#door. And you think you will be drowned when you do but he is so soothing. And he walks with you
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free ride
summary: friction, spontaneous gifts, and revelations on a ride home + a little insta au at the end 💌
words: 673
a/n: a short blurb! haven't written in months but may post sporadically. tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz just because. any and all feedback much appreciated as always! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼
“You can be so clingy sometimes.” Lando let out a sigh, one that was tinged with deep disapproval. He continued to hastily shove his belongings into the duffel bag you had gifted him mere weeks ago. Standing in the hallway, your mind couldn’t help but play back the memory of a happier time.
-
“You’ve gotten me a gift and it’s not even my birthday. If this is a taste of what a lifetime with you looks like, sign me up!”
Lando twirled with the sleek leather bag over his shoulder. Qatar Airways had lost his prized duffel (another “perk” of being a frequent flyer). While you were well aware he could easily afford a replacement, the sheer thought of giving back to him put a smile on your face.
“Check the luggage tag,” you said. He turned it over in his hand, revealing the number one engraved in gold.
“You do realize my driver number is four, right? Or was this meant for Max?“ He said, his lips turning upwards in a cheeky grin.
“Shut up, I just wanted you to show you how much I believe in you—my future world champion.”
“How did I get so lucky?” He pulled you close, cupping your face with both hands before planting a kiss on your forehead.
-
You shook yourself out of it as the front door slammed, realizing your vision start to blur. With 24 races on the calendar and work keeping you in London, it wasn't a total shock that things had gone south. Yet as you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn't decipher if it was Lando speaking or just the exhaustion from a 13-hour flight getting to him. All you did was ask if he wanted to join you for dinner with friends tonight, and he’d deemed you “clingy.”
-
You heard your phone buzz on the kitchen island as you grabbed the keys. It was Ashley calling. He’d call you on occasion when Lando asked him to but it surprised you nonetheless. He sounded worried as he explained that Lando wasn't feeling well at the MTC and needed someone to pick him up. Feeling a sense of urgency, you quickly shifted gears, realizing that you’d have to take a rain check on tonight’s plans.
-
Lando looked pale and small as he climbed into the passenger’s side of your car. You tried to help him in but he swatted your hands away, a lingering reminder of the tension between you. You turned up the radio to drown out the deafening silence when you suddenly heard his voice.
“I’m sorry about this morning.” You could just make out his eyes shifting from the window to you in your peripheral vision. To be perfectly honest, you hadn’t expected an apology out of him so soon.
“I never meant to tell you this but the thought of you walking away from me and us…Well, just thinking about it makes me queasy. I was on the sim and I realized I’d hurt you and my mind started spiraling and-”
You pulled the car over to the side of the road as his breathing shallowed.
“Hey, everything’s going to be fine.” You wiped the tears from his face and placed your hand on his thigh. It took a few minutes but you saw the color gradually return to his face.
“Anywhere you want to go? It’s rare you let me drive so I’m taking it all in.”
“Up to you. I’m just here for the free ride.” He giggled.
“Free, huh? Well, this girl charges in secrets. So, where’s Carlos headed next season?”
Lando ran his hands through his curls, a nervous tick of his.
"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
He flashed a devilish grin, his eyes twinkling in the evening glow. As much as you despised the complications that came with all the time zones and miles apart, there was no doubt you'd find your way back to each other at the end of each day.
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 41,414 others
yourusername: i cry a lot but i am so productive! it's! an! art!
fan1: love that she's a swiftie but is lando the reason behind all her crying 🤨
fan2: if so, it's on sight!!!
landonorris: begging you to clear my name and confirm i am, in fact, the world's best boyfriend
yourusername: i love you but what did we say about a growth mindset?
carlossainz55: humble him, reina 🤭
yourbestfriend: love the fact that pimm fits perfectly in your 🚲 basket
pietra.pilao: soooo much love for you ❤️
#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris edit#lando norris#f1 x you#lando norris fluff#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 instagram au#lando norris one shot#lando norris instagram edit#lando norris angst
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Hihi, i wanted to make a request (if it’s open) Your last aventurine and welt pieces were beautiful 🩷
Dr ratio hasn’t gotten the time to spend time with you lately and he works hard, but you are his supportive spouse so you bring him snacks and remind him to take breaks in between and kiss the cheek of his alabaster head as a treat (he has it on) before you do your own work. Now all he can think about is you for the rest of the day (perhaps he would have preferred it on his skin too)
If you don’t write for him that’s fine ^^
No need to rush, tyt! ☁️
YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU.
HUSBAND!RATIO x GN!READER
WARNINGS: annoyed Ratio, jealousy over an inanimate object (?), drowning in work. 2nd person POV (you/yours/yourself)
WORD COUNT: 494
AUTHOR NOTE: i know what you are👀
The day was slow at the Intelligentsia Guild, especially for the infamous Dr. Ratio.
Since the day began, all he has been doing is deal with insufferable morons with a worn-out shoe for a brain! Such imbeciles, Ratio believes time is precious, but unfortunately his students are dumb enough to waste it, even dumber to waste his time by asking how old he is or if he’s single or not.
Those fools don’t have to know that at-work Dr. Ratio is different than at-home Veritas, and can’t they figure out the question themselves by paying the slightest bit of attention to the silver band on his left hand’s ring finger? His attitude should’ve intimidated them enough for their minds to not go beyond the assumption that all he does at home is shower, eat work and sleep.. right? At least, that’s what he thinks.
However, he hasn’t been paying enough attention to the beautiful person sharing the other ring with him; the one he said his vows to. All he does when he goes back home is shower, eat, work and sleep. That’s it. He doesn’t even have time to glance your way, and that angers him.
He put on his alabastor head; His expression was too sour to welcome anyone who dares enter his office besides higher-ups. And just as he was about to start working in peace, a knock erupted at his office’s door, great. Ratio grumbled quietly. “Come in.” He spoke in an authoritative tone, expecting this to be a higher-up or an idiot student.
You open the door, a box in your hand, and a wide smile that rivals the sun in its shiny glory. “Veritas!” You call out as a greeting, before rushing to his desk. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll make this quick. You forgot your lunch at my office,” Oh, so that’s where his lunch went. You also worked at the Intelligentsia Guild, also being a teacher of high regard. Opposites attract, they say. All of your students love you, and you’re friends with everyone; An obvious contrast from your husband. You place the lunchbox on his desk with your left hand, the band on your ring finger glistening in the sunlight, the source being the window behind Veritas’ chair.
You then lean in and kiss the cheek of the alabastor head, then the lips. It wasn’t enough, since the head lacked the warmth of skin, but you were content. You give him a smile before you head out the door, just like that.
Ratio slowly took off the alabastor head, looking at it in disgust as if it owes him something. It does, it took away his lover’s kisses. As childish as it sounds, he’s been craving a kiss for a while. He supposes he has to wait until he goes back home, maybe he’ll get all the kisses he wants. In exchange of his work being put aside, even for a little while.
#honkai star rail#dr ratio#veritas ratio#hsr ratio#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail ratio#ratio x reader#ratio x you#hsr fanfic#hsr fandom#hsr x reader#star rail
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my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue
just a lil something, completely self indulgent and inspired by miranda and steven in s2 of sex & the city 😔🥺
warnings: angst😤; a little fluffy; soft!rafe because i personally LOVE him
you did it without thinking.
it felt as if your body had a mind of its own and while your brain yelled at you to stay put and act normal, your heart simply didn’t allow it. your feet pounded against the street pavement, each step echoing the racing of your heart. you didn’t dare to look back, afraid that if you did, you’d crumble under the weight of your memories with him rushing back. the sound of your breath filled your ears, drowning out the chaos of the main street.
rafe.
the name echoed in your mind like some sort of haunted melody. you didn’t expect to see him, not after so many months without a single glimpse of his perfect face. you’d broken up months ago, you were supposed to be over him. and yet, despite all your attempts, his presence still stirred something within you.
this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.
you rounded the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was fine. so what if he was back in town? so what if he didn’t call you? so what if you two promised to stay friends and yet…it’s none of your business. you should be thankful.
but seeing him out of the blue, it was like a sucker punch to the gut, except it felt like it came from a hundred directions at once. maybe you just needed a minute to process all of it. maybe a venti latte and some retail therapy would do the trick.
except they didn’t and hours later, here you are, stuck to your couch wondering how the hell you are supposed to step foot outside knowing there’s a possibility you might run into him again.
your brain always goes into overdrive when you think of rafe cameron. and now you’re stuck here, overthinking every little thing. should you text him? would that be too desperate? but what if he's thinking the same thing?
and if he isn’t?
there's a sudden knock on your apartment door, the sound cuts through the haze of your mind, jolting you back to reality. you reluctantly peel yourself off the couch and shuffle over to the door, wondering if that amazon package you ordered this morning is here already.
you glance towards the peephole, debating whether to check who it is or simply ignore it. after a moment of internal deliberation, curiosity wins out, and you approach the door cautiously.
you peer through the peephole, half expecting to see a stranger or maybe the mailman with a package. but to your surprise—it's rafe.
holy fuck.
your breath catches in your throat as you take in his familiar face from up close, a jumble of emotions stirring inside you.
what's he doing here? how did he get your new address? you moved from your parent’s home just a month ago.
for a beat, you’re frozen. no one taught you how to proceed in these kinds of situations, but you are fairly certain letting an ex-boyfriend, the one you’re still in love with, inside your personal space is a big no-no.
should you open the door? pretend you’re not home? smash your head against a wall and pray it knocks you out instantly? before you can even begin to form a plan, there's another knock, this time a little more insistent, as if he knows you’re on the other side.
“i can hear you breathing.”
panic sets in.
summoning whatever fake bravery you have left, you take a deep breath and reluctantly twist the doorknob. with your hands trembling like crazy, you swing the door open, revealing rafe standing there.
you gulp, feeling like your throat's suddenly decided to go on strike “yeah-uh. hi!”
his hands are clutched behind his back and his eyes take turns between your face and the door. there's a slight furrow in his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the curve of his nice cheekbones.
“that was a shitty thing you did. running away from me on the street.”
you feel a crazy amount of guilt wash over you. he’s not wrong. running away like that was cowardly, but did he expect you to run into him with open arms?
“i didn’t run?”
his lips, usually set in a determined line, now quiver ever so slightly, “you ran.”
the weight of what you did hangs over you like a dark cloud. could you have acted any more immaturely?
“well, i wasn’t expecting to see you-“ you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky, “and-and, i-“
“it really hurt my feelings.” rafe's finger points accusingly at his chest, and you feel like you’re about to shrink into the floor under the weight of his disappointment.
you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. you can feel your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears and you use every remaining strength inside you not to cry in front of him. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.
“i don’t deal very well with ex-boyfriends?”
his expression softens slightly, and he leans his weight against the doorframe, his eyes searching yours.
“hey, sweetheart, this is me.” his hand moves again and he gently places it on his chest, right over his heart, as if trying to convey the sincerity of his words “rafe.”
but he’s not your rafe anymore.
that’s the one thing you want to tell him. you chew on your lower lip wondering if honesty would do you any good right now. if it would erase all these months, weeks, days, hours, without him.
a moment of silence stretches between you, and then, after what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to utter a response.
"yeah..."
rafe's gaze remains fixed on you, “i held you while you were sleeping.”
if you weren’t crying before, you are now. it's like a dam has burst inside you. tears stream down your face like a leaky faucet, nothing strong enough to hold them back. they're not the dainty tears you see in movies, but big, ugly cries that leave your mascara streaked and your nose running.
you try to speak, but all that comes out are choked sobs and sniffles. it's embarrassing, really, how out of control you feel. but you can't help it even as your front neighbor comes into view.
you do quick 180 and bolt back into your apartment, hand pressed against your forehead as if holding it will stop the raging headache you’re about to experience. you don’t have to look back to know rafe’s following you, trailing inside and swiftly closing the door with a soft click.
"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "i’m really sorry. i’m so sorry-“
rafe's hands reach out, his palms open as if he's dealing with a wounded animal.
"hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance, "it's okay.”
“i hadn’t seen you in so long,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, “and i missed you and then i did that shit-“
his hand envelops yours, his touch grounding you. "hey, breathe," he urges softly, “it’s okay.”
tears well up in your eyes again, blurring your vision as you struggle to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "’m sorry," you choke out, voice breaking with each syllable. "i'm so sorry, rafe."
“it wasn’t that shitty, okay?” rafe's expression softens further, the way it does only for you.
“it was! i’m a shitty person.”
his thumb gently brushes away your tears as he shakes his head slowly. "no, you're not.”
“i am! you would’ve never done something that shitty.”
the nagging feeling that you’ve let him down once again is eating you alive.
he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "what do you call showing up here, in your apartment, in the middle of the afternoon and calling you shitty, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing yet affectionate.
you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, “t’s not the same.”
rafe reaches out, gently cupping your face in his palm as he brushes his thumb gently across your cheek. “yeah, it is.”
without even questioning it, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes as your allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. for the first time in months.
“i miss you,” you confess, “whenever something happens, i just want to tell you about it.”
“so, tell me.” the tender smile softens the lines on his face, "’m right here.”
you feel a rush of relief, a weight lifting off your chest as if he's just granted you permission to exhale. and yet, tears still well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and spilling over onto your cheeks in hot.
“i have a date.”
a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening with each syllable. your voice quivers with uncertainty, the words tumbling out like stones from a crumbling cliff. you don’t have to look to know your hands are shaking like leaves in a storm. you’re pretty sure if you held them up, they'd look like one of those ridiculous earthquake simulations.
rafe nods, doing his best to stop the cheeky grin growing on his face, as he shakes his head understandingly, “looking forward to it, are ya?”
but you only sob harder.
"hey, hey- sweetheart. it's alright.” he says gently, his voice soothing you better than any depressing song on your playlist, “just jokin’ around.”
but you can't shake off the feeling of shame, the burning embarrassment of admitting to something you wish you hadn't. of letting someone take you out, someone who isn’t rafe, your rafe.
"i just... i thought it would help me move on, y’know?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.
"i get it.” he tries to smile at you again, but it looks sad, and it makes your heart hurt. his hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, “i’m not mad.”
but you are. at you. at him.
the words linger in the back of your mind, gnawing at your insides. you want to scream, to lash out at him for being so understanding, for not fighting for you the way you wish he would.
you push his hands away from your face, your voice cracking. that’s all it seems to do since he walked back into your life ten minutes ago.
"that's it?" you exclaim, "you're just okay with it? with me going on a stupid date with someone else?"
it was like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him, and he didn't know how to stand back up.
rafe’s jaw is set in a firm clench, "i just want you to be happy.”
“but i'm not happy!" you retort, your voice rising in volume as tears continue to stream down your face. "i'm miserable, rafe! and you're just standing there, doing nothing!”
his chest is rising and falling heavily, as if he’s trying to contain himself.
"i'm doing nothing?” he asks so quietly; you take a double take to make sure it’s still him. his eyes flicker with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. it feels like staring into a wildfire, all fierce and untamed.
you swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of your words crashing down on you. the way rafe looks at you, it’s like he sees right through you.
"i’m here, aren't i? i’m listening, okay? i'm trying to understand."
but his words only fuel the fire of your frustration.
"i need you to tell me that you still care. that you don't want me to go on that date because you want me for yourself."
you could see the anger draining out of him, leaving behind this raw, broken man. he slumps forward, shoulders drooping. his eyes go from blazing with intensity to just... empty. like he just flicked off a light switch behind them.
it’s heartbreaking, honestly, to see him just fizzle out into nothing.
“’course i want you for myself," he whispers, "but i can't force you to choose me. you left me.”
it’s a devastating sight, really. to see someone you love so deeply, someone who’s always been so strong, just fall apart like that. it’s like watching a building crumble to the ground.
and the worst part is, you know you’re the one who caused it. you’re the reason he’s standing there looking so broken, so lost. and you hate yourself for it, hate that you couldn’t be what he needed, hate that you had to go and ruin everything.
“i left because i didn’t feel good enough,” your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, “not because i stopped loving you.”
for a moment, the silence between you is deafening, stretching on through time. it’s like neither of you knows what to say.
and then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifts in his expression, he looks as if you have hit him.
“i never wanted you to feel that way,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. “i never wanted you to doubt how much you mean to me.”
his words hang in the air, like they’re carrying the weight of all the things you two never said, all the things you wished you could take back. as if he’s putting it all out there, laying his soul bare for you to see, finally showing you everything he’s been keeping bottled up inside.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words a solemn oath sworn in the quiet of the night. “’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”
“i’m sorry too,” you choke out. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”
and then, without another word, without another moment wasted on regrets and what-ifs, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. it’s like coming home after a long time.
and yeah, you might have a shit ton of things and problems to sort through, but rafe cameron is worth that and more.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron fluff#rafe angst#rafe cameron angst#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x kook!reader#obx rafe cameron
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Just Looking At You Got Me Thinking Nonsense
A/N: happy Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek! Sometimes, to really be a lover, you have to risk it all in a bidding war, ya know? This was a fun little fic to write, and I want to give a big ole shout-out to the Anon who sent me this prompt! I hope everyone enjoys :)
Read on AO3
Cassian digs his phone out of his back pocket, opening back up the group chat and the most recent messages still waiting there. With a nod, he pockets the phone again, rolling out his shoulders. There’s a glass case full of pictures and some sort of awards on the wall opposite him, and Cassian uses it as a makeshift mirror. He’s always had a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous, and now his curls are a tangled mess as a result.
A door opening down the hall has Cassian almost jumping out of his skin. He turns just in time to see the exact woman he’s here for walking down the hall, her arm looped with a red head that Cassian is pretty sure was in his trig class last year.
“Trust me, it will be over before you know it,” the red head says as they walk.
“Until I have to sit through some stupid dinner after… You’re lucky that I love you.”
“I know, and I am lucky you’re doing this with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go up there alone.”
“Hey, Nes,” Cassian calls in greeting when they’re close enough, raising his hand in a wave.
Whether she doesn’t hear him or is just ignoring him, Cassian isn’t sure. But both women don’t acknowledge him, walking through another door further down the hall. One that, he presumes, leads into the large hall.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cassian mumbles to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Idiot.”
“Idiot is certainly one word I’d use to describe you.”
Azriel’s low chuckle echoes Rhys’s remark, and Cassian turns to glare at both his brothers. He knocks his shoulders against both of them, leading the way back toward the front of the building and the main doors into the hall. There’s more laughter, but at least his brothers fall into step behind him. He doesn’t have time for their teasing. Not tonight at least. This is his one chance, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up, if he loses it. He needs to focus.
Cassian knew that Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the first time he saw her walk into his gen-ed English lecture earlier this semester. Her blue gray eyes had been piercing beneath the lights of the lecture hall, and Cassian wanted to dive into them and drown in them right in that moment. Even more so when he watched her roll those eyes at something said at the front of the lecture hall.
Gods, he wanted to make those eyes roll.
He was sure that the Mother must be smiling down on him when Nesta had ended up in his seminar after the lecture too. It was clear that she was smart. That she had a passion for books. That she didn’t take any bullshit. He could sit and watch and listen to her in that seminar for the rest of his life and be happy. And when she absolutely eviscerated Tamlin for his “analysis” of Lolita, Cassian had been ready to drop to his knees right then and there.
It made him try harder. He made sure he actually paid attention in the lecture, made sure he did the readings, made sure he came to each and every seminar with his analysis prepared in hopes of impressing her. He wasn't sure it was working or not, but sometimes, he swore he saw her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, of a smirk, when he spoke. He swore that sometimes he could feel her gaze on him when he wasn't looking.
And then, one day, he’d walked into the seminar room to find the seat next to Nesta open. He’d practically stumbled over his own feet in his rush to slide into that open seat, earning an amused head shake from Kallias. Using the few minutes before the seminar started, Cassian had called her Nes and gotten a withering glare in response. He was sure the look was meant to cut him down where he sat, but it only stoked the embers in his chest into a full wildfire, only made him grin wider.
It became a game after that. Every seminar, he’d take the seat beside Nesta, and every seminar, he’d spark a back and forth between them. He cataloged every look, every response he was able to draw out of Nesta. Every eye roll. Every derisive snort. Every sarcastic quip. He got drunk off it all and kept coming back for more and more. And when he made Nesta blush, the pretty pink spreading across her cheeks, he knew that was it for him.
He spent the whole rest of the week after that trying to figure out the best way to ask Nesta out, sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being asked in front of their whole seminar group. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her to speak to him after the seminar, prayed to the Mother to take pity on him, and blessedly, take pity on him she did. It’s what led Cassian to finding out that Nesta was pledged to Mor’s sorority.
How he found out that she would be here tonight.
One of the sorority members greets Cassian and his brothers when they step through the doors to the hall, her name tag reading Deidre. She holds out three paddles, but Rhys and Azriel both wave her off, only Cassian taking one. Lucky number nineteen, just like his jersey. They settle into seats at an empty table, and then it’s just a waiting game.
It doesn’t take long before Mor is stepping out onto the stage, giving her welcoming speech as president, but any words she says fade away as soon as the women participating tonight walk onto the stage. As soon as Cassian catches sight of Nesta. Her dress is a silky, silvery blue that, along with the stage lights, brings out the blue of her eyes, and the hem is short enough to show off the stretch of her legs. She has that look on her face that’s Cassian’s favorite, and just the sight of her has his mouth going dry. She’s gorgeous.
“And next up we have Nesta Archeron.” Cassian’s attention snaps back to Mor. “She’s pre-law and minoring in English. She loves romance novels, so you better be ready to bring out all the stops if you’re the lucky one who gets to take her on a date. Now, we’ll start the bidding at–”
“One hundred dollars,” Cassian calls out before Mor can finish, jumping up to his feet and holding up his paddle.
“Mother save us,” Rhys mutters under his breath.
“Wow. That’s…” Mor clears her throat. “That’s quite generous. I guess we’ll be starting the bidding at one hundred.”
“One fifty.”
Anger flares low in Cassian’s gut at the second bid, and it burns even brighter when he turns his head and finds the owner of the voice. Eris Vanserra. Cassian has hated the man ever since he had the misfortune of sharing a class with him freshman year. Ever since he watched him stroll into a college class wearing designer clothes and look down on everyone. He’s pompous, pretentious, and has a face practically asking for Cassian to punch.
And punching Eris’s snooty face is definitely something Cassian’s fist itches to do right now.
“Two hundred,” Cassian declares, turning back toward the stage.
“Two fifty,” Eris echoes.
“Two seventy five.”
“Three hundred.”
“Holy shit,” Mor mutters before seemingly remembering that she has a microphone in her hands. “I mean wow. That’s officially our highest bid. Ever. Do we have a response?”
“Five. Hundred.”
Gasps and murmurs of surprise sweep through the room at Cassian’s announcement. He glances toward where Nesta still stands on stage, her eyes wide and pink settled high on her cheeks. But those wide eyes are pinned on him, not Eris, not Mor, and her attention has his heart stuttering between his ribs, has it tugging toward the stage as though she holds the thread so firmly wrapped around it.
He dares to toss Nesta a wink before turning to smirk at Eris, but Vanserra is still lounging casually in his seat with a sort of cool arrogance that ice starts to prickle beneath Cassian’s skin.
“Five fifty,” Eris declares, eyes cutting toward Cassian with a smirk of his own.
“Fucking prick,” Cassian mutters under his breath before he leans down to speak to Rhys. “Okay, I’m going to need to borrow more than what we originally agreed to.”
Rhys sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Cass? This is getting a little absurd for a single date.”
“She’s worth it.”
“Is she? You know, I’ve heard stories, and–”
“Fuck you,” Cassian growls, turning back toward the stage before he runs out of time. “Five seventy five!”
“He’s clearly dedicated. You’ve got to give him that,” Azriel mutters with a low chuckle.
“You know Vanserra’s not going to stop, right?” Rhys adds, his tone almost bored.
As if in answer, Eris’s voice rings out again. “Six hundred.”
“Seven hundred,” Cassian calls out quickly before dropping his voice again. “If you’re so worried about your rich boy checkbook, then do something about it.”
“What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Seven fifty,” Eris’s voice drowns out Rhys’s question.
“Alright,” Azriel sighs, pushing up to his feet. “This is just sad to watch now.”
Cassian sighs as his brother walks away, knocking his fist against the table in frustration. “Eight fifty!”
He waits for Eris’s answering bid, but there’s only silence ringing out in the hall. Cassian’s brow pinches in confusion, and he snaps his attention back toward Eris’s table. The man in question is on his feet, standing toe to toe with Azriel. There’s a suspicious looking stain across Eris’s shirt, and his lips are pulled back in a sneer.
Whatever lashing Eris is giving for his now ruined designer shirt, Azriel takes it unfazed. He merely reaches for a napkin, the movement nothing short of sensual as he wipes it against Eris’s shirt, against his chest and down his stomach. Even from across the room Cassian can see the way Eris’s face has turned a color to match his face.
With Eris thoroughly distracted, Cassian looks back toward the stage, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Mor.
“Oh! Right,” Mor speaks into the microphone. “We have eight fifty. Do we have higher than eight fifty?” Cassian motions with his hand to hurry up. “Eight fifty going once. Going twice. Sold for eight fifty.”
Cassian falls back into his seat with a relieved sigh, unable to bite back the wide grin that pulls across his face. He did it, he was the highest bid. He gets to see Nesta outside of their lecture, outside of their seminar. He gets to spend time with her one on one and to find out what really makes her tick.
He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.
He’s practically bouncing on his feet waiting for the rest of the women to have their bidding, for the evening to come to a close. He all but jumps back up to his feet, plucking the check from between Rhys’s fingers. The look on Mor’s face is all too knowing when he hands over the money, but even that doesn’t deter him.
He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.
“Eight hundred fifty dollars, huh?”
Cassian spins around to come face to face with the exact woman in question, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. But Cassian has learned a lot sitting next to Nesta this semester, and he recognizes the light sparking in her blue eyes, the slight pinch at the corner of her lips. Try as she might, she can’t hide her amusement from him.
“What can I say, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, grin still wide. “I’m quite dedicated to getting what I want.”
“Oh? Is that why you pulled that stunt with Eris?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was merely Azriel flirting.”
Nesta laughs, and it’s already Cassian’s favorite sound, a sound he wants to draw out of her again and again. “He flirts by spilling drinks on people?”
“Everyone has their own version of flirting. Look at us, with our back and forth.”
That comment does earn him an eye roll, Cassian’s blood singing and his heart soaring at the reaction. He dares to step even closer to Nesta, until he has to tip his chin down to keep smirking at her. Dares to reach up between them for a stray strand of Nesta’s hair and tug on it teasingly. Dares to tease the backs of his fingers along her now pinkening cheeks.
“You might actually be crazy, you know.”
“Only because you make me that way, Nes.”
—
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
#nestaweek2024#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acosf#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian#my fic
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Thirsty Thursday - Family Video
steddie, omegaverse, mdni 🔞
Eddie’s putzing around in the horror section at Family Video when the bell over the door jingles. He glances without thinking, shocked to see Robin Buckley lead Steve Harrington inside.
He’s nosy, wants to know what the hell is up with that. But he also doesn’t want to attract Keith’s attention. Eddie’s taking his time to hang in the A/C as long as possible, nearly an hour already.
Not that Buckley is capable of being quiet, so he hears plenty.
How they’re job hunting and how Robin probably knows more about film than Keith does. How Steve Fuckin’ Harrington likes Return of the Jedi! Even if he can’t remember the title and calls ewoks teddy bears.
Color Eddie surprised.
Add in Steve’s bright, colorblocked outfit and his swoopy hair, the way he absolutely takes out the Fast Times promotional standee and hurries to fix it, resume in his mouth like an enthusiastic labrador retriever.
Embarrassingly, Eddie realizes he’s been pumping out his campfire and marshmallow scent, too charmed to lock down his sudden interest, subconsciously trying to draw in the stupidly endearing omega.
He figures he should go before he actually catches any attention, dipping around the counter and out the door, but not before he hears Buckley and Harrington get hired on the spot.
It’s easy enough for Eddie to memorize Steve’s schedule, only going to rent movies while he’s working. Sometimes he drags the guys with him, or maybe just Jeff, giving more cover to surreptitiously stare at the moles on Steve’s neck.
“You aren’t being nearly as sneaky as you think,” Jeff mutters on more than one occasion . “Just go talk to him.”
“Can’t.” Eddie keeps Jeff between himself and the counter, eyes on the slasher movies like he’s agonizing over his decision.
“Why not?”
“Cuz I’ll say something stupid like, ‘Please, sit on my face, I wanna drown in your pussy.’ That’s why,” Eddie whispers, risking a glance towards Steve.
“What? Seriously!”
“Have you seen what a mess he is now? And add in that apple pie scent—my mouth is watering and my dick is—”
“Christ! I’m sorry I asked. But I still think you should talk to him.” Jeff turns his attention to the shelf in front of them. “Nightmare on Elm Street?” he asks, reaching for the case.
“Yeah…” Then Eddie stares as Jeff brings the tape up to the counter, his best friend effortlessly making small talk and laughing as he rents the movie. Like a coward, Eddie hurries out of the video store, waiting for Jeff in his van.
When Eddie goes to return the tape the next day, he’s surprised when Steve looks at Robin and says, “I’m going on my break,” even as he accepts the tape from Eddie, their fingers brushing.
“Yeah, whatever,” Robin answers, flipping through a magazine.
Broad fingers wrap around Eddie’s wrist and drag him back to the Family Video break room past the “Employees Only” sign.
Steve smiles at him as he closes the door behind them. “Sorry. Just got tired of waiting for you to make a move.”
“What?” Eddie has never known Steve Harrington to be the kind of omega who waits for an alpha.
“You aren’t doing a very good job of controlling your scent.”
Eddie gulps, cheeks heating.
“And your friend said you were super into me, which… Yeah, definitely picked up on that.”
Nodding, Eddie waits for his tongue to untie, pretty sure he’s gonna die first when Steve steps closer, presses his hand to Eddie’s chest. “You surprised me,” he manages to say.
“Sorry about that.” Steve doesn’t look sorry at all as he leans in, sniffs at Eddie’s neck. “I’m too used to Robin, bad at personal space with pack.”
“Not what I meant—the ewoks—I mean. Shit. Wait.” Eddie closes his eyes, Steve’s scent filling his nose and making him warm. He smells safe. Familiar.
“Yes?” Steve murmurs, hand moving up to touch the skin above the collar of Eddie’s shirt.
“Not pack, what do you mean bad at personal space with pack?”
“Can tell you should be pack.” He nuzzles at Eddie’s cheek and whispers, “Want to be your pack.”
Eddie gives into his instincts then, whining and holding Steve’s face still, bringing their mouths together. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Steve clearly does as he gentles the kiss, grinning as he pulls away.
“My shift ends at seven. Meet me at my place at seven-thirty.”
Eddie nods. “Uh-huh, yep, whatever you say.”
Steve glances up at the clock. “But we’ve still got six minutes before my break ends, and you need to practice,” he teases, pulling Eddie back in for another kiss.
#steddie#omegaverse#ficlet#alpha eddie munson#omega steve harrington#thirsty thursday#stranger things fic
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what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?
Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)
warnings: mental breakdown
word count: 1.9k
a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine
description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)
his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.
eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.
like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.
he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’
why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.
he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.
his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.
his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.
his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.
this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.
the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”
the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.
the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.
“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.
“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.
“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”
fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.
“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.
“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.
Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.
he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.
the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.
when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.
like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.
“sleep well?”
he nods.
“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.
“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.
“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”
Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.
slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”
beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.
Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”
with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.
“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.
#honkai star rail#dr ratio#hsr#dr ratio angst#analysis#dr ratio fluff#aventurine#aventurine x dr ratio#veritas ratio#aventio#raturine#ratiorine#comfort#veritas ratio angst
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warnings ! — SMUT partly, fem!reader, ANGST, ghosting, compliments
summary ? — you always come back.
!! ♫ NOW PLAYING “chamber of reflection”
by mac demarco
౿ . . ` ౨ৎ ENJOY 🩵
he didn't know who woke him up with the doorbell at three in the morning; he didn't know why he got up to open the door in the first place, and of course he didn't know that you were standing outside his door.
dick opens the door, wants to start cursing and cursing whoever woke him up at this hour, but god, he sees you in front of him.
sees you after several long months and can't control the softening look in your eyes as you look up at him. you look with that gentle but lost look; your eyes don't linger on his face for too long, as if you're ashamed.
of course you should be ashamed; you come, spend the night with him, and leave again. grayson doesn't have your phone number, your address, your place of work; he has nothing but your visits to his apartment every few months and that boundless happiness every time you come back.
your name comes off his lips almost in a whisper as he looks into your face.
you're so damn beautiful even though you're soaked to the skin; your awkward smile makes all his worries and fears melt away, but in his mind he thinks of closing the door in your face; of course, just for one second because he knows he can't. even if dick wanted to, he never could, especially when you look at him like that.
you're back again and he hates the realization of how happy he is to see you on his doorstep.
“hey,” grayson began softly, stepping away from the door and letting you into his apartment.
“hi,” you mumble back, taking a step forward toward him and closing the door behind you, “long time no see?” you smile softly and dick loses himself in that smile again.
he wants to hate you more than he loves you; he really does, but you are so beautiful now. with wet hair and wet clothes, you were the most beautiful woman in the world.
it was like a game that grayson could never win; he would forever lose, and you would forever run away after one night together and come back after two months of silence.
and he promised himself that this time would be the last time, the next time he'd kick you off his doorstep.
“and why did you come back?” dick sounds too harsh for his own good; he crosses his arms over his chest and tries to keep his distance, taking a step back as you approach.
“i just…” you pause, shifting from foot to foot and averting your gaze, “just checking on you. thought i might see you…”
it hurts too much.
of course grayson knows it's not a concern; of course he knows that you're just here to leave in the morning and break his heart again; of course he knows you're not worth it; of course he…
but still, he finds himself beside you now, showering your neck with short kisses and whispering something about how much he's missed you, and it's so damn flattering that you moan and cling to him harder and harder.
the smell of your perfume feels like a punch in the chest as dick pulls you against him harder and harder, like it's been two years instead of two months.
and you don't blame him, of course.
you don't know why you do that to someone like grayson. someone so wonderful and reverent and loving so sweetly that everything turns upside down inside at the sight of his tender gaze. you want to say it's an almost inexplicable need to leave again for a long time, but you realize you never had a real reason.
you just didn't want to hurt him so badly.
it’s almost embarrassing; you come back when it's unbearable, hoping it will get easier, but it never does in the morning. even if you have a dick on the bed next to you, sleeping peacefully and having his hundredth dream of the night.
it's almost comparable to the moment when you are drowning and asking for help; desperately continuing to flail your arms and legs, bouncing in the water and trying to scream, realizing that you can't swim.
as your lungs fill with water and you prepare to die, you vaguely see dick grayson, who can't swim either, but is trying to swim up to you and save you. he is also flailing his legs and arms, trying not only to stay afloat, but also to swim up to you, hoping that he can save you too.
his palms touch yours, intertwined as grayson looks into your eyes and you think salvation is near when your head submerges again.
the truth is, you can't swim, and you'll drown in this together.
but right now, dick is kissing you as if it's your last hours before the end of the world, and nothing else matters: just his palms on your waist, his dry lips on your lips, and the sweet-bitter kisses you share.
“it’s been two months,” he murmurs, pulling you even closer, “and yet you're back,” grayson leans closer and nuzzles his nose into your neck, leaving a few weightless kisses and gentle bites, “missed you so much.”
“dick,” his name sounds so bitter on your lips, “i missed you so much,” you repeat after him, letting out another muffled moan.
and you don't know when you ended up in bed; when he started pushing into you slowly, running his fingers through your hair and stroking your cheek with a calloused palm; when you started moaning his name, grabbing his neck.
“you're so beautiful,” dick continues to whisper, “too beautiful for me to understand,” he makes another thrust hitting exactly the most sensitive spot inside of you and you try not to moan too loudly.
grayson is so incredibly gentle with you that you seem ready to cum the second he kisses every inch of your body; he compliments you again, and my god, you always feel so beautiful every time you have sex.
dick lifts your hips and bumps his nose against your collarbone as his thrusts become more jerky and faster; his fingers grip your waist tighter, and he continues to murmur.
“it feels so good inside you,” grayson bites into your skin gently, as if he's afraid of hurting you, “my god…”
he feels like he's almost melting from how warm and supple you are inside. his rough fingertips gently rub your clit, sometimes pushing and speeding up, but his movements remain so reverent.
one of his thrusts brings you to orgasm at the same time, as grayson presses against you with extra force; he continues to enter you, showering your breasts with kisses and helping you through this orgasm.
and dick realizes that in the morning he'll wake up alone in his bed again. your scent will be on the empty, cold sheets, and your soft voice will be a symphony in his ears, but right now he's thanking all the gods he knows that you came again.
i was inspired by a bot from character.ai by BUNNY_JUNI !!
comment, reblog & like? ;)
🩵 abt me | m.list
#dc#dc comics#dc universe#writing#dc smut#dc x reader#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc imagine#dc angst#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x fem!reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson angst#dick grayson smut#dick grayson headcanon#dick grayson#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x fem!reader#nightwing x you#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader#nightwing headcanon#nightwing smut#nightwing angst#nightwing#dayasu’s collection !! ✩#song !! ✩
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when i was drowning - [p.jackson]
wordcount: 0.7K
warnings: almost drowning
requested: yes!! @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch6190
I should have known going swimming on my own would become a disaster. But technically, it was also the best day of my life.
Being a daughter of Hades is hard. Being the sister of Nico di Angelo is hard. Being a demigod is hard. But being in love with Perseus Jackson? That is the opposite of hard.
His sea green eyes that sparkle when he laughs. How he runs his hands through his scruffy black hair, making it even messier. How he fights with his shiny sword like nobody's watching. How he cares for the new campers, jokes with his friends, and always eats blue food if he can manage it.
I think it’s impossible not to fall for Percy Jackson. It’s the easiest? most natural feeling in the world.
Anyways, I’m a bit of a loner. Most campers don’t tend to want to hang out with the creepy death twins, so both Nico and I decide to be alone most of the time. Over the years here at camp, Nico has been in and out a lot, shadow travelling all over the world and even into hell once.
I’ve stayed here at camp all this time. I spend my time alone. I’ve tried to redecorate the Hades cabin (Nico made some terrible decisions as a young child and I am desperate to fix it). I do classes alone or sometimes with the Apollo kids (Will Solace is dating my brother, and he is like a brother to me).
Sorry, I’m getting off topic. Solangelo does that to people.
So on that shiny summer morning, Im walking down the dirt path to the lake. I’m glad I’m alone. I’d never dare to swim with someone else. No that anyone would want to do that with a Hades kid. We’re “creepy and dark and mysterious” or whatever. Which isn’t true. Yeah, I’m a introvert, but so are a lot of other people.
I have the weirdest feeling someone is watching me. I whirl around, but see nothing. Huh. I decide to ignore the strange feeling and just relax a little.
I wander down to the canoe lake, strip down to my sports bra and bike shorts, and dive off the end of the pier.
Unfortunately, I misjudged my dive. I landed wrong, felt my leg bend weirdly, and plummeted into the water. My head hits something hard, and everything goes black.
The next time I open my eyes, they see the somewhat blurry ceiling of the infirmary. Yellow light fills the room, warm and sunshiny and very Apollo cabin themed. I’m not sure I like this aesthetic so much.
“Y/n!”
It’s Nico. He rushes over and sits down on a stool beside me. “Damn, are you okay?”
I groan, my head suddenly spiked with pain. “Um. I think so? What the hell happened?”
Nico raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, you almost freakin drowned. What were you thinking? Going to swim alone?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, wincing. “So… what happened?”
Nico gives me a look. “You hit your head, we think. You would’ve drowned, you know. Except for Percy…”
I’m immediately paying attention. “Percy?” I ask curiously.
Nico looks slightly amused, and also annoyed. “Yeah, Percy Jackson. You were gonna drown, but he saved you. Lucky he happened to be walking past, which is weird, cause he was supposed to be at archery practice then.”
I flush slightly. “He… he saved me?”
Nico nods. “Gods, you’re hopeless. Stop getting all flustered over him.”
“Hey!” I complain. “Says you, whenever Will walks in the door.”
“Shut up.”
I smirk, and even though my head hurts something awful, Percy Freaking Jackson saved me in a canoe lake today. And that’s enough to make this my best day ever.
#percy jackson#pjo#fanfiction#to read#fanfic#walker scobell#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fanfic#daughter of hades#nico di angelo
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coda
‘In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever left your side?’
She gives a half-hearted scoff, cracks an eyelid, ‘you mean, aside from all the times you ditched me to jump on trains or investigate your own personal theories?’
‘Yeah, aside from all those times.’
944 words, read here on AO3
He gets the call at 3:24 in the morning, a blocked number that he would ignore if it were daylight hours, but despite being out of the FBI for over a decade, it’s still ingrained within him to pick up the phone on the second ring. He’d not really been sleeping anyway, merely dozing with the TV on in the background. As soon as he hears her name and the hospital she’s been taken to, he’s out the door, feet stuffed into the sneakers that have worn bare.
She’s sleeping when he arrives, and besides the bandage on her forehead she looks fine, but the sight of her in a hospital bed will always hit him like a blow to the chest. Her doctor gives him a sceptical glance out the corner of his eye as he lists her injuries, the fractured tibia and the cracked rib, and he can’t help but wonder how pathetic he must seem; unkempt hair and two months of beard growth, the ratty sweats he’d been wearing for three days.
The seat by her bed is uncomfortable, tacky vinyl that creaks when he slumps down into it, and he settles in for a vigil that’s become so routine to him over the decades. Her hair’s longer than when she left, and her cheeks look slightly hollower, but overall she looks healthy; a far cry from many of the times he’s sat by her bedside.
It’s an hour before she stirs, and at her first groan, he’s up and scanning her face for the first flicker of recognition, the smile that always brightens her eyes when she wakes to him by her side. She grunts, her eyes peeling open, and as soon as they catch on him she huffs a sigh and shakes her head, slipping her eyes shut again. ‘Scully?’
‘You look like shit, Mulder,’ she mutters, her voice gravelly and raw. It’s not what he’d expected, and he realises he’d hoped she’d take one look at him and declare just how much she’s missed him, just how much she regrets leaving. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘The hospital called. You hit a patch of ice; totalled your car. Apparently, you were very lucky - it could have been much worse. I’m still down as your emergency contact.’ His energy has been sapped suddenly, the disgruntled look she’s giving him weighing heavy on his chest.
‘I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet. I was gonna put Mom down, but she was moving and I wanted to wait until she had her new address, and then I must have forgotten.’ He gives a curt nod, drops back down into his chair. ‘You don’t have to stay. I’m fine.’
‘In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever left your side?’
She gives a half-hearted scoff, cracks an eyelid, ‘you mean, aside from all the times you ditched me to jump on trains or investigate your own personal theories?’
‘Yeah, aside from all those times.’
Her eyes close again, and she twists her head to face away from him. ‘Last year. You left me last year.’
‘What? Scully, you left me. You ran away, you gave up. I never went anywhere.’
‘Not physically,’ she sighs, ‘but you left first. I was drowning, and you didn’t even notice. Something you never learned, Mulder, was that sometimes the only person you can save is yourself.’
‘I didn’t… you didn’t say anything.’
She clears her throat, trying to keep the tremor from her voice, ‘I shouldn’t have had to.’
They lapse into silence, the ambient beeps of the hospital filling the space between them, and he thinks perhaps that she’s fallen back to sleep, readying himself to settle in for the night, when she turns back to look at him, ‘you really do look terrible. When was the last time you slept properly?’
He could tell the truth, tell her he hasn’t slept properly since before she left, but he can hear the guilt in her voice, and as much as he thinks she possibly deserves it, he loves her too much to not absolve her of it, ‘couple of days. S’okay, really. I’m used to it.’
‘I thought it got better for a time.’
‘It did, for a time,’ when she was by his side, at least. But he couldn’t put that on her, couldn’t make her regret saving herself.
He’d once said they had communication, unspoken, and maybe that had lapsed, maybe they had never been all that good at it in the first place, but she seemed to hear him now. ‘You know, there’s room up here for two, if you’re careful.’
‘Scu-’
‘One-time offer, and it’s only on the table for the next thirty seconds,’ she grunts as she shuffles to give him room, quirking an eyebrow when he hesitates with one shoe off. He climbs up next to her, settling himself next to her, not quite touching, until she sighs into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘I am trying to get better,’ he whispers, his voice choked with emotion, ‘I just don’t know how.’
‘I know. And I’ll always be proud of whatever progress you make.’
‘I may have been a shitty husband, but I never stopped loving you.’
‘I know,’ she murmurs into the darkness, ‘I never stopped loving you either. But we’re not good for each other.’ He wants to argue, wants to fight her tooth and nail on that point, but her head is getting heavier on his shoulder, her breathing getting deeper, and he doesn’t want to upset her. ‘Mulder?’
‘Hmm?’
‘You’re not the only one who sleeps better with company.’
Tagging @today-in-fic
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Fools in the Rain
Ghost is spending the fourth night of his leave alone in his apartment, whittling mindlessly while an old sitcom plays in the background. A storm rages outside, so loud that when Ghost hears the knock at his door, he almost mistakes it for thunder. His head raises slowly as the realization dawns upon him that the sound was in fact a knock….and that he wasn’t expecting company. He’s never expecting company. He’s never even had company. Wouldn’t know what to do with company. Doesn’t enjoy company.
So something must be wrong.
He rises slowly…silently….his hand reaching for one of the many guns he keeps tucked around his apartment. Another knock, louder than the first, confirms his suspicions and spurs him to quicker movements. He dashes to the door, taking a breath before peering through the peephole.
Soap is standing on the other side, shifting his weight back and forth under the small awning as his heart races. Despite his body being drenched by the rain, he can still feel sweat creeping down his back and pooling in his palms. Sweat just has that distinctive feel.
Ghost unlocks the deadbolt and opens the door as far as the chain lock will allow. He eyes Soap as he demands over the cacophonous rain, “What’re you doing here, Soap?”
Soap’s eyes shoot up as Ghost cracks open the door. The rain, unfortunately, had not reached the confines of Soap’s mouth, leaving his tongue dry and his voice cracked. He swallows nothing and admits, “….I haven’t been able to sleep in days. Ever since we started leave…I’ve been….plagued….haunted with thoughts….they’re there when I’m awake, there when I try to sleep….”
A stone settles in the depths of Ghost’s stomach. He stares at the soaked man for what feels like an eternity, swimming in Soap’s bloodshot eyes as he searches for answers he has no idea how to find. Thankfully, Soap continues:
“I consider myself a strong man, Ghost. I’ve suffered things no person should experience. I’ve been beaten and shot, held hostage and interrogated and tortured. But this….this is a torture I cannot endure…..”
The desperation in Soap’s voice, the utter weakness in his shaking frame…it chills Ghost to his core.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. What you’re doing. Where you are. How you’re feeling. I-I keep worrying. I feel like every nerve is on fire when I’m not near you, I—”
His words die in his mouth as Ghost abruptly closes the door. Soap can’t help the tears that instantly well in his eyes. Tears that proceed to fall upon his rain-soaked cheeks as the door remains closed. In his stunned state, Soap can’t even raise a hand to wipe them away as they tickle his face, mocking him for thinking that this was ever a good idea.
Meanwhile, Ghost is on the other side of the door, his mind even more tumultuous than the storm outside. He places his gun down on whatever surface is closest. He paces as hopeful thoughts bubble up to the surface of his consciousness; he shakes his head with the rise of each one, hoping to quell them.
It doesn’t work.
Soap is frozen, tears no longer trickling. No, now they’re a steady stream. His mouth opens and closes like a fish drowning in open air. He hopes maybe he’ll be rewarded for his foolishness with a strike of lightning—something to end the pain coursing through him, leaving him breathless and yearning for death.
Ghost tears off his balaclava and tosses it aside. As he paces, he runs his hands through his hair, feeling the tremble of his fingers against his scalp. And then, before he even realizes what he’s doing, he unlocks the chain lock and yanks open the door.
The sight of the state he’s left Soap in is worse than any bullet, Ghost thinks. The two men stare at each other, stunned by the sight of the other. Ghost knows he has to move, to speak, to do something. Soap has left himself bare, disemboweled himself and placed his guts at Ghost’s doorstep. So he has to do something.
Ghost takes a step forward through the doorway. Soap takes a step back, mistaking Ghost’s intense gaze and advancement as a sign of aggression. Ghost takes another step forward, and Soap responds with another step back, leaving the shelter of the awning and walking backwards into the rain. As Ghost takes yet another step forward, he reaches out and cups Soap’s face, freezing him in place once more.
Ghost draws into Soap, bringing his other hand up to mirror the first. He brushes his thumbs over Soap’s cheeks, determined to wipe away the tears before the rain does. To somehow fix what he’s done.
Words have always been special to Ghost. He doesn’t speak much not because he doesn’t like to, but because he wants what he says to convey exactly what he means. Ghost handles his speech like a knife, knowing that with his words he carves in ways that can either create or destroy. He plans what he says carefully, steeping his thoughts like tea before pouring them from his mouth:
“I am a fool…for ever letting you feel the way you feel now…forgive me, please…”
Soap blinks the concoction of rain and tears from his eyes. He slowly raises his hands and grasps Ghost’s wrists, holding them like they’re a buoy. But for once in his life, he stays silent, much to Ghost’s distress.
“Please, Johnny…please say something….”
The sound of Ghost’s voice, as warbled and watery as the puddle drenching their feet, stirs Johnny to speak. The corners of his teary eyes crinkle as he smiles through his words, “You are a fool…but you’re my fool…isn’t that right, Simon?”
Simon chokes back a sudden sob and nods, pulling a laugh of relief from Johnny. He leans his forehead against Simon’s, tightening his grip on the man’s wrists.
Simon wrangles together his nerves and forces himself to be brave. “Can this fool kiss you?” he asks, the surprising sweetness in his voice melting Johnny like candy floss in water. He nods and Simon softly presses his lips against Johnny’s, tasting tears and rain.
#cod#cod fanfic#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#ghost x soap#soap x ghost#ghoap#ghoap fanfic#i’ve never played cod#i know cod is military propaganda but goddamn i cant get these men out of my head
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No Nut November-!!
𝕃𝔼𝔸𝕊𝕋 𝕋𝕆 𝕄𝕆𝕊𝕋 𝕃𝕀𝕂𝔼𝕃𝕐 𝕋𝕆 𝕎𝕀ℕ-!!
𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢-- 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍.
🄲🄷🄰🅁🄰🄲🅃🄴🅁🅂: Ellis Twilight from IkeVil, this was supposed to be multi character but I got carried away.
🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: nsfw, content minors dni or bald Jude is coming for you, oversimtulation, slight non consent vibes, slight mention of overworking, squirting, semi public sex, possibly extremely ooc.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
🄻🄴🄰🅂🅃 🄻🄸🄺🄴🄻🅈 🅃🄾 🅆🄸🄽: 1-2 weeks.
◡̈🅴🅻🅻🅸🆂 🆃🆆🅸🅻🅸🅶🅷🆃:
The thing about him is... He's a person who who enjoys pleasing you and keeping you happy. Making you feel joy, satisfaction and serenity as much as possible is what he most aims for.
So... It wouldn't necessarily be difficult for him. It would be you who would make the challenge difficult. Because the moment you start showing signs of being needy is when his resolve starts to crumble and he gets hit with the desire to please you. To stop seeing you frown and press your thighs together, trying to desperately to get enough friction. To stop hearing your cries of disappointment and dissatisfaction from behind your door cause your fingers just aren't thick or long enough to reach those oh so sensitive spots deep within you, something only he can reach. He just wants to break down this door, hold you and glue himself in between your thighs.
In another scenario where he's thinking about just how happy you would be, just how bright you'd smile after a full month of being deprived of pleasure. Where he's considering the big reward on the long run, he'd still lose.
Because since you guys are all doing this challenge together, Jude would try to drown himself in work as a distraction to make himself stop thinking about his cute little lover. Which would lead to him taking a lot more of the load than normal, in turn lessening the load for Ellis. Allowing him more free time.
And what does this goofy little goober do with his free time? Well he spends it with you. And he's not that much of a patient fellow.
Which would eventually lead to you being propped up against the wall in your balcony, legs hung over his shoulders, his face smushed into your little pussy, his nose pressed up against your clit, creating stimulations that tether on the edge of pleasurable and painful, him creating scandalous wet sounds, slurping up all your joices like a starved man, sucking on your puffy folds, your toes curling, the coil in your lower stomach tightening impossibly, eyes rolling back, as you beg him to slow down and yet keep grinding your cunny against his drenched face.
All care for public decency has lapsed through him. As you whimper, mention that what if someone sees- He chuckles, causing vibrations across your little flower, sending chills that run up your spine and shoves you over the edge, a clear liquid spilling all over. Him pulling away to open his mouth and catch all of it, pulling apart your puffy lips and rubbing your little nub to draw out the high as long as possible. He looks so pleased. So happy to finally have relieved you of the pain he was foolish enough to put you through for one and a half weeks!
"One... " he brings his face closer to your cunny, licking up the access juices dripping from it, the stream now weaker than before. "One ... Muh-ore! " he gasps, his voice coming out muffled as he encloses his mouth around your nub and sucks it into his mouth. And you're too dumb right now to even respond, all that come out are incoherent words and high pitched noises.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍... 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜...
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞... :)
#ikevil#ikemen series#ikemen villains#ikemen#ikevil ellis#ikevil ellis x reader#ikevil x reader#ellis twilight#ellis x reader#ikevil smut#ikemen x reader#ikemen smut#ikevil ellis smut#ellis smut#ellis x reader smut
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Burnt matches
Whumpee stirred open in his sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times as he sat up and looked at the person across the room. It's not Whumper this time…it's…
Whumpee 2!
Chained up, wearing a white shirt with eyes staring into space. The guy looked more like a ghost than a person. His shirt even had a blood stain…much more worse than Whumpee. Whumpee frowned, confused at his friend's state. Whumper separated them for the past few weeks and he never expected that they would meet like this. It's like seeing a different person now.
"Um, hello…dude?"
Whumpee's voice echoing through the dark basement. Whumpee 2 just stayed silent, not even daring to move. What was he even scared about? It's not like Whumper is here. Whumpee moved the chain around his wrist, he tried to emit some sound to catch the guy's attention. But just like before, that creature just glued to the floor.
Whumpee gave up. He leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. After that he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened by Whumper. Whumpee opened his eyes and to his surprise, Whumpee 2 crawled up and hugged Whumper's leg. He frowned, immediately annoyed while Whumper just smirked down at the guy and ruffled his hair affectionately.
Just like how you treat an obedient dog.
Whumper chuckled upon seeing the frustrated look on Whumpee's face. "Aww, are you jealous that I'm being all loving with him rather than you? Maybe you should just submit to me…you will get all the attention too."
Whumper leaned down and stroked the guy's cheek gently. Whumpee looked at them in disgust as Whumper kissed the guy's forehead and squeezed his throat playfully.
So pathetic, letting someone treat you like that.
Whumpee swore to his life that he would never break because of someone like Whumper. He would stay strong until Caretaker came and saved him. That's his promise to her. But seeing Whumpee 2 like this broke his heart, what would Caretaker say if she saw him in that condition?
"What did you do to him? What did you do that made him change?" Whumpee asked, with a slight hint of anger in his voice.
Whumper hummed, "Oh, nothing much. Just touch him here and there…you know?"
Whumpee huffed out a sigh, "Touch him with what?"
Whumper squeezed Whumpee 2's cheeks, "With the whip, hammer, shock collar…oh, and a loving touch from me. He takes it like the good boy he is."
Whumpee swallowed hard, Whumper never hurt him using those things before. He only got a few cuts on his body, Whumper drowned him once, and a few kicks and punches every time he made a ruckus.
"Oh, don't be so surprised that I treated you much better than him. He's the one who offered to take your punishments for you." Whumper said, looking down at Whumpee 2 with a smirk.
"And now, look at him. He's just a broken doll now, only exists to please me. His dear master."
Whumpee too stunned to make any snarky remarks like always. His eyes glued to his friend. Whumper's right, he's nothing more than a lifeless body. He wanted to yell at Whumper for being the reason he lost his friend forever, but nothing came out of his mouth.
Whumper snickered as he walked out of the basement, locking the door before leaving the two alone. Whumpee looked at Whumpee 2 with his eyes full of…betrayal?
They locked eye contact with each other and Whumpee couldn't help but feel tears burning in his eyes. That's not Whumpee 2, he's a different person now. He used to be so annoying, so cheerful, always encouraging Whumpee to do stupid things. He's also the one who used to get mad at Whumpee when he nearly gave up until that asshole separated them two.
"Whumpee 2…" Whumpee started. "Why? Why did you took my punishments for me? Do you think I'm that weak?"
Whumpee 2 just stayed silent. He opened his mouth slightly before closing them again. His gaze fell to the ground, not having enough strength to look at Whumpee. But Whumpee ended up feeling more anger towards him. Tears streamed down his face.
"Answer me you idiot! Who asked you to do that for me?! Why are you always like this? Always think about other people rather than yourself! Do you think I would be happy seeing you like this, huh?!"
Whumpee 2 still didn't move nor say anything. Whumpee wanted to yell at him again when he saw a tear rolled down his face. Whumpee could feel his heart shattered at the sight. He pushed his knees to his chest and buried his face on it.
"Dummy…" Whumpee muttered with a broken voice.
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Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)
let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here
pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)
length: 1.4k
genre: fluff, kinda angsty
warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own
a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3
Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned.
He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered.
"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.
"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you.
"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.
"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.
Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.
Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.
"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin - something ruined touching something holy.
"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.
"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.
When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb.
It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.
"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.
"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."
"But you did steal it, didn't you?'
"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.
"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."
"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."
Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.
"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.
"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.
"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.
"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his.
There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.
#smsn.writes#marauders x reader#marauders x you#marauders x y/n#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#james potter x you#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#sirius black imagine#james potter imagine#remus lupin imagine#sirius black fluff#james potter fluff#remus lupin fluff#marauders imagine#marauders drabble#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly marauders x you
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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne
batfamily + oc insert
tw: anxiety attacks
wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!
want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!
yall this is the chapter i’ve been waiting for
part thirty-eight
❝ AIR AND FIRE AND WATER (OH MY) ❞
THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 1:00 PM
BENTLEY WAS SILENT ALL THE WAY HOME. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Other than the fact he was pretty much at a standstill regarding his father and the Secret Keeper and all that jazz, he was starting to feel strange. Like a part of him had been ripped out and thrown into the Gotham Harbor. Like one of his organs had been removed and replaced by one that didn’t fit quite right — like something wrong was inside of him now.
It was like he could feel his blood pumping in his veins. The entire car ride, he could hear it in his ears. He could hear the gasoline swishing in Jason’s gas tank. He could feel the windshield washing liquid like it was a part of him when Jason cleaned the bugs off the window. He could feel Jason’s blood pumping through Jason’s veins.
What the hell was wrong with him?
The wrongness just kept getting wronger when they pulled up at the Manor, because it went from Jason and Jason’s car to feeling the water moving through the whole house. Like he had an ear against every pipe in the Manor, listening to the liquid swish and move. He knew where it was. Where it was going. He knew where each and every toilet and sink and shower and fridge was from exactly where he was sitting in Jason’s car. Where every saline bag and liquid medicine and electrolyte drink was sitting in the cave. The drip Asten was on, how much was left in it, and every single time it dripped.
Why the hell did he know that?
Jason said something to him when he got out of the car, but he didn’t hear it. It sounded like there was a waterfall inside the Manor. When he went through the door, it just got worse — he could hear every bead, droplet, every liquid in the house screaming and sloshing and moving and churning and bubbling. He could feel it like it was all inside of him, like it was him, like he was made out of water. He could hear his blood moving. He could hear Jason’s blood. Asten’s blood. Nico’s blood. Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Damian and the animals and Duke and everything — could feel the blood, the water, everything. He could feel everything.
He walked up the stairs one step at a time, every rational thought — every thought at all — literally drowned out by the sound. The feelings. He felt like he was going to explode. Like he was going to die. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he was shaking, and breathing wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. Why did he feel so wrong? So wrong? So wrong?
His mind kinda-sorta came back to him when he ran face-first into someone in the hall. Someone with a purple hoodie and black sweatpants.
When Dick Grayson looked down at him, Bentley started crying.
“Whoa, hey there, kiddo, what’s wrong?” Dick questioned, kneeling down to the child’s height, his crystalline blue gaze bouncing around Bentley’s face. His hair was wet and floppy like he’d just showered, and it reminded him of the first night he ever met Dick Grayson in the pouring rain.
Bentley could hardly think enough to make a coherent sentence. Air wasn’t coming in or out right, and he was crying and sad and so overwhelmed, why could he hear everything? “I-I don’t fee-feel right.” Was what he ended up saying, wiping frantically at his eyes. (Stuttering, more like.)
Dick breathed in, a sad expression coming across his features. “I think you’re having a panic attack, buddy. Just breathe with-“
“No! Not that,” Bentley argued, batting away Dick’s hands that had been coming for his arms. “Something inside of me. I-I feel like I’m going to die. I think I… I- think I’m about to die.”
A few words were shared between Dick and someone else, and in one fluid movement, Bentley was picked up and deposited on a bed. But hadn’t they just been in the hallway? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. The only thing he did know was that everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe and it was so loud.
“Bentley, buddy, tell me what doesn’t feel right,” Dick ordered. Bentley was sitting on the edge of a bed (whose bed? No clue.), halfway in reality, half in his own world of blurry confusing pain. Dick was in front of him, his hands were searching Bentley’s frame for anything abnormal. Jason was near the closed door.
Between the crying and the panicking and the not working lungs, he couldn’t breathe. “Everything. Everything feels wrong.”
Jason said something about Bentley’s dad, but he didn’t really hear him. Dick was touching his shoulders.
“Bentley, keep talking to me,” He pleaded, rubbing Bentley’s arms lightly. He turned to Jason with a subtle: “Go get Bruce.”
Jason left the room.
Bentley couldn’t focus enough to do much of anything. With a groan of… desperation, maybe? He brought his hands up and covered his ears, trying to drown out all the noise. There was so much noise. Too much noise.
After an indecipherable amount of time passed, someone else was touching Bentley. Bigger hands, stronger grip. He peeled his eyes open just long enough to see Bruce’s face in front of him, icy blue eyes scanning him mechanically, robotically. His mouth moved but Bentley couldn’t hear him over the crashing waves in his own head.
Gently, his hands were removed from his ears. “Hey there, chum, it’s Bruce. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on?” He was doing a pretty good job masking the concern in his voice, but Bentley heard it anyways.
“I-I can… I…” Bentley choked on a few words and sobs at the same time, his hands shaking like leaves where they sat in Bruce’s grip. “I can… hear… I-I can feel… everything.”
Bentley thought he heard something in the room bang or pop, but he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t exactly hear very good. Bruce suddenly got a strange look on his face, and Jason and Dick, who were behind him, looked stunned.
“B, his eyes-”
“Shh,” Bruce ordered, one of his hands coming up to rest on the side of Bentley’s head. “It’s okay, chum. You’re going to be okay. Just look at me.”
Bentley looked at him as best he could through the tears and panic. He tried not to pay attention to Dick, who walked over to the bathroom door looking really, really confused.
“Breathe with me,” Bruce tried. He took a deep, calculated breath, and Bentley tried to follow suit. It only sort of worked. The roaring in his head wasn’t fading. If anything, it was starting to sound more… real?
“What the f-”
“Jason!”
Bentley’s attention broke away from Bruce just in time for him to glance at the closed bathroom door — was he in Dick’s room? — and see water. Water, just gushing out from under the door like the crack at the bottom was a pressure washer, straight into the bedroom and all over the floor.
“Bruce-“
“Bentley, just look at me,”
Bentley did. He just looked at Bruce, tracing the fractals of blue in his eyes, focusing on every hair in his eyebrows, every shade of his skin. Bentley just looked at Bruce as the water started to climb the legs of the bed like a slithering snake, curling and wrapping around until it made it onto the mattress. Dick and Jason were standing off to the side, stunned into silence. Bentley just looked at Bruce.
Bentley continued to just look at Bruce as the water started floating — yes, floating, actually suspended in the air — around the room. Some of it crawled up the walls like vines, some spun and danced in the middle of the air like trees in the breeze. It was getting easier to breathe. The roaring was getting quieter.
“That’s it, you’re okay,” Bruce uttered, his hand moving gently in Bentley’s hair. “You’re okay.”
Bentley finally broke his gaze to glance upward. There was water on the ceiling, spinning and churning in intricate swirls and designs there, and water floating through the air in strands like string. It was moving on the walls, the floor, the furniture like snakes.
Bruce rubbed a hand over his hair. “That’s it. There you go.”
Bentley breathed in deeply, hiccuping lightly, his brown eyes tracing the flying water. “Bruce…”
“It’s okay,”
He wasn’t… this wasn’t… he wasn’t doing that, was he? He couldn’t be. He wasn’t a metahuman. He hadn’t been in the machine long enough, Davis had said so. He was just Bentley. Just normal Bentley.
Normal Bentley focused on one specific snake of water on the ceiling. He imagined it moving left, and it went left. He imagined it moving right, and it went right. He imagined an intricate, beautiful chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, made entirely of water, and the liquid morphed and moved until it became that. Chains, dangling crystals, and metal galore, all shaped from crystal clear water.
“Oh my God,” Jason muttered. He and Dick were staring at the chandelier made of pure water, but Bruce wasn’t. Bruce was still looking at Bentley.
The water slowly moved from the chandelier back to its spot swirling on the ceiling.
There was absolutely no way Bentley was doing that. Right? There couldn’t be. He couldn’t be.
As a last ditch effort to prove that he wasn’t controlling the water, he imagined it going back where it came from.
And the water, ever-so-slowly, started to crawl off the bed, down from the ceiling and the walls, across the floor again at a glacial pace. Dick swung the bathroom door open. Bentley watched in a mixture of awe and terror as he watched the vines of water slither back into the toilet and faucets.
When all the water was gone, nothing was wet, not even the mattress, and the room was eerily silent. And Bentley was oddly drained.
Fire, Air, and Water. How clever, Mr. Whittaker.
Bentley looked back up at Bruce, who had a reassuring smile on his face.
“Are you going to get rid of me now?”
Before he heard the reply, everything faded to black.
—
The first (and pretty much only) thing he got back was his hearing.
“-telling you, this is different. The whole structure of his DNA looks strange. It’s different from the last blood sample we have from him — It almost looks like a whole new strand,” That was Tim’s voice, he was pretty sure.
“So you’re saying that whoever kidnapped him changed his human DNA into metahuman DNA?”
“It looks like they… tore apart his original genome and spliced other parts in… like they manufactured synthetic DNA with the genetic mutation of a metahuman and replaced pieces of his own with it. It looks like… whoa,”
“What is it, Timmy?”
“It’s changing. The synthetic DNA is actually… turning the rest of his DNA into metahuman genomes. Spreading… like a virus,”
“Will that hurt him?”
“Let’s just say… I understand why he thought he was dying,”
“You think that could be why Asten-“
Bentley, had he been any more lucid, would’ve flinched at the absolutely gut-wrenching scream that ripped through the air. He was laying on something soft — it just sort of felt like his bed. A bed, at least. And the scream sounded strangely close to him.
“Well, his genes are being ripped apart and replaced, so, if I had to guess, yeah. That’s probably why he’s screaming,”
“What about Bentley?” He was pretty sure that voice was Dick, now that it said his name.
“It seems to be the beginning of the change. I don’t think there’s much we can do to help,”
Suddenly, Bentley’s eyes began to burn even though they were closed. He moved a hand to rub them, but as soon as he moved his fingers, his entire arm erupted into a blazing, fiery pain that made him whine.
“Are they going to be okay?” Came a third voice — the voice of Nico. Bentley felt a hand land on his shoulder, but instead of being soothing, it left a ripple of burning agony that made him choke out a strange sound. The hand jumped away.
“Yeah, they will,” Replied Dick. “We just have to get them through this. How are you feeling?”
There was a silence where all Bentley heard was his own bated breathing.
“Well, I… I was already a metahuman, so…”
“Oh… okay,”
Bentley tensed, gripping whoever’s covers he was under hard when a surge of absolute burning agony washed over him. It felt like when he was poisoned. Worse than when he was poisoned — like someone was searing his veins closed with a blowtorch. Another choking sound made it's way out of him, but he couldn’t produce words.
“You’re okay, kiddo. You’re going to be okay,”
Asten screamed again. Nico was suddenly crying.
Another wave of absolute searing agony came and went, and Bentley fought it good — he really did. He kept his whining to a minimum for a solid ten minutes.
But then the fire reached his head, and suddenly, two children’s screams were ripping through the halls of Wayne Manor.
And everyone inside just had to listen.
—
dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚
—
tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)
@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere
#oc; bentley whittaker#oc; bentley#oc; asten#oc; asten evans#oc; nico rockefeller#oc; nico#oc; nico allen#mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#batboys#batfamily#batman#barbara gordon#oracle#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#cassandra cain#orphan#tim drake#red robin#stephanie brown#spoiler#duke thomas#signal#damian wayne#robin#ov; secret keeper
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congrats on 700 followers!!! ⭐️ for your celly, a blurb with prompt #1 with gabe perreault and any girl oc!!
long day cuddles
gabe perreault x fem!reader
after a long day, all gabe wants to do is crawl into his girlfriend's bed
0.5k words
gabeeee i love him so much. i think a gabe au is on the way at some point in the future! writing him is so much fun, i hope you like this requested blurb :)
700 celly masterlist
you were the only thing on gabe’s mind as he finished up with classes for the day. he trudged his way towards your dorm with the only thing he wanted was to crawl into your bed and fall asleep. finals drained everything out of him, especially since he had so much studying to catch up on after missing class due to being at the frozen four. he knew he needed a break though and you were the perfect pit stop before the library where he’d drown himself in his textbooks for the rest of the night.
he typed a quick message to you to let you know he would be at your dorm in five minutes so you could let him in. you responded almost immediately saying you would head down. gabe couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his lips knowing he got to see you in 50 steps. it was hard to find time together with your busy schedules, so the boy was grateful both of you had some free time.
he could see you standing by the door as he got closer, your own smile painting your lips when you spotted your boyfriend coming. gabe widened his stride to cut the walk down, scooping you into his arms as soon as he was close enough.
“hi baby,” you smiled into his shoulder.
“hi, so good to see you,” the dark-haired boy pecked your lips before leading him inside.
his fingers intertwined with yours while you waited for the elevator to come back down. “how was class?” your eyes found his again.
“it was fine. just tired is all,” the boy mumbled. you squeezed his hand tighter knowing how much studying he’s been doing to make up for the days he missed last week.
you rode up to your room in comfortable silence and as soon as you opened up the door, gabe’s backpack was on the ground, shoes off, and he climbed into your bed without much warning. he snuggled himself into the covers while you giggled as his behavior.
“tired much?” you laughed, kicking your own shoes off to join the sleepy hockey player.
“i told you,” gabe mumbled. he reached out for you, bringing you to lay on his chest as you got yourself comfortable beside him.
“how’s studying?” you brushed his loose curls away from his forehead.
“fine. feels like i missed a whole semester with how much i’m trying to teach myself,” gabe frowned.
“i mean, you did kind of miss a lot of class for games. i can always help you too,” you grinned, always glad to help your boyfriend study (as long as he didn’t distract both of you whenever you did study together).
“i know. i hate asking you though knowing you have a lot to study for too,” he always made sure he put you first. you rolled your eyes a bit.
“you should know that i’m weeks ahead already. maybe we can go to the library after a bit?” you suggested.
“sounds perfect,” gabe pulled you closer, wanting to lay in your bed for as long as he could.
#gabe perreault#gabe perreault x reader#gabe perreault x you#gabe perreault x y/n#boston college#boston college hockey#gabe perreault fluff#gabe perreault imagines#bc eagles#bc hockey#gabe perreault x fem!reader#peachhcs 700 celly!
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Working with Leviathan be like
Leviathan: *completely both rewrites a severe trauma trigger back into something neutral and freeing, and further reconnects me to the Sky and myself off plane and pre-incarnation in the space of 24 hours* yeah nice, anyway we should play video games now I'm tired
#ramblings //#Emphasis on he works over the span of months but he really is a uh... A pool of water that doesn't drip into your mind until you open the#door. And you think you will be drowned when you do but he is so soothing. And he walks with you#And sometimes what he walks you through is really painful and it's like what the actual fuck am I doing but he stays there like#duh it's what I said would happen it's fine trust me#And you do and then it's like. Holy shit. Look what I walked through. Hope you're proud of me#leviathan //#ramblings //#Anyway. Friendship ended with Despise A Certain Game now Ending Of The Game Where She's Soothed And The Rain Fades is my friend#And. I didn't realise how much I'd become afraid to talk about me. I talk about Leviathan all the time as the sky but I don't.... Like#talking about myself as a part of the day sky and what that means. I have. Thanks to him. Had gateways opened to astral memories#that I was too scared to touch and.... I'm.... I think I'm ready to start recorroborating my info between brains in astral and physical#bodies..... I think..... I'm ready I'm... I am So fucking End Of Game Where Rain Fades right now and that makes me want to fucking bawl my#eyes out because a) I wasn't allowed in the cult I was in to go near that part of the game bc they told me the character there was alive and#she hated my guts and thought I was disgusting. And b) god the storyline involving her is just so so so so so relevant to my life post-cult#:( you know. Just :(#Diary //#The child returns to her mother the cycle is done the rain clears the ocean is infinite the workings of the cult I mean church are undone#And that doesn't scare me anymore? The cult was so.... Had me thinking that any time that game was brought up they were in control of it#and they would see me and it was their game and they made it alone and I could never just enjoy it as a video game.... It#Still hurts a little but leviathan walked me through allowing it to be neutral and admitting that I see myself in it. Because I tried my#hardest to not admit that thinking that if I did they'd be in my head but mo#No* it's... Its a communal thing. It's allowed to be relatable to a wide audience for neutral reasons. I don't have to break down when I see#it. And I'm allowed to talk about the Sky and I'm allowed to talk about where and when I met Leviathan and I'm allowed to not hide what I do#with him because others may take it as gross exaggerations for bragging rights - I'm allowed to be neutral. Just because at one point in my#life I thought astral projection was only for a select few does not mean now that I do it I have to hide it in case someone like me#takes their insecurity so far that they see my neutral declarations as an attack on them............. Anyway#The Day Sky. My beloved. You mean so much to me. I won't forget my purpose in this incarnation I will not hide it#Thanks Lev#I love that arguably calling him Lev is more controversial than calling him Tengri but it's Not just a nickname lmfao
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