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#so like yeah. there would be a whole chain of events that would be so so so different if regulus never got called that very first time
p0orbaby · 3 months
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For a Good a Time, Call…
summary: you send a nude to the wrong number, you don’t expect what happens next.
warnings: Leah, yeah that’s a warning, suggestive themes
a/n: one of my favourite of bits of writing ngl
word count: 2.1k
part 2 | part 3
-
You’ve never felt dread like it.
“Shit shit shit!” You repeat as you try and stop the message from sending.
The woosh and the delivered sign told you it had already been spat out into the ether. You want to leave the city. The country even. Perhaps fill the next available spot on a space shuttle.
All of the above possibilities rattle through your brain as you pull your t-shirt down from where it was hitched around your neck. Yank your shorts up from where they lay low on your hips.
“I’m dead. I am so dead!”
If your heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely was now.
Panic sets in as you contemplate the impending fallout. Terrible thoughts race through your mind, and you highly consider drafting an apology that somehow erases the embarrassment. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and groveling seems like the only viable option.
Could she get you benched? Maybe. Could she stop you from getting another international call up? You really fucking hoped not.
In the midst of your demise, you realise another sorry soul will have to bear the consequences of your actions. Bar Girl. The intended recipient of the half naked photo you signed, sealed and delivered to someone else.
You decide, rightly or not, that she has now become collateral damage. And the decision to ghost her emerges as a seemingly reasonable response.
The potential repercussions from your inadvertent exposure now cast a grim shadow on all aspects of your life, making abandoning Bar Girl a desperate attempt to shield yourself from further embarrassment.
The idea of changing your identity hovers temptingly in your periphery.
Desperation takes hold, and for a moment, you entertain the delusional thought that maybe you had imagined the whole debacle in some lustful daze. However, when a subtle movement on screen catches your attention, reality hands you a more damning blow – the weight of the situation crashes down as ‘read’ replaces the once-hopeful ‘delivered’.
Acknowledgement from Leah has shifted from a delivery confirmation to active viewing.
As if it had just set alight in your hands, you hurl your phone across the room. The reality sets in that there’s no turning back; the message, along with its aftermath, is now etched into the digital realm.
The room echoes with the crash of your phone meeting the wall. As the device lies discarded, its screen cracked, you’re left to face the reality that there’s no undoing the chain of events.
In a desperate release, you roll over and scream into your pillow until the muffled sound becomes an agonizing buzz in your ears.
-
The next day hits hard as you trudge into the changing room. You barely slept. Tossing and turning most of the night in an anxious bubble. And when exhaustion finally took over, your dreams were more like nightmares.
You were tempted to call in sick. But you decided that wallowing in your own despair would probably just make matters worse. So you settled on a compromise.
Avoid Leah at all costs.
Your hood hangs low over your face as you pass by several of your teammates and make a silent beeline for your cubby. But that may have piqued their interests more, as Beth finds herself invading the space you so desperately crave.
“You look rough. Bar Girl give you a run for your money?”
“Something like that” you grumble, hands making quick work of unpacking your bag.
She hums at you and smirks at how disheveled you look when your hoodie comes off. You know where her mind has gone, but you don’t try and dissuade her from writing an excuse for you.
“So, when are you going to make it official then? You’ve been talking for almost a month right?” Beth asks, her eyes flitting around your face and down your neck in search of marks left behind.
You offer a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure if I will. I’ve still got the feelers out” you reply, the words sounding awkward and detached even to your own ears.
Beth raises an eyebrow, you gather it’s not the response she expected. Especially from you.
“That doesn’t sound like you”
“No?”
“I thought you were all about the long game?”
You offer a half-smile, choosing your words carefully. “Opinions change, you know?” you reply, slipping your training kit over your head and turning away to fold your discarded clothes, hoping she’d get the point.
Beth studies you for a moment, her eyes searching for something beyond the surface. “Fair enough. Keep us posted though yeah? She seemed nice”
You wince at her words. Jesus, you felt like a bitch, but you nod anyway. It seems to do enough. When you hear her walk away, you release a breath.
“Oh” she voices unexpectedly behind you, and you immediately tense up again. “Leah’s asking for you”
You turn on your heels, spinning so fast you almost topple over. “Did she say what it was about?” You ask. You try not to seem nervous but the sweat above your brow is giving you away.
“No. Just that she wants you to meet her in the gym when you’re ready”
You nod again, and swallow hard. Your throat was dry and you felt like you could pass out. “Sure, yeah. I’ll head there in a second”
Beth eyes you again suspiciously but when she eventually turns and leaves the room, you’re left to grapple with your jitters in solitude
“Shit” you mutter to yourself. And as you stand there trying to regain yourself, it becomes very apparent that you don’t actually have a back up plan.
If you really do lose minutes on the pitch, your career could be on the line.
Conscious that you've already left her waiting too long, you dart out of the room with a newfound sense of urgency.
The corridors blur as you navigate the familiar path, the door to the gym looming larger with each stride. And when you get there you’re out of breath and clammy.
Is it weird to say you're grateful that a door handle is cold against your skin? Perhaps, but you are. It grounds you a little as you stand there panicking.
Taking a moment to collect yourself, you open the door and step into the gym at last. The air feels charged with anticipation as you brace yourself for a meeting that could have repercussions far beyond the boundaries of the training facility.
But Leah is nowhere to be found. The lights are all off and the room looks the same as it was left the day before.
Is Beth having you on? Or is Leah trying to mess you around, torture you until you break down and leave on your own accord.
Don’t be so silly. She wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“Hey”
You jump out of your skin as the silence is disrupted. You turn in fright and she’s lucky she’s so far away because you're a fighter, not a flighter, and you’re sure you would’ve punched her straight in the face.
“Why the hell are you hiding in the dark? You idiot!” you blurt out, the initial shock now giving way to frustration. The tables have turned, and you can’t help but question Leah’s peculiar choice of location for this conversation.
Leah lets out a short laugh. “Hiding? I wasn’t hiding. Just needed to grab a few things from the cupboard”. She lifts up her hands to showcase the foam rollers you deduce she was looking for.
“Beth said you wanted to talk”
“That’s right”
“Do I need to ask what it’s about?”
She laughs again and you start to lose your patience a little. She notices and glances at you with a more serious expression when you don’t look impressed, so she gestures for you to join her in a quieter corner of the gym.
“I get it; the suspense isn’t helping,” Leah admits, her tone softening. “But you’re not stupid. I think you know why I’ve called you in here”
As you follow her, Leah’s demeanor takes an unexpected turn. The serious expression gives way to a playful twinkle in her eye. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. Nudes, I mean,” she teases, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Nipple piercings too? You’ve been hiding some interesting secrets, haven’t you?”
Leah’s teasing catches you off guard, and your words stumble over each other as you stammer, “I, uh, well, it’s not—I mean, I didn’t…”
“Don’t get all nervous on me now” she says as she perches on the edge of a massage table. “You seemed pretty confident last night”
You attempt to salvage some dignity, but Leah’s mischievous grin suggests she’s thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. “I didn’t mean to send it to you. It was a mistake”
“No?” She pops her bottom lip out in a pout. “That’s a shame”
You feel a knot forming in your stomach, and your attempts to defend yourself only seem to fuel Leah’s amusement. “I-I…” you struggle to form a coherent response. And you silently curse yourself for not being able to hold your ground.
“If not me, then who?” She asks as if it’s any of her business. If you weren’t so stunned by the whole thing you’d have told her to fuck off. But the words don’t quite make it past your lips, and you find yourself at her mercy. “I won’t judge”
There’s a pregnant pause where you decide if you should tell her. Then with a reluctant sigh, you decide to reveal the truth. “Someone… a girl I met last month”
“Bar Girl” she deduces.
You were never really close to Leah. You played for the same teams, sure. But you never frequent the same social circles. Not really. So to find out she knows about what you get up to in your free time is a little jarring.
“Yeah, her,” you admit, feeling exposed in a way that extends beyond the painful fact she’s seen your tits.
“Hm” is all she says before she holds her hand out to you. And you take it without even thinking.
“You know” she starts. Settling you so your front is almost flush against hers as you stand between her legs. “I’ve always wondered what you’ve been hiding under that jersey of yours” she finishes, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Her fingers brushing your skin and setting it on fire.
“The same parts as you, I’m guessing”
“Funny”
“I do try”
There’s another lull, and in the silence you swear you can hear your heart beating.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her question is barely above a whisper.
You shake your head no. Because she isn’t making you uncomfortable. Confusing you, yes. Intriguing you, certainly. But uncomfortable? Not exactly.
Leah leans back slightly, studying your expression. “Good, wouldn’t want to cross any lines.” Her fingers continue to play with your hair, a casual touch that feels anything but.
“Lines can be subjective” you say, your eyes trained on hers as you watch her mouth pull into a smirk.
Where this new found confidence has come from you don’t know.
“Can they?” She questions. Her eyes glint as she tilts her head to the side. Is she mocking you?
“Sometimes”
She likes your answer, you think, despite the still of her hands in your hair. Because her expression shifts and she leans in, her gaze dropping to your mouth.
“Interesting,” she murmurs, untangling your hair from her fingers and brushing her thumb over your bottom lip. You catch a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she notices the blush deepening on your cheeks.
Without breaking her eyes from yours, Leah leans in just enough to tease. Close enough that you can feel each breath angst your skin. Far enough away that it’s infuriating. Then she pulls away, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation.
Then she’s gone.
You stand frozen while she unfurls herself away from you, sidestepping from the space she occupied between you and the massage table.
You only turn when she clears her throat behind you.
“Message me again sometime?”
The way she asked was softer than you expected. Softer than how she was talking to you for the last five minutes. It catches you off guard and a response gets stuck in your throat again.
You nod because that seems to be your default reaction to all of her questions. A smirk must be hers to you, because she flashes another one in your direction.
With that, she was gone. Leaving you alone in the dark with a skip in your pulse and two discarded foam rollers at your feet.
And a sneaking suspicion your spot for both club and country were going to be okay.
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harunayuuka2060 · 8 months
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Leona: *realizes that his aunt hasn't showed up for two whole weeks now*
Leona: ...
Leona: Ruggie?
Ruggie: Yeah?
Leona: We're not going to do anything important in school, right?
Ruggie: Huh... Nope. No events or anything for this month.
Leona: Good. We'll visit my aunt.
Ruggie: Really? Sweet! Is Jack coming along?
Leona: Yeah. And before we leave, buy something for her.
Ruggie: Like what?
Leona: I don't know. Anything's okay.
Ruggie: Alright.
Leona, Ruggie, and Jack: *have arrived to Aunt MC's palace*
Ruggie: Dang! This place is really huge!
Leona: Don't get lost.
Jack: Why are we here by the way?
Ruggie: Leona's worried for his aunt.
Leona: Tch. Don't be ridiculou—
The palace servant: Prince Leona? *approaches him and bows*
The palace servant: Greetings, Her Majesty is in her chamber right now.
Leona: ...
Leona: Is she alright?
The palace servant: I would advise that you see her yourself, Your Royal Highness.
Leona: ...
Leona: Okay. You can go now.
The palace servant: *takes her leave*
Ruggie: I think she's ill.
Jack: But she looked healthy two weeks ago.
Leona: Let's not discuss that.
Aunt MC: *cheerful* Leona! My dear nephew!
Leona: *sigh in relief* Good. You look fine.
Aunt MC: What's with the sudden visit? Are you here to take your throne now? Auntie will be delighted!
Leona: Don't be silly. I was just wondering what happened to you these past few weeks.
Aunt MC: *sigh* I was doing my usual routine when I suddenly felt nauseous and my doctors wouldn't allow me to leave the palace.
Aunt MC: Now your aunt is so bored of being bedridden.
Leona: If you're bored, then we should go out.
Aunt MC: Okay~. Let me just remove these shackles real quick.
Leona, Ruggie, and Jack: !!!
The palace servant: *standing next to them* Her Majesty tried escaping so the doctors didn't have any choice but to chained her up to her bed.
Aunt MC: You were all lucky that I was feeling weak.
Ruggie: You're one, stubborn queen, ma'am.
Jack: Just like Leona-senpai.
Leona: ...
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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months
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Saw that requests are closed but I'm itching to share one scenario. He's a playboy & party animal. She shows up at his party. He's immediately interested. Trying to seduce her but she's tough. At some point she makes a comment about his last race. Then he finds out that she knows a whole lot about racing. People tell him that she got dumped by another playboy who she met at illegal street racing event when they both participated. Now she despise all the playboys but the F1 driver takes it as a challenge to prove that he's way better than her ex. Idk with who. Maybe Gasly? I'm just horny for that man
Playboy || PG10 {1}
Pairings: Pierre Gasly x mechanic!fem!reader Warnings: bad language, alcohol, violence WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two
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Pierre slapped Charles' chest as he draped an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Who’s that?” He pointed a ringed finger to the dance floor where you were dancing alone, eyes closed and hips swaying sensually to the beat. 
Charles laughed and shook his head as he saw who Pierre was looking at. “Don’t bother, mate. She’s not interested.”
Pierre watched you start to sashay your way to the bar with an empty glass and swallowed the last mouthful of his own drink. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before following your path.
“Hennessy on the rocks,” you ordered above the music. You probably should have mixed it with something but you weren’t in the right state of mind to think about the consequences. You only wanted to get drunk fast.
“Make that two,” Pierre said as he stepped into the narrow space beside you, half his body pressing against yours. “Put ‘em on my tab.”
You dragged your eyes over the man and knew his type in an instant. Self-assured and cocky, the top buttons of his shirt hanging open to show the sun-kissed skin beneath. Yeah, you didn’t need another guy like him in your life. “I can get my own drink, thanks.”
“An independent woman, I can appreciate the sentiment,” he said with a smirk that promised a whole lot of fun between the sheets. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you Beautiful.”
“Wow, does that line actually get you laid?“
“Ask me again in the morning.”
You grabbed your drink from the bar top and turned your back as you rolled your eyes, making your way through the crowd to lose yourself in the music once more. When you chose your spot in the midst of the other dancers you weren’t expecting to feel an arm curl around your waist, or to see that it belonged to Pierre. Most men knew to keep away.
“You must have hit your head pretty hard when you crashed last weekend,” you said as you looked down at his hand splayed across your abdomen. Rings adorned his fingers and thick veins popped along his muscled forearm before disappearing under his rolled up sleeves. “Or, you’re just not very bright.”
“So you know who I am,” he chuckled in your ear and you tipped your head back to meet his eyes.
“So you don’t know who I am.” Your laugh was taunting and you hoped it would send him off with his tail between his legs but he seemed to be even more intrigued. “I’ve been with guys like you, Gasly. Playboys with fast cars only want a pretty face in the passenger seat, and that just doesn’t do it for me.”
“Then what does?”
His lips were only an inch from yours and you realised your bodies were still moving to the beat, his chest flush with your back. Turning to face him, you planted your palm in the centre of his chest and felt a chain of a necklace tucked under his shirt.
“You’ll never know,” you whispered as your breath kissed the shell of his ear before pushing him away. “Goodnight, Pierre.”
“À bientôt, Beautiful,” he replied with a smirk as he held his drink up. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I told you so.” Charles had watched his friend leave the dancefloor alone and shook his head when Pierre arrived back at his side. “Not. Interested.”
“That one was feisty, but I would argue she was very much interested.” Pierre took a sip of his drinked and inhaled sharply at the burn of the straight alcohol. “Jesus,” he coughed before stealing Charles’ cocktail. When his chest was no longer on fire, and the taste was washed away with the fruity mix, he jutted his head in your direction. “So, what’s her deal?”
Charles sighed, knowing Pierre wouldn’t give up until he knew everything about you and your past. It was the past that you were trying to forget as you ordered another drink and slapped away the wandering hands of men foolish enough to think they could take you home.
“To start with, that’s Leo’s ex you were grinding with.”
“From Street Kings?” Pierre’s eyebrows raised when Charles confirmed it with a nod. The Street Kings were well known in Monte-Carlo for dominating the illegal race scene along the Côte d’Azur and Leo was their top driver. The only thing the Street King was known to treasure more than his car was his Queen. “Shit. What happened?”
Charles shrugged. He was as clueless to the information as Pierre though there were certainly rumours whispered in the streets. The Street Kings were like a family and they kept their business close to their chests, all he knew was that you were no longer welcome in their home.
“She’s trouble, that’s all I’ll say.”
The heat of the bodies packed close on the dance floor became suffocating so you stepped out into the balcony. The fresh sea air filled your lungs and the cool breeze tousled your hair, making the moment almost peaceful. That was all ruined when a hand roughly palmed your ass before squeezing it and you placed your glass on the tabletop.
“Remove your hand before I break it.”
“Don’t be like that, baby,” the man said, his hands still on your ass. “Good girls don’t dance like that unless they want to be touched.”
You turned and tilted your head with a flirty smile that had the guy’s ego inflating even more. His hand came to rest on your hips and you caught Pierre’s eyes from across the room. “You're wrong, I’m not a good girl.”
He licked his lips and looked like he had won the lottery. “It’s my lucky night.”
A soft laugh passed your lips as you reached up and tucked a strand of his bleached blond hair behind his ear. His hands slipped lower to the hem on your short dress as he grew bolder and you rose on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Wrong again.”
You hated to be reminded of Leo, but you used a move that had taught you for self defence. You trailed your hand down his arm as if you were admiring his biceps before reaching his wrist. Turning with your whole body, you stepped back and twisted his wrist in one fluid movement. It was over in a second but the shock lasted longer as the man stared at his limp hand before realisation hit him and his lips parted before he screamed at the pain.
Walking away, you gave him one last glance over your shoulder. “I warned you.”
“See,” Charles said with a shake of his head. “Trouble.”
Pierre laughed to himself and watched you cross the room like you hadn’t just completely ruined the man. “Like I said, she was interested.”
“You, my friend, are a sucker for pain.” Charles sighed at the determined look in Pierre’s eyes and clapped him on the back. “Bonne chance.”
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You were still nursing a hangover when you rolled up to work five minutes late on Monday morning. The guys in the garage knew to keep their distance the moment they spotted you arrive with dark sunglasses over your red eyes and an extra large coffee in your hand. They had been on the wrong side of your bad moods before and didn’t want to be there again. 
“Charles’ bringing his car in. He asked for you specifically,” Giorgio said after he waited for you to finish your coffee and deemed it safe to approach. “I told him it would void the warranty but he still wants you to service it.”
“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust those Ferrari mechanics to service a scooter, they obviously don’t give two shits about how his car runs, as we have seen.”
“Did you see him at the party? Was he there?” 
You rolled your eyes as it only took 30 seconds before he wanted to hear the gossip. “Of course he was there but, before you ask, I didn’t talk to him.”
“Seriously? What a waste! If you’d’ve taken me…”
“Boo-hoo…You can embarrass yourself fangirling over Pretty Boy when he gets here.” You sent him away with a wave of your hand and grabbed your oil stained work shirt from your locker as the roar of a V8 filled the garage. Leaving the staff room, shirt in hand, you went to meet him and found a dark blue Aston Martin Vantage pulling in behind the black Ferrari 488 Pista. 
The pair of sports cars parked side by side and you rolled your eyes when you saw who was climbing out of the Vantage. Pierre looked good in a casual white linen shirt, the buttons opened once again, and he tucked a pair of Ray Bans into the deep V of the shirt as he walked to the front of his car and leaned back on the hood. The only difference between his look on Saturday and now was the cocky attitude had been replaced with confusion.
“Hello Trouble,” Charles greeted warmly, twirling his car key around his index finger. He leaned in and kissed your cheeks before waving a hand to his friend. “I believe you two met already.”
“Hi Beautiful,” Pierre said with a smile as he managed to recover from his surprise. 
“Playboy,” you nodded before turning your attention to Charles. “The usual, Pretty Boy, or do you have some concerns?”
“You two know each other?” You could hear the accusation in Pierre’s voice and the devil on your shoulder started to whisper in your ear.
You chuckled as you looked at your steel cap boots and kicked the loose stones on the asphalt. “It’s a small city, our paths have been known to cross on the odd occasion.”
“She’s one of the best mechanics around here,” Charles added.
“Ouch! Only one of? Last time you said I was the best you’ve ever had.”
“Is that right, Pretty Boy?” Pierre asked before running his tongue over his teeth and pursing his lips together.
“Working on my cars,” Charles clarified as his cheeks turned pink.
“He keeps it so clean under his hood,” you teased as you licked your lips seductively and gave him a wink that deepened the shade of his blush. “It’s always a pleasure to get up close and personal.”
You laughed as Charles whined your name before sending a pleading look to his friend. “And that’s why everyone calls her Trouble.”
“Trouble by nature, Trouble by name,” you said as you gave him a mocking bow. “So, standard service or…?”
Both men seemed relieved to have the topic return to something safe as Charles answered, “Just the standard service.”
“Perfect, but I hope that’s not your ride home,” you said as you pointed to the Vantage.
“Why not?” Pierre asked as his palm came to rest protectively on the warm hood.
“Did you seriously not hear it?” Your brows pinched together and you scanned their faces to see if they were messing with you. As a mechanic, it would be negligent to let a car leave your garage running anything but perfectly so you sighed and pointed to the driver’s seat. “Start your car, Playboy, and pop the hood.”
Pierre unlocked the hood and you found the latch to release it, lifting it up as he turned the engine over. He left it idling as he joined you at the front and you looked down at your graphic T, not wanting to ruin it. 
“Hold this.” You shoved your work shirt into his hand before pulling your top off. You had been around the garage guys long enough that working in a sports bra didn’t even earn a second glance but Pierre wasn’t one of your colleagues and he couldn’t stop staring. “Eyes up here, Playboy.”
That cocky smile of his finally made an appearance as you took your work shirt back and tossed the graphic T at his face. “What?” he asked innocently.
Rolling your eyes, you leaned over the engine and tipped your head to one side. “What do you hear?”
Pierre looked at Charles who just shrugged. “An engine?”
“Gold star for you,” you murmured as you watched the manifold vibrate. “See that? Yeeaah, it really shouldn’t be doing that.”
Pierre joined you in leaning over the engine and a gold cross necklace swung out from beneath his shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”
You chewed on your bottom lip as you mentally ran through the possibilities in your head. “It’s a misfiring cylinder, but there could be…half a dozen reasons why. Let me get my scanner, unless you have somewhere to be?”
“Nothing I can’t miss,” Pierre smirked as he settled against his car and rolled his sleeves up. “Charles can bring his car back another day, right, Pretty boy?”
“Please don’t call me that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Trouble, and leave you two to your date. Don’t expect him to actually help, he just got a manicure.”
Pierre laughed at the good-natured banter and looked at his neatly trimmed nails before winking at you. “I don’t mind getting my fingers dirty.”
There was always a nervousness that settled in when someone watched you work. It didn’t matter that you could take an engine apart and put it back together, the moment an owner started paying attention to your work, your palms would turn clammy. 
That didn’t happen with Pierre. 
After Charles departed you had driven the Aston Martin into one of the empty bays and grabbed your scanner, plugging it into the ECU as Pierre let his curiosity spill forth.
“How did you get into all this?”
“Same way you got into racing, I should think.”
“Your father?”
“He used to own this place,” you pointed to his name on your shirt, the same name on the signage of the shop. “I grew up here. Always thought I would own it one day.”
You tried not to dwell on the thought that had escaped and instead focused on the diagnostic software as it ran its cycle. Clearing the lump in your throat, you checked the readings on your laptop but Pierre had caught the change in your tone.
“What’s stopping you?”
You looked up from where you were crouched beside the front seat reading the data and cocked an eyebrow. “Despite what Pretty Boy says, this isn’t a date, it’s a job. So, unless you have questions about your car, please shut the fuck up.”
He didn’t even appear taken aback by the acerbic words as he leaned against the car with his arms folded comfortably across his chest. “Fine by me, Friday night works out better for me anyway.”
“What are you on about?” You stood up and went to the tools, grabbing a wrench before heading to the open bonnet.
“Our date,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world and followed close behind. “You know, dinner, drinks, personal questions.”
You paused from loosening the bolts that held down the protective covers around the manifold and pointed the wrench his way. “Yeah, you lost me at ‘personal’.”
He smirked and wrapped his hand around the end, giving it a tug and pulling you closer as you refused to ease your grip. You stumbled into his chest and your free hand grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, smearing black grease over his white shirt. “Then I’ll settle for dinner and drinks.”
You swallowed at the closeness and tore your eyes away from his lips to fall into the trance of his eyes instead. “I’m not interested, Playboy.”
His smirk only grew and his laugh tickled your cheek as he dipped his head to whisper, “If that were true you would have broken my hand.”
“Don’t tempt me,” you whispered back before sighing. “You’re not going to let this go are you?”
“Not a chance, Beautiful.” Pierre brushed his lips over your cheek and your stomach did a little flip. “You better think of something else to call me, because I’m going to show you I’m not a playboy.”
“You might prefer Playboy when you hear the back ups I have,” you snickered. “Should I go alphabetically? A is for asshole, B is for b-”
“Boyfriend. No way, that’s what I was thinking too.” He grinned and it was infectious. “We’re already finishing each other's sentences.”
“You’re a bastard,” you said with a laugh before realising you were still standing chest to chest with him and took a step back. “You have one chance, one date, that’s it.”
He let go of the wrench and clutched his cross necklace to kiss it like his prayer had been answered. “That’s all I need.”
“Now can I please fix your car?” you asked with a huff that didn’t hold any of the annoyance you pretended to have. “You can’t pick me up in a car that’s not firing on all cylinders, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“I thought your reputation was breaking hands,” he teased.
“It’s actually breaking balls, you just caught me on a bad night.”
He winced and cupped himself as you chuckled and turned back to the car. “That was a joke right?”
You didn’t give him an answer as you held your closed fist out to him. “Hold these.”
“What are they?” he asked as he came closer to take them.
“Your nuts.” You unfurled your fist and laughed as he saw what you had removed with the wrench. “If I find out you are a playboy…consider this your warning.”
Click here for part two.
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Imagine being one of the Roman soldiers though. Imagine having to do what you thought would be a normal execution one day.
Three convicts, two of which are thieves. As for the third… I mean, yeah some people say this guy is the “messiah” (whatever that means, you’re no Jew) and there is talk of miracles and the religious nuts really seem to hate him, but you have him nailed to a cross all the same, so what? If he is a god then he can join the club; Caesar knows that the Romans have enough gods to fill their pantheon and then some. Most likely he’s just a man with some hefty delusions that cost him his life.
But then earthquakes happen. Weird but can be written off as chance, right? Then the sky goes dark midday. A blood moon rises.
That ain’t normal.
Feelings unlike anything you’ve ever felt arise in your gut. The man cries out with a loud voice “It is finished!” and dies immediately after. You shiver. Uncanny, that is.
“Surely this Man is the Son of God,” a fellow Soldier exclaims beside you. At this point you might agree, but the spear still pierces through his skin all the same and you think (hope) that whoever this God-Man was that he isn’t your problem anymore, seeing as he’s dead. Hopefully you can forget the whole thing. (Somehow you feel that this scene will haunt you for a long time)
But the debacle is not over with the burial, as you had assumed. The religious nuts get real anxious and noisy, so to shut them up Pilot has a watch set to guard the body of a dead man. A dead man.
You personally have seen many dead men in your time, but never have you seen one move. Never have you seem or heard of people particularly wanting to touch dead bodies, either. You almost say as such when you are one of the men assigned the last watch, but decide you’d rather like to keep your tongue than chance losing it. You expect it to be rather a boring job, all told.
And it is. Until these, these beings of light and lightening descend on top of you from the Heavens and the last thing you can think before you know no more is whatever god whose body I’ve been guarding please spare me
You wake up, despite all your expectations to the contrary. You almost wonder if it would have been better if you died.
Those religious nuts come to you and your fellow guards and give you some coin along with a fake story to tell. They offer to save the skin off your back so you are not put to death like others who’ve been killed for less. You go along with the story because to be honest there is still a part of you that hopes this was all a dream. But the borrowed words taste like ash in your mouth and the coins jingle in your pockets with all the weight of a chain.
You go through the rest of the day (and night, and the day and night) after the event in a haze. Your feet walk where you know not and you don’t care to correct them.
But then you see Him.
The same Man you saw die.
The same Man whose body you guarded.
This Son of God, in the flesh, you see stand in front of a crowd with your own two eyes and you can scarce believe it but all the same you know more than you’ve ever known anything before that this is real, that this Jesus is truly not just a god, but The God.
And so you decide to follow Him.
Just imagine that for a minute.
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itsgodepi · 3 months
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If I lose my mind | Ch. 8
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Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 5.4 k Also on AO3
“Your things arrived a few days ago, the... uh, what’s it called in English? The portier?” Charles questions with furrowed brows, repeating the French word once again, much slower and carefully, so you can have a fair try at guessing its meaning 
It takes you a second to give a meaning to what he is trying to say, “Is it like the one that manages the building, kind of?”, the exact word he refers to not coming to mind no matter how much you try. Your mental dictionary is running a bit low after everything went down today. 
“Yeah, that’s it” he smiles at you over his shoulder, leading you out of the elevator and into a small corridor. The suitcase’s wheels clattering across the black tiles, following your path to one of the apartments’ doors, number 7 “What, you know French now?” 
“No, no, I wish” you laugh, shaking your head at the possibility that you would ever understand any other word in that language “It just sounds similar to the word in Spanish, portero”  
Charles opens the door before answering, a sight that leaves you open-mouthed being discovered before you. You do not know in what to focus first, if the sight of the tall buildings and the port drawn out in the floor to ceiling windows or the expensive looking furniture that decorates the rest of the room “Well, you’ve come to the best place to learn”
Because yes, you have in fact encountered the perfect opportunity to learn the language. After all you'll be living in Monaco for at least ten days before going back to the crazy life of a Formula One driver. That is enough time to grasp a bit of French or drive yourself crazy, we’ll see which one of the two comes first.
Your morning had started with a chain of events that leaned more towards the second option. You had woken up in the late morning, the warmth of the soft bedsheets and the darkness provided by the thick curtains almost fooling you into believing you had finally escaped this bizarre dream, that you were back home, and your alarm was pushing you out of bed for your practices. There would be an awful day ahead of you, but at least a real one. 
But that hope was short lived. 
Instead of your alarm, that ringing noise turns out to be coming from the hotel’s phone, a man on the other line animatedly informing you that this is your wakeup call and to have a great day when you pick it up. Apparently, Nick had been the one to request the service, sceptic that you would make it in time to the airport without him nagging you about it. The exact same reason why he had prepared for a car to be waiting outside for you at least an hour before, just in case. 
Charles and Carlos are already waiting when you arrive to Budapest’s airport, inside a very expensive looking waiting room that hosts only the few people travelling alongside you. Yeah, it seems like flying private actually means flying private, with all the special commodities that brings. However, it also means that the first time you hear what country you are heading to is when you are strapped down to your seat and about to take off. Monaco seems alright, doesn’t it? 
“He called me like, right before FP2, back in France, because a couple of suitcases had arrived for me.” Charles continues recounting the events of last Friday, inviting you in and taking the heavy bag that you insisted on carrying from you “I wasn’t expecting anything, so I almost turned them all away, all your luggage for the break! Seriously, you have to text me or something next time you send your things over...” 
Mindlessly, you give in to his nagging and apologise for not warning him beforehand “Sorry, my mind’s been all over the place lately”, even if you have no idea what those things he is complaining about are or what that implication for a next time actually means. It is easier this way. 
Charles seems to perfectly understand what you are saying, the confession about the hardships you have been facing holding a deeper meaning for him than you could ever fathom “I know, it��s okay”, but he does not even know half of what you are going through  
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After weeks upon weeks of waking up alone in a cold and unfamiliar hotel room —what little belongings you have pushed to a corner and some clothes thrown over a chair—, it is not surprising that the sight of Charles Leclerc sleepily going through the kitchen’s cabinets makes you feel all warm inside. The man is wearing a white baggy shirt and blue shorts, his hair a mess and lips pursed in concentration. 
He turns around as soon as he hears you padding through the corridor, a grin slowly taking over his expression “Good morning! Did you sleep well? I didn’t wake you up, did I?” 
“No no, it’s alright, I’ve been up for a while” you calm him down, walking up to the countertop and awkwardly leaning on it. Unlike him, you are already dressed up and pretty clear-headed, you never know what your mind is going to put you through in this new day. Your room is pretty far apart from the kitchen and his room too, there is no way you could have heard him with how huge huge his apartment is “And you? How did you sleep?” 
“Great, it always feels nice being back home” Charles prepares the rest of the breakfast while you chat away, inviting you to sit on one of the highchairs at the other side of the countertop when you do so much as try to help him fix the dishes. He somehow knows exactly what to prepare for you, his plate and yours starkly different and yet he is not doubting a single one of his choices, as if he had done it a thousand times. 
“So, what do you want to do today? I have to make a few calls but, after that, I’m all ready to go” the man explains, finally pouring himself a cup of coffee and coming to sit beside you. In response you can only give a shrug of your shoulders while you munch on the toast Charles so carefully prepared, you have no idea what is there to visit in Monaco. Thankfully, Charles has given the trip some though —well, he was bringing you to his literal hometown, how could he not?—, and in a second has your day all planned out. 
The conferences take longer than expected, the driver coming to apologise over and over again when he has to shut himself off into his improvised office for another ‘final’ call. That is how the hours keep ticking by and you end up also having lunch at his apartment. “This is the last one, I promise” he swears after you both get up from the table, the leftover of two delicious dishes which appeared out of thin air, still in front of you. 
You are not upset about it, not that much at least, you can understand this is his job and he needs to be on top of all these interviews and meetings —you only got a couple emails to respond and a call from Nick, but you guess this is what being in a team like Ferrari really is. Nonetheless, it does not mean it doesn’t annoy you a bit, you really had been looking forward to all the activities he had been talking to you about. Charles managed to distract you easily enough though, got you some Netflix, games and food so it all would pass in the blink of an eye. 
“Oh, sixteen? That’s yours?!” you gasp, a bounce added to your step as you approach the red Formula One car placed at the entrance of the new room. The centre of your attention in a space filled with cars from every single year and brand you could ever imagine, the mirrors on the sides and covering the ceilings giving you all of the perspective of the machine. 
“Of course it is, you didn’t know it was here?” Charles lets out a chuckle at your outburst, a grin now permanent on his lips as he follows you. The visit to the Prince of Monaco’s Car Collection had been worth it just for the look on your face, the fact that they kindly closed it for the two of you only adding an increased value to your reaction “They have the Alfa Romeo too” 
Although you could discover what the Alfa Romeo thing meant if you moved your gaze a little bit to the left, you seemingly prefer to overlook that piece of information instead, completely entranced by the car in front of you “It looks so different...” 
Possibly because everything around you is, indeed, different. After all, this is the first time you have had the opportunity to take step back and see the small details, away from the stress of the garage or the screams shaking the stands. That kind of atmosphere though, is irreplicable, the wave of emotions that fill your body as soon as you set foot into the circuit. Real or not, that is something you haven’t been able to get out of your head since this madness started.  
You are unbelievable, seriously, after only two days of the break you are somehow already missing the track? Who could have told you that a month ago Wait, a month-?  
“Does it? They have been making a lot of changes in the regulations lately, maybe...” Charles mumbles by your side, eyes ever so carefully looking over the car, and leaning over one of the signs on the ground, a half-smile pulling at his lips when he reads it “Oh, true, it’s the SF90! Oh my God, this one... Honestly, it wasn’t that bad of a year, I won a couple races too, but the car had so many problems. When it wasn’t the new tyres, it was the balance, then the understeering was awful at some point as well... It was just impossible to beat the Mercedes”  
To finish off his explanation, Charles dismissively points with a tilt of his head to one of the Formula One cars sitting farther down the room, a Mercedes from who knows what year. Whatever, it illustrates his story just fine. Besides, this movement also allows for him to catch a peek of you from the corner of his eye, a big grin on your lips that you try to cover with a raised hand “Wait, are you laughing at me?” 
“No! Of course not, I was just-” you splutter, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights “It’s ‘cause you were, how do you say it? Like really into it? Contrated? I don’t know, I’m sorry!”  
“No, no, I’m not telling you anything anymore! Go on, I’ll be quiet” Charles declares, not hearing you and acting so very much offended that you would be making fun of him. To better show his point, he starts stepping back and rises his arms to put some space between the two of you. 
That is when you cannot hold you giggles anymore, the fact that he is trying to even avoid your eyes while you follow him “No, don’t say that, I promise I won’t laugh” you swear, taking a hold of his arm to stop him from walking away from you “C’mon, you’re the best tour guide!” 
And maybe Charles takes that praise as a challenge, green eyes shining and cheeks full with a smile which he can’t supress no matter how hard he tries. Throughout the next few days, the Monegasque shows you the most beautiful spots of the city that saw him grow up —albeit on an intermittent basis, as he recounts the numerous trips he’s had to go on since he was a child—, a city that he adores and misses like no other. From the more touristic sites, the timetables of which he knows from A to Z and to which he has prepared private visits for each one of them, to the places that have a special place in his heart.  
All of this without letting you pay a single dime, getting rejected each time you do so much as try to get your purse out, the little money you have gathered in your time in here resting inside without any prospects of ever getting spent. 
It is a shame that when you are heading to one of the spots Charles has been looking forward to the most, you are caught red-handed. At first it is not as worrisome, a French fan approaches Charles for a photo and you politely step out of the way to let them take it, which catches the attention of a nearby couple that take this opportunity to ask you for a selfie —yeah, it still feels strange, even inside a dream. Maybe the husband talks a bit louder than needed about how surprised he is to see you here, or how happy he gets the moment Charles comes over to you, but after a couple of minutes you are being mobbed by half the people in Monaco. Flashes, screams and hands flying everywhere. 
“It’s been a while since I last had to be rescued by the police...” Charles signs once he finally plops down on the sofa, changed into comfier clothes and the TV remote on his hand 
You silently sort out the food on the small coffee table, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened, nerves tingling with the range of emotions this all brought up. It is not fear, that is something you seem to have somewhat become numb to, but something deeper. That is not something that had happened to you before, people are usually behind barriers on Grand Prixes, or they have someone better to pay attention to. This had felt truly overwhelming, suffocating even. 
And yet, there it is, your lifeline. Again. 
Charles’ hand comes to caress your hair after you spend a second too long in silence, hands tracing your strands as he brushes them away from your face, hand finally descending down to your neck and lightly massaging it. He had done something similar in the middle of that chaos, his hand on your arm, shoulder or back drawing tiny circles on your skin, a permanent hold that was supposed to prevent you from getting separated, but which had done so much more. “That smells great” the man whispers, leaning forward since you had chosen to knee in front of the couch. 
The frown you didn’t feel forming relaxes as you look back at him, the thoughts previously swarming your head now vanished “Mm, yeah, it’s really tasty” 
“What?! You’ve been stealing food while I was changing?” the Monegasque rightly accuses, disbelief painting his features 
“You were taking so long!”  
Charles seems to also know his way around the restaurants of Monaco, the stack of takeout you thought was way too much for two people ends up disappearing within minutes, the great amount of food you consumed leaving you to lazily lay on the couch, bellies full and watching TV after a night that had to be cut short. 
The show you are watching is entertaining, you will give Charles that one, you have already gone through two and a half episodes and you can’t wait to see what happens next. It would have been even more amazing to not start it on season 3 though. It is true that Charles had started his offer to play it with a “Do you want to continue watching whatever-the-name-of-the-series-is?” and you had seen him scrolling all the way to the fourth episode of that same season without saying a word as well, but you had got accustomed to brush off things like this, like every other information from this reality that you don’t understand.  
You nod and carry on with your ‘life’, that has been your modus operandi since the beginning, why change?  
Thankfully, Charles gives you small explanations in the form of funny comments on every other scene, and although you don’t understand some of them, you laugh them off like anybody would do if he was looking at them the same way he does with you.  
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question at some point of the night, eyes fixed on the screen as if that could hide any of the unrecognizable feelings boiling within you  
A chuckle slips out of his lips before he can begin answering, not fazed even slightly by your claim “You’re still so obsessed with the theme song...” Charles also meets your gaze straight on the moment you finally gather the courage to do so, not shying away from the way your big eyes stare at him “It’s cute” 
A confession that catches you off-guard and to which your response is to smile and carry on, snuggling under a blanket which has made you slip that much closer to Charles. Summer nights in Monaco are cold.
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About halfway into your vacation, Charles presents you with a different type of plan for the day “I’m going out with my mother and Arthur in a couple of hours... do you maybe want to come?” the way his green eyes look up at you in expectation betray his previous show of confidence, his gaze lowering to the toasts he is preparing. 
The invite makes you stop in your track, hand half-way in the air with a piece of fruit you had tried to steal from one of the dishes. Honestly, from all the challenges you had expected this universe to throw at you today, not once would you have imagined that having lunch with Charles Lecler’s mom would be one of them, that’s for sure. 
“Oh, your mother knows I’m here?” it is the stupidest question you could make, you are aware of it, but this seems so out of the blue —yes, you have apparently reached the point where jumping into a Formula One car feels more ordinary than whatever this is. But it’s because, like, you aren’t this close, are you? Yes, you flew with him, you are spending the break in his apartment, he has prepared your breakfast every single day, but- 
“That you are staying here? Yeah, of course she knows” Charles answers, matter of fact, as if it was no big deal “But it’s okay, I know you get nervous with things like these, I can tell her you have a meeting or something” 
Perhaps if the man had not been so understanding and given you such an easy way out, you would have accepted the outing, what is the worst that could have happened? That his mom was a wonderful person who had spent hours baking a typical pastry to gift you? If you had not felt bad enough this morning when declining Charles’ offer, now you sure were feeling like the worst person to ever walk on earth. Safe to say you almost tear up when you read the note she left you on the box: Enjoy your stay, my dear. I hope we’ll see each other soon. More so when his sons reveals he had to help her write it in English. 
You miss your family that much more now, if that was possible. 
Unfortunately, you do not encounter any other opportunity to meet Charles’ mother, the days flowing past you faster than you could have imagined. Charles has surprised you with organized trips to other cities near Monaco, from both Italy and France, every new sight he shows you more breathtaking than the last. The fact that this man, a Formula One driver for Ferrari nothing less, is swimming in money, taking the sweet little activities you had thought about to a whole other level.  
Nonetheless, spending a bit more also becomes a need when you are trying to keep a low profile, neither of you want a repeat of what happened in Montecarlo —for more reasons than because it is dangerous. Which means that booking private terraces to watch the view is sometimes required, other times you get a tour through a closed section of the museum solely because they recognized him, or you, which is still something you are struggling to come to terms with, but you can’t complain. 
Tonight, to properly finish off your stay in the country, Charles has invited you out to a fancy restaurant. It is built in the outskirts of Monaco, a place where the waves of the ocean are louder than the noises of the city. You get seated in open space that overlooks the sea, the quiet and elegant atmosphere of the place captivating you. You are thankful to whoever had prepared those suitcases which arrived at the apartment before you even knew you were visiting, because the black satin dress that was waiting for you inside one of them, is the perfect fit for the occasion. 
The hunt for the perfect outfit had also brought a discovery that you couldn’t quite believe yet. Inside a white jewellery box that you had been carrying since the beginning and that you had not cared to open until today, you had found one of the most important pieces you ever owned, one you had been missing dearly: your grandmother’s favourite necklace. It had been a gift given to you many years ago, your grandmother’s promises of how it would make your wishes come true and protect you still echoing in your ears. Upon its discovery, you heart had skipped several beats, your hand snatching it from the box faster than you could think about it to bring it close to your chest, a place where it now proudly rested and that it would not ever leave again.  
The only piece of a reality which appears evermore distant and unreachable each passing day. 
The dinner is spent chatting away and tasting delicious dishes that you cannot pronounce the name of, your knight in shining armour —in this case, a navy-blue suit that fits him like a glove— saving you time and time again from embarrassing yourself trying. That gesture in itself being a blessing in disguise. It is fascinating watching Charles talk in French, sounding ever so charming speaking words you do not understand, his voice and demeanour changing when talking in his mother tongue. You have not learned a word in French, but if the hours you have spent staring at Charles talking counted, you would have the highest level. 
That is some of the nonsense you keep thinking about in the way back to the apartment, your body comfortably relaxing back into the passenger seat of his Ferrari while the city lights keep flowing by your sides. The Monegasque takes his hand off the gearstick after reaching a red light, resting it atop your knee and gently squeezing it when you don’t peel your eyes off the window. 
“Sleepy?” he queries in a soft voice, amused. 
You shake your head in response, the “No” slipping from your lips too low to even hear it yourself. Your hand reflexively comes down to wrap around his in reassurance, an act which only manages to further confirm his suspicions. 
Charles walks to your side to help you out of the car, the excuse of being sleepy —although the expensive wine and your high heels are playing a big role in your clumsy walk— useful enough for you to hold onto his arm in the way up to his apartment. The silence is nice too, calming despite the fact that it is hiding so many thoughts behind. 
“So, did you have fun?” Charles is the first one to speak once you reach the parting point, even if it is only the middle of his living room and there is still time tomorrow before he takes you to the airport, it feels more important than that 
“Yeah, I did, a lot. Thank you, Charles, for everything” you respond, the words coming straight from your heart, you are grateful for not only the material part of this vacation, but for how comfortable he has made you feel in this unknown reality. The man has truly made of your trip to Monaco an unforgettable experience, a memory that you will forever cherish. You hope he understand that. 
Although he tries to downplay it, say how much of a good time he has had thanks to you and all of that, you are quick to shush him, repeating your thanks and not accepting any of the justifications he’s give. And he somehow lets you get away with it, that easily, a fond smile pulling at his lips while he looks down at you “Okay, okay... I’m just happy you are here, honestly” 
Charles word’s startle you, your heart speeding to a hundred miles per hour in just a second. The man ignites this inexplicable feeling inside of you, one so familiar and foreign at the same time, slowly building inside of you, a warmth that threatens to overcome you at any second if you let it. This silence and closeness not helping you in the slightest. 
Paired with these thoughts come other less comforting ones, a more logical part that warns you that you have been letting this go on for too long. You let your hold on Charles’s arm fall, instinctively taking a step back. This is too much, the wine must have been playing with your head, you have let this go on for over time and- 
However, Charles doesn’t seem to agree with any of the thoughts boiling in your head, his hand following the movements of yours and catching it halfway, his fingers intertwining with yours. Not ready to let you go just yet. He can see the gears turning at full force inside your mind as well, hopes the gesture will stop you from overthinking it all and focus solely on this. 
For you though, that train of thought isn’t as easy to reach, even less so when his touch has set your nerves alight. “Oh, yeah, me too! Well-, I mean, I’m happy to be here. The first day I thought I wouldn’t even see you in all ten days, but it’s been great ever since, I promise!” the tension of the moment is too much to handle, and it forces the first stupidity that comes to your mind out to break it 
Charles tilts his head to the side, taking some extra time to process what you said “What?” 
Sadly, instead of simply waiting for him to interpret your babbling, your big mouth keeps on talking “You were working, I completely understand! I mean, you’re in Ferrari, of course... I just got nervous at first, that’s all” 
“Oh” the Monegasque simply says, his face void of any emotion as he watches you freaking out thinking you’ve upset him. You and your stupid brain that keeps making up excuses for a joke you had told to ease the tension, you should start thinking twice about it. The wine has also loosed up your tongue.  
At some point Charles decides it is time to have some mercy on you and stop your monologue, a big grin making his eyes crinkle before he is using his hold on your hand to bring you in for a big hug — what a nice way to ask you to shut up.  
“Seriously, this is driving me crazy...” he confesses with a giggle, tightening his arms around your body as you deflate in his hold, letting go of all the nerves that had so suddenly preyed on you “You know what happened? I prepared everything, arranged some visits and talked to some people, everything! And I thought: I’ll push all the meetings I have to Monday and Tuesday, so they won’t bother us at all, she’ll probably sleep until, like 2 p. m.” Charles narrates the plan he had so carefully drawn up for your visit, making a pause to lean back and see your reaction to all that happened behind the scenes before you came to the country “Well, turns out that someone, even after driving for 70 whole laps in Hungary and having not slept at all during the flight, just decided to wake up at 8 in the morning! Who does that?” 
The belly laugh that escapes you is loud, cheeks hurting from the big smile that has managed to take over your face throughout Charles’ story, his expressions and gestures depicting how much it had surprised him to see you walking down the hall that morning. All dressed up and ready for the day, if you may add. 
“Why do you think I took you to the Prince’s Car Collection that day? I thought, since she’s been pestering me for months about it, maybe that’ll make her forget she’s been locked away all morning” 
“Aw, that’s so nice!” you compliment him, elongating the syllables and swaying him from side to side to further support your words, your hands still resting on his chest and his having claimed their place at your sides. You do not remember ever talking about the collection, but that is something that does not matter right now "You've been a great tour guide"
“I really am nice” Charles affirms with a smirk, like he cannot believe you didn't find that out earlier, and you can only nod at him in agreement. He has been nothing but amazing in the time you have known each other, you’ll give him that. "I don't know about the tour guide part though, you've been only laughing at me..."
You playfully hit his chest, smiles turning to giggles that give way to a comfortable silence, a moment to relax. Happiness is spilling out of every single pore of your skin as you look at each other with a silly grin on your lips, eyes analysing every feature of the other’s face and committing it to memory as if they were about to vanish in time. A strong hold on each other just in case.
You can see Charles debating wether to break the silence or not, a soft frown set in between his eyebrows while his eyes search for a sign in yours. His lips are pursed, the words that had been stuck in his mind for a while now about to finally be pronounced. However, a strange music beats him to it.
It promptly steals your attention from him, moment broken. Your head turns to the sound, recognizing where it seems to be coming from... your bedroom? 
As if hypnotised, you step away from Charles, the Monegasque letting you go from his hold without putting up much of a fight —although he desperately wants to. Something inside of you pulling you towards the sound. The steps you take to the room seem endless, the heels clicking on the hardwood following your path and the noise getting louder, but when you open the door it all happens so fast. You somehow know exactly where it is coming from, hands digging with urgency inside the backpack you had taken to airport 10 days ago. Having come to kneel on the ground, you pull out a cloth bag and lay it out beside you, the realization that it is the same one Nick left for you in Hungary’s hotel and you had not even opened, being too vague for you to fully grasp it.  
The music is louder now, your ears ringing with the stupid rhythm when you finally decide to empty all of its contents out on the floor for easier access. You find a lip balm, earphones, some papers and buried under all of it: a phone.
Another one. A phone you had never seen, the one Nick gave you at the start of this madness still secure in your bag. Where did it come from? Nick had said the bag contained the stuff you left behind at the track, but you sure as hell did not leave this.
You watch your hand stretching towards the device in slow motion, your mind pushing you forward but getting no response in return. The screen is upside down, the case vibrating against the floor and joining the cacophony of sounds that has been bouncing off your ears, a feeling of being underwater so awfully recognizable that you get dizzy just thinking about the last time you endured its consequences. The necklace burning in your chest.
What is this phone? Who is calling?  
Your fingers tingle at the touch, the device turning in your hold ever so slowly to reveal the caller screen. At the top, written in big bold letters reads the contact's name you have been longing to see for so long:  
DAD 
A due reminder that none of this is real.  
Author's note: Omg, this is so long, I got carried the fuck away with this one. As you have probably noticed it is not even proofread, if I keep it in my drafts any longer I'll keep adding to it. It ended up being as a kind of Charles' one shot thing so I hope you all enjoyed it. As always, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated, thank you all so much for reading!
Also happy New Year to everyone!! This was supposed to be my Christmas present to all of you but it just kept going out of control.
Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie
If anybody is missing from the taglist, please send me a message! I've had some problems with tumblr lately so I'm really sorry if I didn't tag you.
140 notes · View notes
urfavnegronerd · 8 months
Note
1610 and reader cuddle session hcs 😄
here we gooooo
an absolute whore fiend for affection and physical touch
likes when you do that thing w/ your nails to massage his scalp
tries to talk to you/ start conversation while ur cuddling
cannot hold said conversation b/c he gets sleepy in ur arms
both miles' are like cats, but 1610 miles is a middle aged cat whos either really energetic or super sluggish whereas 42 is an old and tired bodega cat
in the least suggestive way you absolute horny fucks he is a minor stop being weird absolutely adores skin-skin contact
like he feels like he has to get closer to you
your body weight just flush against him?
10/10, no notes
forehead + nose kisses are absolutely a given
if you get acrylic nails he loves it when you rake them across the nape of his neck
also loves when ur thumb does that lil strokey thing on his hair
100% buys yall matching bonnets/durags
his fave way to cuddle is when his head is on ur chest and he's lying between ur legs stop. don't be weird.
b/c of all his spiderman stuff he's sore most of the time, specifically in his back/traps/shoulders (hello mans literally swings himself using his upper body weight) so when yall r laid up like that you give his upper back lil massages n shit
however
if ur an athlete he def babies u after practice when yall cuddle
like the whole nine
mans is a sweetheart and draws u like a bath or sum (i think 1610 and 42 would both do this tbh) and sits on the edge of the tub/toilet and just talks to you
or gives u a cute lil shoulder massage
if u get ur braids/hair/retwist and your scalp is literally screaming he'll let you lay on top of him with your head on his chest
if u fall asleep w/o ur bonnet/durag/headscarf on he puts it on for you
or sacrifices his hair and puts his on you
back to the original req chile anyway--
like i said he loves skin to skin contact
like mans is fully a baby
also he's a furnace literally 95% of the time, so during the winter u press up against his chest
almost always ends up asleep with his face on ur stomach (either ur bare stomach or his head is literally under ur shirt. if u have a lil (or a lot, honestly mans does not care about ur body type. also side note of me just being queer but when women have that lil pudge/pocket/bulge thing and wear tight skirts/dresses. WHEW. same thing w/ masc women omg teddy bear mascs are adorable. but i also love me some muscles anywho back to the req) pudge, muffin top, hip dip, whatever, he adores it. like fully massages those lil bits of u when ur cuddling. however if ur more muscly/ toned in ur stomach area he loves that too, esp tracing the muscle lines, like ur obliques or abs if you have them)
like i said he gets rly tired in ur presence cs you make him feel safe so when ur cuddling he gets all mumbly and his movements are all thick and syrupy and he gets to be a lil drowsy baby
yall ever seen those tiktoks w/ couples cooking and one of them is on their partners back? yeah, that's yall
"miles i have homework" *muffled in your stomach/neck w his arms wrapped around you* nuh uh "fuck you mean nuh uh?"\
its such a struggle to end cuddle sessions w him, literally the both of u want to stay tangled up like that together forever
when ur over his house and rio and jeff are home the two of you literally just fall asleep on the couch while cuddling
yall are that couple that sleeps and cuddles together all the time
u know that text chain that's like 'after class can i take a nap in your bed' "yeah" 'with you?' "duh" 'omg im so excited'
thats yall
rio and jeff literally had to bribe you to go on dates that weren't sleeping on the couch while watching movies
after the events of atsv he literally just wants to cuddle
i hope this what ur looking for anon!
xoxo,
rae <3
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l0vergirlv0mit · 5 months
Text
Before Today
Inspired by: Before Today by Everything But The Girl
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Pairing: college!Hazel Callahan X reader
Summary: You just can’t get over your ex and frequently confide in your best friend Isabel. This leads her to pulls some strings to try and make her best friend happy again…
Warnings: 18+ mdni, kinda toxic!reader (if you squint), breaking up, fingering, oral r!reciving,
Authors notes: first time writing so it prob sucks. It was super fun to write though. Thanks for reading <3
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3 months. That’s how long it’s been since the start of you and Hazels no contact agreement. You decided you couldn’t be her friend after your break up. You couldn’t stomach the idea of being her friend and watching her give her attention to another girl. You wanted the feelings to go away but they never did.
But now you stare at your phone feeling your whole body go numb with fear. Your finger lingers over the unblock button.
You still haven’t been able to get over the way her hands felt when she’d hold your face and call you pretty. The way her laugh rang in your ears when you made a joke sending a wave of pride to your chest .The way her lips felt on your neck, whispering how much she wanted you.
You had to set your phone down to slow your breathing, your eyes filled with tears. Thinking back to when it all fell apart. It was completely your fault.
You couldn’t stop the self destructive chain of events that night. You had a fight that completely blew up in your face. You were looking for a fight wanting to give reason to the emotions you were feeling. You had been upset over reason outside of your relationship and just couldn’t let yourself be happy.
“Are you seriously bringing this up again.” Hazel looked at you with no expression she was tired, very tired, leaned over the counter with her face in her hands. “Well yeah I mean you flirted with her in front of my fucking face HAZEL. Like am I just supposed to get over that.” Your tone full of venom. “I told you a million fucking times I wasn’t flirting with her I was ACTUALLY politely telling her I have a girlfriend. So yeah get the fuck over it.” She replies your eyebrows furrow. “Ohhh yeah that’s why you we’re laughing at everything she said, should’ve twirled your hair and kicked your feet while you were at it.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up walking over to you. She got within a couple inches of your face looking down at you slightly. “What’s your goal here huh?” She spoke in a soft deep voice. “Is this your fucked up way of pushing me away? You don’t wanna be with me?” She bumps your chest with her finger and it makes you unbelievably angry.
“Maybe I don’t.” You didn’t even mean it but it was too late to take it back. Without another word she picked up her jacket she left on your settee and ran out of the door. Slamming it so hard the wall shook.
You had met up to talk about the fight the day after it had happened deciding it was best to put the relationship on “pause”. Trying to keep it as civil as possible given your mutual friends and inability to hate her.
You had heard about her going out with girl after girl from Isabel. You knew it was her way to fill the void you tried doing the same at the start but got to frustrated deciding on studying 24/7 instead.
Josie and Isabel were you and Hazels informants for each other without either of you knowing. Giving you unsolicited updates when either of you had called in tears over how much you missed one another.
The thought of her going out with so many different girls got to you even when Isabel would call the girls ugly to make you feel better. It especially hurt when you found yourself scrolling through the folder of photos you kept of dates and pictures of her. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete it. Pictures of her trying to stop smiling long enough to kiss you. Those destroyed you.
You pick your phone up again and unblock her turning your brain off for as long as you can. You noticed she didn’t have you blocked and you followed her again. Trying to do these actions as fast as possible to not let the anxiety strangle you. Letting out the biggest exhale you could you turn your phone off and go to bed.
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Hazel had followed you back by the next morning but nothing else came of it. Of course this had you ecstatic but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully make contact. A week later Isabel had invited you out to a party with full knowledge that Hazel was going to be there.
“Y/n what are you gonna wear to the party tomorrow?” She texted you. You sent her a photo of a tiny black skirt, a band tee shirt you had cut into a tank top, and your black boots. “Yeah that’ll work.” Is all she said back. You sent “???” But she never replied.
You got ready for the party putting your 90’s smokey eye on and styling your hair to perfection. You put on your most expensive perfume. Staring at yourself in your full length mirror admiring yourself in the new set you bought from Victoria secret it was lacy and red. You were determined to get laid tonight. Finishing getting dressed in clothes that didn’t give you much more coverage than the set did you hear a “ding” from your phone,
Isabel: here
Josie and Isabel pulled up to your place. You came down the stairs of your apartment complex. And basically hop over to the car. “Hey hot stuff.” Josie said wiggling her eyebrow talking to you through the open window. “Yeah just so you know we’re looking for a third.” Isabel joked looking you up and down. You giggle and slide into the back seat. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” You give both girls a kiss on there cheeks. “You guys are gonna be the hottest couple at this party.” Josie and Isabel give each other a look you couldn’t quite understand. “Doubt it.” Is all Josie said before driving. Isabel smiled at this remark confusing you.
The 3 of you had gotten out of the car walking up to the frat house the party was at. “I’m so happy you agreed to go out with us tonight.” Isabel beams at you. “Yeah all you do is study y/n you better go crazy tonight.” Josie says looking at you slyly. You laugh as you reach the front door.
You all walk inside and see PJ and Britney talking in a corner. Josie walks up to them first “Heyyyy PJ you wanna get a drink with me?” Josie takes the poor girl over to the bar. You and Isabel then go to join Britney. “Her dedication is impressive honestly.” You say to Britney and she nods her head. “Oh very impressive.” She replied taking a big sip out of her red solo cup. You look over to the bar area and do a double take.
PJ and Josie are deep in conversation with Hazel. You feel all the confidence you had drain from your body. Hazel feels your eyes on her and makes eye contact with you. You look away quickly feeling very naked in your tank top and too tiny skirt. Hazel can’t help but stare at you. The way your outfit was hugging you in the just the right places and your hair framing your face so perfectly. It made her unbelievably needy.
You wait till they leave the bar and go outside by the pool to go get yourself a drink. You feel hazels glances until they’re completely outside. You down 2 shots back to back immediately and smile coyly at a worried looking Isabel, she’s starting to regret her decision to play parent trap.
“Go talk to them.” Josie spoke softly to Hazel “I can’t I mean what would I even say.” Hazel huffs as she swirled her vodka strawberry lemonade around staring at it like it would turn into a portal and take her anywhere but here. “Oh I don’t know Hazel! Maybe “I miss you so much y/n that I cried during not 1 but 3 hook ups.”” Hazel just stared at Josie with her mouth open hoping no one was over hearing their conversation. “Ok I’m sorry-“ Josie started but Hazel threw her cup down and started walking furiously into the house to find you. Josie laughed in surprise that that actually worked.
You were still at the bar making yourself the strongest cocktail known to man. When you feel someone’s presence to the side of you looking up casually with a smile already feeling tipsy. Your eyes grow wide and smile falls realizing who was in front of you. “Oh.” You felt like a fucking bumbling idiot. She looked amazing her hair slightly pushed out of her face. She had on baggy jeans, a cropped green plaid button up, and adidas. The way her small chains rest at the base of her neck makes your heart skip.
“Hey h-how have you been.” Hazel asks rubbing the back of her neck looking you up and down mindlessly. “I’ve been good h-how have you been.” You try to keep it together even though you feel your heart sinking even deeper into your chest. “I miss you… like a lot.” She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She gives you a desperate look. It nearly takes your breath away you stare at her in disbelief. She looked like a sick puppy. “Can we go somewhere more private please?” She pleaded and you nod, she takes your hand hesitantly and leads you upstairs to an empty room.
Josie and Isabel watched you disappear to the second floor “let’s fucking go.” Josie says and they high five each other.
Hazel closed the door behind you and locked it. You turn to face her, looking each other in the eyes deeply. She rubs her sweaty hands on her pants and goes past you to sit on the bed. You go to sit next to her. “You look beautiful.” She spoke softly trying to be as un intimidating as possible. “So do you.” You both stare at each other not knowing what else to say.
“I miss you so much Hazel, it hurts.” You finally huffed and pouted starting to feel embarrassed at the familiar burn you were getting in your throat. Your eyes becoming glazed and heavy. Trying your best not to let out 3 months of self hatred and sadness. You looked down at nothing feeling defeated.
Hazel broke, grabbing your face with both hands to meet your eyes again then pulled you into a heated urgent kiss. It turned into a frenzied make out. Both pair of hands grasping and pulling and caressing. She pulled away just enough to whisper. “Fuck I missed you so much.” Then her lips were on you again. You grab at her shoulders grounding yourself. She pulls back once more. “I missed your lips-” You grab her by the collar not able to contain how needy you are for her. “nn-h!” you swing your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands strongly grip your hips just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
You grip onto her hair tugging her back, eyes flicking over her blushed face. You start kissing her neck feverishly. Her breathing picks up and her exhales are heavy. “You feel so good y/n.” You go to unbutton her shirt but Hazel flips you onto your back. She grabs your wrist pinning you and bring her knee against your heat. You let out a high pitched whimper.
Your skirt rides up revealing your red lace thong. Hazel takes notice her face becoming more dark and focused. “These are new.” She presses her thumb to your clothed clit. This elicits a breathless moan not expecting her actions.
Your face turns a deep shade of red when she starts kneeling between your legs. She leaves a trail of kisses starting at the top of your knee. Your fingers running through her hair making her hum into your softly skin. Hazel makes her way to your inner thigh kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin.
She sucks hard released the plush skin with a pop, leaving behind a burgundy bruise. She peeks at you through her lashes, the sight forever burned in her mind. Your mouth slightly open, eyes half lided and chest heaving it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.
She focuses again nudging your clothed clit with her nose. You grip her hair harder to encourage her, and that was all she needed. She pushed your panties to the side and licked a long stripe up your cunt. You got shivers all over your body. She devours you like she’s never taste anything so good in her life. You contract around nothing as her finger ghost up and down your slit teasing you to no end.
“M-more please Hazel?” You practically beg her “Of course baby.” She comes up to smile at you and ads 2 fingers into your hole hitting just the right spot to make your eyes roll back, just like she used to do.
“Oh baby likes that huh.” She smiles to herself then goes back to abusing your clit with her mouth. Hazel used her other hand to pull your shirt up for her own pleasure and palmed your tits. Your lacy red bra excited her even more than she already was.
You felt your orgasm creeping, getting frustrated it was so soon you wanted this to last forever. “Hazel I’m gonna- ‘m s-so close Hazel.” Shes kept her brutal pace till your back arched and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “That’s it pretty girl just like that. So pretty so fucking pretty.” Hazel mumbles softly to you bringing you through your orgasm. Body shaking until you rode your high to completion.
“I missed this.” You say with a giggle steadying your breath. Hazel pulls your panties back into place and lays next to you. She grabs your face and pulls you into a slow deep kiss. “Not as much as me.” Her wide smile tells you all you need to know. Resting her hand on your face she takes in your features. She uses her thumb to wipe some of your smudged lipstick. “You wanna go back to mine?” You ask her shyly. Then laughing when you notice her equally smudged lips. “I would want nothing more.” Hazel gets up and offers you her hand helping you up.
You both walk down stairs hand and hand. Josie, Isabel, PJ and Britney have been absolutely losing it for the 15 minutes you were away. “Oh my god.” Is all Britney said see the both of you holding hands all of them turned to gawk at you.
Hazel makes a detour to the bar grabbing 2 beers with one hand for when you get back to your apartment. She had you lipstick smudged on her face and neck wearing it like a trophy. Hazel nods at the group then opens the door for you. You give Isabel and Josie a wave, grinning ear to ear, you walk out of the house with your hair a complete mess in the back. They can’t help but to laugh at the display of shamelessness.
It was going to be a very long night.
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AITA for almost killing my 8th grade english teacher? (warning: racism, sa mention)
I (M16, 14 at the time, white (this is important later)) was part of the newspaper in middle school. The teacher running the newspaper (F… 50? 60? i have no idea) was always really nice to me, and we got along really well. I was ecstatic to see that she would be my english teacher in 8th grade.
That is, until the class actually began.
This english class we mostly read books about oppression and historical atrocities and genocide because our history class wouldn’t cover that for some reason (the reason is racism). It seemed like this teacher would have done a good job of teaching this material, but well. you can see where this is going.
a week into the school year the whole class saw that she was pretty racist - not like overtly racist; she sort of said she cared about fighting oppression and then… was a part of that oppression. like she’d say “i could never be racist” and then she would be racist. it’s hard to explain. she would always be incredibly weird about disciplining the Black kids in the class, blaming one guy in particular for like. every time a guy in the class acted like and eighth grade boy would act. she was also really condescending to him; she’d constantly make comments about how he couldn’t follow rules (which obviously isn’t true). she did this to an extent to all the other Black kids in the class as well; later when some of them went to the principal to talk about what happened they said they didn’t feel safe in her class.
additionally, pretty much nobody even stood for the pledge of allegiance (we were usually busy reading cause the library in that school was really nice and had a really good collection of books), and when they did they’d never actually say it. this teacher had a problem with this, and every time she saw absolutely nobody in the class standing for the pledge of allegiance, she’d make the entire homeroom (oh yeah i was in her homeroom too, forgot to mention that) tell her why they didn’t for literally the entire class period. Every time someone mentioned systemic racism or racist history she’d butt in either saying “my parents were immigrants and they stood for the pledge” or she’d start talking about her gay son. some kids told stories of being called slurs when they were younger. some kids cried. she would always bring up her gay son as a rebuttal. and i get that being gay is hard, i’m gay myself, but that is not in any way applicable to the situation at hand here. This happened on three separate occasions - sometimes a single person would stand for the pledge just so there was at least one person doing it and so we wouldn’t have to have that conversation.
And then there was the actual teaching. oh boy. so, as i said before, almost all of our books in this class were about some sort of historical atrocity because the history class didn’t have time for it apparently. and uh. uhhhhhhh yeah. with this teacher it was not a good experience.
We had read books about racism for summer reading and we were reading the novel Chains at the beginning of the school year, and the teacher would always talk about how “resilient” the characters in the books were and how they made the best of their situations and fought back, but never about how these characters should have never had to be in these situations in the first place and WHO PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS, WHAT SYSTEMS PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS YOU KNOW THE KIND OF STUFF ONE WOULD NEED TO KNOW FROM A COURSE LIKE THIS TO MAKE SURE HISTORY DOESNT REPEAT ITSELF. Later in the year we read Warriors Don’t Cry and it went exactly how you’d expect. “Resiliency”. Also worse than you’d expect. The teacher victim blamed the author, a real ass person writing about real fucking events, for almost being assaulted at a young age. And though we focused more on the systems of oppression, thankfully, we also watched and interview with the little rock nine and some of the people who harassed them in school, and one of them, a white woman, said the n word and refused to apologize. and this teacher defended her???? On another occasion we had a lesson about feminism and we read some of Sojourner Truth’s writing, and she interpreted it as solely being about womanhood and not race - and when I tried to talk about how race is an important factor in the message of one of the speeches, the teacher called my parents. We also read books about the holocaust and this teacher was surprisingly respectful throughout the whole thing. No victim blaming, no talk of resilience, nothing.
I had talked to her about all of this before. We knew each other from the newspaper, and it even seemed like I was her favorite student. She would not budge. Sometimes she even made the argument that I was smarter than the other kids, that I cared more than the other kids, that I would notice these things and care about them but other kids wouldn’t and I should just shut up because nobody understands me because i’m just so smart. which made me fucking pissed. i don’t care any more than the other kids who told you stories of being harassed and ridiculed at 8:30 am on a weekday so that the whole class could excercise their freedom of speech. i’m not any smarter than the other kids who cited countless examples of the atrocities this country committed against people of color to you who you didn’t listen to. in fact, i’m not even that smart. i’d say i’m kind of an idiot. and i want to be an idiot, because then i’m not put on a pedestal to push other people down.
This happened two years ago so i don’t exactly remember the order in which these next three events happened.
Since during these talks sometimes i’d start to cry, in may my french teacher asked me if i wanted to transfer to her homeroom and i did. It was a lot better there.
Around this time about eight of the kids from my old homeroom went to the principal to talk about this teacher and how her class made them feel unsafe.
Anyway, my backpack is very heavy. I usually have a lot of books in there, until this year I used five subject notebooks, I never clean out my folders and I brought a laptop as well. Even with all this though, my backpack always ends up being heavier than I expected.
So, one day my anger toward this teacher boiled over. On my way out of english class, when she went to say goodbye to me, I shoved her to the side with my backpack. It turns out that broke her hip, and she was out of school for two weeks. When she came back she said she had almost died in the hospital. She also announced her retirement, and that she was going to go and “end racism”, ironically. She knew I was the one who hit her, but she didn’t say anything about that. I was still her favorite, apparently. It left a bad taste in my mouth that she still thought of me like this. Eventually I graduated from that school and I haven’t seen her since.
tldr: A teacher of mine was racist and making a lot of the kids in the class feel unsafe, and she tried to keep me from arguing with her about it, so I hit her with my backpack and broke her hip, almost killing her.
AITA???
What are these acronyms?
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romanarose · 8 months
Text
Why Did You Stop?
Steven Grant x Gn!reader
Romana's 1000 follower celebration
Join my tag list to be tagged in more content!
requested by @soonknight
"hi romana, congrats on 1000! you deserve it and I love your writing! I wanted to send you a request but I'm on a side blog and hate doing anons... I'd love to see a drabble with steven and "why'd you stop?" I'm just in the mood for some fluff tonight, idk. thanks!"
Summary: While locked out of your apartment, your neighbor, Steven, kindly let's you stay over at his flat that night.
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"Excuse me, are you alright?"
You wake up to a pretty sight; Steven Grant, your neighbor, waking you.
And the blinding hall lights. Those were annoying.
"Oh, hey Steven." You smile at him sitting up.
"Everything okay? I'm sorry to wake you, love, but I was just worried."
"Y-yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just locked myself out of my apartment is all. Sleeping out here for tonight."
The look of horror on his face make you giggle. "Oh god, no! Why didn't you knock on my door? I'm glad I ordered some late dinner" He held up his take out. "C'mon, up you go" Steven began to hoist you off the couch, even picking up your coat that you were using as a blanket. "Can't believe you didn't come see me. Absolutely ridicules, as if I don't have a perfectly good apartment just across the hall for you to sleep in."
Steven continued to murmur about how you were always welcome over as he set you up on the couch you were all to familiar with after arguing with him over who was going on the bed. You simply refused, you would not disrupt the poor man's sleep. He needed it! Plus, he had a whole ruetine.
You'd been around Steven and his apartment enough that he felt he no longer had to hide the sand and chain and duck tape from you, all the times you came over to watch movie's this last month you saw his place just as it was, mess and quirks in all. You liked that he trusted you with it.
Soon enough, you found yourself bundled up on the couch with the neighbor you'd been sporting a crush on since forever, and as usual, your bodies were pressed up close with Steven laying on your lap. It wasn't long until he fell asleep on you, just as you suspected he would. Steven almost always did, needing his rest so badly, so you'd taken to lulling him to sleep yourself by gently scratching his scalp, massing your fingers through his beautiful thick curls. If he didn't wake by the end of the movie, you would try to make a quiet exit and leave him on the couch with a blanket. Tonight, you were hoping he'd wake eventually so you could send him to bed, but for now you took the time to simple admire him. He real was handsome, so, so handsome it was nearly painful, your heart aching for him, to touch him, to be with him... but if you told Steven that, would you lose moments like this? moments when you felt so comfortable, so safe, so at peace... you'd miss it all so much.
"Why'd you stop?" Steven's voice was soft and small below you, and it's then you realize his eyes open, watching you watching him...
"Oh! Oh sorry, Steven" You go back to scratching him, but he keeps looking up at you, his brown eyes large and gentle.
"You looked sad, darling. Anything wrong?"
"No, Steven, nothings wrong"
He didn't believe you. Steven sat up, his face close to yours. "No, somethings on your mind. What is it?"
Still, you hesitate. You could tell him... but you could also ruin it all. "Well... I was just thinking... and... and you can say no and I don't want this to ruin our friendship but... maybe I could take you on a date sometime?" You held your breath.
Steven's face was unreadable besides surprise. "You... you want to go on a date? With me?"
You couldn't help wringing your hands together. "Yes? I mean, if you want to. If you want to remain just friends then that's-" You were interrupted by the most unlikely of events. Steven Grant kissed you.
His lips on yours, you relax into him, opening your mouth slightly for the kiss to deepen just a bit. Nothing salacious, nothing raunchy, simply you and Steven feeling your passion for one another.
"Darling, I'd love to go on a date with you. But I'm taking you."
You smile at your sweet Steven, so beautiful and so kind. He was finally yours.
************
This is inspired by the time during winter break i got locked out of my dorm bc I lost my keys at work and a kind coworker drove me home and i was able to get into the building bc my student ID by not my dorm room. The RA n duty never answered my damn call. I was mad. lol. anyway i didn't let it get me down, i made due and slept on a couch and was greatful i had a warm place to sleep in the -30 temps but Fen actually gave me this idea for Stevenw hen I told them about it XD
thanks for everyone being patient on these, my anxiety ha been like. severe. i dont want to be dramatic but it's been bad bad bad all summer and im honestly struggling. I appriciate the patience and the understanding that i gotta do it when inspiration strikes and im feeling it.
@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls @lokisv7ikrie @mikaelak
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zvezdacito · 16 days
Text
A Different Perspective on the Levan -> Crowley theories, who to trust and a way of tying it to the themes of the story
Preface: This isn't really gonna be a super serious compilation of solid proof, symbolism or anything, more like just me yapping abt something I happened to randomly think of yesterday and thought "it would actually be kinda interesting from a writing standpoint if this is the thing they go for instead of what everyone was expecting". Kind of long but I promise it will be at least interesting AU material if anything so just bear with me lmao
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Ok so basically so far the general trajectory of theories is something bad happened to Levan while he was missing that made him into Crowley who is doing some kind of evil scheming that will disregard the safety of his family and students sooner or later. Generally Levan is the good self while Crowley is the fucked up self, and it would probably be better if Levan was here instead of him
But what if it's actually more like the other way around. That Levan is the one we should be looking out for, and Crowley is the trustworthy version of him this entire time?
What if everything Levan went through made it inevitable for him to snap and be vengeful and do evil shit so Crowley is basically his sane self's last ditch effort to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone and ruin people's lives, basically using the goofy Crowley personality to suppress and forget the vengeful Levan personality
Like the "Levan's soul got fractured and split into pieces and the pieces that remember his past are sealed away" theories, but instead of usual reasons it's him who sealed them away ironically to remain as true to his original self as possible, than if it remained and he turned into someone violent and hateful against his own principles.
I feel like it would be even more of a twist since they keep emphasizing how kind and peaceful Levan is so I don't think neither Meleanor, Lilia nor the audience would expect the OG Levan described that way to actually turn out cruel and untrustworthy who the seemingly suspicious and cowardly Crowley was actually trying to manage the whole time
Also it would kind of be more straightforward as to why he would choose to forget Lilia and Malleus than if Crowley was fucked up Levan and forgot them even though his goal would be to revive Meleanor and his old life with them anyway
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It's hard to tell right now but Crowley despite his goofiness doesn't really seem to harbor any malice against anyone, nor would he be the type to seriously blood sacrifice any of his students, even if he does abandon them sometimes. In this new context maybe it would even make sense if he abandons them so the subconcious Levan doesn't try to find opportunity to break out/cause trouble through blot and magic related situations?
So yeah it would be cool if it turned out Crowley was the "good" version of Levan all along, and Levan overtly and subtextually is just trying to gaslight the audience into distrusting Crowley so they can set a chain reaction of events going to unseal him so he can do whatever he wants to
Also Crowley probably knows he has to keep Levan locked away no matter what but also doesn't dare try to remember what Levan remembers because that would go against the whole point of keeping Levan locked away in the first place. His memory of his past is just puzzle pieces w/o the bigger picture. He has to be atleast partially aware that he has to not give in to the voice in the back of his mind for the sake of others
Like he knows he had to leave behind a family behind and forget them so he would not hurt them, but he doesn't exactly remember who anymore which is why he isn't really flinching or anything when around Malleus and Lilia at NRC
Though I feel like him suppressing Levan lowkey also took a toll on his mental state. So they actual conclusion would for him to basically symbolically stop suppressing his trauma in an attempt to be a perfect victim because it's not working either way and the only way for Levan to rest in peace is if he finds closure. Whatever that may be.
Maybe if Yuu and co. find out they encourage him to do this to his surprise basically saying "Don't worry headmage we'll beat the shit out of evil Levan for you if he goes out of control (you are so annoying so we've always wanted to do this)"
The reveal and Crowley needing to stop supressing Levan in his subconcious to let him process what he should have would make sense, since it would also tie in to the overarching theme around the overblots:
That even though they're ugly and hurtful manifestations of trauma they need to play out so the OBer can finally grow as a person instead of bottling it all up and being in denial
And also so they can finally come to terms with something that happened to them even if they can't change it
^ Accidentally sort of also combined this with the "Crowley's mask is hiding the fact that he's in a paused state of overblot that he just managed to sorta control" theory. Maybe overblot is what he had to stop Levan from devolving into in the first place
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↑ This ties back to my HC for Levan's personality being a natural coward and not as battle-oriented but tries to be strong as he sees Meleanor and Lilia to be as well as making the most out of the skills the does have (using cowardice and sensitivity to be a master diplomat and educator instead) so he can feel like he has the right to continue to stand by their side. Maybe he didn't even care much for being considered kind until that's what Mel and Lilia saw his actions as instead of weak or foolish, that being what made him want to work on that newly defining trait of his now
Lilia at one point mentions that even tho Levan tries to perform honor student he could be as picky of an eater as Meleanor was and Lilia would have to eat his spare food too
Adding to the possibility Levan was always the type to make twice an effort to be 'kind' and strong to compensate for his nature that he sees as inherently lacking. This is also probably why he'd be super harsh on himself as Crowley
Oomf also suggested that this may add a layer to why his catchphrase ended up being "For I'm so gracious". As if to remind himself to keep up the effort to be such because he fears his natural state is one that isn't, as well as him encouraging himself to always be forgiving so Levan doesn't gain the upper hand from his subconcious
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↑ Ok so I don't have the brainpower to paraphrase this too so I'll just copy paste what I talked to another oomf about here because it's also interesting
That's pretty much it, hope the general idea and effect was conveyed properly🔥🔥🔥 I don't think the exact details need to be followed since it probably has a bunch of holes itself, but the general gist of Crowley being the more positive side of Levan instead of the expected inverse all along + it making more sense as to why Levan would be motivated to forget + tying into the themes of overblotting and trauma would be interesting I think. Kind of a clever misdirection. All of this is not super substantiated though since even now we barely know anything about either Levan or Crowley, so really only time will tell. Personally kinda got attached to this direction for Crowley's character so I hope they go with something adjacent to the heart fo it at least
The other option is he's not Levan at all and we're racking our brains over this for no reason lmao
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theartificialwriter · 3 months
Text
Just some warnings: major smut up ahead and mentions of sex, minors dni!
Coriolanus Snow sexual evolution!
What I personally think he’d be like sexually
Don’t continue if you’re uncomfortable with this sort of stuff
Here’s some random headcanons about young Coriolanus:
- during school/being a teacher to tributes/before meeting Lucy Grey, he would be a super fluffy lover, like SUPER, but only because he was so horny he was scared. He’d be like “y/n… get off my lap please.” And then the y/n of the situation would just let him indulge and the whole time he would be overly gentle and afraid, whining and stuff, little whimpers as he tries to control himself. He’d never let himself give into those primal urges, so he wouldn’t be a “love making” virgin, he’d be a “fucking” virgin. He would always take care of himself on his own too, but even then he wouldn’t let himself act to rough, he’d be afraid that if he felt how good it was it would never stop. And it would take a TON of convincing to get him naked for you. He’d have to be painfully horny for that, so much that he’s desperate for the tension to be released in whatever way possible, and if you’re there offering a way he will take it.
- still during school/hunger games/mentor/when he met Lucy Grey, he’d be too concerned about her life to be afraid of how he felt, if he got turned on he would just ignore it no matter how bad it hurt until she was safe and he was alone to fix it.
- after he killed that first tribute, he lost the last bit of humanity that was able to hold his more primal urges back. The pent up aggression being released felt so good that he began to wonder what aggressive pleasure would feel like.
- peacemaker/with Lucy Grey, he doesn’t let anyone know about these new found urges or ideas. He keeps up acting like the sweet good boy and women would think, “yeah, he’d take me slow and gentle, treat me like a queen” and he would, but he would be holding back, filthy dirty thoughts running through his mind the whole time you’re making love, he nearly cums right then and there, not even inside you yet, as he imagines what he could be doing. By then he’s warn out and has to settle with eating you out.
- when Lucy Grey left/went insane, that’s it, he snapped, the only woman he could hold back for WHILE having those desires was gone and betrayed him, he felt horrible for going soft, instead of a fluffy cloud it was moist mold. He’d yell and scream while jerking himself off, whoever he hated would come to mind and he’d imagine killing them, or he would imagine fucking Lucy Grey as punishment for leaving him until the between of her legs is soaking with blood from not being prepped beforehand. He’d constantly have one night stands with girls who looked or sounded like her, he’d lure them in with a false sense of security like she did to him and them use them once the lights were off. Chains, crying, overstimulation, muscles tearing from the size of his girth and the woman’s unprepped entrance. The sight of the blood would only make him harder. Then he’d go home feeling numb, not guilty, not happy, not angry. Nothing. He would feel some sort of empty peace which he wanted more of.
- After Lucy Grey/if he finds another woman, you would have had to know him before the events of the hunger games in order for him to see you with untainted eyes. In the day when he’s not being an absolute monster, he’s a gentleman and a good worker, in charge as always and raising standards. He’s someone you’d meet at a fancy bar and he’d buy you some wine if it meant some donations to his “just” cause. If you’re his friend then he’d give you knowing glances whenever the hunger games was brought up. He’d joke about murder, but would never bring up Lucy Grey. It’s less of a friendship now that the games with Lucy are over, just a business relationship with a few snarky remarks. If he grows a soft spot for you like he did for Lucy then he will do everything in his power to keep you. He doesn’t want another perfect woman becoming a loose end and abandoning him before he can manipulate the situation. From then it would be like before, too concerned for your wellbeing than for his own needs.
- with you, he would never take advantage of you unless you broke his trust somehow, but that doesn’t mean he’d be gentle. He’d start slow and soft, prepping you to the best of his abilities, which are amazing by now, before increasing the pace and whispering words of praise to you. The second you cum it’s all downhill. He hadn’t felt that much of an emotional fucking in a long time… now it was lovemaking. Now he was an animal. He needed more. It wasn’t just to please you now, but to please him and his unspoken primal urges. He’d whisper to you what he wants and would wait for your consent and when you nod he will slam into you like a fright train. Almost never ending, he’d ignore the safe words until he cums inside of you. His main goal at this point is to get the woman pregnant, anything after the first two rounds is for fun and not necessary pain for you.
Thanks for reading all of this and if you liked it or want to add onto it just comment or dm me!
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inawearyworld · 3 months
Text
free if you truly wish to be: chapter v
the power of a found family heist saves the day (six of crows who??) (god these summaries have become rather unhinged over the course of this fic huh)
2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.3k
just wanted to say thank you to all you lovely people who've read and loved this fic! please lmk what you think, like reblog yadda yadda yadda. i'm euphrasiepontmercy on ao3 if you want to see any more of my near-embarrassingly escapist writing :) there will certainly be more wren coming in the form of playlists, pinterest boards, drawings, etc
so much love <3
part four fic masterlist
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The next day, for half of a moment upon awakening, she thought the whole past month had been a dream. That she’d go on living in her unpierced golden cage, that there was nothing revealed and nothing to reveal, that things could be fine for a little while longer.
Then she heard the blaring vocal warmups of the comedian who lived down the hall.
…Okay, then.
It’s real.
She stayed up in Piper’s room, hoping to escape notice from the owners of the establishment, whom she’d never seen but hated due to their imprisonment of her friends. She’d warned them all the previous night that the Chocolate Cartel had seemed about to propose a surely sinister deal to Wonka-regrettably all but Noodle, who was asleep, and who she thought would probably take the hit the hardest, whatever hit that might be.
She wasn’t sure where to go from here.
Willy had wound up under the thumb of men who would gladly destroy him, the wash crew was nowhere near the freedom they deserved, and she herself was disgraced and thrown out by the only practical lifeline she’d had for two years, the man she’d thought she’d loved.
She realized, though, that the chain of actions that led to finally standing up to Felix was the first thing she’d done in two years that she didn’t regret.
That new sense of assurance, though, wouldn’t put any food on her family’s table.
Or her own.
And still, the thrumming in the back of her heart took the form of olive eyes, soft curls, and chocolate-dot freckles. How much danger was he in? Had he really lost all hope? 
Was he even alive?
The only venture she’d made that morning was a careful one to Lottie’s room; the telephonist had snuck her a bit of gruel and told her she could borrow some of her clothes for the day. When she got back to Piper’s, she heard a large clank against the wall, and opened the window to investigate.
She was met with those same olive eyes, accompanied by a tired but teasing smile.
“We have really got to stop meeting like this.”
Relief flooded her so thoroughly that every rational thought momentarily disappeared, and suddenly Wren realized that she was kissing him.
And that he was kissing her back.
And that he was very precariously perched on a very tall ladder.
“I, ah…”
She trailed off, struck speechless by the haze in his expression that could be described in no way but adoring.
“You’re alive,” she breathed. “You’re here.”
“So are you.”
“And you feel the same way?”
“Very much so.”
Apparently unable to form any longer sentences, they fell into shaking, half-disbelieving laughter.
“Wrap it up, Romeo, a person can only keep this steady for so long,” came Piper’s voice from below, and Willy laughed again.
“Alright, I-well.”
“Yeah?”
She watched him run through the events of the past hours in his mind as he tried to sum it up, and he quickly shook his head.
“Come on down, we’ll all explain what happened. Then we need your help to rescue Noodle.”
~
And so they did. Once the whole crew had been informed of all that had happened, they planned and began to carry out their heist, and Wren-while still fully aware of the danger-allowed part of herself to be thrilled at finally having adventures with a found, created family like she’d read about all her life.
There were a few variables, of course-there was a plan for if Willy and Noodle were caught by the Cartel and a plan for if they weren’t, which, of course, they were. Wren flitted through various windows enough to throw a surely-still-reeling Felix slightly off his game, enough that he’d gladly drown his thoughts in the planted Hoverchocs. She also misdirected those who somehow weren’t distracted by the giraffe, allowing the Oompa-Loompa to enter the cathedral and do his part.
What she wasn’t expecting to do was help him to rescue the pair from death by chocolate.
She’d started to make her way out of the cathedral when she heard a shout of “thank you, little orange man!” from under the ground. Puzzled, she’d looked down to see a chocolate-drenched Noodle and Willy gasping for breath under a circle of glass and flooring as the brown liquid receded. She startled, then quickly came to her wits in time to break the surface and pull each of them through, all three falling into each other’s arms.
“What-”
“Oh, God-”
“What on earth-”
“Thanks, Wren-”
“What happened?”
“The plan,” Willy said, pausing to clear his throat of chocolate, “ran into a few setbacks.”
“I can see that.”
“But,” and here he reached into his vest to produce a large and somewhat soaked envelope, “I brought you this, from the vault.”
Wren opened it carefully to see that its contents were luckily mostly untouched by chocolate. Half of them she recognized as what she’d sent to her family, the things that Felix had withheld, but the rest of the envelopes were graced with her mom’s handwriting.
She’d thought she’d cried more in the past days than ever before, but apparently there were still plenty of tears left, and they all threatened to break loose upon that sight.
They’ve been writing to me all this time.
It was devastating and hopeful all at once. Her husband had spent two years keeping her from contacting her family and keeping them from the reassurance that she cared, but now that she had the letters, she could finally start to make things right.
Also in the massive envelope was a shinier letter, addressed to her from the city’s opera house, stating that a new artistic director had been hired: one who didn’t live in fear of the Cartel, had programmed Romeo et Juliette for the upcoming season, and wished nothing more than for Madame Fickelgruber to play the second title role. Not because of her association, not her relative fame, but her.
She hurriedly looked at the postage date; it wasn’t too late for her to write back and accept.
It’s not too late.
The thought, and its application to just about everything, filled her with light.
She didn’t know why Felix had kept all of this instead of throwing it out; possibly to feed his own ego, to know that his wife was in demand but he was the one that had her. Whatever it was, Willy had found the truth and held it even when he’d thought all was lost, and given it to her the moment he’d had the chance.
“And we found out why Slugworth was acting so weird,” Noodle said excitedly, still catching her breath. “We’re related, if you can believe it-but my parents really did care-and my mom, we-we found her!”
“Oh, Noodle, that’s wonderful,” she gasped, pulling the girl into a hug.
“Yeah, Willy managed to find her name in the ledger-but even after that, he kept looking around the vault until he found that envelope. Said it was for you-that we’d find your family, too.”
Tears brimmed in Wren’s eyes as she nodded to the girl with a smile of sweet solidarity. She then looked over to meet Willy’s gaze, more grateful than she’d ever been, and saw that he’d been watching her with a compassionate blend of sympathy and shared hope.
“Thank you,” she breathed, and kissed him again, heedless of the mess. “I know this will come as no surprise, but-”
“I taste like chocolate?”
“I could get used to it.”
“Okay, WE GET IT,” came Noodle’s laugh, “you like each other, it finally happened, hallelujah. Now-look!”
They all turned to the door to see the unmistakable silhouettes of the Cartel, and Willy grinned. It was time for the final phase of their plan.
The three misfits helped each other off the ground and made their way to the cathedral’s entrance, just in time to hear Prodnose’s “in which they died” followed by the men’s laughter.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
All heads turned at his voice, and Wren grinned to see all three chocolatiers pale at the sight of them.
“Wonka!” shouted Slugworth.
“Florence,” formed Fickelgruber.
“What?” piped Prodnose.
“Officer, would you kindly take a look at this?”
Willy handed the ledger he’d held to Officer Affable, and Noodle smiled as she stepped forward.
“It details every single illegal payment these men have ever made. Thousands of them.”
“Affable, don’t listen to her. She’s lying,” the Chief said, but Affable had already opened the ledger.
“Well, of course she is,” said Slugworth, his clear nervousness betraying him. Wren smirked and looked back to Affable.
“She’s not, sir. She’s absolutely right, it’s…incredible.”
The Chief blinked, then tried as he might to take back control.
“Oh. Well. Then it sounds like a case for the Chief of Police. Give it to me, Affable, I’ll take it from here.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid, sir.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because your name’s written down here, sir. A lot. Gentlemen, you’re under arrest,” he said, addressing the Cartel with the latter statement.
Slugworth nodded slightly, his eyes widening, and barely turned to his colleagues when he spoke to them.
“Run.”
And run they did, but they didn’t get far. Gasps went up in the crowd as the Chocolate Cartel took to the air once again, and the other trio strolled down to the base of the fountain.
“Wha-what’s happening,” Slugworth cried, “why are we airborne?”
“You didn’t eat any of those chocolates, did you, Mr. Slugworth?” Willy asked, knowing full well that he’d won.
God, certainty looked good on him.
“Why?”
“Because they’re Hoverchocs! Delayed action. But extra strong.”
“Florence!-” Felix called, the adrenaline of flight having pitched his voice up nearly an octave as he grabbed onto Prodnose’s leg with one hand and reached to her with the other. “Just forget it all, my pet, I’ll forgive you in time, don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him again and all will be well-”
He always was one for the dramatics.
And that’s something I can easily match.
She looked straight at him, made a show of removing her wedding ring, held it aloft until it glinted in the sun, and let it go, allowing it to tumble through the air and land directly on the edge of a convenient storm drain.
Felix let out a strangled gasp, his eyes not on her but rather trailing the expensive ring as it fell. From his vantage point, it was gone forever in that drain, and she was happy to let him believe that; she’d pick it up later and send it to her family.
Though, perhaps, with her dream off to a real start, she’d finally be able to make her own way in the world and help to support her family on her own accord.
That thought was sweeter than any amount of candy.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Wonka?” Slugworth was saying. He went on to rattle off assurances on how the Cartel could still defeat him, a frantic gloat of their societal power over him, but Wren barely heard it; she was becoming progressively more distracted by Willy’s slight and slowly growing smirk.
“I wish I’d thought of that.”
Then, with something close to darkness, he looked up at them through the chocolate that framed his eyelashes, and Wren thought for a moment that she might faint.
Noodle gave her signal, the ground started to rattle, and Wren’s heart beat faster and faster.
No going back now.
She took a last look at Felix, feeling strangely sorry for him despite herself. In another world, perhaps, he could have been given the space to regard his humble past without shame, could have used it to become a more compassionate person.
Then she reminded herself that, in this world, he had tried to kill two people and had possibly already killed many more, spent his life prioritizing appearance over literally anything else, lied to her countless times, and allowed his chocolate monopoly to uphold an elitist society.
And this world was the one she lived in.
And this world was the one in which the frozen fountain burst with chocolate, rocketing the three men who’d clung to it up and out until they were sailing through the sky.
“Don’t worry, gentlemen!” Willy was calling to them. “You’ll come down eventually, I think. Probably.”
He then turned to her and whispered, “they will.” Through all of this, he still refused to completely harm anyone. The bare minimum, perhaps, but more compassion than the Cartel would have faced opposite any other foe. She smiled and squeezed his hand in silent thanks.
With that, he threw a few ingredients into the chocolate fountain, causing it to sparkle as it never had before, and invited the crowd to enjoy.
As the wash crew came together in relief and celebration, Wren realized that the teasing phrase she’d spoken earlier had more meaning than she’d originally known.
She could indeed get used to this.
~
Not too much of a time later, that same group stood in that same town square on those same cathedral steps, but there was something different in the air.
The Cartel had indeed come safely down from the skies after a few hours on that fateful day, and had promptly been arrested by the newly appointed and much more just Chief Affable of Police. There was more color in the town, more music; everything had seemed a bit lighter, or maybe that was just how it felt to be genuinely living in love.
Because now, Wren Matterson was able to write back and forth with her family again. Now, she was in rehearsals for a role she adored. Now, she was coming into a state of self-empowerment unlike anything she’d ever known. Now, she spent time not perched restless on a fainting couch, but laughing with and learning from a better group of friends than she ever could have imagined, and had even worked together to reunite one of them with her own mom, which they were just about to do.
And right now, in this very moment, Willy Wonka, with tears of grateful closure in his eyes, carefully broke apart his mother’s last chocolate bar, handing a piece of it to each of these dear, dear friends. He then looked to Wren with an expression she was still bowled over by every time, and reached into his pocket.
With a soft but sparkling smile, he opened his hand to reveal an emerald-wrapped, heart-shaped almond milk chocolate.
So, no, Wren Matterson was no longer fine. She was so much better than fine.
She was free.
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800tz · 10 months
Text
LOVE BUZZED
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Pair: Jesus Christo x F reader
Fandom: Clone high
Warnings: None
Additional: N/N=nickname, H/S=hairstyle, the teacher name is just a random ass name i came up with, also Gandhi's back😝
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The day started off just as any normal Friday morning would, the halls busseling with the familiar faces of Vlad the Impaler and Napoleon, just the usual.
"Y/N! doesn't today seem like it's gonna be crazy? I mean nothing interesting has happened since the nip slip at the rally last week, somethings gotta be coming y'know?" Frida grabbed her skateboard, leaning against the locker next to yours.
"I don't know, I mean I can't really think of a reason for it to be a special day... Besides that Biology test, by the way, did you get it?"
You asked, refering to the answer key you asked her to steal for educational reasons.
"Of course I did, here" as she hands the answer key over, you slide her a piece of bubble gum, her favorite thing in the whole wide world besides her trusty skateboard.
You were walking to class with Frida slowly skating next to you, how days usually started, that was until an unusual interaction would start a chain of events...
"Heyyyy Y/N..so I know I still owe you that 5 dollars, and I promise I'm working on it! but I need a favor.." Gandhi appeared in front of you, out of nowhere, blocking your path.
rolling your eyes, you thought 'what more could he possibly need' he looked at you with his sad attempt at puppy dog eyes.
"What" you ask blankly, "Well, I need you to meet Joan in the bathroom..." he states. You noticed his nervous stance, he was visibly sweaty, tapping his pointer fingers together, avoiding eye contact.
"Ok, what tim-" immediately you were cut off by being shoved to the girls room "like right now" he blurts. Soon enough you were standing in a stall with Joan.
"Whats up" you asked tiredly, Joan didn't look half as nervous as Gandhi did, probably because she hasn't owed you $5 since the 6th grade.
"Ok, before you judge me, let me explain what happened first!" she says with wide eyes
"Basically, what happened was... "
FLASHBACK
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"Did you hear about that party Catherine the Great's throwing" Gandhi whispered, Abe looked at him quickly, "No? She's throwing a party? When? Is Cleo gonna be there?!" he babbled.
"Probably, but I doubt she'd invite us... Unless we had a way in" Joan smiled to herself, "I have an idea" Joan said.
"Yeah! Last weeks trip was sooooo wild right Gandhi?" Joan exclaimed loudly, Gandhi looked at all the eyes on him and immediately hid himself behind some menus.
"Right Gandhi??" Joan pushed, "O-oh yeah, totally! What did we do? Acid was it?" he yelled, "What are you guys talking about? We didn't do anything last wee-ouch!" Joan kicked Abe in the shin from beneath the table.
"Yeah! Huh thank goodness I brought the stuff!" Joan continues. Now, more than a few eyes were on them, almost the whole diner was looking their direction.
"Oh yeah, I know TONS of dealers!" Joan exclaimed, Catherine looked at her with the biggest smile ever, "You do!?" she overheard Joan talking at the table behind her.
Catherine jumped into the booth next to Joan, "Yeah, I do, why? do you need anything?" asked Joan.
"Yeah I do actually! I don't know if you heard but I'm throwing this party next Friday, and it would be totally lame without something to spice it up" Catherine frowned
"But if you have something, you guys could totally come" she says with a smile, "YES! Yes! We can totally have some by next Friday!" Gandhi declares, while standing on the booth.
"Wait-" Joan could barely get a word out before Catherine interrupted her with a clap, "Cool! You guys are totally invited! Don't forget the stuff or else I'll be totally pissed, anyways, thanks! See you at the party!" Catherine swiftly grabbed her purse and exited the diner.
"Gandhi.... Why would you do that! How are we supposed to get that much weed by next Friday?!" Joan whisper yelled across the table. "Uhhh I don't know... You think she's into me?" he asks, smiling very widely.
"No Gandhi, she's not- never mind that! You realize the entire school is going to be at this party? There's no way we're gonna get it in time!" Joan sighs.
Gandhi gulps, realizing the gravity of is rash decision making, "W-well, I think I know someone"
END OF FLASHBACK
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"So yeah.. That's what happened" Joan sighed, you rubbed your face, the situation already stressing you out to the max
"And you waited till Friday morning to tell me?" you ask. "Well Gandhi wouldn't stop getting all scared to ask you! Just please help me out, I'll do your homework for the whole rest of the year if you do this ONE LITTLE thing for me!" Joan begs.
"I wish I could but I don't even smoke sooo I don't know why Gandhi would even tell you to ask me, I'm sorry but I wish I could-" Joan grabbed your shoulders tightly.
"What do you mean you don't smoke? You mean you know people who do right? Gandhi told me you were close friends with Jesus" Joan panicked.
"What? No I went to middle school with Jesus, but we weren't close, and no, I don't know anyone who does" you tell her.
"Ah! That's it! I'll go talk to Jesus! He'll have something!" she cheered. The more you thought about it, the more you just couldn't shake it, why on earth would Gandhi think you were close with Jesus?
"Hey Joan! Before you go, did Gandhi tell you why he thought Jesus and I were close?" Joan quickly gathered her things before heading out to class.
"He said he talks about you a lot or something, anyways thank you so much! I'll see you at the party tonight right?" she asks,"Yup" and just like that she was gone.
You sat down next to Frida, only a few minutes later than usual. "What was that all about?" Frida whispers over the monotone teacher's lecture.
"It's kind of a long story but basically, Catherine the Great is throwing a party tonight, and Gandhi told her he has a ton of weed that he could take to the party" you explain.
"Ok? So what does that have to do with you?" Frida asks, "Well, the problem is Gandhi doesn't have any weed, so he asked me if I had anything because... Because apparently he thought I was 'close' with Jesus" you say.
"Jesus Christo?" she looks at me shocked, "Yeah, isn't that weird? Joan said he talks about me a lot or something" you say.
"Huh weird, maybe he likes you!" Frida teases,"No way! Shut up" you giggle "Anyways, we're going to that party right?" Frida asks, "Oh for sure" you smile, fist bumping Frida.
"Kahlo, L/N, something you wanna share?" Mr Bonner asks, Frida only pops a bubble loudly in response. "Alrighty" Mr Bonner moves on quickly.
LUNCH TIME
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"Why did you tell me that she knew a guy?" Joan quizzed, Gandhi rubbed his head "Well it's not my fault! Jesus won't shut up about some girl in English! Maybe it wasn't her!" Gandhi sighed, "We're totally not gonna make it to that party huh" he whined.
"We will as soon as you go talk to Jesus-" Joan starts, Gandhi stands up triumphantly, "That's it! I'll go talk to Jesus!" he says, walking towards his table.
"Almost like that's what I just said" Joan sighs while putting a spoonful of peas into her mouth.
Jesus was sitting pretty deep into the cafeteria, with a group of other stoner kids, he was surprisingly sober. "Hey, can I talk to you... Alone" all the laughing stopped immediately.
"Of course homes, whats going on?" he asks with his usual fluid voice, ending up in the hallway together, Gandhi began to explain the circumstance he found himself in.
"You smoke weed right?" Gandhi awkwardly asks, "'Course I do homes"... "Well uh, I'm kind of in a tough spot.. You see I kinda...overestimated... And I’m gonna need some- a lot of weed actually, I can pay you! I just- please man" Gandhi explains.
Jesus hums to himself, "oohhh I see, you promised someone a lot of stuff but then you actually didn't have anything but you need it cuz if you don't they'll get all angry? I been there before homes I been there" he says.
"So you'll help me?! Thanks man! You have no idea-" Gandhi's cheers were quickly interrupted, "Ehh I would, tch but I'm fresh out homes, and my plugs outta town" Jesus shrugs.
"Dude! Are you serious right now?!" Gandhi whines, "Stone cold homes" Jesus says bluntly, Gandhi whines loudly.
Jesus laughs loudly, "Haha! You shoulda seen your face homes! You were all like uuughhhhhh!" he laughs. "Wait so you were joking?" Gandhi looks up at him with hopeful eyes.
"Of course man, but I'll only help you on one condition ey" Gandhi looks at him, he would do absolutely anything to get laid at this point, "Whatever it is, I'll do it just tell me who I have to kill-"
"Woah relax, take a hit! You say you'll do anything ey?" Jesus holds out his pinky finger, "Anything" Gandhi pinky promises.
"That was a pinky promise homes, that means it's sacred ey, if you break it, something bad will happen, something very very bad" he puts his arm around Gandhi.
Gandhi gulps, "Of course man!" he says nervously, having absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into.
"Alright alright, I want you to set me up with that one super hot chick with the H/S, Y/N, man I had my eye on her since middle school homes, I just been too scared to talk to her and you pinky promised so now you have to homes" Jesus smiled
Gandhi was relieved it wasn't something as bad as he thought it would be, but don't get him twisted it was still a very difficult feat.
"Y/N?" Gandhi asks, Jesus pulls his wallet out, he fumbled with it for a moment before unfolding a yearbook page, he slid his finger down the page before reaching her picture.
The yearbook page had been from years before, it was a middle school picture of you, braces gleaming embarrassingly bright, almost popping off the page.
"Ooohh Y/N?! You have a crush on Y/N!?-" Jesus put his hand over Gandhi's Mouth almost immediately, "Shhh ey be quiet homes! Not so loud!" Jesus said.
Gandhi nodded, "ooooohhh I got you man! Your secrets safe with me! You won't regret it!" Gandhi led Jesus out the back door of the school, not to be seen by a single soul.
END OF SCHOOL DAY
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"Do you wanna come over?" you ask Frida, "Nah, I'll skate home today, see you at the party" Frida says her goodbyes before skating away.
Who wouldn't be excited for a party, today was the best day ever!
Oops, spoke too soon...
"Aw come on! Are you kidding me!" the tires were slashed, absolutely demolished, "Well it looks like I'll be getting a ride... Hey Joan! Can I ride with you! My tires are slashed!" you yelled over to the red headed girl.
"Sure, hop in" she says, you hopped into the passenger seat feeling lucky that you wouldn't have to walk home.
The ride to your house was quiet because you couldn't quiet get Jesus off of your mind, you've only spoken like once, what if he really did have a crush on you? I mean why though? you don't know each other at all! Whatever, it's basically the weekend, you should be focusing on yourself right now, yeah!
As Joan pulled up to your house, you thanked her and walked towards the door, thankfully your foster parents were on vacation so you were free to party!
When you check your backpack for your house keys, it's almost like over night you became the most unlucky person on earth because of course your keys were missing!
"For fucks sake" you mumbled to yourself, walking over to Joan's car and stepping back in, "Welp looks like I'm locked out" you smiled to her, "Its cool, now we can get ready for Catherines party together!" you smiled at each other as you drove to Joan’s house.
JOANS HOUSE
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It was almost time for the party, you had put on some makeup, but you couldn't really eat anything because you still couldn't stop thinking about Jesus, what was going on?
"Ugh" Joan grunts next to you, looking at her flip phone with a stressed out expression. "What is it? Did you get the whole weed situation figured out?" you ask
"Yup! Everythings fine! Totally fine I promise!" Joans reaction weren't exactly what you wanted to hear, but it was enough for you not to worry too much.
The minutes ticked by quickly, soon enough you were in Joan’s car listening to the plans for who you were picking up.
"Ok so we're gonna drive to Gandhi's house, park there, pick up his van, and then we're picking up Abe and Jesus. Gandhi said we were taking a quick pitstop somewhere but he didn't say where" Joan explains.
You didn't think before you spoke "Wait Jesus is coming with us?" you blurt out. Joan looked at you confused, "Yeah, is something wrong?" she asked.
"No, nothing, also whats that pitstop? He didn't say anything about it?" you asked, as Joan put the car in drive, she looked at you and smiled, "Nope!"
Soon enough you were in a sticky van with Abe, Joan, Ghandi and Jesus. "Ok so where is this pitstop? You said it was on the way" Joan says.
Jesus leaned over the passenger seat from the back, pointing towards street ahead, "Just keep going this way homes, I'll tell you when to stop" the car was mostly silent other than Abe and Ghandi talking about all the girls they would bang at the party.
"Eyy how have you been Y/N, I haven't seen you since the 8th grade homes, how's it going" Jesus was sprawled across the van from me, picking the shag carpet lightly.
You're eyes widened suddenly at the sudden sound of your name "Well I've been alright, how about you" I replied shyly, Jesus sighs "Nothing much..." he trails off, still picking the carpet.
"I see you grew out that catfish stash" you joke, "Eyy don't trash Jesus Junior" he laughed while combing his goatee.
"Ey you remember when that one guy with the bug eyes threw up in gym and the teacher got all angry cuz he was throwing up everywhere and then bug eyed kid threw up on the teacher?" he giggles
"Kinda, wasn't that Tommy G?" you thought, "Yeah! Oh man, I'll never forget the look on your face, you were all like" Jesus widened his eyes an made an over exaggerated shocked expression with his mouth.
"I did not look like that!" you pushed his shoulder slightly, "Eh I think you did N/N" he pokes. N/N?...N/N, he gave you a nickname, and you actually liked it.
Jesus wasn't as serious as you thought he'd be, he looks a little intimidating from the outside, but now that you'd talked talked to him he was actually really cool!
"Ey stop right there homes" Jesus leaned over the passenger seat, Joan stopped the car quickly. "That's his place, we gotta break in there and get the stuff" Jesus says calmly.
"Break in?! I thought you said you were joking!" Ghandi panicks, "I lied, sorry about that, but ey relax it'll be easy, we'll need someone to distract the guard dog while I sneak in and get it" Jesus explains.
It was about 9 o'clock at night, the neighborhood was very sketchy, definitely not the best place for a group of teenagers to be.
After a lot of yelling and "not its" Gandhi spoke up, "I'll go" he sighs, everyone looked at him shocked "I'm the one who got us into this, and I'm gonna get us to that party or die trying!" he declares.
"Gandhi.." Joan whispers, Jesus smiles, "Great, lets go". Gandhi and Jesus stepped out of the van, sneaking over to the side of the house.
"Ok, I'm gonna put you over the fence and then I'm gonna go in through the window and let the dog out, you have to keep him busy for about 5 minutes homes, you think you can do that?" Jesus explained the plan to him.
Gandhi high fived Jesus and nodded. I watched from the window as Gandhi hopped onto Jesus's shoulders dropping into the backyard.
Jesus snuck in through an open window, the big dog barked loudly at Gandhi outside of the screen door, Jesus opened it and from the van all we heard was...
"Ahh!!! Good boy! Ouch come on hurry up man!" Gandhi was running in circles away from the angry dog.
A few minutes of loud barking was interrupted by Jesus jumping over the fence with a half naked Gandhi.
They jumped into the van almost so fast that you didn't see them, "GO! GO DRIVE JOAN HURRY!" Gandhi yelled.
The van sped off, throwing you and Gandhi onto Jesus, you looked up at him, he smiled widely, not in a creepy way but in more of an 'it's cool' sorta way.
The car gradually slowed down, "Did you get it" Gandhi huffs, Jesus reaches into his jacket, pulling out a big bag of weed, "I got rolling paper too, N/N's gonna help me roll them!" he puts his arm around me in a friendly way.
There I was, in the back of a van rolling blunts with Jesus and a mostly naked Gandhi.
As soon as we arrived at the party, everyone nearly went feral at the sight of a blunt, everyone plunged their gross teenage hands into the bag, by the time everyone was satisfied there was only one left.
"Ey N/N, wanna hit this with me?" Jesus offers, you had never smoked before...but you wanted to seem cool to him right now so you swallowed your fear and went for it.
"Sure" Jesus smiled, pulling out his lighter and lead you out of the house, "I've got a perfect spot, check this out homes" Jesus grins
"Ey Gandhi, hold onto this for me, thanks man" Jesus tossed Gandhi his flip phone. Gandhi gave Jesus a thumbs up and a smile, Jesus copied him and continued on his journey.
TIMESKIP
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The party was a full on hit, almost everyone at school was here, on the dance floor was Gandhi, still only in his boxers and socks, but that didn't matter now! It was party time!
'BZZZZT! BZZZZT!'
Jesus's phone buzzed in Gandhis sweaty boxers, causing him to forget that it wasn't his phone "Hey! Wuzzzaaapp!!!" he slurs into the speaker.
"Ey wussup homie, yo check this, I'm heading home in a few, I gotta new stash of some real crazy shiz, herbal blend type shit, anways, you should stop by homes I'll be at the crib in a few" the voice on the other line spoke.
Gandhi's heart dropped for the millionth time that night, "T-totally, ey I gotta go bye" he hung up quickly, saving his ass in the process.
Gandhi shoved his way through the crowd to the kitchen where he found Joan downing a can of beer, "uh Joan?" Gandhi yells over the music.
"Heyy, hows it goin~ do you think I should dye my hair blue??? Or is it just me-you know I feel great right now-" Joan immediately lurched over the sink and puked herself sober
"Joan! We have a serious problem!" Gandhi yells, Joan wearily lifts her head up, "What is it this time" she asks.
"Well uh, Jesus's plug is coming back... Tonight.... Right now.." He explains, Joan looked at him with wide eyes, "oh my god! Were gonna go to jail for breaking and entering! We're criminals Gandhi! Filthy! Dirty criminals!" Joan cries.
Gandhi thinks for a second, "Well not if we put it all back!" he proposes, Joan furrowed her brows "Lets go!" she drags Gandhi by his shoulder back to the van.
"What about Jesus and Y/N?! We can't just leave the-" Joan put her finger up to Gandhi's lips, "There's no time! We gotta hurry! Hop in the back and start putting the little crumbs into the bag-"
As Joan pulled the van doors open widely, a shocking scene appeared, you were only in your bra and bottoms, you're shirt thrown off to the side lazily, along with Jesus's jacket. You were placed on his lap, him holding himself up on his elbows.
Joan looked at the two of you with wide eyes, "Eyy up top!" Gandhi holds his hand up expectingly, only to be shoved into the van.
As the car sped off, you swiftly grabbed your shirt and tried your best to fan the herbal mist out the window. "Sooo did you guys go.....all the way?" Gandhi asks with a perverted grin.
You thought back at the moments before they arrived, your adrenaline still pumping from the excitement of doing something you weren't supposed to.
FLASHBACK
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Jesus led you back out to Gandhi's van. He opened the back doors for you, letting you in first then soon hopping in behind. "Ey we can hotbox" he smiles.
You were quite nervous, this being one of the rare occasions of you being alone with a boy. "Ey have you ever done this before? You look hella nervous" Jesus says while preparing to flick the lighter
"What are you talking about? I-I do this all the time" you lie, he looks at you blankly for a moment, "Kidding.. " you cringe at yourself, why would you say that, like why?
Jesus lights the joint, the herbal smell already filling the vehicle, he takes a long, beep breath in, sighing happily when he's finished.
"Here" he hands the joint to you, you take it cautiously, not really knowing what to do. Building your courage up, you slowly drew the joint closer to your lips, 'don't embarrass yourself'
"HACK HACK!" as soon as you tried to take a deep breath in, violent coughs errupted from your throat, this could't possibly get any worse
"Woah, you alright?" he pats your back gently, "no" you strain. Jesus sits you up gently, taking the joint from your hands he smiles.
"Tch, no need to be embarrassed, it happens to everyone" he grins. You tried your best to not run out of the van and into oncoming traffic.
"Ey how about we shotgun" he suggests, you look at him curiously, what the hell is shotgunning? You just looked at him blankly.
"Come here" he says gently, you sat uncomfortably close to him face to face, your cheeks getting warmer by the second.
You watched as he placed the joint between his soft lips, you couldn't help but look into his deep black eyes, wondering what kind of person layed behind them, just out of your reach.
He as he breathed in, crazy thoughts ran through your mind, you thought about kissing him....With tongue!
He came a little bit closer and blew the smoke into your face, you breathed it in, the task now feeling a lot easier.
"Tch see, I knew you could do it" he jokes, you laugh a little causing you to cough lightly. "Wanna try again?" he grins expectantly.
You thought about it, even if you guys did make out, it probably wouldn't turn into anything, but that might be a better reason to do it! But it's just all so confusing!
"Sure" you smile as he came closer. Nothing could stop you now, you would have his tongue in your mouth by the end of the night, even if it killed you!
Just like before, he dragged the smoke into his mouth, then he blew the smoke into your face, getting just a little bit closer than last time.
You couldn't tell if it was the marijuana, or if it was some newly grown balls, but you knew that the next shotgun, you would kiss him.
And sure enough when he came close, and blew the smoke into your face, you pressed your lips gently onto his, moving your lips gently on his.
The joint was long forgotten by the time you held onto his jacket, pulling his lips closer. It felt liberating! You pulled away, his face was slightly red, his hat and halo shitfed slightly.
His eyes were glued to you, he couldn't believe this was happening, Y/N L/N was making out with him in a van outside of Catherine the Greats house!
He leaned up, not wanting this moment to end, he kissed you passionately, holding your cheeks softly, he couldn't get enough of you.
The two of you ended up on the floor, you on top of him. He held onto your hips as you removed your shirt revealing your lacy bra. Jesus's eyes widened, you felt something unfamiliarly hard beneath your crotch, but you and I both know what that was.
He sat himself on his elbows, watching as you unbuttoned his jacket tantalisingly slow. With each button, you kissed him.
He lifted his hand up to move some stray pieces of hair out of your face, that's when the van doors suddenly opened. "Ah!" you yelped, Jesus only looked at the figures with a shocked expression.
The figures turned out to be Gandhi and Joan. Joan looked at the two of you with disgust, while Gandhi grined widely "Eyy! Up top!" he puts his hand up expectingly, only to be shoved into the back by Joan.
END OF FLASHBACK
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"What with the rush homes?" Jesus questions, Gandhi fills the two of you in on the situation, you not being able to focus too well thanks to the events that occured prior.
"Where are we supposed to get all of that? Is he gonna kill us? This is totally freaking me out!" Joan panicks. The car swerves wildly throughout the city, both Gandhi and Joan screaming with fear.
This situation had sobered you slightly, you thought carefully about what you could do to fix the situation, you thought a little bit but then you remembered!
"STOP THE CAR!" you yelled, the whole car went silent at the sound of your loud voice. Joan pulled over cautiously, as soon as the car came to a halt, everyone looked back at you expectantly.
"I have an idea"
TIMESKIP
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There you Jesus, Joan, and Gandhi were in all black, ski masks keeping your identities a secret. The four of you stood outside of the hospital, "If I'm correct, theres medical marijuana in there, and I know it might not be the same thing but its our last hope" you sigh.
All four of you walked up to the window, you held Gandhi up to the window, "Remember, try to be stealthy!" you whisper, he nods, holding his hand like a gun, "agent tan incoming" he says
That's when he dove through the window, shattering it loudly, the three of you left outside cringed, but it was too late to chicken out.
Jesus lifted you up into the window, next was Joan, then finally you and Joan pulled Jesus up. Gandhi stood there against the wall, holding his hands like guns, "I told you to be quiet! Theres security here!" you scold.
Gandhi keeps his mouth shut, still playing into his stoic agent act." alright, my foster mom works here, she talks about the stash all the time, it should be on the third floor" you say.
The four of you tiptoed through the hospital, trying your best not to be caught by staff or patients, but it was getting pretty hard since Gandhi was apparently addicted to acting stupid.
Once you made it to the third floor, you took a bag each, jackpot! You all quietly celebrated, thats when you heard keys jingling at the door.
You, Joan and Jesus all dove behind some shelves, Gandhi stood in front of the door. The door opened revealing a tall muscular man in a security guard outfit.
"Stop right there! You have the right to remain tan!" Gandhi shouts while diving out the window, you face palmed. But it wasn't the time for shenanigans, it was now or never.
The three of you ran for it, exiting the hospital swiftly, on your way out you found Gandhi hanging on a tree branch, you grabbed him and ran to the van, making a swift getaway!
As soon as you guys made it to calm ground, you all took a big breath of relief, but there was still one last thing to do.
As Joan drove towards the drug dealers home, a calming silence fell amongst you. You sat next to Jesus, leaning your head on his shoulder.
He tapped you on your leg, you looked into his eyes, "When this is all over, wanna hangout sometime?" he asks shyly, you smile "sure" you whisper.
Closing your eyes gently for just a moment to collect your mind. Unbeknownst to you, Gandhi gave Jesus a thumbs up, Jesus doing the same.
Once the car parked, Joan looked back "Jesus, this is it, don't fail us now" she says seriously, he just nods and heads off into the home through the window.
You all waited with anticipation, watching silently. Thats when a red car suddenly pulled up, it was the dealer! You started to sweat, what if he got caught? Or worse...shot?
You could tell that Gandhi and Joan were thinking the same thoughts, thats when suddenly, out of the shadows, Jesus came rushing out from behind the home!
He hopped into the van with all of us cheering for our victory, "Drive!" we all yelled.
We ended up at The Grassy Knoll, parked in the parking lot enjoying our shakes and fries.
"That was crazy! Did you guys see how I dove out of that window! I was so badass! I was like 'shing! bam! Kapow!' stop right there" he says the last part with an over exaggerated deep voice.
We all laughed at his interpretation of the situation, we all sat watching the sun rise together peacefully.
"Wait, wheres Abe?" Gandhi pipes up.
MEANWHILE
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"Where am I?" a disgruntled Abraham Lincoln asks. He was fully naked on a pool floaty, beer cans surrounding him in the water.
"Joan? Y/N?! GANDHI?!"
THE END
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143 notes · View notes
jordisblogg · 7 months
Text
producer!shuri x singer!reader hcs
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📝: i’ve been thinking about producer!shuri a lil too muchhh.
the whole producer!shuri idea is from @/venusdraco (who’s unfortunately deactivated but ima still give credit!!)
⁀➷
meeting:
✰. -you were sitting on the phone with one of your friends, tems, specifically, ranting on about how you need to find a good beat before the deadline for your new single. you've tried going to london, metro boomin, drumma boy, he'll you even tried to make one yourself, but you couldn't find the right sound you were looking for.
“you know, i've got this friend who's done some of the beats on my songs, she's really good. she’s known for her afro beats but i’m sure she could help you out. i could give you her contact if you want."
you rubbed your temples, 'i’m up for anything at this point.”
✰. you had texted her later on
“hey i'm tems' friend, y/n, idk if she told u about me, but i rily need help and she told me to come to u"
“yeah she told me.i can hook you up, when are you free?”
✰. you both scheduled a date that would work for the two of you and you crossed your fingers and your toes that this would be it, that she was the one who could help you.
✰. you woke up bright and early the day of and got ready, not wanting to keep shuri waiting. when you walked in the studio she was sitting in one of the chairs by the sound booth, man spread, hair freshly curled with a pair of shades perched on top of them, wearing a black nike tech, gold chains adorning her neck. she looked good, really good.
✰. her head perked up and she turned to you, “hey, you ready to get started?”
✰.it had been a good 10-15 minutes and you think you both were getting somewhere. but you could hardly focus. shuri’s cologne was getting all up in your nose, she smelled intoxicating.
✰. and the way her tattooed fingers turned the knobs on the booth to how she nodded her head softly to the beat. and her jawline?? don’t even get me started—
“here, listen to this” you hadn’t even realized you just spaced out on her. you watched her put her headphones over your ears.
you stared into space as the low beat played. it was melodic, soft.
once it ended you took the headphones off and set them in your lap. “well?”
you smiled, “i love it.”
✰. your single ended up being nominated and won an billboard music award. you couldn’t have been happier. (song is at the top)
✰.once the event was over and you collected your flowers you took your ride back to your luxury apartment.
just as you were placing your award on a shelf, (you still needed somewhere to put it) you got a notification. you pulled your phone out, a text from shuri.
‘congratulations, beautiful, you earned it.🎉’
you smiled, hard. you feel like you wouldn’t have gotten this award if it weren’t for shuri. you needed to repay her somehow.
and beautiful???
‘thank u so so much, shuri. i couldn’t have done this without you. how can i ever repay u’
‘let me take you out to dinner’
dating:
✰. even though you have more than enough money to take care of yourself, shuri still spends on you.
you could be on the phone telling her the new fendi bag you’re gonna buy and then the next morning you see a cash-app of 3500 with the caption ‘just because❤️’ but you knew why.
✰.she’s always going to give you princess treatment.
anywhere you wanna go, she takes you. anything you want, she gets you. money is no problem for her. (shawty bae already a queen, producing just adding to that)
✰. when she has to fly out for sessions/bookings, she always takes you with her.it helps make the trip bearable even if she’s cool with the client.
✰. she always sends you big bouquets of roses once out the week (she would send you more but the last time she did, you told her you didn’t have anywhere to put the others)
✰. you both are regularly in the studio, so you don’t really have a whole lot of time with each other. but when she finally gets to see you, she can never let you go.
following up on that, shuri’s very clingy and overprotective of you, not that you don’t mind, mainly cause your the same way. when you’re both at events, she doesn’t do a lot of mingling, even when the other artists try to talk to her, she’ll talk to them, still being right next to you.
✰. a few days after you two started dating, you were both chilling up in a club and you both got a little caught up in each other and the alcohol. the next morning you had woke up to a bunch of notifications on instagram and tiktok. everyone knew about your relationship. and for once, theshaderoom wasn't wrong about something.
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you scrolled thru all the comments, some good, some bad.
"well, at least all those other bitches know who i belong to" she says as she lazily wraps her arms around your waist.
✰. likes to put your voicemail’s or just your voice in general on some of her tracks.
✰. your each other's plus one to every event, whether your nominated or not. you both always try to match for the red carpet, whether that be jewelry or clothes.
✰. shuri had originally been in wakanda playing with beats with her cousin, erik, who had taught her a few tricks. and after the death of her brother and mother she moved down to the states to get away from pressure, but she still devotes most of her life to her technology.
✰. she loves to take pictures of her baby, most of her camera roll is of either you or pics or you and her, either way you’re in them.
in fact her lock screen is literally a picture of you asleep on her chest, bonnet half on and drool seeping from your lips.
“shuri change that right now!”
“but you look so cute!”
✰. she goes to all of your concerts. and when your up on stage, you make sure to point her out. and when you both do a collab you bring her on stage and the fans eat it up every time.
✰. her nicknames for you are most definitely baby, my love, mama, princess etc.
✰. your contact in her phone is ‘umfazi’ (wife) because she knows you’re the one she’s going to marry.
✰. most of your songs are about times you’ve spent with her.
✰. shuri told you about her first time hearing your voice. she was hanging out with her friends for the night and they had bought tickets to your show, shuri wasn’t aware of who you were at the time, mainly because you were still coming up.
when she had saw you up on stage, it was like the world had stopped moving. your voice was so angelic, she felt like she was in a trance. and god you were gorgeous. you still are.
“i knew then that you were destined for greatness.”
“how come you never came up to me?”
“time wasn’t right, but i ended up bagging you in the end”
“oh shut up”
✰. it’s a known fact, shuri smokes weed. when she got together she wanted to make sure you were okay with it or not. when you told her that you partook in it, you were now her designated smoking buddy.
bongs, pens, smokes, edibles. it didn’t matter.
✰. shuri’s told you once before that even though you do it for show, she does get a little jealous when you bring other girls up on stage and get a little too touchy for her liking.
but you always tell her that she’s the only one for you. you’ve even had to explain that to her press.
“so y/n, we’ve seen that during your shows you’ve constantly brought up girls on stage with you. how does your girlfriend, shuri, think about this? have you had any conversations about it?”
“one, my girlfriend has already told me her thoughts on the matter and yes we’ve had conversations about it, two, i bring up my audience to give them a chance to feel like they’re really apart of the show y’know?”
✰. during interviews, shuri can’t help but smile at the mention of you. i mean full on cheesing!
“we’ve noticed you and y/n have been getting pretty serious, taking her out on private flights, fancy dinners, take it things must be goin smoothly, yeah?”
the corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk, “yeah, i always give my princess what she asks for”
✰. she doesn’t like to argue with you because the second she sees a tear role down your cheek, your lip quiver, or hears a tremble in your voice, she’s crumbling, scooping you up in her arms and rocking you back and forth, repeatedly kissing your temple and chanting apologies in your skin.
“i’m sorry baby, i’m sorry. please forgive me”
✰. she teaches you xhosa every time you ask. she giggles at how you pronounce the words, putting clicks at the wrong time.
“shuri stop laughing!”
“haha.. i’m sorry mama, cmon i’ll help you”
✰. will always do your nightly with you. she won’t tell you, but she secretly loves doing face masks.
✰. that girl stays in sweats, don’t matter what type of weather. winter? sweat suit. summer? t-shirt and sweat SHORTS.
“shuri come on wear some jeans with me, we supposed to be matching!”
“we are! your jeans are blue and my sweatpants are blue”
“ouu— you piss me off”
“kodwa uyayithanda” (but you love it)
✰. ever since that first meeting, you barely go to anyone else for your beats, unless necessary, in your opinion shuri knew how to do your genre of music, and pretty well, so there was no point in going to anyone else.
(plus it’s free.99)
✰. your facetime calls range from 5-24 hours. mainly because y’all don’t know how to say bye to each other.
“i love you baby, get some rest”
“i love you more”
“oh did you hear about that guy who was at drake’s concert?”
“no? tell me!”
bonus:
just because you’re constantly going to shuri to help with your music don’t mean y’all don’t have any complications.
“nooo— im talkin’ ‘bout dum dum doo duh”
“that’s what i just did??”
“no you did dun boom dun dun”
“what??”
“SHURI OH MY GOSH”
“STOP SCREAMING AT ME”
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ghostboneswrites2 · 29 days
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Bit || One Shot
New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!
A/N// This was the first one shot I ever posted here! This was the story that started everything lol
Summary: You were bitten before he found you.
18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: sad, death, profanity
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        The sounds of the forest lulled you in and out of sleep. Sun rays rained down through the leaves. A lovely sight when you could manage to open your eyes. Your back against a tree, sweat beading over your forehead, you winced in pain. Your whole body ached. Down to your very bones, pain was present. The fever was raging, boiling you from within. You scolded yourself internally. How could you let it come to this?
        You recalled the chain of events that led you here. You knew you were taking a risk when you tried to loot that old store, but you had no idea just how bad it could get. The coast was clear when you went in, but somehow there were tens of them when you came back out. You ran as fast as you could but there were just so many. Eventually you slowed down, got tired, but they didn't. They never did. They were mindless killing machines. Exhaustion meant nothing to them.
        They caught up with you. You fought. You fought hard, but they won. They always did. This time, you were just the unlucky loser. You got bit, but you took it down. The adrenaline and fear from the bite kicked you back into gear. You ran again, and didn't stop until the fever debilitated you. Damn, was it fast. A single bite, and your life was over. What a sick joke.
        You thought you heard footsteps in the distance but you made no effort to investigate. You were already gone. It was probably a straggler, coming to finish you off, or a person strolling by that might show you some mercy and put a bullet in your skull. No, not a bullet. They wouldn't draw that much attention to themselves. Maybe a quick knife through the base of your skull, that would work nicely.
        A crunch snapped your eyes open, and a pair of long, grungy gray jeans stood before you. You followed the pants up to a shirt, then up to a face. It was hard to make out with the bright sun behind it.
        "Ya bit?" A gruff voice asked. It was weird how it sounded like you were under water, or like they were a mile away. You held your arm up, displaying the wound. You dared not look, but the smell told you all you needed to know. It was bad. "'M sorry." They grunted sympathetically, turning and walking away.
        "Wait." You croaked. They stopped. "Don't let me die alone." You begged.
        The person stood for a moment, back turned to you, seemingly considering your request. After a few moments they turned back and sat down against a tree right across from you. Down at your level you could make out the stranger as a handsome archer with his crossbow sat right beside him. His knees were up with his hands rested on top of them as he eyed you curiously, a hint of sadness in those narrowed eyes.
        "What's your name?" You asked.
        "Daryl." He said.
        "(Y/N)." You told him, coughing a little.
        "How'd ya get bit?"
        "Looting a store. There was too many."
        "'M  sorry." He repeated.
        "Yeah, me too." You chuckled, humorlessly. You groaned at a random ache. "You know, my dad always told me pain lets you know you're still alive. I don't feel so alive right now."
        "My brother always said the same thing." He confessed. "How long ago ya get bit?"
        "Don't know. Fever's getting bad though. I'll be out of your hair soon."
        "Ain't botherin'  me. Got nothin' better to do." He shrugged.
        "Really? Nothing better than watching me die?"
        "Nah. Shouldn't have to do it alone." He told you. You offered a weak smile.
        "Nice guy. Cute too. Wish we met under different circumstances. got a cigarette?"
        He tossed you one, and a lighter. You lit it and resisted a cough, enjoying the burn in your lungs as they filled with smoky chemicals.
        "Sound like my brother. Askin' for a smoke in your last moments." He said.
        "Brother sounds like my kind of people." You croaked.
        "Nah, he was real ass." He said, sadly.
        "Was?"
        "He was bit, too."
        "Sorry to hear it. All my family's gone."
        "Sorry to hear it."
        "Nah," you smiled sadly. "They died in a crash. Before all this. Glad they didn't have  to live this way. Or, die this way, in my case. Just hate that their memory and mine dies with me."
        "I won't forget ya." He assured. 
        "Guess that's  worth something." You rasped. "Thanks for staying."
        "Surprised you didn't ask me to put you out. Looks like it hurts."
        "Yeah." You nodded. "Hurts bad. To be honest you're the first friendly face I've seen in weeks. Might as well enjoy it 'til I can't."
        His throat tightened a little. He was sad for you. To have felt so lonely you'd suffer to the end just to feel the presence of another person.
        "'M sorry." He said again.
        "Don't be." You told him. "Got nothing to be sorry for. You're here with me now, that's more than I could've asked for. You got a group or somethin'?"
        "Mhm. Got a prison we took. It's safe. Fences, walls, gardens."
        "Damn. Now that's somethin' I would've liked to see."
        "I would've took you there." He said. 
        "Too bad." You coughed. "Too bad, indeed"
        You were getting paler by the minute. Your eyes could barely open. He took in your features, noting to remember your pretty face. He wouldn't let you go forgotten, because that was what he told you. Your breathing was so shallow he couldn't see your chest rise anymore.
        "Ya still there?" He asked.
        "Mm." You grunted. "Still here."
        "You wanna be buried?" 
        "You walk around with a shovel?"
        "Nah. Prison's not far. I can bury you there, next to our people."
        "Oh." You breathed. "That's real nice." 
        "We bury our people." He said, recalling Glenn's words that day outside Atlanta after the camp got attacked by walkers. Daryl was gonna burn all the bodied, but Glenn insisted their own people be buried properly. He'd be sure to extend that same sentiment to you.
        "That's good. Humanity prevails, and all that shit." 
        "Somethin' like that."
        It grew silent again. He watched you closely. 
        "(Y/N)?" He called. No response. His heart sped up. "(Y/N)." He said, louder. You were gone. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the feelings of despair as he stood and walked over to you. He gently pulled your head forward and plunged his blade into the back of your head. He looked you over, noticing a rope necklace around your neck with some wooden beads strung over it. He untied it from the back of your neck and tied it around his own, before he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the prison.
        When he arrived, he got plenty of questioning stares. Rick approached him.
        "You know her?" He asked.
        "Just met her. She was bit. Asked me to stay." Daryl said as he laid your body down gently on the grass. It took him over an hour to dig your grave, and a good while to fashion a marker for your grave. He stood there over your buried body for a while, wondering what life could have been for you if he found you earlier, if he found you before the bite, if you lived to see another day. He wiped the signal tear he shed for you before retreating inside, to his cell, to seclude himself and mourn the potential that was lost with your life.
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graysnetwork · 10 months
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REQUEST: @imarriedchrisredfield Can I request for something like Luis and Reader had an affair when they were younger, and they somehow see each other again during the events of RE4, still having feelings?
This has gotta be the one fic where I took way too long to write js because I didn’t want to write at all.
I’m sorry for the wait, hopefully it’s good enough to your liking, and I honestly might even make another part because I feel like reader and Luis should have a happy ending.
Anyways, hopefully you like it.
WEAK — LUIS SERRA x GN!READER
Notes— if I accidentally didn’t put GN pronouns, then lmk
Warnings: being chained up, cursing, mentions of mbing from reader, I think that’s it 🤷🏻‍♀️ lmk if there’s anything else
Summary: while you and your partner Leon are on a mission in Spain rescuing the presidents daughter, you two find someone Luis you have a past with.
When you were 23 you met a Luis Serra at your job, you two were colleagues. And you two became very close, very quickly. Somewhere in the middle you two began to get closer in other ways. There was no doubt he was handsome, you were absolutely head over heels for him. He was too sweet and flirty with you.
So finally after he broke up with his girlfriend, (who’d been neglecting his affection) you two finally began dating, dates turned into long nights together, and then you two were together, inseparable. Very good workers still.
But then you found out what umbrella was really up to. It wasn’t what you stood for, so you left. You quit and tried finding another job. Luis on the other hand had no idea why you resigned. You didn’t tell him what the matter was, solely because he was the best scientist there, and he loved his job.
Luis was clueless as to why you left but he supported your decision no matter what, he offered to let you stay with him even more as you continued to find another job.
You denied him, you loved him, told him you loved him but bothering him with staying at his place wasn’t your thing. You’d rather not be a burden.
Then the DSO reached out to you and asked (forced) you to work for them. And soon when you did , you disappeared from the city you lived in.
And from Luis’ life.
At that point you’d been forgetting your life before the DSO, it took up your whole time, the training, the files, and reports. They took up your life and you forgot what type of things you used to get up to.
and You forgot about Luis.
Now you were with your usual partner Leon in Spain rescuing the Presidents daughter from a man who claims to be “Lord saddler”
The whole thing was odd, you both knew that, but it was not out of the ordinary for you two, not when you guys have both been through worse because of your jobs.
Soon you were walking around checking the surroundings while Leon wandered, you heard him saying something in the distance ahead of you but it was inaudible.
Finally when you did reach him you noticed him crouched over a body bag, had he found a dead zombie again? You wondered, but why would he be staring and examining it?
When you did finally turn back around and look down at the bag you saw the same handsome man you used to fool around with.
That’s the last thing you had seen before you were knocked out from behind. Now Leon was shouting at you to wake up, and when you did, you were chained up to Leon and.. Luis.
You tugged harshly nod the chains almost immediately “ya párale” Luis told you annoyingly, same old Luis who hated being tugged around, though he never minded it when it was you.
You let out an airy chuckle “since when were you one to get mad at me” you asked, Leon seemed more focused on getting out of these chains then listening to your question.
“No estoy enojado” he replied, “yeah right, what are you even doing here?” You asked again. “ya sabes… las cosas pasan” he sounded hesitant at first to say that.
Finally when the chains did break another man came into the room, though the people here are very, very far removed from humans. And when Luis grabbed the key he left the two of you to stay tied up.
Again you found him, motioning you, Leon, and Ashley to enter a building, away from the ganados. After the whole interaction of Leon pushing him against the wall for leaving the two of you, and after you all had to fight off some disgusting ganados, you were stood there catching your breath before Ashley began to cough up some blood.
He then went on to inform you guys that she had now been infected him Las Plagas. Now you had been more worried about her than before.
“Luckily, I can get you guys a cure, with the right type of equipment” Luis explained to the three of you as he showed off his scar on his chest.
Once Leon agreed to be “cured” by him Luis walked off again, explaining he’d be in contact.
“How about y/n goes with you, y’know, so we know your not just fucking with us” Leon suggested, what a terrible suggestion. You had just explained earlier when Luis left that — you two used to know each other, and were dating in the past.
Luis turned around facing you guys, he contemplated for a bit before nodding, “sure, cmon” he said and walked off again, you turned back to Leon, with the most annoyed expression on your face.
“Seems like you two could use a moment to talk” Leon told you, “thanks a lot rookie” you told him, knowing he hated the nickname, but if he wasn’t going to respect you, you weren’t going to respect him.
As the two of you walked for miles on end, Luis didn’t break the silence, and you weren’t going to budge either, he knew that, he still remembers how stubborn you were back then, and he know that that probably did not change.
“your so childish” Luis finally said, you couldn’t respond to that, not without questioning what he meant by that. “You gonna keep giving me the silent treatment mi vida?” He asked.
Finally your feelings took over, your face got hot, maybe even red, your throat went dry and you had to pause and stand there.
The feelings for Luis never vanished, even if you had to deny it, you knew it wasn’t right.
Nights when you remembered how he treated you, like you were the only thing in the world, he was the only person you could think of when you remembered him while trying to feel some type of pleasure.
“I’m not purposely giving you the silent treatment” you told him, still you felt too nervous to look into his eyes, “hm, then why’d you stay silent for years” he asked, mentioning how you left him with now notice.
“You just left without saying anything, did I do something wrong? Is that why you never wanted to live with me?” Luis sounded too hurt, it broke your heart, it slowly cracked that soft part of your heart that was only for Luis. That voice was so terrible to listen to.
“No” you said, no feelings could get caught up in this mission, it might fuck it up. “So then what happened why did you leave?” Luis asked; pulling your arm to make you face him.
You sighed, was this something you could even tell him? You thought quickly, ah fuck it. He’s finally here with you, who cares.
You finally have into your feeling, pulling him into a hug, giving you some sort of peace of mind for the first time in years. Luis had always been someone who could ground you.
“Listen, I’m sorry, the DSO gave me the job, I’m not even allowed to talk about this, but-” you said before you felt tears welling up in your eyes. You were stronger than this, why all of a sudden did Luis make you feel weak?
“Mi amor, calm down” Luis stroked the hair out of your face as he hugged you back, you were saying everything all at once, he needed you to calm down and explain little by little. So he could understand.
“I-I’m sorry Luis, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t” you explained as a few tears fell down your face, but it was the stuffy nose that began to make you sound like you had been crying.
Luis was the only one who could make you feel weak and bring out your emotions like this, only Luis.
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