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madelynraemunson · 1 day

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NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

#maddy’s mailbox ✨#blurb #eddie munson blurb #ex husband!eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #ex husband!eddie x reader #ex husband!eddie munson x reader

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meiieiri · 3 days

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

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merminns · 2 days

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A happy ending and beautiful beginning

Bakugo x reader

❧ Word Count: 0.5k

❧ this is my take on soft big boy katsuki. Just a little something to warm up with, and I'll be sticking with the old theme until I figure out what to do with the blog.

gn reader

Bakugo katsuki was always rough around the edges.

That was a well known fact.

He's brash and loud, he doesn't take shit from anyone and likes to make it a point how he's better than everyone else.

Everyone warned him that he'd end up lonely one day. That he'd never manage to befriend anybody, that he'd never find a partner.

He didn't care, he didn't want friends, didn't care for a partner, all he wanted was to become the best. And he dedicated his entire life to reach that goal, to become the greatest hero in existence, and he made sure everyone knows about it too, always advertising how he'd crush everyone else.

That's why he never thought he'd find himself here, in a warm cozy house that's currently cramped with all of those he cares about, his family, his friends and...You.

You with your bright smile and twinkling eyes and a heart too pure for this world. It was no wonder that he fell for you, but the fact that you returned that love was baffling to him. You were the one thing that he never dreamed he'd have.

He never understood how you managed to see past his sharp edges and rough front. How you saw all of him, all of his flaws, and still loved him.

Now, there are people who still criticize his personality, who wonder aloud about how someone like him could manage to end up with you. And even though he sometimes finds it hard to believe too, he doesn't care what anyone else says. Cause what he has now proves they've been wrong all along.

Cause here he is now, sharing his life with someone he loves in ways he never thought possible, someone he would give his life for. He knew deep down that he'd rip the world apart if only it mean you'd give him a smile, just a tiny tired smile like the one on your face right now as you're thanking everyone who came to congratulate you.

Bakugo moved from where he stood in the opposite corner of the room to you, and with every step he took closer to you his heart warmed a little more. Until he reached you, bending down to land a light kiss on your forehead and take the tiny bundle rest in your arms. The sleeping little baby that was the main attraction of the night, the reason everyone gathered around to congratulate you. His child. Your child. And as he held the baby in his arms he felt his heart melting at how beautiful they were, your little creation.

Then with eyes so bright and suspiciously watery, bakugo started on his way to put your baby in their crib threating his gathered loved ones that he's going to murder whoever disturbs his child's sleep.

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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 days

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Dolonia

Dolonia is defined as: a state of unease prompted by people who seem to like you too much, which makes you wonder if they must have you confused with someone else—someone flawless, selfless, or easy to understand from a distance.

Potter rolled over, pressing his too hot, too sweaty body against Draco's. And in spite of the fact that he was altogether too hot, that he was sticky, and still breathing too heavy, he couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"That was good," Potter said, trailing his fingers over Draco's ribs, brushing back and forth lightly and leaving trails of electricity shaking through Draco's chest.

He hummed, hoping it sounded aloof and noncommittal, like he wasn't trying too hard and didn't care too much about Potter's opinion, anything to convince himself that that was the truth.

"Do you want to order in some food from the Thai place down the street?" he asked, "or maybe we could go out? There's that diner a couple of blocks away, y-"

"You want to eat with me?" he asked incredulously, because fucking was one thing and occasionally sleeping in the same bed after being too tired to move made sense. But going out and eating together was something else entirely.

"Yeah," Potter said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "I'm starving, aren't you? We haven't eaten since lunch and that case was no easy thing to solve."

"Yes," he conceded, "That's what the celebratory sex was for."

Potter laughed, that bright, delighted sound that made it seem like nothing in the world was wrong. "Sure, just." He sat up, looking down at Draco, eyes impossibly large and impossibly green, "do you not want to get food with me? It's fine if you don't," he added, "just say so and I'll leave you to it."

"It's not that I don't want to get food with you," he said with a frown, staring at the mole on Potter's neck to avoid looking into his eyes. "It's just that you seem to be making this into something that it's not."

"What do you mean?" he asked, fingers carding through Draco's hair and brushing the loose strands back off his face.

He rolled his eyes, trying to make himself seem less vulnerable than he actually felt. "It's like you don't remember who I actually am sometimes."

Potter laughed, "Of course I remember who you are. You're my annoying, prat of a partner, too brilliant for his own good. You're the idiot that I come in to work with every morning wondering what sort of chaos my day is about to hold because even simple robbery cases turn into something that has years of ancestral battles and blood magic tied into it. You have very particular tea habits, and you like everything just so. I drive you mad but you still put up with me in your bed anyway."

"You're a good fuck, Potter," he said flippantly.

With a laugh, Potter leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, like casual affection was the sort of thing that they did. "I know you."

And that reminded Draco of where this had all started, "right, but it's like you don't remember all the other parts, all of the things that came before."

He shrugged, "Why would I? You aren't that person anymore, you don't believe those things, you've turned your entire life around."

"But I am still those things," he said, shaking his head. "Sure, I don't believe what I used to, but that doesn't change that I was raised in that culture, it doesn't change that I still go to have brunch with my parents at the manor every other Sunday, or that I know how to get my way in the Ministry, or that I'm an expert manipulator-"

"Hey," Potter said, cupping his cheek. "Hey. Relax. Take a breath," he said, lips pressing to the crease between Draco's eyebrows. "You're okay. We're okay."

"I'm don't-"

"I know who you are, Draco."

"But-"

He shook his head, "I know who you are. I remember all of the things there are to know about you. I know who you were, I know all of the work you've done to be different, I know who you are now. I know you," he repeated. "Just like you know me. It's what makes us such good partners in the office and out of it." He let out a soft self-deprecating chuckle, "Please don't think that you're the only one of the two of us who's spent the past fifteen years meticulously watching the other. I know you, Draco."

He frowned up at him, uncertain where this could be going then, if Potter consciously chose Draco with all of his faults and flaws instead of just for the convenience of it.

"I know you," he repeated, "and I want you." He shrugged, "I've just been waiting for you to be ready to hear it." He grinned at him, "So, what do you say? Dinner?"

And how could he say anything but yes?

#drarry #love #soft #fluff #short and sweet #prompts #askbox #hello everyone. the writer is not dead-she's just happy and loved #one shot

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smoooothoperator · 3 days

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What Was I Made For?

01: Crossfire

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

a/n: Hi!!! First chapter! Are you guys excited? What do you think that will happen?

Masterlist

previous part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Monza. One of the two most important races for Ferrari in the calendar.

And my home race as well.

The weather is still warm at the end of August, the sky is blue and every house has a Ferrari flag hanging from their windows. Every person that lives in Milano or in Italy knows that this weekend is important, that this weekend is their weekend.

“Do you think they will give you a chance to be the priority today?”

Erica, my older sister by only two years. She was completely different from me, with blonde hair and skin easily tanned. She always came to my races, being the one that takes care of my flights and to rent cars to have during the weekend. Not like Soleil, who was actually a little version of me and my nutritionist.

“I mean, I'm ahead of Leclerc. They should” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I ate my breakfast. “The only person in front of me is Max, I don't think they want to risk and fuck up things right if front of all the Tifosi. They are idiots, but not that much to make me and Charles switch positions just because I'm the second driver”

Erica looked at me with a smile, nodding as she tied the strap of her dress in the back of her neck. Every time she came to the races she made sure to be dressed with the colors of the team, always wearing red since I was contracted by Ferrari and then white, red and black when I was in Haas. Today, for my homerace, she was wearing a nice cherry red dress from Meshki, a brand I made collabs with some months ago.

“If they were smart they would do a good job and instead of letting Charles fight, they would order him to defend you from Lando” Soleil pointed, helping Erica to tie the dress. “Is not the first time they order you do that for him, and for once that you are in front of him they should give you a chance”

“I just want to end on the podium, that is the goal today” I sighed. “What Charles does is all his business”

“At least you should talk about the strategy…” Soleil sighed. “Only to make things clear. This is your home race, he should respect that”

“Hah! Sure” I laughed. “It was my home race last year too and he didn’t think twice to overtake me in the last lap even if his engineer was screaming in his ears to not do that. That’s even more cruel that overtaking me in the middle of the race”

“But last year you two didn't have a warning like this year” Erica sighed.

“Whatever, he’ll be an asshole anyway”

My sisters looked at each other and rolled their eyes, probably tired of the rivalry between Charles and I. But they don’t understand, they don’t understand how it feels to always be challenged by him since the first time he saw me. It was like he was a bully and I was his victim.

“You two are twenty six, when will be the day you two fix things?” Erica asked.

“When one of us dies” I stated, making both of my sisters groan.

“Drama queen” Soleil sighed.

“Yes I am”

Getting out of the hotel was something that took us half an hour, being stopped by fans that waited for the drivers to start their way to the track. They called my name and the nickname they gave me when I got famous.

“Princepessa”

The good thing about being half Italian was that they didn't care if my other half was British. They cared about my Italian roots, feeling proud that someone from their country is driving for Ferrari. A Tifosi driving for the Tifosi.

“Today will be your day” a fan said. “You'll win this race”

I smiled at them, letting them put the friendship bracelets on my wrists and taking pictures with them, somehow wanting to believe all the words they said.

Some meters in front of me was Charles, signing caps and shirts on his way to the car. I recognized Andrea (his personal trainer), Joris (his photographer) and then a girl, probably his new fling. They were waiting for him already inside of the car, the three of them looking down at their phones.

“Is that his new girl?” I whispered to Erica, looking at the car Charles was walking to.

“I think so, she was in the hospitality yesterday” Erica answered, nodding. “I would say she's nice, but the only things she did was make tons of Tik Tok videos and pictures for her Instagram”

“Are we gossiping about his new girl?” Soleil smiled, stepping between us. “She's not nice. She thought I was one of the restaurant crew and just ordered me to bring her a coffee! And her manners? Uhg, non existent”

“His taste in women is really suspicious” I joked, looking at that girl, who actually looked like me.

The three of us walked towards the car that was waiting for us, walking in front of Charles' car and looking at the girl that was sitting in the front seat on the passenger seat. She was looking at her phone, recording a Tik Tok probably, while Joris and Andrea tried to not make obvious eye rolls.

“Yeah, neither his friends like her” Erica pointed.

I sighed, walking to the driver seat of my rented car and got it, turning on the engine while my sisters got in the car. People noticed us and started to wave at me, all of them holding the shirts and and even flags and waving them as I drove next to them.

“They want you to win” Soleil said excitedly, watching the Tifosi wave their hands.

“They want Ferrari to win” I corrected. “They don't care of it's me or Charles”

I heard them sigh and I just shrugged my shoulders, driving towards the track while the police guided us, somehow making sure neither Charles or myself suffered an accident before arriving.

If we have an accident during the race it’s no longer their problem.

After I parked the car, I saw Charles parking right next to mine, opening the door and looking at me. He sighed, rolling his eyes when I waved at him and immediately placed his hand on the back of the girl that was with him in this race.

I walked with my sisters, just a little faster to enter the paddock first, and when I looked at his girl I nearly laughed right on his face.

She was dressed with a top that only covered her front side and a skirt that had an opening on the side and let you see all her leg.

“I think you went to the wrong place” I smiled at that girl. “Coachella was on April and Tomorrowland was on July”

“It's fashion” she frowned, her voice sounding too high. “You wouldn't understand”

“I do understand. At least I went to the Met Gala” I smiled, walking away and pressing my Paddock Pass on the ID scanner.

I could feel Charles' eyes on my back, probably thinking about ways of how to take me off of the track in a few hours, or how to poison my lunch. He would do anything to make sure I won't perform better than him.

Cameras and reporters followed me, making my sisters walk some feet behind me, taking pictures of me and asking things related to the race, which I always replied with the same answer.

“I'll do everything I can to win. It's an important race for me and for the team”

When they were satisfied with my answer and after they had enough pictures of me, they walked away to focus on other drivers that were around the paddock too.

As soon as the red building was close enough, the media managers and content creators of the team started to fly around me and soon after Charles, asking questions and doing the trends that were famous on social media.

Let's start the act.

The smile on my face was half real, half fake. Having Charles near while we were inside of the hospitality meant that the rivalry we had since kids had to be left outside the building, making us act friendly and fake just to make the team and sponsors happy.

“Hey Daf!”

He knows I hate that nickname. He knows that every time he called me like that I ended up screaming at him, telling him that he's not allowed to call me that way, only one person and he is dead.

“Charlie!” I smiled, fakely, watching how he fought to not roll his eyes or look daggers at me. “Those jeans again? How many of them do you have?”

In moments like this I enjoyed teasing him, giving him nicknames he hated and making sure he couldn't fight me.

“This jeans, dear Dafne, are my lucky jeans” he said, smiling.

“Mhm, I wonder when are you going to burn them” I said. “But seems that your girl has the same taste as you, now makes sense”

I saw him clench his jaw and fists, taking deep breaths and looking at him with his eyes furrowed. He knows he can't do anything, so he simply smiles and nods, walking away to his room followed by that girl.

“What was her name?” I asked Soleil. “She has face of Karen”

“I think it's actually Karen” she laughed. “I wonder where he met her”

“I'm sure it was on Raya” I chuckled. “Maybe a summer fling that stayed for too long and he doesn't even know how to say no to her”

“I don't know who I should feel sorry for” Soleil sighed. “Him because she clearly is with him for the money, or her because she will probably be replaced soon”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at the room with his number on the door, wondering what they would be doing. Ignoring each other? Her looking at the phone and taking pictures while Charles got changed? Probably that, or she would even be using him to take pictures of her so she could post them on Instagram, hinting that she's with him.

“Whatever, they are adults” I sighed, getting up.

When I opened the door of my room and sighed, hearing how they talked, or most likely argued.

“What is her fucking problem? Why did she talk like that to me?” that girl exclaimed. “How dare she?”

“Come on, it wasn't that bad, Melanie…”

“Are you going to defend her or me?” her voice was too high, piercing into my ears. “Charles!”

“What! Fuck off, Melanie! You knew where you were coming, don't cry now. I told you what clothes you had to pack and, as always, you did whatever you wanted” he groaned, and I could hear how he closed the door of his closet.

“God, sometimes you are so stupid”

“Whatever”

I smiled, changing my clothes to my racing suit and folding my clothes, stretching my back and arms before walking out of the room, just at the same time as Charles. His jaw was clenched and I could see the vein of his temple a little swollen, something that always happened whenever he was angry or stressed, and probably now would be both reasons.

“Next time you bring a girl, make sure she knows where she's coming” I whispered.

“What about you won't open your mouth next time I bring a girl?” he frowned. “You are giving me a headache”

“Oh really? That's nice!” I smiled, winking at him and walking away. “You should have a painkiller, anyway”

“What I should have is a good race without you in front of me” he groaned.

“Too bad it won't be possible” I said. “Get used to it, I plan of being in front of you as much as I can”

That smile.

God, I hated that smile.

I hated that she always knew what to say and how.

“We'll see soon” I frowned.

She rolled her eyes and walked away, making me follow her with my eyes. Melanie walked out of the room and stood next to me, never letting go of her phone.

“Should I go to the balcony? I think there are nice views of the… How do you call it?” she said, making me take a deep breath and fake a smile.

“Paddock” I said.

“Oh yeah! That” she smiled.

“Look” I sighed. “I have things to do, I'm not your photographer”

Before she could say something I already was walking away towards the restaurant, sitting on a table and looking at my phone. Just a small lunch before doing interviews and then getting ready for the race, an ice bath and some stretch outs.

“Where did you leave that girl?”

I turned around and sighed when I recognized Erica's voice. She sat next to me and placed the cup of coffee in front of me.

Dafne's older sister always tried to be out of our arguments. When we were kids, she always avoided our fights and stood away with my brother and Jules, ignoring us. I always believed that Jules and her would end up together, and somehow maybe they were for some time.

Maybe that's why she always tried to befriend me too, to make me feel that Jules was here too, and for her to have someone that reminds her of Jules.

“Last time I saw her she was asking me to take pictures of her” I sighed, grabbing the cup and drinking it slowly. “She was getting annoying”

“And why did you bring her, then?” she sighed. “I thought you were smarter”

“Did Dafne send you so she could just use this against me later?” I said looking at her, watching how she shook her head and smiled weakly.

“I came here because I care for you, Charles. I don't care if my sister and you can't stand each other” she said, resting her back on the chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes went to the small tattoo of her wrist, one of many she has. The little 17 was facing me.

“A guy has his needs” I sighed. “And she was there on vacations”

“Sure, but you know what she has been doing while you were out of the hospitality?” she sighed, but I already knew the answer. “She thinks she's your girlfriend, Charles, only because you let her be in your bed”

“And what if she is?” I frowned, and somehow that tattoo got darker than it already was.

Jules would be disappointed, right?

“Look, I just…” I sighed, but immediately shook my head. “You wouldn't understand”

Of course she wouldn't. Because I don't understand it either.

“Then explain it to me, hm? I might be Dafne's sister, but I'm your friend too” she said.

“Not now, okay?” I sighed. “I have things to do, a race to make”

“Alright” she sighed. “Good luck today, Charlie. Just… don't kill my sister”

She stood up and walked away, not after she messed my hair softly.

Jules and her would have made a really beautiful couple.

I took a deep breath and sighed, getting up and walking to my room again. I looked inside Dafne's room and frowned when I saw a fruit basket on her table, finding a big amount of peaches on it.

“Fuck” I sighed, walking in and grabbing that fruit.

I might hate her, but I don't wish her death.

“What are you doing?”

I tensed and took a deep breath, turning around and finding Dafne leaning on the door frame, watching me with the peaches in my hands.

“Nothing” I said.

“Putting a fruit you know I'm allergic to in a basket?” she frowned. “I thought you were stupid, but this? This is crossing the line”

“No! Hey!” I frowned. Did she really think I put them on purpose? “I just grabbed them because I know you are allergic to the peel of the peach, asshole. You are welcome”

Before she could say anything I walked out of her room and went to mine, locking the door and groaning.

The Italian anthem echoed through the stands of Monza, reverberating in my chest as I stood in front of the grid. My heart pounded in time with the fervent claps and chants of the Tifosi, their energy a palpable force lifting me higher. The sea of red around the circuit was a sight to behold, with their flags waving, faces painted, the roar of their passion almost louder than the melody of the anthem.

This was my home, my people, and today, I was going to give them a race to remember.

After the final notes finished, I walked back to my car, in the first line of the grid, next to the navy blue Red Bull. No one was in front of me, the only car to beat was the Red Bull. I looked to the car behind it, the other red one of the grid, Charles’ car. I felt his eyes on me, and the only thing I did was put on my helmet and remember that today was my day, not his.

This is my race.

The formation lap felt like an eternity, each second stretching as I warmed up the tires, feeling the grip, the balance of the car. As we lined up on the grid once more, the tension was almost unbearable.

Five lights.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lights out.

I launched off the line, my tires gripping perfectly as I sped towards the first chicane. Max had a strong start, but I was right on his tail, the slipstream pulling me closer. Behind me, I could feel Charles trying to find an opening, but I shut the door firmly at every opportunity.

Lap after lap, I pushed harder, feeling the car’s every response. I stayed within striking distance of Max, waiting for my chance. And then, halfway through the race, it came. Max made a slight error going into the Parabolica, his line not as clean as usual. It was all the invitation I needed.

I dived down the inside, my heart in my throat, and for a moment, we were side by side. But I had the better exit, my car flying past him down the main straight as the tifosi erupted in a deafening cheer. The lead was mine.

Now it was a matter of maintaining it. Every lap felt like a battle, not just with the track but with my own nerves. I could feel Charles gaining behind me, his pace relentless. But I focused forward, hitting every apex, every braking zone perfectly. The laps ticked down, and with each one, my confidence grew.

The final lap was a blur. I could feel the tears in my eyes, barely letting me see the track, but I kept driving, pushing and turning the wheel until I crossed the finish line.

“Dafne Morelli, you are a race winner!”

I did it. I finally did it.

As I parked the car in the pit lane and got out of the car, I heard the roar of the crowd, all of them waving the Italian flag over their heads. I saw my team, all dressed in red and jumping, cham¡nting my name. I felt pats on my back and helmet, some drivers coming to congratulate me.

But I felt that gaze too, the one that always burned me alive whenever I won him.

And it felt so satisfying knowing that I won against Charles Leclerc.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins

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a66-1 · 3 days

Note

I am in desperate need of some Simon fluff. My French professor is just about THE worst person I've ever encountered in my life and has entirely put me off wanting to learn a language at all. I'd appreciate it more than you can imagine 🙏🏻

Get that French teacher over here, I have a few words for them 😈😈

I'm so sorry. As my condolences here's some Simon fluff because your teachers suck in this universe

Sickenly sweet! Simon x Absolutely done with class! Reader

"Love? What's with.. The face?" Simon had peaked his head around your door, frowning when he saw such a look of discontentment written all over yours.

You turned your head, daggers ready to be thrown at anyone around you, but Simon's face made it impossible for you to do anything other than drop your resolve and tell him everything. Would you sound whiny for getting upset over a teacher? It's so elementary.

"There's.. No face, I'm just tired." you threw out an excuse, making yourself busy by digging through your bag, searching for that work that's due on Tuesdays lecture, fuck!

"You look minutes away from either A) crying or B) ending the life of someone." Simon snorted, walking into your room. Your desk had all of your French work and textbooks you have, but you can't seem to pick anything up anymore, because of that fucking professeur making learning your least favorite thing in his class.

You scowl, pulling out the work from the last lecture, "I'm.. Stressed, Simon, do you have to dig and nag right now?"

Simon looks up from your desk, before approaching you, his hand sliding into your hair. You leaned instantly, looking up at him. He smiled softly, before dropping to a kneel in front of you. "Of course I do. I can make it all better," he kissed your palm he stole from holding your work.

You smiled wearily, "lovey, I love you but I'm still busy-"

"Busy with what? Trying to learn when your all spent from class? I know how you speak of that professor." He moved your book bag away, hooking his arms around your waist, standing with you. You yelp slightly, hitting his shoulder.

"Put me down, Si-" You counter, and his softly kissed your face until you stopped asking to go back to your work. He brought you to watch the show you guys have been binge watching.

"Once you're all calmed down, you think you could go back to the work to learn?" He mumbled in you ear. You nodded.

"I'll try. Can you sit with me? I know you can't help, but.." Simon nodded anyway, and you snuggled closer.

If you were forced to learn with this man with you, you think you'd learn anything quickly.

Sgsshsshsh phone writing, of mistakes, L me bc I'm not proofreading.

Ilysm! I hope that professor finds me 😈

-a661

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon fluff

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thedensworld · 2 days

Text

People's Person | X.Mh

Pairing: The8 x reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: You never had a person. You were always be the people's person.

Note: The8 refers as Seo Myunho

Welcome to the #densworld Minghao🤍🌼

You had to walk from the office today. On your way to the bus stop, your stuff was robbed—your phone, wallet, and bag were gone. Exhausted, you didn't have the energy to chase after the pickpocket, especially after being scolded by your anger-issues-ridden manager. Today, you lost everything, and it seemed like even the heavens wanted everyone to know by throwing down the rain.

Wet and tired, you trudged back to your apartment. You stood in front of your unit, unsure of what to do as you entered the passcode for the third time, but the door still wouldn't open. You leaned in and rested your forehead against the door, weakly banging on it in frustration. A tear escaped your eye, soon followed by another, until they were streaming down your face in a marathon of sorrow. You sobbed quietly, sad and cold, with the clock pointing to 11 p.m. You desperately needed rest.

Your body slid down to the floor as you reflected on the day. You woke up late and were mocked by your toxic colleague. Your manager kept asking you to revise your design just because he was having a bad day and you seemed like the perfect punching bag. You got robbed and soaked on the way home. This couldn't be worse.

As your sobs subsided, you stood up and noticed someone watching you from the side. It was your next-door neighbor, standing in front of his unit with a canvas in his hand—the painter next door. You wiped away your tears and bowed politely to him. As you considered crashing at a friend's house, still deciding who to call, you began to walk away slowly, sighing as your feet throbbed with pain.

"Hey," he called out, stopping you in your tracks.

He hesitated before speaking again. "I don't know if it's proper to ask, but I can't just let you go in this condition." He motioned toward your drenched clothes and tear-streaked face. "How about drying your clothes at my place? Or maybe a cup of warm tea? I could call building maintenance about your door; something seems wrong with it."

You blinked at his offer, unsure of what to say or do. He looked at you for a moment longer before quickly shifting his eyes and hurrying to open his unit.

"If—if you're not comfortable being with me, I can step out for a while. Or... or maybe if you still want to go, you can take my umbrella." He handed you his umbrella quickly.

You looked at the umbrella, torn. Deep down, you wanted to dry your clothes more than anything; that would be the most comfortable thing at the moment. And a warm cup of tea sounded heavenly. But he also handed you the umbrella, making you wonder if he preferred you to leave. You thought for a while before shifting your eyes back to his.

He gasped and quickly took the umbrella back. "No... You can dry your clothes at my place. Please, you might get sick."

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded. The thought of warmth and dryness, even if just for a little while, was too tempting to pass up. As you followed him inside, you felt a small spark of hope flicker within you. Maybe today wasn't a complete loss after all.

"Here.." He put down a cup of warm tea he just brewed while you were drying your clothes. Still couldn't believe that you were now wearing your neighbor's hoodie and sweatpants, something that you would never expect.

"Thanks." You murmured almost whisperly.

He sat across from you on his little dinner table. "I called the building maintenance staff, no one is on shift tonight, so you have to wait untill next morning." He explained and you nodded.

"Do you have anywhere to sleep for tonight?" He asked next and you wondered if you had.

You looked at him and asked to borrow his phone to call one of your friend. He handed it and you immediately called her. Eunha was your college friend, however due to working time you two were barely hanging out these days.

"I'm sorry, Y/n.. My boyfriend is here, so.."

"It's okay, Eunha.. Have a good night."

You closed the call and he looked at you in hope. However you shook your head. "I think i crash sauna, tonight." You said to him and smiled.

Your smile quickly dropped, you have no money with you.

"You can stay here actually, i barely sleep at night so the bedroom is vacant." He said, his eyes wondering to the unfinished paint stood near his window.

You woke up at 6, pretty early to start the day. However, today you didn't go to work after sending a notice email to your manager about being sick, using your neighbor's laptop, of course. You walked out of the bedroom quietly, but you saw your neighbor was awake, still sitting on his stool with a painting palette in his hand. He sensed your presence and turned his head.

"An early bird, aren't you?" he joked before continuing to paint.

You put on your dried clothes and joined your neighbor in the kitchen.

"Sorry, I'm a bit messy. Hope you don't mind," he said, motioning to his paint-stained clothes.

"At least they're not wet," you mumbled, which gained a chuckle from him.

"What can I help with?" you asked.

"Here, you can take over this while I change," he said, handing you the stirrer. On the stove, there was a pot with chicken soup inside. When had he made all of this?

After a while, he came back, freshly changed. He informed you that the maintenance staff would be coming in ten minutes. The two of you ate in silence for a bit.

"Yesterday..." he started. Your eyes shifted from your food to his face. "I didn't see you on the bus."

Your brows raised in confusion, and he noticed that. "Usually, I see you get off the bus around that hour."

You clicked. At 8, the bus you usually took would drop you off, and you would see him take it on a different route from the bus stop. The only routine you had shared with him.

"Where are you going at that time usually?" your curiosity piqued, then you realized it might be impolite to ask such a question. You immediately told him that he didn't have to answer that.

"No, it's okay," he chuckled. "I actually go to my studio every night. However, I forgot to bring some stuff last night, so I decided to come back and work at home."

You hummed and nodded in acknowledgment.

"You work in some company?" he asked.

"Yes, at a publisher. I work as their graphic designer."

"Usually back home at that hour? That's pretty late. Got busy?"

You shook your head slowly. "Actually... it was a really bad day. I don't know if it's proper to say this, but I don't think I can handle it by myself."

His eyes filled with concern as he listened.

"Yesterday was pretty awful," you continued. "My manager barked at me because he had a bad day. Then, I got robbed on my way home, so I don't have my phone or any cash. I couldn't take the bus and didn't have anywhere to crash. I—"

His eyes widened, and he immediately put down his utensils. "Hey, take it slow. It's okay, you can tell me everything."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I just want to express my gratitude. You... you made my day a little bit better yesterday."

He smiled warmly. "Glad to hear that. And you're welcome."

His kindness and the simple act of listening made you feel lighter, as if the weight of the previous day's misfortunes had been lifted, if only just a little.

A few knocks were heard, signaling that the maintenance crew had arrived.

"Morning, sir. The lock next door is fixed. It's ready to have the passcode changed," one of the workers announced.

You looked at your neighbor and smiled politely. You bowed slightly before turning to leave his place.

"I'm Myungho. Seo Myungho," he said quickly, almost as if he didn't want you to leave without knowing his name.

You turned your head slightly and smiled warmly. "I'm Ji Y/N. Thanks, Myungho."

As you walked out, a warm feeling settled in your chest. Despite everything that had happened, maybe today would be a little bit better. The kindness of a stranger—now no longer a stranger—had made a difference. You felt a spark of hope and the comfort of knowing that, even on the worst days, there were people willing to help.

Maybe, just maybe, things would start looking up from here.

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 1 day

Text

Wake Up Adam!

@fanofstuff02 About that ask from earlier.

Adam was exhausted, he hadn't slept for nearly four days. It didn't matter what he did, he tried tea, the tried different sleeping positions, he tried weird hacks from the internet.

Nothing worked.

He had his head resting on his hand at the breakfast table, eyes heavy but not enough to whisk him away to dreamland. Adam groaned as a headache started to set in. He closed his eyes and they throbbed with the need for sleep.

"Are you okay, Adam? You haven't touched your pancakes." Charlie asked from the other side of the table as she ate her own.

Adam opened his eyes to glare at her. "I'm fucking exhausted, I haven't slept in fuck knows how long. I think I'm starting to see shit."

"Have tried anything to get to sleep?" Lucifer asked as he sat down beside Adam. Adam looked awful, he had deep dark bags under his eyes, he looked slightly pale, and it looked as if he was going to face plant into his food.

Adam scowled at the King. "Gee, why didn't I fucking think of that! Oh that's right, I did!" Lack of sleep was making Adam rather snippy.

Well, snippyer than normal.

"Why didn't you just say something? I could have helped you get to sleep." Lucifer wiggled his fingers with a half smile. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks asshole." Adam put his face in his hands. "How would you do it?" He was far too tired to give a shit if Lucifer even tranquilized his ass.

Lucifer got up and motioned for Adam to follow him. They went into the lobby and he sat Adam down on the couch. It's almost like that one time back in Eden when Adam couldn't sleep and Lucifer sang him to sleep.

Only this time he wouldn't be singing.

"Okay, relax. This won't hurt a bit." Before Adam could question what he meant by that, Lucifer pressed his index finger to the middle of Adam's forehead. He watched as Adam's eyes rolled in the back of his head only showing the whites. Adam slumped back, eyes closed and breathing even. "Sweet dreams princess."

"How long will he be asleep?" Charlie asked as she entered the room.

"As long as he needs. Likely hours. But that's fine, it's not like there's anything important he needs to do." Lucifer sat down beside Adam's sleeping form, he looked so peaceful like this. He even started to snore a little bit and it wasn't even a loud obnoxious one. It was soft and quiet, you'd hardly know he was doing it.

It was at this moment that Angel walked in with an arm full of mail. "This came for you, Lucifer." He handed the envelope to the King and went in his way to go through the mail.

"Thank you, Angel." Lucifer knew just by looking at it that it was a letter from heaven. More specifically Sera herself.

Dear King Lucifer Morningstar,

I am writing to seek an audience with you and Adam. Since he has been in Hell with you for sometime now, I would like to see him in person to make sure that no one, including yourself is bringing harm to him.

Two o'clock at the heaven embassy tomorrow.

Be there with Adam unharmed.

Yours faithfully,

Sera

Lucifer looked over at the passed out sinner beside him. This was fine, they had plenty of time before tomorrow. Adam would have his good nights rest, tell Sera he's okay, and everything would be alright in the world.

Only by noon the next day Adam was still asleep and no one could wake him up.

"Wake up, Adam! We have to go see Sera!" Lucifer shook him but that did nothing. Strangely, not even his magic could wake him.

"Did you kill him?" Angel asked poking Adam's cheek.

"No! He's just sleeping." Lucifer needed to wake him up and fast. "If you don't wake up, I'll smash your guitar and set it on fire."

Nothing. Not even the slightest movement of an eyelash.

"He'll cut your nuts off big guy!" Angel tried and again, nothing.

"They're replacing rock music with jazz!"

"They're discontinuing reality tv!"

"There are no more ribs in all of Hell!"

"Lucifer wants to marry you!"

Lucifer looked at Angel with an unreadable expression. "Dude, seriously?" Sure, him and Adam were dating but it was way too soon for that.

Even if Lucifer has thought about how good the name 'Adam Morningstar' sounds.

Angel shrugged. "I thought that would wake him up, being with his true love forever." He placed the back of his hand on his forehead in dramatic fashion.

"If he were awake he'd smack you."

"That's how I know this is a super deep sleep!"

Lucifer crossed his arms, they needed to wake him before he went to see Sera. "Get me his guitar and amp." Angel did as he was told and Lucifer hooked it up and turned it up as loudly as he could.

This had to work.

Lucifer ripped a cord so loud it shattered every window in the hotel. Adam didn't even flinche. "Oh come on!"

"What!?" Angel yelled, his ears were ringing.

"Dad! What is going on in here?" Charlie walked in gesturing all around to the broken windows and glass. "Is Adam still sleeping?"

"We can't wake him." Lucifer put the guitar dowm. "Sera wants to see him in one hour and we can't fucking wake him!" Adam snored from his spot on the couch. "Wake up!"

"Oh, what if we did this?" Angel pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his chest fluff and places them on Adam's face. "You mimic his voice and Sera won't know!"

"That's crazy enough to work." Lucifer got in behind Adam and seized his hands, moving them around how Adam would. He cleared his throat and did what he thought was a good Adam impression. "Hey Sera it's me Adam! I fucking rock and am the best merely for existing!"

"Dad she's gonna know."

"Dad? Who's dad, I'm Adam!"

"Dad please stop."

Lucifer sighed and places Adam back where he was and moved away. "Well I don't know what to do! She's gonna think I killed him or some shit." He ran a hand through his hair. Of all the times for this to happen it had to be when Sera wanted to see him.

She never was good with timing.

"I'll have to take him as is and explain the situation." Lucifer scooped Adam up into his arms and opened a portal to the heaven embassy. He walked over to the desk and signed in. "Come on bud, wake up before Sera gets here and bitches me out."

Lucifer entered the meeting room and set Adam down in a chair, he slumped forward onto the table drooling slightly.

The lights turned on and Sera was ay the other end of the table with a neutral expression gracing her face. "Lucifer, why is Adam unconscious?"

"He's just sleeping, relax." Lucifer tried to sound nonchalant but he was freaking out inside.

"So wake him."

"I can't."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Can't or won't?"

This bitch. "Can't. He's a very deep sleeper apparently."

"Does this have anything to do with your devil magic?" Sera crossed her arms and glares firmly. "Lucifer, you wake him up or there is going to be trouble."

"That a threat?"

"More like a promise." He knew that Sera cared for Adam like a mother, but would she really rage war against Hell because Adam took an overdue nap? The hateful look in her eyes told him yes, yes she would.

"Give me a minute." Lucifer wheeled Adams chair into the hallway.

"Lucifer!"

He ignored her in favor of proping Adam up. "Come on princess, you've had enough beauty sleep time to wake up." He didn't know what to do and he was out of time. "Adam, come on sleeping beauty."

Wait.

Sleeping beauty.....

"If this works I'm gonna scream." Lucifer cupped Adams face and firmly kissed his lips for a few seconds. He pulled away and waited.

Adam inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, he stretched in the chair and yawned. "Luci, what are we-, when did we get to the embassy?"

"Well good morning sleeping beauty. I'll explain later. You get in there and talk to Sera."

Adam blinked, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Sera? The fuck does she want?" He got up and slowly made his way into the room. "Well if it isn't her all mighty majesity. What can I can do for ya?"

Sera relaxed and came over to Adam and fussed over him like he was a toddler. She kept asking if he was okay, if he was being tortured or abused, just a million questions being thrown at Adam.

"Chillax I'm fine Sera."

"Are you sure?"

"Scouts honor." He held up his hand in a mock salute. "Is this all you wanted? You could have just fucking face timed me."

"I just needed to see you in person." Sera smoothed out his hair. "Well alright, everything seems to be in order. I'll be scheduling another meeting soon, unrelated to this." They said their good byes and she was gone.

Adam turned to look at Lucifer. "What the fuck did I miss?"

"I'll fill you in on the way home." They walked hand in hand back to the hotel.

Adam removed the sunglasses from his face and gave the devil a questioning look. "What's with the sunglasses?"

"I'll get to that in the explanation."

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #my writing

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sadisticsongbird · 2 days

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playing god's game ~ coriolanus snow

seven

warnings: blood, talk of mental health, talk of death, idk really

word count: 3.8k

a/n: a shorter one, but bigger ones are coming. i had to adjust some timeline things for the next few chapters and im sorry this has been slow burn for pretty much all of it but im really excited for this story. its honestly been one of my favorites to write! anyways, ENJOY!

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The rest of the evening went by in a blur. It was evident both you and Coriolanus could tell that the feeling wasn’t the same the rest of the night as it was in the first few minutes. Everything was strictly professional from there on out despite the few stares that both of you pretended not to notice. After a couple hours of hammering away at some ideas, Tigris came to check on the two of you. When it was clear you weren’t even finished yet, she left and came back with a pink silk gown and robe for you. You just stared at it, unsure what to do with it. It was one of the finest materials you would ever have the opportunity to wear. When you didn’t take it from her, she thrust it into your arms and told you to follow her. Leading you to her own room, she let you in alone to change. You didn't mean to pry during, but the drawings on her walls were too alluring to ignore. Tigris was a brilliant designer. As you left her room, you made sure to tell her as much. She smiled at you, simply thanking you and telling you to get back to work.

And that’s what you spent the rest of the night doing. To the point you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the sun was pouring in through the tattered curtains in the corner office. Lifting your head up from the wooden desk, you sat up, realizing that Coriolanus was nowhere to be found. His desk was tidied up from the papers and books the two of you had scattered last night. Everything sat neatly in its original position. You knew that Coriolanus was an organized person, but he didn’t seem meticulous. Judging by the state of the rest of the apartment compared to his corner, you assumed he hated not having control over the cluttered apartment.

You rotated your head to look behind you at the rest of the apartment when you noticed something fall off your shoulders: a blanket. Coriolanus or Tigris must’ve placed it over your frame after you fell asleep. Your cheeks heated up, in embarrassment or simply because you were thankful, you hadn’t a clue. Honestly, you didn’t know when you fell asleep last night. You don’t remember closing out a conversation, but you don’t remember feeling tired either. Regardless, it felt awkward to be alone in the Snows’ apartment. You stood up from your spot, draping the fallen blanket over the back of it. You felt bad snooping, but you badly wanted Tigris or Coriolanus to appear. There didn’t seem to be any noise coming from the apartment and the curtain to the room opposite to Coriolanus's office was closed. You figured that was where their grandmother stayed, but you didn’t want to pry. Thankfully, right on cue, the front door opened, revealing a colorful Tigris. She was like a drop of sunshine to an otherwise gloomy home.

“Y/N! Hey, I figured you would be up soon. Is Coryo still here?”

“Huh?” You were still waking up. “Oh, uhm, no. I think he left. I mean, he could be here. He wasn’t in the office when I woke up.”

“He probably left to bring your proposal to Gaul already.” You had forgotten about turning in the proposal. You know you didn’t put your name on it, so you hoped that Coriolanus would give you some credit. After yesterday’s events in the classroom, you weren’t sure. “Do you want some?” Tigris asked.

“What?” you asked, unsure how long you had zoned out. Looking towards her, you saw that she had some packaged breakfast cakes, ones similar to the ones that Ma made. “Yeah, sure.”

Tigris smiled at you, happy that you agreed. “I wanted to go out and get some real breakfast for you. We…we don’t have much here.” She paused for a moment. “Don’t tell Coriolanus I told you this. He…well, just don’t.” She stopped again after speaking that hushed tone. “Anyways, your uniform is laying in my room on the small sofa if you want to go get changed.”

She turned around when you walked away towards her room. I didn’t take long to get dressed back into your uniform and jacket. Folding the gown she let you borrow, you made sure to assure its good condition before laying it on her bed.

Walking back into the main area, you could smell the warmed cakes and you didn’t seem to be the only one. Grandma’am’s curtain opened the same time you stepped out of Tigris’s room. You felt bad that you were still ‘invading’ their home when Coriolanus was no longer even here. She seemed standoffish toward you already last night, but you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Good morning,” you said shyly.

She didn’t reply for a moment, looking you up and down in the same outfit she last saw you in last night. Compared to her attire, you looked homeless. “Good morning,” she said, not disgusted but obviously not happy with your presence.

“Grandma’am!” Tigris said, interrupting the awkward moment. The old lady smiled at the entrance of her granddaughter. “I got some treats for our guest. Sit and I’ll get you some too,” she said, leading the woman over to the open space on the table. “Y/N, sit. I’ll be right back.”

When she left, the two of you sat down next to one another in what you anticipated to be silence. “I’ve never met any of Coriolanus’s friends.”

“Oh?” you asked, for two reasons. One, you couldn’t believe that Coriolanus didn’t let any of his other friends meet his family when it was almost normal for esteemed Capitol citizens to know everyone and their families. Two, that Coriolanus could consider you a friend.

“I blame myself. He’s very protective of us and our home. Sometimes maybe too much.”

Tigris reappeared, setting the plate of cakes down in front of the two of you and turning the TV on in the corner of the room.

“Just yesterday, one of the tributes brutally murdered one of our own Capitol children. Arachne Crane, daughter of Idmon and Lucia Crane, sister to Phalanx Crane, was dearly loved and cherished by her family, friends, and classmates.” You knew that the zoo was being broadcast, but you thought they’d get rid of the footage from yesterday. Your assumptions were proved wrong when clips of Arachne’s death played over and over again from different angles. It was almost strategic how they continued to replay it, but it made you shutter and look away from the screen. Not before you saw a glimpse of Coriolanus run over to her fallen form, though. “She will be honored for her contributions to the Hunger Games this year per Volumnia Gaul’s request and remembered by friends and family at a funeral service held this evening in front of the Academy.”

Tigris shut off the television as soon as it was turned on. Unbeknownst to you, they continued to play the footage, which means only moments after you looked away your figure appeared onto the screen, running to Coriolanus’s aid and dodging the bullets sprayed in your direction. The feed cut the moment the tribute from 10, Arachne’s tribute and murderer, was shot down.

“Y/N, I had no idea. Coriolanus didn’t-” She cut herself off.

You had stopped eating at this point, keeping your focus down on your fidgety, sweaty hands. You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, making you look up. Grandma’am had also stopped eating, focusing her attention on you. “Thank you. For protecting him.”

You gave her a weak smile before glancing towards Tigris. She looked stunned to say the least. You didn’t want sympathy from them when there were others who needed it. “Thank you, Tigris. For the breakfast. For everything. I should really get going, though. To class.”

“Will they still have it?” she asked, watching you stand up, leaving your breakfast practically untouched.

“I doubt Gaul will put a pause to the Games. If anything, Arachne’s death will make her want it to come sooner,” you said. As much as you hated it, you knew that things would be much harder on the tributes now, and in turn, much harder for you.

“Okay,” she sighed. “At least let me walk with you. I should get to work anyways.”

“Sure,” you shrugged. You moved out of the way as Tigris cleaned up your unfinished food when you remembered that your bag was still in Coriolanus’s office. Moving over there, you found your bag up against the desk, latch closed with all of your books inside. Coriolanus must’ve tidied up your things as well last night. Leaning over to pick it up, you noticed a floorboard below the desk that seemed to be out of place. You wondered if it was loose, but when you were able to lift it from the ground, you realized it was on purpose. There were a few things in the hollowed out floor: a piece of orange fabric, a compass, a notebook. You wanted to reach your hand in to dig out the contents, but you heard someone coming up behind you. Placing the piece of wood back down, you stood up quickly, bag in hand.

“Ready?” Tigris asked from behind you.

“Yeah,” you sighed. She smiled before walking back over to Grandma’am, placing a kiss on her head and saying goodbye before meeting you at the door.

The moment the door was closed, you asked Tigris if you could stop by your house on the way to grab a change of clothes. She agreed, telling you she would wait outside while you ran in. You felt bad for that. You had been in her home for hours, practically barging in, and she volunteered to stay outside of your home while you only grabbed a change of uniform. You would hurry as much as you could, not wanting her to wait alone long. That idea was forgotten though when you opened your door to your mother on the floor.

“Mama!” you screamed, throwing your bag on the floor and rushing over to your mother who was lying in front of a broken glass plate and crumbs of desserts. “Fuck!”

The television had been turned on in the living room, news feed cutting in and out, the same one you had been watching shortly before in the Snows’ home. The news of Arachne’s death was still playing and it made you wonder how long they had been broadcasting the event since it happened. Tending to your mother, you tried to roll her over and away from all the broken glass, but it seemed to not matter. Glancing at her hands, you noticed the scratches, blood, and shards all over them.

How could you have been so stupid to forget about your mother? You were too caught up trying to play star pupil that you forgot about her. You wondered if the stains on the floor were from her hands and why they continued to multiply, but when you felt hands on your shoulders, you realized they were your tears.

“Y/N? What happened?” Tigirs worriedly asked, helping you help your mother.

“S-she…I don’t know,” you cried. “I forgot, I left, I’m so fucking stupid. She can’t be left alone.” You were practically sobbing as the two of you rolled your unconscious mother over. “Is she dead?” you asked, trying to find a pulse with your shaky hands. Tigris gripped your hand and pulled it out of the way to replace it with hers.

“She is, Y/N, she is. But you have to help me get her up.”

You shook yourself out of your emotions to deal with your mother. Tigris helped you lift her up to place her on the couch. The moment that she was above the ground, something in her seemed to flip a switch. She began to flail, making it harder for both you and Tigris to carry her.

“Elspet! Elsie! Elsie Sage!” she called. “ELSPET!”

You readjusted your grip under her arms, trying to get her to calm down enough to get her safely to the couch. “Mama! Mama, you need to calm down!”

“Elsie! Elsie, please!”

“Who’s Elspet?” Tigris asked.

“I don’t know.” Truthfully, you didn’t. Your father was normally the only person she called out for. “Mama, please! Quiet! I know you’re hurt, but you need to let us help.”

Your mother began to settle down little by little, at least enough to be able to put her down.

“She’s here, Y/N/N. I saw her.”

“Sure, Mama. Can you please let me clean your hands?”

She looked between you and Tigris, seeming to understand what was happening now. Shaking her head, you let go of her, asking Tigris to stay with her while you went to get a wet rag and tweezers from the bathroom. When you came back, the television had been turned off and Tigris sat next to your mother, observing the injuries on her hands.

“Thank you,” you told her. She didn’t respond, only smiling and continuing to take care of your mother.

“Can I take the pieces out of this hand?” she gently asked your mother.

She responded to Tigris with a nervous shake of her head, making you hand the materials you gathered to Tigris. You felt bad just watching your mother get taken care of so you moved over to the broken plate of goodies on the floor. Well, you couldn’t return this plate of goodies to Ma now. You were sure she wouldn’t care anyways, but you still felt horrible.

Grabbing the straw broom beside your kitchen wall, you began to sweep up the shards and crumbs into a pile easy to throw away. A substantial amount of dust gathered with it and you suddenly felt conscious about your home and who was in it. You were sure this was just how Tigris, Coriolanus, and their grandmother felt when you just showed up unannounced. They were unprepared for a visit, probably not even desiring one. You hated assuming things about people, especially one who was sitting here taking care of your mother and one that seemed to be one of the prestigious people you had ever gone to Academy with. But just like you, they deceived people about their true lives. While you were worse off than the Snows, it made you feel more comfortable knowing that Tigris understood what it was like to live this kind of life.

Gathering the rest of the pile, you made sure to kneel down and look under the table and the back of the couch that your mother and Tigris were on. You wanted to make sure that your mother couldn’t be hurt by even a chunk of stray glass. Your eyes scoured the area, looking for things to sweep up when you noticed a slip of paper, or what looked like one, underneath the corner of the seat. Picking it up, you realized it was a torn, folded photograph. Unfolding the ridged piece of film, you discovered a photo of a young, teenage girl wearing a popping, floral corset and white skirt. Her arm looked like it was around someone else, but the other figure in the photograph was the missing half.

“Do you have something to wrap her hand with?”

You stood up, shoving the photograph in your jacket pocket. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Scurrying away, you left the mess to find gauze or wrap or something in your bathroom to use. When you came up empty, you grabbed a loose shirt on the floor and tore the bottom off.

“Will this do?” you asked, walking back into the living area.

“Yeah,” Tigris responded, turning back to your mother who remained unmoved. She was almost like a statue but contrasted to how she looked when she was sleeping. Her skin was pale despite the little blood loss from the cuts and the creases on her forehead seemed to be more intense. You sat down on your small coffee table across from your mother and handed Tigris the scraps of fabric.

“Mama? Is this yours?” you asked, holding up the ripped photo so she could see it.

Her eyes connected with the photo then went to yours, almost as if she wanted to know if you knew the answer to a question she had not yet asked.

“Her,” your mom said, pointing to the picture weakly with the hand Tigris wasn’t occupied with. “She left.”

“Who left, mama? Who is this?”

“Where is she? This… Elsie? Elsie?! Elspet, please!” she began to cry again, her hand shaking as she touched the girl's face lightly with her fingertip.

“Mama, is this Elspet?” You didn’t realize you were getting angry, your tone raising until Tigris spoke up.

“Y/N, maybe it’s better to let her rest.”

You looked at the blonde girl, not anger in your eyes, but pleading with her to let you get some answers. Because you were frustrated. You were upset. You were angry. But you knew that she was right. If your mother couldn’t give you answers now, she maybe could after she had time to rest. Helping Tigris lift your mother from the couch, you guided her to her room down the hall. Tigris stood outside the door while you tucked your mother into bed, placing a kiss on her forehead, and whispered a small ‘sorry.’ When you closed the door behind you, you let your head fall back onto the door.

“I’m sorry you had to meet her like that,” you whispered, knowing Tigris wasn’t far and watching you.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “I’m happy to help.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Shit, I left her here, Tigris. I knew she couldn't be here by herself and I left her here.”

“Don't blame yourself. You had no idea this would’ve-”

“But that's the thing. I did know. I knew that she's been a danger to herself for a long time. The only reason she's still alive right now is cause I can't bear to leave her in a goddamn facility. Every time I think it gets bad enough here, I feel guilty for thinking that way because I don't want to have to imagine what they'll do to her there,” you cried.

Tigris stayed silent. Honestly, it was because she didn't know what she should say. “So this isn't the first time?”

“I wish. It's just about every night she wakes up screaming, calling for my father.”

“Your father was a general, right? Stationed in the districts?”

“Yeah. In 12. He started his training there, but had to come home and start a family with my mother. He was deployed again during the war, but he never came back. Mama never told me what truly happened, but I always assumed he was killed by rebels.”

“Coryo’s father was also stationed in 12. Died there too. I wonder if my uncle knew your father.”

You simply shrugged. Had your father and Coriolanus’s father known each other, would you and him have been friends? Would your families have been friends? Tigris was quickly growing on you and you would have liked to have been a part of her life long ago.

“Where did you find the picture?” Tigris asked.

“Under the couch,” you said. “I assume she must have ripped it and the other half got lost in the ruckus.”

You moved past Tigris to go back to the area. Perhaps you could find the other half. Regardless, it was still a mystery who the girl was in the half of the picture you had. You hadn't got a good look at it, but you would have to do that once Tigris left. You were sure she was going to be late for work by now.

“I can look for it. I should probably stay home with my mother, anyway.”

“Will you be at the funeral this evening?”

“I'm not sure. Arachne and I weren't really friends. I'm sure the rest of the mentors will be there, though.”

“Coriolanus will probably go…not that it makes a difference for you. I should go. Pay her family respects. Either way, I need to get going. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I hope your mother feels better.”

“It was nice to meet you, too,” you expressed. “And thank you, really. For everything today.”

“Of course,” she said, walking over to your door. “And I hope Coryo brings you by again soon,” she teased.

You gave her a small smile before wishing her goodbye. The moment the door closed behind her, you took the half-photo back out of your pocket. The young girl in the picture was kind of blurry, but the more that you stared at the figure, the more you realized the resemblance that she bore to your mother. Could this have been your mother when she was younger? You didn’t know why she would have worn a dress of that sort or how she would have even found a forest. From what you had learned in history classes, the old Capitol was essentially a city, just a lot less structured. People own their own little houses, mini-mansions of the sort. Some were placed close together and others were more spread out, closer to the countryside. But it was always city-like, never forest-like.

You really needed to find the other side of the tattered photo. It probably had something written on the back of it, much like your old family portraits did. It was never seen because of their framing, but your mother always liked to keep things orderly so she could remember them when she grew older. You set the photo on the table, crouching down again to see if you could find the other half of the photo. Looking under the couch, you came up empty handed, same with the table. You thought you could have accidentally swept it up, but nothing was there either. You were just about ready to give up when you saw something peek out from under the television. Walking towards it, you began to get excited as it looked ripped on the side, much like the one in your pocket. There was some writing on the backside, as you predicted. Confirming your suspicions, in your mother’s handwriting, it read ‘Guinevere & Elspet (Gwen & Elsie).’

Gwen was your mother’s name, although you didn’t know that it was short for Guinevere. And Elspet, or Elsie, was the person your mother was calling for. Flipping the photo over to see the other half, you nearly froze. It wasn’t possible. There was no fucking way. Sticking the two halves together, just to be sure this was truly the other half, your breath hitched. Your mother’s arm was around another girl. One who was wearing the same dress that Lucy Gray arrived to the Capitol in.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth angst #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth smut #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you

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