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mellowsaturns · 11 months

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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themaclean · 17 days

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We Don't Have To Be Friends (2/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 4,244 words, Post Season One -- character study with porn. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

If Cooper were an honorable man, he wouldn’t have yanked Lucy’s hair like that.

That thought had buried itself deep into the back of his mind as he wound and unwound the stained rag in his hand. He remained on the marked table in the corner of the hotel room, the evening air musty but quiet. Dogmeat had taken to the bathroom when they’d arrived and Lucy…

His brow twitched as he adjusted his shotgun, his thumbnail dug into the etchings on the side.

Fuckin’ Lucy.

His hand flexed at the thought of her soft hair tight in his grip.

If he were half the man he’d been before the bombs fell, he’d never have done it. Never even thought to do it.

But then she’d slung the word ‘family’ around and started making assumptions about his life. Call it gut instinct or benign cruelty, whatever you like, but he needed her to back off. He didn’t have the words to make her back down, as everything became a debate or a conversation like she needed to know every little thing.

Without words, there aren’t many options left.

He yanked her hair to make his point and shoved her away just as quickly. She hadn’t cried or shouted or done much of anything. She just gawked at him like a child who’d never been scolded, and then she shot off to the bathroom.

Lucy hadn't come out of the bathroom yet.

But then the mental math kicked in, of how the world is how it is now, and it’s hard to care much about honor. It’s that back-and-forth of how he could have done much worse and how he’d gone easy on her, really.

He flexed his fingers around the phantom ache in his palm, that whipcrack decision to push into her space. Worse yet, it wasn’t anger or frustration that spurred him on. It was the underlying hunger that held a light hand against the back of his head, pushing him towards the living.

He thought he might bite into her, to savor her, but he hadn’t.

This time, at least.

During his stint as a Hollywood heartthrob, his friends traipsed with whatever starlet they could get their talons into; Cooper loved Barb. Never strayed, never so much as looked at another woman with intent. He’d been the model husband and kept himself trained on Barb.

All for her, everything for her.

He loved her so much he'd been blind to the shit she'd helped make happen within Vault-Tec. That's its own phantom ache, how being a loving husband rippled out to the end of America as he knew it.

But he isn't in the old world. He isn't even married to Barb; he hadn't been since before the bombs dropped. Divorce, alimony, public humiliation, the loss of his status after Vault-Tec caught on that he’d heard too much.

And yet...

After two hundred years, it’s not living anymore; can’t be. You get numb to the tastes and smells of things and nothing is new anymore. There’s no novelty, no experience you haven’t had. Except in how people die, he supposed. But the day-to-day of life for two hundred years became something else a long while ago.

It's pure instinct, doing whatever you think will best serve you in the moment. Everyone you know dies, and you stop attending funerals or even sticking around long enough to see if they leave flowers for the fallen. Not really any flowers anymore, come to think of it.

With enough time, you can forget most people.

Maybe that was what made the empty thoughts so tempting -- the ones that told him to bite down on Lucy's throat and tear her apart. It wasn't like the zombie shit you see in the movies where it's a switch, where you die and come back with a hunger for brains.

That hunger guided him, even now.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Cooper’s jaw ticked to the side, his head twitched to shake out the instinct to growl. “No.” His gaze flicked up from the shotgun to Lucy’s slim silhouette in the cracked bathroom door.

“You can’t just say no,” Lucy said with a scoff. “Look, I clearly overstepped and upset you. So, I’m sorry if I was prying or pushy. I won’t bring up — that, again.”

Cooper rested his forearms on the edge of the table. The girl had the survival instincts of a goddamn cat curled up in a wheel well in the middle of winter.

“So, I’m sorry. Do you accept my apology?”

“Y’ain’t ever let a thing lie in your life, have you, girl.”

Lucy gave a tight-lipped smile and a slight shrug as if that were a point of pride. “When you’re in a vault, it’s kind of hard to hold a grudge. You have to see people every day and depend on one another, so you — you have to talk it out.”

Cooper’s gaze rolled to the ceiling as he begged for whatever powers above to give him strength. He let the silence sit between them as he clicked his shotgun back into place and ensured a few rounds were ready to go.

He roughly scratched at his neck before he popped his hat back on. His joints clicked and cracked as he got to his feet, the day’s aches setting in. In a few long strides, he set his shotgun on the bedside table.

In all this time, he refused to look at her, even as she implored him with those wide hazel eyes.

“We’ll take shifts,” he said, flat on his back in one heavy thud. He angled his hat over his face, though he could see the door to the room if he tilted his head just right.

“You can’t go to sleep mad.”

Cooper exhaled into the hollow of his hat. “I ain’t mad.”

“You are.” Before Cooper could do much about it, she’d snatched his hat off his face. She stood beside the bed, his hat held hostage as she stared down at him. “I can tell.”

“Yeah, I’m startin’ to get mad; you’re onto something,” Cooper shoved himself onto his elbows, unhappy with her looming over him. He shifted his weight, and his legs snapped out over the edge of the bed. She didn’t have a chance to adjust, now stuck between his knees.

Lucy held his hat high as if he couldn’t stand up and take it back from her. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to have a hostage situation; I just need to know we’re okay.”

“Why’s it so fuckin’ important to you, that we be friends or — or somethin’?”

“Why’s it important..?” Lucy made a raspy noise from the back of her throat as she tried to hold the hat higher. It was pathetic to watch, in all honesty. As if it were something worth bargaining for. “Because it’s about teamwork and caring about each other. And we have to trust each other.”

“Trusting you to keep watch while I sleep is plenty enough to show I trust you,” Cooper said, his tone flat. He wasn’t sure he should trust her now, given how erratic she was being over something as petty as him accepting her apology.

“What if—“ Lucy rolled her lips between her teeth, something painful going on behind her eyes. “What if you decide you don’t need me around and leave me? Then what do I do?”

Cooper caught her hip in the flat of his palm, and his fingers dug into her cotton-clad flesh.

“It happened before, and — and don’t think I forgot how you wouldn’t give me water, and how you sold me for drugs, and — I know there’s going to be a day when we fight and you decide I’m worth more as a bartering chip than as… As someone that you care about.”

“Give me my hat back, darlin’.”

Lucy strained her arm into the air, her gaze fixed down at him. “Just, promise me you aren’t going to hold a grudge and… And that we’re a team, or co-workers, or something.”

Cooper felt his patience hit critical mass as the hand on her hip shifted her weight to pivot her onto the bed. It wasn’t hard to do, to shift his free hand to her throat as he hovered above her.

“Now, darlin’, I hate to say it, but you are bein’ five kinds of hysterical right now.” His grip on her throat wasn’t hard, with most of his weight on his knees and by her hip. His index finger toyed with the hard column of her throat, gentle enough to not hurt her.

Lucy looked strangely relieved by the shift in position. All the prey fear in her eyes had simmered down to something patient and distant. It was like she’d been waiting for him to snap, to turn back into this facet of the man she knew. All the anticipation fizzled out to a stern word and a hand on her throat.

“All I said was,” Cooper adjusted, a deep breath taken for the sake of softness. “Don’t talk about my family. Simple rule.”

Cooper could tell it took everything in her to stay quiet, given how her muscles twitched beneath his calloused fingertips.

And then things shifted around him like he hadn’t been able to see the parts for what they were. They were alone, for one, in a cheap room in a glorified brothel. It’d been weeks since he’d been in anything close to a real bed, albeit moldy and threadbare. Lucy was pressed against him, their knees notched together, one beside the other.

Cooper couldn’t think when he’d last been in this situation. It might’ve been when he still had hair or a nose. The murky haze of shapeless bodies couldn’t compete with the warm-blooded woman with frantic abandonment issues beneath him.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?

Lucy had a damn complex about being abandoned again. Hard to miss a wound that he himself bore. His jaw clicked as he caught the faint smell of soap and sweat on her skin. The cavernous gap where his nose had once been couldn’t pick up much, a small mercy, but it hung in the air between them.

Maybe it was because of a human scent, something about that ghoulish instinct to track down beautiful things and shred them with his teeth.

Lucy didn’t move to push him back, and he didn’t want to move much either. She hadn’t been so quiet since he’d first sent her sprinting to the bathroom out of fear, even though she’d come crawling back with unneeded apologies.

But then he caught it — that redoubled heartbeat as she glared up at him.

Her slim shape beneath him was as fine as any steak. He'd eaten some foul corpses and torn apart bodies to survive. He'd eaten fallen friends and pets. And the longer this went on, the easier it was to commit such acts.

But this hunger wasn't so simple.

"Cooper?" Lucy exhaled, the fine shape of her sternum taut with pale skin and bone.

Cooper trailed his fingers along the bone, dismally aware of how much force it'd taken to pry open her ribs and fish out her organs. Red and gushing and filling — but not worth it. It wasn’t worth it. Cooper’s head twitched to the side as he bit down, that malicious ache for carnage twisted up with the need to bury his cock in her.

“You wanna be something, huh?” His breathing rasped like sandpaper as his fingers slid beneath the faded white button-down.

Lucy gave him a puzzled look but nodded all the same.

His palm lay flat against his tit, in search of her heartbeat. He didn't think about how his scarred skin grazed her nipple or how her rib cage twitched in response. Force of habit drew his thumb back, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as a half-smirk kicked the corner of his lips up.

Lucy wouldn't even look at him. Her lips were pursed tight together as she strained her head to the side like she didn't know if she should scream or moan.

It's an unfair trade, as are most in the wasteland if you’re smart.

He's rotten and falling to pieces while she's fresh from a vault. The difference in radiation alone should be enough to make him back off, but he doesn’t care much. And neither does she from how she arched into his hand, despite how angry she looked.

"Sweet thing, your heart's going a mile a minute."

Lucy widened her eyes at him, and her head snapped towards him. “You’re touching me, of course it is.”

"Barely touched you," Cooper said, not sure be cared if it was fear or arousal.

“Sex doesn’t involve this much talking normally.”

“Normally, as per the one time you fucked your husband,” Cooper said as he continued to thumb the soft flesh of her breast. She keened into each movement, not shy or unsure as he’d feared she might be.

“You just like the sound of your own voice,” Lucy said under her breath, her eyes fluttered shut.

Cooper had to laugh, even though he didn’t much want to. If he’d known how easy it’d be to bridge the gap between traveling companions and this, he might’ve tried something sooner.

“You’re reactive,” he said with a tweak of her nipple.

“That’s so weird and gross,” Lucy stumbled over words, her voice too thin to mean what she was saying.

"You're the one who wants to fuck a monster."

"You aren't a monster."

Cooper smirked, unable to help it. "That's the part you wanna argue?" He had her on his back and at his mercy, but she still wanted to argue for his humanity.

Lucy stayed silent, glaring up at him.

Cooper grabbed her by the hip and, in one firm tug, had her cunt flush against the hard shape of his cock through his jeans. His hand snaked from her hip to the soft spot behind her knee, pushing her leg back to angle her to his liking.

"Can we..." Lucy exhaled, her question lost as his hips canted against her.

“Can we what?” Cooper pressed harder against her, his arm twisted around her thigh so he could crack open his belt. He didn’t bother beyond unfastening it, and his jeans peeled aside enough to free himself. He couldn’t hide the hiss of satisfaction as the sensitive head of his cock met the soft fabric and heat between her legs.

“Can ghouls and…” Lucy’s words continued to stick to the roof of her mouth, her eyes trailing over him in the shadows. It was better this way, in the dark, where she couldn’t make out the rough skin and frayed edges where the radiation had hardened and rotted him.

Again, his end of the bargain was far sweeter than hers. He wasn’t sweating it, of how she might recoil and pale at the sight of his mangled flesh. It wasn’t the same as when he’d been human, but the instinct to resist her certainly faded easier.

Cooper couldn't even recall a time he'd jerked himself off. The drive to bury himself in something warm and soft had faded long ago.

It was nice to be in a room with a lock, alone, not surrounded by sand and open air. Dogmeat was asleep in the disused bathtub, with a bunch of blankets Lucy had thrown in there for her.

Nothing to interrupt, the kid down the hall --

No.

Like lightning, deja vu grabbed him by the throat. His face twitched as he put his mind right. There was no kid, and this wasn't his wife. It was the uppity brat from a vault, the product of every fucked part of the old world.

“Like, are we allowed to fuck?” Cooper asked, incredulous.

“No — I mean, I… For the future of humanity,” Lucy stumbled over her words. “If I got pregnant — ”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Cooper said in a flat voice. If she was worried about some fucked up little irradiated babies, so far as Cooper knew, it wasn’t possible.

“Oh, well, okey-dokey.”

“Okey… Jesus,” Cooper snorted.

Cooper caught the sides of her pajama pants and yanked them out of place in one firm tug. He caught her calves and set her legs over one shoulder, a hand on her ankle while the other settled on the bed beside her. From the look on her face, she was curious to see how this worked — whatever they’d been taught in the vault mustn’t go further than missionary.

In an act of pity or chivalry, he slid back, his eyes narrowed up at her. Some fucking gentleman he had to be to give a fuck, even now when she had no idea what she was after. Not really, not beyond the act of repopulating the Wastes. He hitched her thighs over his shoulders, tongue and radiation-thinned lips flush against her wet cunt.

So much wetter than she should be, given they’d done little more than grind for a few moments. He rattled out a growl from low in his throat, unable to really taste her but wishing that he could. Scent and taste were long-dead, but he’d catch moments of it, faintly, and he was buried between her folds now.

His fingers slid along where his tongue teased, and his gaze fixed up at her. She couldn’t stay still, writhing and desperate, and her pajama shirt pried free now. The slight swell of her breasts and the sharp jut of her jawline were all he could make out as he did his best to get revenge on the fucks in room five who couldn’t stop screaming.

Cooper dipped back, tonguing his lips as she twitched and tensed. “Can feel you holding back.”

“It’s — I can’t, it’s too much.”

His hand stilled. “Should I — ”

“No,” Lucy caught his head, her fingers skating over his leathery scalp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Then you stop holding back,” he said, his fingers curled inside her. “Make a mess of it, ain’t our fuckin’ bed.”

Lucy looked horrified, but Cooper didn’t stop. He kept the same pace, his fingers thudding against that spot that made her tense and shove at him. If he pulled back, she’d drag him close again. His name fumbled past her lips here and there, like she was mad at him, and he just worked her harder.

And then her thighs snapped and near cracked his damn head off, her back arched against the bed, and a desperately wet patch formed beneath his chin between them. He couldn’t hide the shit-eating smirk as he rested his cheek against her thigh, a rumbling noise of satisfaction that some things couldn’t leave you.

Cooper didn’t leave her a chance to recover, owing to the heavy throb at every little noise she made. His cock damn near hurt, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Well.

It took a moment, but he had her thighs settled around his hips as he kept it simple for her sake. It stopped being about sex or need and became something even more abstract, that hot ache for warmth and to be inside her. She whimpered with that dazed, empty-faced bliss as he caught her behind the knees. His ruined, rough hands had no place near her pristine vault-grown flesh.

And yet he had his ex-wife to thank — much obliged Barb, you fuckin’ snake. It’s a lashing thought he bit back, that constant push between loving the woman and hating what she’d done. But this was simpler, a pretty young thing slick and waiting for whatever he sought to do with her.

All the times he could have done this shit back when the world was whole. But he never would have. Not back then.

Now…

That lead-weight heat in his stomach spurred him on; a few shallows thrusts were all he could manage before he buried himself inside her. It was such a bone-deep satisfaction he couldn't recall why it'd been so long.

But then he was face to face with her, that pretty, doe-eyed shock as she played catch up with him. He caught her cheeks between his finger and thumb, pushing her head back and pouting her lips.

"This what that vault of yours taught you? Lay back and think of America?"

“It was — our duty…”

“To get fucked?” Cooper couldn’t help but laugh, each long, slow thrust, another scratch to an impossible itch. “Bet your daddy will be real proud when he finds out you fucked a ghoul.”

Lucy mumbled in protest, her fingers digging into his forearm’s patchy flesh. She kept pace with his thrusts, the bruising bite of his fingers on her hips. His other hand remained on her face to keep her looking at him as he bore down.

Their room quickly became guttural noises, his exertion an undercurrent to her yelps and pleading noises. She clawed at his hand, the one that was keeping her honest and facing him. She didn't get to look away and pretend this was some other man fucking her.

Lucy fought against his grip, stuck between glaring and panting. The orgasm she’d squirmed through before and broken to had her dazed and gentle like she was on cloud nine. But the slow increase of pace and pressure had her writhing again like when he’d had his tongue and fingers deep inside her.

Cooper slid his hand lower, his grip fastened to her throat. He gave a few shallow thrusts before he set into a steady rhythm, focused on how damn good he felt. The tighter he pinched the sides of her neck, the tighter she got. That slick flutter of her cunt out of fear and adrenaline, of whether he'd let the blood go back to her head or not...

He really could do any number of terrible things to her, and no one would know. But she came to this seedy hotel room and lazed around and trusted him like the fucking moron she is. And he clung to what thin shred of honor he had to not hurt her beyond what she might enjoy.

It isn’t some big, beautiful moment where they rode out a climax together — it’s far messier, the juts of his hips all the warning he got as he cracked his hips closer to hers. And then there was that tug low in his stomach, the jitters in his pelvis so desperate he couldn’t catch it.

Cooper tucked his head against her neck, his teeth buried into her shoulder as he came. His fingers dug deep into the mattress, a heinous growl between gnashing teeth. They’d stopped the banter long ago, probably due to his comment about her dad — he didn’t care much. He appreciated the silence.

But she was breathing, long and soft, and his teeth were still buried in her shoulder. He couldn’t breathe as easily, a rasping, rolling sound from low in his throat. He swallowed a few times and coughed out of habit.

“You need your meds,” Lucy said, her voice drifting and gentle.

For a moment, he wanted to let go all the way. But he left it at the deep bruise on her shoulder, that crescent of teeth swelling from the pressure. He thumbed the mark and drew back, dressed enough that he was able to tuck himself away in a moment, ready to run or fight if needed.

Lucy…

Cooper coughed into the crushed shape of his fist, her body marked with his grip on her hip, her leg, and her throat. He didn’t feel anything at that, no pride, no guilt. He couldn’t even muster that satisfaction of seeing a naked woman.

Lucy’s hand dipped between her thighs, her fingers tested against herself. He’d come inside her and hadn’t really thought to pull out or ask. Another cough caught him off-guard; his mind shifted to the RadAway in his pack.

“It’s a shame,” Lucy said, a distance in her gaze. “That you couldn’t get me pregnant, even if you wanted to. I feel like you’d be a good dad.”

Cooper had no idea what to say to that.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Lucy said as she moved to get dressed. She didn’t meet his eye but didn’t seem angry.

Cooper strode over to her, his hand on her cheek and his thumb on her bottom lip. He met her eye for a long moment. He bent down to place a kiss as gently as he could manage on her forehead, the cavity of his nose bumping against the top of her head.

Lucy bounced up to peck him on the lips, so chaste you wouldn’t believe he’d just fucked her into the mattress. She smiled that same empty-eyed Hollywood smile. She touched his cheek, her thumb brushed against the hollow of his cheek and over his hairless brow.

“You aren’t mad at me anymore, right?”

“No,” Cooper said, unwilling to get back into it.

“Good.”

There isn’t any room to cuddle, not that he’d want to. Not that she would want to, either. He can’t quite make out what happened between them. But it seemed like it’d put Lucy’s mind at ease, that he wouldn’t turn on his heel and leave. Maybe this was the ‘something’ she needed from him.

Just something that they shared, something deeper than a shared destination.

Just, something.

#vaultghoul #cooper howard #cooper x lucy #my writing #lucy maclean

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occatorcreator · 8 days

Text

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

1 - Family Lost

Purple and his mother receive a grim diagnosis, and Purple struggles to find a cure to save his only living family member.

Content Warnings: Disease and Major Character Death

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Purple stared up at the clock that punctuated the silent waiting room with its ticking.

10:15 am. His morning elective class was close to wrapping up. He distantly thought that he should care about what he’ll miss at school, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the hammering of the clock and how long he waited for a response.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

He looked from the clock to the door, waiting for a nurse to come and summon him. Right now, he had been in the hospital for over two hours and there hadn’t been any updates on his mother’s current condition.

If I had slept in, Purple thought, tapping his foot with anxious energy in time with the clock, would she not have made it?

The thing was, he almost had. He had almost shut his blaring alarm off and gone back to sleep. He really hadn’t been in the mood to go to school this morning; he was sure there was a test in math, and he wasn’t ready for it. School was… well, it had become more unpleasant since the divorce. Despite it being a year since Navy left, thoughts of the divorce sent his mind into a negative tailspin. All those times Navy ragged on him to wake up “bright and early” every day for routine exercise, and all those times he got annoyed by Purple’s fussing made him resent the idea of getting up at all.

He debated sleeping in to spite Navy, but what was the point of that? Not like Navy would show up to witness the spite. All that would come of sleeping in would be the omelets mom prepared growing cold. She was the only parent he had left now; he couldn’t let her down by being a brat about school.

And now he faced the possibility of having no parents… he found his mother fallen to the kitchen floor, unconscious, with the omelets burning.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Every second not knowing if Orchid was alright or dead drove Purple mad. He had driven as quickly as he could to the hospital and made enough of a scene in the emergency room to get her wheeled in right away. The doctors had escorted him to a nearby waiting room after they took Orchid to treatment, offering reassurance and describing some procedure they’re doing.

Knowing that barely worked to calm him down. Purple was no longer actively panicking, but he was fretting. He hated sitting. It was the inability to do anything but wait, unsure what the response would be, unable to take his mind off of anything but his prayers that things will be alright.

Tick tock. Tick- creak.

The door grabbed Purple’s attention. He stood up preemptively, ready to meet the nurse, only to blanch back as a giant orange stick figure ducked his way through the door frame. Clutching at his massive hand was a golden child, about four or five years old. He looked nervously around the room, sticking close to the orange stick’s leg.

“Just have a seat, Mr. Tango,” the nurse said. “We’ll call you when they’re done.”

The stick figure nodded at the nurse with a sour expression.

“Will Second be okay?” the child asked the nurse.

“Your older sibling will be fixed up,” the nurse said, smiling softly. “It’s just a minor fracture.”

And what about my mother? Purple wanted to ask. Is she going to be okay?

The question died on his tongue as Mr. Tango passed by him to take a seat. Purple instantly stepped back from the towering figure. By the time he and his child found a place to sit, the nurse had already left, shutting the door.

Great, still nothing, Purple thought, returning to his seat. He missed the prior solitude of the waiting room. With other stick figures around, he felt self conscious of his worrying. Not to mention, one of them was a small child. Purple wasn’t ready for the annoyance that would follow when that small child inevitably got bored and started wandering around, looking for things to do.

“Hello,” the child waved at Purple.

Purple took a deep breath, counted mentally to two, and looked at the child standing before him with what he hoped was a neutral expression.

“Hi,” he greeted half-heartedly.

The child tapped his hands together nervously, eyes looking down at Purple’s feet upon the less-than warm response. Somehow his sour mood didn’t send the kid crawling to his parent, which made Purple raise an eyebrow.

“What do you want?” Purple asked, baring his teeth in a false grin.

“Um, can I have that?” The child asked, pointing at the table filled with magazines.

Purple waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not using it, and you don’t need to ask. Just take it.”

The child brightened and grabbed a magazine. He retreated back to sit by his father, who’s cold gaze regarded Purple in a way that made Purple’s skin crawl. The giant’s gaze reminded him of Navy’s.

Specifically, the day Navy left. He could never forget that cold and guarded stare despite Orchid’s best attempts to shield them from him.

“I guess this is it, then,” Navy said, “I’m leaving.”

Don’t think about him, Purple mentally scolded, closing his eyes to refocus on the present.

With nothing else to get his mind off of the past and present situation, he watched as the child flipped through the magazine. It didn’t take long for the child to realize that magazines were mostly advertisements and boring articles he couldn’t read before he placed it to the side. He caught that Purple was looking at him, and Purple failed to look away in time.

“My sibby broke their thumb.”

Sibby? Purple didn’t know how to comment on that odd shorthand for sibling.

“Ah…How did that happen?” It took Purple a full second before he found his voice. He got the feeling the kid was a bit of a chatterbox, how unfortunate. Purple had no desire to talk, but he felt like he couldn’t stay silent either.

Maybe this could get his mind off of things...

“My dad had a day off, took me and Second in the park,” the child said, “We did lots of fun stuff and it was really nice out. We were playing truth or dare, and I dared Second to punch a tree!”

He looked expectantly, waiting for Purple to supply a question. Yet when Purple only bothered with a raised eyebrow, Mr. Tango cleared his throat.

“You two didn’t answer why you did that in the first place, Gold,” Mr. Tango said.

The child — Gold — looked down at his dangling legs, ashamed. “It’s cuz Sec’s as strong as you, dad.” Gold said, “I wanted to see if they could punch a hole in the tree.”

Punch a hole in a tree? Ridiculous. Purple scoffed.

“Still. Punching things without the proper technique can be dangerous,” Mr. Tango said. “I hope you two don’t do that again in the future.”

“We won’t, dad,” Gold said.

Again, Mr. Tango reminded Purple of Navy. That comment was a straight-out warning he said during sparring lessons. His father drilled in many basics on keeping yourself from breaking your arm while fighting. Having that reminder of his father again, combined with the ludicrousness of the child’s story, and the fact they were in the hospital over something so stupid made Purple surly.

“Let me guess,” Purple said, “your sibling was dumb enough to tuck their thumb in their fist while punching?”

That was harsh. Now both father and son were glaring at Purple. Purple could feel his heart hammering, desire to cower and apologize strong, but not strong enough to overcome anger brought on from constant fatigue and stress.

“Second’s not dumb!” Gold snapped. “They just didn’t know they needed to do that.”

Purple shrugged. “Sounds like the definition of dumb to me,” Purple said, “I mean tucking your thumb in is unnatural and uncomfortable, so why do that?”

“Not everyone comes into the world knowing everything there is to know,” Mr. Tango warned, “and I don’t care much for you insulting someone you hardly know.”

Mr. Tango said it with a threatening, low tone that made Purple reconsider and apologize for his meanness.

Almost. He might have, had Gold kept his mouth shut.

“They managed to knock the tree down in one hit even when doing it wrong!” Gold bragged. “I bet you can’t do that!”

Inadvertently, Gold managed to hit a sore point for Purple. Orchid and Navy both were prolific fighters in their prime, strong and agile enough to break wood and cinder blocks with a well placed hit. Purple knew it could be done, but he was never strong enough, never fast enough to do it. All he got was painful bruising and a sprain so awful he gave up trying.

And given today, Purple’s fuse was short.

“You little liar,” Purple snapped, “no one can do that.”

“I’m not!” Gold balked, and he tugged on Mr. Tango’s arm. “Dad, you saw it too! Tell him! Second did punch a tree down!”

But there was a split second of hesitation in Mr. Tango’s gaze, that moment of doubt and skepticism. Before he had the chance to defend his son, Purple pounced.

“If your dad claims that, then he’s helping a liar,” Purple said, “I thought preschool taught you better than to make up stories for attention.”

“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” Gold yelled, and Purple saw that the child was so worked up that tears were forming in his eyes. “I’m not a liar!”

“What is your problem?” Mr. Tango snapped, standing up tall to get between Gold and Purple. He didn’t yell like Purple did, but clearly didn’t hide his anger. “You have no right to talk to my son like that.”

“Maybe if you didn’t want me to yell at your liar of a kid,” Purple snapped, standing back up, “then you should have parented better.”

“Excuse me?”

Purple stood up. He was a pipsqueak to the massive stick figure before him, his limbs shaking from fear and rage both.

“I’m just saying, a kid who broke his wrist punching trees and one that makes up tall tales to strangers reflects poorly on you.” Purple said, “My parents wouldn’t hear me spouting such nonsense.”

“Where are they?” Mr. Tango asked, grinning without any joy. “I would like to talk with them about their parenting skills if they could raise someone who’d yell at children for little reason.”

To that Purple had no response.

Oh creator, what would mom think of me right now? Purple thought, visibly deflating and stared at the ground in shame.

Now the only sound there was the clocks ticking and Gold crying. Seeing no fight left in Purple, Mr. Tango sat down and started to console his child. Gold buried his head in his father’s chest, weeping and insisting he wasn’t a liar.

Creak

“Purple?” A nurse came in with a clipboard.

“Yes?” Purple straightened himself up. “Is she ready?”

“She is,” the nurse nodded, his expression appearing grim despite his smile. “She wants to talk to you.”

Oh, good she’s awake, Purple thought, but still… the dread in his stomach grew. Why is the nurse looking at me like that if she’s awake?

“Okay. Take me to her.”

He followed the nurse out, ignoring the pressing glares of Mr. Tango and Gold following him out.

“Rapid aging syndrome?”

Purple sat by Orchid’s beside, holding her hand. Orchid was looking rather pale and frail, but she was alive. The doctors managed to stabilize her.

But only stabilize; there was no cure for this condition.

“Yes,” Orchid said, “Explains a lot of things, like why I didn’t have the same stamina as your father even though we’re the same age.”

She said it with light airiness that nearly made Purple cry.

“But, this is a glitch in your programming, right?” Purple said, clearing his throat, “couldn’t they patch you?”

To that Orchid let out a shaky sigh and patted Purple’s hand. Purple noticed the faint tremor in her hands.

“They found out that they can’t,” Orchid said, plainly.

“Why not,” Purple asked, voice rising. “They’re doctors! Expert coders! They have to fix you! What sort of doctors would they be if they couldn’t?”

“It’s not that simple, honey,” Orchid hushed, “They discovered that my code’s corrupted. The fact they could stabilize me without losing my memories was a miracle in it of itself.”

“Surely, there’s a way around corruption,” Purple begged, “You mean to tell me they can’t stop you from just… aging to death?”

Orchid didn’t say anything at first. She looked up at the ceiling with an inscrutable expression. In that moment, Purple wondered how well she was taking the news that she was given a terrible death sentence, aging at an insanely rapid rate until she shriveled up to a husk. Looking at her now, all the marks Purple blamed on exhaustion or loss of appetite were the tell-tale signs of becoming an elder.

“The doctors gave me two choices,” Orchid said after a moment, “Either I would have 5 months left to live, or they would reset me.” She then turned to Purple. “And reset means full reset. My age, all of my memories… I would be as I was created, as my 18 year old self. I wouldn’t even recognize you as my son anymore. Even with that, I could still be… lost to a reset. There is no guarantee to save me.” Her expression turned pained. “You know which one I had to choose.”

“That’s so f-messed up,” Purple caught himself. But he wished he could swear. How could anyone sugarcoat that?

“The doctors will want to discuss care options in light of my condition,” Orchid said, “having nurses to care for me at home, or placing me in hospice care.”

“But we don’t have the money for a live-in nurse,” Purple pointed out quietly.

Orchid hummed in agreement. “And I don’t want to be moved to hospice care if I can still stand and walk.”

“I could care for you,” Purple offered. “Take off school for a bit-“

“I don’t want to place you in that position,” Orchid waved her hand, “and your education would suffer for it.“

“Mom, I’ll be blunt, my education has already suffered from… Navy leaving.” Purple couldn’t even say the divorce to her, “I won’t be able to focus on shoring up what’s left of my education knowing that your… that you're going to…”

He couldn’t say that either. He shan’t say it, or else he made it true. He didn’t want it to be true.

“Fair point…” Orchid muttered. She placed her hand on her chin and hummed. “There is always my creator,” Orchid paused, “I still have her email address, and I occasionally send her updates. We could stay with her for a while.”

“An actual human? With a desktop?” Purple asked. “Is it even possible for us to go there?”

Orchid nodded. “I’m certain something can be arranged once I reach out to my lawyer and get my affairs in order.”

“Don’t say that, mom,” Purple shook his head.

“I’m afraid we don’t have many options,” Orchid said, “Plus, it would be nice to take you to our childhood home.”

Our? Purple thought, You mean, dad also grew up on that computer?

Purple wasn’t sure about going on a human’s computer with all the risks, but like Orchid said, it wasn’t like there was any better options they could take.

I’ll find something to save you from this fate, mom, he thought, I promise.

Purple kept this vow deep in his heart as the doctors returned.

Her name was Alana, and, despite his mom promising to take him to her childhood home, she clearly owned the latest Apple Macintosh. Alana was nice, nicer than what Purple expected of a human from his history class, and she welcomed Orchid and Purple upon their arrival through her email. They had to write out words on the email in order to communicate with her, but Purple learned he didn’t need to talk with Alana often. She was present for the first two days to ensure they settled on the desktop, before just disappearing and leaving them to their own devices for days on end.

Orchid explained most of the situation to Alana. She wasn’t fully candid about her diagnosis, but she shared that Purple was her and Navy’s son, and that they needed a place to stay in the meantime.

Alana asked only one question. “What happened to Navy?”

The awkward silence and body language from both Orchid and Purple told enough for Alana to discern something happened, but she didn’t feel the need to press.

Living on a desktop was a new experience, one Orchid was happy to guide Purple on.

“Ah, they updated so many things!” Orchid said in awe, “You’re getting a better experience than I did. The desktop is so lovely!”

She leaned down to press a button. It was the finder, and it opened up a series of apps. However, she let out a groan of pain as she struggled to stand back up.

“Careful!” Purple said, lifting her up, “you know you can’t move like you used to.”

Orchid looked forlornly at what she opened, rubbing her back. Stacks of icons stretched above her without any easy way to traverse them.

“Right. Climbing would be your strong suit, you have to do that a lot on a desktop,” she said, half muttering as the advice she gave came with a realization of her condition. That her body was too old to navigate something that she had done in her youth.

Purple had to watch her as that condition worsened overtime.

Not that Purple was idle during this time. He set to work making the desktop space more accommodating for an elder. He found Flash and constructed a crude house with the pencil tool. The linework wasn’t the neatest, but it was convenient, light enough for him to pick up the house and set it down, but sturdy enough that a punch wouldn’t knock it down.

He tried looking around for Orchid and Navy’s files. After all, if they were made, then that means there had to be backup copies somewhere around. Surely, Alana transferred their files to the new computer, there had to be something to counter the apparent corruption.

“Purple, please don’t be going into Alana’s files,” Orchid warned.

Purple nearly fell off the top of the directory, not expecting to hear her voice. It started to croak with age, a tremor of strain she didn’t use to have. She leaned on a crude cane Purple drew to help support herself. He hastily went down so she didn’t have to call him.

“I’m not doing anything shady,” Purple insisted, “I was hoping to find… something.”

Orchid gave him a look. A look he knew too well when she suspected Purple was up to one of his antics. He received that look a lot whenever the school called about his moments of less-than-stellar behavior.

But as quickly as it appeared, it fell. “Look, I’m just warning you, if you poke around in her files and break it, she will be incredibly upset and hurt by that,” she chuckled lightly, “I’m speaking from experience here. Navy and I regretted how we clowned around back in the day.”

You? A trouble maker? Purple couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of Orchid, roughly around his age, causing trouble for her creator. But the smirk faded when that image contrasted the frail stick figure before him.

“Why did Alana… make the both of you?” Purple asked.

Orchid blinked, not expecting the question. She fiddled with her cane, nails gently scraping against its side.

“I don’t know. Flash animation was new and there was a genre of animation that featured fighting stick figures beginning to form. I supposed Alana wanted to add a battle couple, but I couldn’t be certain.”

Purple’s face curled at the thought. “Like she made you two to be a couple?”

“Not like that, she made us to be a team,” Orchid’s smile looked forlorn and she looked elsewhere, “the love came later.”

Purple shuffled awkwardly, knowing how that “love” ended for them all. “Why did you two leave the computer?”

“Stick City was new, and we both wanted to strike it on our own,” Orchid explained, “we wanted to be famous, and we didn’t feel like we could if we stayed on a desktop.” She let out a huff. “How funny that I ended up back here after all this time.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, Purple, I’d rather you not go poking around and getting into trouble.” Orchid placed her hand on Purple’s shoulder. “Come. I can show you some games on the Mac you can play in the meantime.”

“Games?”

“Yes, I know I can’t play the ones that are more active, but I don’t want that to stop you from experiencing the fun you can have on a desktop,” she said, “it’s way more immersive.”

Purple opened his mouth to argue something, before closing it and nodding.

I really can’t go against her wishes now, Purple thought, besides, there are healing items in games, maybe I can find something to fix her?

“What do you recommend I try, mom?” he asked.

Time moved too quickly for Purple’s liking. He did as much as he could in his investigation of the games on Alana’s computer. Some of the games were fun, but ultimately useless to his main goal. Others had healing items he had to buy from a vendor or could collect in chests. He gave these to Orchid, yet the most they did was ease her aching joints.

He found Minecraft through his investigation and it, too, had healing items that didn’t work. Yet, the game was fun, intriguing enough for even Orchid to join in on the fun. He found himself simply just building things with Orchid out of the simple blocks provided in creative mode. They began to build a foundation of a castle, but in time, only Purple was able to build the castle. When that happened, he abandoned construction to refocus his efforts in finding a cure.

Orchid was visibly getting older and weaker every passing day. She walked slower, leaned on her cane more often, and complained of pain in her bones. Vision and hearing were going, and Purple had to draw her glasses and hearing aides to help her.

Nothing was working. He tried experimenting with healing items he found: mixing it into her food, combining it with other mechanics, and even breaking into a game’s code to see if there was anything he could pull. All his efforts did was ease the burdens of aging. He could not cure nor save Orchid from her fate.

Eventually, Orchid became too weak to even leave her bed. Purple was torn between wanting to stay by her side and care for her or leaving to find something he possibly overlooked. He settled for spawning a villager from an egg to be her nurse while he stepped away. But walking away was difficult; he felt every hour he was away was the hour he came back to find her…

He came crawling back with nothing to show for it.

“Is there anything in your game that can stop this?” Purple asked the villager, one night after he returned. “To stop her from dying?”

The villager looked around, unsure if Purple was genuinely engaging with them or speaking out loud to himself. When Purple remained silent, the villager felt like they needed to respond.

“I don’t know,” they admitted, “I haven’t heard of anything like that.”

“You do realize you don’t age, right?” Purple continued. “You and every video game character are just frozen, as you are. You don’t have to worry about growing old, leaving your kids and loved ones behind...”

“That’s not…” the villager trailed off when he met Purple’s cold stare. “It’s not that simple..”

“Seems pretty simple to me. You, a computer program, live on, while us stick figures, also computer programs, grow old and die. How unfair is that?” Purple muttered. “I ask again. Is there anything in this stupid game that can make her ageless like you?”

The villager shook his head and took a step back. Something was in Purple’s voice that deeply frightened the sniveling NPC. And for a moment, Purple thought of pulling out his sword and stabbing the villager for his unhelpfulness.

After all they were only ageless, not immortal. Weak.

He walked away from the villager, but those horrid thoughts followed him.

“What’s happening to Orchid?”

Alana logged on to find her desktop disheveled: a half finished castle from Minecraft, a crude house with a crude bed where Orchid lay in it. She must look so bad that even a human could see it on the screen.

Purple stayed by her side, unable to sleep, and stared blankly at the writing above him. He dared not grab the pen he used to write, he didn’t want to get up and leave his mother’s side.

It had been five months. Her time was almost up, and all his efforts to stop it amounted to nothing.

The cursor moved down and Purple placed himself between it and his mother.

“Don’t!” he said, splaying his hand out. He knew Alana couldn’t hear, but he spoke anyway. “She’s very fragile.”

“Is that Alana?” Orchid croaked.

Her feeble, weak voice broke Purple’s heart to hear. Her glasses were off to the side, but she didn’t reach for them.

“Yes, it’s her.”

“Ah, I'm glad,” Orchid said, “I worried… I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

“No, no mom, you don’t have to,” Purple said, clinging to her hands. “There- I’m still searching for a cure- I can-“

“Shh,” Orchid placed her hand on his cheek, stilling him. “No, Purple, honey. My time is up. And I don’t want to see you wasting your time searching for a cure that doesn’t exist.”

“But I can’t give up, not now,” Purple shook his head. Her face began to blur and hot tears streaked down his face. “I don’t want you to leave me. Stay here. Please.”

“I don’t want to go, either,” Orchid coughed, “I want to be with you… but I don’t want you to suffer for my sake.”

She wiped his tears with her shaking, wrinkled hands. A pointless endeavor, for Purple could not stop sobbing.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Purple choked, holding her hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Purple,” Orchid said. Her hand slackened to her side and eyes closed. “Promise me something, Purple?”

“What?” Purple leaned in. “What do you need me to do?”

There was a beat of silence, just the raspy rise and fall of her chest.

“Promise me that you'll…” Orchid whispered so faintly, every word laborious. “Promise me you’ll… take good care of yourself… that you’ll find someone-” She broke off into coughing.

“Hush, hush. Of course, of course I will.” Purple said and hugged Orchid. “I promise.”

Orchid didn’t return the hug, too weak to do so.

“I love you,” she wheezed.

Then, she let out a shuddering gasp and fell limp within his arms.

“Mom?” Purple pried away, staring at her gaunt face, eyes closed. He saw that she was becoming translucent, fading away like a spirit.

“Mom? Please…”

Then there was nothing, just him clinging to the blankets. All that Orchid was became nothing now. Not a trace of her was left, except her scent and his memories.

And with that he wept openly into the empty bed while Alana wordlessly hovered above.

#occatorart #alan becker #animator vs animation #animator vs minecraft #second family au #cw death #ava purple #ava orchid #ava king #ava gold #cw disease #existential dread

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floralpascal · 4 months

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The Heart’s Flame, Chapter 1: The New Owner

Summary: When a new owner buys the house next to Fire Station 133, Frankie is tasked to be the welcoming party. However, he didn’t quite expect the new owner to be a gorgeous woman like yourself.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical description)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: PG (series is Mature & Explicit though, so minors do not interact)

Warnings: None, just Frankie with a big crush

A/N: I’m so excited to introduce you all to these two! Ugh I’ve been obsessed with writing this the past week. Please note that I don’t know all that much about firefighting, so expect some inaccuracies there.

In the decade Frankie had spent as a firefighter and wildfire helicopter pilot at Station 133, a kind and quiet elderly couple — Mr. and Mrs. Henry — had lived in the house next to the station. They had loved living next to it and loved the firefighters that worked there. As the only house in the vicinity, they had painted their front door red in solidarity long before Frankie joined the station. It had been a surprise for everyone when the news broke that they were selling the house and moving to Italy for their retirement. A few of the firefighters had helped the couple move their things into the moving vans before bidding them goodbye. Then, they watched for any signs of a new owner for the small house. Weeks went by until last Thursday when an unfamiliar black Jeep showed up and warm yellow light came from the windows of the house.

The Jeep came and went from the house but with the positioning of the house and the entryway, no one was able to get a good look at the new owner.

The firefighters debated for four days over when one of them should go over there to introduce themselves, as it was important for the station to establish a good relationship with the mystery owner as soon as possible. Finally, after a rather heated debate with the firefighters on duty today, Frankie won the role of greeting the newcomer by virtue of being the best baker out of them all. Granted, with his main rivals being Benny, Will, and Santi, it was inevitable.

“Twenty bucks says it’s another retired couple,” Benny bet the guys as Frankie took a pan of cookies out of the oven.

The one upside to working 24 hour shifts was that the station had to have a full kitchen. Half of the room made up the nice but cluttered kitchen while the other half was occupied by a large table. Huge windows lined the wall behind the table, the little house visible to the left of the station.

The guys had all packed into the kitchen the moment Frankie started the cookies. Benny leaned against the kitchen counter to Frankie’s right. Will sat in a seat at the table behind him as he nursed a cup of coffee a few feet away from where Santi sat on the corner of the table with his arms crossed.

While Frankie and Will simply shook their heads at Benny, Santi scoffed. He retorted, “No, man. I say it’s a hot single woman. The house is right next to the fire station, she gets to watch all the fine men and women in uniform from the porch. It’s a good deal.”

“Are you kidding?” Benny asked. He gestured in the direction of the little house. “Look at that place. It screams retirement.”

Santi waved a hand at him dismissively. “It’s not about how the house looks, it’s about the view.”

Benny went to argue, but Frankie cut him off.

“This,” Frankie sighed as he packed the warm cookies into a tub, “is exactly why I’m going and you two aren’t.”

“Oh, come on, Fish,” Benny appealed to him. “You know as well as I do that it’s gonna be some retired folks.”

Frankie really did agree with Benny on this one, but he refused to tell him that. The house was well past its prime and clearly a relic from the 80s, two-toned white and brown. Confusingly, it also had a faded red roof — that Frankie wondered if had once matched the door — and light wood accents for patios in the front and back of the house. In all honesty, it was a little ugly. It was like bad design had met bad taste and poor aging. He didn’t think anyone would really find it appealing, but it definitely didn’t look like a place a stunning bachelorette would want to buy.

Benny pointed at his brother and tried to appeal to him, too. “Will, who do you think is right?”

Will shook his head with disinterest before taking a sip of coffee from his mug. “Nope. I’m not humoring you two.”

Frankie chuckled as Benny complained and urged Will to side with his baby brother.

As Frankie packed up the tub of cookies and its accompanying Welcome to the neighborhood! card from the station, Santi gave him a sly, confident smile. “We’ll see who’s right.”

Frankie made his way out of the station, feeling oddly anxious about the newcomer. Would they be as nice as the last owners were? Would they allow the station to use part of their lawn as extra parking space for the charity cookout they hosted every summer? Would they put up with Santi blasting rock music with the bay doors open? Were the newcomers ready to put up with lights and sirens coming from the station at all hours of the day?

Finally, reaching the little house, Frankie ascended the old rickety stairs that led to the worn deck. When he reached the faded fire engine red front door, he knocked. Shifting the plastic container of freshly-baked cookies to one hand, he quickly adjusted his navy uniform.

He hadn’t been particularly anxious about the new owners until now. He hadn’t really realized how incredible the last owners had been as neighbors. They didn’t just put up with the station — and some of the firefighters’ antics — they adored the station. Mr. and Mrs. Henry always wanted to help out however they could. But now, with them gone, it dawned on Frankie that not everyone would like living next to a station or want to participate in what they did.

Shuffling from behind the door pulled Frankie from his thoughts. The door swung open and—

Oh. Oh, this was not a retiree.

Frankie had rejected Santi’s prediction so swiftly and thoughtlessly that he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. You were gorgeous. You were clad in shorts and a baggy black Queen tank top, peering at him questioningly.

“Hi,” you greeted cautiously. “Can I… help you?”

It was like Frankie’s world had been turned upside down.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake himself from his stupor. “Um, I’m Frankie. Frankie Morales. From the fire station.”

You cracked a small smile as you looked down at his uniform. “I see that.”

“We, um, wanted to welcome the new owner to the neighborhood,” he explained, raising the tub to make his point. “That is, if you are the new owner.”

A full smile broke out across your face, brighter than any fire he had seen. “I am.”

He reciprocated your smile as you told him your name. When he offered the tub with the attached greeting card to you, you graciously accepted it.

Eyeing the card, you said, “This is so sweet! I have to admit, I didn’t know if I would actually get to meet any of you.”

“Are you kidding? We were all dying to meet our new neighbor. I was the lucky guy who won the job.”

It eased Frankie’s nerves when he saw you suppress a bashful smile at that — a crack in the easy confidence that seemed to roll off of you.

“I didn’t know you all would care so much,” you said, almost to yourself.

Oh, Frankie had been interested before. Now he cared. And he imagined some of the single guys and girls at the station might, too.

“Of course we do,” Frankie insisted. “We want you to feel good about the neighborhood. If you ever need anything — anything at all — you can always come to the station.”

“If my house ever catches fire, I expect an incredible response time from you all,” you teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a theatrical nod.

Laughing, you beckoned him with your free hand. “Come on in, Frankie. I’m afraid it’s kind of a mess in here right now.”

Still trying to ignore the fast thrum of his heartbeat, he crossed the threshold and followed you into the house. The door led straight into the living room — or what had once been a living room. The carpet had very obviously been ripped out, pieces of flooring missing at one edge of the room. Wallpaper had been torn off of all the walls, evidenced by the one wall that still had half of its gaudy wallpaper — yellow diamonds on a white background. Paint buckets sat in a huddle by the corner. Other painting and remodeling supplies littered the edges of the room, making the place look less like a house and more like a construction site.

As you took the tub of cookies to what seemed to be the kitchen, you called, “This place is in need of a serious overhaul. It’ll take a couple months to even get this place to where I can actually move in.”

Frankie eyed a nail gun which sat next to a table saw. “Are you… are you doing the renovations all by yourself?”

You appeared in the walkway again, opting to lean on the doorframe with your arms crossed and an easy smile on your face. “What? Don’t think a girl can do it?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide. “No, no! Just impressed, actually. This looks like a lot for just one person.”

“I grew up helping out on different house renovation projects,” you explained.

“Is that why you bought this house?” Frankie asked. But even as he asked, he already knew that it was. It wasn’t the reason that Santi predicted a pretty woman like you would buy the house. The answer was even simpler than that. “You wanted a fixer-upper?”

You nodded a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “It’s more fun to work for it.”

Frankie thought that he may just die then and there. How the hell could he have gotten so lucky for the most perfect woman on earth to move in right next to the station?

Trying desperately to sound like a caring neighbor and not a guy with a quickly-forming crush, he made an offer he would forever be thankful he made. “Well, if you ever need any help, just let me know. I’m pretty handy myself. Just tell me what to do.”

You nodded, a sweet smile on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind, Frankie. You know, when Mr. Henry said you firefighters were a sweet bunch, I didn’t quite picture any as sweet as you.”

Your words were like gasoline on the burning flames of his quickly intensifying crush. He fought to find his words once again before settling on, “Mr. Henry told you about us?”

You nodded, pushing off the wall to move closer to him. Frankie fought to keep his eyes on your face and not your gorgeous form. You gestured in the direction of the station. “He told me all about you guys. He wanted to make sure that the new owner understood what living next to you guys would entail. Obviously, I was okay with that. Before he let me buy the house, though, he made me promise to continue helping you guys with your cookouts. Apparently, it’s a big deal and I need to provide parking and some kind of side dish.”

Frankie laughed, looking out of the living room window that faced the station for a moment. “The Henry’s were always good to us. It’s good to know they were looking out for us, too. And, uh, the side dish is optional. You’re always invited to the cookouts as a guest. The Henry’s just always wanted to be involved.”

You tilted your chin up at him. “Then maybe I want to be involved, too.”

Frankie tried to tamp down how badly he wanted that — to have you there at the cookouts. To talk you, get to know you more, ask you to dance with him. Instead, he said, “We would all really appreciate that.”

You chuckled. “Then count me in. I’ll be there. As long as all of the other firefighters are as nice as you are.”

“Most of them,” Frankie chuckled, a hint of nerves in his voice.

Then, it got quiet for a moment, awkwardness pressing in. In a desperate attempt to get rid of it, Frankie blurted, “Would you like to come see the station? I’m sure everyone there would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Really, it wouldn’t be a bother.”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Oh, what the hell. Let’s do it.”

Frankie tried not to beam. He had a little more time to be with you, to get to know you. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could even convince you to stay for dinner at the station.

As you led him out of your house and out into the sunkissed day, he couldn’t help but hope that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction

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heyidkyay · 2 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo.

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes.

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath.

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes.

His heart was pounding like mad.

He knocked.

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door.

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused.

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside.

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her.

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered.

She didn’t.

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth.

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish.

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan.

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now.

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood.

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging.

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin.

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so.

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck.

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs.

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door.

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed.

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket.

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him.

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long.

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared.

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door.

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was.

Her smile was soft then. Fond.

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob.

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer.

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her.

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him.

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely.

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy.

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her.

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it.

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability.

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake.

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all.

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close.

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me.

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him.

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me.

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it.

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist.

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Is it okay if i request how yan!twisted wonderland characters act on how to handle f! Yuu when she got her period and practically in pain, i woild be happy too if you can do the teachers and staff but platonic yandere but if you don't want to it's fine

(This idea just comes to mind while i was in pain in my period right now, also sorry if my english not good)

Period Pain | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

“What could constitute that you have to lay around all day!?”

*Whimper* “Becasue the pain is actually unbearable…”

“Oh…I didn’t realize you were suffering. Ace, Deuce, why didn’t you offer to help them before!?”

“But we just found out!”

“Quick, it is on the Queen’s orders that we care for our lov–I mean friends! Get them soup immediately!”

His various studies done in his childhood will probably include the female anatomy at one point

But he’s never witnessed it until now

And learning what your like during this time not only is this an awesome learning opportunity

(Which he’s telling if anyone asks)

But this is the perfect time to take care of you

And flex his husband bone a bit

Directing your friends and the students of Heartslabyul to help with various tasks you need to get done

He’s worried for you

More than usual

Treating it like a sickness if your debating if you should go to class

“I suggest that you take the day off! While I know more than anything that you don’t want to miss assignments but your health is of utmost importance.”

And if you do decide to stay

He’s checking on you after and in the middle of class

Often asking for your ratings of pain

When it comes to more comfort he’s hesitant

Mostly because he’ll burn up in a blush the moment he makes contact with you

Don’t even think about if you show your slightly upset with someone

It's not even in your control but Sam just so happens to run out of your preferred pain medication

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THERE'S NO MORE!!! WHAT KIND OF ESTABLISHMENT–!!!!”

Face redder than your blood

you can usually count on the dormleader’s anger scaring who ever bought the last pack into offering it for free as long as he doesn’t burn the building down

At the end of the day he’s pleased that he can provide for you…

“In the future…Let it be known that you can call me at any time. It’d be concerning if I couldn’t do this..”

Trey Clover

Probably informed by Ace complaining about your odd behavior he’s hurriedly rushing into action

Even though his sister is still young Trey is the type of guy to just know that this happens

Showing up with your favorite treats specially baked by him

“Figured you were feeling a little under the weather–so I brought some of your favorites.”

He’s not going to invite everyone to help him out like Riddle

Taking into account your integrity and privacy

He’ll keep it between the two of you

Heating pad, pain relief, tampons, pads he’s got it if he suspects you need it

Observing your behavior puts him ahead of everyone else

“It's alright (Y/n), you can rest on my shoulder. I’m sure its rough going through that by yourself.”

He offers himself as someone you can confide in especially more than usual

Willing to be a bit bolder the more you rely on him

He’s willing to give you a massage or to rub your tummy while you doze off

It gives him so much more leeway than his typical…drugging scheme plans

“There’s no need to worry (Y/n), I’ll be here for you the whole time.”

Cater Diamond

“Whoa this is like the worst thing ever, for you I mean!”

He gives you a hard time at first but ultimately he’s there to help

But don’t expect him not to document the whole thing

You can’t tell me Cater isn’t going to heavily allude on his socials that your dating

‘Going to buy painkillers for Pumpkin-bae’

If you at some point bring it up, he’ll just say that's a nickname he uses for you it doesn’t mean anything it does

He’s more than willing to rub your back and tummy

But beware should you find yourself sleeping off the pain he’s taking so many pictures

With no regard to the fact that you just feel your worst

he’s archiving and posting like this is Crewlchella

“Ah, isn't my babycakes the cutest!?”

Despite his willingness to share online all about you he’s hesitant to let the curious but helpful students in to help.

When he does he’s secretly mulling with a smile on his face

But believe him when he finds a way to casually dismiss everyone

Being sure to be your sole confidant at one point or another

“Well well aren’t you miss popular? No worries you’ve got me all to yourself and I’m definitely made of boyfriend-material!”

Deuce Spade

“Oh? Oh. OHhhh!”

Either you or one of his seniors is going to have to spell it out for him

And even when he gets it he still doesn’t understand

Acts like your bleeding out

Trying desperately to stop the internal bleeding that isn’t happening

“I-I got you ice! I hope this will help. Its what my mom would give me when I was in pain.”

He doesn’t understand your mood swings but he’s going to back you up nonetheless

Yelling at someone randomly he’s either hopping on your rage train or just standing out of your way

He’s really confused but he wants to help

And he’s willing to throw punches if it comes down to it

If you need something from him you’ll have to ask

He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed

“I’m here to help (Y/n), just tell me what you need!”

Ace Trappola

“Uhhh that's gross!”

“Ace!”

“Sorry sorry, fine we’ll help you.”

He’s willing to help if only to avoid your wrath

He starts acting fussy when Deuce or anyone else gets asked to help

Or when you flash a thankful look at anyone but him

That's when he starts really putting in the work

And that is truly what gets him motivated to help

Bragging rights and something to hold over you head

But when its boiled down to it and you two were all alone

He’d sigh before offering to rub anywhere in particular

His hands may wander but for the most part he’s there for that insatiably warm feeling that burns his insides when you genuinely thank him

“H-hey y-you know you owe me right? Okay, okay fine, you don’t but at least let me do this…it’d be a pain if you came out of this and thought I was a jerk right?”

SavannaClaw

Leona Kingscholar

“Don’t bleed all over my bed, herbivore!”

He probably knows it's here before you do

Groaning as he starts making preparations for you to keep laying in bed

Just because nature decided to beat you up doesn’t mean cuddling is going to stop

No no in fact it's going to increase because on the worse days your bed-ridden anyway

He’s hardly leaving your side but he’s not taking actual care of your needs

That's Ruggie’s job

But he’d be darned if he let your scent spur any of his students into insubordination

“She’s mine. If you really want to test that out I’m more than happy to leave you incapacitated for the rest of your life. Grr!”

He’s comforting in that he is a literal heater pack,

That holds you tight while wrapping his arms possessively around you

He makes a bigger deal of ‘hating’ it when your on your period

He doesn’t really care, blood isn’t going to stop him from having a good time~

He’s more annoyed with the fact that he has to relentlessly drown you in his scent so you don’t get unwanted trouble

He’s no doubt willing to personally bully whoever to get you your comfort foods

“C’mon herbivore be grateful I thought of you on the way over.”

Ruggie Bucci

“Eek! Already!?”

He does keep track though

He includes you in his monthly budget

Prepared to satiate whatever you may need during this time

Especially some painkillers that will help you cart through the day without him

He’s a busy hyena

He typically won’t be able to drop everything for you

But no doubt when the moment arises he’s got groceries and anything you need

“Take it easy (Y/n), you’ll be more able to score more deals if you're actually not fighting cramps. So just rest.”

He’s really respectful

And he may not have the luxury of staying over the whole time

But if not the night than the early morning

After all he has to take care of Leona

“Geez you’d think I should pay for my services with how often I’m doing this.”

“But you already do…”

“Then where's my paycheck?”

“Uh you get yours in hugs and kisses?”

“...okay with interest, right?”

Jack Howl

“I am prepared for this! Steel yourself (Y/n)! Hold out just a little bit longer.”

Once again may have picked up on it much sooner than you

Will be especially vigilant, fully taking the environment into account

He’s not going to scent you directly unless he outright asks

Otherwise major guard-dog energy

Such a cheerleader

He realizes there isn’t much he can do other than offer his body heat and general comfort

“So this is the true power of being a woman? Truly admirable!”

He’s getting whatever you need by any and all means necessary

That's his job as your mate

He must be your protector, your provider

“Leave it to me (Y/n)! I’m here for you. As I’ll always be.”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

“I-i see uhm I’ll uh-help you with that. Contrary to belief I am prepared for this.”

He’s really not lying

Upping his own research about women and how to impress them

Left him with a quite a lot of knowledge about the female anatomy

He’s fretting all throughout the day as he prepares a little care package

His anxiety is on an all time high as he debates if he should give this to Jade to deliver

But true to nature he’ll laugh and come up with some arbitrary excuse

Forcing Azul to do it himself

Red in the face as he's stumbling over his words he’s truly not used to seeing you so vulnerable

But once he pushes down his initial embarrassment

He’s more than happy to do whatever you wish because he likes being useful to you

“Hey Azul can you pass me–”

“The heating pad? Already have it.”

“Oh thanks!”

“/////”

He does get a little concerned when others help more than him

So he might just buy or threaten for whatever someone is bringing you so that he can officially hand it to you himself

“Just know I’m more than capable of doing this and so much more. S-so be at ease around me okay?”

Jade Leech

”Oh my! Well I guess it is that time after all.”

Pretends this is a surprise when he finds you hunched over somewhere

He totally keeps track

But he thinks it's amusing to see you struggle with handling your mood and dealing with the cramps

He’s helping all the while

With front row seats to your most vulnerable moments

He’s enjoying it until he’s pulled away or you begin relying on everyone else

Working in the Monstro Lounge during your week of pain has him stinking up the place with his terrible mood

Bordering Floyd levels of strangulation encounters

he’s relentlessly trying to burn off his explosive anger from being away from you during this time

Call him instinctually motivated but the moment he gets the chance he slinking back to your side

“Don’t stop me from going to them…otherwise I will stay…and see exactly how fragile your ribcage is.”

Floyd Leech

“And you’ll just be laying around because of cramps? That sounds boring!”

He’s not much help in the realm of comfort

Unless your yelling at him during a particularly intense pain cycle

He’s not going to do anything

But he is in a bad mood

“My shrimpy won’t talk to me…They’re in such a bad mood…it puts me in a bad mood!”

Watch out without you there to maintain some semblance of balance he’s practically on a rampage

No one is safe

And in that mentality everyone is catering to you so you can entertain him for a short awhile

He won’t completely abandon you if you very seriously explain or your crying from the pain/frustration

“Shrimpy…you're really hurting aren’t you?”

Only for you

Only for you will he settle himself down to cuddle you

Holding you tight against him

No one will bear witness

And if they do they will wish they hadn’t

“It's not so boring laying with my shrimpy…and it certainly won’t be boring when you’re not breathing.”

Scarabia

Jamil Viper

“I have just the recipe for this.”

He’s a caretaker

Has been all his life so this is no hard feat

Although he’s not used to caring for a girl on her cycle

he's still one of the best

He’s cooking for you, giving you a heating pad, massaging you if you’ll allow it

He’s more than willing after all you’ve done so much for him

Yes, he’ll have to juggle Kalim but he can handle that just fine

This is you and he actually doesn’t mind caring for you

Afterall it further proves how capable of a man he can be for you

“I’m here for you, (Y/n). Obviously It’d be most convenient if you just married me.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Oh my gosh are you bleeding!? We have to call the teachers!”

Jamil has to sit him down and explain it to him

And even then he still has a hard time grasping it

But he’s more than willing to drop everything to provide whatever help he can

Which is mostly just Jamil actually relieving your discomfort

His way of helping is just buying the highest products

And then trying to somehow “Party up” your period

“Hey (Y/n)! Let’s try playing a game to distract from the pain!”

“Ugghhhhh.”

“Great!”

He’s really trying

And even when you or Jamil kick him out for awhile

He feels the pressure of how many others are successfully helping you

And decides he needs to get better

Or at least have a better understanding

So he will ask you about your ailment

Lending a listening ear whenever you want to ramble, rant, or complain

“Tell me all of it (Y/n). I can’t ever get tired of you.”

Pomfieore

Vil Schoenheit

“Oh dear…well I guess it can’t be helped.”

He was aware that this time would come

And while he’s not usually one to indulge in endless cuddling he will do it if only to satisfy you and him too

Already there with the best products

Heating pads, painkillers, and whatever high quality products that will come on short notice

He is definitely verbally bullying who ever came to help

He might insist on putting make up on you if your not a fan of it

What are you going to do, when you’re busy curled up in pain

If you try to get him to go away or not see you because he is a supermodel celebrity

He’s shutting that down real quick

“Don’t think I’d let you rely on some potato when I’m the one who cares.”

Rook Hunt

“Right on schedule madamoiselle!”

Totally kept track and if you didn’t come open the door he let himself in

He’s actually really amicable with anyone who wants to help

Saying ‘it's a beautiful display of friendship and love for Madamesoile Trickster'

Comfort food? he’ll get it

Massage? He’ll do it

Pain Relief….the natural way? PLEASE LET HIM

“Blood is not deterrent for me, muya lyubov.”

You’ll have to get him to leave with how…unafraid he is with your blood

Need to insert a menstrual cup? He avidly volunteers

Have to change a pad? He’ll help you change into a new one

No? Fine. He’ll throw out the other one for you

It never even made it to the trash

He fully is able to get whatever size you prefer

You never told him

You really didn’t have to though

“Rest easy Madamemoiselle Trickster! I will happily take care of you with great pleasure for it is an honor to see your beauty uncontained!”

Epel Felmier

“I’m on it! Leave it to me!”

Doesn’t really understand but he’s here to help

While I’m not confident he’s going to really know what he’s doing

He’s trying with that determined look on his face

This actually makes him quite happy

He can provide for you without having insane muscle mass

At least your mood can be a bit better when Epel concocting an apple tea that fills the space with such awesome smells

He’ll now start trying to keep track of it

Showing up at your house hair pulled bag and care package filled to the brim

Hiding behind his determination to grow he’s absolutely ecstatic on the fact that you have to rely on him

“I..want to be really good at this, (Y/n)! So please let me help!”

Ignihyde

Ortho Shroud

“I’ve scanned my archives and have deduced that this will be the most effective during your menstrual cycle.”

The moment you groan in pain he is on it

What kind of little brother would he be if he couldn’t do this at the very least

Portable heating pad, Massager, personal pharmacist

You name it he’s got it

After all as your future little brother it's only natural he help you with that stuff

“No worries (Y/n)-san, I’ll take care of you during this major happiness debuff!”

Idia Shroud

“This is…the prophesied otome nightmare! The period!”

He’s not coming near you for awhile

This is uncharted territory for him and he’s debating if he wants to challenge that

He no doubt sent Ortho to help if you

Now the question is does he end up making an appearance

On one hand he’s sure to build up on relationship points if he goes

But if he doesn’t go his rivals will no doubt up their statuses with his absence

He’d still be watching on all the cameras, so he’d know if they really were making any progress

But what about you?

For the possibility that you look at him or thank him for helping

Even going so far as maybe leaning on him!?!?!

Your touch alone could boost his morale significantly

Not to mention sending him in an absolute frenzy

In the end he’ll stick it out…if only Ortho enters with him

“From my research, something that's helpful for dealing with pain is a distraction…so would you want to watch me play?”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

“Child of man? Are you…dying?!”

He’s very confused and incredibly scared

Whether you're clutching your midsection in pain or having bled through your pants

He’s in hysterics

Weren’t you supposed to live longer!?

He’s in a panic teleporting you to a teacher or the Diasomnia dorm

Where he’s urgently informing Lilia and staff about your situation

If your not already crying from embarrassment he’s eventually told the reason why this is happening

“You’re not dying but you’re still in pain? How…peculiar of the human body to plague you in such a way.”

If your period was a person he would have brutally murdered them a long time ago

Sneering at the mention of it while your groaning about it

Don’t let him know about how to make it stop

Otherwise your going to have a hard time convincing him this isn’t worth getting you pregnant for

A good way to is to give him another way to help

Maybe removing the pain with pleasure?

“If this spares you the pain of that wretched cycle then I will give you everything you desire.”

Lilia Vanrouge

“Ah, that time is here. Well then guess I should be making you my special recipe!”

“No, please! Anything but that!”

He’s one who may not keep track but he’s able to notice the signs

You’re so vulnerable he can get away with so much!

Like every situation that involves you he is amusing himself

He’ll help you with remedies he’s experienced through his many travels

Providing exotic painkillers that magically transform all your pain into something alse

Uh oh! Now you have something else bothering you, oh what will you do?

“Oya you seem to be struggling. No worries! I’m more than prepared to help you with this pleasurable side effect. No worries, I'm no stranger to blood!”

Silver Vanrouge

“Bleeding!?!?! Stand back! I need to put pressure on the wound!”

As soon as you get him to stop trying to put pressure on your…yeah

You’ll have to specifically explain the science behind your cycle

Alas his support is immediately garnered

“Alright! Fath–Lilia said I could aid you in this endeavor. Saying it’d be a good experience for my future as a guard to Master Malleus.”

He’ll do all that he can with due diligence

And he’s more than happy to curl up to take your naps with you

But when all's said and done you’ll try and send him away

Keyword: “Try”

“Okay thanks for all your help Silver. Have a good night.”

“Are you heading to bed?”

“..no.”

“Alright then.”

“...”

“So you're not going to leave?”

“Of course not. My job is to guard you after all, I can’t possibly let you go through this on your own as your suitor”

“Oh oka–wait suitor?”

Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT IS THIS?! Y-YOU’RE DYING!? DYING!”

He’s alarmed

He knows humans are fragile but to be bleeding so much with no prior warning

Your akin to glass

He’s ultimately going to ignore your reservations until your loudly explaining the science of your cycle to this man

Eventually he will so gracefully take it upon himself to provide his help to you

Doesn’t matter if you never asked he’s helping

You’re so much weaker than him it's natural that he expertly help

With no surprise to you he’s quite bad at this

Misusing your pads/tampons/other

Throwing away your pain killers because they were ‘weak person’s crutch’

And overall just not making this a good time

So you’ll have to explain everything to him

Every tool, every step has a meaning so if he wants to help he’s following your lead

And for you to be so stern and serious…

SHOWS HOW DEDICATED AND POWERFUL YOU ARE!!

“I no doubt misjudged your expertise!! Show me your ways so that I may aid you in our future together!”

Staff

Dire Crowley

“Oh…uhm, right…what does that mean again?”

He’s trying…kinda

You need to ask him for permissions to deal with it anyway

And it would be especially gracious of him to supply everything that you need

…so that you’re not bleeding everywhere

It’d be concerning if that were that the case

So he’s totally following your lead with this one

Even though he’s not a fan of the fact so many of the students are swarming around you during this time

For all he knows you may need many people to help you deal with it

He really doesn’t like seeing you in pain so if you do at some point complain about it

He’s frantically sending you home

“Whatever you need (Y/n). I’m so gracious I shall help you with your condition.”

“It's not a condition, it's a natural bodily function for me that just so happens to come every month.”

“E-every month?”

“Yes…don’t look at me like that! It is entirely normal and healthy!”

Crewel Divus

“Do you have everything you need? I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam didn’t have that.”

He’s on top of it like Donkey Kong

Making sure you have everything you need

The only problem is the various boys that are ‘willing to help’

“I should have had Jack install those removable boards on Ramshackle’s windows…now the unruly curs will slink in.”

He’s wordlessly setting some magical traps for those who want to reach Ramshackle

His puppy is vulnerable and they’re surrounded by a bunch of other pups that are much bigger and rougher

If anyone asks about you he’s misleading them so hard

“Stay away from (Y/n) pups especially this week!”

“Y-YES SIR!”

“Good boys. Now let’s continue working.”

Mozus Trein

“I see. How’s your pain tolerance? Will you still be able to attend class?”

Seasoned veteran right here

He’s not freaking out because he knows you probably know best

But if you couldn’t get something on campus or in the town he’s willing to do what he can

He’s mostly being the reasonable voice when everyone just doesn’t understand

Depending on your own situation he’ll give you a written list of remedies he’s followed

While silently sending Lucius to watch after you

And I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually joined Crewel in putting protections on Ramshackle

“For once we’re in agreement. I doubt the students will be able to comprehend, let alone actually be of service to her.”

Ashton Vargas

“What, why would that stop you from exercising? Don’t you know pushing through the pain is how you look like me!?”

“No no you don’t understand this pain is much different.”

“I fail to see why you should stop even still!”

“If you don’t get me off this field I’ll bleed all over it.”

“O-okay. To the nurse you go!”

“Thank you.”

He’s not sympathetic because he doesn’t understand

And unless you phrase it as some type of training or exercise he will cheer you on

“Ace that period, (Y/n)!! You’ve got this!”

Sam

“Well that’s why I just stocked up on it, just for you!”

Really the MVP when it comes to comfort

He likes to pretend he doesn’t need to but he definitely did research about it

He wasn’t about to turn his favorite baby sis-student away unsatisfied

He also knows your harem will probably come soon and he can’t wait to play matchmaker

“And here’s that (f/f) you ordered in advance and for you some (h/f). Happy eating or rather gifting.”

1K notes · View notes

holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)

time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?

word count: 6.6k tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max

Two Months Later

Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was.

He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.

But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there.

Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you.

Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.

He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time.

So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.

Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.

Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.

The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”

She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”

Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take?

He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him?

Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.

If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you.

But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial.

So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t.

No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club.

Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line.

But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it.

So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.

Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life.

And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.

Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed.

But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.

“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.

The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.

But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment.

Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan.

“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke.

The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar.

But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders.

Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.

He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”

Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair.

What he didn’t expect was you.

Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him.

You were standing right in front of him.

You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.

“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”

It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.

A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.

Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling.

He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching.

But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.

If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.

Two Weeks Earlier

You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes.

And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.

You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.

But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.

“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”

You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”

“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him.

Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.

“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”

“Well I didn’t drive it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”

“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you.

Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now.

Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them.

He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.

Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.

“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building.

“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”

It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement.

Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands.

But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work.

Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you.

I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore.

“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”

“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”

“So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”

“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.

But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.

Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”

That’s where you still conflicted.

You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months.

But you needed him gone to get over him.

Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life.

So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.

“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”

Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.

“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.

But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion.

You once loved Lando. How could you not?

You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours.

But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.

He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought.

You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”

“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”

And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally.

As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent.

You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar.

Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.

He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.

“What if things were different?”

You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous.

“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”

He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”

“Asking what if.”

Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”

“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”

There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on.

You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”

Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”

A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out.

So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I also want to apologise.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?”

This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh.

You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.

“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

Maybe he did learn something in your absence.

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.

So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist.

He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this.

You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.

So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours.

You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.

Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.

And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on.

He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.

For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.

“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.

Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you.

“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard.

“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”

“The last race.”

“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.

“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.

“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”

You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.

“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”

This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.

“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?”

You hesitated, “What about him?”

“He wants you there.”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.”

You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.

“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.

You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered.

You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre.

And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you.

So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver.

When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk.

You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life.

When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre.

You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time.

Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried.

“Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added.

Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.

You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-

“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode.

“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you.

He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk.

With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there.

“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”

That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there.

And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing.

But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.

Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms.

“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.

Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.

The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.

Well…

Not everyone.

It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre.

Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it.

Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers.

He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver.

Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.

So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.

Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned.

“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it.

He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.”

Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.

“It was never a competition you numbskull.”

Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”

Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship.

Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards.

Neither was keeping you.

But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there.

Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would.

The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if.

The thing was, though, none of it mattered.

You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before.

why am i crying lmao

and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.

i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??

love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #lando norris one shot #lando norris social media au #lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 one shot #f1 requests #f1 au #formula 1 #holllandtrash

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Baby Name List

pairing: Cowboy!Chris x Girlfriend!Reader

summary: Chris finds out about Y/n’s baby name list, and wants to put some of them to good use ASAP (girlboss!reader) (emotional Chris)

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Don’t you jus’ look fuckin’ adorable pumpkin” Chris swooned bringing his two hands to his mouth and letting out a loud whistle, tossing his hard hat, with it skilfully landing on its holder. His hands came to settle on his belt buckle, his boots clanking against the wooden floor as he approached his girlfriend, who was in nothing but one of his red plaid shirts. “Well aren’t you home early honey” She smirked, her lips red with her usual lipstick.

“Cant stay away from my sweet pie from too long, ya know me” He chuckled settling onto the leather couch beside her, his arm settling around her shoulder and landing right atop her breast, with it barely covered by the clean fabric. “How was the ranch today bubby, wasn’t too hard on ya was it?” She giggled looking up at him, kissing up his neck as she felt his hand bounce her tit in his hand and squeezing it lightly.

Chris just shook his head, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, his overgrown beard just rubbing against her skin roughly just how she liked it. “Jus got a new shipment in from North Dakota-“

“DAKOTA- right hold on big man, gotta put that name on the list” She squealed wiggling in her seat, tucking herself closer into her man’s chest, “What list baby? a vacation list? Cause let me tell you what’s in North Dakota-“

“Not a vacation list bubby, look, it’s a baby name list” She smiled clearly proud of herself, tilting the screen to show him the array of names listed on her phone, each section divided into each gender and what ones were her top 10. To her this was normal behaviour, she always wanted to be a mother and she knew damn well that her own Cowboy Chris would be the one to fulfil that.

“A-a baby name list sugar?” He asked shocked, his breath catching in his throat as his arms tugged themselves tighter around the woman in his arms, a sense of warmth and relief erupting in his heart. “Mhm, and nope it’s not up for debate cowboy, cause I know damn well you’d name her daisy or something- Wait Daisy isn’t a bad name actually” She rambled vigorously typing on her phone once again,

“You’re doin this, for our babies? Like together?” He said softly stopping her hands, causing her eyes to furrow and look up at him, “Well course, i’m hardly planning to get impregnated by another man, don’t ya want kids with me?” She snarked turning to look at him, only to laugh when she found him dazed and dreamily looking at her.

Chris’ body shuddered and grew angry at the thought of some other bastard claiming his woman, but that feeling quickly faded away by his new revelation. She wanted babies with him. “Careful honey ya might start droolin” She smacked his face lightly, before leaning in and pressing her red lips against his pink ones, pulling away to see his cheeks flushed and his hands bringing her in for another hot smooch.

“Fuck yeah I want kids with you angel, want kids with you so bad, want the white house and the picket fence n’ all that horseshit. Jus’ didn’t realise ya wanted it with me too” He breathed out, his hand mindlessly still rubbing all over her naked torso, finding itself rubbing over her stomach which he now realised would house their future. “You can be so stupid some times” Y/n laughed kissing up his neck, her hands directing his back to her breast; she always loved him just touching her body at any point, it didn’t matter what he was doing.

In fact it was quite normal to see the usual stoic Cowboy giving his long-term girlfriend foot-rubs, kisses everywhere and hugs every single second, not exaggerating. “But we can’t name her Daisy, we named the new calf that a few days ago, can’t have my babygirl twinnin with a calf” Chris grinned picking up her phone, looking at the names himself, laughing to himself every time he’d see a Disney reference.

“Well if ya would hurry up we’d have probably used about 20 of the names already bub” She pouted snatching her phone back, “That a promise?” He raised his brow looking at her, a smirk on his face as he looked down to see her exposed pussy starting to glisten with her wetness; “I say we start with the names, Myla and Mason” He whispered looking at her eyes which we now wide accompanied by a giddy smile on her smudged red lips. “Give me twins then, cowboy” She taunted tugging on his chin to bring his lips to hers, her hand guiding his to her clenching hole, starting their own rodeo of madness.

“Pumpkin ya really want this with me don’t ya? Already dreamin of bringin the tiny things to the ranch n’ teachin’ them howta ride a horse” He chuckled into her neck, his fingers continuing their assault on her bud as she uncontrollably bucked her hips up to meet his fingers. “W-want it so bad Bub, need it” She sighed out feeling his fingers enter her snug hole, the zipper on his washed out jeans being pulled down as she noticed how much they had strained against the bulge of his shaft.

“Do- Do you want this with me Chris? Tell me now, before we bring a life into this” She said meeting his eyes, her lip between her teeth trying to hold back a moan; as much as she wanted a baby so desperately, she needed to know her baby would receive love from both its momma and daddy.

“I don’t know what else I could want more pumpkin” He smiled kissing the corner of her lips, his body stiffening once she released his cock from his underwear, its red bulb shining against the light. Her thumb ran over his slit before her hands wrapped themselves around his cock, fisting it slowly and passionately; their lips still locked lovingly. “I’m not knockin’ you up on the couch baby, no way in hell, we doin’ this the proper way” Hesitatingly he pulled his lips away from hers, his lips tingling and already aching to be back on hers; in seconds he had picked her up by her thighs, giggles leaving her as she held on by his biceps.

He held her close on the bed, letting her straddle his lap whilst she cuddled into him, their bodies connected as one; his lips attached to her neck leaving behind bites of passion and ecstasy. “G’damn I love you so much baby, I-i’m not gonna last much longer honey” He breathed out against her neck, his hands splayed on her back to keep her against him at all times, their bodies providing each other heat.

“M-me too bubby, m’so close, can feel it right here to here” She whimpered pointing from her heart right to her wet centre, her lips crashing onto his swollen ones, their tongues meeting causing both their chins to become wet with each other’s saliva; a usual occurrence in this household. “I-I’m close, cum with me bubby , please” She gasped out holding onto his shoulders as she bounced faster on his cock, his hips thrusting up to meet hers.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, m’right here, on three alright? 1, 2 ,3-“

———

“If you’re not pregnant by now, then that is a miracle in itself” Chris sighed moving some of her hair to behind her shoulder, her smile sweet and lazy as she just looked up at him as if he was some sort of treat. “I love you bubba, too much even” She whispered tracing a finger down his nose before booping the tip of it, giggling when he bit onto it playfully and wouldn’t let it go.

“You have my whole heart, but I still don’t think it’s enough” He whispered back nuzzling their noses together, his arms still enclosing their bodies together, her pussy clenching around his softened shaft every so often.

———

Taglist tags (not accepting more, please use my library blog instead): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caps-shield1918 @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @cevansgurl @girl-of-multi-fandoms @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @lastwandastan @angelmather1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @keiva1000 @acornacre @thebaileybugle

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #dad chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans rpf #chris evans fandom #cowboy!chris evans #chris evans one shot #chris evans x you

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0fth34byss · 3 months

Text

(Un)welcome Distraction | Part 4

Nick Folio x female reader

Minors, please DNI

🔞⚠️: references to sex, some fluff

776 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke with a start to the sound of raised voices, almost hitting your head off the top of Nick's bunk.

“Dude! Shut the fuck up! She's still asleep,” you heard Nick hiss.

“Seriously, Folio. Fucking your girl on the bus while we're all in our bunks, like, metres away? Not cool.” Noah spat back, not bothering to keep quiet.

‘Shit. Fuck’, you thought, breaking out into a cold sweat. After a chill day off in Nashville, you'd all piled back on to the bus for the long drive up to Chicago. All but Nick and yourself decided to go straight to the bunks to get some sleep. You'd settled down in the seating area towards the back of the bus, wrapped up in Nick's arms. After a few soft kisses on your neck and your hand making its way up Nick's thigh, one thing led to another, and you ended up naked from the waist down with him between your legs. You thought you'd been quiet - at least by your standards - but apparently not.

“She's an unwelcome distraction, that's what she is,” Jolly huffed.

Jolly seemed to have the biggest problem with you being around; you’d caught him staring at you or making snide remarks when you were within earshot since you'd arrived. The others had pretty much come round to the idea of you joining them, quickly realising you had good intentions for Nick. Even Matt was warming to you now he'd discovered Nick played better when you were close by, but he was still somewhat convinced you were a fame-chasing wannabe.

“First of all, don't talk about my girl like that ever again. Yes, we had sex. We're sorry, we didn't exactly plan on it and we made sure we cleaned up after ourselves.” Nick said, getting agitated.

“Were you guys safe at least?” a genuinely concerned Matt asked.

You could hear Nick giggle, and it warmed your heart, “We've got it covered, don't worry. Thanks, Dad!”

“Let's not change the subject, especially not to Folio's sex life which, let's face it, we will literally be hearing a lot of while she's around!” Jolly piped up again.

“Jolly, chill out. Just make the effort to get to know her like the rest of us have. She's not a bad person and she's clearly madly in love with Folio,” Nicholas responded.

“I love her too. A lot. Please, guys, don't make her leave me. I promise I won't fuck her on the bus again, well, not while you guys are present anyway, but -” Nick started.

“Come here,” you heard Nicholas say, followed by some shuffling about and what sounded like hands being affectionately slapped on backs. “Group hug. We know man, we know.”

It went quiet for a while, and then you heard footsteps moving away from the bunk area. You debated getting up, but you felt your cheeks were flushed after you learnt your late night romp with Nick had most definitely been heard. At least the guys seemed okay with Nick - and you - now. Jolly, on the other hand, was clearly not a fan of yours, but you couldn't figure out what made him hate you so much. You thought it would be best to lay low, at least while you were in such close quarters.

You rolled over, facing away from the curtain, which offered the only privacy, letting out a deep sigh as you turned. What could only have been a few minutes later, the curtain was drawn back, and you felt the familiar presence of Nick climb back in the bunk. He pulled you back towards his chest and buried his head in your neck. Warmth radiated from him. He was your safe place. He was your Nick.

Allowing yourself to relax, you whispered, “Hi baby, I love you a lot too. Um, if it's going to be better for everyone I don't mind leaving after the Chicago show. I -”

“Hey, hey. Shh. No, you don't have to leave. The guys are okay now. They understand us. I'm guessing you heard that, uh, discussion. How much did you hear?"

“From Noah announcing they heard us last night when we, you know,” you let your voice trail off.

“We'll just have to work on being quieter. Well, you do anyway,” he joked.

“Hey! You're louder than me, sunshine.” You paused for a moment, then continued, "Anyway, I don't even know how or if I should ask this but, what's Jolly's problem with me?”

A deafening silence fell between the two of you, and you felt Nick's entire body tense.

“I don't think he has a problem with you, and that's the problem,” Nick finally said.

Part 5

#nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fic #nick folio x reader #nick folio x female reader #reader x nick folio #bad omens fic

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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@f4nd0m-fun here (I hope they allow us to ask with secondary blogs soon)

Just how wild do you like your Batfam cryptids? I've got ideas for days.

One is a wing fic where all the bats essentially end up half demon. Thomas and Martha make a deal with Alfred to help fix the city and clean up the curses and everything, and. Alfred asks for 'the souls of your descendants' at the point, not caring much for humanity but hoping to get ahead of those pesky demons in his soul collection (so and so said he has Constantine's soul but that's only a piece! What about a bunch of souls that have been tainted by the spirit of a city that has never had reason to hope? Now those are some rare and dark souls).

The Waynes were hoping he'd take their souls instead but he refuses (maybe they're too full of hope or something) but, over time, he grows attached and ends up giving Bruce a shard of his power, allowing him to transform into a demonic winged form based on an animal for his protection after his parents die. When he's young the form is a snowy owl, but once he come back and became Batman his wings have changed. Each of the babies is the same way. As Robin, they gain their baby wings, but, once they move to a new name, their wings evolve.

'The Demon's Head' isn't just a fancy title, the Al'ghul's are demon descended, so Damien is at least a quarter demon even at the beginning, but Alfred's power can't be passed genetically like they thought, so he was born grounded. In this, he shows up sooner, Talkia asking Jason to take Damien with him to his father since she knows her father will kill him for being wingless.

Tim, poor baby. He couldn't fly as Robin because his wings were a shattered mimicry of Jason's Robin wings. He felt like he was in the shadow of the previous Robin, making the 'replacement' nickname sting even more, but, eventually, he grows into the wings of a cardinal and learns to fly.

I'm not sure if Alfred marks Barbara as his person, but if not, maybe he regrets not doing so, thinking that she might not have ended up paralyzed if he'd given her power. But also she's not really considered a 'Wayne descendant' life the kids Bruce adopted, so he'd have to directly make the deal with her. Maybe he does this with Stephanie when she comes along, still thinking about how Barbara might've been better off with a deal. Also, he keeps trying to hold off on gathering their souls because he's grown attached. I figure he'd probably end up wanting to turn them into proper demons too tho when they eventually die but, for now, until the city has been restored (if it ever will be), the Batfam is essentially immortal, and Alfred might be pulling some strings so no one realizes the Waynes are as well. As a side note, I debated Alfred x Lady Gotham for this story.

Then I had a dpxdc version of this where the wings were still demonic in origin but basically Scarecrow and Bruce are many many family lines removed cousins from an ancestor who was siblings with Jack Nightingale. On top of that, Danny had wings but they got charred when he was electrocuted. This one also has Clock x Pariah and they have wings due to something to do with ghosts, Danny gets a cloak made out of their feathers while his ghost side slowly grows its own wings (but he'll never have wings as a living again).

-----

Sorry for the long send, I got a bit carried away, but if you want I can dig up my AU again and share what I have for the wings at least, not sure what else I've got written down.

#colony of bats AU

Honestly I love both of these ideas, but what if they were say, combined.

Alfred gifts Bruce a shard of his power- everyone knows the Waynes have wings, even if in most cases too small to fly. But the wings are feathered, usually bright and flashy for the men who inherit the trait.

Which means they're very identifiable. But like you said, Alfred gets (ugh) attached to this little mortal. He's practically raised him and honestly thinks it's adorable watching him manipulate the other richfolk at galas into thinking he's such a "polite young man." Bruce is practically his baby!

So he gifts him a bit of his blood (which we know via Constantine can extend ones lifespan including giving them a bit of healing) and an itty bitty piece of his own power. Just enough for Bruce to be able to willingly call upon it. Just enough for him to disappear into shadows. Just enough for his eyes to gain a hint of an unholy glow. Just enough for a hint of claws. Just enough for feathered wings to shift into jagged mimicries of his own.

You know what could be an interesting thing? The wings are Realms in origin. We know the FentonNightingales separated into the Fentons and Nightingales some time after Jack, so whose to say that the Nightingales didn't get into magic. Perhaps they were given a gift to thank them after a bit of protection or assistance. And the infinite realms are well, infinite. It attaches to all worlds, including say the more demonic ones. But whose to say none of the Fentons made a deal or three in the generations following. They were witch hunters after all, perhaps they need something to keep up with the "traitors" of their bloodline.

Perhaps a deal which resulted in those matching wings.

Now, how could they find out their relation with the Fentons? While there could be the adoption route, what if instead it was right after Danny's accident.

He died screaming, visibly got electrocuted, his wings are torched, there's no way they're not taking him to the hospital. Which means things like blood tests, maybe even a donated organ or two because someone doesn't get blasted with that much electricity without consequences.

Which, it's the batfamily, they definitely have alarms set up for any sort of family pings for both themselves and their rogues. Just in case.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also had no idea where to put it but if this includes demons and ghosts feeding on fear, or emotions in general, then Scarecrow could be instinctively attempting to feed and grow his wings. Also he deserves raven or rook wings. Maybe a jay's if you wanna go for color.

Oh my gosh, even if Alfred and Gotham don't get together, they definitely have tea together and spar. They're definitely co-parenting either platonically or romantically, it doesn't matter this is their specialist lil boy. Who then brings even more of the specialist lil ones ever!

God I love the implications of Clockwork and Pariah creating a cloak of wings for a ghostling for them to use as their feathers slowly grow back. Love what that implies for the culture of the ghost zone. Love the idea of it maybe having an influence on Danny's wings in ghost form since a ghost's appearance is influenced by their image about themself.

#ask answered #batman au #batman #dc #dcu #dcxdp #dpxdc #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #normally I don't really like demon aus #but this is honestly really interesting in implications #I am honestly here for this and am very interested #Would the batfam also get wings (that is feathered ones)#What is Constantine's reaction to Batman #Does it ping similar to a half-demon or something else #Does he just think it's a Gotham thing since like 3+ portals to hell have been opened there #I honestly don't think Alfred would let Jason die #Like demon blood is actually kinda OP in the DC world #We've seen Constantine stabbed through the center (like practically split in half hotdog style) and heal pretty freakin easy #Okay but wings #like wing ideas #Jack has condor wings (very big & also death implications)#Danny deserves lil dove wings as bby before they're scorched #They deserve to be similar to galaxy when grown back #White flecks from Clockwork & the darker bits from Pariah with hints of his own colors swirling together #Jazz has either a finch's wings or cockatoos #OH #Bruce has nicobar pigeon wings #Closest living relative of the dodo #And it is Gorgeous

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slvt4lanadelrey · 11 months

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Bonus: Nothing but a game; a game I'm still willing to play, if you'll let me | Wednesday Addams

(Long ass title 😭😭)

Warnings: Xavier, blood, swearing, mention of touching without consent (when Xavier touched Wednesday shoulder) Wednesday being Wednesday

Part One- Nothing but a game.

Part two- Nothinh but a game; a game I'm still willing to play.

Part Three-

Xavier scrunched his face in disgust when he saw Wednesday take off after you. He grunted, lifting his limp body off the floor; he stared, blank eyes at his 'friends'

"Why didn't none of you defend me?" He shouted, his hand still wrapped around his nose; blood still trickling down his skin.

Enid stood up, abruptly.

"Wednesday was so obviously uncomfortable then, if Y/N didn't have done it I would have smacked you back to next Friday." The blonde shouted on behalf of her friend, Yoko nodding in agreement.

Xavier stretched out his arm, his fingers drowning in blood.

"Ajax, your supposed to be my bro? What the fuck." Xavier whined out, sitting down on the chair that was labeled with his own name.

Ajax felt the harsh claw of Enid on his bicep, daring him to speak against her.

"Xavier, you're my bro. But Y/N, is my bro too. She didn't do nothing to deserve this, you messed with her girl." Xavier rolled his eyes, fuming with anger.

"You're a dick." Bianca came storming into the room, slamming her drink into Xavier's face.

"You didn't just make me feel stupid and abliterate any chance of us getting back together. You also made Wednesday so fucking uncomfortable with yo-your unwanted touches and you pissed off Y/N, who is seething at the thought of your greasy ass hair." Bianca screamed, warning the boy infront of her. Xavier gulped down his pride, rushing out of the hall before any more chaos could unravel.

"So..did Y/N get the girl?" Enid giggled, swaying on her feet. Bianca shrugged, looking at the blonde briefly.

"I don't know, their talking right now."

The group waited, antys for your arrival. The night shifted, turning into day. The group had long gone; leaving the hall, and was sleeping quietly in their bedrooms, soundless snorning into the husk of the night.

Wednesday hair was drawn into lose curls, no sign of her tight pigtails. She was stiffly sleeping, her arms pressed into her chest; sleeping like a vampire, well the stereotypical vampire.

Your body was tossing and turning, unable to shake off the way Wednesday so easily bashed you to her friends. Your body was jolted awake, Wednesday's hand touching your chest; forcing her head up and her nose to dribble with blood.

"Y/N. I assure you, Xavier means nothing to me, nothing at all. He's simply a wasp in my hives of bees." She assured you, pressing her palm into your cheek; cooing your fears, stroking your cheek softly.

"I know. Its just, why would he say that." Your body limped up, resting into your bedframe. Wednesday sighed, knowing full well she wasn't getting anymore sleep.

"Hes a cretin." She stated, mumbling through her sleep laced tone. You hummed, sniffling your laughter at how she looked. Her hair was finally free, her eyes were drawn into a tired stare, lips glossed with lip balm and skin glistening with her daily moisturiser.

Xavier wasn't able to sleep either, with every movement his nose would push into his pillow. Even though the soft material had always been a comfortable source of warmth for the boy, all he felt was scorching pain each time his body would move.

"Stop moving!" Ajax pleaded. He debated whether to flash his snakes, show them off to stone the boy who wasn't giving the peace of quite to sleep.

"Why would she do that to me!" Xavier cried, groaning into the silence. Ajax huffed, his eyes rolling back at the common conversation he found himself listening to, due to Xavier's rants.

"Like, I asked Wednesday to go with me. Sure, I carried on to ask, I sort of...well I asked!" Xavier stumbled, rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, cursing Wednesday Addams.

"Move on. She liked Y/N, you forced her to date you, you didn't win." Ajax pleaded, his eyes clenching shut.

"Or, just shut up!"

Your hands were interlocked with Wednesday, her forcing you to go to your lessons. You grumbled behind her, pleading with no avail.

"Y/N, I'm not going to date an uneducated person. It's sad enough I'm dating, let alone someone who's beneath me." Wednesday snapped back, barking at you like some dog.

"Since when didn't you like me under you?" You grumbled, crossing your arms as you glared uncomfortably at her.

"How dare-" Wednesday spinned, glaring at you through her fringe.

"Oh M Gee" Enid howled, charging towards the both of you and held you and Wednesday in a tight grasp.

"My besties love each other!" The commotion caused majority of the class to snap their heads back, including Xavier. He slammed his fist into his desk, walking towards you and Wednesday.

He poked his finger into Wednesday's chest.

"Your fucking joking me. You seriously can't be serious? Her! Out of everyone, you picked that thing." Xavier snarled, gritting his teeth. His jaw was slat, constricting the growl that launched out of his mouth.

"That thing, you are referring to is my girlfriend. And absolutely, I chose her over you. You brute like creature never had and will never have my heart." Wednesday snapped right back, walking into the finger that slammed into her chest.

Xavier trembled under her harsh eyes, them no longer having any hint of brown; fully black, murky with murderous thoughts.

"Do you hear me?"

Xavier nodded, walking like a scolded dog; sniffling through the aisles of chairs, acting like a tail was between his legs.

"Anyways, my love. Where do you want to sit?"

#jenna ortega #jennaortega #lgbt #tara carpenter #wlw #gxg #vada cavell #lorraine day #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addmas x fem #wednesday addams #wednesday #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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idolomantises · 1 year

Text

talking abt that one thing in velma thats on my mind a lot for the past few days (that turned into a big incoherent rambling about gay rep in media)

i'm seeing jokes about how the queer representation in mystery inc being so much better than the queer representation in velma and honestly it makes me want to go on a whole tangent about my thoughts on queer representation nowadays vs the more subtle examples decades prior.

There's this weird debate that goes on online about what is "good" queer representation, and one of the most notable and honestly annoying examples is that queer representation has to be so subtle that you could easily miss it/ignore it. i've always hated that take because its a claim mostly said by straight people who are uncomfortable with seeing characters who are openly queer and/or state their identity, but they present it as some sort of push for subtle and nuanced writing. personally i do prefer it when a character just, identifies as how they are without explaining their identity, but that doesn't mean flat out explaining your orientation is inherently bad representation. its why i will always defend the very clunky and awkward high guardian spice scene. it is absolutely poorly directed and written, but that doesn't make it "bad representation". however, I do consider the character who explains that he's trans bad representation because he is flat, uninteresting and very clearly a creator self insert. he doesn't feel like a well rounded character who's also a trans man, but just an incredibly sanitized example of trans representation.

i have many, many issues with helluva boss/hazbin hotel and i do genuinely find some depictions of queer characters just flat out offensive (you can argue with me about how angel dust being written like your average 90s gay stereotype is woke actually because he has trauma, i dont care), but i do admire and appreciate that the series doesn't want to sanitize its queer characters, even if its done poorly. though i could go into a whole rant about how i find it very telling that female characters that are queer are far less sexualized or allowed to be problematic compared to their queer male counterparts.

anyways back to velma. that show does something that i've always found pretty irritating in queer representation which is just this weird lack of faith in its audience. characters can't have a slow burn anymore. internalized thoughts, anger, frustration, longing. you have to immediately know that two characters are gay for each other, even if they're lifelong enemies. its like when modern horror movies open with the gore because they're scared people are going to be bored or leave early. there's no subtlety or chemistry between daphne and velma, they're just lovers because idk, its two girls who hate each other and who doesn't love that.

then i think about how mystery inc handled velma and her sexuality, how she was allowed to be well rounded and nuanced before you slowly realize that "oh, she doesn't like boys". i know her whole thing with shaggy is controversial among fans but i always loved how she does do something pretty unlikable but not immoral. yeah, it is shitty to force shaggy to choose between her and his dog, but i can understand her line of thinking and empathize with her. and i do like how they become friends in the end despite their awkward break up. It's always fun rewatching it and realizing that their incredibly awkward and cringe relationship was meant to be awkward and cringe. it was supposed to be weird and difficult to watch, because those two weren't meant to date each other. you could see how hard velma was trying to make the relationship work despite the fact that you never get the vibe that either character was full invested in it, unlike daphne and fred's relationship.

then you had velma and her relationship with marcie, which started off as sort of a catty rivalry (not full on attempted murder, i mean holy shit hbo velma) that slowly grows to where you're completely convinced that these two did gradually like each other. and i do really enjoy stuff like that, more subtle writing like that. which doesn't just apply to queer rep btw, my favorite ships are relationships that feel understated, something you have to really dig for and pay attention to. its why i consider bubbline the best f/f representation in cartoon. because its subtle, but not too subtle where it feels out of no where when they kiss, and nuanced in ways that enhances the relationship AND characters.

there's a good amount of relationships i see in cartoons where the creator, who is usually queer themselves, often wants to depict queer relationships, but is weirdly adverse to depicting the uglier aspects of that character, and refuses to add subtlety to it. steven universe is a show i've always felt conflicted on its handling of queer representation because on the one hand i appreciate writing lesbians that are messy, traumatized and make constant mistakes. but on the other hand, the show goes out of its way to ignore these issues and/or make excuses for it, making the decision to make these characters messy and complicated genuinely baffling (this is also one of the big issues i have with catradora and stolitz).

it makes me think back to my own work too. i really enjoy making fluffy, easily digestible gay content for my followers and myself because it puts me in a good headspace. But even now and then i like exploring those little nuances too, because i don't really enjoy stories with little conflict. Because of that acknowledgement of how satisfying it is to write fluffy, queer rep, you end up putting yourself in other creator's shoes. you're so used to media that either dehumanizes gay people or tells people that they don't exist that you push yourself to make the most in your face queer rep you can but its at the cost of an interesting and subtle characters. characters that don't really have arcs or places to learn and grow.

With bugtopia i made a joke about how i want some of my queer rep to feel like you're being queerbaited. It's not literal, obviously, but mixed in with characters who are already married and in same gender relationships, i really want to write dynamics that feel subtle enough for a bit of a slow burn. even if you know they're going to end up together, to at least value the characters on their own before centering them on their relationships. queerbaiting is something that deserves all the criticism it can get, but it is embarrassing when queerbaiting feels genuinely more interesting than actual queer rep because queerbaiting has that factor of "maybe they won't get together" that adds that bit of intrigue, vs so many shows that repeatedly hammer in your head "don't worry guys, they're gonna be lesbian lovers".

mystery inc (and many other shows) being forced to keep a relationship obvious while subtle to get through censorship really forced creators to be creative with their storytelling and not center characters around their relationship and identity. but nowadays i think shows like to take the easy way out. for me, i always thought the most impactful example of queer representation in steven universe is "Rose's Scabbard". I genuinely don't enjoy that episode because it's a good example of the show thinking that trauma is an excuse for shitty behavior, but i cant deny that an entire episode of pearl breaking down and finally accepting that she wasn't the center of rose's world. it's the crew being forced to be creative and push through censors to telling a compelling story about a traumatized lesbian slowly realizing that she basically deluded herself into thinking she was someone's savior.

I think it's silly to try to place good queer representation in one box. like subtle queer rep is good, but also queer rep where a character flat out states that their gay. where I think it falls apart is when it either reinforces stereotypes without properly deconstructing or expanding on them, makes the characters so overly kind and non-controversial that the relationship is just boring, or try to make your messy and complicated characters but the narrative refuses to hold them accountable or at least acknowledge that they're doing something wrong. and to clarify on that last part, i'm not asking for some hays code nonsense where every bad person goes to prison and/or promises to stop being a bad person again. i mean the narrative doesnt just fucking sugarcoat their behavior. i don't want to see helluva boss ignore the fact that stolas made blitzo call him out for only using him for sex and then pathetically rush to justify their relationship by giving them a bizarrely sanitized and sweet backstory. and i don't want to see catra literally end the fucking universe and only do something good because she's straight up out of options and the show just decides that that was her redemption and she doesn't need to do anything to atone for what she did (including repeatedly abusing and verbally berating adora).

anyways velma has none of those interesting qualities and i'm pretty sure daphne and velma kissed because the creator is a weird pervert who thinks two girls kissing is hot.

#txt #i was thinking abt knocking off some of my longer posts on my tumblr but ya know its tumblr. its made for a blog #twitter isnt really a good place to write think pieces because its not really made for thinkpieces #i really enjoy expressing my thoughts on discourse and media but i don't want to over do it because ya know. you guys followed me for my ar #not my 2434334th post about why i think helluva boss is a bad show #but i've been thinking about sometimes prioritizing what i want to do vs what people want to see from me. so now you're getting #a long ass rant about why i think velma showing two teenagers kissing by episode 2 #encapsulates the overall issue with modern queer rep

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desire-mona · 8 days

Text

more modern poets hcs for greenie!

charlie -

charlie used to post like "annoying gay ppl vs normal gay ppl" memes, had a huge turnaround and they cringe when they think of that time. mentioning blaire white or kalvin garrah would make him jump

has an "i <3 milfs" design of every article of clothing, could make an entire i <3 milfs outfit. shirt, hat, pants, socks, belt, shoes, hoodie, you name it.

todd -

todd is nonbinary bc he is autistic and autistic ppl generally view gender differently. not debating this. this is a fact and this is canon. they/he/she todd anderson, what of it.

chronic procrastinator when it comes to anything besides school. they will put off doctors appointments, finishing tv shows, even charging their phone.

neil -

doesnt use tiktok but he watches todd scroll thru her fyp sometimes and gets very mad at those "acting pov" videos. hes like "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ACTING POINT OF VIEW" "POINT OF VIEW YOU ONLY HAVE A LIMITED NUMBER OF WORDS???????? WHAT DOES THAT MEEEEEAN"

i see ppl saying that neil would be a swiftie but i would like to suggest that he's a big ethel cain fan, a collection of songs that tell a fictional character's story? tell me thats not right up his alley

meeks -

i dont think this is the type of math meeks bases a career off of but i do think he rly pays attention to architecture and city layouts and stuff. will forever complain abt how inconvenient it is to have a car centered society and how every place should be walkable OR have public transport

collects records despite not having a record player, tapes despite not having a walkman, and cds despite using his cd player maybe 3 times a year. quite honestly its just to have a physical collection of his music taste

pitts -

pitts went thru a "nice guy/ vaguely incel-ular" phase in middle school, but he didnt talk to a singular woman in those years. by the time it went away there was no harm done to anyone but himself and a very annoyed meeks who had to listen to how girls "only go for assholes"

he has a fashion sense so good that ppl online *ask* him to post fit checks, he doesnt do any if theyre not requested of him. pitts is also the one with the biggest online presence, most notably tiktok and twitter

knox -

type of guy to constantly post shit like "like for a tbh" or post anonymous question things on his story. nobody interacts with any of it so he usually just deletes them after half a day

haaaaaaaates texting and will either send very long voice messages or just ask to call whoever he's talking to (me fr i send ppl voice msgs almost exclusively)

cameron -

cam is suuuuuuuper creeped out by ai "art", especially the ai washing feet commercial during the superbowl, which he had nightmares about for a week

his parents are constantly trying weird diets (most notably keto) so he has the weirdest assortment of random ingredients in his pantry. has come up with the strangest "meals" any one of those boys have ever seen

#desire mona #hopefully this drowns out the unrelated dark academia posts and taylor swift screenshots #yall today is hc post day pls fill the dps tag with dps stuff #dead poets society #charlie dalton #todd anderson #neil perry #steven meeks #gerard pitts #knox overstreet #richard cameron #banger #mona mentioned user flaming green

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

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hiiii id like to request a reaction for ateez members pls. can it be about the reader dating a member but her bias was someone else in the group, idk it seems like such a fun concept if u could please. it could be fluff/ angst whatever u want

and can the hongjoong one be a mingi bias whereas the mingi one is a hongjoong bias (my bias and bias wrecker is showing severely hehe)

everything else can be whatever u want :))

ateez when their s/o's bias is another member

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: cursing, they vary in length tbh so sorry about that

author's notes: oh boy have i been waiting for this request! this is such a fun concept and i really enjoyed writing this so thank you for requesting!! hope you're doing well and hope this is to your liking! let me know what you thought love <33

hongjoong

"and that one rapper? he's so hot! i think he's actually my favourite."

hongjoong was watching one of your old youtube videos; a reaction video to ateez. this is when you first heard about them and wanted to get into their music years ago. who would've thought that life would end up here? you dating one of the members of ateez.

hongjoong giggled at your statement, "awww you loved me from the very beginning" he teased as you read your book on the other side of the room, half embarrassed and half entertained that he was watching that video.

"actually i was talking about mingi," you said cheekily, not even bothering to look up from your book.

all you were met with was silence. too much silence that consequently caused you, after long last, to raise your head and investigate.

and what you saw was a half glare and a big pout on hongjoong's face.

"aww baby don't be sad," you giggled as you went over to him and wrapped your arms around him, "your my favourite now!" you started placing your lips on his neck, trailing then softly in just the right spots, softening him up again.

"and you always will be~

seonghwa

"so." seonghwa's voice sounded from next to you. you were both cuddled up on the couch together, watching an uninteresting sitcom to pass the time. there was something quite dangerous about the smoothness of seonghwa's voice, but you couldn't quite place what.

"when were you gonna tell me yunho was your bias?"

your heart dropped. you quickly glanced at his face to see a unimpressed expression looking back at you.

"h-how did you even-"

"lockscreen."

oh shit. you were fairly new into your relationship with seonghwa, so forgetting to change your lockscreen to something that didn't scream 'i love jeong yunho so much #slay' would've been wise.

"you idiot," seonghwa teased and chuckled lowly, looking back to the tv screen, shaking his head. you pouted and nudged him in response.

"hey! call me an idiot and i'll keep the lockscreen as it is!"

yunho

"well this is awkward."

san said with a massive beaming smile in his face as he continued to go about his day, washes the dishes innocently as if he wasn't the main cause of an argument.

yunho tutted and looked back at you disapprovingly whilst you stuttered and trained to explain yourself.

"she's an admirer, what can i say?" san mused loudly to himself, making yunho gnash his teeth in frustration.

"shut it, you," he hissed at his roommate who merely chuckled in reply. he had never seen yunho jealous before and, to be honest, he found it highly amusing. mostly because yunho looked like a hurt puppy who had lost its way home.

"this doesn't mean anything," you say to your sulky boyfriend, slide your hands of his shoulders, "i love you the most. on the world."

"that's debatable-"

"san!"

"okay, okay..."

yeosang

"jongho is just really cool, okay?"

you sat opposite your boyfriend in a cafe as he took a long slurp of his coffee, not once breaking eye contact with you. he had been interrogating you about this topic for quite some time now, ever since he found out you had a soft spot for jongho.

"cooler than me?" he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and twisted the coffee cup in his hands, looking at you with immense interest.

"i never said that," you retorted, "you're just... different!"

"different how?" yeosang pressed on, not giving you a very easy time as he humorously continued to question you.

"well... i just love his voice," you said in a dreamy voice, "like every time i hear him singing i feel i'm ascending into the heavens!"

"well you'd say the same with me if i got more lines!" yeosang threw a used napkin at you and chuckled at his own joke.

san

"what do you mean i'm not your bias?"

your disheartened boyfriend had the biggest, plumpest pout on those lips of his as he looked at your with shiny puppy eyes. this was all news to him and honestly he felt like his whole world fell apart. "i'm dating you am i not??"

"yeah but-" you tailed off innocently, but there was nothing you could say to calm this man's humorously dramatic expression.

"who's your bias then?" he demanded, feigning anger with the twinge of sarcasm in his voice. you knew better to keep your mouth shut.

"if its wooyoung i swear to god, y/n-"

"it's not!"

"..."

"... you liar!"

he playfully grabbed a pillow and started hitting you with it as you giggled mischievously. you couldn't help but laugh at his childishness. it was no big deal, right?

mingi

you, mingi and hongjoong sat in the living room together in silence. for hongjoong, he just went about his business, laptop on his lap as he typed away doing some sort of work. but you and mingi were avoiding eye contact, avoiding talking. avoiding literally everything except breathing.

it was only a matter of time before hongjoong caught onto this. and as he looked from you, to mingi, and then back to you again, he knew there was soemthing wrong.

"what's up with you guys?" he asked suspiciously, lowering his laptop screen slightly.

"nothing, nothin-"

"y/n loves you more than me."

"wha- mingi!" you lightly slapped his arm defensively, "mingi is mad that you're my bias. that's all. nothing deep." your voice was high and strained as mingi crossed his arms Iver his chest.

"wait," hongjoong started grinning proudly, "... i'm your bias?"

by this time mingi was fuming and glaring daggers into hongjoong, striking fear into the leader.

"ehem that's not important," hongjoong coughed nervously, "that doesn't mean anything!"

"exactly!" you chimed in, "see mingi?"

you nudged him gently now, but the gaze he gave you in return did not look so convincing.

wooyoung

"i get it, he's more handsome than me."

this made you laugh. not because it was true or you were making fun of your boyfriend, but more with how you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

but after the minutes went by and the unusual coldness and silence from wooyoung continued, you realised that he was actually upset about this.

"oh woo, don't be like that," you leaned over to grab his hand, "you're not being serious are you?"

"well you like my best friend more than me. why wouldn't i be upset about this?" he lucked his dry lips and cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowed.

"because you're my number one," you leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. and then another. and then another. so many sloppy kisses had been peppered all over his face by the time he started giggling and smiling again. you had won him over!

jongho

"seonghwa looks like such an angel," you stared with sparkly eyes at the screen in front of you as you watched the new ateez music video for their latest comeback.

jongho couldn't help but notice that your attention was mostly fixated on seonghwa in the video. you complimented his handsomeness, his voice, the lines he had, the way he fit the concept perfectly. he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed.

"yeah seonghwa looks great," he muttered and cleared his throat, watching the music video with you.

"you look handsome too," you quickly added, realising you hadnt said anything about your actual boyfriend because eoyu were too busy gawking over your bias.

"oh no its too late for that now!" jongho said playfully and poked your side, causing you to let out a half yelp, half laugh.

"i'm sorry baby, i just got... distracted?"

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