his head and studied you, he watched you as you rest for a moment, your eyes fluttering closed and your back arched as you stretched behind you.

You were graceful, you were breathtaking.

“…a five minute break. Grab some water and take a few minutes before returning.” The professor had spoke, and Steve was on the move.

He had set his charcoal down and stood from the stool, directing his attention upon you and your image as you bent to rummage in your bag. Steve had spoken to no one, not before he had approached you and stood a few feet to the left.

Despite everything he was, everything he was going to be, he felt bashful. He felt heat rising in his cheeks, his throat tightening the longer he had stood there trying to break the silence.

“You’re talented.” He finally confessed, and you had raised your head with a small airy sound of surprise falling from your lips.

“Oh,” your eyes had grown wider at the broad and strong appearance he had cut, “t-thank you.”

Your hand stilled when you found what you were looking for, and as you stood Steve had stepped forward. Your eyes had grown as wide as they could when you cranes your neck and looked up at him with parted lips and an air of surprise hovering around you.

“Grant,” he held his hand out for you to shake and you’d placed yours in his.

“Y/N.” you had allowed him to shake your hand, and he could see the observational queue of you noting the difference in the size of your hands. “L/N.”

“You’re a beautiful dancer. You move so fluidly.” He had complimented you and your technique, gauging the response to his praise and the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you blinked.

You liked the praise, at least you liked it from him.

“Thank you, again.” Steve had felt the loss of your hand and the step back you had taken as the professor urged her students to head back to their seats.

Steve had turned and walked away, taking another look over his shoulder to where you were preparing for your chosen second position. He had gazed back at his canvas, as the work he had captured and then he felt his lips tugging into a smile.

“This won’t be the last time I draw you, little ballerina.”

#soft!dark!steve rogers #soft!dark!mob!steve rogers x reader #soft!dark!mafia!steve rogers

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laurelsofhighever · 6 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

... actually on a Wednesday! And I have stuff to share! Thank you for the tag @effelants 💖

First, from Only A Dream Of Summer, my Maric x OC fic that I'm actively working on. It's a lot of fun to write

Time passed in a haze as the castle waited on Cailan’s recovery, suspended in glorious midsummer, with the first of the season’s swifts darting for insects outside the sickroom window and the hum of bees a constant presence among the rambling roses. Inside, however, the weather was an unwelcome intrusion. The blaze of Solace sunshine left the air thick and humid, baking to the point where a constant supply of ice had to be brought up from the cold room to be applied to the prince’s wrists. Though he still tired easily, he chafed against his confinement, and what little time Maric had to spare from the regular missives of kingdom business his advisors sent him was spent trying to keep him entertained. In some ways, it felt like the first opportunity he had had to be a proper father. Without the bevvy of tutors, retainers, and servants required for a royal upbringing, the simplicity of the joy he found in the hours spent by his son’s side reminded him of his own mother’s indulgence, trying to compensate for the constant danger that had hung over their heads. Life now was a dream compared to the old days of the rebellion; he had worked hard to make it so, scrubbing Orlesian influence from the land and coaxing its people back into prosperity, all in the hope that the kingdom Cailan would one day inherit might never know worse suffering than the bite of a hard winter – and that the day of that inheritance would still be a long way off. Movement in the room roused him from his unexpected slumber into a shadowed twilight scented with jasmine. His shoulders popped as he stretched in his chair and cast a bleary eye about for the source of the disturbance. “I did not mean to wake you, Your Majesty,” Gwawr said. “And I didn’t mean to doze off…” In his hands, a letter crinkled – a response from Loghain, entreating him once again to turn away Florian’s envoy as if the word of a king did not count as final if he was badgered about it enough. “Something troubles you?” the healer asked, as she went through her usual motions to check Cailan’s wellbeing.

Second, from As The World Falls Down, my Prince Alistair AU. I'm still working on it, but since it's going to be so much longer than Summer, it's on a backburner for now, and I've left them on the road:

“Lothering,” Alistair huffed when they finally paused for breath on a bluff overlooking the village. Thin banners of smoke rose from the hunched cluster of buildings in the settlement proper, and from the damp campfires dotted between the mass of grubby tents that spilled out over the southern boundary like flotsam from a shipwreck. “Pretty as a painting.” He shot a sidelong grin to Rosslyn on his left. “I almost didn’t think we’d make it.” “It’s a real sight, isn’t it?” The new, reedy voice came from just off the road, from a small campsite set far enough back into the bushes that any travellers heading north would miss it on the way past. The thin, gaunt man it belonged to stepped out onto the path in front of them. Four others emerged after him, in front and behind to block their path, all in similar states of beggary with weapons drawn. Rosslyn’s own hand reached for her sword at the same moment Alistair stepped closer to guard her flank, the shiver of airalong her spine telling her that Morrigan, too, readied for an attack. She hoped it would not come. Though her shoulder had knitted together far faster than should be expected even with the aid of magical healing, the dull twinges that flared with every movement warned of the permanent damage that could be done if she got in a fight before the muscles fully recovered. “Let us pass,” she commanded from beneath her hood. At her side, Cuno growled his own threat, the sound a low vibration against her leg.

Tagging forward, if you're so inclined: @ellenembee @asaara-writes @serenpedac @ooachilliaoo @thelionheartedo3 @cleverblackcat

#wip wednesday #dragon age #alistair theirin #maric theirin #alistair x warden #warden x alistair #alistair x cousland #cousland #rosslyn cousland #my writing

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silvermaplealder · 10 months

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Okay so by request of @gothamslostboy I'm going into my rampage about how due to greed and the desire to mass produce (like cutting out artists by using AI generated things) we lose important knowledge and whole trades.

I went to college and accidentally studied agroecology. My main focus turned to oxen, which is a term quite a lot of people don't even know today. So to start, oxen are working cattle that are 4+ years old. Working steers are anything younger than 4 years that are training to be oxen. I was given the opportunity to raise my own team in college. These were my boys:

Working steers/cows and oxen were a vital part of life for thousands of years. We've been working alongside these gentle giants for countless generations, and yet now you never see them anymore. I'm certain you've seen horses pulling carriages, or people riding horses, but oxen and working cattle were used for these purposes too. Horses are much faster than cattle, but they are more flighty and are very expensive to care for. Oxen on the other hand are slower, stronger, and tend to be more docile. And we can't forget that we get a majority of our dairy products from cattle.

So... what happened? The Industrial Revolution happened. Before the IR, all cattle were considered triple purpose: beef, dairy, and draft. Though now, if you say triple purpose you'll get a few laughs. "Dual Purpose" is the new term because draft isn't used anymore, at least not in the US. With the demand for greater production in the late 1700's, there became two different types of cattle: beef and dairy. Horses could outspeed oxen any day in a field. There became a steady decline of the 'family milk cow' which were also used for draft work. Farmers turned horses for working fields while using beef and dairy for production.

And then we lost the horses too once the tractors came along. There had been so much development in various equipment for oxen to make them more comfortable. People spent their whole lives working with these animals. They passed their knowledge onto their children. But with changing times, oxen weren't the best suited to keep up anymore with the demands. Even now, dual purpose breeds are becoming rarer and rarer.

If you look up oxen yoke makers in the US, you'll only find a handful. Older folks who are still trying to pass on the tradition. If you look up oxen harness makers in the US, you'll find 1. Just one. Otherwise, oxen folk now have to rely on making everything themselves or refurbishing old equipment. You know there used to be oxen shoers? Like horses, oxen used to wear shoes. Good luck finding someone to shoe your ox. It's almost impossible now. In a recent survey, some states said that they didn't have any farmers left that use oxen, or even own oxen. Though this can't be confirmed due to many folks that may not have had access to the survey.

With dwindling interest, and the constant loss of folks with the knowledge, oxen working in the US is almost unheard of. You'll find it at living history museums still. Some county fairs in the North East still have oxen pulls. There are some organizations that are still trying to preserve the knowledge, but access to land and equipment becomes harder and harder for younger folks.

This is the fate that other trades face. As artists are being pushed away by AI generated things, there will be a loss of talent. Techniques will be lost. Styles will be lost. It might not be our generation. But it could be the next. Or the one after that.

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writeyouin · 2 years

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Bruno Madrigal X Male-Reader – Heart’s Refuge - Chapter 19

An Unexpected Conversation

A/N – Sorry about the long wait for this chapter everyone. I was tired. So, it has been 6 months and I'm back. I still have 2 jobs and loads of writing work for Halloween, but I will do my best to complete this story.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Taglist: @mobuaddiction@tangled-cl0wn-core@constant-state-of-self-discovery

Female Version Here

Chapter Text

Bruno watched you sleep, a smile tugging at his lips as the first rays of sunlight kissed your skin. He couldn’t believe all the good things that were finally happening to him and seeing that you had spent the night with him, instead of retreating to the nursery warmed his heart. Perhaps you were finally ready to admit to his family that you and he were more than just friends, and he was ready to scream it from the rooftops so all Encanto knew about it.

He reached out, stroking your cheek with a calloused hand, entirely awed by the fact that he could. Seeing you there was almost like he was looking at one of his visions, but where those were far away and unobtainable, you were right next to him, entirely real and tangible.

Bruno smiled again and got out of bed, dressing for the day. If it was up to him, he would have stayed in bed with you forever, but he had things on his mind and they couldn’t wait. Finally, you stirred, and Bruno perched on your side of the bed while you woke up.

“Good morning, mi Corazón,” He greeted you with a warm smile, seemingly more jittery than usual as anticipatory excitement coursed through him.

It was good to see him like that and you couldn’t help smiling; his energy was contagious.

“Good morning, mi Vida,” You replied, leaning up to grab his shirt and pulling him into a prolonged kiss.

Bruno sighed into the kiss, momentarily forgetting himself and everything he wanted to talk with you about. He almost reached down to hold you closer, but he knew if he did then he wouldn’t leave his tower at all. Forcing himself to have some restraint, Bruno was the first to pull away, though it was obvious that he was still completely enamoured with you, especially as you were, in his bed with the blanket hoisted up to cover your chest.

A blush peppers his cheeks and he was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He reached down to pass you your discarded night clothes and waited while you dressed, then when you were decent, he asked, “Can we talk for a minute?”

You thought about what it would look like if you were late sneaking back to your room. If anyone saw you exiting Bruno’s tower in your night clothes, your hair a mess, and other more obvious signs of the night’s activities on display, you were certain that it would be more trouble than it was worth. Yet, knowing that to leave would crush the glistening hope in Bruno’s eyes was too much to bear. He was keeping your relationship secret, per your request, and that was already a lot to ask of him.

“Sure Bruno, of course,” You answered, matching his sincerity, and throwing caution to the wind for the moment.

Bruno seemed relieved as he exhaled a shaky breath. He held out his hands for you and you took them both in yours, sitting back down on the edge of the bed with him.

“I need you to know that every minute we’ve spent together…” Bruno tried, then when words failed him he sighed and started again, “Look, I know that things have been rough for you since coming here, and that we’ve had our ups and downs, but when I’m with you, all I’m thinking about is how I can’t wait to see you smile, or hear you laugh, or even share the hard times with you, just so I can try to make them a little bit easier for you.”

“Bruno,” You whispered, but he shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t done.

“You make everything better, and it’s like life before was just bearable, but now it’s more than that. Now, I’m really living. You listen to me, you take an interest in the things I like, Dios, you even like my rats. These last two months have made me realise that I can’t stand the thought of being without you, (Y/N), because to be without you… It would be worse than anything I endured for the past ten years.”

Bruno chuckled as he realised that he was crying. He hurriedly wiped away the tears with the palms of his hands. Since he seemed unable to continue his speech, he stood up, gesturing for you to stay where you were for the moment.

“Look, I planned to keep this a surprise for a little while longer, but I made something for you.”

“You did?” You put your hand to your mouth, covering the beaming smile that was growing; so very few people had made you gifts in the past so whatever it was that Bruno had made you, you were sure to love. Knowing how creative he could be, you weren’t sure what to expect. It could have been any number of things, from a painting to a sculpture, or even a vision, though you doubted it was the latter.

“It’s nothing fancy,” He explained hurriedly. “And much less than you deserve, and I kind of wish that I could have gotten you something better because you deserve only the best and-”

“Bruno,” You interrupted his anxious rambling before he could go any further into his self-deprecating spiral. “It’s from you. Whatever it is, I know I’ll love it.”

Bruno nodded, feeling more confident than before, but he still requested that you close your eyes all the same. You did as asked, suppressing a bubble of excited laughter that threatened to escape your throat.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” You asked, upon hearing the opening and closing of a drawer followed by some shuffling.

“Not yet… Just a second more… Okay, now.”

You opened your eyes, and your smile, once joyous and wide, froze on your face as you beheld the sight before you. Bruno was down on one knee, holding a glazed clay ring out. It had been beautifully painted with delicate hourglasses, and in the centre sat a modest shard of green Jade which you suspected had been chipped off one of his visions.

You struggled to breathe past the lump in your throat, and speaking was even harder, “Bruno, what- I-”

“(Y/N), please just listen,” Bruno said gently. “I know that we haven’t been together long, but our relationship was never what anyone would call conventional, so I think that it’s safe for me to ask this. I want you to stay with me forever, and I want to be able to tell my family about us.”

“Will you marry me?”

You stared at Bruno dumbfounded, and he held the ring a little higher, the look of pure adoration for you never leaving his face.

You hopped down from the bed, forcefully wrapping your arms around Bruno’s neck, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. Bruno almost fell back from the force of it, but he managed to stay balanced, holding the ring securely in his fist as he wrapped his arms around your back.

“Is that a yes?” He chuckled, confidently.

You cried harder at that, and Bruno faltered, wondering if all proposals were so emotional.

“(Y/N)?” He breathed.

You clung onto the back of his shirt, balling the material tightly in your fists.

“I’m sorry- I just-” You gasped between your tears. “No.”

Bruno pulled away from you, holding you at arms-length so he could look into your eyes.

“(Y/N)?” He said your name like a plea, his eyes glossy with an expression of bewildered pain.

You shook your head defeatedly, “I’m sorry, Bruno. I can’t marry you.”

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#encanto #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert #disney #hearts refuge #heart's refuge #part 19 #chapter 19 #an unexpected conversation

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