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teenytinyjimin · 17 days

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i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts fic #angst #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jk angst #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #fanfic #jk fanfic

786 notes · View notes

kaiser1ns · 4 months

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𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: they are hopelessly in love with you, the excitement, the passion and how they want to make their feelings known.

╹contents :: sfw ,fem!reader, based on exo's song "growl", manager y/n in one scenario, beware of whipped (overprotective) egoists, tried to include as many characters as possible

╹notes :: it's my first time doing something like this with song lyrics, i hope i did it well! i honestly didn't know where to put eita whomp whomp, sorry for any grammar mistakes or mischaracterizations.

❝I’m warning you just in case, listen carefully It’s getting dangerous now, so dangerous Stop provoking me, there'll be big trouble I don’t even know what I'll do❞

The after party of the FIFA Awards started to get exhausting, boring even, talking to people left and right, getting more brand deals, you know the usual for a football superstar, he just wanted to enjoy the night drinking and having fun with you. But you are nowhere to be seen to his own dismay, where the heck did you go, it's not like he doesn't trust you - he doesn't trust the ones around you. He craned his neck, scanning the crowded venue in search of your familiar presence, and finally found you, ah you are so beautiful, so mesmerizing, he couldn't take his eyes off you, but you seemed to talk to someone ... let's say he doesn't like at all. He will make sure when playing against his team to score a hat-trick, no a double hat-trick. He felt this gut-wrenching feeling inside his stomach, his heart tightened at the site - his angel next to some random bug. Quickening his pace, he found himself behind you, looking at the man in front of you with utter hatred, realizing who he was dealing with he apologized to you and left. Wrapping his arms around you, securing and claiming you as his once again, whispering in your ear to stop doing these things to him, because he won't be as calm the next time he sees someone who doesn't deserve to be next to you.

Oliver Aiku, Shidou Ryusei, Karasu Tabito, Sheoi Barou, Raichi Jingo, Lavinho

❝My breath keeps stopping, you are walking toward me You are smiling at me, are you attracted to me too? My eyes become cloudy when you stare at me Your breath gets closer to my ears, you’re the one that makes me go crazy❞

Run, receive pass, score - repeat. He was trying to do that the whole practice, but he can't focus when you are here, distracting him. He will pass out not from overwork, but from the fact that his heart will burst at any moment if you keep looking at him with those sparkly e/c eyes, oh, and your smile - you were the motivation that pushed him to give his best on the field and the reason he forgets how to speak, how to think properly, how to function at all. As you approach him with that concerned smile,with your perfect cute looking face, noticing the sweat on his forehead you, reaching out your hand to check if he has temperature because he was burning and you ask him if he is okay, NO HE IS NOT OKAY, your gaze meeting his and like a daydream, his vision begins to get cloudy — he stares into your eyes, and so do you in his. The world around you blurred as your presence dominated his senses. Was it possible that you too, felt the magnetic pull drawing you and him together?

Isagi Yoichi, Yo Hiori, Nanase Nijiro, Julien Loki, Kurona Ranze, Niko Ikki, Alexis Ness

❝So no-one can see you, I want to hide you in my arms (I’m so serious) All of the stares that want you , whirls up in me a harsh storm❞

He just wanted to have one normal date with you, but of course the paparazzi have to nudge in, all the unwanted stares, camera lights, and the million photos that are probably going to be on every social media tomorrow with the most stupid title. Sometimes he hates the fact that he is famous, everything has it's perks, but right now he wishes for nothing more but to be a normal person with a normal office job. He wanted to hide, and most importantly to hide you from the press. Your relationship is not a secret, but you want to keep it private as much as possible. Without thinking, he gripped your hand tighter and quickened his walking pace, well you were practically running - away from this chaos. As the cacophony of camera clicks faded into the distance, you found solace in the quiet corner of the alley. Panting, without breath, his eyes met yours, and you let a little laugh, what's so funny about people invading your privacy?, but if it meant seeing you with such an adoring smile, he would run the whole world just for that.

Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Nagi Seishiro, Yukimiya Kenyu, Noel Noa, Leonardo Luna

❝My eyes get sharper, and the tension feels like it could cut I’m searching around your surroundings, baby You just stay as you are and look at only me I’ll never let you go, just watch, baby❞

Scoring the last-minute winning goal he screamed from the adrenaline, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building throughout the game. The roaring crowd, the teammates' admiration, and the coach's praises all faded into the background, he felt the weight of the stadium disappear as he locked eyes with you from the VIP seats. His heart pounded with the residual rush of adrenaline, and a triumphant smile spread across his face. Your gaze held his, and in that intimate moment, the world outside ceased to exist. For him, every goal, every achievement, was dedicated to you. As the cheers continued around him, he knew that your 'I'm proud of you' meant more than any other praise. In that shared gaze, amidst the triumph, it was one of the biggest victories for him - you were more important than any medal, trophy, or Ballon d'Or. He smiled once again at you, nodding to the inside of the stadium, signaling you to wait there. And you did, understanding that there were moments beyond the public celebration, where the bond between you two was more profound than the thrill of victory itself - and to his luck he got the best reward, a loving kiss on the lips from his one and only.

Michael Kaiser, Mikage Reo, Chigiri Hyoma, Otoya Eita, Bachira Meguru, Kunigami Rensuke

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

Text

Maybe You Were The Ocean

Summary: Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life.

Word count: 6.3k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Character Death, Bittersweet ending

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by @gingiesworld:

Y/N and Wanda have been together for a while and Pietro calls Y/N one night, needing a lift home from a friends party. On that night they get hit by another drunk driver and Pietro dies on impact. As time goes on and the other driver is arrested, y/n still blames themselves for Pietro's death. Even though Wanda continuously tries to tell them otherwise but they won't listen. They then yell at her "why don't you blame me? You should hate me for your brother dying." Before walking out. Can be either a happy or sad ending buddy. Whichever you decide

Author's note: I changed some minor details in the request, hope you don't mind Gingie. Thank you for this gut-wrenching monster, it allowed me to practice writing in past tense (so out of my comfort zone lol). Title is from "black flies" by ben howard, listen to that as well when you read ;)

Masterlist

Now

You haven't been to something like this in what seems like ages.

That something being a wedding.

And if you were to keep count, you'd realize you've been to more funerals than weddings in your lifetime so far.

Your best friend looks like a goddess in her white dress—and anyone with eyes can see that the groom is the luckiest man on earth.

You’re fixing your hair in front of the mirror when she approaches, wearing a smile that you’ve never seen on her, a smile you’d never be able to put on her lips yourself. It’s a smile reserved for him—that lucky bastard.

She gently taps on your shoulder. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep looking so stunning,” she teases, her voice light with laughter.

You chuckle, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “It's your day, and nothing can overshadow how beautiful you look.”

“Promise me something,” she says suddenly, her bright eyes locking onto yours.

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Promise me that you won’t stop looking for this kind of happiness. Promise me you'll find someone who puts that same smile on your face,” she whispers.

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere between heartache and hope. “I promise.”

Then

You were eight years old when you moved to a new neighborhood.

At that age, it felt like the scariest thing that had ever happened to you. Your parents divorced, your mother got full custody, and once the judge made that call, she packed up everything familiar and moved you to a new state: New Jersey.

It was what she could manage back then. This place was nothing like the spacious suburbs you remembered, and your new apartment building seemed no bigger than your old living room back in California. The place had just one bedroom, and it was hard to tell where the dining area stopped and the kitchen started.

You resented her in the way a child might, not fully grasping responsibility or consequences. You were upset she took you away from your friends and the comfort of your old life. You didn’t see back then the bruises hidden beneath her shirt, the ones your father left. You only learned about them when you turned eighteen. By then, your resentment had faded long ago.

A week after moving into that aged building, you encountered the twins next door, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Initially, you met Pietro when his mother sent him over with some food to welcome you and your mom to the neighborhood. It wasn't until you and Pietro became inseparable friends, spending every possible moment together, that you met Wanda.

When you did meet her, you weren't fond of her. She seemed aloof and mostly kept to herself. Unlike her expressive brother, Wanda seldom voiced her thoughts, making conversations with her feel uninspiring.

You and Pietro often clashed with Wanda over the television. You both wanted to play video games while Wanda preferred her sitcoms. Pietro would let Wanda watch her shows briefly before forcefully switching channels just to annoy her. Eventually, Wanda would retreat to her room in tears, and Pietro would steel himself for a reprimand when their mother returned home.

You would give Wanda a piece of chocolate because you felt bad, but you never asked Pietro to stop, fearing he might stop being your best friend. In return, Wanda would lend you her pocketbooks you’d never quite finish.

You hadn't realized it back then, but that dynamic would continue well into your teen years. With Pietro stirring up trouble left and right, you being caught in the middle, and Wanda, from a distance, observing you with cautious interest—perhaps wishing it had been her who brought the welcoming food instead of her brother.

Now

The wedding isn’t going to start for another hour. There have been delays due to the weather.

With the archways and open corridors adorned with blooming flowers and drapes, the venue looks nothing short of magical, even with the looming clouds. From where you stand, you extend your arm, letting the light drizzle kiss your skin. Each droplet feels like nature's way of playing with the day's emotions—adding both melancholy and charm.

Someone nearby remarks, “You know it's considered good luck when it rains on one's wedding day.”

You merely smile politely in response.

“Are you a friend of the bride’s or the groom's?”

“The bride,” you reply.

“Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can convince her to finally see she’s way out of his league!”

You shake your head at the joke. It’s not even the first time you've heard it today.

Then

It wasn't until you were fifteen and Pietro, seventeen, that the troubles you found yourselves in became more serious.

It had also been a few months since Pietro introduced you to drugs other than weed. At first, it was just an occasional joint passed around at a party or behind the school building. But Pietro wanted to try riskier substances. You weren't as keen but didn't want to be left behind by your best friend.

One evening, after trying something a bit harder than usual, you and Pietro were wandering the streets, laughing way too loud. In his intoxicated state, Pietro suddenly swung at a parked car with his bat, smashing it. Almost immediately, patrol lights shone bright, and stern police voices could be heard from almost everywhere. Pietro got cornered, but sheer panic made you bolt. Ditching your best friend felt terrible, but the terrifying thought of jail—especially knowing the mess it'd be for your already stretched-thin mom—made you keep running.

Still shaken, you made your way to Pietro's apartment, knowing you had to be the one to tell his mother. Her reaction was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. She demanded you stay with Wanda while she went to confront the nightmare at the police station.

“I think I'll just head home,” you murmured to Wanda, not wanting to impose any further.

She glanced at you, her eyes searching. “Have you had dinner?”

You hesitated, then lied. “Yeah, I ate earlier.” The truth was your mom had been away for work for three days, and the fridge was almost bare.

The small home you came to know felt overwhelmingly spacious as you sat alone, burdened by the guilt of having left your best friend behind. But mere minutes after sinking into your worn-out couch, a knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Wanda, a bowl of steaming paprikash in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Your face lit up in relief at the sight of the food, more grateful than you could express. Just as you were about to thank her, your stomach betrayed you with an embarrassingly loud growl. Wanda let out a genuine laugh, and for a brief moment, you felt like a burden had been lifted.

“Guess I was right,” she teased, handing you the bowl.

As you eagerly began eating, Wanda settled opposite you, her expression growing serious again. “What were you two even thinking tonight?” she asked softly.

Swallowing, you sighed, “I tried to stop him, Wanda. But I couldn't talk him out of it.”

Wanda looked down, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch. “I don't blame you,” she finally said, her voice gentle, “I never do. In fact, I sometimes wonder how much worse he might've been without you around.”

A moment of silence hung between the two of you before Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you, “I'm so worried about next year.”

Curiously, you looked up from your food, "What do you mean?"

“Pietro's turning eighteen. He was supposed to get a baseball scholarship, but with this run in with the police, that’s probably hanging in the balance now…” she trailed off.

Your heart sank. You had known Pietro had big dreams tied to that scholarship, dreams that now seemed to be teetering on the brink. "And what about you, Wanda? What's your plan?"

Wanda took a deep breath, and her face lit up slightly, “I got accepted into Columbia. It's amazing, really. But…” She sighed, looking down, “Even with the scholarship they offered, I can't afford it. Plus, with everything going on, I think I need to be here, help Mom out, you know?”

“That's tough,” you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness for the bright future she might be putting on hold.

She nodded, “I'm thinking of starting work and maybe attending community college for a bit. It's not Columbia, but it's something.”

“That's... that's just unfair,” you whispered, setting down your bowl, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “If there's anyone who deserves to be at Columbia, Wanda, it's you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes filled with something you didn’t recognize.

“I wish things were different,” you continued. “I've always thought of you as one of the most intelligent people I know. And not just smart, but kind... genuinely kind.”

She took in your words, the distance between you two closing slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a flash of resolve, she inched closer. “There's something I want to do,” she began, her voice a whisper. “Something I've wanted for a long time, but it never seemed right. I don't think there'll be another perfect moment, another chance. Not after tonight.”

Before you could process her words, she was leaning in, the space between you disappearing. Your eyelids dropped, and for a heartbeat, everything else melted away as her lips met yours.

For the longest time, nothing made sense to you. That was, until Wanda Maximoff kissed you.

Now

Your best friend's walk down the aisle feels like the longest part of the ceremony–at least to you. The sight is so magical that time seems to stand still. When you snap back to reality, the priest is asking if there's anyone in the crowd who wishes to object to the marriage.

Nobody breaks the silence which lasts a mere two seconds. It's a rarity these days for anyone to object. They only happen now in movies. Modern weddings are more intimate, almost closed-door affairs. The guest list is meticulously curated, ensuring anyone with a complex history with the bride or groom remains absent.

You watch the ceremony unfold, every word, every shared glance, making you feel more trapped by the promise you made earlier. You'd promised to chase that very kind of happiness, the kind that was unfolding right in front of you. Yet as you watch, there's this nagging feeling at the back of your mind, asking if you ever really will.

What they have feels like a world apart from where you're seated.

You try to be genuinely happy for your best friend, and on many levels, you are. But you–you’re the last person to believe you deserve even a fraction of such a miracle.

Then

The kiss, as Wanda had promised, never happened again.

At least not for the duration they remained neighbors. Soon after, she and Pietro moved to another town for their studies. As for you, you and your mother also moved shortly after their departure, to a nicer neighborhood that’s closer to Manhattan where you also transferred schools.

For five years, you didn't see either of them. No calls. Nothing on social media. But that didn't stop them from occasionally drifting into your thoughts. Especially that memory of your first kiss.

That was until one night, while dining alone in a midscale Soho restaurant, you looked up to find Wanda as your server.

She wore a simple black uniform that most servers donned, but she carried it with an elegance that made her stand out. For a moment, you thought she didn't recognize you, as she professionally presented the menu and described the evening's specials without missing a beat. But then, as she was turning to leave your table, she paused and looked directly into your eyes.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her voice becoming more familiar as she shed her professional facade.

You nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah, it really has. I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. I... well, I needed a job while I finish my degree.”

You both chatted briefly, catching up on lost time, but Wanda was called away to attend to other patrons. As she bustled about, you found it difficult to focus on your meal, your gaze repeatedly drawn to her fluid movements around the room. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and she'd offer a fleeting smile, a touch of color rising to her cheeks.

After a while, you signaled for the check. Wanda was quick to bring it over, her fingers brushing against yours as she handed it to you.

“How's Pietro?” you asked tentatively.

Wanda hesitated, her eyes betraying her composure. “He was released from prison about a month ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “It was tough, but he's doing better now. Trying to change, you know? And he... he misses you.”

Baseball never happened for him. College too. You wished you hadn’t lost your connection together. Perhaps you could have made a difference.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured. “Life just... took over.”

Wanda nodded with understanding, but remained silent.

As you prepared to leave, Wanda slipped a note along with your bill. It read, “It was good to see you again. Maybe we shouldn't wait another five years?”

Beneath these words, Wanda had also written down her phone number.

You waited a total of three days to call Wanda.

Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been with other women since she stole your first kiss, but she remained a persistent afterthought in every relationship of yours that ended.

It didn't help that you'd left a bookmark in her chapter, aware that revisiting it had the potential to alter the trajectory of everything.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would recognize your voice after all these years, “From the restaurant, the other night?”

There was a brief pause, then her tone softened, “I hoped you'd call.”

You were grinning so hard that it didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t responded to her in a while when she gently teased, “Took you long enough.”

“Three days isn’t that long,” you defended with a slight chuckle.

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, no. But in the context of us? It felt like an eternity,” she admitted.

And it truly felt that way. Finding Wanda over the past several years hadn't been impossible or even especially hard. Yet, both of you had consciously let things drift. You had navigated through college, and Wanda, well, she'd been engaged in whatever endeavors she had pursued.

But that night, it felt right to call her. And you hadn’t realized you were waiting to find her again.

You and Wanda scheduled to meet some time during the week and the conversation should’ve ended there. But neither of you wanted to hang up, and Wanda quickly asked about your college experience and the new neighborhood you'd settled into after their departure. By the time you both ended the call, nearly two hours had passed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was evident; the bookmark you'd placed hadn't lost its page and it was easy to ease once more into its pages.

Now

The sun has set when the newly-wedded couple finally arrives at the reception.

You're seated at a table filled with strangers, but your best friend made sure to place you next to a woman she's been raving about—one she's suggested more than once you should date.

Her name is Natasha and she’s gorgeous beyond words. She's so striking that you find yourself wondering if she's even your type. Typically, you've steered clear of people who seem universally more attractive than you, a defense mechanism to sidestep lingering insecurities from over the years.

But as she leans into your personal space, you can’t help but respond to every question and laugh at every joke she throws your way.

Maybe it’s safe to let yourself enjoy this, even just for tonight.

Then

It was scarcely two weeks since that encounter with Wanda at the restaurant, and there you were, in her bed.

It was cramped and the air conditioning kept failing many times during the day.

But you didn’t care.

You had known this woman for almost your entire life, and you'd waited just as long to be in her bed like this: with your arm growing numb under her weight, her head resting on your chest, and your nose buried in her hair.

She stirred slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Did you ever think...?” she began, voice hesitant.

“Think what?” you prompted, adjusting slightly so you could see her face.

“That we'd end up here, like this?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled, thinking back. “I don't know if I let myself think about it. But I hoped.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I had a feeling you'd say that.”

The sheets beneath you were thin and had seen better days, but it didn't matter. The world outside, with its faint hum of city life, seemed so far away. Yet, the world outside seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was the rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours and the warmth of her body next to you.

Every so often, she'd shift, mumbling half-formed sentences that would make you chuckle.

“Is the penguin wearing a bowtie?” she murmured in her half-asleep state.

You laughed softly. “What penguin?”

“The one in my dream,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you. “He's quite the gentleman.”

“Sounds like a classy penguin,” you teased.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “He reminds me of you, in a way.”

“Oh? So, I'm a penguin now?” you quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“In the best way,” she whispered, pulling you closer. “My dapper penguin.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only you would dream of something like that.”

“And only you,” she murmured, lips against your chest, “Would be there in that dream with me.”

While Wanda seamlessly reintegrated into your life, with Pietro, however, things weren't as straightforward. His past, speckled with run-ins with the law and a battle against addiction, made you and Wanda wary of him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You could tell he was on the mend though, especially when six months into your relationship with Wanda, Pietro was able to hold a job for that same duration. Yet, his living situation with Wanda was far from ideal. Their apartment was snug, to say the least. His room was barely big enough to fit his bed.

You wished you could help, but with college expenses looming over you, your hands were tied. The thought of asking Wanda to move in with you played on your mind constantly. It seemed like the ideal solution: she would have a more stable environment, and Pietro could fully occupy the apartment, giving him some semblance of independence.

“What do you think about moving in with me? I know it's soon, but…” you asked her one night in the quiet confines of your dorm room.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to live here with you,” Wanda said, a bit amused at your suggestion.

“I didn’t mean here,” you replied. “I meant finding an apartment for the two of us.”

“That’s just adding more expenses, Y/N. I can’t let you do that when you can stay here without any costs,” Wanda countered.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It's not about the money, Wands. It's about... us. Having a place of our own. And it would also give Pietro the whole apartment.”

Wanda's eyes met yours, searching for a hidden meaning. “Are you saying that because of Pietro? You think he's a burden?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it's not that. I just... I see how much you worry about him.”

Your fingers found hers, lacing together as you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I get it,” you began, exhaling softly, “But I thought about Pietro too. He’d have the apartment all to himself. More space, more independence.”

Wanda's eyebrows knit together in concern. “And what if he…” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “Relapses or needs me?”

You tightened your grip around her hand. “We wouldn't be too far, Wanda. And maybe giving him that space and trust will help him more than you think.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you're thinking of what's best for all of us, but Pietro's situation has always been so... fragile.”

Wanda looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. “I'll think about it,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me,” Wanda said, her eyes hardening, like she’s on the verge of tears or something worse. “Promise you’ll be with me always.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

Now

“It’s not everyday you find the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.”

Short and sweet, but that's your whole speech, cliches and all.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” you start, nodding towards the newlyweds with a smirk. “But hey, miracles happen.” You raise your champagne glass. “To two people who finally figured it out. Cheers.”

Your best friend laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately at you. “Trust you to keep things real,” she murmurs, clinking her glass with yours.

And that’s when you see her, amongst the cheering crowds.

In the middle of all the people, she stands out. Always has. It doesn't matter where or when, you can always spot her. Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does. It's like everyone else fades a bit, and she's the only one in focus.

Wanda Maximoff.

Pristine in a scarlet trumpet gown, her hair pulled into a tight, strict bun. A few stray tendrils of hair have escaped the bun, framing her face in a way that gives her an almost ethereal quality.

As you take a moment to really look at her, you notice the fine details. The way the light catches the small diamond earrings she wears, making them shimmer just so. The delicate curve of her collarbone, revealed by the gown's off-the-shoulder design. And her eyes—always her captivating eyes–that hold an entire galaxy, scanning the room until they land on you.

The shock in her eyes mirrors yours, and for a moment, everything else blurs. Your legs wobble, threatening to give way beneath you. The room's atmosphere grows thick, or perhaps you're just struggling to catch your breath.

Beside you, the bride and your best friend, Maria, notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to its source.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You manage a shaky head shake in response, pushing through the crowd to escape the room. But you can hear Maria, not too far behind, calling after you.

Then

“So, Maria,” Wanda began once your friend had left and it was just the two of you in the cafe. You had been so keen for the two of them to meet. But with Maria spending a whole semester in Germany as an exchange student, their only prior meeting had been a brief video call that interrupted one of your dates with Wanda.

“How did you two get so close?”

“Did I never tell you about that?”

Wanda shook her head, taking a sip from her now lukewarm cappuccino.

“Freshman year. We were looking for this book and it only had one copy in the school library, and believe it or not, we reached for it at the same time,” you recounted with a wistful smile.

Wanda's face shifted ever so slightly, a change you didn't quite catch.

“We both really needed it badly, so we promised to take turns using it, and we ended up studying together for weeks.”

“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Wanda mused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“It kind of felt like that,” you admitted, laughing softly. “From bickering about who would get the book on Mondays to sharing our notes and coffee breaks. Before we knew it, we were inseparable.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes flitting restlessly around you.

“What is it?”

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing.”

You frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to see past her facade. “Wands, come on,” you coaxed. “Talk to me.”

She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “It's just... it's hard sometimes, hearing about these memories you shared with someone else, when I wish I had been there with you.”

“Wanda,” you began gently, “There are moments in your past that I wasn't a part of. But what matters is now. Right here, with you.”

She sighed, her posture deflating a little. “I know. It's silly, isn't it? To be jealous of a close friend of yours.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then it's valid, no matter how silly you think it might be,” you assured her.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Growing up, our worlds were confined to that same apartment building. The people, the routines, everything was predictable. And now... being out in the world, seeing you connect with others, it's just... intimidating. And, honestly, a little scary.”

You paused, smirking a bit. “You know,” you began, but Wanda cut in, “What?”

“It's just...Do you even know how happy you make me?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

She looked like she was about to say something, but you quickly added, “Seriously, Wands.”

Wanda blinked, clearly taken aback. “You have this strange way of turning things around,” she said with a soft chuckle, her face turning a shade pinker.

“Because I love you.”

Neither of you had said it up until now. And it’s quickly evident that it was the right thing to say, at the right moment.

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with her cup. “You always jump in headfirst, don't you?” Then, looking up into your eyes, she added softly, “I love you too.”

You grinned, feeling a weight lifted. “Took you long enough.”

Now

The grand ballroom doors open with a soft whoosh, the muted melodies of a string quartet drifting into the cool night. You step out quickly, breathing in deep gulps of fresh air, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Memories of Wanda Maximoff, which you've tried hard to keep buried, surge to the forefront of your mind.

Maria, noticing your abrupt exit, quickly follows you out. “Hey,” she calls out softly, her heels clicking on the stone path as she reaches you. “Are you okay?”

“Why is she here?” you exclaim, the pitch of your voice inching towards a sharp octave.

Maria gently grabs your arm, offering solace. “I had no idea she'd be here. I promise. She must be someone’s plus one.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your suddenly spinning surroundings.

“Y/N?”

“I'm okay, Maria,” you say, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry about this. It's your wedding, and you shouldn't be out here with me. Go back, enjoy your day.”

She looks conflicted, torn between staying by your side and going back to her new spouse and guests.

After a moment, Maria steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Promise me you'll be okay?”

You nod, hugging her back. “That’s too many promises in one day. But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

It’s just Wanda, you tell yourself.

Just the girl who could always bring out that special smile in you—the same one Maria had when she said, “I do.”

Then

The call came unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

You and Wanda had been dozing in her room for a few hours, following a particularly exhausting fight that concluded with even more exhausting—and mind-blowing—make-up sex.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” You instantly recognized Pietro’s voice. “Hey, listen, can you pick me up? I'm at a bar,” Pietro said, his voice tinged with guilt and slight slurring. “I... I swear I didn't do anything. I got promoted to store manager and I treated a few colleagues to celebrate. I'm a bit tipsy so I... I'm sorry to bother you.”

There was a pause, and you ran a hand through your hair, exchanging a glance with Wanda who now sat up with a worried look.

“Which bar?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Mike’s Tavern,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand. “Alright, I'm on my way. Stay put.”

Wanda frowned, her gaze conflicted. “I want to come with you,” she said, her brows furrowing together in concern and sleepiness.

“You should stay,” you said, sliding into your jeans. “It's a bit of a drive to New Jersey. You've had a long day, and you need to rest. I'll handle this.”

She bit her lip, torn, but finally nodded. “Please be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will,” you said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

You didn't call Wanda on your way back from New Jersey, but not because nothing occurred.

Rather, something did happen, and you weren't conscious enough to make the call.

You and Pietro made it to the hospital.

Wanda was an emotional wreck, grappling with the challenge of dividing her attention between her brother in ICU and you being wheeled into a separate ward.

An hour later, she didn't need to decide any longer.

Pietro Maximoff's time of death was called just as you started regaining consciousness.

The days following Pietro's death were a blur. You'd wake up, immediately feeling the weight of the world pressing down, your every moment drenched in guilt in the form of alcohol and, sometimes, your own vomit.

Though you weren't close to Pietro anymore, he was slowly turning his life around. And while a drunk truck driver caused the accident, your own haste to get back to Wanda made you reckless.

That choice haunted you daily.

That choice made you believe that Wanda hated you in secret.

You began avoiding Wanda, her presence a haunting reminder of the brother she lost and, in a twisted way, the brother you felt responsible for losing. The relationship you cultivated turned into something that only existed as a label. Otherwise, it didn’t exist at all. It faded, just like the gash on your face that you acquired from the accident.

Nights blurred into days, and sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which. Friends would find you in bars or on the rooftops, looking worse for wear, lost in your thoughts. Yes, Wanda grieved, but she was also lost without you by her side. She yearned for your comfort, your grounding presence; instead, all she got was your voicemail.

The breaking point came on an evening when she didn’t hear from you for two weeks. On a hunch, she decided to visit your dorm room. The last thing she expected was to find Maria there. While the situation was innocent enough, to Wanda's overwhelmed and grieving heart, it felt like a betrayal. Maria, sensing the rising tension, made a hasty exit, leaving the two of you alone.

Wanda's eyes glittered with rage and sadness. “Is this it?” she demanded. “Is this how we handle grief? You shut me out and bring her in?”

You looked away, the walls you had put up to protect yourself now seeming like a prison. “It's not about Maria,” you murmured, your voice empty, almost lifeless.

Wanda's red-rimmed eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of the person she loved. “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Why don't you blame me?” you suddenly screamed, tears blurring your vision. “You should hate me for your brother dying!”

For a few moments, there was a deafening silence, interrupted only by your quiet sobs.

Wanda's hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I've never blamed you. Not once.”

You remained quiet, refusing to let Wanda lift your chin from your chest.

Wanda continued, “Life is a series of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. You can't control everything. And neither can I. We both lost him, Y/N. I don’t need more loss by losing you too.”

“Maybe you already have,” you whispered, finally looking into her eyes.

Wanda's voice cracked, “You can't be serious. What are you saying?”

You felt drained, worn out. “I don't know how to be us anymore, Wanda.”

She looked devastated. “So you're just walking away? Because we're hurting?”

You just wanted to be able to breathe again. You just wanted all of the pain to end, even if it meant letting her go.

Wanda's face crumpled, her voice rising. “So, that's it? You're just giving up?”

You could barely muster the strength to speak. "I just think... maybe it's easier this way."

“Easier for whom?” Wanda yelled, unable to hold everything back any longer. “I don't need easy, Y/N. I need you. But if you're so set on this, then be honest with me.”

You took a deep breath, your throat tight. “I think we need space, Wanda. A break.”

For a moment, it looked like Wanda might collapse. She took a step back, her gaze cold and hard. “You think a break will fix this? Fine. But don't expect me to be here waiting when you come around.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

The last image of Wanda Maximoff etched into your mind as you closed her chapter.

Now

You half-expect her to seek you out after you left the reception. So, when the familiar scent of Wanda’s perfume wafts over, you keep your back turned, taking a long drag from your cigarette rather than acknowledging her arrival.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, her voice softer than the last time you heard it.

You hand her a cigarette without a word, watching her closely as she lights it. Her fingers, slender and pale, bring the cigarette to her lips, and she takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh.

She looks so different, yet so achingly familiar.

Her hair is red—a detail you missed earlier. But now, standing this close to her, you can pick out everything that’s changed about her.

And you hate how good you are at doing just that.

For a few minutes, both of you stand in silence, letting the smoke swirl around in patterns before it gets carried away by the wind.

Wanda breaks the silence. “It's been a while.”

“Did you know it was Maria’s wedding?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to look at her.

She hesitates, exhaling a plume of smoke before admitting, “Yes, I did. But explaining to Steve our... complicated history and why I'd refuse to be his plus one seemed harder than just going with it.”

“Steve?”

She looks down, taking a moment before murmuring, “Steve’s my fiancé.”

Your eyes instinctively flit to her left hand, landing on the glimmering diamond ring. It's large and hard to miss, and you almost want to laugh that you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a long pause between you both before you find your voice. “Congratulations, Wanda.” And to your own surprise, you genuinely mean it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action you still find so endearing after all these years. But you’re not supposed to find anything about her endearing anymore. They’re not supposed to make your heart race. They’re not supposed to make you feel light-headed with desire.

It hits you painfully just how possible it is to stand mere inches from someone, yet feel oceans apart.

Wanda takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily.

“You know,” Wanda says, her voice soft, “I never really got to apologize for how things ended between us.” She shakes her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt... lost. And when you tried to come back, I was already seeing someone else. By that time–”

“–so much has happened and I’ve hurt you too much,” you finish for her, a pained smile on your lips. “I’m sorry too.”

Wanda's breath hitches, and for a moment, she's transported back to your dorm room. She's spent a long time wondering what might have happened if she had stayed. But that choice belongs to a different timeline, a version of her that might have been braver than she feels now.

You pause, glancing at your hands before meeting her eyes. “Are you happy, Wanda?” A part of you hopes she's found happiness, yet another selfish part wishes she hasn't—because if she hasn't, maybe there's still a space for you in her life.

Wanda meets your gaze, her eyes shining with a clarity you hadn't seen in years. “I am happy,” she confirms softly.

The unexpected rush of emotion tightens your throat, and your eyes mist over. But you fight it, forcing a big smile that wrinkles the corners of your eyes.

“That's great, Wanda,” you say. Your heart aches a bit, thinking how happiness can feel like a double-edged sword.

Reading your expression, she asks, “What about you? Are you happy?”

You promised Maria you won’t stop looking for the kind of happiness that brings people together.

So, now you hang onto the hope of that promise.

“Getting there,” you answer, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I will be.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #steve rogers #wanda maximoff au #maria hill #bittersweet ending

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libraryofloveletters · 7 months

Text

chapter three: the eyes never lie

Chalres Leclerc x Fem!Reader + Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nerves, guilty feelings, charles is a bit oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend is out here like that, inconsistent race schedules sorry, carlos is ignoring/not feeling the guilt, mentions of cheating, a few cheeky comments from carlos, tension, lingering looks, flirting, the use of 'slut' in a derogatory way.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note: sorry for the wait besties! hopefully y'all are into this as much as I am lmao

Call My Name Masterlist

---

The nerves were racking you and you can't help but feel guilty about your actions.

Your darling boyfriend Charles seems to notice your nerves, but chalked it up to nothing more than nerves over your upcoming exams. It was more than that; it was the fact that you had left him with a good intention of going home and somehow ended up in the bed of his teammate.

There's a bit of a break between the races in Monaco and Monza, you and Charles spent the majority of the break in Monaco, relaxing and unwinding - at least Charles was.

It's eating away at you, swallowing you whole every time you look at your boyfriend. You felt guilty just thinking about Carlos, let alone when Charles brings him up - you push away the thoughts, shutting the conversation down.

You love Charles or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Forcing yourself to think that you were in love with him and in some ways you were, but you knew that it was never going to be the same way it was with Carlos.

Now, if it was love you felt for Carlos? You weren't sure.

All you knew was that Charles never - in the 7 months you've been together - ever made you feel the way that Carlos did.

Days to Monza turned into hours and into seconds; now, there you are, at the home of Ferrari with your boyfriend. You find yourself, surrounded by Charles and Carlos, their faces plastered everywhere, the crowds chanting their names; you can't escape either of them.

It wasn't Charles you wanted to escape, but Carlos.

He was everywhere you didn't want him to be.

It was easy to pretend with Charles after a while. You ignored everything Carlos related, you and Charles lived in a harmonious little bubble without a thing in the world to bother you. Now that you've left, it was hard - so hard. Every single second you had a gut wrenching feeling that you'd be caught. That someone, somewhere, would know what you and Carlos did in Monaco.

They'd find out that you weren't a loving girlfriend but instead a cheating slut.

While you were battling your moral conscience every day, Carlos seemed perfectly fine.

You never understood how he managed to go on with his days as if you two hadn't done anything wrong. It was wrong, so fucking wrong but god, did it feel good. The guilt was eating you alive, you needed to talk to Carlos - you didn't need to be around him, you really should stay away but you needed to get this off your chest.

Charles was in the media pen and you had maybe half an hour before he came back. So you took that as your chance to go speak to his teammate.

Finding your way to his driver's room, you knock on the door. You were expecting Carlos, not Rupert. "Hey, y/n." The ginger smiles, "everything okay ?"

Rupert wasn't expecting you, his brows furrowed as he sees you peek behind him. "Is Carlos here? I uh.. I need to speak to him."

"He had to grab something from his car, he'll be back in a few."

"Oh," you nod, "I'll come back."

"No no, that's okay. You can come in and wait for him, he'll be back in a few and I have to go prep his stuff for quali anyways."

"You're sure?" You asked, hesitantly stepping into the room.

"Absolutely," Rupert steps to the side, letting you make yourself comfortable before shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

You sit by yourself for a while, taking in the surroundings. You had never actually been in his driver's room - you had no reason to be in there. There's a Spain flag hanging on the wall, a few family photos here and there, a terrifying comparison photo of him and his father; something of nightmares but to each their own. The pillow behind you had the Spain flag printed on it, your finger traced over the patterns when the door opens.

"You're not Rupert," the voice calls, shutting the door behind them. Setting the pillow down, you look up to see Carlos. "Would you like me to call him back?" You asked, standing up before you fixed the pillow.

Carlos smiled, shaking his head. "No."

"And why not?"

"Rupert won't kiss me the way you do," he admits, making you roll your eyes. As much as you wanted to scream and fight, he was so charming and you couldn't help the smile on your face.

"If you paid him enough, I'm sure he'd probably kiss you."

Carlos took a step towards you, his hand resting on your lower back. "Still won't be as good as you."

You give him a soft shove, creating some space between the two of you. "Do you not feel guilty, Carlos?"

"Guilty?" His brows furrow, the faintest of head tilts as he looks at you. "What for?"

You scoff; you're not sure if you're more mad at yourself or at him for not knowing what you meant. "Monaco." You say quietly, eyes fixed on him.

Carlos shrugs, sitting on the little couch in his room. You turn to face the man, his eyes wandering up and down your body. "Stop that." You say, rolling your eyes yet again.

"Need I remind you that I'm not the one in a relationship?" His arms crossed as he looked at you.

"So it's all on me?"

He hums, shrugging. "Could have walked out that night, y/n. You didn't have to stay and you definitely didn't have to do that thing with your-"

"Stop." You cut him off, pointing a finger at him. Carlos smirks, pursing his lips as he clears his throat.

"You texted me, you kissed me, Carlos."

"You didn't have to come, y/n. You didn't have to kiss me back, I wasn't holding you hostage."

"Might as well have been."

"Oh please, you loved it." He smiles, raising his eyebrows. You scoff, unable to believe the nonsense you were hearing from the man. "Fuck you, Carlos."

He leans back, his arms behind his head. "You sure did, y/n."

You groan, unsure if you wanted to punch him, strangle him or suffocate him with his stupid Spain throw pillow but instead, chose to walk out of his room; just as you did, you bump into one person that shouldn't have seen you up there.

"You okay, babe?" Charles's hands rest on your arms, steadying you after you bump into him. You smile, nodding. "I was just coming to look for you."

He notices Carlos's door open, the Spanish driver watching the two of you. "What were you looking for me for?" Charles asks, his arm over your shoulder as his glance moves from his teammate back to you.

"My sunglasses are in your room." You smiled, leaning into your boyfriend.

"Were you just with Carlos?" Charles asks, curiosity getting the best of him. You nod, "I just walked up with him, I was waiting for you to come up so we were just chatting."

"Yeah," Carlos pipes up from his room, smiling at the couple; y/n's a quick thinker, he thinks to himself - that'll come in handy.

You look at Carlos, the man locking eyes with you and you look away but his eyes stay fixed on you. Something about the way he looked at you rubbed Charles the wrong way and being the good boyfriend he was, notices the uncomfortableness of the situation.

"Did you get your sunglasses, love?" He asks, walking you towards his driver's room. "No, the door was locked." You tell him, "Andrea must have locked it."

Charles nods, towards his door before unlocking it for you. "Go on," he lets you walk in, shutting the door behind you two.

The two drivers' rooms shared a wall between them, everything could be heard, there was essentially no privacy when it came to them. Carlos could hear when Charles asked if you were okay. You tell him you're fine, Carlos is certain you've got your signature reassuring smile on your face as you tell him you're okay.

He hears the door open and shut again, the footsteps approaching his driver's room. It's Charles, "meeting starts in 15 in the garage," his teammate tells him, leaning on the doorframe.

Carlos nods, glancing at the woman behind him. "I'll be there."

The Monegasque driver nods, reaching for his girlfriend's hand, the two of you interlocking fingers as you make your way to the stairs. Carlos gets up, walking over to the doorway and leaning on the doorframe as he watches you make your way down; red skirt bouncing with each step, your sunglasses pushed into your hair - no one would ever think that you were anything other than Charles' loving girlfriend.

Carlos knew you were so much more than that.

---

No matter how much you tried, how you tossed and turned, sleep would not come. Charles was already in dreamland, his arm over your waist as he snored quietly.

Usually, it'd put you to sleep - even if you did find it annoying at first but now, it's a reminder of your constant guilt.

Unable to sleep, you find yourself getting out of bed. The stirring wakes Charles and the man sitting up as you put your slippers on.

"Where are you going?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"For a walk. I have a headache so I just want some fresh air." You turn to face him and he nods. "Do you want some company?"

You smile but shake your head, "it's okay, babe. Stay and sleep, I'll be back in 20 minutes."

Charles smiles, laying back down. "Be safe," he mumbles, eyes already closed. His hand reached out for you, something he did when you left before he did - the different time zones he travelled through often left him in bed for longer than you.

You hold it, walking around the bed to his side and leaning down. Charles opens his eyes for a moment, his free hand cupping your jaw as he smiles sleepily at you.

"You're sure you'll be okay?"

You nod, "I'll be back before you know it." The man smiles, pulling you down slightly to give you a kiss. As horrible as it was, the thought crossed your mind; it didn't feel the same as Carlos. The passion wasn't there.

You pick up your room key, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you quietly. You took the stairs, making your way outside through a back door.

You end up by the pool and you're certain no one was going to be out there, it's nearly 2am.

Much to your surprise, there was someone there.

You can't see the person just yet but you can see the figure in the pool, the outline of their body. As you walk closer to the edge, the person comes up to the surface, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

Carlos.

"Seems you keep finding me," he says, floating around.

You shrug, "just needed some fresh air, what are you doing up? Should you be getting your beauty sleep for the race tomorrow ?"

"Swimming helps me relax; Rupert is sleeping and the gym is closed so here I am." Carlos tells you, watching as you left your slippers by the table, walking over barefoot and sitting at the edge of the pool. Your legs hung down into the cold water, your face twisting in momentary displeasure before you relaxed slightly.

You always seem to be on edge these days.

He swims up to the edge, leaning on it. His tanned arms rest over the edge, water dripping off his muscles as he looks over at you. "I don't feel guilty." He says.

"I do."

"You shouldn't." He whispers and your brows furrow. "Charles isn't that great of a boyfriend."

You scoff, unable to believe his audacity. "How could you even say that?"

"If he was such a great boyfriend, if he really knew you; he'd realize something was off by now and considering that you two are still happily in love, he hadn't put two and two together."

It takes you a minute to gather your thoughts; unsure if you should drown him or cuss him out but you bite your tongue and hold back the urge to drown him.

You get up, pulling yourself up from the pool. "I think I'll be going back to bed."

Carlos nods, getting out of the pool himself. You had brushed the water from your legs, putting your slippers back on.

Just as you go to walk away, Carlos grabs your hand. "You shouldn't feel guilty about something that feels right."

Again, you don't answer the man but pull your hand away instead.

"You know exactly what I mean, y/n." He calls out to you as you walk away, you stop to look back at him before you walk into the hotel, half minded to turn the lock on the door and leave him outside.

Once again, you find yourself on the stairs, walking up to the 15th floor. You stop by your room door, feeling your pockets for the key as you catch your breath.

The lock clicks when you slide the key into the slot.

Charles had his back to the door, you set your key down and took your slippers off as you made your way to bed. He feels the mattress dip as you get into bed, his arms wrapping around you before pulling you into him.

You settle into his chest, the tip of his nose brushes against your ear. His brows furrow, the man half asleep when he asks, "why do you smell like that?"

"What?" You look at him, "smell like what? I showered, you know."

He chuckles, "no, like.. the pool, chlorine."

"Oh," the image of Carlos shirtless and wet crosses your mind and you push the thought away. "Ended up by the pool when I went for my walk. There were some teenagers splashing around."

"So late?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I can change if you want-" "Just stay," he whispers, arms tightening around you.

The room falls quiet, Charles is snoring again and you pray that sleep comes as you close your eyes for the second time that night.

---

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container-of-apple-juice · 2 years

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Alright, I’m sorry but I have to do a bit of sad posting about the lack of an Ofmd renewal this far into it. Feel free to skip past.

Look, I know that a bit of gut wrenching angst can make for a compelling story- I don’t hate ALL angst- but there is a very real difference between the grief I feel towards angst in general and the Ofmd season one finale specifically.

That key difference being that a season two is NOT guaranteed. Big companies and streaming services reject queer narratives as easy as breathing. It wouldn’t be surprising, even if the show has garnered them all that money- they can simply take what they’ve earned and cut their losses in hopes of keeping a bigoted community in their subscription lists.

And if we don’t get a season two, I hate to say it but this ending will leave a Very different taste in my mouth than it currently does. Even though I’m still at least a little bit hopeful for a season two (though im admittedly more pessimistic than most viewers. Fool me once, etc. etc.)

Sure, the show wasn’t marketed as a queer narrative. But it has very clearly been received as one- and LOUDLY.

And for good reason! It’s absolutely groundbreaking and incredible. But. That makes me incredibly wary about its chances at renewal.

And if the show doesn’t get renewed- if we don’t get on-screen resolution to this cliff hanger of angst- then I can’t help but feel as though the entire show is a bit soiled. For me, at least.

And I fucking love this show!! Don’t get me wrong!! I have full faith that- given a second season- the angst would be swiftly dealt with in typical romcom fashion. And I would love that.

But if we don’t? If the show isn’t renewed?

Then…all those sweet tender moments we got between the two leads will always be tainted by the fact that it’s all thrown away by the time the finale comes around.

Even if they reconcile- there’s no denying that the wholesome friendship-to-lovers arc came to a jarring end when Stede chose to abandon Edward at the docks that morning. They’ll have to rebuild their bond- at least somewhat- upon reuniting.

Because as it is, Ed’s trust and development within himself has basically been factory reset as far as we know- what with the Kraken arc and the supposed murder of Lucius and the marooning of the crew- it leaves one of two love interests in a state of absolute desolation. He’s lost all over again- hurting more than ever before, now that he’s had a glimpse at a life worth living only to have it thrown back in his face by the very person who opened him up to begin with.

Blah blah blah all the exquisite angst that we’re already aware of, yeah? But if we don’t get a renewal then it just….ends there. Even if Jenkins posts a notes app summary of what Would Have Happened- we won’t get to see it. It won’t be real like the rest of the show is.

It would be like so many queer narratives we’ve seen in the past that only end in heartbreak for the main love interests. (Because historically queer narratives have ended in tragedy to teach a lesson)

To be honest, if we don’t get a season two I won’t be able to appreciate the outfit swap. Or the shared laughter. Or the growth and closeness and adventures they shared- because I will know that the ultimate conclusion I have to watch is the same heart wrenching anguish.

I already can’t watch episode ten in full because I’m a gay weenie it’s too painful- it’s the hope for season two that keeps me coming back and back again- because the show is beautiful in more ways than one. And I love witnessing the trust and love grow between the leads in hopes that it will reconnect and reunite them in season two despite the odds they’ve faced.

And it’s not just the main love interests! Every single queer pairing in the show is brutally torn apart by the finale.

And if we don’t get a renewal? And it’s just…that sad as fuck shit ending forever? Man. I just. I think it’ll devastate me honestly!

Yeah, we got a truly good queer narrative for once. But that’s what scares me- big streaming services are NOT our allies- they are allied to those who will pay for subscriptions. And a renewal is not guaranteed. And I’m just. Scared. I want this narrative to have the happy ending it deserves, and I’m so so scared that it won’t get that.

#ofmd #sorry this got really long #long post #I’m overly sensitive about this show I know.#I cry every time I watch the finale and my roommate told me I was being overly sensitive because ‘obviously it’s going to be resolved in s2’#and I just wish I could be as blasé about it as her because man I’m not at all convinced that we’ll get a season two. and that will just.#break me probably!#finally a queer narrative that is so entirely incredible and it ends like THAT???#god. it’s truly more than I can take. that would be SO fucking cruel.#I am not immune to deeply and personally relating to a narrative for the first time in my life only to have it end it heartbreak #only to have it wrenched away from me without a proper resolution

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hpalways · 3 years

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Broken Petals || Kazuha

Note: This is a hanahaki disease Kazuha oneshot! So heads up, angst is waiting hehe

Some days, he could hear it, crawling right out of him. Other days, it would be serene as the rippling waters below him. It usually altered between the two, distorting his reality for a few while the wind tickled his ears and the trees warned him of the inevitable. He was connected with the outside world, allowing them to guide him on all aspects of his life, because he longed for freedom. But this one very thing, he shrunk away from their touch, too stubborn to rescind the very thing that kept him going.

His eyes trailed to the [h/c] locks that furled with the breeze, to the gentle smile that was locked on your lips as you pulled at the wagon through the fields. Being the small townsperson you were, you worked in the fields of Inazuma daily until you had nothing left to lose. It was a difficult life, but most had no other choice, shouldering burdens to carry a family back home. Your mother sick and your brother too young, you were the one to take care of everyone.

But deep inside, he sensed something more from you. It was a longing of freedom, just as he did. Each time he approached you, he could hear relief in your breath -- relief from the harsh labor that always came to haunt.

"Do you need help?" he asked quietly, extending a hand to the handle of the wagon you lugged.

You shook your head, gratefully smiling nonetheless. "You know it's always going to be a no. Besides, I'm almost done anyway. Instead, why don't you tell me a poem like you do sometimes? That, in itself, helps me a lot."

Pondering for a second, he watched your figure for a silent moment, red hues drinking you in. That was what he always loved about you. You were so selfless, so graceful, and so beautiful. You didn't need to be a noble to show off such attributes to everyone -- you didn't need to wear silky robes to become the person everyone looked up to. Nothing you did was ever taken for granted, because you lived your life with a smile, despite never being able to achieve your true dream.

In the dark shed, he realized how tight spaced it was. Cheeks glowing warmly to be in close proximity to you, he stayed on the side to see you shoving the large wagon back. He dug his heels into the cool dirt when you turned to him, wiping sweat off your forehead happily. "No poem today? Aw, that's too bad." Stepping up to the samurai, you pat his cheek in a friendly manner. "Your presence was enough, so that's okay. Oh... I shouldn't dirty you in my hands. I'm sorry about that." Just as you were retracting your hand, he instinctively latched his fingers onto your arm to stop you. [e/c] irises widened momentarily, bewilderment coloring your features.

There was nothing romantic about this -- not at all rosy like the poems he made up with his thoughts on you. He let out a sigh and released your arm. "My apologies," he whispered, stalking right out of the shed before you could utter a word. "I need to get going now."

His trek back to his home was a quick one, with stealthy footsteps from all his training as a samurai. The sun was setting warmly, casting shades of orange and pinks across the skies in an ombre fashion.

Though each step was quick, the heavier it got as it went on.

He thought about the Vision Hunt Decree and how he would have to escape from Inazuma soon. No matter what, he couldn't stay here, not when all his aspirations were kept in his vision. After what his dear friend went through to fight against the Decree, Kazuha could never sit back and allow the officials to rob of him.

If he were to leave Inazuma, then there was one thing he wanted to do, to wrap things up and cut clean ties.

Arriving at his home, he walked into the cold building. Just before he could go in deeper, an unfathomable pain spread through his torso. Releasing a gasp, he crumbled to the floor, clenching his stomach and curling up into a ball. Salty tears clung to the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision and setting the world on fire. He was burning along it, fireworks going off internally, trickling red, red, and more red, that soon grew black.

His nails curled into the wood planked floors while he whimpered, the agony becoming unbearable. Getting into a fitful cough, every sound he let out wrenched at his soul, tearing it into pieces. They took their time, shoving an arm down his esophagus and cackling in joy at his suffering.

One last cough stopped the pain. Something flew out of his mouth, daintily spinning in the air like a lone ballerina. It was a petal, coated in thick blood at the edges.

Another one.

Numbly staring at the sight, he thought that it looked beautiful. It was almost as beautiful as you, a soft texture to its surface, yet stronger around the edges. It was almost as beautiful as you, but nothing could ever match your beauty.

He was going to endure this. For you.

The next day, he decided he had to rip the band-aid off. Time was less on his side by the day and soon he would have to leave.

Fortunately, today you had a day off, so you invited Kazuha out to stroll around the paths of Inazuma. Of course, he agreed to it, knowing that this was the opportunity he was waiting.

The two of you aimlessly wandered within the stretching paths, taking in the purple petals that sat prettily among branches and listening to the song of noisy birds. How stunning it was today, causing the corners of your mouth to lift up in sheer excitement. Your eyes lapped it up like a curious child running through the fields during free time, observing every little thing that failed to be inspected as a farmer. Staring at you, his heart squeezed. There was nothing more he wanted than to be by your side.

"The Vision Hunt Decree is growing stronger by the day," you suddenly brought up, sorrow taking over your usual face. "You're leaving, aren't you, Kazuha? I know how precious that vision is to you."

But you're just as precious to me, he wished to say. "Indeed," he said instead, glancing up to the wispy clouds. "I am being called to leave. I don't believe it will be too hard to sneak out of here."

Your eyes watered and you opened your arms to wrap him into a hug. Skin brushed silk and your fingers clenched tightly to his back, trembling in sadness. Your head leaned into his shoulder, breathing him in. He let out a breath in surprise, heart pounding at your warmth, your skin, your touch. "I will miss you so much. I will miss your poems and your comforting voice and the time we spent fooling around like nobodies."

That was when he came to a realization. He was selfish for holding onto you, for even thinking that you would come with him when so many responsibilities held you down. Your situation and his were different, leading you two onto separate routes, never to be met again.

He didn't want to let you go. It was driving him insane. It was driving him so insane a hand plunge into his chest.

"Sometimes I yearn for more than what I have... more than what I deserve," he muttered, pulling away from you and putting a gap to the distance from the light of his life.

"I do too," you agreed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Come visit me when the Decree is over, okay? Promise me."

How could he give you false hope like that? Even if the Decree were to be lifted, how could he ever dare face you again after such heartbreak? He knew you didn't love him the way he did you, but he chose to stay ignorant about it. And now... because he came to terms with it, it stung like hell just to be by your side. "I promise," he lied, the words slipping from his lips like slippery honey running down. Too sticky to hold on. And too sweet to ever be true.

"I love you, Kazuha," you murmured, planting a kiss on light colored locks, the action erupting goosebumps all over his body.

Those were the words he dreamt of hearing from you. He cried because of those dreams, but he cried even more because the meaning behind them were not the kind he sought.

Soon enough, you left, your back turned on him and growing smaller in the distance. He watched you without ever taking his eyes off of you, feeling the same pain burst into his system. He continued to keep his eyes on you when he crashed onto the ground, wheezing in raspy breath. A waterfall of tears slid down his cheeks, combining into one at the bottom of his chin, his features contorted from torment.

He would endure this for you. Always.

A kick to the gut sent him reeling and he doubled over, hugging himself as he coughed, over and over again. A petal flew out... and then another...

A flurry of petals escaped his mouth, sprinkling the sky of petals. This was more than what he would normally get.

Coughing turned into hacking, succumbing him into the earth. He was being suffocated, suffocated by a love that was never his to begin with. With one last cough -- a clean petal rested on the side of his cheek, representing you. Fluttering his eyes shut, he decided that he would endure this, even death, for you.

#genshin impact #gender neutral reader #Genshin #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact scenarios #oneshot #Kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha oneshot #romance #love #angst #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #death #character death

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kedreeva · 3 years

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Hi, I just wanted to say I really appreciate how much you fight for the no solicited criticism thing. I have dyslexia and it's really discouraging to get criticism about grammar and spelling. Which I know is one of the things people try to argue as really 'small' in ways of critiquing fics, but really it's just as bad as anything else.

I spend hours editing my work because I'm so nervous that I will miss use a word or spell it wrong. I use talk to text to check spelling, I ask Siri to spell things for me (which iPhone has serious screwed me over on by updating that feature to be no longer helpful.) I (a grown adult) call my mom who is not even in fandom and ask her to how things are spelled if I can't find it through technology. I completely rewrite sentences or paragraphs just because I and all of my resources can't figure out the word I'm trying to spell. I edit my work on programs that allow me to highlight a word and look it up in the dictionary to make sure the definition matches with what I think I've typed. I spend a lot of time trying so hard to not have spelling mistakes, or use the wrong word. I read things out loud with filter screens, and change fonts to make sure I'm seeing the words correctly. And without fail I miss something. The programs miss something. And people pointing that crap out is so devastating.

I spend a lot of time in life online now (thanks 2020) and I have never felt more self-conscious about my inability to spell, because now it is in everything I do, every interaction is text. Which made criticism about it on fics feel ten times worse. It's hard enough to not be able to play games online because I can't get the spellcheck to guess what I mean, or not be able to text in group messages with friends because I can't read it fast enough to keep up with the conversation. So in an area where I spend hours of effort working on something, to be told I missed something is gut wrenching.

I started putting on my fics requests in the author's notes to leave no criticism (and I tried to say it as nicely as I could. I explained it made it hard for me to want to write. I said I was doing this for fun and criticism ruined that. I left it there because I felt like telling people about my dyslexia was a cop out. I don't owe people that information to make them stop, which is why I'm sending this on anon) and somehow it just seemed to get worse. I started getting "I know you said no criticism, but..." And so I took all my work down. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

Sorry to unload this all on you. I just really wanted to say going through all of your posts about this issue made me feel less alone with it. So thank you.

I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm sorry it's happened to so many others too.

People CONSTANTLY try to argue that typos are "small" so it's fine to correct them but anything else is not okay and it's like!!! it's not better!! it's still not okay unless the author says it is okay!! You deserve to have your wishes respected regardless of any personal life situation. You are 100% correct; you do not need a special circumstance to be treated with kindness and respect. That should be the default.

#unsolicited criticism #asks #anon asks #commenting

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

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Interrupted Slumber

Remus Lupin x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: I want a Remus so mf BAD in my life.

Word Count: 1,296

“Let’s talk about it, yeah?”

There was a faint light coming from outside, spilling into your bedroom through the cracked window. A gentle breeze flowed through the room, leaving your skin cool and your body comfortable. Your eyelids fluttered every few minutes or so as you continued to float through a deep, resting sleep. The clean sheets were draped over your waist and legs, keeping the easy wind from keeping you too cool. The inky black skies were dotted with little sprinkles of stars. It was perfect conditions for a productive sleep. You were quite at peace.

However, it wasn’t the same for your husband lying next to you.

Remus had broken out into a sweat, his legs shifting uncomfortably around under the sheets as his mind raced with disturbing images. His breathing was heavy and rapid in response to the nightmare he was having, his head moving in distress on his pillow. He had begun to let out scared whimpers and low cries, which brought you from your sleep. It took you a minute to realize that Remus was having a bad dream, and he was what woke you up.

You rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently to keep from startling him more.

“Remus, darling, wake up.” Your drowsy voice whispered out.

He suddenly shot up in bed with a sharp gasp, his heart pumping in his ears and throbbing in his head at being awoken so abruptly. His eyes darted around the room frantically, relief falling on his features at the sight of you looking worriedly at him.

“Oh, thank Merlin...” He croaked out, falling into your frame.

You wasted no time taking him into your hold, his head resting on your chest as you stroked his damp hair. You hushed him, rubbing his back carefully to get him to calm down a little. His breathing was muffled in your shirt as he tried to fight through the panic response, his entire body was shaking violently. You spoke to him sweetly and quietly.

“You’re okay. I’m here. It was just a dream.” You consoled him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

You felt terrible for him. You knew how much he needed sleep, and you always hated when he didn’t get it. He didn’t say anything, but he did something that almost sent you into tears yourself.

He started to cry.

Remus never cried. You would definitely consider him a sensitive guy, and he was much more in touch with his emotions than most males that you knew. Despite this, you had only seen Remus cry two other times in the many years you had been together. The first was when he proposed to you, and the second was when you got married. And even then, those had been happy tears. So this was something seriously upsetting to him.

These were not tears of joy kind of sobs. These were gut wrenching, heartbreaking, truly broken down kind of cries.

“Oh, Remus...” You called out, bringing his head from your chest so he’d look at you; “What is it?”

He was still quivering, his eyes endlessly pooling with tears and you watched helplessly as they fell down his cheeks.

“Kiss me.” He said more as a beg than anything else.

You almost chuckled, thinking he was trying to be funny to diffuse the situation, but there wasn’t a hint of entertainment on his face.

“What, love?” You asked.

His clammy hands came to your face, looking into your eyes.

“Kiss me, please. I need to know that you’re actually here.” He pleaded.

You kissed him without hesitation, your heart aching at how bad this had rattled him. He kissed you so desperately that you would’ve thought that he hadn’t seen you in years. His lips were quivering on yours, his crying only ceasing for a few seconds. He pulled away, a little less frantic, but still shaken up. He sighed deeply.

“It was so real. I was...I was sure that you...” He trailed off, another harsh bawl erupting from his soul.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead so you could see his full face, persuading him to talk it out.

“Let’s talk about it, yeah?” You suggested.

He nodded with another whimper, a fruitless attempt to stop his crying. His voice cracked and quaked as he spoke.

“I’ve had dreams like that before...but this one was so different. I didn’t even know I was dreaming,” He explained; “I was watching you, but I wasn’t really there. It was like I was watching a memory.”

He stopped for a moment, sniffling a few times before continuing with his story. He held your hand, squeezing it when he was fighting a choked up sob.

“And then I showed up, but it was a full moon,” He said, knowing you’d understand what he was implying; “Moony was so angry and he just attacked and I couldn’t do anything. Before I knew it, he had...”

You hushed him again when he fell off into crying once more. He didn’t have to say it. You knew that Moony had killed you in his dream. It was something that Remus had always been afraid of. Scratch that, he was petrified of it. Remus had mentioned to you in passing that he sometimes had bad dreams about Moony hurting people, but you guessed that you had never been the victim until tonight’s nightmare.

“Remus, I know it frightened you,” You said, wiping tears away from his scarred cheeks; “But I’m here, love. I’m right here in front of you. Moony didn’t hurt me...you didn’t hurt me.” You convinced him.

As relieving as it was to know that nothing had happened and that you were safe, Remus still felt this sense of dread. He knew what Moony could do, and he tried his best not to think about what could happen.

His shaking had slowed some, and his heart and breathing were going at a more normal pace. You held him again, his arms wrapping around your midsection and his head resting against your chest once more. He listened to your steady heartbeat, another reminder that you were there and totally fine. You hummed softly, rocking him back and forth just slightly. While you never ever wanted Remus to feel upset or hurt, you still cherished these moments where he was vulnerable. The moments where he retreated to you for comfort.

You took advantage of any moment to show him love and affection. He was such a pure, gentle soul that didn’t deserve the tribulations he had to face.

“I love you. You’re okay.” You said again, making sure that he knew.

He raised his head, moving to sit upright. He knew there was no way he’d be sleeping for the rest of the night, but he didn’t mind. As long as you were there, he didn’t need it.

“I love you, my beautiful girl,” He replied, the last of his tears fading away; “Thank you for being there for me...and I’m sorry for waking you.”

You assured him that there was nowhere else on the planet that you’d rather be, telling him that he was more important than sleep. Now that he was well into settling down, he noted how disheveled you looked from being abruptly brought from your sleep. He knew you’d want to go back to bed soon, which was fine.

“Kiss me again?” He requested with a slight smirk.

You gave him a smile, knowing that this time he was just being cheeky. You obliged though, kissing him and keeping him close until he was fully feeling like himself again. He didn’t get much sleep for the rest of the night, but you were there with him.

And that was all he needed.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus #professor lupin #professor lupin x reader #professor lupin x you #david thewlis #Harry Potter #harry potter lupin #seriouslysnape

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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SHADOW V SHADOW - reader x Azriel PROMPT - I have a request. Can you make one where azriel's partner is kidnapped and tortured by people from the court of nightmares? then he gets desperate, but finally manages to find her, he arrives pissed off at the place and at the end of everything is right please?.

Rhys knew Azriel would never forgive him if he denied this request. His brother was practically vibrating with rage when he returned from Rask. His search for you took him to any whisper of a lead he could find. Without another option, he requested - more of a demand but Rhys could see why- to pay Kier a visit. Rhys gave Kier the courtesy of a day of preparation. Azriel dressed in his darkest armor, and didn't hide the way his siphons glowed bright in the throne room. Rhys quieted the gathering with a hand, and Az let his shadows do the work. He scanned the crowd for anyone who looked to be nervous. Well, more nervous than usual in the presence of their high lord. "I think you all know that we have been busy of late." Rhys drawled. He scanned the crowd as well, his mind flicking from one person to the next. "Back left, take him and leave. There may be more that notice you." Azriel walked off the platform, and turned to mist. + The first male to meet his end was the one who spat in his face and promised him that you were already dead. The next was smarter. He saw what was done to his friend and begged Azriel for mercy. "Your mate is locked far below." He quivered in his seat where Azriel had tied him. "But he watches her. He watched over us all." "Who?" Azriel ground out, the tip of his dagger carving a crescent into the high cheekbone of the noble Fae. "Riker, he's below. He's far below, where Kier's magic does not touch." "You've been useful." Azriel nodded, then jutted his dagger into the male's stomach. His hands did not shake. He wiped them on the male's tunic and left the body where it was tied. He had more digging to do, apparently. And Kier was the first person he would ask. + "Who's Riker?" Rhys asked casually, holding Kier's mind in the now empty throne room. Kier's body twitched in defiance of Rhy's control. "I dont-" Kier gasped. Azriel stepped closer to the male, menacing. The shadows crept up Kier's legs. Azriel did not flinch when Rhys' power squeezed the breath from him. "Dont be shy. Tell us all about it." Rhys coaxed. Finally, Kier gave the slightest nod. And Rhys let him drop to the floor, gasping for air. Azriel kept his shadows around the male, just in case. "Riker was a story. A legend from when I was a child. No one has heard of him since the Final Battle of the Prison." He gasped, and sputtered on the floor. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. They still narrowed at Rhysand. "What were the legends of?" Azriel demanded, ready to let his tendrils of darkness assert themselves over the male. Kier managed a laugh, then looked to both of them quizzically. "You're serious." He sighed, and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Rhys was not amused. His claws danced along the edge of his consciousness. "He was a horror to all. Not a Fae.. not really. He possessed the bodies of fae to do his bidding. Like a poison, he takes control and forces you to do as he wishes. If its killing, or stealing, or fucking. Anything. You have no control." Azriel's stomach dropped to the floor. He and his brother glanced at each other, and Rhys nodded a curt dismissal to Kier. "Dont look for him. He will use your magic to destroy anything." He warned, giving Rhys a long look before limping from the throne room. + "The shadow will bring freedom to us. We will leave this hole and be free." The priestess said, as if reading from a book. See recited the words like they were Holy. You cringed in disgust. It wasnt the first time you'd heard one of the eyeless creatures say it, but it was one of the scariest encounters since you'd been taken. The dead eyes of the withering priestess were haunting. Perhaps taken was the wrong word. You seemed to just wake up and decide to start walking. Your mind screamed against what you were doing, but you couldn't stop. Your bare feet led you from your bed and Azriel, down the ten thousand steps, and through rocky terrain of the mountainside. You walked and walked, feet bleeding until you came to the small rock crevice in the side of the mountain. You fought yourself, your mind panicked. Your body squeezed between the crack though, and you tried to reach down your bond to Azriel again. A dark shadow that was not him clamped down on your mind. Your panicked thoughts dissipated, and you couldn't remember why you were fighting anymore. You walked expertly down the worn path through the rocks, as if you'd walked it a million times before. The dripping walls let in a minimal cold whisk of air. And without thinking, you walked yourself into a cell at the end of the long hall. And sat in the center of it. The priestess that locked the door behind you was withering. Her cheekbones sunk in, and the opal atop her head was gray, dull. "Welcome." She said, voice otherworldly. + Azriel circled the mountain at least fifty times before he landed. Cassian was waiting for him at the small entrance they had found. "All clear, let's go." Azriel placed a hand on the pale rock and ducked his head inside. Cassian grabbed his wrist. "We need to be careful. Rhys cant help us once we go in there." He gave his brother a stern look. Azriel brushed off the concern, but nodded. The path was well worn into the stone. And there was where Azriel picked up the first hint of your presence since you had been taken. His heart painfully kicked up speed. The blood on the floor was minimal, but it was there. Cassian noted it too, and set a pace too slow going forward. Azriel wished he could let his muscles be free to run straight down the long hall and find you. He listened to his brother though, trusting him more than his instincts. The sight of you was the biggest relief he'd ever had. Then, the biggest fear. Your eyes were dull, hollow. He tried reaching for your bond, but it was gray and limp. Like there was nothing at the other end of it. He called for you, then he was screaming down the tendril that once was light and happiness. And nothing called back. Cassian's breath caught in his throat, Azriel turned to his brother. Shock was there in his eyes, and gut wrenching terror.

A dark spindling shadow was curling around him, seeping the hazel from his eyes and replacing it with the same dull gray that stained yours. He was frozen. As hard as he tried, Cassian couldn't fight the tinging fog that possessed him. It crept into his mind "Hello, lord of bloodshed...." They whispered to him.

Azriel threw himself at his brother, knocking the shadows away with his siphons. His own dark mist fought the fog that slowly filled the room. The fight was intense between them, Az's darkness was losing. They sputtered to life and kept them at bay while Cassian recovered from the shadowsinger's blow. "Go. Take my mate and run." Azriel growled at him. Cassian's eyes went wide, and he glanced to the cell where you sat. He and Azriel went into action at the same time, Azriel striking the dark figure that seeped down from the ceiling. Human in shape, but it revelaed nothing beyond that. It was a ghost, a large demon waiting to strike. It hovered over the Illyrians, and they began a fight against a shadow itself.

It was a trap. Idiot. His mind screamed at him. Cassian blasted his shield out, knocking your cell door out of the way. You didn't move. Az's stomach flipped, his eyes piercing you. But you did not feel it. You didn't feel a damned thing, even as your mind thrashed against the control the demon had. "Shadows will free you...." The dark tendrils whispered into your mind. Then, the room went totally dark. Ravik's power coursed through the ancient stone walls. Cassian barreled into the fight with his brother, shoving the dark figure back. The black clouds swirled around their fighting forms. It grew and grew until Az couldn't see his own siphons anymore.

He gave a final scream down your bond, latching on to that link and pulling. Then he saw the fog there. The layer that overtook your thoughts. "Spread this sickness. Spread the knowledge. Love the Master." They chanted. It made his stomach coil. He went deeper into your mind and pushed, pushed out and kept that shadow away long enough for you to do the rest yourself. You shoved and fought and kicked it away. Your mind was exhausted, but you held onto Az's cool grip like it was a tether to reality. Then, you saw everything clearly again. The darkness that encapsulated the two Illyrians avoided you. Like a bubble, they spared you from the blindness that kept Az and Cas from killing their target. You saw the golden sword strapped to Az's back instead of Truth Teller. And the reason they freed you instead of fighting first became clear. You took the sword from its sheath and shoved it into the figure between the brothers. Morrigan's sword sputtered light through the dark folds of the shadows. It hissed and popped, then.. it was gone. The shadows consumed it, then the golden light started seeping from every corner of the room. The light was blinding, then it was ringing. The piercing sound rattled the floor, then the walls. The sound of rock cracking and reforming was loud only for a second. Az felt the blood running down his jaw from his ears. His shadows turned him into wind itself. He took you and Cassian with him, and led him winnowed out of the crumbling mountainside. His wings flared, keeping you from plummeting to the ground together on the exit. Cas was right beside him, used to the strange feeling of Azriel's form of winnowing. The ground shook where you landed on the coast line. The morning light shone through the dust that erupted from the top and side of the mountain. The house of wind on the diagonal side remained intact. But the opposing side collapsed, rolling boulders and trees and dirt all the way down to the ocean. The waves could not stand against such a force. Cassian kept a shield up just in case. Cries of terror sounded from Velaris. Az fell to his knees in the wet sand, and hid his face in his palms. "Az... It's okay." You breathed, falling to his side with him. "Where's-" "He's gone. I can feel it. You killed him." You said with a hysterical laugh. The memories of being locked in the cell seemed dim now. Azriel stared at the trees and dirt falling, revealing the inside of the mountain that bordered Velaris. He tugged on the bond and you smiled, pulling him close to you. He rested his head on your shoulder as you observed the destruction together. "I'll check for any injured..." Cassian took off, flying high above the ruins once they settled. Winged pets of the Hewn city began flying out of the mountain. Rhys was landing beside you and Az in an instant. "This is coming out of your paychecks." He said with a smile. Az couldn't spare one back. The terror of what he had released into Prythian dampened the mood. "We killed it. We did this." You spoke softly to him. Trying to ease the guilt he felt. He brushed you off. "As if you had a choice. It was a trap for Cass and I. One that I fell into so easily that-" You shook him through the bond, jarring him out of his despair. "Dont be so self centered." You thought, the tingle of a wink flowing through you. His feelings were a mask to you. "Dont do that." You were getting more and more frustrated with him by the second. You caught him by the hand and wrapped around him in the sand, not caring if you got dirty. The ocean behind you roared and crashed, fighting against the new land that had spilled into it. "He already owes Mor another sword, take it easy on him." Cassian joked with the high lord. He landed with a softness that left the sand dry where his wings swooped down. The sheer power of him was waiting for its turn to be let loose. You could tell by those siphons flaring repeatedly. Az's were dull. You clamped down on your frustration. Cassian began his report. "Some of the.. darker monsters wont live. But the smarter ones are already tunneling down. The court of Nightmares seems to be waiting it out." He spoke with expertise, staring as the dust settled on the mountainside. The four of you stared at the ruined hillside for a long while. There were no injuries. No deaths. the cave in was so far from the borders of the Hewn city that the worst damage done was a few broken sculptures inside the throne room. The dust finally settled and you still watched, even as night fell. Rhys left to deal with the repercussions of the madness, but Azriel stayed wrapped around you, peeking at the ruin every now and then. He tried to hold back the waves of fear and shame that threatened to overtake him. You felt them there, and didn't push him. Cassian's breath caught. Then, a few brave souls ventured out of the tunnel systems that had been exposed. You watched tensely, observing how the group behind them reacted. They marveled at the twilight sun setting over the ocean. Rhys flew high above them, circling. Ready to destroy if they threatened the city. After a few moments of staring at the ocean and outside world, they turned back inside. The high lord landed besides you again, his power blooming from him. Waiting to be released. Rhys sighed, and folded his wings in. "The court of nightmares just may be the new twin city of Velaris."

#ACOTAR FIC #AZRIEL X READER

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calltomuster · 3 years

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Star Wars Fic Recs Part the Fourth

[first fic rec list] [second fic rec list] [third fic rec list]

Been a few weeks since I've done one of these and I've read/reread some great fics recently so let me share them with you now!

And I Fear Nothing by @maiseey (Obi-Wan/Cody, WIP, 11/? chapters, 43.4k words) Picture this: I am sitting in the parking lot of my local grocery store, having just bought a load of perishables. I get the email that And I Fear Nothing has just been updated. What do I do: run home to preserve the food I just paid for, or sit in my car and read the new chapter right away? The answer is obvious, of course! That is exactly the situation I found myself in last week when chapter 11 dropped and I did in fact choose to read it in spite of my groceries, that's how much I love this fic. In this fic, Obi-Wan and Cody are raising Luke and Leia together on Tatooine, and they've got so much trauma, and new + old wounds, and love for each other and the children they're raising that it both warms your heart and tears it apart. But that's not all, this fic expands beyond just the small home in the middle of the Jundland Wastes and explores Ahsoka and Rex and their journey to de-chip as many clones as possible. I love this fic because it doesn't shy away from hard conversations, but it does it in a way that makes you want to cry and give everyone involved a hug. Plus, there are some fantastic minor clone characters that you will 100% want to die for by the time you finish reading. Cannot recommend this fic enough.

Obligate by @communistkenobi (gen, one-shot, 23.9k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin & Ahsoka) Just when you thought the Deception arc didn't have enough pain, this AU sees Anakin fake his death instead of Obi-Wan! My heart is physically ripped out of my chest just thinking about this fic, so imagine what it'd do to you actually reading it. Anything @communistkenobi writes is so well-done and I've gone through his works list on AO3 multiple times, but somehow I missed this when it was first posted and it was like a wonderfully delightful surprise when I ran into it the other day. So, so good. Highly recommend!

Moirai by damonkey (gen, WIP, 4/? chapters, 9.2k words, Obi-Wan & Qui-Gon) All I can really say about this fic without giving anything away is that it's a Phantom Menace AU and it's so intriguing. The author is very deliberate in having a vague summary and only tagging as the story progresses, so I truly have no idea what's ahead of me but it's so -- as I said -- intriguing that I'm happy to strap into the ride. Ahhhh I'm skimming through the fic and there are so many things I want to mention but I don't want to give anything away!

Almost Home by @frunbuns (gen, one-shot, 5.2k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) You know, every time I recc a Modern AU I'm like "I don't usually like Modern AUs but..." and then proceed to gush over the fic. I went and checked and I've recced a Modern AU on almost every fic rec list I've made! Maybe I do like Modern AUs?? Or maybe the fics are just that good -- and this fic is definitely that good. In this fic, the first of a planned series of fics set in a modern Star Wars universe, Obi-Wan is reeling from the loss of his adoptive father Qui-Gon and has to care for a young Anakin. Ooooooof. Definitely hits you right in the feels, this one. Love the non-chronological storytelling too!

Naked and Not Paid by biscuitlevitation (Obi-Wan/212th Attack Battalion, WIP, 6/? chapters, 14.9k words) This fic is essentially ~15k words of the clones thirsting over Obi-Wan and it is the funniest thing I have read all year. I'm not kidding, I just read the last chapter which features space-church-lady!Anakin and I laughed so hard I cried. I'm cracking up just thinking about it. I promise you will have a good time reading this fic. And if the tag "Obi-Wan Kenobi/212th Attack Battalion" puts you off, let me just say there's no sex in this at all, it's just thirst. And it's hilarious.

Full Disclosure by @trixree (Obi-Wan/Cody, WIP, 2/3 chapters, 7.4k words) ROTS AU in which the Force bonds Obi-Wan has formed with a few members of the 212th save them from the chip and Order 66, but it doesn't stop the devastation from happening on a mass scale and they all have to try and deal with Mustafar and Luke and Leia. This fic manages to be both extremely soft and extremely gut-wrenching at the same time, and I wish I could leave more kudos. Full disclosure (get it, little pun there for ya), I will be dying until the final chapter comes out. Time to go listen to Olivia Rodrigo and reread this fic and just live in my feels.

Thirteen Days by @ewanmcgregorismyhomeboy12 (gen, one-shot, 4.1k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) Post-Zygerria arc, Anakin dresses an unconscious Obi-Wan's injuries and struggles. Ahhhh this fic is one of my favorite Zygerria arc fics, and given that that's my favorite arc, that's saying a lot! Obi-Wan doesn't say a word in this fic, but his presence is very much there, if you know what I mean. And the descriptions of injuries here are pretty graphic at times, but it's so good that you'll want to keep reading even if you have to do it through the fingers covering your eyes.

brother, let me be your shelter by @kenobilovebot (gen, one-shot, 1.6k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) This fic packs so much tenderness in a short amount of words. It covers an AU in which Obi-Wan's issues from Zigoola never really resolve, and Anakin finds out when -- well, you'll just have to read for yourself. I love Zigoola because it is such an excellent whumpfest for poor Obi-Wan and this fic is great for that, but also highlights Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship.

A Padawan At War (Again) series by @itstimeforstarwars (gen, 3 parts, 100k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) In this series, Obi-Wan and Anakin are transported from The Phantom Menace into the Clone Wars and have to deal with all that comes with it: fighting wars, discovering a Padawan you never knew you had, dueling your grandmaster who apparently is a Sith Lord now(?!) and all the rest. This series is a great ride, and I look forward to every update. Note: the first fic in this series is a one-shot that was expanded upon, and it drops you in media res. The second fic is a prequel that shows how they got to that point, and the third fic is the sequel that shows what comes after.

The Desert Storm series by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning (complete, 24 parts, 1.144 million words) There has never been a better time to start reading this series. If you read Star Wars fics on AO3, then you've definitely seen the Desert Storm series before, but maybe you were daunted by the high word count, or felt like it would be too much effort to go all the way to the beginning of a series but couldn't just jump in halfway. Let me tell you, it's 100% worth it, and now is the perfect time to read this series if you haven't already. This series is complete, but it turns out it's all just Act 1 of the larger story, which will continue in the Rise and Fall series. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning is taking a break right now before starting the next series, so you have ample time to get caught up, and YOU REALLY SHOULD. Let me tell you, this series had me on the edge of my seat more than any other piece of media I can remember. With the most recent chapters, where everything that has been building for a million words came to a head, I would get so worked up after each chapter that beforehand I would have to queue up calming things to watch afterwards, and it still wouldn't be enough and I'd be too full of feelings to get anything done the rest of the day. Seriously, this series is amazing. And if you HAVE read it before but haven't reread, now is the perfect time for that as well. I've reread this series multiple times and it's so rewarding because the author sprinkled in so many hints as to what will come that you only understand the second (or third) time around. I know I've written a lot for this rec but this is a long series and it deserves it. Go read! Now!

If you like any of these fics, please consider reblogging so they can get more exposure! And if you noticed I missed someone’s Tumblr account, or linked the wrong one, please let me know!

#star wars #fic recs #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #commander cody #qui-gon jinn #commander rex #jedi order #sw tcw

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

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Family Fatality-Awesamdude

Gn!reader x Sam x Son!Tommyinnit …. It be angsty and sad with a happy ending. Also, does not follow what actually happened in the lore!

Small note: I think this is the last fic I’m going to write in first person. I think a lot of people enjoy the use of second person more and it’s also a bit easier for me to write in second person. The only reason that this fic is written in first is because it’s a part two and I want to keep it consistent. If you have thoughts about this, feel free to message me!!

Part One: Family Matters.

Check out my masterlist here

Y/N believed it was a bad idea from the beginning. Call it parental instincts. But unfortunately no one believed them… until it was too late.

Y/N’s POV

I knew it was a bad idea.

I should have listened to my gut.

Tommy should have listened.

Sam should have listened.

We should have known better.

When Tommy told Sam and me that he wanted to visit Dream in prison, I instantly said no. That boy had been through so much trauma and manipulation because of that green wearing bastard, I didn’t want Dream to ever be able to see Tommy again.

Sam was more into it. It was less of wanting Tommy to be able to see Dream and more he wanted an opportunity to show Tommy the prison. But he was for it. Sure he knew what Dream did to Tommy and hated the blond for it, but he also understood Tommy’s desire to see him.

We told Tommy we would talk it over and let him know our decision.

I really didn’t want him to go.

Sam talked me into it.

That night after we put Tommy and Stella to sleep and crawled into our own bed, Sam began to explain his side further. He told me about how it might be nice for Tommy to get some closure. To be able to see Dream completely trapped in prison with no way out. It may help stop the nightmares.

That’s what convinced me in the end.

As much as Tommy would try to tell us he was fine, his dreams told us otherwise. More often than not, we’d wake in the morning to find Tommy had crawled in bed between us or that he would be sitting in the rocking chair in Stella’s room. He never told us exactly what would happen, but we could tell.

I just wanted them to stop. I wanted my boy to be able to feel safe in this house. And if that was the only way to have it happen… I had to let it happen.

Tommy was thrilled with our verdict. Threw his arms around us in a huge hug and kissed our cheeks. I did my best to put on a happy front, but it was difficult. Sam could tell. Tommy could tell. Heck, I’m sure that even baby Stella could tell.

I was wrapped in another hug by Tommy and was pulled close to his chest while he buried his face in my hair.

“I’ll be alright baba… I promise.”

Liar.

My stomach was in knots the day he went to the prison. I woke up with enough time to see them off. I gave both of them extremely tight hugs, forcing them to promise me they would be safe before sending them off, telling them to be back in time for dinner.

I watched the two walk toward the horizon and stood there watching long after they disappeared from view. The thing that snapped me from my swell of anxiety and nerves was the sound of Stella crying.

I immediately jumped into action, closing the door and rushing toward her room. I carefully got her out of her crib and began our usual morning routine. “They’re going to be fine baby,” I cooed as I changed her, “They’re going to be just fine.”

I knew she couldn’t understand me. I knew I was saying that more to try and convince myself of that. Thinking if I said it out loud it would make it true… it wasn’t true.

The whole day I could help but worry. I tried to focus on Stella, on taking care of her, playing with her, making sure she was okay, but I found my thoughts drifting back to Tommy and Sam and the visit. I couldn’t help but wonder how it was going, if the two were safe.

The pit in my stomach deepened when our usual dinner time rolled around and there was no sign of the boys. I tried to contact one of them via communicator, but no response. I wasn’t surprised. The prison was so heavy laced with obsidian it was nearly impossible to get a signal in there. I watched with a heavy heart and a knotted stomach as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sky and still, no boys. Stella’s bedtime came and I was forced to put her down alone, Sam and Tommy still nowhere to be found.

I tried to remain calm. I sat on the couch and stared at the TV as a movie played. After a while, I realized my knee was bouncing like crazy and that I was halfway through the film but I had no idea what the hell was happening. I reached over and quickly shut off the TV. The black screen reflected the scene behind me, letting me see what was behind me.

I immediately jumped at the sight of my husband standing in the doorway behind me. My hand flew to my chest as my head whipped around to look at him. “Sam!” I exclaimed a bit breathless, using my free hand to push myself up from the couch to completely turn to him. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

Sam didn’t say anything. He only stared at me. That confused me. He usually rushes right for me, shouting hello, and wraps me in a hug and kisses me sweetly… Why is he just staring at me blankly? “Sam?” I questioned, taking a few steps forward toward him. He still didn’t move. Sam just stared. As I grew closer, I could see that his eyes were rimmed red and the usual light that filled his eyes was completely gone. It was really freaking me out. “What’s wrong?”

It was then I noticed that he had entered alone. Tommy hadn’t come in with him. That sent a fury of butterflies to stir in my stomach. “Sam? Where’s Tommy?”

That was the question that broke the dam.

I watched as Sam’s bottom lip began to quiver and a hushed sobbed echoed throughout the room. “I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered out, another sob escaping him. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s legs seemed to give out from under him, causing me to rush forward as my husband fell to his knees. I sunk down to my knees and quickly cupped his face, gently tilting his head to look at me.

Sobs were still falling from his lips as his eyes met mine. I rose my eyebrows at him, not wanting to rush him but still wanting to know what the hell was going on. I didn’t have to wait long for his gut wrenching words.

“You were right.”

It instantly clicked. I was right. That’s why Tommy wasn’t here. I was right. I was right to not want him to go. To not want him to see Dream. Something happened. Something bad happened. I was right.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I was too far. I failed him. I failed to protect him. I failed our son. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.”

Time seemed to stop at Sam’s words. Sam kept babbling words out through his sobs, but I became unable to hear him any longer. A loud ringing filled my ears and I watched as my own vision blurred.

He’s….

He’s dead….

Tommy…

Tommy is dead.

Dream… Dream killed him.

A gut wrenching sob ripped itself from your throat as you fully registered what your husband was telling you. Sam’s arms instantly reach out and wrap around you tightly, bringing you into his chest. Your hands fall from his cheeks onto his chest as you clutch his shirt, burying your face in him as you sob.

You’re not sure how long you’re there, kneeling on the floor sobbing. Slowly, and I mean slowly, but surely, your sobs die down until the only noise filling the room are soft sniffles.

“I was right,” you manage to croak out, pulling yourself away from your creeper hybrid husband to look up at him.

“You were right,” Sam echos, moving one of his hands to cup your cheek and tilting his head down to rest his forehead on yours.

You let out a watery laugh as you close your eyes tightly and relish in the gentle contact.

“God. I have never wanted to be wrong more in my entire life… I wish I wasn’t right.”

The next few days passed slowly. The sky seemed to be constantly dark and everything seemed gloomy. Even Stella was more somber, as if she could tell something was wrong. And she probably could. She had gone from spending almost every second with her older brother to not seeing him for days on end in the blink of an eye.

Sam still had to work. He had to force himself to go back to that damned prison with that bastard and listen to his taunting laughter through the cameras as he mocks the Warden’s pain. It takes everything in Sam to hold back and not barge into the cell and kill Dream himself. He knew that wouldn’t bring back Tommy and wouldn’t make him feel better, but even still.

The house seemed so quiet. Even with Stella babbling and cooing, the rooms had never felt more quiet and empty. I found myself searching for Tommy’s voice, his laughter, his whole presence everyday only to be disappointed when my search came up empty. I tried to play some of his favorite music discs, but tears would fill my eyes as I realized I would never hear him sing along to them and the silence that would have usually been filled by him babbling about the disc was too deafening for me to want to listen to them again.

The worst part, I found, was when Sam would get home. I was always happy to have my husband back. Always more than willing to hug and kiss him in a greeting. A welcome home. But everyday, I’d try to turn to greet Tommy two. I would be waiting for two blonds to appear in my home, even though I knew only one would be home. My heart would break over and over as I searched for the boy that I knew wouldn’t be there.

I let out a sigh as I finished up the last dish I had prepared for dinner. Sam should be home from work any minute now. I set the table, thr-- two places and the food in the middle, Stella in her high chair. Now all there was to do was wait for Sam.

As I finished up, I heard the front door open. “Honey! I’m home!” Sam’s voice called out. A soft smile placed itself on my lips as I turned around and made my way to the front door.

“Hey honey welcome--” The sentence died on my lips as my eyes met what was at my front door. My husband had not come home alone. Instead of the one blond that I had seen come home day after day, had been joined by another blond.

A familiar blond.

The blond I had spent the last several days missing and mourning.

Tommy.

“Tommy?” My voice croaked as my eyes met his icy blue ones.

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he gave me a soft smile, “Hi baba.”

A sob let my lips as I raced forward and wrapped my arms around the middle of the boy I call my son. His arms immediately wrapped around me as he pulled me tightly to him. His face turned down and buried in my hair as I nuzzled into his chest. My fingers clutched at his shirt that rested on his back, trying to prove to myself that he was here. That Tommy was back and actually here. Here in the flesh.

“How--How did you? Why are you? What the?” I babbled out, tilting my head up to try and look at him.

“We can talk about it later… For now I’d just like my parents to hold me.”

Another sob escaped my lips as I moved my head back to its original position. Sam’s strong arms wrapped around the two of us, pulling us close to him. Our little family was back together again. How? I don’t know. But I didn’t care. Tommy was back.

The sound of Tommy’s stomach rumbling broke up from the sweet moment. I let out a small laugh as I carefully pulled away from the hug. I let my hand come up and cup the boy’s cheek. “How about you go sit at the table? I’ll get another plate.”

He gave me a quick nod, leaning down and kissing my cheek before making his way to the table.

“STELLA!! I MISSED YOU!”

I laughed again and turned to my husband, giving him a smile. “He’s back?” I whispered the question, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“He’s back.” Sam confirmed, placing his hands on my hips, pulling me close to him. He then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, one I instantly returned. The kiss said it all. Tommy was back. Our family was back. We were whole once again. And I’m going to make sure that it stays that way.

That sucked. I’m sorry. But if you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like and maybe a reblog and comment telling me what you liked about it. Until next time!

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