#there’s only one (1) of these i didn’t make
Text
Used to be Mine
Oscar Piastri x Reader
Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader
Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you
Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”
Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.
“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”
Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”
The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.
Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.
“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.
The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.
All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.
He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.
His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.
“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.
“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.
Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”
There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.
“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.
Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.
“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.
You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”
You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”
Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.
“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”
You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.
“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”
You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”
“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”
You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”
Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”
Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.
“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”
Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”
“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.
Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”
He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.
You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”
Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.
“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.
Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.
“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”
You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.
“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”
The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.
Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.
The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.
***
Six Months Later
The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:
1. C. LECLERC
2. O. PIASTRI
A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.
“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.
Arthur’s gut twists.
Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”
A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”
“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”
You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”
Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.
“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”
Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”
“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”
“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.
But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.
“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”
“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”
Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”
The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.
You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.
“Arthur! There you are!”
He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.
“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.
He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”
“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.
You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”
Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.
“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.
You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”
“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”
“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”
Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.
“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.
Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.
He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.
He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.
“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.
He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.
And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.
Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.
He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.
Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?
He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”
It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.
There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”
Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.
But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.
“Yeah, okay.”
The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.
“Hey … you okay?”
Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.
“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.
And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.
“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”
Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”
Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.
“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”
“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”
Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”
“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”
“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”
“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”
Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”
“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”
“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”
“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”
“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”
Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.
He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”
Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”
As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.
But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.
Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.
He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.
***
Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.
It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.
This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.
You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.
Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.
Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.
“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.
Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”
He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”
“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.
You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”
And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.
Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.
He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.
Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?
Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.
He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.
But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.
Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?
Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.
Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.
Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.
At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.
What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?
It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.
Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.
Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.
White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?
Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-
“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”
Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.
“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.
Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”
“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”
Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.
But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.
Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.
When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.
“Oscar. And Y/N.”
That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.
“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.
Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.
For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”
Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.
“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”
Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.
“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”
Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.
He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.
Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.
Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”
“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”
He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.
They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.
“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”
Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.
“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.
Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.
You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.
“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.
“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”
Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.
“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”
He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?
“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”
Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”
Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”
He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.
“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”
“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.
“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”
“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”
“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”
He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.
“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”
Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”
“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.
“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”
Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”
Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.
As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.
Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.
Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.
It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.
If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.
It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.
His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#arthur leclerc#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#arthur leclerc imagine#oscar piastri x reader#arthur leclerc x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
the curse of monaco
Synopsis: Charles finally breaks the curse of the track that has haunted him his entire life.
Words: 1.4k+
Other works: my masterlist
a/n: this is probably the fastest i've ever written something, so i'm sorry if it sucks a little lol
♡♡♡♡♡
There was nothing like racing through the streets you grew up in, Charles would always say to you.
In all the years you had known him and been with him, he had only had one goal: winning the Monaco Grand Prix.
You didn’t know why that was, whether it was a tribute to his late father, a tribute to Jules or just the pride of knowing he conquered the streets he had walked his entire life. Maybe it was a combination of all 3.
Charles had not been treated well by his home race the past couple of years. 2 DNFs, 1 DNS and 2 disappointing results had plagued his mind, making the weeks leading up to the race filled with more stress than he should carry.
But you had a good feeling this time. Ever since he got into the car in FP1, then topping the charts all throughout FP2 and FP3, you felt something in your gut change. For once, after so many doubtful years, there was no worry and disappointment in your heart as you waited in the garage for the qualifying session of the weekend. Every negative feeling was replaced with hope, so much hope that you didn’t know what to do with it.
Charles was the complete opposite. While he couldn’t deny that the car had finally come alive and he had the pace he needed, he felt like he couldn’t let himself hope too much, not after everything he’d been through.
“Come on, you know I’m right. You’ll be on pole and you’ll win the race” you said to him as you lounged in his driver room, watching him get dressed in his fireproofs and racing suit.
“Mon amour, you know how Monaco is. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed if I don’t get pole or don’t win” he reasoned, but deep down he was feeling the exact same thing you were.
“But this year is going to be different, I know it will!” you pressed on, making him chuckle in adoration at the hear of your determined voice. “Every other driver has said the same thing and every presenter from F1 TV is saying you’re definitely going to break the curse tomorrow”
“Have you been watching F1 TV again to hear what they have to say about me?” he teased, laughing once he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks.
“That’s not the point. I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about tomorrow. But still, no pressure. You go out there, drive safe and come back to me in one piece. If you end up winning, that’s great, but if you don’t, we’ll get them next year. Sounds good?” you bargained, knowing that he didn’t need any more pressure added on his shoulders than he already had.
He sighed but nodded, pausing his actions to give you a kiss.
“Let’s do it then”
And, true to his word, he came back to you, in one piece, starting from pole in the Monaco GP.
♡♡♡♡♡
There was something special in the air as you entered the paddock with Pascale and Arthur, making your way towards the Ferrari hospitality to watch the race. The entire city of Monte Carlo was absolutely buzzing with excitement, the paddock feeling more alive than ever as their home hero prepared to take on the beautiful circuit that was Monaco.
You didn’t see Charles before he got into the car, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of distraction before he started the race, but you couldn’t help sprinting down to the garage during the Red Flag, knowing you had plenty of time before the race would start up again.
Finding him wasn’t hard at all. He was speaking with his mechanics, drinking some water out of his bottle.
You approached him hurriedly, at which he excused himself from the conversation once he saw you approaching him.
“Mon amour, is everything okay? You’re supposed to be with maman, Arthur and Joris up in the hospitality” he said, worry etched on his face.
“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just came down here to wish you good luck, you know, once FIA decides to restart the race” you joked, hoping to make his spirits lift up a little.
He chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the stress sitting behind the facade, the worry and pressure tensing up his muscles and demeanor.
Noticing you studying his face and realizing you knew how stressed he was, he smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist.
“You know we’re proud of you no matter what, right?” you whispered, thankful for the loud sounds of mechanics working left and right that helped drown out your conversation to other people around you.
He sighed, but nodded. “I know, but I just can’t shake the stress. I’ve been quick all weekend and everyone knows that. What if something happens and my race goes to shit like every time? I don’t think I’ll be ready to cope with another disappointment from my home track” he confessed, which made your heart squeeze.
His entire life, the only thing that he wanted was to win in Monaco, but the track has always failed him. And for once, he felt like he could finally break the curse that has been following him around for years, yet he still worried that something would completely ruin his race.
“Baby, nobody will think less of you if you don’t win today. Racing is so unpredictable, you put your life in danger every time you get in the car and people know that. We’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome today” you said, holding his face in your hands to make sure he understood you.
He bit the inside of his cheek but nodded, knowing you were right.
“I love you” he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
“I love you too. Be safe out there and show everyone what you’re made of” you said once you pulled away, smiling and pecking his lips once again before leaving him to it.
You made your way back to the hospitality where Charles’ family was waiting for you.
“How is he?” Pascale asked you as you sat down next to her.
“He’s stressed, but he’s doing okay. He really wants to win today” you explained, running a hand through your hair.
Pascale nodded, knowing how important this day was for her son.
“He’ll win, I can feel it” Pascale said, taking your hand in hers.
♡♡♡♡♡
Some people would say that you bewitched your fiancé, some would say that a divine force had finally taken pity upon him, but only one thing was for certain.
Charles Leclerc had finally won his home race, the Monaco Grand Prix.
From the moment he had crossed the finish line and taken the checkered flag, everything that happened was a blur. Between hugging his family, texting your friends, crying because of how proud you were of him, things were a big blur.
Hearing him screaming on the radio had been what had made you break down. He had spent so many hours training, figuring out strategies, doing everything in his power to make sure that things would go well for him around his home streets and his hard work had finally paid off.
You couldn’t hold in the excitement that you felt, the pride you held for the man you loved more than life itself. Which frankly explains why you hurried out of the Ferrari hospitality and ran to the grid where the Ferrari mechanics were waiting for Charles.
The moment you saw him get out of the car and throw himself at his team, the cascade of tears began once again, blurring your vision which now only consisted of the red teamwear all around you.
“Y/N!” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Charles’ voice, who had noticed you crying as soon as he hugged his team.
The Ferrari mechanics quickly made way for you, letting you jump into Charles’ arms and wrapping your legs around his waist as he hugged you tightly to his body.
“I did it, Y/N. I finally did it” he cried into your shoulder, which made you let out more tears and squeeze him even tighter than you already were.
“I told you, I knew you were going to do it. My Monaco winner” you pulled away slightly to kiss him, taking his face in your hands.
The entire team cheered around you, paparazzi taking pictures upon pictures of the moment shared between you.
“I love you so fucking much” you whispered against his lips, making him grin widely.
“I love you too”
And with that, the Monaco curse has finally been broken, once and for all.
comments and re-blogs help us grow!
much appreciated!!
REQUEST HERE
#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fic#charles leclerc#monaco gp 2024#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc x female reader#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 one shot
583 notes
·
View notes
Text
I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!
Comparisons Pt.1
Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488
Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows
After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.
It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.
Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.
“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.
“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.
He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”
This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.
The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.
You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.
You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.
You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.
Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.
You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.
You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.
You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.
It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.
“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”
“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”
There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.
That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.
The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.
Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.
Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”
Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”
You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”
He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.
“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”
You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.
As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.
Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.
He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.
“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”
You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.
Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.
You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.
You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.
Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.
However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.
“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”
Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.
You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.
Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?
Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.
She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.
Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.
Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.
You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.
Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.
Had he been working with her this whole time?
You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.
You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.
You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.
Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.
The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.
You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.
She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.
You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.
She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.
God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.
She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.
That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.
Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”
You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.
You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.
Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?
“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”
He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”
You lift your head to look at him, “What?”
He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”
Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”
“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”
You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.
Why did she get a smile and not me?
Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”
“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”
Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“
“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.
You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.
Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”
He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.
You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”
Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.
He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”
You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.
Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”
Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, frustrated.
“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“
You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”
You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.
His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”
The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.
You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.
You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.
You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.
Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#dc#red hood#jason todd fic#red hood x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#red hood x you#missy writes#ask missy#jason todd x y/n#dc x y/n#dc x fem!reader#dc x you#dc x reader#dc fic#red hood x fem!reader#red hood fic
382 notes
·
View notes
Text
call me when you get this
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends, but even the best of friends have secrets.
WC: 3K
Warnings: Story told through voicemails, mild angst, coming out to each other, secret feelings, friends to lovers, kissing, swearing, light angst very brief, references to Robin and Gareth, drunk shenangians, idiots in love, set in 1991 but it doesn't matter too much, no mention of the Upside Down stuff
A/N: I have like three other WIP's happening and zero time but this idea was given to me by the beloved @tinytalkingtina in the discord and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Ao3 link here for those interested!
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 12:52am
GARETH hi yes I know it’s late but HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE ALBUM YET? I need all of your thoughts immediately. Like, all of them. Every thought. Dude, my head is spinning. Ohhh, man. Kurt is a fuckin’ legend. Woooow. Okay, I could talk about this shit for like three hours but I don’t want to run out your tape so just call me back when you get this and then talk to me about it for three hours. Can I come over a little early tomorrow? Yeah, I’m gonna come over a little early tomorrow. Maybe a lot early. Alright, catch ya then.
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 3:40pm
Uhh, ha. Hey Steve. Thiiiis is Eddie, obviously. I, uh, I just realized I called you in the middle of the night last night on accident, and - uhh, sorry about that. It was just - ah, screw it. You know what I am. Byeeeeee-
Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 7:30pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Eds, how many times do I have to tell you to change your answering machine message? What if, like, the president calls? Okay, maybe not the president. But an employer or something. Or, like, what if you give the girl of your dreams your number and she calls you and hears THAT? Food for thought. Uhh, anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t even home when you called me. Robin was, though, and so you’ll probably hear her wrath next time you come over for movie night. Good luck with that. Oh, wait. You’re at a show tonight, right? Damn. I swear I’ll make the next one. Okay, bye, dickhead.
Wednesday, September 25th, 1991, 1:12pm
“You have reached Steve Harrington. Figured I should say that in case whoever is calling me thinks they’re calling someone else. Anyway, I’m busy right now so I’ll call you back. Bye!”
Ha, ha. You are so funny, Harrington. You ever think about being a stand-up comedian? Jesus, and you say I’M the dramatic one. Uhh, the show last night went well, by the way. Not that you were THERE. Seriously, what kind of friend even are you? I’m hurt, Steve. I’m hurt. Anyway, see you tomorrow for movie night. I get to pick. It’s only fair, right?
Thursday, September 27th, 1991, 4pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
You’re not picking the goddamn movie. No way. Last time you did that we got scarred for life. Also, um. I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about me and your shows. I didn’t realize you - uhh, you’re probably joking. Forget I said anything, and see you tonight. I’m at work right now, so I’m gonna rent some backup options just in case.
Sunday, September 30th, 1991, 2pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Dustin says you were being a total dick last night. Good. That shrimp deserves to be humbled every once in a while. Your answering machine message still sucks, by the way, and yeah I’m gonna tell you every time.
Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:21pm
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Steve. My guy. I can’t believe you make fun of me for my bullshit message all the time and now you’ve created and advertised THAT abomination?? I’m - wow. I forgot why I even called.
Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:23pm
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Okay, I remember now. I know you said you have that date tomorrow with Heidi or Melissa or Samantha or whoever is currently obsessed with you, but I really do want you at the show if you can make it. You can bring her, if you want. Actually, it might be a good test. If she hates metal, she fails. I only want the best suitors for you, Steve Harrington. Be there or I’ll be REALLY annoying about it forever.
Tuesday, October 2nd, 1991, 11:45pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Hey, it’s Steve. So, uh - I saw your show tonight. You’re probably not home yet, but I don’t know where you are. Cuz like, I tried to find you after your set but you disappeared. I hope everything’s okay. You sounded great, by the way. I mean, you all did. Remember me when you’re playing at the Garden? Oh also, I heard like three women talk about how badly they wanted you, so…I dunno, just figured you’d like to hear that. Hey, maybe you got with one of them and that’s why you’re not answering. In that case, hope you’re having fun? Okay, now it’s weird. Bye, Eds.
Wednesday, October 3rd, 12:54am
“Hey, this is Steve.”
“And Robin!”
“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”
“We are probably together.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, that too.”
“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Steeeeeeeeeeeve. You absolute buffoon. You beautiful, oblivious man. Why’dya think I wanted you there’so badly t’night, Steve? T’wasn’t for the girls. Ha, girls. Yeah, okay. I may have had several alcoholic beverages, Steve-o, but you’re still the dumbass. Cuz you’d have to be an absolute idiot t’think I have any interest in those women. ‘Specially yours. Your women, I mean. Sandyyyyy. Ugh, she was perfect for you, Harrington. Juuuust perfect. So perfect I didn’t wanna stick around to see any more of it. I hope you two have beautiful children. Name one after me, will you? Uhhhh I think I might puke. So, I’m gonna go, but - but do you get what I’m saying? Do you - do you get it? Tell me you get it. Steve, I - Oh, hey Gareth. Do you wanna talk to Steve? Wait why are you - Dude, I’m FINE. I’m handling it! Stop! Gareth, don’t hang up the phone, I haven’t -!
Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 9:05am
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Dude, did you fucking break into our apartment last night? Robin and I came home this morning and found a broken lock and some shitty note we could barely read next to the answering machine, and - what the fuck, man? You wiped the damn thing clean. Just - call me back, okay? Jesus.
Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 11:36am
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
Eddie, come on. We really need to talk. I’m not - I’m not mad, honest to God. Call me back, as soon as you get this. Got it?
Thursday, October 4th, 1991, 3:47pm
“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”
It’s movie night, but I’m assuming you won’t be here considering you’ve pulled your magic disappearing act. Thanks for that, by the way. You know you really piss me off sometimes? All the time, actually. I’m getting real tired of you constantly poking fun at me, and then you pull this breaking and entering shit and just take off? Just like that? We’ve been friends for years, Eds. You and me. But you never want to just be serious, not once in your goddamn life, and I’m over it. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess. I dunno what I did.
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:12pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
Huh. You know what? I kind of miss the old message you had. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m impossible to please, yada yada yada, and now I’m doing the avoiding with humor thing again. Shit. Uhh, hi. Listen, I’m sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Really, really fucking sorry, if you can believe it. I was just, like, mad embarrassed, and I didn’t wanna - uh, can we meet up soon? Alone? Like, without Robin even? I know that’s - like, unheard of these days, but I figure maybe you’d make an exception for me. Or maybe you won’t. Just let me know, yeah?
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:30pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
See, I would just hop on over to your place to talk but the thing is, I’m a total chickenshit and it’s not like I did super well the last time I showed up to your place unannounced, so…Uhh, while we’re on the subject, I’m sorry about your lock. If you haven’t replaced it yet, I will. I’ll at least pay you back. In my defense, that thing was like two seconds from falling off anyway. But still. Anyway, I know you always spend Sundays at home, soooo…hellooooo? Come on. At least pick up the phone and tell me to fuck off. I know you’re listening. At least - I hope you are, anyway. Just pick up, man. I - I really gotta talk to you.
Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:37pm
Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!
So, quick update, I called Henderson. He confirmed you are at home, which means you are DEFINITELY listening, and either you’re trying to punish me or a part of you still finds my piece of shit ass charming somehow. Look, I know I fucked up, but - but I can explain. Shit. I mean, I’m not good with words or anything and I’m a total asshole but I - just, please. Pick up. Pick uuuuup. Come on. Now you’re just being a dick. Ha. Figures, I’m apologizing and calling you a dick in the same message. Dude. Seriously. Your tape is gonna run out of space and then what? You stop hearing from me? I’ll find other ways to annoy you, promise. This is a threat. Steve. Steeeeve. Pick up pick up pick up pick upppp -
“Will you just shut the hell up already?”
Eddie dropped the phone and heard it clack against the floor. He would have recognized that voice anywhere.
He turned around and there he was.
“Steve, what are you -?”
“You would just be yapping on that damn answering machine my whole drive here,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why I expected any less. And, thanks to you, we had all the space in the world for you to take up, so -”
“H-how did you get in here?” Eddie stuttered.
Steve rolled his eyes. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s not afraid of breaking and entering?”
They hadn’t seen each other in five days. Hadn’t even talked, aside from a few voicemails. And those never told the whole story.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie began.
“Yeah, you should be,” Steve replied, taking a step closer to Eddie in the kitchen.
Eddie winced, his heart racing a million miles a minute. He just had to get all of the words out, while he still could. While Steve was listening.
“I left you this really stupid voicemail,” Eddie explained. “That night, after the show. I was drunk off my ass, and - and Gareth told me I’d said shit I shouldn’t have said, and then I panicked, and the two of us went to your apartment and I - well, you know the rest.” He slumped down into the chair at the dining room table, putting his head in his hands. “Which is all just so dumb. And I didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath, so…”
“So you stopped talking to me?” Steve said, taking another step closer. “Because you thought that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in our friendship?”
Eddie shook his head. “I dunno, I -”
“You’ve done some real weird shit over the years, Munson,” Steve continued. “Sneaking into my apartment doesn’t even make the top three.”
Eddie buried his face in his hair. No amount of boyish charm would get him out of this one. Jesus H. Christ.
He sighed. “Okay, so I overreacted, what else is new?”
“I heard the voicemail, dickhead.”
Eddie’s heart went from breakneck speeds to stopping entirely.
“What?”
Steve sat down in the other seat at the table. “I heard the voicemail. It was 1am, again, so yeah I was at home.”
“I thought you would have been with Sandy,” Eddie muttered.
Steve shook his head. “Nah, Sandy was - she’s great and all, but she isn’t - she’s not -”
“So you heard the voicemail, but you weren’t home when I showed up,” Eddie noted.
“Right,” Steve said. “Because I was headed to your place.”
“What?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I just - I didn’t understand why you never told me you were queer. Like, you know I don’t care about that. You know about Robin…”
As Steve talked, Eddie realized that Steve only heard half of what that voicemail was trying to express. So, it was time for Eddie Munson to face the music.
“I didn’t tell you I’m gay because I knew that once I did, you’d figure out the rest of it,” Eddie blurted out.
Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “The rest of it?”
Eddie groaned. “Oh, God. See, drunk me had the right idea saying this kind of shit over an answering machine. Christ, I’m so bad at this, but I’m just gonna say it, because if I don’t I think I’ll lose my shot with you and I - I can’t deal with that. So, here we go.” He squeezed his eyes shut and powered through. “Steve, I - ha, shit. I love you, dude. I’m - I’m IN love with you. I have been since, like, forever.” He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on their feet against the linoleum kitchen floor. “Which is, uhh, a lot, I know. But it’s the truth. So if there’s any chance -”
“Oh, my God,” Steve interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, or scared, or anything like that. It was soft and understanding.
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Wait, what are you thinking?” He looked up to see Steve staring off into the distance before meeting his gaze.
“I’m thinking,” Steve replied. “That I owe Robin twenty bucks.”
Eddie cocked his head to the side and felt his heart skip back into rhythm. “You do?”
Steve nodded with a slight smile. At some point, his hand had ended up on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, I didn’t believe her. Told her no way, not possible.”
Eddie didn’t know how to feel about this reaction. It wasn’t the worst possible response, but it certainly wasn’t Oh, Eddie! How I’ve longed for you all this time! Take me now!
A middleground, if you will.
“Oookay,” Eddie said. “Well, I don’t really know what to say now.”
“I’m queer too, ya know,” Steve continued.
"Wait, really?" Eddie balked. "Steve Harrington, ladies man?"
Steve chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Turns out, not so much," he said. "I feel like I’m pretty open about it. Guys, girls, whatever -”
“Yeah, but we all do that,” Eddie reasoned. “Me, you, and Robin all talking about how hot everyone is on our movie nights. It doesn’t prove anything.”
“Except that it totally does,” Steve countered. “Because, like, what do we all have in common?"
Eddie thought about it, and he didn’t have any other defenses.
“O-okay, so you’re queer too,” Eddie said. “And the other thing I said?”
Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie directly in his frightened eyes.
“Eds, obviously I love you too,” Steve admitted at last. “Come on, seriously? After all I’ve put up with? I’ve been waiting around for like five days for you to call, like some lovesick puppy, and the moment I heard your voice I drove here instead of picking up the phone like a normal person. I’ve got it so bad for you that Robin is sick of it, and honestly, I’m sick of it too, because I hate having feelings. It blows, dude. I swear to God, if you try to bolt again when things get tough -”
Eddie lunged forward and cut Steve’s words off with a kiss. Their first kiss, even if it didn’t feel that way. Eddie had cupped Steve’s cheek in the past while he teased him. Steve had curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair in the past the night Robin taught him how to braid. Eddie and Steve had all kinds of physical contact in various ways over the years, and it was as if all of that was just practice for this.
Eddie broke away from Steve’s lips purely out of necessity, because he needed to catch his breath. “Okay, woah,” he said.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Woah.”
Everything changed after that. But also, nothing changed at all.
-
Tuesday, October 16th, 1991, 4:12pm
“Hey, this is Eddie Munson’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back.”
Hi, Eds. Okay, I was wrong. This new message you have is, like, super boring. Anyway, I’ll see you at the show tonight, Rockstar. Love you.
xx
I did have a taglist way back when but the tagging system is super annoying on tumblr, so please reblog this if you liked it and follow me or my Ao3 for other works! Masterlist is the pinned post on my page for those interested. Thanks for reading!
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 1.5]
Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: There is a little, annoying human trapped in this bay with him. And he's going to eat them. (Vil's POV)
[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3]
There was a little, raggedy human staring up at him from the sand, and Vil had never felt so miserably persecuted in all his years.
The thing had been bound to him in a mess of ropes and frantic, bipedal flailing, and he’d honestly thought that it had drowned. Hoped that it had drowned. But no, apparently he couldn’t be quite so lucky. None of his pod’s raids had ever gone so terribly, and normally he was better able to keep his head about him. But it had been Epel’s first attempt at sneaking on board one of the grand, creaking, human vessels, and maybe he’d been a touch concerned about it. Like a fretting parent sending their guppy off to the deep for their first solo-swim. And perhaps he’d struck a bit too quick and sharp when he saw things headed South. Not taking the normal care he would to assess for traps, or weapons, or stupid humans and their equally stupid, fraying ropes.
But none of that mattered. It was hardly a crime to want to protect your family. It had happened, that was the end of it. There was no changing things. And now he was here. In this cove. With that thing.
You pedaled backward in the sand like those two legs of yours hardly worked at all, and even though it looked like you were retreating (rightfully so, at least you were smart enough to realize this was a lost battle), Vil still bared his teeth in a challenge. Because he was angry, and sore, and at the moment you were the cause of every, single one of his problems in the world. He tossed his tail in the surf, splattering stinging bits of ice water into your face.
“Stop! Stop!” you squawked, wheeling away like he was dousing you in acid rain rather than a bit of pissy water warfare. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”
“Of course you weren’t,” he spat. “From the looks of you, you don’t plan much of anything at all.”
You didn’t respond to his scathing insult, only kept scooting yourself back against the sand on legs that still apparently refused to work. Or maybe you’d simply forgotten about them. You seemed like you could be the type.
He ground his talons into the damp sand at his hips and felt the ridges of the fins along his spine prickling tight and painful, trying to puff out in a predatory display that they simply couldn’t because he was still bound in the godforsaken rope.
“I don’t know what your little plan was,” he hissed, “but you’ve done both of us a disservice. And while I’m sure you’re used to disappointment, I am not going to tolerate this.”
More silence. You looked—not confused, per se. But definitely not particularly keen on following his very justified rant against your person. Your gaze kept darting from his vicious glare, to his claws digging up the shoreline, and then to his lips. He could see your own mouth moving a bit alongside his, like you were trying to echo the shape of the insults flying off his tongue.
“Listen here, you fleshy rat,” he snapped, jabbing a black talon in your direction. “You’re going to tell me the course that your ridiculous ship had set so that I can return to my pod at once. Do you understand? And if you’re lucky, I won’t crawl my way up there to bite off your fingers one by one. How’s that sound?”
You blinked back at him with no comprehension, like his marvelous depiction of having your bones gnawed on for snacks just wasn’t a vivid enough picture.
The rage in his chest bubbled bright and hot, and the age-old magics in his veins zipped through his blood like a stroke of lightening.
Insolent brat.
Fine. He’d make you listen then.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, and oh, you were a nuisance. He was going to rip your nerves out from the depths of your useless, human limbs. Feast on your bones until the marrow had been picked clean and leave the scraps for the gulls—
He parted his lips and sang loud and sharp—letting that familiar lull roll off his tongue like the sweetest poison. His Call had always been the strongest in his pod, after all. That’s why it was his job to keep them safe, to ensure that no one was lost in a hunt that was meant to be so simple just because they couldn’t keep their purple-headed curiosity under wraps long enough to not to be caught—
Vil turned his sneer back your way, fully prepared to see you kowtowed before him with your nose buried in the sand. And—
You were just sitting there. Butt in the muck and just as wide-eyed and brainless as before. Staring back at him with a startled sort of expression on your face and nothing else. Normally there was a sort of tether between him and his victims. A call, an answer. Simple principles. And while he could never see the tangible net of his influence tightening around their brains, he could always sense it. Or at least something like it. But this time, there was just… nothing.
Vil snarled, swallowing around the spiky pinch of something in his gut that he refused to call panic, and canted his head back to sing louder.
The shallow dregs of the cove rippled at his hips with the force of it, and he could feel the swell of his influence curling out further and further. Digging its claws into anything and everything it could reach. He could feel one tether spooling out and grabbing after the other, feel the familiar pull of subservience from the very sea itself. And—
“I can’t hear you!”
Oh, you mocking piece of—
He widened his mouth until his jaw was creaking and his tongue was going numb from the sharp bursts of arcana snapping from throat.
“It’s not a challenge!” you wailed, hands cupped over your mouth to try and shout over his howling song. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”
His mouth fell closed all at once, the Call cutting off so abruptly that the returning wave of snapping magics almost made his head spin. The power of it hung along his nerves like the zipping prickle of electric eels, and the water at his hips churned and bubbled.
“There,” you huffed, like someone who’d just been horribly inconvenienced by a gust of wind ruining their hair, rather than a human bearing the full weight of a siren’s fury. Brushing off some of the most powerful magics in the ocean like it was nothing worse than a bit of sand in your trousers. It was… unnerving. And it had something uneasy curdling in Vil’s stomach.
He dug his claws into the sand, fins flaring along his sides in a defensive display before he could help himself. Your eyes tracked the way the muck gave way beneath his talons and he watched your throat bob. Good. You should be afraid of him. Because he refused to be afraid of a human like you. No matter how the hair at his nape prickled or the fins at his ears pinned against the sides of his head.
“Well…” you said after a long moment, awkward and stiff. “I should get going, I suppose.”
And then you were stumbling your way to your feet to venture deeper into the crags of the small island. Vil smacked his tail against the surf, loud and sharp. A plaintive ‘good, begone,’ if ever there was one. But you didn’t even flinch, let alone turn around to witness his grand ‘fuck you.’ He wasn’t sure why he was expecting you to.
He watched you crawl your way up a mess of boulders and old shells, eyes narrowed and that same, unpleasant prickle running through his nerves. Once you were well and truly out of sight, he returned to his fins and started doing all he could to assess the damage. The sooner he could deal with this setback and set out into the depths of the ocean, the sooner he could return to his pod. And the sooner he’d be away from you, and all your strange, human ways.
.
.
You returned maybe an hour later, only a few minutes after he’d given up on trying to pick the horrid mess of twine from the wounds along his tail. His claws weren’t made for such delicate work, and the poisoned tips of them weren’t doing his shredded fins any favors.
He turned on you with a snarl that would have sent any other sentient creature scurrying for cover, fins pinned and canines on full display. But apparently you had less self-preservation than even the brainless, teeny, rock crabs burrowing hurriedly into the sand.
“Hello,” you said. Like that was any way appropriate.
“Get lost,” he snarled.
You nodded back, simple and sage, and then pointed to the mess of your ropes twined along his fins.
“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”
Vil sneered and surged forward to scrape his claws through the muck again, hoping his demonstration of what he would do to your face if you stepped near him was clear enough to get through your head.
“Touch me and you’ll be lucky if all I do is eat you.”
You blinked back, and he watched the way your eyes jumped across his expression. Trailed to his mouth, his brow, his teeth. Reading whatever you could see there. And then you shrugged again, unbothered by his spitting threats as before.
“Alright. Your loss, I suppose.”
There was a keenness to your gaze though, a sharp, pointed consideration that had his hackles rising all over again.
“If you think that you can be rid of me that easily, you’re solely mistaken,” he spat, smacking his fins into the shallows until the water was churning wild and angry. “This is all your fault, and whatever ridiculous plot you’re considering, I’ll gladly return it tenfold.”
Your face pinched like you had any right to be annoyed by this at all, and then promptly turned away from him like you’d lost all interest in his theatrics. You meandered around the shore, scooping up the battered remains of some of the fish that had stranded themselves during his failed Call. Then you sat yourself well away from the water’s edge and pulled a knife from your boot, running it along the fish’s scales and clearing out the muck.
“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly, making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so. Like that little blade of yours was supposed to be any sort of a threat. Perhaps he could use it to pick the leftover bits of you out of his teeth.
Vil turned up his nose and returned to carefully grooming the shredded ends of his fins.
“You’re an obnoxious brat,” he growled, wincing as his claws caught over a frayed patch of scales and began to bleed all over again. “And I’m going to drown you.”
Naturally, you did not respond.
.
.
The rope burned, and he knew he wasn’t helping himself. The twine of it was frayed, poor quality. And combined with the tacky, salt-sticky damp of the waves, it made the worst sort of web. Vil threw himself around in the shallows like a pup stuck in their first net. And he knew—knew—this wasn’t going to make things better. But the more he worked to free himself and the less progress he made, the angrier he got (Not afraid, angry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t).
A tight bit of fibers snagged along the delicate mesh of the fins at his hips and gave a shrieking riiip that had him collapsing into the sand bed with a bitten off noise that he refused to call a gasp. But Sevens, it did hurt. He pressed his face into the shallow pool of warm water beneath his chin and forced his breath to calm, to dig his claws into the grit beneath him rather than his own scales. Because this wasn’t working. And he—he needed to fix it. On his own. Because he was on his own. And he was going to manage, just like he always had.
There was a noise off on the shore—the tumbling of pebbles against stone as you shifted around in your little, makeshift hideaway. And he refused to look up to meet your gaze. Because surely you were staring. Humans were always so happy to watch his kind suffer, flailing about in their traps and bound in nets like a garish display. And he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he’d been seen like… like this.
So he forced himself to go still and silent, ignoring the pain biting into his sides like the teeth of a shark and the panicked, clawing thing in his gut that kept screaming that he was going to die here.
.
.
The next morning, you were wandering the shoreline, scrounging after the remains of various crabs from the day prior. Vil refused to look at you, and spent the time pointedly running his claws through the tangles in his hair and primping himself like he didn’t have a care in the world. Because if a stupid, lowly human fit for nothing but an after-dinner-snack could thrive in these circumstances, than surely he could do even better.
There was the soft, wet sounds of your footsteps behind him, and Vil turned on you with a roaring snarl—fins pinned and spines perked, defensive.
“What?” he snapped, beating his tail.
You awkwardly held up one your pickings—a round, red crab with fat claws.
“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…”
Vil fought the urge to gawk. Were you offering him one of—but why would you—
He bit through his surprise with another sneer. “Firstly, crabs are crustaceans, not fish. You’d think any self-respecting creature that spent their days on the ocean would know something as obvious as that. Secondly, why would you even think that I would share a meal with you? Even I didn’t think humans could be that stupid, but you’re certainly setting a new bar.”
Your mouth twitched at his very sharply enunciated ‘stupid’ and he fought a smirk.
“Oh. Know that one, do you?” he cooed, all mocking.
“Look, do you want it or not?” you snapped, irritated, and his fins flared up again—wide and defensive.
Vil crossed his arms on an exaggerated, pointed huff and turned in the other direction. A clear dismissal. “I’d rather starve.”
“Whatever,” you griped, voice canted sharp with your foul temper, and then there was a crack and a yelp.
Vil turned back to see you reeling away, hand over your mouth to catch a mix of blubbering, wincing curses and a shattered crab shell clenched between your fingers in the most obvious show of stupidity he’d perhaps ever seen. He burst out into laughter before he could help himself, and you stormed away with warm cheeks and pieces of jagged, red shell still clinging to the corners of your lips.
.
.
That night he fought the ropes even harder, ignoring the way they pulled, and tore, and dug into places that he knew they should not. And maybe it was self-destructive, stupid, but if he didn’t get himself free of this horrible mess his fins would never heal. He’d never be able to swim properly again. And he’d never be able to leave this cove, never return to his pod, his family. Never—
A shell walloped him in the back of the head and Vil turned with a shriek so vicious it nearly startled even him. Because there you were—the bane of his existence. Standing at the edge of the water with that ridiculous, deadpan look on your ridiculous face and already scrounging about in the sands like you were looking for something else to throw at him. He didn’t even know what he was screaming at that point, absolutely brought over the edge in rage, and pain, and fear, and it was all. your. faul—
Then something in your expression snapped and you were storming forward towards the surf—absolutely incensed.
“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you shrieked, stomping in the sand and nearly pinning the longer, trailing ends of his fins beneath your heels. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”
“You trapped me!” he howled, outraged. “You were going to kill a member of my pod! Who’s barely out of his pup days! And he was my responsibility, and you were going to attack him!”
Magic zipped along his tongue, demanding that you kneel. Show your throat and be done with it. But when you just kept glaring back—absolutely stone-faced and seething with indignation—Vil forced himself to take a breath, and then another.
“Epel,” he spat, low and exaggerated. He saw your eyes flicker to his lips, trace the outline of the word. “Epel,” he said again, sharp and angry. And when your own mouth began to subconsciously follow the shape of it, he was off and running again. “He’s my responsibility. Epel. He—” Vil pointed at the pale, lavender creases at the base of his fins. “His hair is like this. You saw him. You spoke to him. And you were going to tie him up just like you did to me.”
Your eyes narrowed, sharp.
“That kid,” you said after a moment, lips twisting in a frown. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”
“Epel,” Vil spat again, smacking his fins into the surf to douse you in a mess of seawater. “Not some kid. A pup. Barely of age. And you were going to—”
“You—” you hissed, scrubbing the salt from your eyes with the back of your hand. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. It splattered along Vil’s hips, barely a sprinkling in comparison to his own tidal waves. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”
Vil snarled, and the twist of it left a bitter, rotten taste on his tongue. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter what you wanted, because you were just some human. Humans were vile, and cruel, and good for nothing but filling their bellies. And this was his family. So what if you claimed you were just standing up for your own brood? It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.
So he turned back to dive into the shallows with as much force as his aching, crippled fins could manage. Sinking to the bottom of the cove in a huff of bubbles and clawing his way through the muck until he was well and truly hidden in the murky, sandy depths. He smacked his tail against the mess of pebbles and rocks until every creature beneath was scurrying for safety—fleeing outwith the flailing, destructive force of a Siren’s tantrum.
Was that why he was here, then? Bound and gagged on some hellhole of an island because of his own mistakes? Because you’d just been aligning yourself with the moral high ground he’d been riding this whole time? Saving your kin at the cost of your own, fragile skin. Dragged overboard to fight the monsters trying to devour your family whole. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to let himself feel bad for the slighted prey in a hunt gone wrong. Sharks certainly didn’t regret the fish they chased, nor did the great black-and-white whales that pursued those sharks in turn. This was just the way of things, the circle of life. And he wasn’t going to feel guilty about the tight, protectivelook on your face as you shouted him down about defending your own pod at all.
.
.
You were curled up by the same rock the next morning, sleeping soundly against the rough hewn edge. It looked hideously uncomfortable, with your chin tucked up against your chest and your head pressed against half-a-dozen layered, jagged ridges. Vil had always heard that humans were used to luxury—soft, plush blankets made of foreign fabrics and great, stuffed squares of bedding that could put even the finest woven siren nests to shame. And there you were. Scrunched up with a shell clearly embedded in your cheek.
He frowned, fins rippling awkwardly at his sides where the majority were still knotted up in twine.
He needed to leave this cove. As soon as possible. And get away from… all of this.
It generally wasn’t considered the best of ideas to Call openly across the sea. Lone sirens were prime targets for all sorts of nasty scavengers. Human hunters, rival pods, even other rogues looking for a fight. It was dangerous to mark one’s position so openly, let alone in a manner that made it obvious of the less than stellar situation they had no doubt found themselves in. It was also a nasty toll to try and Call so far for so long, on himself and the environment around him. A screeching, horrible thing that he’d only heard a few times in all his years. It was a terrible idea for everyone involved, himself and his fellow castaway most of all. But, well, desperate times, and all that.
Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear it anyways.
So began his endless song.
He’d sing, and sing, and sing—feeling the ripples of it carrying across the surface of the water and shivering through the air. And then, after he’d worn his throat ragged, he’d pause. Just long enough to swallow around the sting and tilt his head to listen. His fins would flare out against the side of his head, and he’d wait. And then, when there was no answer to his Calling, he’d circle back and do it again. A part of him hoped there would be none. He’d taught his pod better than to do something so foolish—to put themselves at the mercy of all the monsters of the sea. And… if they didn’t answer, perhaps that just meant they were searching for him. Using his own, ridiculous harping to trace him down. And if not that, then at least that they were off somewhere safe. Somewhere far, and hidden.
He swam and sang until he was too exhausted for either. Bound fins a heavy, leaden weight at his hips and head barely cresting above the water.
When the sun set over the horizon, Vil let himself roll in alongside the surf to rest in the sand, boneless and sore. His eyes slipped shut with the encroaching darkness, too heavy to hold open at all. He hadn’t seen much of you today. Occasionally you’d wander down to the shoreline, head popping up over a cluster of rocks to shoot him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, but for the most part you’d stayed hidden away. Out of his hair, at least. Perhaps you’d finally learned what was good for you, and that keeping as far away from the beast lurking in the shallows was the only way you’d be getting out of this alive.
And then his eyes were snapping open to a field of stars overhead and the moon hanging fat and low in the sky like a fruit ripe for the plucking.
And there you were, hovering over him with that laughably small knife of yours.
Carefully and gently working the rope away from his tattered fins.
Your fingers were delicate, precise. Every time those woven fibers tugged in a way that could even begin to hurt, you were softening your touch and muttering reassurances under your breath. He wondered if you realized you were doing that at all—chattering quiet, rambling nonsense like a nervous tick. ‘Ack, don’t twitch so much, it’s just going to cut deeper,’ and ‘sorry! Sorry! I didn’t think that would move like that! Just—just stay still and it will all be done way faster and then you can swim off, and—’ You were exceptionally careful over the areas of rough, beaten scales along the dip of his tail, wincing in sympathy at the raw, raw skin there. The blade never strayed anywhere it wasn’t needed, and you never touched any part of him that wasn’t in an effort to work another tangle of knots free.
Vil kept himself perfectly still and his breaths even and deep. He watched you through the low, golden dip of his lashes, eyes tracking your fluttering hands and quiet mumblings.
The last of the rope fell away with a wet, heavy plap in the sand and when you sighed there was a smile in your voice.
“There,” you muttered, soft. “Now he can swim home again.”
He froze, startled, and something dropped low and tight in his gut.
Because humans were cruel. Humans were food. Humans were nothing more than vermin crawling over the surface of his ocean in their hunkering, wooden vessels and finless feet. They didn’t deserve sympathy, or anything of that ilk. And—
Your gaze met his and the spark of horrified realization didn’t even manage to settle properly in your wide, wide eyes before he had you pinned in the sand.
It was easy—far too easy. Compared to him you were so small, so fragile. No heavy, bulk of muscle and scales to help keep you alive and fighting. Just fragile limbs and lungs that were good for nothing. He dug his claws into your shoulders and felt the warm prick of blood curl up beneath his talons—could see you wince with the first pinch of acrid poison sharpening the wound. He was going to rip you apart, just like he’d said he would. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear him, he’d show you. Because humans were vile, and no matter what you’d claimed, you didn’t deserve anything better than an end beneath the points of his fangs. Fuel for the journey back to his pod and nothing more.
‘There. Now he can swim home again.’
He reeled back, nose scrunching and teeth grinding in his jaw.
You were still beneath him, blinking up in shock but not fighting. Like being flipped onto your back had been startling out of principle, but not unexpected. Like the idea of dying at his claws was just something you’d been expecting from the get-go.
And yet—
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ you’d been rattling. ‘Ah, if you squirm it’s just going to hurt, you stupid, overgrown fish—'
Vil reared back with a snarl that had goosebumps racing all along your arms, and then he was diving back into the shallows—swiping the tip of his fins against your nose as he went in a sharp crack that he hoped would have you yelping and stumbling away from the ocean’s edge.
He paced along the edges of the bay, newly freed fins slowly uncurling in the lull of the tide. And he felt free. Sore, certainly, and aching in ways he never had before, but free.
When he popped his head back out of the water, you were sprawled out in the sand like a dying starfish, absolutely out of your mind and babbling nonsense about ‘captains’ and ‘collars’ under your breath.
‘Good,’ he harumphed, diving back into the shallows to twirl along his unbound tail. ‘Maybe that would teach you to stay out of the water.’
.
.
[TAG LIST - CLOSED]
@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess
@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl, @warmsmilesandhugs, @01paige01
#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#Vil Schoenheit x Reader#Vil x Reader#vil schoenheit#Mermay#Monster Mayhem#My Writing#vil shoenheit#Siren!Vil#Mermaid!Vil#Fantasy AU#Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1.5#Vil's POV
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
While It Lasts | L. Norris - 2
Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.
Part 1
PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.
wc: 16.5k
© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.
You woke up to the faint clattering of dishes in the kitchen. Groggily, you opened your eyes, feeling the stiffness from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. Stretching, you realized Isaac was already up, making breakfast.
“Isaac,” you called out, your voice hoarse from sleep.
He didn’t seem to hear you, the noise of the kitchen drowning out your voice. With a sigh, you decided to hobble over to him, each step a reminder of your twisted ankle and the awkward position you’d slept in.
Reaching the kitchen, you leaned against the doorway for support. “Isaac,” you said a bit louder.
He turned, surprise and concern crossing his face. “You should be resting.”
“I know,” you replied, wincing slightly as you moved closer. “But we need to talk.”
Isaac set down the pan he was holding, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s talk.”
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. “Isaac, I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I know you’re just trying to take care of me.”
He shook his head, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. “Every single day for the past four years, I have this fear that you’ll leave me at any moment. Yes, it is selfish, very selfish because I truly don’t know what you’re feeling, what you’re going through. But while you might’ve accepted that you’re dying, I didn’t! I just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, so you can live another day, so you can see me graduate college, see me – I don’t know – find the love of my life or get married. I’m sorry. You’re my sister, you are the last person I need to act like I’m on eggshells around you.”
Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his fear and love hitting you hard. “Your fear is valid, Isaac. Just because I’ve accepted it, doesn’t mean that I like it. But it won’t change fate, will it? It won’t change the fact that I’ve been dealt a shitty hand at life. All I know is that when I’m taking my last breaths, whenever it is, I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to regret not living enough because of the fear of dying. Just because I have a stupid countdown doesn’t mean I should be afraid to live.”
Isaac looked at you, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “I just want you to be here, to live as long as possible.”
“I know,” you whispered, reaching out to engulf him in a hug. “I’ll try to take better care of myself.”
He nodded slowly, his grip tightening around your body. “And I’ll try to be less overprotective, I promise, I’ll try.”
You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you, Isaac.”
As you stood there, holding onto each other in the quiet morning light, you felt a sense of peace. When he pulled back, he scrunched up his face. “But it’ll be harder to explain that to mum and dad.”
You shrugged, “they’ll get it, one day, hopefully.”
After breakfast, Isaac announced he needed to run some errands in town. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Take your time.”
As the door closed behind him, the house fell into a quiet lull. You settled back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and rest your ankle. Just as you were starting to drift off, the doorbell rang.
With a sigh, you swung your legs off the couch and hobbled toward the door, wincing with each step. When you finally reached it and pulled it open, you were greeted by Lando’s mischievous grin that quickly turned into worry.
“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowed as he took in your hobbling form. “You shouldn’t be up and about. How’s the ankle?”
“Hey, Lando,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe for support. “It’s sore but I’ll survive. Come in.”
He stepped inside, immediately reaching out to steady you. “Here, let me help you back to the couch.”
You nodded, grateful for his support. You leaned against him and held his hand as he guided you back to your spot on the couch. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch and the genuine concern in his eyes.
“Thanks,” you said once you were settled again. “What brings you here?”
Lando shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not getting into any more trouble.”
You chuckled softly. “Well, I did manage to twist my ankle pretty badly.”
His expression turned serious. “I know. I felt terrible leaving you like that last night.”
“It’s alright, I was already sleeping before you left,” you waved off his concern.
“Speaking of falling asleep…” Lando began, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I couldn’t resist stopping by the bookstore you mentioned. Figured I’d pick up a couple of books to keep us entertained.”
You grinned, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You went to the bookstore? You really are determined to explore every corner of this town, aren’t you?”
Lando nodded enthusiastically, pulling the books out of the bag he carried when he entered. “Of course! And since my favorite tour guide is out of commission,” he said, gesturing to your injured ankle, “I had to take matters into my own hands.”
He revealed two identical books, holding them up with a grin. “Thought we could have a reading competition. Winner gets bragging rights.”
You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”
Lando shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a competitive guy. Comes with the territory. Oh, and by the way,” he added casually, “did I mention I’m a Formula 1 driver?”
You blinked, surprised by the revelation. “Wait, seriously?”
Lando grinned, “yeah, been racing for quite a few years now.”
You nodded, a smile spreading on your face when he delved into the details, and it’s evident that he loves talking about his passion.
“That actually makes so much sense, that’s how you know the Sainz family, right?”
Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, but how do you know them?”
You laughed softly, and it quickly became a sound Lando loved hearing. “I live next to the villa, remember?” You teased jokingly.
A sheepish smile grew on his face, “oh, right. So what, you’ve met Carlos too? And here I thought I was the first F1 driver you’ve met.”
You nodded. “Yeah, in passing. We never really talked much, but I’ve seen him and his family around often.”
Then you leaned closer and whispered, “but don’t tell him that he may no longer be my favourite.”
He quirked up an eyebrow, leaning in as well and responding with the same amount of energy. “Then who is?”
You shrugged, leaning back with a small smile and a faint blush covering your cheeks. “I think I might have to watch a race to decide.”
As you continued chatting with Lando, the pain in your ankle seemed to fade into the background. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his stories about racing, the thrill of waiting for the lights to go out, and the camaraderie between his fellow drivers.
Eventually, you decided to start the reading competition. Both of you settled into the couch with your respective books, determined to see who would finish first. But as the minutes ticked by, Lando found it hard to focus on his book. His gaze kept drifting to you, watching the way your eyes moved across the pages and the little expressions that flitted across your face as you read.
He couldn’t help but want to talk to you, to hear more about your thoughts. Finally, he put his book down with a sigh, unable to concentrate any longer.
“So, what’s next on the agenda once your ankle’s better? Something less adventurous, perhaps?”
You placed your book down after marking your page, chuckling as you looked at him. “Can’t focus, can you?”
“Not with you around,” he shrugged casually.
Trapping your lip between your teeth to prevent a smile from growing on your face, you chose to focus on the question he asked.
“There’s this amazing seafood restaurant nearby. It’s a local favorite, and the food is incredible. Fresh catches of the day, and the chef’s specials are to die for. You’ll love it!”
As you spoke, you didn’t notice Lando’s face pale slightly. He wasn’t a fan of seafood, but he couldn’t bring himself to dampen your excitement by telling you the truth. The way your eyes lit up talking about the place made him want to experience it with you, even if he never wanted to be around any sort of fish.
“Sounds great,” Lando said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
You clapped your hands together, beaming. “You won’t regret it, I promise. The view from the restaurant is amazing too. It’s right by the water, and you can see the boats coming in and out of the harbor. It’s a perfect spot for a relaxing evening.”
Lando nodded, matching your enthusiasm as best he could. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”
“How about we go there for dinner tomorrow?” you suggested, your excitement bubbling over.
“Tomorrow night it is,” Lando agreed, his smile genuine due to your smile despite his seafood reservations.
The next evening came around too quickly for Lando’s liking. Instead of stressing over what to wear this time, he was worried about the food itself. The prospect of seafood was daunting, but he didn’t want to let you down. As he rummaged through his closet, Max walked into the room with a teasing grin.
“Mate, you like her so much that you’d willingly eat seafood for her?” Max said, leaning against the doorframe.
Lando looked up, a mixture of nerves and amusement on his face. “Yeah, well, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the company.”
He chuckled, “you’re a brave man.” Then he sighed exaggeratedly, “oh the things you do in love.”
Lando’s back straightened suddenly. “It’s not love… yet. We’re just hanging out.”
Max’s eyes widened since he didn’t expect such an answer, “wait a second, ‘yet’? Do you actually like her?”
Lando shrugged, trying to play it off, but the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “I don’t know, Max. Maybe. It’s… complicated.”
Max studied him for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. “I should’ve seen it coming, but she’s great! Maybe even a little out of your league,” he spoke with a teasing grin, that only made Lando roll his eyes when he saw his best friend’s face.
“She’s beautiful,” he said softly, not denying Max’s words.
Max's teasing grin softened into a more serious expression. "Hey, I'm serious though. You don't have to go through with this if you're not comfortable. You shouldn't feel like you have to force yourself to like something just to impress her."
Lando appreciated Max's concern, but he shook his head. "It's not about impressing her. I want to spend time with her, Max. She's... she's different."
Max raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "Different, huh? Well, just be careful, okay?"
Lando nodded, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and anticipation. "Of course."
As Max left the room, Lando took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew Max was just looking out for him, but there was something about you that made him want to take the risk. With a determined smile, he finished getting ready and was about to head out to meet you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement building inside him.
Right as he was leaving the villa, Max’s voice rang out. “If you need an excuse to skip out, I can come up with something. No need to torture yourself over fish.”
Lando shook his head, appreciating the concern. “Thanks, Max, but I’ll be fine. I just… I don’t want to ruin this. She’s really excited about the place.”
A very short drive later, Lando knocked on your door, and when you opened it, his eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over you. You wore a simple yet elegant dress, the color complementing your features perfectly.
“Wow,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look amazing.”
Blushing slightly at his compliment, you thanked him and closed the door behind you as you left your cottage, walking towards Lando’s car. “Thanks, Lando, you don’t look too bad yourself.”
He fell in step beside you, still admiring your outfit. “So, do you have a hot date or something?”
You chuckled at his question, shaking your head. “Nope, no dates, just going out with some racer guy, not sure if you know him.”
Sitting in his car, he instantly looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Hmm, sounds like a great guy! Is he interesting?”
You laughed, nudging him as he drove. “Very.”
When you arrived at the restaurant, the sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water. It was nestled right by the harbor, with a perfect view of the boats coming and going. Lando parked the car and helped you out, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary as he offered support for your still-healing ankle. Even though you could walk without needing support again, you didn’t mind holding onto his hand.
“Wow, this place is beautiful,” he said, genuinely impressed by the picturesque setting.
“I told you,” you replied with a satisfied smile. “Come on, let’s get a table by the window.”
The interior of the restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation filling the air. A small fish tank adorned one corner of the room, the colorful fish swimming lazily in the water. Lando couldn’t help but chuckle nervously as he glanced at the tank.
“Kinda cruel, isn’t it?” he joked, nodding towards the fish tank. "Having live fish in a seafood restaurant," Lando remarked with a wry smile.
Still, you laughed, nodding in agreement. "The owners think it adds to the ambiance."
As you were seated and handed the menus, Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself for the seafood-heavy options. But when he looked across the table and saw your excited expression, he hoped it would all be worth it. This evening was about enjoying your company, and he was determined to do just that, and perhaps if everything went very well, he might casually mention that he’d like to take you out on an actual date.
As the waiter took your orders, you couldn't contain your excitement, eager to indulge in the fresh seafood the restaurant had to offer. Lando, however, seemed a bit hesitant, but he eventually settled on a dish, trying to mask his apprehension with a smile.
Once the food arrived, you dug in eagerly, savoring each bite of the delicious seafood. However, as you glanced over at Lando, you noticed something was off. His attempts to conceal his discomfort were evident, and you could see the struggle on his face as he hesitantly bit into a shrimp, his expression revealing disgust as he tried to swallow it.
Concerned, you leaned closer to him, your voice soft with worry. "Is everything okay, Lando?"
He hesitated, clearly torn, spitting the piece of shrimp into a tissue before finally admitting, "I'm sorry, I just... I can't do seafood."
Surprised by his confession, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Lando shrugged, looking sheepish. "I didn't want to ruin your plans, you looked so excited to come here and I thought I could handle it, but..."
Without hesitation, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Leading him out of the restaurant, you felt a mix of disappointment and concern. Disappointed that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing such a simple detail with you, and concerned that he attempted to eat a shrimp, knowing he disliked it, all for your sake.
But as you walked together, you were determined to salvage the evening because you didn’t want the night to end just yet. "How about we find a burger place? Is that something you'll enjoy."
Lando's gratitude was evident in his smile as he nodded, and together, you set off to find a new spot to continue your evening, determined to make it memorable for all the right reasons.
You and Lando ended up sitting in his car, munching on takeout burgers and fries, the mood was light and laughter filled the air. Lando was in the middle of telling a funny story from his racing season, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he recounted the antics of how multiple of his fellow drivers tried to convince him to try seafood but failed.
You couldn’t help but laugh along, enjoying the animated way he described each moment. You playfully nudged Lando, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, it seems like all those F1 drivers couldn’t get you to try seafood, but I did, even if it was just a bite!”
Lando leaned back in his seat, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips. “You know, for you, I’d try anything… except seafood.”
As you heard Lando's words, a soft realization came to you that his remark held a hint of flirtation.
“Why don’t you like seafood anyways?” you couldn’t help but ask, especially since this town was full of loads of seafood options and now you had to think of other restaurants for him to try.
Lando shrugged, taking another bite of his burger before answering. “I guess it’s just not my thing. I’ve never been a fan of the taste or the texture.”
As you indulged in your burger, a smear of sauce found its way to the corner of your lips. Lando's eyes caught the small detail, and with a gentle smile, he pointed it out. "You've got a little something right there."
You chuckled, raising your hand to wipe it away, but before you could, Lando's fingers grazed over the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce. His touch was gentle, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he leaned in close.
A subtle warmth spread through you at the intimacy of the gesture, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as you met his gaze. There was something unspoken between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing connection that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.
His fingers lingered at the edge of your lips, and you could feel his breath, warm and inviting, mingling with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that fleeting instant.
“Lando…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The space between you grew smaller, your faces inching closer together.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. The anticipation was electric, a charged moment that seemed to stretch on forever.
But then, he pulled back, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “I don’t want our first kiss to be like this,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You deserve a proper date first.”
A mix of disappointment and warmth washed over you. His thoughtfulness, his desire to make things right, only made your heart ache more with affection. Amidst the laughter and shared stories, his words hung between you, a promise of something more.
As quickly as the thought arose, the weight of your illness pressed down on you, reminding you of life's fragility and the uncertainty of tomorrow. Your thoughts lingered on wondering if you even had a future in general. To entertain the idea of a future with him would only cause your heart to ache, knowing that you might not live to see those dreams come true.
The thought of a future, a proper date, a real kiss—all of it seemed so painfully out of reach.
It was a bittersweet realization, knowing that even the simplest of dreams could be overshadowed by the reality of your condition. While he would return back to the fast paced world of racing, you would remain in this small town, wondering how many more dreams you would have to crush because fate decided to take away your life, inch by inch.
Awkwardness filled the car on your end, your emotions shifting to cold and stoic, like they were before you met him. The warm connection you had felt only moments ago was replaced by a wall you erected to protect your heart. Lando noticed the change, his cheerful demeanor faltering as the silence grew heavy between you.
Soon enough, you both finished your burgers, and Lando started the car to drive you home. The ride was quiet, the earlier laughter and easy conversation now replaced by a tension that neither of you acknowledged. When he pulled up to your house, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.
“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked softly.
You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for the evening, Lando.”
He watched as you climbed out of the car, a confused and worried expression on his face. As you walked to your door, you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look back. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as a tear threatened to slip down your cheek.
Lando sat in his car, staring at the closed door, wondering what he had done wrong and why the evening had ended on such a somber note. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had changed, but he had no idea what it was or how to fix it.
—
Over the next couple of days, you don’t acknowledge the thoughts that are bubbling up in your mind, instead choosing to tread carefully and immerse yourself in your daily routine. You’ve lived a lot more than you have over the past couple of months, and felt the joy that it brings. But now, you had to face the consequences causing you to distance yourself away from Lando before you got too attached to the happiness that came with being around him. Once you realized that you truly wanted to kiss him that night, everything changed. You had to take a preemptive measure, a self-imposed boundary designed to shield your heart from potential pain.
Your health deteriorated significantly. Your energy waned, and simple tasks like walking around the house left you breathless and exhausted. Fortunately, you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled, a simple routine checkup. However, it coincided with plans you made with Lando. Determined to distance yourself from him, you don’t tell him about the change of plans.
At the doctor’s appointment, you sit in the sterile examination room, the familiar scent of antiseptic mingling with nerves that coil in the pit of your stomach. These appointments, routine yet crucial, serve as a barometer of your ongoing battle against your illness.
As the doctor enters, his expression is professional yet compassionate, his eyes scanning through your medical history with a practiced ease. You recount the recent symptoms you’ve been experiencing, the fatigue that seems to seep into your bones, and the persistent ache that lingers despite treatment.
With a sympathetic nod, the doctor orders a series of tests, his urgency palpable as he reviews your file. The minutes stretch into an eternity as you wait for the results, each passing second filled with a silent plea for a glimmer of hope.
When the test results finally come back, the doctor’s demeanor shifts subtly, his tone measured yet grave. “I’m afraid the results are not as we had hoped,” he begins, his words heavy with significance.
Your heart sinks at the confirmation of your worst fears, the reality of your illness casting a shadow over your hopes for improvement. Despite your best efforts, it seems that the tide of your health is turning against you once again.
A sense of dread fills you as he explains that the illness has advanced more rapidly than expected. “We need to keep you overnight for observation,” he says gently. “Your vitals are unstable, and we need to adjust your treatment plan.”
You nod, too emotionally tired to object, allowing a nurse to lead you to the hospital room, one that you became too familiar with over the past few years. You would spend yet another night under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, experience another round of tests and treatments, and take another uncertain step into the abyss of your illness.
You lie in the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar beeps and hums of the medical equipment provide a disconcerting backdrop to your thoughts, each sound a reminder of the precariousness of your health.
As you drift in and out of consciousness, your mind wanders to Lando, the plans you had made together now nothing more than distant dreams. Guilt gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that he waits for you, unaware of the sudden turn your day has taken.
Just as the shadows of doubt threaten to overwhelm you, a soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn to see Isaac's familiar face framed in the doorway, concern etched into his features.
"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room to sit beside you. "I got your text. Are you okay?"
You manage a weak smile, grateful for his presence amidst the sterile confines of the hospital room. "Yeah, just another setback," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
Isaac reaches out to squeeze your hand gently, his touch a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty. "You’ll get through this," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.
As Isaac settles into the chair beside your hospital bed, he observes the flurry of activity around you—the nurses bustling about, the doctors conferring in hushed tones, tweaking the machines, their purpose still a mystery to him after all these visits.
When there's a lull in the commotion, Isaac hesitates before speaking, his voice soft with concern. "Hey, I wanted to let you know... Lando stopped by the cottage today."
“What’d he say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
"He asked about you today," Isaac begins, his tone gentle. "Said you had plans but you didn't show. He mentioned he hasn't seen you in a couple of days. Is everything okay between you two?"
You nod weakly, offering a small smile to reassure Isaac. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I don't know, I guess I realized that I've been enjoying his company a lot more than I should, given my condition."
He frowns, “what’s wrong with that? You’re both happy around each other, so why are you distancing yourself away from him?”
You scoff, “have you seen me?” You raise your arm that has an IV inserted, along with the other wires connected to you.
“It doesn’t matter,” Isaac insists gently. “He cares about you. You deserve happiness too, regardless of what’s going on with your health.”
You shake your head, a hint of frustration in your voice. “You don’t understand, Isaac. I don’t have a guarantee of how I’m spending the next week, let alone the rest of my life. I don’t want to hurt Lando by snatching away his happiness one day too. I’m just… preventing myself, and him, from getting too attached to each other.”
Isaac sighs, his expression softening with understanding. "You're not scared of getting too attached, are you? You already are, whether you admit it or not. But by staying away, you're only hurting yourself and him more."
You avert your gaze, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I know," you admit quietly. "But I don't know what else to do."
"He deserves to know if he's falling in love with you," Isaac says gently, his voice filled with concern. "And you deserve to have someone by your side, especially during the tough times."
You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he's right but still unsure of what to do next. "I guess I did find someone that fate hates more than me."
"So you agree, that he's in love with you?" Isaac probes, searching your eyes for confirmation.
"He's only in love because he barely knows me," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness.
“Maybe you should give him a chance to know you, the real you,” he responds.
You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, you know Isaac is right, but the fear of hurting Lando is overwhelming. Yet, the thought of pushing him away hurts just as much.
Before you can dwell on it further, a nurse enters the room, breaking the momentary silence. Isaac gives you a reassuring smile before standing up to give you some privacy. As he leaves, his words linger in the air, leaving you to contemplate the complexities of your situation.
The next morning, you’re discharged, feeling even more drained. The doctors have adjusted your medications, but the prognosis remains grim.
You left the hospital, walking in step beside Isaac for a moment until he headed towards the parking lot to bring the car around. As you were blinking in the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collided with Max, who was just outside chatting with someone on his phone.
“Hey there!” Max greets you with a wide grin, sliding his phone into his pocket. However, his expression quickly turns into a frown as he notices the hospital wristband adorning your wrist. “Wait, were you in there?” he asks, concern lacing his words. “Is everything okay?”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily or dive into the complexities of your recent hospital stay. “Oh, it was just a routine checkup, some bloodwork, you know how that goes, nothing to worry about,” you assure him with a tight-lipped smile.
Max’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly not entirely convinced by your explanation, but he decides not to press further.
He glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “I was just at the café right down the street.”
You nod, “good choice, they make the best coffee in town.”
He smiled as his choice was approved by you. “Do you need a ride? I’m heading back to the villa.”
You shook your head, “no it’s alright, Isaac’s bringing the car around.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll see you around, only a few more days left before we leave this paradise,” he reminds you.
You offer him a grateful nod. “Yeah, time flies, doesn’t it?” you reply with a forced smile since you were hoping to return home soon. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
As Max nods in agreement and starts to walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that he suspects something isn’t quite right. But you push the thought aside, determined to focus on the present moment and put on a brave face as you step away from the hospital and back into the world outside.
As Isaac parks in the driveway, you notice Lando pacing back and forth by the front door, his brows furrowed in concern. The sight of him fills you with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Isaac’s words echo in your mind, urging you to be honest with Lando, to tell him how much you care about him, to share the burden of your illness. But fear gnaws at your insides, whispering that revealing the truth will only drive him away.
His expression changes from relief to frustration as he sees you approaching.
“Where were you?” he demanded, his voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
As you and Lando stand in front of each other, locked in a tense silence, Isaac takes a step back, sensing the need for privacy between you two. With a subtle nod, he heads inside the cottage, leaving you and Lando alone on the doorstep.
The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you both with its palpable intensity. You struggle to find the right words to break the silence, to bridge the growing chasm between you, but fear and uncertainty grip you like a vice, paralyzing your tongue.
Lando shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you as if searching for answers in the depths of your eyes. His expression is a mix of hurt and confusion, mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within your own heart.
You want to tell Lando the truth, to let him in, but the thought of exposing your vulnerabilities terrifies you. You can’t bear the idea of him seeing you as fragile, of pitying you. So, holding your head up high, you decide to make him hate you before he realizes that he loves you.
You force a nonchalant shrug, trying to play it off. “I had some errands to run, and I forgot we had plans.”
“Forgot?” he repeats, incredulous. “We made those plans a while ago. Forget that, I haven’t seen you for days. What’s really going on?”
Annoyed, and wanting to distance yourself from him before your feelings grow even stronger, you let a hint of irritation seep into your voice. “I don’t owe you an explanation for everything I do, Lando. It’s not a big deal.”
He’s taken aback by your rudeness, his face falling slightly. “Not a big deal? I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Well, you don’t need to be,” you say curtly, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
An awkward silence falls between you two, the tension palpable. Lando’s expression shifts from hurt to confusion. He takes a step back, clearly stung by your words.
“Fine,” he says quietly, his voice pained. “If that’s how you want it.”
You nod, turning away from him and heading inside, each step feeling heavier than the last. Lando stands outside for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to your abrupt change in behavior, but he respects your wish for distance. With a heavy heart, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echo of the door closing between you
You lean against the door, quickly sliding down and sitting on the floor as you cover your face with your hands, fighting back tears.
Pushing him away is probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you convince yourself it’s for the best.
Isaac spots you sitting on the floor, and quickly rushes towards you. Moving your hands away from your face, he notices the tears staining your cheeks and has an idea of how the conversation went with Lando.
"You're still as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" he remarked rhetorically, but then he enveloped you in his arms, holding you close as you trembled with sobs.
You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you tried to compose yourself. "I can't tell him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.
Meanwhile, Lando trudged back to the villa, his mind heavy with thoughts and his heart weighed down by the encounter with you. When he arrived, Max was idly sitting around.
“Hey, mate,” Max greeted but his expression turned serious as he observed Lando’s demeanour. “You okay?”
Lando shrugged, sitting next to Max as he tried to brush off the weight of his emotions. “I saw her today.”
He nodded, “how’d it go?”
Lando frowned, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know, Max. That’s the thing. It’s like I saw a completely different person today. Someone I thought I knew, but now… she’s like a stranger.”
Max furrowed his brow, concerned. “What do you mean?”
Lando shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she was pushing me away, Max. Acting cold and distant, like she didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Max nodded in understanding. “Well, mate, maybe she’s just having a rough day. I mean, she was at the hospital earlier.”
His words caught Lando off guard. He blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing as he processed the information. “Wait, she was at the hospital?” he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.
Max nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I saw her leaving earlier today. Said it wasn’t serious, just a routine check up but she looked very tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in days.”
Lando’s concern deepened as he absorbed Max’s words. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he murmured, a mix of worry and frustration evident in his voice.
Max placed a comforting hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space, mate. It’s not easy opening up about personal stuff, especially to someone you care about a lot.”
“You think she cares about me?” Lando asked, his tone almost a mumbling mess.
Max scoffed, “see I knew you were an idiot but not to this extent that you don’t even see the obvious. Of course she cares about you, mate!”
“Well I know that, it’s just I don’t wanna read into something that’s not there, you know?”
Max squeezed Lando’s shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, mate, it’s there. Sometimes, we just need a little nudge to see what’s right in front of us.”
Lando nodded slowly, his mind still swirling with doubts and questions. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded, a faint glimmer of hope starting to flicker within him.
Max grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just give her some time, and I’m sure things will sort themselves out.”
The cottage exudes a somber atmosphere, suffused with memories of those initial days when you sought refuge from your parents' house, just across town. After your diagnosis, living with your parents became unbearable, evoking memories of your tumultuous teenage years, always feeling scolded and misunderstood. With persuasion and determination, you relocated to the cottage, that has always acted as a second childhood home, with your brother, longing for respite from the tumult of your parents' home. Eventually, your parents themselves moved to the next town over, seeking their own fresh start, leaving you and your brother to navigate the challenges of your illness in your quiet abode.
Now, as you sit in the same kitchen where you once grappled with the harsh reality of your illness, the mood is eerily similar. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you as the silence in the cottage seems to press down, a stark contrast to the vibrant conversations and laughter that once echoed within these walls during your childhood summers. Even more palpably, you recall the warmth of recent memories, the shared laughter with Lando when you had twisted your ankle, filling the space with a joy that now feels distant and elusive. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as if one wrong move could shatter the fragile peace you carefully built.
Isaac sits across from you, his presence comforting amidst the somber atmosphere. He watches you closely, his gaze filled with concern and understanding.
“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking the silence that hangs heavy between you.
You force a smile, but it feels hollow on your lips. “Just tired,” you reply, the words barely audible over the quiet hum of the refrigerator.
While Isaac may be aware of some of the pain you feel, he doesn’t know the full extent of what you’re enduring. You want to shield him from the worst, hiding just how much it hurts. The pain has been relentless, gnawing at you day and night, with only a brief sense of comfort for a few hours after taking your medication. Every movement feels like a struggle, every breath a reminder of the fragility of your condition.
Isaac studies your face, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You should call Mom and Dad,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “They need to know what’s going on. Your health is getting worse.”
You shake your head, the thought of burdening your parents with more bad news twisting your stomach into knots. “They’ve been hoping I’m getting better.”
Isaac sighs, reaching across the table to take your hand. “They’re gonna find out soon enough and they’ll want to be here for you, to support you. It’s better they hear it from you than from anyone else.”
You look down at your hands, Isaac’s warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your bones. “I just… I don’t want to shatter their hope again.”
Isaac squeezes your hand gently. “They love you. They’re not going to be disappointed in you. They’ll be worried, sure, but they need to know. You need all the support you can get.”
You nod slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’ll call them.”
Isaac gives you a reassuring smile, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.”
You manage a hint of a smile, looking at Isaac. “You know,” you say softly, “you’re such a good older brother especially for someone who’s younger than me.”
Isaac chuckles, a warm, comforting sound in the quiet room. “Age is just a number,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Besides, someone has to keep you in line.”
“Keep me in line? I think we’ve switched roles, remember how I used to keep you out of trouble?” You remark.
You can feel the tension ease in the room as Isaac laughs at the memory before standing up to prepare dinner, allowing you to pick up your phone.
The thought of hearing your parents’ voices fills you with a mixture of fear and relief. You know Isaac is right, but the conversation ahead feels like another mountain to climb. Taking a deep breath, you dial the familiar number, bracing yourself for what’s to come. The phone rings, and with each passing moment, you feel the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on you.
Finally, your mother answers, her voice warm and familiar. “Hello, sweetie. It’s been a while since you called. How are you?”
You hesitate for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi, Mom. I… I need to talk to you about something.”
There’s a pause, and you can hear the concern in her voice. “What is it, honey? Is everything alright?”
Before you can respond, she quickly switches to a video call. Her face appears on the screen, eyes wide with worry. “Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.
Seeing her face makes it harder to hold back your emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Mom, I’ve been trying to stay strong and not worry you and Dad, but… my health has been getting worse.”
Her expression shifts from concern to fear and then to a hint of anger masking hurt. “Worse? How worse, dear? Are you not taking care of yourself properly?”
You wince at her words, knowing they come from a place of worry. “I stayed a night at the hospital,” you continue. “They said if it doesn’t get better with the new medication, I’ll have to go back. The pain has been relentless. I can barely move without feeling it, and the medication only helps for a few hours.”
Your mother’s face pales, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We’ve been hoping you were getting better.”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, your voice cracking. “I wanted to protect you from the worst of it.”
Your mother shakes her head, wiping away a tear. “We’re your parents. We want to be there for you, no matter what. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I know,” you say, your own tears starting to fall. “It’s just so hard. Every day feels like a struggle, and I didn’t want to burden you.”
Isaac rounds the kitchen table and speaks up, his voice steady and supportive. “We’re all in this together, Mom. We need your support now more than ever.”
Your mother nods, her expression determined, though the hurt still lingers in her eyes. “We’ll be there for you, sweetheart. Every step of the way.”
Just then, she turns her head and calls out, “Honey, come here. It’s important.”
A moment later, your father appears on the screen, his face etched with concern. “What’s going on?”
Your mother explains quickly, her voice trembling. “She’s not doing well. She had to stay overnight at the hospital, and she might have to go back soon. We need to be there for her.”
Your father’s expression hardens with resolve. “We’ll come over soon. Don’t worry, just be careful.”
Hearing his firm, supportive words, you feel a sense of relief and hope. “I will, thank you, Dad. I love you both.”
“We love you too,” he replies, his voice full of emotion. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”
After exchanging goodbyes and promising to see each other soon, you hang up the phone, feeling a slight sense of relief wash over you. Though it's only temporary, the weight on your shoulders lifts ever so slightly.
As Isaac reveals dinner, the aroma of his culinary creation fills the air, tempting your senses with its savory goodness. But as you take a closer look at your own plate, disappointment washes over you. The food in front of you is bland and uninspiring, reminiscent of the tasteless hospital meals you’ve grown accustomed to.
You poke at your food with little enthusiasm, knowing that the increased dosage of medication has left your taste buds dulled and unresponsive. “I can’t eat this,” you mutter, pushing the plate away with a sigh.
Isaac looks up from his own meal, concern creasing his eyebrow. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s important for your recovery.”
You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “But it tastes like nothing,” you protest, the monotony of the hospital diet weighing heavily on your spirit.
Isaac nods sympathetically, understanding your struggle. “I know it’s tough,” he says softly. “But remember what the doctor said about avoiding spice. It’s all part of the plan to help you get better.”
Reluctantly, you take a small bite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow despite the lack of flavor. The effort feels futile, but you know Isaac is right. You need to keep up your strength, even if it means enduring tasteless meals for the time being.
As you pick at your food, Isaac’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone lighthearted but determined. “Hey, once you’re feeling better, we’ll have a hot chicken wing contest,” he suggests, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Just like old times. And I promise, I’ll make them so spicy, you won’t be able to taste anything for a week.”
Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. The idea of a hot chicken wing contest brings back memories of happier times, when your biggest worry was who would win the next round.
“Deal,” you agree, the idea of better days ahead spurring you on. But deep down, you know the truth that you can’t bring yourself to voice aloud in front of him again. You’re not getting better, no matter how much you wish you could.
The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency gnawing at your insides, an inexplicable feeling pulling you towards the lighthouse. It’s as if an invisible force is guiding you, compelling you to make this journey one last time.
As you slip out of bed and prepare to leave the house, a mixture of determination and trepidation fills your heart. You know deep down that this might be the last opportunity you have to climb those stairs, to feel the wind on your face as you stand at the top and gaze out at the vast expanse of the ocean.
Isaac notices your movements and steps forward, concern etched into his features.
“Hey, where are you off to?” he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should share your intentions. But then, you meet his gaze and find solace in his familiar eyes.
“I’m going to the lighthouse,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. “I just… need some time alone.”
Isaac’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, offering silent support.
“Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “And if you need anything, call me.”
With a grateful nod, you offer him a small smile before turning to leave, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.
You make your way up the stairs to the lighthouse, each step feeling heavier than the last. The climb feels like an uphill battle, and you find yourself pausing every few steps to catch your breath.
Your chest heaves with the effort, and a wave of dizziness washes over you as you reach the halfway point. You lean against the railing, willing yourself to continue despite the fatigue that threatens to overwhelm you.
With each step, the distance between you and the top of the lighthouse seems to stretch on forever. Your muscles ache with exertion, and your breath comes in ragged gasps.
But you refuse to give up. You grit your teeth and push through the pain, focusing all your energy on reaching the summit. With each step, you draw closer to your goal, fueled by the determination to see the view from the top one last time.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the top of the lighthouse, gasping for air, only to find Lando already there, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the horizon. He turns as he hears your footsteps and ragged breaths, surprise flickering across his face.
He takes a step back, clearly intending to give you some space. “I’ll go down,” he mutters awkwardly, gesturing towards the stairs. “This place is your spot.”
But before he can move away, you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No,” you say firmly, your voice stronger than you feel. “Stay.”
He hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but then he nods and settles back against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you lean against the railing beside him. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you, being close to him brings a sense of comfort that you can’t quite explain.
“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his presence beside you.
He offers you a small, tentative smile in return, his hand tightening around yours in a silent gesture of support.
Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you turn to Lando, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you two like a heavy blanket.
"Listen, I owe you an apology," you begin, your voice soft but sincere. "I've been acting... differently lately, and I want you to know that it's not because of anything you did. That day, I was at the hospital for a routine checkup, and it just tired me out more than I expected. I’m sorry about ditching our plans."
You technically didn’t lie, but also didn’t tell him the whole truth either. You pause, searching his face for any sign of understanding or acceptance. His expression softens, and you feel a flicker of relief.
"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," you continue, your tone earnest. "I appreciate your patience, and I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome."
Lando nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay," he says gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable by showing up here."
You shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, you don't need to apologize. I'm glad you're here."
With that, the tension between you starts to dissolve, replaced by a sense of mutual understanding and acceptance as you stand side by side, watching the waves crash against the shore below.
Taking a moment to admire the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. But as the adrenaline of the climb begins to wear off, your legs start to tremble beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.
Recognizing the warning signs of exhaustion, you carefully lower yourself to the ground, your muscles protesting with each movement. Sitting down with a heavy sigh of relief, you lean back against the cool stone wall of the lighthouse, grateful for the brief respite from the physical strain.
Lando joined you as well, sitting side by side on the floor of the lighthouse. You continue to hold onto his hand, your fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly. However, despite your attempt to clear the air, he still seems hesitant, his brows furrowed with confusion.
Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Lando breaks the silence. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he begins, his voice tentative.
You turn to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “Of course,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of the conversation.
He hesitates for a moment before plunging ahead. “Did something happen the night we went for burgers?” he asks, his words carefully measured. “I mean, you seemed off after… and I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”
Realization dawns on you that he’s talking about the almost kiss. The memory of that night floods back, the charged moment in his car when he had pulled back. You had admired his restraint, his desire to do things right, but it also made your heart ache with longing.
Your heart sinks at his words, the guilt weighing heavy on your chest. “No, Lando,” you assure him, squeezing his hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You glance at him, seeing the earnest concern in his eyes. How you wish you had the courage to pull him in by his collar and kiss him then, to let him know just how much he meant to you despite everything.
But he doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze searching yours for any sign of dishonesty. “Don’t lie,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.
You hesitate, grappling with the weight of your own emotions and the truth you’re desperate to conceal. Part of you wants to tell him how much his presence means to you, how his laughter lights up even the darkest corners of your world. But fear holds you back, whispering cruel reminders of the inevitability of heartbreak both of you will experience.
Instead of answering his question, you take a deep breath and change the subject. “So, when are you leaving?” you ask, trying to divert his attention away from your own turmoil.
He furrows his brow, clearly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation but decides not to push for an answer. “Tomorrow,” he replies, a hint of sadness in his voice.
You offer him a small smile, “well, I hope you had a good time despite my lackluster tour guide skills,” you quip, attempting to lighten the mood.
He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Meeting you was my favorite part,” he admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. “Spending time with you, even if it wasn’t every day, made this trip unforgettable.”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his admission, the warmth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that ignites a natural spark of flirtation between you.
In the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, you find yourself caught up in the moment with Lando, the days missed due to your own fear melting away with each shared smile and genuine laugh. Despite the lingering weight of your illness and the uncertainty that shadows your future, you're finally able to let go of the constant worry and embrace the present.
You realize that constantly dwelling on the unknown, on whether you'll have more time together or not, only serves to rob you of the joy of the moment. So instead, you allow yourself to be fully present with Lando, savoring each precious second together.
Yet, beneath the surface of your newfound acceptance, there still lingers a trace of fear. You know that distancing yourself from Lando won't protect either of you from the inevitable pain that lies ahead. His genuine smile, the way his eyes light up when he's with you, speaks volumes, and you can't deny the pull you feel toward him.
Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds, you're willing to take the risk, to open your heart to the possibility of love, even if it means facing the inevitable heartache that may follow. Because in the end, the fleeting moments of happiness you share with Lando are worth every ounce of pain.
Lando straightens up, his movements fluid and confident, as he leans in closer, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey, do you mind giving me your number and surname?" he asks casually, but there's a hint of mischief in his tone.
You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "What are you going to do with that information?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.
His smile widens, a charming grin that could melt anyone's heart. "Well, first so we can still stay in touch even if I’m on the other side of the world, and second so I can send you a pass for one of my races," he replies smoothly, his voice laced with playful charm.
You can't help but chuckle at his response, shaking your head in amusement. "And why would I come to your race?" you tease, enjoying the banter between you.
Lando's gaze softens, a warmth in his eyes that catches you off guard. "I think you might be my lucky charm," he admits, his tone sincere.
You pause, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with uncertainty. "You believe in lucky charms?" you ask, a hint of skepticism in your voice.
He nods, his smile unwavering. "I didn't," he confesses, "but now it seems like a good time to start believing. Why are you asking so many questions?" he adds playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
You can't help but smile at his lighthearted demeanor, appreciating the way he effortlessly lightens the mood. "You don't want me as a lucky charm," you reply, a touch of self-doubt creeping into your voice.
Lando's expression softens, his gaze filled with genuine warmth. "Why not?" he counters, his tone gentle yet determined.
"It won't last long," you murmur, a pang of sadness tugging at your heart as you glance away.
He reaches out, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "It'll last as long as you're by my side," he insists, his voice sincere and unwavering. "That is up to you, don't you think so?"
His words catch you off guard, stirring something deep within you. "Now who's asking lots of questions?" you tease, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Still you," he replies with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with affection.
You shake your head, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful banter. "You're something else, Lando."
"So are you," he replies, his smile soft and genuine. "In the best way possible."
You oblige Lando’s request, typing your phone number into his phone and saving your full name in his contacts. It’s a small gesture, but one that feels significant in the moment, despite the fact that you know you’ll never take him up on the offer for a pass to his race.
As the sun casts its golden glow across the rugged coastline, you and Lando sit side by side, taking in the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse. The air is filled with the sounds of seagulls circling overhead and the distant rumble of waves crashing against the shore below.
Lando’s arm around your shoulders feels like a lifeline, grounding you in the present moment amidst the tumult of your thoughts and emotions. You find solace in his presence, a sense of calm washing over you as you soak in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
The playful banter and teasing remarks give way to a comfortable silence, allowing you both to simply be in each other’s company without the need for words. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy, where the weight of the world fades away and all that matters is the connection between you and Lando.
You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the reassuring strength of his arm around you. In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of Lando’s presence, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever the future may hold, you’re grateful for this moment of shared serenity.
As you both prepare to descend the stairs, Lando pauses, noticing your reluctance to leave the view behind. "Shouldn't I be the one lingering back to admire the horizon? After all, I'm the one leaving, not you," he quips with a playful smirk.
You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head in amusement. "Come on, Lando, don't act like you're the only one who appreciates a good view," you tease back, nudging him lightly.
He grins, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to the scenery. "Fair point," he concedes, his tone light and playful. “I’ll wait for you downstairs then.”
You nod, watching him make his way down the stairs. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair, and you take a deep breath, committing the scene to memory.
With a sense of purpose, you scan the area, searching for the perfect spot to leave your message. Your eyes alight on a small alcove tucked away in a corner, sheltered from the wind and hidden from plain sight. It’s a secluded nook, easily overlooked by passersby, but will be found if it’s searched for.
Slipping something into the alcove, you ensure it’s nestled securely among the shadows, a subtle gesture meant for only the most observant of visitors. With a satisfied nod, you turn to follow Lando down the stairs.
—
The following day is a whirlwind of activity as your parents arrive at the cottage. They come bearing an array of supplies and comforts, ready to pamper you with their love and attention.
"Sweetheart, we brought some of your favorite homemade meals," your mom chirps, bustling into the kitchen with bags of groceries in tow.
Your dad follows closely behind, a stack of freshly laundered blankets in his arms. "And I made sure to pack extra blankets in case you get chilly," he adds with a warm smile.
Isaac turns to your mother, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Just a heads up, she can’t have any spicy food because of the doctor’s orders,” he explains, hoping to avoid any culinary mishaps.
“Isaac, don’t ruin it,” you mutter, holding the tupperware filled with your favourite dishes.
Your dad, overhearing the conversation, interjects with a reassuring pat on Isaac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. Your mother has spent many hours in the kitchen cooking up a storm for our girl here,” he says with a fond smile. “A little taste of home can work wonders for the soul.”
You can't help but smile at their fussing, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt at their doting gestures. "How long are you planning to stay?" you inquire, trying to gauge the extent of their visit.
"Until you're better, of course," your mom replies without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Throughout the day, your parents dote on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. They fluff pillows, brew tea, and fuss over you as if you were a child again, and despite the sadness that tugs at your heart, you find solace in their presence.
As evening falls and the cottage is filled with the aroma of home-cooked meals, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. These moments of familial closeness are precious, and you savor each one, knowing deep down that they may be fleeting.
Amidst the cozy atmosphere that had filled your cottage, a sudden realization dawns on you. Today is the day Lando is leaving, and with the flurry of activity happening throughout the day, you had almost forgotten.
Abandoning your dinner mid-bite, you quickly put on a pair of shoes, your heart pounding with urgency. As you rush towards the door, your parents pause in their fussing, exchanging puzzled glances as they notice your abrupt departure.
“Where are you going?” your mom asks, concern etched in her voice.
You pause in the doorway, a sense of determination driving you forward. “I have to see Lando,” you reply, your words rushed and breathless.
As you disappear out the door, your parents turn to your brother, confusion evident in their expressions. “Who’s Lando?” your dad asks, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.
Isaac sighs, shaking his head as he meets their gaze. “He’s the one she’s in love with,” he explains softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But I’m not sure if she’s ready to accept it yet.”
As you reach the villa, your breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale becoming a struggle. Pain pulses through your chest with every heartbeat, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Adrenaline surges through your veins, driving you forward with an urgency born of raw emotion.
Your eyes scan the scene before you, taking in the sight of Max hurriedly loading the car with his and Lando’s bags. The trunk is nearly full, a testament to the impending departure that looms over you like a storm cloud. You feel a knot form in your stomach, a sense of panic seizing hold of you as you realize that time is slipping away.
Then, amidst the chaos, you spot Lando emerging from the villa, his expression one of surprise and concern as he catches sight of you. His brow furrows in confusion, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.
Without hesitation, you push yourself forward, your feet carrying you towards him with a desperate urgency. With trembling hands, you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm before wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His warmth envelops you, a comforting anchor amidst the storm raging within you. For a fleeting moment, the pain in your chest eases, replaced by a sense of peace that only he can provide.
For a long moment, you simply hold onto each other, the world around you fading into insignificance as you find solace in each other’s arms. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you, the truth lingering on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed.
As you finally pull away, a silent understanding passes between you, a shared acknowledgment of the depth of your connection. Lando’s gaze searches yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, silently asking if you’re okay.
You manage a faint smile, though it feels fragile on your lips. “I just had to see you before you left,” you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
His expression softens, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. “I’m glad you came,” he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.
You linger for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory. Then, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly release him, knowing that time is running short.
As Lando returns to help Max with the bags, you watch him go, a sense of longing tugging at your heart.
Once everything was packed up, Lando and Max walked towards you, their footsteps echoing on the gravel driveway. Max reaches you first, his face lit with a warm smile. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a brief, friendly hug.
“Thanks for the good company,” Max says, his voice full of genuine gratitude. “And for keeping Lando’s mood up throughout this trip. You’ve been a real lifesaver.” He chuckles, the sound infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him.
“Anytime,” you reply, your smile widening. “It’s been fun having you both around.”
Max steps back, giving Lando space to step forward. Lando’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a depth of emotion there that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes your hands in his, holding them gently as if afraid you might disappear.
“This isn’t goodbye,” Lando says softly, his tone filled with a mixture of hope and determination. “Just a ‘see you later,’ alright?”
You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “See you later,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.
Lando pulls you into a tight embrace this time, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You breathe in his familiar scent, the comfort of his presence grounding you in the moment.
He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searches your face. “Don’t think I forgot about giving you a pass,” he says with a small, teasing smile. “I’ll be waiting for you at the race.”
You smile through the tears that threaten to spill over. “We’ll see.”
Max claps Lando on the back, breaking the emotional moment. “Come on, mate, we’ve got a plane to catch.”
With one last look, Lando releases you and heads towards the car. You watch them drive away, a mix of sadness and hope swirling within you. The ache in your chest grows, but you try to push it aside, focusing on ways to fulfill the promise of seeing him again.
As you start walking back home, the exertion from earlier catches up to you. Your breath becomes labored, each step feeling heavier than the last. A sharp pain radiates through your chest, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright. Determined to make it back to the cottage, you push on, but every movement is a reminder of your body’s limitations.
By the time you reach the door, you’re barely holding on. You collapse onto the porch steps, gasping for breath, the world around you blurring as you fight to stay conscious. Moments later, the door swings open, and Isaac is there, his face pale with worry.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, rushing to your side. His voice sounds distant, echoing in your ears.
You try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you manage a weak nod, though it’s clear you’re far from okay.
Isaac doesn’t waste another second. He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you inside. “Mom! Dad!” he calls out, his voice frantic. “Something’s wrong. We need to get her to the hospital.”
Your parents appear almost instantly, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Your dad grabs the car keys while your mom hurries to gather your things, her hands shaking.
In the car, you drift in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. Your mom holds your hand tightly, whispering soothing words that barely register. Isaac drives with a grim focus, the worry in his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.
At the hospital, the staff quickly takes over, whisking you away on a stretcher. Your family is left in the waiting room, their anxious faces a blur as you’re rushed through the halls.
As the doctors and nurses work to stabilize you, you catch fleeting thoughts of Lando, Max, and the brief, bright moments you shared. The reality of your condition settles in, and you realize just how fragile your hope had been.
The doctors stabilize you for now, but you wake to the sound of your mother's soft cries in the room. Her face is buried in your father's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Your father is holding her close, his eyes red and puffy, a grim expression etched on his face. Isaac stands nearby, his jaw clenched, trying to hold himself together.
You blink, the fluorescent lights above casting a harsh glow on the stark white walls. A doctor stands at the foot of your bed, looking somber. You catch bits and pieces of his words, the clinical detachment in his voice contrasting sharply with the raw emotion in the room.
"...best if she doesn’t return home... too weak... last days in the hospital..."
The full weight of the words crashes over you, and a sense of helplessness fills your heart. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a rasp. "Mom? Dad?"
Your mother's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and she rushes to your side, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We're here. We're right here."
Your father moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We won't leave your side," he promises, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes.
Isaac approaches the bed, his usual bravado stripped away. "Hey," he says softly, trying to muster a smile. "We’re all here for you."
You swallow hard, trying to process the reality of the situation. "How long?" you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper.
The doctor steps forward, his expression compassionate. "It’s hard to say for certain," he admits gently. "But we’ll do everything we can to keep you comfortable."
You nod, a mixture of fear and resignation settling over you. Your mother's sobs have quieted, but the sorrow in her eyes is unmistakable. "I’m so sorry," you whisper, feeling a pang of guilt for putting them through this.
"No, don’t apologize," your father says firmly, squeezing your shoulder. "This isn’t your fault. We’re just grateful to be here with you."
Your family’s presence brings a small measure of comfort, but the reality of your condition is a heavy burden. You look around at their faces, trying to memorize every detail, every expression. The room feels both claustrophobic and infinite, the moments stretching out like a fragile thread.
As the night wears on, you find solace in their presence. Your mother hums softly, stroking your hair, while your father reads to you from a book you loved as a child. Isaac sits by the window, watching the night sky, his expression pensive.
You know that the days ahead will be difficult, but for now, you take comfort in the love that surrounds you. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and beeping machines, becomes a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you can hold on to the precious moments with your family, no matter how fleeting they may be.
—
The sterile scent of the hospital room is overwhelming, the beeping of the machines a constant reminder of the deteriorating state of your health. The wires and tubes attached to your body are a constant presence, their weight both physical and symbolic. The medication dulls the pain, but it also leaves you in a fog, half-aware of the world around you.
Isaac sits by your bedside, his expression a mix of forced cheerfulness and hidden sorrow. He tries to make you laugh, telling stories and cracking jokes, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice.
You take a shaky breath and glance at Isaac. “So, this is it, huh?” you say with a dry laugh, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the sadness in your voice.
He looks at you, the forced cheerfulness slipping from his face. “Still laughing?” he asks, his voice quivering.
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want that to be the last expression you remember me by.”
Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Remember when you said that you weren’t able to be a proper older sister to me ever since you got diagnosed?” he asks softly. “That’s wrong. You still were because you powered through every moment of pain on your own. Even now, you’re as selfless as ever.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you swallow hard. “I got a taste of how it feels to be selfish recently,” you confess, your voice trembling. “To see what you want right there in front of you, waiting for you to take it, but I almost got too attached to it that fate had to rip it away from me again.”
“Are you talking about Lando?” Isaac asks gently, his eyes searching yours.
You nod, the memories of your brief time with Lando flooding back, a bittersweet ache in your chest. “Life is so cruel, so fickle,” you say, your voice barely audible. “When I finally accepted my fate, it flipped and gave me a chance to be happy, to fall in love, to live like I’ve never done before. When I experienced it all, it just made me greedy. I wanted to keep living like that. But I won’t be able to because in a moment, it’s taken away again.”
Isaac squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “You deserved every moment of happiness,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “And you brought happiness to those around you, too. Remember that.”
The days pass in a blur of medical checks, whispered conversations, and the quiet hum of machines. Your parents come and go, their faces lined with worry but always offering words of comfort and love.
Then comes Sunday, one that’s special for you because it’s also race day.
The hospital room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the television screen mounted on the wall. The muted hum of machines and the occasional beep provide a constant backdrop to your labored breathing. Your family surrounds you, their presence a source of comfort even as your strength wanes. The room is filled with an unspoken tension, a fragile hope that somehow, you might find the strength to hold on a little longer.
Earlier in the day, you had pleaded with the nurses to let you watch the race. “Please,” you whispered, your voice weak but determined. “I just want to see him race one last time.”
The nurses had exchanged glances, their expressions softening. “Alright,” one of them had said gently. “We’ll make sure you can watch it.”
Now, the vibrant colors of the Formula 1 race contrast sharply with the sterile white of the hospital room. Lando’s car, resplendent in its sleek orange design, zips around the track with an elegance and speed that seems almost otherworldly. The commentator’s voice crackles with excitement as they describe the race in vivid detail.
“And Lando Norris takes the lead! He’s showing incredible skill out there today, really pushing the limits of his car and his own abilities. The crowd is going wild!”
You try to focus on the race, on the laps ticking by, the thrill of each turn, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Your vision blurs, the lines between the real and the surreal beginning to merge. Every breath is a struggle, each one more labored than the last.
Your mother sits by your side, her hand gently stroking your hair, her eyes red-rimmed but determined to stay strong. Your father stands at the foot of the bed, his face etched with lines of worry and sorrow. Isaac holds your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, his eyes never leaving your face.
You gather your remaining strength, turning your head slightly to look at Isaac. “Can you give him a message for me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word a struggle.
Isaac leans closer, his face etched with concern and determination. “What do you want to say?” he asks gently, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to carry your words to Lando.
You pause, the weight of the moment settling over you. With great effort, you manage to form the words that have been in your heart. “Tell him… tell him that he made me believe in living life again. That he gave me something beautiful in my last days. And… and that I’ll always be cheering for him, even if I’m not there.”
Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”
On the television, Lando navigates the sharp turns of the track with precision and grace. The roar of the engines and the thrill of the race create a stark contrast to the quiet, somber atmosphere of your room. The commentator’s voice booms with excitement.
“Norris is extending his lead! This could be his race if he keeps up this pace. The team must be thrilled with his performance!”
On the Formula 1 track, the atmosphere is electric. Lando sits in his car, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can feel every vibration of the engine, every nuance of the track. The pit crew buzzes with activity, their movements synchronized and efficient. Over the radio, his engineer’s voice provides updates and encouragement.
“You’re doing great, Lando. Keep this up and the win is yours.”
Lando nods inside his helmet, his focus razor-sharp. The crowd’s cheers blend into a singular wave of energy that propels him forward. He pushes the car to its limits, every fiber of his being dedicated to the race.
Back in the hospital, your breathing becomes more labored, and your family’s concern deepens. Your mother’s voice breaks as she hums softly, a lullaby from your childhood. Isaac squeezes your hand, his own tears finally breaking free.
“I love you,” you whisper, the words a final, heartfelt goodbye.
“We love you too,” Isaac responds, his voice choked with emotion. “More than anything.”
On the track, Lando crosses the finish line, the checkered flag waving triumphantly. The crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause. The commentator’s voice is almost drowned out by the noise.
“Lando Norris wins the race! What an incredible performance!”
In the paddock, Lando is overwhelmed with joy, the culmination of his efforts and dedication. He pulls off his helmet, his face breaking into a wide smile as he celebrates with his team. He can’t wait to share the victory, to tell you about the race, to see the look of pride in your eyes.
You watch from the hospital room, as Lando stands on the podium, lifting the trophy high, a sense of accomplishment filling him. A smile graces your lips, noticing the pure joy on his face. Then, you close your eyes, the vision of Lando’s smile still fresh in your mind.
Time stands still. As the world fades around you, your family holds you close, their whispered goodbyes blending into a chorus of love and sorrow. The light in your eyes dims, and with one last, labored breath, you slip away into a place beyond suffering.
As soon as the machine flatlines, the piercing sound of the monitor cuts through the room, signaling the end. Your mother's cries shatter the silence, raw and heart-wrenching. She grips your hand with desperate strength, her knuckles turning white, as if her hold on you could somehow bring you back.
"No, no, please!" she sobs, her voice cracking with each word. Tears stream down her face, her body trembling with the force of her grief. She shakes you gently at first, then more insistently, refusing to accept the finality of it. "Wake up, please wake up!"
Your father stands by her side, his own face etched with anguish. He places a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer support, but his own tears betray his stoic exterior. Isaac, standing a little apart, is frozen in shock, his eyes wide and uncomprehending as he watches the scene unfold.
The room is filled with the oppressive weight of sorrow, the air heavy with the collective grief of your family. The nurses, having done all they could, step back to give your family space, their own expressions somber and respectful.
Your mother’s cries grow louder, a desperate plea to a reality that feels too cruel to be true. She holds your hand to her cheek, her tears wetting your skin as she rocks back and forth. "Please, don’t leave us," she whispers, her voice breaking. "We need you."
The doctor steps forward, his face grave, and gently places a hand on your mother’s arm. "I’m so sorry for your loss," he says quietly, his words sincere but powerless against the tidal wave of their grief.
The only reality that matters is the unbearable pain of losing you, and the impossible task of trying to say goodbye.
On the top step of the podium, Lando basks in the glow of victory, the thrill of the race still pulsing through him. But amidst the celebration, a nagging feeling tugs at him, a sense that something is missing. A bittersweet undercurrent flows through his triumph.
Unbeknownst to him, a message of love and gratitude is on its way, bridging the distance between the track and the hospital room, connecting two hearts in a moment that transcends time and space.
Suddenly, your phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the flatline beeping on the monitor. Each ring echoes through the room like a mournful dirge. Isaac’s hand hovers over the device, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitates to answer. But when the call comes again, he knows there’s no escaping the inevitable.
With trembling fingers, he accepts the call, the voice on the other end sending a shiver down his spine. “Were you watching the race? I told you that you are my lucky charm.”
Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes welling with tears at the bitter irony of Lando’s words. He struggles to find the strength to respond, his voice choked with emotion. “Lando… it’s Isaac.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a tremor of uncertainty in Lando’s voice. “Isaac? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
Isaac’s heart clenches at the desperation in Lando’s voice, his own grief threatening to consume him. “She’s gone, Lando,” he manages to choke out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “My sister… she’s gone.”
The words hang heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the cruel twist of fate that has robbed them of their happiness. Lando’s breath hitches, his voice barely a whisper as he responds. “No… no, that can’t be true. Tell me you’re lying, tell me this is some sick joke please”
Isaac’s heart aches as he hears the disbelief and anguish in Lando’s voice. He wishes he could erase the truth, to shield Lando from the devastating reality they now face. But there’s no escaping it, no denying the painful truth that hangs between them like a heavy shroud.
“I wish I could, Lando,” Isaac murmurs, his own voice choked with sorrow. “I wish this was just a sick joke, but… but she’s really gone.”
There’s a long, agonizing pause, broken only by the sound of Lando’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. Isaac can imagine the turmoil raging within him, the crushing weight of grief threatening to overwhelm him entirely. He relays the message that you had for him, only hearing Lando breathing heavily in response.
As Lando stands there, clutching the phone that brought him devastating news, the world around him seems to blur into a haze of incomprehensible grief. The congratulations from his fellow drivers fall on deaf ears, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from a far-off place. Daniel, Carlos, George—all of them offer their heartfelt congratulations, their smiles genuine, but Lando can't bring himself to respond.
He feels disconnected, as if he's merely a spectator watching his own life unfold from a distance. The cameras flash around him, capturing the jubilant celebrations of victory, but Lando feels nothing but a hollow emptiness gnawing at his soul.
Unable to bear the facade any longer, Lando excuses himself from the crowd, retreating to the sanctuary of his driver's room. Once alone, the weight of his grief crashes over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths.
With a gut-wrenching scream, Lando releases the pent-up anguish that has been building inside him since the moment he received that fateful call. He falls to his knees, his body racked with sobs as he grapples with the cruel twist of fate that has torn his world apart.
In that moment of agonizing despair, Lando feels utterly alone, lost in a sea of grief with no shore in sight. The victory he had worked so hard for feels meaningless now, a hollow triumph overshadowed by the devastating loss of someone he held dear.
As the echoes of his cries fade into the silence of the empty room, Lando finds himself consumed by a profound sense of despair. In the midst of his greatest triumph, he is confronted with the harsh reality of mortality, and it is a bitter pill to swallow.
Alone in his hotel room, Lando’s victory feels hollow amidst the empty silence that surrounds him. Instead of celebrating with the fanfare of music, alcohol, and camaraderie that would be expected after such a result, he finds himself throwing his belongings haphazardly into his suitcase, his movements mechanical and devoid of purpose.
The room feels suffocating, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a physical force. With a sense of urgency, Lando hastily gathers his things, his hands trembling as he zips up his suitcase.
As he exits the hotel, he fires off a text to his manager, explaining the situation briefly, typing through his clouded vision full of more unshed tears.
Lando chooses not to drive, the mere thought of operating a vehicle feeling like an insurmountable task. Instead, he hails a taxi, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the gaping void left in your absence.
The taxi driver casts him a curious glance as he climbs into the backseat, his tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the typical fare. But Lando pays no mind to the stares, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming grief that threatens to consume him.
Throughout the journey to the airport, Lando’s tears continue to flow unabated, his heart weighed down by the magnitude of his loss. He feels adrift, lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions.
Lando finds himself grappling with conflicting emotions as he boards the plane back to the town filled with memories of you. Despite the overwhelming pain of revisiting every corner suffused with reminders of your presence, he knows deep down that he cannot stay away.
The thought of pretending that everything is fine when it's not feels like a betrayal of the love you shared, a denial of the profound impact you had on his life. And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by grief, Lando embarks on the journey back to the place where his heart still lingers, knowing that he must confront the pain head-on in order to find a semblance of peace.
Lando’s return to town is marked by exhaustion and dishevelment, the toll of a sleepless night evident in the shadows beneath his eyes and the weariness etched into his features. He barely manages to greet Isaac before retreating to the solitude of the lighthouse, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of its quiet sanctuary.
As Lando stands at the top of the lighthouse, his gaze fixed on the horizon, he can't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washes over him. The flickering beam of the lighthouse casts eerie shadows against the walls, the only sound the mournful cry of seagulls in the distance. It's as if he's been transported back in time, to a moment frozen in history, when tragedy and loss hung heavy in the air.
Tears stream down his cheeks, his sobs echoing in the empty space around him as he allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotion.
In the stillness of the lighthouse, Lando is consumed by a sense of profound loss, his heart aching with the absence of the one he longs for. He sits there for hours, his thoughts consumed by memories of you, his soul yearning for the warmth of your presence.
In the dim light, Lando recalls the story you once shared with him, of the tragic love that had unfolded within these very walls decades ago. A woman, waiting faithfully for her lover's return, had spent countless nights standing vigil at the top of the lighthouse, her heart filled with hope and longing. But as the years passed and her lover failed to return, her hope turned to despair, her love transformed into bitter regret.
Now, as Lando stands in the same spot, he can't help but draw parallels between that long-ago tragedy and his own situation. Like the woman of the story, he finds himself clinging to a glimmer of hope, praying for a miracle that may never come. In his heart, he still holds onto the belief that you'll come back to him, that the news of your loss is just a bad dream from which he'll soon awaken.
With each passing moment, however, the harsh reality of your absence becomes more pronounced, the weight of grief bearing down on him like a leaden cloak. Yet, despite the pain that threatens to consume him, Lando refuses to give up hope. He remains steadfast in his vigil, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of your return, his heart yearning for the moment when he'll finally see you again.
His gaze sweeps over every corner of the lighthouse, wanting to etch every detail into his memory. The soft glow of the fading sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm golden hue over the space. He takes a deep breath, trying to imprint the scent of saltwater and sea breeze into his mind.
As he moves around, his eyes fall upon a small alcove tucked away in a corner, hidden from plain sight. Something tugs at his instincts, urging him to investigate further. With cautious curiosity, he steps closer, his heart pounding in anticipation.
Reaching into the alcove, his fingers brush against something smooth and delicate. He pulls out a folded piece of paper, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes what it is. With trembling hands, he unfolds the note, his eyes scanning the words written in your handwriting.
Lando, I hope this note finds its way to you. It's strange how emotions can turn even the fearless into cowards. I couldn't bring myself to give you this letter in person, so I'm leaving it here, hoping it reaches you. I'm guessing you already know the truth, and that I'm no longer here by your side.
As he reads those words, he can hear your voice in his mind. The acknowledgment that you couldn't face him in person fills him with a mix of sadness and understanding. He feels a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to make you feel more comfortable sharing your feelings with him.
I don’t think a mere ‘I’m sorry’ is enough for keeping the truth from you. The reason why I did is because every moment with you felt like a dream, and in my dreams, my illness never existed. I’ve always cursed fate for the shitty hand it dealt me but I never would’ve gotten a chance to live something close to the perfect life if it wasn’t for fate.
A melancholic smile tugs at his lips as he reflects on the sentiment expressed in your words. Each moment spent with you had indeed felt like a dream, a precious respite from the relentless demands of the racing world.
Before you came to town, I felt like a living corpse, waiting for my illness to take me under, but when I met you, it gave me a purpose to look forward to the next day. Being your tour guide, although I think it was because you just wanted to spend time with me, was probably the most I’ve lived ever since I was diagnosed. While I used your presence as an excuse to live like I used to, I didn’t ever imagine falling in love with anyone, much less a British racing driver.
A wave of emotions wash over him as he reads your heartfelt confession, his own heart aching with a mixture of sadness and longing. Tears blur his vision as he continues reading, slightly tracing over your words with his finger.
I wish I had the courage to say this to you face to face, to witness your reaction and perhaps hear you say the words back. But one thing I admire about you is your ability to live in the moment. So, in this moment, I want to tell you that I love you, Lando Norris, even though I'm no longer by your side. I hope our memories bring a smile to your face, just as they did to mine.
Please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the reason I found joy again, laughter again. Lando, you brought me back to life. Thank you. I'll love you always.
- Your favourite tour guide
As he reaches the final words of the note, he clutches it to his chest, feeling your presence close to him. In that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, Lando finds a fleeting sense of peace amidst the storm of his emotions. He knows that no matter what the future holds, your love will always remain a guiding light in his heart.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, he whispers a silent promise to you, his beloved tour guide, into the salty breeze surrounding your favourite place. “I’ll never forget you. I’ll carry your love with me, always.”
Then he adds with a sob wracking through his body, “I love you too.”
As he sits in the lighthouse, Lando no longer waits for your return. Yet, he feels your love enveloping him, every word of the note etched into his heart. Though you may be gone, your presence lingers, filling the space around him with warmth and tenderness. In that moment, he finds solace in the memories of your love, knowing that you'll always be with him, no matter where life takes him.
Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r @mattymybeloved @saturnbloom77 @ltotheucyy @ironmaiden1313
#thef1diary fic#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris angst#lando norris fluff#f1 angst#f1 fluff#f1 imagines#f1 series#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#angst#fanfic
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ꨄ
pairing student athlete! sim jaeyun x fem reader genre fluff , scenarios , established warnings angst if u really squint
? dating your #1 soccer fanatic bf
― soccer bf! jake who fell in love the moment he saw you at his first away game, even if you were from the opposing school.
― soccer bf! jake who asked you out right after the match instead of going back to the bus with his team (they almost drove off without him).
“excuse me!” you’re chatting with your friend when someone suddenly taps on your shoulder, prompting you to look back. it was a boy, taller than you (and extremely attractive), wearing the opposite team’s jersey, bent over and stabilizing himself on his knees while catching his breath. you looked to your friend for help, but she’d already left you two alone.
“are you… okay?” you ask uncertainly. he suddenly stood upright and held out his hand, carrying an open phone.
“hi,” he starts off, “i saw you during the game and thought that you were really pretty. i mean, you are pretty. ‘pretty sure everyone knows that-“ he rambles on, no sign of stopping any soon. you grin and take a closer look at his face.
he’s cute. as in really cute. his lips looked really soft and complimented the smile on his face. his hair stuck onto his face by the sweat he poured out during the match. everything about him screamed ‘ideal’ despite having met only once.
his eyes, however, were the ones that pulled you in the most. the way they shined when you made eye contact reminded you of a puppy- the way their eyes also light up whenever you mention their favourite items. you didn’t even know how captivated you were by his features until he taps your shoulder again, crouching down to meet your gaze.
he smiles. “so, would you like to exchange numbers, by any chance?”
― soccer bf! jake who asks you to be his girlfriend after he wins soccer championships. embracing you in his arms and having to yell out the awaited question through the crowd’s cheers.
― soccer bf! jake who gets in trouble by his coach for ‘losing’ his jerseys, when in reality he purposefully leaves them in your room so you can be reminded of him everyday. and so he can ask you for photos of you in his uniform whenever.
― soccer bf! jake who thinks it’s funny if you wear his team’s jersey during your school’s home games, even if your classmates start looking at you. “they should know who you’re really here for. plus, sim doesn’t look too bad on you, it looks great.”
― soccer bf! jake who sends you his practice clips any chance he can get. the videos always ending in a cheesy pick up line and camera kiss that never fail to fluster you. infact, making your feelings for him grow even more.
― soccer bf! jake who immediately goes to you whenever he isn’t his best in a game or training sessions, choosing to stay in the comfort of your arms instead of going home to his bed alone.
― soccer bf! jake who falls asleep on you with his arms around your waist, securing you within his reach and making sure you can’t leave him. so, when you need to use the bathroom at night, you quite literally have to use all your strength to leave his grip.
― soccer bf! jake who wears a bracelet with your initials every second of the day. never once taking it off, and kissing it before he leaves the house every morning.
― soccer bf! jake who buys you a promise ring with his allowance, promising to get a ‘better’ one when he gets successful enough to buy you anything you want. whereas you have to assure him that you’re going to love him the same no matter what he gives you.
because as long as you’re together, you’re the happiest girl in the world.
NOTE ✃ : my first jake post 💞 i love you sim jaeyun
#wonyrs ✓#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enhypen fluff#female reader#enhypen imagines#jake sim x reader#sim jake x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jaeyun imagines#sim jaeyun fluff#sim jake#sim jake fluff#sim jake imagines#jake x reader#jake fluff#jake angst#enhypen angst#enha angst#kpop imagines#enhypen jake#enhypen jake x reader#enha jake x reader#enha jaeyun x reader#kpop fluff#kpop angst#kpop x reader#enhypen smau
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
How They React to Your Death Part 2
I am back with more Genshin angst. Somehow, I feel like this part isn't as sad as the previous one, but it might just be author's bias.
Part 1 can be found here.
Characters: Gorou, Baizhu, Zhongli, Diluc, and Tighnari
WARNING:
Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details
🐕 Gorou
Gorou had always harbored reservations about your participation on the battlefield. He had taught you how to fight upon your request and having fought many battles side-by-side, Gorou knew you were a capable fighter. But despite this, a part of him always worried about your safety. He couldn’t help it; he loved you too much to risk losing you.
He tried to keep you safe by suggesting you stay behind in Watatsumi and help Kokomi with strategizing, but this resulted in arguments between you. His ears flattened and his tail sagged like a scolded dog’s when you said you wanted to protect Watatsumi and its people since they were your home. Plus, you didn’t want to stay behind and anxiously wait for news from him just to know if he was still alive. Gorou had no comebacks to your points and could only sigh in resignation and apologize.
When the Watatsumi troops joined another battle against the Shogunate’s forces, Gorou trusted you to handle yourself. He had to believe you could because he couldn’t always protect you amid the chaotic battlefield. However, he forgot that there was more than just your life he needed to worry about. His own was at equal risk.
While fending off several opponents, Gorou didn’t notice an enemy sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Turning around, Gorou found himself with no time to react as the Shogunate soldier thrust his spear forward, prepared to impale the Watatsumi General through the chest. Gorou heard you shout his name, and then suddenly you appeared in front of him, intercepting the lethal blow. The strained little gasp of pain you let out as the weapon tore into your flesh ingrained itself into Gorou’s memory. He remained frozen in place, eyes wide with horror and disbelief as he watched you collapse to the ground.
Unfortunately, the enemy soldier gave him no time to come to your aid. Having retracted his spear, he aimed it once more at Gorou. Seized by panic, Gorou made quick work of the Shogunate scum before falling to his knees beside your figure.
The wound in your chest looked deep, as evident by the copious amounts of blood that seeped out from under your armor. He knew the situation was bad and that you might not even make it, but he tried to reassure you that he’d get you to a medic and you’d be fine. Despite his attempt to stay calm, internally he was panicking. Your eyes already looked unfocused, as if you couldn’t perceive the world around you. Gorou tore off the fabric of his pants and tried to bandage your wound to stave off the bleeding, but paused when you reached a hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers were icy cold.
“Go…rou,” you croaked, your voice almost inaudible over the sounds of screaming and clashing metal of the ongoing war. Then, your hand fell away from his face, and you went still, your gaze hollow. Gorou called your name in a wavering voice. He repeated it several times and grasped onto your shoulders, begging you to respond to him, to please give him a sign that you were still with him.
You remained unresponsive.
Despair squeezed his heart like a suffocating vice, but he could not spare time to grieve for your passing. The battle was not over, and the Shogunate soldiers closed in on him once more. Reluctantly, he left your body where it was, and buried his anguish beneath a layer of anger and a desire for revenge.
That day, Gorou felled more enemies than he’d ever defeated in previous battles. He was ferocious, almost beastly in the way he slayed his opponents with a bow, teeth, and claws. It was a rookie mistake to let his anger blind him in his quest for vengeance, but Gorou couldn’t control the urge. He could either be a slave to his anger or let his sadness consume him to the point where he had no fight left in him. So, he fought.
Despite the losses Watatsumi suffered during the fight, Gorou’s army managed to win and push back the Shogunate forces. Once the fighting was over and the injured were rushed back to camp, Gorou made his way back to where your body lay in the blood-soaked ground amid the victorious cheers of his remaining men.
He knelt beside you and hugged your cold and stiff corpse in his arms tightly. He didn’t say a word, only closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his shoulders shook in an attempt not to cry. There was a familiar stinging in his nose, and his vision blurred, but he refrained from crying. He couldn’t return to his men while looking like a weeping mess, because seeing their ever-confident and reliable General crying would shatter the soaring morale of their victory. But if anyone happened to look in Gorou’s direction, they’d see his hunched-over figure cradling you to his chest, while his ears drooped and his shoulders shook.
The days that followed were a blur. Gorou’s army returned to Watatsumi to recuperate and brief Kokomi on the results of the battle. Gorou was heralded as a hero for the fierce way he fought and brought victory for their cause, but the Watatsumi General couldn’t bring himself to feel happy. He tried to put on a smile and congratulate his men for helping to win the battle, made speeches to keep morale up, and oversaw the training of future soldiers. Life kept him busy, but there was a distinct hollowness to it now that you were gone. Before, he would take breaks from training to eat lunch or dinner with you, take walks by the beautiful beaches of Watatsumi, or hide away in your shared home and let you brush his tail much to his delight. Now… there was only an empty void.
When night fell and Gorou found himself lying alone in bed, he would surround himself with articles of your clothing that still carried your scent, and cry. When there was no one to see him fall apart, he would break down and cry hard while whimpering your name until sleep claimed him.
These crying fits only stopped when Kokomi approached him one day. She still looked composed and refined as always, but Gorou could see the sadness in her eyes that had become more prominent ever since she learned about your death. You were her dear friend, after all, and it pained her to lose you. She handed him a letter and explained that it was something you wanted her to give to Gorou in the event you perished in battle.
When Gorou fished out the letter and read the first few sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. The way you wrote to him was as if you were right there, speaking directly to him. He could almost hear your voice as you apologized for leaving him so early, but you were always prepared to give your life to him, Kokomi, and all of Watatsumi because you loved them so much. You told him to not let his grief consume him because you wanted him to enjoy the life you fought so hard to protect. Above all, you would be happiest if Watatsumi remained safe under his and Kokomi’s guidance.
It took Gorou several tries to read the letter since the tears blurred his vision, but once he calmed down, he found that the anguish in his heart lessened, if only a little. It would be a long road to come to terms with your death and not being able to enjoy life with you anymore, but for your sake, he will try. And maybe one day, once his own time comes, Gorou will tell you all about how Watatsumi overcame the war with the Shogunate and flourished in the following years, just as you hoped.
🐍 Baizhu
Baizhu is Liyue’s best doctor. He boasted a hefty record of healing patients with even the most obscure and difficult-to-treat illnesses, giving hope to the sick that they still had a chance to lead normal and healthy lives. But for all his amazing healing abilities, there were illnesses that even Baizhu could not cure. The day you died served as a stark reminder of his limitations.
You’ve been ill with a rare and mysterious illness ever since you were little. You had difficulties breathing, often coming down with severe coughs, and your body was weaker than normal, so you couldn’t participate in physical activities with other children. When the illness got particularly bad, you were left bedridden due to how weakened it made you. Worst of all, no cure for it existed. No matter how many doctors looked at you, nobody could figure out what caused your illness.
When you grew up, your condition worsened, but you had a shred of hope. Your parents heard about the amazing healing abilities of a doctor in Liyue, and your family traveled all the way to the Harbor in the hopes that Baizhu could cure you. To his chagrin and your disappointment, he could not. Even Changsheng’s powers couldn’t transfer your illness to him. Whatever disease you possessed was a result of your genetic composition, which made it all the more difficult to treat. The best he could do was concoct a medicine that staved off your symptoms, but it was by no means a cure.
Since then, you frequently came to Bubu Pharmacy to get medicine. Against all odds, you had become close to the doctor during your many visits and eventually became his lover.
Baizhu did all he could to search for a cure, not only because you were his patient, but also because he genuinely loved you and didn’t want to watch you suffer. However, despite the many late nights he spent researching and mixing various medicines, nothing helped you long-term. The best he could do was curb your symptoms for a time before you became resistant to the medicine and felt worse again.
The more time passed, the worse your body deteriorated. At first, you struggled to do any strenuous activities, so you resigned yourself to walking and not lifting anything heavy. Then walking became difficult, so Baizhu took the time to come visit you at home and give you new medicines to try in the hopes of getting you back on your feet. You would always smile and thank him, saying that he was better off focusing on his other patients, but Baizhu hated it when you said that. It sounded like you had given up on getting better. Even if you doubted you would live for very long, he promised he would find a way to cure you.
The doctor genuinely believed he could help you. It is a doctor’s job to heal the sick and save lives. No matter how impossible the task seemed, he believed there was a cure for your illness somewhere out there, it just needed to be discovered. But before he knew it, your condition got worse to the point that you coughed up blood and became bedridden, barely able to lift a spoon to feed yourself.
Baizhu experienced a rare panic, and spent all of his free time at your bedside, tending to you and giving you various medicines in the hopes of finding something that stuck. As the days passed and you continued to worsen, Baizhu still refused to give up. You had to get better eventually. You had to. Even as your breathing became weak and you could barely hold your eyes open or speak due to your feeble state, Baizhu refused to face the reality of your impending death.
Utilizing all the medicinal supplies and his knowledge, Baizhu continued to try and treat you. When that didn’t work, he tried to split the burden of your suffering by transferring some of the illness to himself using Changsheng. He would not—could not—give up. Even when your hand went limp in his, even when your breathing stilled and your pulse flatlined, even when Changsheng pleaded with him to stop, Baizhu didn’t pause in his desperate attempts to get you to open your eyes and smile at him again. Not until all his medical supplies were depleted and your body had grown cold.
He still refused to accept your death and his failure. If traditional medicine and Changsheng can’t help, what if a higher power intervened? What if you became a living corpse like Qiqi? Perhaps with the blessing of an adeptus, you could be brought back to life and continue to live together with him like before.
Hearing his deluded mumbling, Changsheng had to snap Baizhu out of his spiraling thoughts by reminding him that Qiqi’s case was special because she was still alive when she was granted an adeptus’s blessing. Her words cut him like a knife, for as much as Baizhu didn’t want to lose even this little shred of hope, he knew Changsheng was right. There truly is nothing that could bring you back.
At that point, Baizhu had to face reality. You were gone. Your illness ended up claiming your life despite his efforts.
That night was a rare time when Changsheng saw Baizhu weep. The doctor silently cried as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, and apologized over and over for being unable to save you. He failed you both as a doctor and as your beloved, and the guilt ate him up inside.
Despite how firmly Baizhu believed that he could save everyone in need of his aid, deep down he knew it was improbable. Some injuries and illnesses were beyond saving. But out of all the people he couldn’t save, why did one of them have to be you?
Ever since the night of your passing, Baizhu slept poorly, plagued by guilt and self-loathing for not being the perfect doctor. The one person he wanted to save most, to spend the rest of his life with, was gone all because he wasn’t skilled enough.
Back when you were alive, he promised to create the elixir of immortality and get you to be the first to try it. He dreamed about a happy future where you, Changsheng, himself, and everyone else could all lead happy, healthy lives. But he was too late, and that promise was left broken, just like his promise to marry you one day.
Despite the tragedy, Baizhu tried to move on. His patients needed him. There were still so many lives he needed to save, so he couldn’t give up now. He tried to smile through the pain and work as usual, but even Qiqi could see how sad his smiles were. He is filled with longing whenever he thinks of you, as well as the ever-present guilt that never faded no matter how many years passed. Despite how painful it was for Baizhu to remember you, he held those memories dear to his heart. As short as your relationship had been, it was a truly special connection he knew he would never have with anyone else.
In the distant future, Baizhu will dedicate years of his life to researching your illness and developing a cure. Though the medicine won’t bring you back to him, he finds a bit of solace in knowing that no one else will have to lose their loved one to the disease the way he did.
🔶 Zhongli
Zhongli always knew you would die before him. You were a human, after all. Your lifespan was but a blink of an eye for his 6000-year-old existence.
When you expressed a desire to be in a long-term romantic relationship with him, Zhongli made it very clear that he was an ancient supernatural being who had lived thousands of years, and would live thousands more even after you die because his lifespan was unlike yours. He wondered if this would discourage you from pursuing him, but it did not. After carefully weighing the facts, you remained steadfast in your resolve to build a future with him, and he couldn’t help but admire your determination.
The decades you spent together were some of the happiest Zhongli ever had. You gifted him new memories and experiences of the simple, relaxed life he always wanted ever since he stepped down from his position as Liyue’s Archon. Drinking tea at the teahouse while chatting about his extensive knowledge on various topics, participating in festivals, hosting small gatherings to meet his adepti friends, and getting married were just some of the things you did together. Life was peaceful yet eventful, and Zhongli felt a sense of fulfillment from it. Being able to enjoy the fruits of his thousands of years’ worth of labor felt rewarding, and doubly so since he got to enjoy it with someone he loved.
As the years passed by, Zhongli noticed how your skin gradually developed wrinkles, and your hair gained new white strands. He knew you were getting older, while he still retained that ever-youthful appearance of a handsome young man. To avoid suspicion from the public, but most of all, to appease any insecurity you might have about growing old, Zhongli manipulated his appearance to age together with you. Each year, he added more wrinkles to his skin and grayness to his hair to match the speed of your own aging.
You were surprised when you first noticed these changes, but Zhongli could tell you appreciated his efforts. You had appeared downtrodden about growing older, while he still looked the same as the day you first met him. Now, you seemed more at ease, though he could still catch glimpses of sadness in your eyes. After all, the fact he had to manually age his appearance was a constant reminder that he was not human and that you would have to leave him one day.
As you grew older still and your body developed aches and pains that usually came with old age, Zhongli helped you through the difficulties. He did the more strenuous work around the house, supported you during walks, helped you read text you could no longer see clearly, and fetched your medicine from Bubu Pharmacy to keep your ailments at bay.
Despite the differences that came with you growing old, Zhongli never loved you any less. Everything about him was as constant as the bedrock of Liyue itself, and his love for you never wavered. Even when your beautiful, youthful looks faded, and he had to take care of your frail body, he still loved you just as much as when you first became a couple, if not more. He loved the person you were on the inside more than what you looked like on the outside, and in his eyes, your beauty never faded.
However, it still pained Zhongli to see your lovely hair grow white, and your body weak. It meant that death would come for you soon, and you would have to part ways. He knew it was inevitable, but a part of him silently pleaded ‘Not yet. Don’t go just yet, please stay a little longer.’
As you reached your late 80s, your health grew worse to the point you spent most of your time at home. Both you and Zhongli could tell that your time would come any day now, but you said that you were prepared. You got to live a long, happy life and had no major regrets, so death didn’t scare you. Rather, you have grown to accept it.
Zhongli would stay up late at night in bed with you to watch your sleeping face, trying to ingrain the memory of your features and of being together into his mind, because he knew each night might be the last.
One night, Zhongli woke up to the sensation of your life force growing faint, until it completely disappeared. He didn’t need to check your pulse to know you had passed away since he felt it. Your spirit was gone. His heart sank at the realization that this was it. He would no longer get to hear your voice, see your reactions to his stories and affections, or make new memories with you.
Zhongli had lost countless friends and companions throughout the Archon War. He was used to death and saying goodbye, but each time was no easier than the last. The weight of loss settled heavily on him because, despite the years he spent mentally and emotionally preparing for your death, it was still difficult to sit there beside your lifeless body and accept the fact you were gone. There were still so many things he wanted to experience with you. It was truly unfortunate that your human lifespan was so painfully short.
Zhongli took your limp hand in his and held it for a while as his mind went through your shared memories together. In his memories, you were vibrant and lively, the opposite of how lifeless you appeared now. With the part of you he loved most gone, all that remained was a body of flesh that appeared almost like a stranger. It made him miss you, but also helped in coming to terms with your passing.
He mourned for you throughout the night, up until the sun rose above the horizon.
Zhongli took part in arranging your funeral. He carefully supervised every step of the process to ensure your funeral was perfect, and that you were given the proper respect in your journey to the afterlife. Once you were laid to rest, he found himself wandering around aimlessly most days. He walked along the same paths the two of you used to take strolls on, visited your favorite locations in Liyue Harbor, and frequently brought your favorite food as an offering to your grave.
At the teahouse, Zhongli sat at the same table where you always had your dates and stared at the empty seat where you used to sit. He could picture with perfect clarity how you used to sit in that same chair and give him your undivided attention when he recounted tales of times past, and he always loved it when you did. Now, he could only stare off into the distance while reminiscing about the good times he shared with you. Though Zhongli was saddened he couldn’t make more memories with you, the ones he did have made him grateful that you had been a part of his life.
🦉 Diluc
Diluc met you shortly after you arrived in Mondstadt with nothing but a satchel of mora and the clothes on your back. You said you came to the nation of freedom in the hopes of starting a new life but never disclosed any details about your past. Though he was curious about the life you led prior, Diluc learned to let it go. After all, Mondstadt was home to many people with mysterious backgrounds and origins, so what’s one more?
During the months you spent together, you had both fallen in love with each other and began a courtship. Diluc knew with certainty that he wanted to marry you, so one fateful night, he got down on one knee before you and presented a golden ring topped with a piece of garnet. You said yes, and Diluc felt the happiest that night than he had in a long time, not since his father’s passing several years ago. Now, he was looking forward to having a family again.
After Diluc lost his father, Adelinde and Elzer were saddened by the drastic change in their Young Master. Diluc used to be so optimistic and passionate, brimming with the desire to become a knight and help people. After Crepus’s death, he had become closed off and aloof, becoming bitter at the corruption running rampant within the Knights of Favonius. However, with your arrival at the estate, Diluc seemed to slowly warm up and smile more, and the senior servants couldn’t be happier by the positive change. They hoped that your union would heal their Master’s wounded heart.
Initially, Diluc didn’t plan to host an engagement party, but his butler Elzer convinced him to go through with the Ragnvindr family tradition. With your agreement, Diluc hosted a ball and invited prominent figures in the business world to attend, most of whom he worked with. During the party, he introduced you to his business partners, making idle chatter and receiving congratulations on your engagement. Everything seemed to be going well, albeit a tad boring, until the two of you were approached by an unfamiliar man in a lavish suit.
The man said he was an acquaintance of yours, and sure enough, you seemed to recognize him. However, the way your posture stiffened, and the color drained from your face set Diluc on edge. He wanted to reject the man’s request to speak with you in private, but you interjected and agreed. Diluc didn’t want to leave you alone with someone who made you uncomfortable, but the pointed look you gave him made Diluc hold back his protests. With great reluctance, he let you go.
He was anxious the entire time you were gone, unable to fully focus on the business conversations and propositions he was discussing with some of the guests. To his great relief, you returned safe and sound, albeit with a troubled expression on your face. Diluc made a mental note to ask you about what happened once the ball ended.
The man you spoke with didn’t reappear that night, and the party came to a successful close after plenty of eating, drinking, and dancing.
Later that night, you fell sick. You were vomiting and sweating quite a bit, and at first, Diluc thought you had food poisoning. However, when he noticed you were vomiting blood, panic surged through him. You were poisoned.
He called his servants and asked them to fetch a medic, but your condition continued to deteriorate quickly. In mere minutes, you were unable to stay standing and were gasping for breath, so Diluc laid you down on the bed. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you apologized to him, as if you knew you were going to die and why. As if someone intentionally poisoned you.
Diluc tried asking for more information, but by that point, you could barely breathe, much less get a word out. All you did was futilely gasp for air while gazing at him with eyes full of remorse and fear.
Diluc didn’t want to think about the possibility of you dying because the mere thought opened old wounds that never fully healed. But as he watched you slowly suffocate; it triggered a surge of fear in him. This scenario felt so familiar. It reminded him of how Crepus died. Due to the Fatui’s schemes, his father had disintegrated into nothing in his arms, leaving him and Kaeya alone to pick up the pieces.
He couldn’t do anything to save his father then, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t do anything for you now, except sit there in fear and despair. Diluc gently took your hand in his, both for your comfort and his, and you clung to his hands like a vice.
Despite Diluc’s empty reassurances that you’ll be alright, that the medic is on his way, you had passed away in front of his eyes with a pained expression on your face. The sight of your last moments made his stomach churn.
As he sat beside your body in the dark room shrouded by night, his thoughts shifted to the reason behind your death. You were poisoned, but why? Did someone do it to try and get to him? He did have many enemies, after all. Then, he remembered the suspicious man that had terrified you so much and couldn’t help but think the secret lay with him. Whatever the case, Diluc swore to get down to the truth of the matter.
He gently removed the engagement ring from your finger and hung it on a chain around his neck to always keep with him as a memento. A reminder of the future he was robbed of with you, and of your life which was taken far too early and cruelly.
News of your poisoning spread to the Knights of Favonius. Jean organized an investigation team to catch the culprit and bring them to justice, but Diluc knew it would take them too long. Even after the Knights had improved their ethics with Varka, Jean, and Kaeya at the helm, Diluc was still reluctant to leave everything to them. He insisted on investigating the matter himself.
After many weeks of searching for clues, and even partnering up with Kaeya, Diluc managed to find the truth behind your murder. It infuriated him.
You were once a Fatuus but had defected from the organization and ran away to Mondstadt to start a new life. You wanted a life where you were free to live the way you wanted, instead of being forced to commit atrocities in the name of the Tsaritsa. But nobody leaves the Fatui alive. Your superiors had found you and sent a Fatuus to infiltrate the ball. After you resisted their attempts to coerce you to return, sometime during the party they spiked your drinking glass with poison, which was how you perished. You were killed for wanting to live your life for yourself.
The injustice behind your death pushed Diluc on a quest for revenge. He swore upon the ring hanging from his neck that your murderers would atone for what they did. After delegating the running of the Winery to Elzer, Diluc packed necessities and embarked on a Fatui hunt.
Over the next few months, he diligently searched and hunted down every member of the Fatui squad that killed you. He refused to take breaks, searching day and night for the exact location of the perpetrators and planning his revenge. He had tunnel vision that wouldn’t go away until his mission was completed. Diluc successfully slayed every Fatuus involved in your death. None were spared.
Once his mission ended, Diluc returned to Mondstadt, but he became colder than before, much to Adelinde and Elzer’s dismay. He was more stoic and aloof than before, rarely smiling or expressing any emotion. He completely closed himself off, not allowing anyone to get close. Diluc had lost too many people he loved and didn’t want to grow attached and experience another potential loss.
Sometimes, Adelinde would catch him sitting idly by a window and staring outside with a pensive, almost sad expression while twirling the ring around his neck. Elzer would spot Diluc standing by your and Crepus’s graves in the light of dawn, presumably after returning from another patrol around the city. Diluc would stand there for a while with his head lowered, looking so lonely and defeated, before heading inside the manor.
Diluc would never find someone new to love, of that he was certain. He will continue to wear the engagement ring around his neck up until the day he dies, and when he does, he hopes he will be buried alongside you and his father. If he cannot be with those he loves in life, then maybe he can be with them in death. Until then, he will push on and continue to live, blazing a path of justice to protect the citizens of Mondstadt so that no more victims end up like you and his father.
🍄 Tighnari
When a mother reported her child had gone missing within a withering zone in the Avidya Forest, Tighnari immediately dispatched a search and rescue team.
As a fellow forest ranger, you wanted to come along to help look for the child. Tighnari knew you were fairly capable of handling yourself despite not having a vision, but just to be safe, he paired you up with Collei. After all, it was already dark, and who knew what dangers lurked within the afflicted forest.
Right before you and Collei set out to search your assigned part of the forest, Tighnari told you both to stay safe and vigilant. Never did he think the reassuring smile you gave would be the last time he would see you alive.
He managed to find the missing boy before the withering got to him, and escorted the child back to camp for a checkup. As time passed, the other rangers returned, but you and Collei were nowhere in sight. Just as Tighnari was starting to get worried, Collei rushed over to him, out of breath.
In a panic, she explained that your pair had run into a hilichurl camp within the withering zone, and were chased by hilichurls through the forest. She got separated from you in the dark, and wasn’t able to find you again despite searching for a while.
Tighnari fought to stay calm as he rushed towards the location of the withering zone, and stopped when he saw your figure collapsed on the ground just outside the boundary. His heart dropped at the sight, and he quickly knelt beside you to check your vitals.
You had no pulse.
Tighnari felt like he was dreaming, as if he was watching someone else kneeling beside your body. That this wasn’t real. But as he looked at your glazed eyes which stared off into the distance, never once looking at him, reality set in.
You were dead.
Once he accepted that fact, Tighnari’s heart felt heavy, as if weighed down by an anchor.
You had tried to find your way back to camp, but having spent too much time in the withering zone, and not being a vision holder, you had inevitably succumbed to its effects just as you had gotten out of the zone. A pang of guilt welled within his chest. If he had paired up with you instead, or assigned you a different area to search through, would you have made it out alive? These thoughts looped in his mind and wouldn’t leave Tighnari alone.
When he returned to camp a while later, the rest of the Forest Rangers saw him carrying your body with a grim expression on his face. The fact Tighnari wasn’t asking for immediate medical assistance, and the way his ears drooped low, were all the rest of the Rangers needed to know you had died.
The guilt persisted like a phantom all throughout your funeral, and the days that followed after as he tried to keep it together. Breaking the news to your parents was difficult, but Tighnari forced himself to be the one to tell them. He was prepared for their devastation, and subsequent angry accusations for not protecting you like he promised. For once, he didn’t sass back, but rather quietly accepted their hatred. He believed that they had every right to blame him. After all, Tighnari was the one who was supposed to keep you safe, both as the leader of the Forest Rangers, and as your lover.
Tighnari never thought he would miss you as strongly as he currently did now that you were gone. It was nothing new for you to go days without seeing each other because he sometimes had to go to Sumeru City to give lectures or conduct botany experiments in Pardis Dhyai.
But this time was different. This time, he knew he would never see you again.
Never again will he come home to be greeted with your smile, and he missed the warm feeling that filled his heart back then. He missed your voice, the way you pet his ears and tail, the meals you brought him when he was busy with work, the letters you wrote to him when he was out on a trip… he missed you.
Some nights, he would wake up with tears in his eyes, filled with longing for the happy dreams he had about you. But they will forever remain only dreams, taunting him with a life he can no longer have because you’re not here anymore.
You will never return, and Tighnari was left with a heavy feeling in his chest that refused to completely go away no matter how many years passed. He will always regret sending you out with Collei that day.
He threw himself into his work to distract from the ache in his heart. The thought of someone else dying to the withering like you did scared him, so Tighnari made it his mission to eliminate all the withering zones in the forest. He never wanted something similar to happen to anyone else, and it was the only way he thought he could atone.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#gorou x reader#baizhu x reader#zhongli x reader#diluc x reader#tighnari x reader
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Machinist 1
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)
Characters: August Walker
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
Your forehead pinches and your eyes singe. Your brows dip as you focus on your tasks, your hands firm on the small cylinder as you smooth the edge. Your work is tedious and precise, but you work off muscle memory. It all comes naturally.
You lean in as you finish off the small piece, slowly pulling it away from the spinning wheel. You hit the stop and admire your handiwork briefly and label it before putting the piece aside in its coordinated container. You keep your space as tidy as you can, as organized as possible to avoid anything missing or overlooked.
You lean on the tall stool you never use; it’s too high and this job isn’t really made for sitting. You take off your safety glasses and pull the bandana down from over your hairline to sop up your sweat. Your shoulders are tight and sore and your lower back tugs from your half-bent posture.
You fix your bandana and near the work table again. Your old station was too high and now this one somehow is too low. It’s like a cruel trick.
You pull the next blueprint up on the screen, clacking on the keys to zoom. It’s simple. You’re sent the schematics and you make whatever’s needed. It is a less than exciting job but it pays the bills.
As you put your materials out in front of you and ready the borer, the noise of the factory forms a calamitous wall around you. You’ve learned to tune it out, you hardly notice when Bill swears at his lathe or Joe and Sakir argue over one thing or another. You keep to your work. You keep to yourself.
Before you can start your next job, you sense a shift in the air. Voices quiet, machines slow and some stop. You peer over but can’t see much from your vantage in the corner. You claimed the station even though the air flow is crap. You prefer that you’re not center among the chaos.
You begin by shaping the steel into a flat circle, then bore a hole in the middle. You’re going to have to be careful with how thin the sheet is but any thicker and it will impinge the hinge in the blueprint. You’ll have to make that too.
The odd lull seems to flow across the factory floor like a tide. You peer up only as the air seems to stagnate. You see a man approaching. You don’t recognise him but he’s not very much different than most men you work with; ball cap, plaid shirt, that overly macho stance.
Unlike most factory men, he isn’t built like a noodle or with an extra pouch around his middle. He’s tall and lumbering and his shoulders broad. Across his upper lip, he sports a dark mustache, and his blue are somehow bright and dark at once.
“Hello,” he approaches as his bold tone rolls like thunder, “machinist?”
Your brows knot together curiously as you shut off the borer and set aside the parts. You turn to him completely, “yes.”
“Ah,” he reaches into the bin and takes out the cylinder you just finished, “fine work. Detailed. The labeling is clever.”
You’re wary. You’re used to the men talking down to you. It’s not that unusual but something about him is loftier than you’re used too.
“Engineer?” You wonder. He has to be. Their degrees seem to overload their egos in a certain kind of way.
“Supervisor,” he puts the part back in the green container, “first day. Did you not receive the notice?”
“I did,” you assure him. You read the notice on the lunchroom wall but it didn’t matter much to you. He isn’t the first replacement to pass through the position, especially since the buyout.
“August Walker,” he offers his large hand.
You eye it and reach with your glove, mindless of the darkened fabric, and dully recite your name. He squeezes, in the way that men do, trying to prove their strength. You simply allow him his little display before rescinding your hand.
“How long have you worked here?” He asks.
You look around. You notice Bill watching and a few others trying to act like they aren’t. You know what they’re thinking. If fat needs to be trimmed, naturally it should be the girl.
“Three years,” you answer.
“Really? Work like this, I’d have guessed longer,” he muses, “by looking at you, though, I might have guessed you just started.”
“Mm,” you grumble and turn back to your parts.
“Compliment,” he says bluntly.
“Right,” you utter. “Got work orders.”
“So, you do,” he agrees, “but I’m your boss.”
You hesitate and pull your hands back from the table. You face him again as he stands on the other side of the table’s arm. You step up to your side and look up at him.
“Is there something I missed? A task I should focus on first, sir?” You ask.
He snorts and one side of his mouth lifts up in amusement, “not much for water cooler talk, huh?”
“With due respect, I’m on the clock.”
"Due respect," he echoes.
His eyes flick up and down and you withhold your discomfort. It isn’t unusual. Your coworkers are more often in miserable marriages or eternally single. They all can’t help but ogle you now and again, even if you dress exactly like them. Nothing special. Not the girls at the bar or the wives they once loved.
“Well then, maybe I’ll run into in the lunchroom and you can tell me all about yourself,” he plants his hands on the table and leans over just slightly, “I’m dying to know how someone like you ended up in a place like this.”
You tweak a brow and cross your arms. Right. He’s one of those. Just like the rest of them. This isn’t your place, you’re an intruder.
“I mean, why would you come here and sweat over all this dirty work when you could be put up in a kitchen, huh?” He wonders with a smirk, “but I’ve seen the men around here, none of them got the guts to put you where you belong.”
Your chest rises and falls as a swell of anger comes over you. You know the best way to react is not to. So, you don’t.
“Sir, I’m right at home right here,” you assure him and turn back to your station.
You ignore him as you adjust your glasses and adjust a setting on the lather. What you wouldn’t do to put his face to the grinder. He isn’t worth the damage his thick skull would do to the wheel.
#august walker#dark august walker#dark!august walker#august walker x reader#drabble#series#the machinist#au#factory au#mission impossible: fallout
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Big Fat Texas Family - Hangman x Reader
Ok ok ok so here's my #RomComChallenge entry for @sorchathered's Birthday Rom Com Challenge. It was based (loosely) on My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and in my head, the Seresin Family is very similar to the Portokalos Family - they're big, they're loud, they're very traditional. And Jake is bringing his girlfriend (of 6 months) home to meet them, for his sisters wedding. I wasn't too sure where I was going with this at first, but then I found some common themes, and that's when I added the quotes from the movie. It's just a lot of fluff, So...here you go!
OH! I also threw in a little head canon of mine, involving a relationship with Hangman and someone from TG '86, let me know if you spot it and the references!
Happy Birthday Sarah! I hope you like it!
“My family is big and loud but they're my family.”
Jake stared at the invitation in his hands. His sister’s wedding was only a month away and he had gotten the text last night that read “Jake, need to know if you’re bringing a plus 1 to the wedding - gotta send in the final numbers” He hadn’t texted back yet, because he hadn’t yet told you about it, nor had you met his family. His giant, very southern, very traditional family. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure if that was even close to an appropriate place to introduce a girlfriend, albeit that you two had been dating for almost 5 months. You were on your way over, he had dinner in the oven and he was ridiculously nervous. It was now or never.
The doorbell ringing shook him out of his internal debate and he set the invitation on the counter, before making his way to the foyer and letting you in “hey doll” he pecked your lips sweetly “hi, I brought wine” you held up a nice bottle that you’d gotten from someone as a gift and never drank. You followed Jake into the kitchen, while he grabbed the bottle opener you picked two wine glasses from the cabinet and set them on the island, in sight of the wedding invitation. “What’s this? An invite?” You picked it up to read the details, completely missing the slight look of panic across your boyfriend’s face. “Uhh yeah, my sister's wedding is next month, and I’ll be going home for that week…” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck as your big eyes met his, he knew you loved weddings, and parties and getting dolled up but he was nervous to bring you home, not because he didn’t think his family would approve, in fact it was the exact opposite. They would love you, so much so he was a little concerned they would scare you away.
His family could be a little overbearing. There were a lot of them, he was the oldest of 4 and the only boy, his mom had two sisters and a brother, and his dad was one of 6 kids, Not to mention his nan and pops. It was overwhelming on a regular family holiday, factor in a wedding where all of his cousins would be there too? He was sure some of the guys would hit on you, and the girls could just be, well, a lot. “Oh” you tried to hide the slight disappointment in your voice, you’d only been together a short while, surely he had a good reason for not telling you about it until now. It didn’t make it past him though, he saw the flash of disappointment cross your face, and he was over to you in less than a second, taking your hand and cupping your cheek to meet his eyes “I invited you over to ask if you would consider coming with me, but you should be warned. My family is big, and loud, and overbearing and I have a lot of cousins” you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips “I would love to come with you, but only if you really want me to” A smile reaches Jake’s lips as he rests his hands on your waist “yes, I definitely do, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
~~
You’re luckily able to work remotely on the week of the wedding. You were currently wearing one of Jake’s Top Gun sweatshirts and curled up with your head on his shoulder as he quizzed you on his family tree. “Tommy, Samantha and Peter are whose kids?” You closed your eyes, racking your brain through what you already knew “Your uncle Ron’s kids, uncle Ron is your mom’s brother” Jake nodded proudly “yes, exactly” Your eyes fell closed for a brief moment as the altitude lowered and you prepared for landing. “Jake, you don’t have to quiz me, I’ll be fine.” Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head “I know, and I’m glad you’re with me, I think I’m more nervous than anything…'' Before he could finish his thought, the pilot came on the system, announcing to prepare for landing. You shifted back to your own seat and buckled your belt. Peeking out your window, you saw the ground approaching rapidly - no turning back now.
Jake grabbed your bags as soon as he spotted them on the carousel and held your hand leading you out of the baggage claim section “so, I think my dad is picking us up” you nodded, wishing you could have at least changed out of his sweatshirt to meet any member of his family “ok I guess, they do have uber in Texas don’t they?” He simply chuckled, as he led you out to the arrival section. “Jake!” “There they are!” “Oh they look so cute together!” were the first things you heard, as you saw a group of what was certainly Seresin family members waiting for you. An older man who was no doubt Jake’s dad, was smiling the same eye crinkling smile you’ve seen many times on your boyfriend’s face, an older woman, sporting a beaming grin, blonde hair and the same blueish green eyes that you looked into on an almost daily basis, alongside two younger women, whom you assumed were Jake’s sisters. Now you really wish you had the opportunity and foresight to change into something nicer before leaving the plane.
“Momma” Jake hugged the older woman first, and then his dad, who patted him on the back, followed by his sisters, then he turned to you. “sweetheart, these are my parents, Annie and John, my younger sister, Callie, and my youngest sister Lisa.” You smiled shyly and held out your hand to his mom “Mrs Seresin, it’s so nice to finally meet you” Annie laughed and opened her arms to pull you into a hug “I’m a hugger, dear, and Mrs Seresin is my mother in law. Please call me Annie or momma, whatever works.” You blushed and nodded, and then were enveloped into a hug by his sister “it’s about time he brought you home! Everyone is waiting at home, they’re so excited to meet you.” Jake’s eyes widened “everyone?” Callie laughed as she linked her arm through yours “of course big brother, what else did you expect?”
“There are three things that every (Greek) woman must do in life: marry (Greek) boys, make (Greek) babies, and feed everyone.”
The ride to Jake’s family ranch was filled with the family discussing wedding plans. As you sat in the back quietly taking everything in, Jake seemed to be quite tense beside you. You slipped your hand in his “what’s wrong?” You whispered, he turned to look at you “my whole family is at the ranch, I just…. I’m worried, it’s going to be a lot.” You smiled softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze “I’ll be fine.”
As the truck pulled into the ranch, you almost gasped in shock at how many other vehicles were there. Some of the family was outside on the porch, and some kids in the backyard playing games. As John pulled the truck to a stop and you got out, you heard someone from inside the house yell “they’re here!” Jake shot you an apologetic smile, while giving your hand a squeeze “I’ll be right there the whole time.” He exited the truck and jogged around to open the door for you, taking your hand and helping you step down, just as what seemed to be a flood of people approached. Jake was enveloped in hugs and kisses from his other sister, Julia, and his various aunts, while his mom stood next to you making introductions. There were so many names and you were swept into hugs and kisses by all the ladies, that is, until a voice rang out from somewhere at the back of the crowd. “Where is my handsome grandson!?” The crowd of family seemingly parted, making way for an elderly lady with gray hair and big glasses, wearing a flowery dress with an apron overtop. She moved through the crowd towards you and Jake, stopping just in front of the two of you, a big beaming smile on her face “Jacob!” She pulled him into a big hug, and pat his back “Hi Nana” She cupped his face and pinched his cheeks “you need to eat more, now, where is this girlfriend I’ve heard you brought to meet us?” Your eyes widened and you stood up a little straighter, a pink blush rising to your cheeks, as all the sets of eyes turned to you, and Jake stepped aside to reveal you to his grandmother. She approached you slowly, taking in your appearance and leaned her head to one side “oh she’s darling, Jacob” She reaches for your hand, linking it around her arm and patting the top of it “come on inside dear, I want to hear all about you”. She led you through the throng of family members, Jake following closely behind with the bags, but not before getting a knowing look from his mother.
“You better get married soon. You're starting to look... old!”
The week with Jake’s family went by in a blur. It was full of family dinners and wedding planning. While the boys went to watch football, you volunteered to assist tying bows on favors, and while this was happening, Jake’s mom, aunts and sisters, bombarded you with questions getting to know you. You answered each one in kind, all the while Jake’s grandmother sat silently at the end of the table, a small smile ever present on her face. Before you knew it, it was the day of the wedding. Annie had roped you into getting your hair done with all the girls at the salon, so when Jake kissed you bright and early in the morning to say goodbye while he went to get ready with the boys, you got up as well. Pulling on a pair of shorts and a button up shirt - so as not to ruin your hair when it was done - you made your way down to the kitchen. As you came down the stairs, you heard the hustle and bustle of voices and excitement. You hesitantly opened the door and everyone froze, then cheered and someone handed you a mimosa, you would think that you were the bride if you didn’t know any better. Once everyone had finished their coffees and mimosas, all the women loaded up into multiple vehicles and headed for the hair salon.
“So Jake, when are you gonna ask that girl to marry you and have all this hullabaloo for yourself?” his cousin Peter asked, as he held up a beer to his lips. Jake shook his head but smiled softly to himself as he worked on folding pocket squares for the boys, but avoiding an answer. His uncle Ron, chuckled “You better make a decision or come up with an answer when your grandma asks you the same thing boy, it’s about time you settle down and have a few kids too.” Jake just shook his head “it’s not all about that, but we’ve only been together for barely 6 months.” Uncle Ron patted his back a little harder than necessary “you’re a smart man, and a good pilot, you know when to take the shot.” shooting Jake a wink, before leaving the room to the younger boys.
"Are you kidding? Any second now he's gonna look at me and go, 'Ha. Yeah, right, you're so not worth this.'"
"Yes, you are."
You felt gorgeous, your hair was done perfectly to your inspiration photo and your dress fit like a glove. But somehow, the butterflies were still wreaking havoc in your stomach and you hoped that the nerves would dissipate with time. You made your way downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the aunts, uncles and cousins were waiting for Julia to come down. You helped yourself to a glass of the punch, and nearly choked when you realized how much alcohol had been put into it, but you drank it anyway, hoping to keep the nerves at bay.
When it was time for the ceremony, you sat with the bride’s side, with aunts and cousins that you’d only just met, and while they welcomed you with open arms, You felt ridiculously out of place. Your family was tiny in comparison, both your parents being only children, and all the traditions you’d been witnessing this past week, you didn’t have any of them as far as you knew. If you did marry Jake, even though you’d only been dating a short time, you knew it would be just this big, if not bigger with him being the eldest boy. You let your mind wander to what it would be like, so much so that you almost missed the doors opening and ceremony beginning.
"Why?... Why do you love me?"
"Because I came alive when I met you"
Jake held your hand as you sat at the table at the reception. By now the couple had been pronounced, dinner had been eaten, and cake had been cut. The party was about to really begin but he could tell you still seemed anxious. “Darlin’ do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” You looked at him with wide eyes “Nothing! Everything has been so beautiful, and I’m so full.” He raised an eyebrow that told you he wasn’t buying a word and you sighed, turning your attention to your now very interesting napkin, “I just got to thinking about what it would be like if we were to get married…” if he was surprised (he wasn’t) he didn’t show it. Before he was able to respond, all three of his sisters came over to you and grabbed your hands, one handing you a drink while simultaneously pulling you to the dance floor. They taught you the basics of a line dance, and Jake sat there with a whisky in his hands, watching his family including you like one of their own. That was when he was sure he was going to marry you, and soon.
--
THE END x
130 notes
·
View notes
Text
A heart Made of Glass ch. 13
Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.
Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision
Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.
Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.
Oh, I am back and this chapter is a wrap-up for the confrontation between Reader and Wanda. They had been given a moment of solitude before going back to their own reality, can they really get past through everyting that happened to them in the past?
Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chpter 12 - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Can we change the past?
You never imagined this ordeal would end in the way it did.
The universe you left behind came crumbling down under the weight of its own shaky foundations, it became a cold unfitting world that disappear the moment you and the others touched the land of another Universe.
Everything was kind of blurry from the on.
You knew Wanda was taken away, and soon after you were also being carried to a room in which you lost consciousness after your body finally gave up. Your mind didn’t have the time to think about what had happened or what would happen after you were completely recover. You let things happened, and in that time you gave yourself to a blissful mindfulness in which you knew, sooner or later, you would need to face everything you had been running from.
It soon became evident that time was running out, with people coming in and out of your room checking over your physical and mental well-being before asking uneasy questions. Sometimes you would evade those questions, and some others you would give vague answers that would tell the others you were no fool.
You stretched out grasping thin air in your fist, tilting your head you started making a small sequence of Tai Chi you had learnt from Yelena. After more than a week of being in the hospital, you were finally able to feel your body as yours again. Your muscles flexed, and the shadows under your feet stirred with the silent command of your thoughts. You smiled glancing at your reflection through the window, everything was working just fine and you knew you were ready to go back home.
The door behind you cracked, and the knob turned to the left revealing the single figure of Doctor Jean Grey. The woman was beautiful, and her smile was infectious always putting your mind at ease.
“Hello, Y/N, how are you this morning?”
“Doc, I’m doing better now, thank you.” You spined around slowly, the shadows wavering around until they covered your feet, your smile grew cocking your head to follow the lead of your left arm then your right one.
“I certainly felt much better now.”
“I can see that.” The woman smile stepping closer to your bed while placing a single file on the breakfast table.
“Tell me you cam here with good news.”
Jean offered a single smile while taking a seat, she sat waiting for you to settle down on the bed. The room soon filled with silence that was only broken by the busy morning routine right outside your room. You had learnt your room was in one of the busiest wings in the hospital back in the Tower. Wanda had not been that lucky, though.
“Well, I do come with news, if they are good or not depend entirely on you.” Jean could see the change in you, even through the easy smile you wore the young doctor could see you were being overly cautious.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
Doctor Jean Gray sauntered inside the room with a light blush on her cheeks. Her eyes twinkling merrily glancing at the chart in her hands before settling then on you.
For some reason, the reaction of the woman made you squirm uncomfortably. You had been in this universe for two days now, but it wasn't until now that you were forced to go inside the examination room and get yourself a quick check-up. It was quite evident that in this world mutants and superpowered individuals were treated differently, and the rules governing each one of them were set to get control on the population.
“You seemed rather chirp today, Doc, good news for you or me?”
Jean chuckled, placing the chart on the bed before putting a chair close to the bed.
“It's my anniversary, and I received quite the news today.” She stated tilting her head, you smiled back at her.
“Congratulations, then.”
Jean nodded, putting a strand of hair out of her face, “thank you.”
“So that would be for you, what about me?” You finally asked leaning forward, your eyes drifting to the chart in your bed.
“Everything seems to be okay.”
“But…?” You arched a brow when Jean leaned back on the chair offering a serious facade.
“You had been quite silent in the last couple of days, keeping yourself out of everyone's way and most importantly,” here Jean stopped as if measuring her words, “your avoidance of your particular predicament has raised some concerns on our end.”
Silence followed such a declaration, you dared to lock eyes with the woman sitting in front of you well-aware of her ability to read beyond your initial thoughts. Jean didn't move nor did she give any indication of breaking into small talk, I stead she seemed to sit there and wait patiently for you to speak.
“I’m not sure I want to have this conversation.” You sighed, lifting a hand to the back of your head, scratching the nape of your neck. “But I guess it is inevitable.”
“It is.” Jean softened her features, grabbing the file she left on your bed, she opened it in a single page while presenting the form to you.
“How…how is she?” Your voice was above a whisper, but it was loud enough for Jean to hear it.
The woman leaned back letting you read the file while she started talking.
“She is doing better now, trying to recover her magical core had been quite the challenge but our own team of witches and healers had come together to help around.”
There was nothing much you could do but nod, your eyes drifted to the file with your thoughts trying to focus on a single issue at a time. Ever since the five of you got to that universe everything had been but a blur; your Wanda was taken straight to the hospital and she had been looked after Tony's team back in the Avengers Tower.
“That's good.”
“I just want to do one last check-up before clearing you up, America has been waiting for you and the twins are very excited as well.” Jean chuckled, standing up making her way to the closest drawer and putting some surgical gloves out. “They seemed to think that having a pair of moms at their disposal would give them some kind of advantage in their mischief.”
You tried to hide your expression from the other woman, but it was inevitable. Jean offered a sympathetic smile while getting to work.
“They are just children…” you mumbled feeling your body warm up, your muscles twitching just as Jean started testing your reflex. “I don't think they understand that much.”
“Mm, you would be surprised how much Billy and Tommy understand about the situation.” Jean leaned back, lifting her left hand and letting it hover right on top of your forehead. “They are pretty smart, and sensitive.”
You pressed your lips together not wanting to go into a discussion. Not that you could raise any arguments against that statement, you had noticed just how sensitive they were and how smart they were. They had come that first time into your room calling you mom without a care in the world, telling you about their day while also making you aware of how they had sneaked in to see you and Wanda.
Your counterpart had been amused by your reaction, while her Wanda had been just a tad bit concerned about the confusion the whole situation could create in the children.
“If I were to be honest, you look more confused than them.”
“You told me you don't read minds unless you have permission.” You replied furrowing your brows, Jean had the sense of looking embarrassed but never lost her smile when looking back at you.
“You kind of scream that thought at me, sometimes it is inevitable.”
Jean then leaned back, grabbing your file and writing some notes down.
“I think you're ready to go.” Jean cocked her head when the first thing you did was jump down the bed and go to the closest chair holding your clothes. “But Wanda…”
You winced, grabbing your clothes tightly before turning around, this time around Jean was looking serious, her eyes gleaming lightly.
“What about Wanda?”
The silence grew around the both of you, your body was already tensing the muscles you would need to run. Jean opened her mouth only to close it again as if she didn't know what to say or how to say it.
“I think you should visit her, it can make a difference in her recovery.”
At the end of the day, this last visit from Jean Grey was just that, another attempt from these people to go to Wanda and make sure she was okay. For you to stop running and face her taking ownership of what would happen next.
It was complicated.
And you were unsure as to how to proceed or what was expected of you.
“Look, I just…”
“MOM!!!!”
Not sooner had you heard such a scream, you found yourself being tackled by a pair of bouncing kids. Your heart skipped a beat with your arms lifted at your shoulders height while the kids had their faces up to look at you with toothy grins. They were quite adorable, and in reality a part of you seemed to just instantly loved them, noticing the likeness they had to Wanda and yourself.
“Okay, guys let’s back up a little, remember what we talked to you about?”
The room was suddenly very crowded, your counterpart came right in followed by America and Pietro. It became quite apparent that everyone was waiting for Jean to finish her last check-up on you before getting into the room and see how you were doing. You placed your hands on the twin’s heads ruffling their hair playfully while offering a tentative smile.
“That’s okay, I’m getting used to the enthusiastic greeting.”
“And them calling you mom?” Pietro inquired, quaking his brow while placing his hands in his pockets.
You couldn’t help the little wince, recoiling from the comment with your body turning to the chair and grabbing your clothes once more. Billy and Tommy glanced at one another, with Billy opening his eyes really big while making a gesture with his head.
“Anyway, I’m just glad to know your good to go, because I was thinking we can go right ahead and get a look around and perhaps…” America started babbling making her way to your bed.
You nodded absentmindedly, your attention drifting for a moment to your counterpart and Jean that had decided to step out of the room to have a small conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on, and what they were discussing with your thoughts going over and over to the woman that was still unconscious somewhere inside the building.
Everything was strange in this universe.
A part of you knew that sooner or later the conversation of Wanda and you going back to your respective reality would come; but it was quite evident everyone was waiting for the right moment to intervene and perhaps get something done.
“Well, I think you better change so we can get out of here,” Pietro broke your line of thoughts, his eyes gleaming mischievously with his lips curling into a familiar expression. “Billy and Tommy prepare something for you, and I bet you are dying to eat something that isn’t hospital food.”
“You are completely right on that one, I’m going to change and then…you guys can show me a good time.”
You offered a tentative smile, your heart dropping for a moment when the twins cheered babbling non-stop to America and Pietro. For a brief moment you wondered…
…was this what you were missing back home?
_______________
You had been welcomed inside the household of your counterpart.
This time around, the guest room had been prepared and you could enjoy the joys of a soft bed and a nice view of the backyard while trying to get some sleep. The day had been quite unexpected, with the twins and America being active participants in different forms of conversations and different sets of games and rambles that you were not prepared to share with these people.
You had tried to get away from it, but Billy and Tommy were very adamant on having you close and including you in every single moment of their afternoon. You didn’t fight too hard to not be there, though. After a while you realised Wanda would not be joining the family outing and actually your counterpart ended up being just a good source of geek material that differed from the one you had in your own world.
Not for a single moment did anyone mention the white elephant in the room.
And for that you were quite grateful.
But now, in the middle of the night with the stars twinkling above your head and everyone sleeping in the house you couldn't help but think about it. Time was running out, sooner or later you would need to go back and face the consequences of what happened back in Norway and in that other universe.
Sooner or later you would need to face Wanda once more.
“It is pretty late for you to be thinking so loud.”
You kept your attention on the stars, the room was completely dark which was one of the reasons as to why you knew she had come home already. The young woman took a few steps forward until she was standing beside you, her face turned to the sky with her arms hugging her tightly.
“I just couldn’t go back to sleep.” You shrugged leaning against the wall, your head tilted to the side. “It was quite an exciting day, I think I’m still in a sugar rush.”
Wanda chuckled, lowering her head, her eyes gleaming lightly, turning her attention to you.
“So I heard. The twins really took you everywhere and made sure you taste everything back in the restaurant, didn’t they?”
Your face fell when the memories of that day came back, the twins had never left your side while telling you stories about their adventures. Not for a single moment did they think or even entertained the idea of them not being part of your life in your other world. For them it had been natural to make sure that you and Wanda did not forget about them. That was one of the reasons why it had been a shock for them to find out you and they didn’t know about that restaurant.
“You should tell our other selves about this place, mom! I know they will love it!”
“Yeah, we love it, and you love bringing us here!”
It still burnt that this life was not yours, but there was nothing you could do.
Wanda could read your thoughts; she could sense your pain and it was something she couldn’t take. Not with you. Wanda dropped her arms, stepping closer to you. Her hand felt warm on your face, brushing away your hair and mapping out the form of your jaw. It was so unexpected you couldn’t help but freeze in place the tension evident in the contraction of your muscles, your left foot stepping back and stopping waiting for the other foot to join. It didn’t happen, though, you stood there waiting for something else to happen.
“They are good kids.” Your voice trembled at the very end of that sentence, but your eyes never waver in their hold of those green irises.
“They are. They are very much your children as much as they are mine.” Wanda offered a timid smile that soon vanished, whatever hold she had on you broke and the young woman turned around as if ready to leave.
The tension in your body didn’t leave, and your mind was poking at you uncomfortably pressing over for you to speak. To say something, to ask the question you were dying to ask but didn’t dare to do so. It looked as if nothing else was going to be said that day, as if nothing else was going to happen and you were trying to get a hold of your beating heart when Wanda stopped by the door turning to the side and locking her eyes with yours.
“You will need to face her sooner or later, Y/N.” Wanda let her words sink in, her eyes softening lightly when she could sense the conflict inside of you.
“Do I have to?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda lifted her shoulder stepping back.
“I think you know the answer to that question,” she stated letting out a tired yawn, “what you really need to ask yourself, though is what would happen if that confrontation doesn’t come the way you expect it to be? What if it becomes everything you thought impossible with her? Are you ready to face that conversation? Are you ready to make a decision for you and her?”
You hated the fact this Wanda was so insightful and you hated even more that she was right. That was the real reason as to why you couldn’t sleep, as to why you were trying to bury your emotions and your memories, while also running away from what you were experimenting with. Of the changes that had come knocking on your door all those months ago.
“Have a good night, Y/N, rest and follow your instincts on this one because they…” Wanda left the sentence in the air, and it was you the one to finish it.
“They had never failed me.”
There was a flash of a smile and then Wanda left, closing the door behind her.
___________________
But trying to follow your instincts was easier said than done.
A part of you knew the meeting was inevitable, after all, the both of you needed to go back to your respective Universe and this would never happen if you two kept on avoiding one another. But then, there was another part, the one you had been carrying with you for far too long, that was afraid of a confrontation that might broke your heart all over again.
You played with time for as long as you could, taking advantage of Tony’s curiosity and Loki’s infinite questions. You became very helpful of Wong and Hank’s questions, and you couldn’t help but give in the twin’s whims every night before going to bed. Nevertheless, you had the days count on that universe, and it wasn’t as if you really wished to stay. You missed home, and you missed your friends and family; but the final step to get everything ready to go back was something you had never felt ready to do.
On the fifth morning you woke up on a guest room, you knew you couldn't run anymore. America had finished her breakfast and Y/N was reading the paper, no one did or said anything for a moment until you sat at the table with the coffee warming up the mug in your hands.
“Wanda is fully recovered.” Your counterpart stated, never leaving her eyes from the page she was reading, “she is confused, a little weak but ready to talk and go back home.”
“Talk?” You asked a little harsher than you were meant to.
Y/N lifted a single brow, her lips pursing tightly.
“With you.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but a kick on your leg made you stop. America was glaring at you, her head shaking slightly opening her eyes and glancing meaningfully at your counterpart.
“I know, I just…”
Y/N sighed, closing the paper and placing it slowly on the counter. Her eyes pierced you with a gaze filled with emotion, you shifted on the chair trying to look away but unable to do so.
“Whether you want it or not, you will need to have this confrontation. Whatever you are afraid of facing…I think you should get your shit together and face it right away. You are running out of time, and excuses.”
Your counterpart finished her tirade with a slap to the table, shaking her head as she stood up and left the kitchen. You cocked your head until you found America glancing at you.
“I guess there is no running from this, is it?”
America shrugged, biting her lower lip, “I guess not.”
You lowered your eyes to the counter before lifting them to ensure America was paying attention to you.
“Once this is over, are you staying or are you coming back with us?” The question caught her off of guard, America was looking shocked and her mouth tried to form a specific thought but was unable to respond right away.
You chuckled standing up, your hand on her shoulder.
“You would be more than welcome back home, but I know you missed this place greatly.” You squeezed her shoulder before walking away, a single wall of dark shadows spreading before you. “Think about it, America, I'll be back in a few hours and we will talk about me and Wanda going back home.”
“I will think about it.” America mumbled offering a half smile. “Good luck.”
You winked at her trying to show more confidence than you actually felt before crossing over the shadows and disappearing into them. The trip was short, with the shadows embracing you with a cold hold leading through the space until you stepped inside a dimly lit hall.
The place was completely silent, though you could make out the sound of chatter in the distance. You lowered your gaze to the floor, our ears twitching lightly ignoring the rest of the sounds and focusing on your heartbeat.
The last couple of months have been a complete rollercoaster for you. You never imagined, even in your wildest dreams, that Wanda would show at your doorstep with a young woman asking for help. For a very long time, you had put in the back of your mind the confrontation with Wanda. A part of you knew it would come, eventually. But you never intended to be the one to take the first step for the meeting to happen.
When you got to see Wanda face to face, and actually talk to her, your world came crumbling down around you. The barriers you had built around your heart and mind ended up not being as strong and resilient as thought them to be. Your heart still missed a beat at the sound of her laughter, and your hardened façade went away as soon as you saw the suffering and the heartbreak in those green eyes.
Wanda would always be one of your greatest weaknesses.
And you hated yourself for that.
It was as if your own suffering didn't matter, as long as Wanda was fine and didn't have to feel what you felt. Yet you refused to believe her words or even offer forgiveness for the wrong doings in the past. All of this came crashing down in a single meeting, all the doubts and pain came back, but also the yearning and the confusion you were threatening to overwhelm you and leave you without a way out.
You took a deep breath, your hand running through your hair helping your uneasiness. You closed for a brief moment, and your mind went blank emptying any thoughts that might come in and make you falter in your actions. The last couple of days, and actually the last couple of months, you had thought about this moment; you had given yourself and her a chance to step aside and let the past in the past and for the both of you ready to face the present without thinking too much about the future.
The room was in complete darkness, the lights were out and the curtains were still closed. You could hear the monitor in the corner, the bed occupied the left side of the room leaving a big sofa and a couple of chairs on the right. Hanging from the wall you could see the TV that was huge enough to almost cover the wall, the only thing that prevented this from happening was the side door leading to the bathroom. Tony was really into luxury, you closed the door behind you a little unsure on how to proceed.
The tension around the room only increased when you felt a pair of eyes on you. It didn't take too long for you to know who it was, you stepped forward making your way to the curtains.
“Would you mind if I open them up? I prefer the natural light of the day instead of the artificial ones.” You turned lightly, finally locking your eyes with those of Wanda.
Your Wanda.
“That's fine.” She replied, her voice was but a whisper but you could get the strong laced tone that Scarlet used whenever she talked to you.
The room changed under the light of the day, while there was not much sun the sky was cloudless and the position of the tower as well as the floor you two were currently in allowed for the perfect setting for natural light. You glanced around a city that was familiar yet strange, the weight of that stare didn't leave you, not even when you finally turned around to lock eyes with her.
“You look fine.” Wanda lowered her chin, her fingers twitching on top of the bed wanting to do or say something else but unsure where her relationship with you stood at the moment.
“I wasn't that badly injured, but I think I did need the rest.” You took a step forward, then another until you were actually standing beside Wanda.
Wanda hesitated for a moment before moving to the left, she chewed on her lower lip before patting the spot on the bed.
“You can sit here, if … if you want, there is also a chair and…” whatever else Wanda was going to say was cut off by you taking her initial offer of sitting on the bed.
Wanda felt her heart do somersaults, her body tingling at your closeness and the little voice she had come to recognize as Scarlet’s whispering to her telling her to close the distance, to grab your hand, to not let you go. But she held back knowing that her position was precarious at best and whatever you had come to discuss with her needed to be addressed first.
“How are you?” You fixed your position on the bed, well aware that the only thing you needed was to lower your arm and your hand would be touching Wanda's one.
“I'm better now, a little sore and getting use to…” here Wanda trailed off with her brows creasing a little, “to be complete, I guess. It's difficult, but I think I am ready.”
Her words held a decisive tone, but her eyes were flashing the doubts running inside her mind. You realised right there and then that nothing much had changed in the last couple of years, there were things you could still read about her.
“Ready for what?” You asked quietly, Wanda sighed shrugging.
“Going back.” She replied simply. “Getting out of your way, out of your life…I did promise you after all of this was over I wouldn't bother you any more…”
Her words stung your heart, spreading an electrifying pain all through your body until it hit your brain. You didn't understand why, exactly. That had been the deal, to help her out and then get her out of your life. Then, if you knew what was going to happen, how it would end, why were you having these doubts? Why did it hurt?
Wanda was in her own thoughts, a part of her she had tried to suppress, the one she tried to deny stirred in anger. Wanda wanted to speak out, to tell you she didn't want to go and that she certainly didn't want to pretend nothing had happened in the last couple of months. That seeing you had been one of her greatest joys in life, but it had also brought pain and sadness, that being in this universe seeing the twins and facing what could have been…
Without really noticing, tears started falling rolling down her cheeks while her heart shrank with the weight of her emotions. Wanda refused to give in, her fists closing tightly and her tears breaking her composure and without really wanting to she finally broke in front of you.
You observed the full process, the way her face changed and the tears pilling up her eyes. Wanda was trying to bottle up whatever she was feeling, whatever she was thinking. It was so easy to ignore everything the other woman was experiencing; it was easy to hold onto your shared past.
But this was Wanda.
And you couldn't ignore her. That was the reason why you had to disappear after the breakup.
With a tentative touch, you let your hand fall on top of hers. Your thumb drew circles before leaning in and wrapping her in a hug. Wanda held onto you, her sobs filling the room while her hands tried to grasp your clothes. You didn't say anything, but for some reason you could feel it.
The apology you never allowed her to share with you. The broken heart she had been wearing ever since that day.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”
Wanda cried and once she started she couldn't stop. Fixing your position on the bed you made sure she was comfortably resting her weight on your left side, putting comforting arms around her while soothing her body with sweet caresses you had dared to make in anyone but her.
Whatever conversation you were meant to have with her, whatever it was you had come to talk to her about soon crumbled under the pressure of her tears and your own feelings for her.
And just like that, you knew you couldn't let her go.
Not without a real conversation.
And not without a fight.
______________________
Wanda was not completely sure when she fell asleep, but right now she was completely aware of being awake resting on top of you with the warmth and comfort of your presence soothing her soul.
Her body tensed right away, though soon she relaxed into the embrace having noticed your even breathing and the relaxed posture of your body. You had fallen asleep as well and, at some point the both of you had ended up sharing the small hospital bed without anyone coming over to interrupt that moment.
Wanda nuzzled her face against your neck, she wished this was something she would share with you every day. How she had missed waking up in your arms, to see your smile in the mornings and your hyperactive body demand for the morning routine. Everything was so messed up, and she didn't know when she allowed her world to crumble into nothingness.
Her heart trembled with emotion, and her thoughts formed an idea Wanda knew was not completely hers but a figment of Scarlet.
You have to fight back! You need to get her back! You need to tell her everything we discovered! Everything we know!
Her voice was demanding, yet it held a hint of desperation that Wanda was familiar with. It was the same voice she had woken up to back in the battlefield after the snap, the same one she had heard countless of times whenever she thought about you or a way to recover her life. Everything had been so complicated, yet it could had been so easy to recover her life to actually try to make a change and reconcile with everyone.
There were no more tears in her eyes, and the sadness and sorrow she had lived with all her life was a burden she was tired to carry with her. With some reluctance, Wanda let go of you stirring in the bed while trying to be careful in her movements, she missed your closeness and the warm that your body had provided but it was time for her to stand up.
You need to fight for her, you cannot lose her. Not again.
The voice echoed inside her head, and Wanda knew this time around she couldn’t allow her fears to stop her from at least getting a chance to be your friend. With that thought in mind, Wanda stood on weakened feet gathering her strength before walking towards the closes wardrobe and grabbing some clothes. She gave you one last glance before making her way to the bathroom, she would need to get ready for what would come next.
It was the cold what wake you up.
The cold and the fact you missed the weight of someone resting on your left side, you sighed blinking owlishly while patting the side of the bed where you were pretty sure your companion had been resting. In those glorious moments between being awake and asleep, you were trying to grasp the reality of the woman you had been holding. Your memory groggily moving through the smell of her shampoo, and the softness of her skin and then…
You remembered.
Wanda had been crying, you had held her, you had fallen asleep…
You stood up so fast that you fell of the bed hitting your head against the night table, while hitting your ass on the ground.
“Ugh, fuck…”
“Are you…are you alright? What…did you fall off the bed?”
You wished you could hide, but instead of that you lifted your face to see Wanda standing by the bed trying to hold back her laughter just as her eyes gleamed with worry. You could sense the blush forming on your cheeks, while your whole body seemed to protest under the pain of the hits you got when falling.
“I…yes, I just…woke up too fast and…I fell off the bed.”
That was all that Wanda needed to start laughing, she couldn’t help herself. She had seen you woke up and then lose all control while getting your feet entangled on the sheets and falling on your ass. It had been funny, and the fact that you now looked all embarrassed and were pouting made for the scene not only something funny but quite adorable.
You huffed trying to stand up, rolling your eyes while the other woman held against the bed trying to control her laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, little witch…” the nickname slipped your lips without giving it a second thought. That made the laughter died and once more the room was filled with a tension neither one of you were ready to maintain.
“I’m sorry it’s just…your face, and the way you fell, so full of grace…”
“I bet.” You rolled your eyes trying to check your head and body before settling your eyes on Wanda.
The young woman had put on some jeans and a white blouse, while her hair was still wet after the bath. You furrowed your brows looking away while catching the time on the clock on the wall. It was almost midday, which would explain why you were so hungry all of a sudden.
“I guess you really are feeling better.”
Wanda bounced lightly checking her hands and body, she wouldn’t say she felt better but she certainly was tired of being in bed while letting everyone come in and out to check her over. This world had a peculiar way to treat people with powers and having so many people with magical abilities come in and check her magical core had been extenuating and rather uncomfortable. The only time she had felt at ease had been with her counterpart, and that had been a whole different situation.
“I just need to get out of here.” Wanda finally revealed offering a half smile, “I heard from one of the nurses they have a nice restaurant right across the street, it has sandwiches and pizza…perhaps…”
You blinked a couple of times at the suggestion, your hand went right away to your pocket and your wallet. You hope the money you carried with you had some sort of value on this place, with a shrugged you nodded your agreement.
“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, then.”
Wanda couldn’t hide her smile at the acceptance, she turned around and grabbing a jacket dragged you out of the room making her way directly to the elevator at the end of the hall. None of them noticed the camera watching their every move or the shadowy figure hidden in a close-by room. Your counterpart smirked shaking her head, she owed her wife a nice dinner. Wanda had always been right. Always.
In the security room, Wanda Maximoff allowed a tiny smile on her face, she lifted her stare to Tony and Loki, both of them shook their heads still slightly confused about the interaction.
“Now, what?” Tony finally asked staring at Wanda then at Loki.
“Now, we wait.” Loki replied waving away his hand. “For now, I think they are right, I’m starving and you ought to feed us, Stark.”
“Why is it always my responsibility?”
“You’re the one with money.” Loki replied ignoring the indignant huff coming from the older man, and the amused chuckled from Wanda.
_________________________
The restaurant was almost empty.
There were a few empty tables in the back, the one you chose was perfect for a nice conversation by hiding you two away from imprudent ears. The place was cosy, with decorations of blue and green creating a magical atmosphere with the dim lights around the establishment and the sweet aroma of spices that made you remembered home. You sat down facing Wanda who was looking troubled at the moment.
The waitress dedicated you a timid smile while putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Welcome to the Sandwich Emporium, what can I get you today?” Her question was directed at you, and her eyes never even bothered to look away as you grabbed the menu she was offering.
“I’m not sure, what do you recommend?” You glanced at the menu then back at Wanda, the redhead was glaring at the menu pursing her lips lightly while you merely frowned.
“Well, that depends on what are you looking for,” her tone of voice didn’t leave anything to the imagination, and you couldn’t help but raise a single eyebrow at that. The young woman opened her eyes wide blushing profusely. “I mean…I…”
“She is having La Tricolore and I’m having La Tartuffo.” Wanda point two pictures on the menu, before handing it over to the waitress, her eyes gleaming strangely while you just blinked slightly confused. “And I’m having some water, and she is having a cappuccino.”
“Very well, I’ll be right back.” The young woman left rather quickly, her ears burning red after having come across the redhead.
You had your eyebrows raised glancing over at Wanda who was trying rally hard to ignore you. After a moment she finally let out a heavy sigh, her head turned away from you.
“La Tricolore has beef, cheese, some hazelnuts, and that pistachio cream you…” here Wanda trailed off opening her eyes when she realized what she had done. “I’m sorry, I…”
“I like it, sounds delicious.” You placed your hands on the table not really bothered by what had happened but rather confused. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“I never forget.” Wanda brushed her hair away lifting her face to finally lock her eyes with yours. “I always…remember, Y/N.”
“I remembered too, Wanda. I remembered everything.” You stated but whatever anger you had held it had given way to bitterness and sadness.
Wanda winced tapping on the table before wiggling her hands together.
“I…I never got to…” She tilted her head, and you could see the tears hidden behind those green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
It didn’t even cover what had happened, all the pain she had caused on that day. But those words made your soul tremble, you scoffed shaking your head leaning back on the seat.
“It is too late, don’t you think?” You could see your words hurt her, and everything you had lived up to that point came rushing in piling up inside your mind until you just put everything away and left what was important.
Wanda nodded defeated, “I know, I just…I never got to say it to you.”
But it wasn’t about asking for forgiveness, and you knew that. And Wanda was also well aware of the fact. The question was not about forgiveness, the question was if you could move forward after everything that had happened.
“I never got to say it, I messed up. I was so afraid, I just…I didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to…deal with everything.”
Wanda spoke with a clear desperation tinge in her words, you could see the crumbling behind her eyes, how her soul would tremble while trying to tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear ten years ago.
“Vision was convenient.” Wanda said, this time around she grabbed the seat tightly her body completely tensed making her neck hurt as she forced herself to keep her head up and look at you. “I was so afraid, so lost and…and It’s not an excuse! I deserve your hatred! I deserved your anger! I just…”
“You could have told me, you know?” You finally said when it was obvious Wanda couldn’t continue talking. “I was there for you, and I could have helped. I thought you trusted me but instead of telling me whatever was happening you…”
This was not the conversation the both of you were supposed to have, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be this way. You weren’t supposed to understand, but to stand your ground and tell Wanda how much of a bitch she had been. But the last couple of days had taught you something about yourself, about Wanda and what could have been. And if Wanda was confused you weren’t fairing any better.
“I know you don’t get it, and that’s okay because you grew with Natasha and then you have Fury and Maria and Yelena…” Wanda waved her hand weakly, her tears rolling down while her eyes revealed the deep sadness she had always carried with herself.
“I lost everything, and I didn’t know how to deal…and you were strong, and brave, you were not afraid of anything and I was only me.” Wanda broke into a sob, with a crooked smile that showed you just how broken she was. How lost she was still feeling.
“I…after it happened I never…” Wanda started but couldn’t finish, you perked up at her words because this was something you hadn’t bothered to find out.
“What happened after I left? Were you happy? Did he make you happy?” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but your words carry with them poison that you had been holding for far too long.
“I didn’t stay with him, Y/N. I tried to look for you, to reach out for you but…but I couldn’t and I didn’t stay with Vision, I didn’t feel anything I just… I messed up! Okay? That’s what I did, and I didn’t know how to make it better and I’ve been trying to be good to make it better all these years…”
You wouldn't know about that.
Just as she was trying to do some good, you were trying to forget. It was one of the reasons why you kept yourself out of everyone's business and dealt with the superhero work alone. When Tony and Steve got into that quarrel and you saw what happened back in Lagos you knew you had made the right decision. Then, everything became more complicated and you just busy yourself with other problems, always trying to keep the team away while trying to get glimpses of news about Wanda. You knew it had been hard for her, and you also knew she was never alone.
Vision.
That had always been the main issue, wasn't it?
“I was on the run with the others, but I just wanted to disappear. Vision…he was helping me with getting a new identity.” Wanda leaned back tilting her head to the wall to hide the tears rolling down her cheek.
It was an answer to an unasked question. The conversation died for a moment, the waitress eyed Wanda before offering a smile to you placing the different orders on the table.
“Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, if there is anything I can do, I'm Anne.” The waitress offered one last smile walking backwards and then leaving you two alone.
The food smelled delicious; you grabbed your sandwich allowing Wanda the moment of privacy. The silence grew heavier just as you distracted yourself glancing around the place while taking another bite from your lunch.
“I was just trying to live my life, and then when Thanos happened…” Wanda huffed turning to her food, she was no longer hungry if anything she wanted to disappear.
Everything seemed so pointless, the look in your eyes would never leave, and she would go back to a world in which she was despised by the only woman she had ever been in love with.
“This is really delicious; you should try it.” You interrupted her, offering a full smile while grabbing another bite.
Wanda blinked confused; she kept her eyes on you then back on her food. For a brief moment, she hesitated, she was no longer hungry and if she were to be honest she felt tired. You took a sip from your cappuccino, placing your hand on the table, dangerously close to hers.
“I know you are hungry, Wanda. And I also know…I didn't want to know, but I get it.” You passed your hand on your hair pressing your back on the seat. “I'm tired of this, I just…”
“I can't take it when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” You crunched up your nose, Wanda lowered her eyes grabbing her food.
“As if I am nothing to you, as if you…you hate me and…”
She trailed off putting the food in her mouth and silencing her words. You frowned, pursing your lips while playing those words inside your head.
“I don't hate you.” You softened your features, your eyes glistening under the weight of memories. “I could never hate you.”
Silence followed your statement, the shivering discomfort of what your words could mean infused the atmosphere with questions Wanda didn't dare to ask. You lowered your gaze and focused completely on the sandwich that was still on the plate, and for a good half hour that was all you and Wanda did.
When there was nothing else coming in between the unfinished conversation, Wanda put her hands on the table her eyes down casted. This was actually the very first time the both of you came face to face without anyone or anything coming in between. It was a confrontation you never thought would happen about something you had always imagined. It always came with different scenarios, but the outcome had always been the same. With you finally finding peace and never looking back, and with Wanda filled with regret for what she had lost.
This conversation though was completely different. You lifted your face finding those green eyes staring back at you with longing and a deep sadness that had become characteristic of Wanda.
“How did you end up in Westview?” The question rolled out of your lips with a hint of bitterness you could not hide.
Wanda winced playing the napkin on the table, you waited until the woman started talking again.
“I found the box you hid in your room back at the Avenger's compound.” She stated simply, her lips breaking into a grimace. “I never…after you left I never went back there until after the battle with Thanos and Steve’s funeral.”
Your eyes opened lightly in realisation; you remembered the box in which you had hidden the future you hoped to share with Wanda. The ring, the map, and the picture…everything made sense now; now you understood why Wanda had chosen that place and how everything had fit at one point or another. The only thing that was out of place had been Vision, your expression hardened and Wanda could tell you were thinking about Westview the life she had created there.
“I never thought of him, you know? I went there because I wanted to…” Wanda snorted lifting her face to the ceiling, her voice trembling under the weight of the memories. “I wanted to understand, and in a way, I wanted to find a way to go back to you. Not as…I mean, I wanted to at least be…be your friend.”
You shifted on the chair hearing as Wanda finally tell you her part of the story, how she had been completely alone after coming back from the Blip. Steve’s funeral showed her just how alone she was, and how lost she really felt; she didn’t have a work or a home or even family and friends. She spent her time driving around until she decided to ask for help and went to the only person she could think of: Tony.
In all this time you could see the story behind her eyes, you could read the suffering and the deep sadness in the gestures and the words that carried with them the flashbacks of those days in which you were ignorant of Wanda’s fate.
“I went there to punish myself.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “I guess I did a good job.”
“Wanda…” You started but the words tangled in your throat, the other woman waited expectantly but after a moment her face fell.
“You don’t have to…”
“You don’t have to punish yourself anymore.” You frowned lowering your gaze to the empty dishes on the table, you were fully aware of her eyes on you. “All this time, isolating yourself while unable to reach out to anyone…then, finding yourself in Westview with this Agatha…”
Wanda swallowed down her tears, she was trembling with a flame of hope flickering inside her heart. Wanda knew she had created the world around Westview, she knew that her isolation and her grief had broken out into an explosion of her magic to create a reality she could deal with. But she also knew her magic had been tampered with, and her illusion had been corrupted.
“I never stopped thinking about you.” She whispered with her hands grabbing the chair tightly, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
You nodded standing up while making your way to where she was sitting, you offered your hand though your face never changed. For a brief moment, Wanda hesitated, she glanced at your hand and then with a trembling hand accepted it.
“They do look like us, you know?” You stated flatly, your hand warm against hers.
Wanda furrowed her brows, her tears rolling down her cheeks but her eyes gleaming in confusion.
“Why?”
“Billy and Tommy.” You stated simply. “They do look like us.”
_______________________________________
That night you sat right outside the house.
Music and conversation could be heard in the backyard, with the lights of the kitchen projecting shadows on the grass. The sky above hour head was still showered with white dots that resulted familiar yet so different to what you were used to; the air was cold but nothing you couldn’t take in a night like that one.
You took a deep breath filling your lungs with cold air, inside your mind thoughts came crashing down into a myriad of possibilities and plans yet to be executed. The conversation with Wanda had gone unexpectedly well, yet you knew a lot of things needed to be done and said before things would be okay.
“Aren’t you a little cold out here?” America crunched up her nose trying to balance the two glasses she was carrying with her.
You turned to her, chuckling before stretching a little to help her out.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a part of this great celebration?”
America shrugged offering a tiny smile, “the twins are distracted with Wanda, both of them, and the rest is just chattering around.”
“So you decided to come to me?” You shook your head taking a sip from the beverage the young woman had brought with her. “You’re crazy.”
“Not as crazy as you are.” America wrapped her hands around the glass eyeing you out of the corner of her eyes. “How are you?”
“I guess I’m okay, how about you?” You pointed with your head to the house behind you, “this is what you missed, isn’t it? Now that you are back, well…”
America nodded turning her body to yours, “I feel happy, but I also feel lost. I know that I found them again, and I have so many possibilities right now, I just…”
“Don’t know what to do?” You asked, America shrugged lowering her eyes.
“I’m finally starting to understand my powers and to get some control over them, if I keep working on them I would be able to travel without getting lost.” America let out a sigh dropping her shoulders, “those are a lot of possibilities and right now I think I need stability and keep learning.”
“Wise words, you have grown some, kiddo.” You bumped against her shoulder; the young woman blushed lightly offering a timid smile. “It may take time, but I’m pretty sure you will learn to control them.”
None of you mentioned the possibility of America finding her way back home, while it was an option it didn’t mean that America would find it once she had some control on her abilities. But for now, the young woman was happy to learn more about her powers and herself, her heart and soul finally finding a place she could call home.
“You don’t mind me coming back with you and Wanda?” America finally asked biting her lower lip while taking the last sip of her drink to her lips.
“No, I think it’s going to be fun.” You replied glancing at the young woman, “but I have to tell you right now, the training is going to be brutal.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.”
You chuckled nodding, “good.”
America straightened up tilting her head to glance at you then back at the house. You knew what the question was she wanted to ask, but you didn’t rush it.
“Are you and Wanda going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” The honesty with which you answered that surprised even you, you turned to America with a serious face. “I’m not sure what would happen, America, but I guess I’m willing to find out.”
“That’s good, right?”
You shrugged, and the young woman went back to rest her head on your shoulder still highly confused by your answer. The sound of laughter, music and conversation filling out the sudden silence that embrace the both of you, your thoughts coming back to Wanda and the day you had spent with her.
Only time would tell what would happen next, and you were waiting anxiously what would happen next.
_______________________________
Billy and Tommy were talking non-stop, they were excited showing Wanda the latest project they had been working on back at school. The young woman could hardly hold her tears while letting her children talk to her about school and their lives as if she had always been there.
At first, it had hurt.
Wanda knew they were not hers, and yet she couldn’t help but love them and see them with the same eyes she had seen the twins back in her universe. A part of her never thought she would see Billy and Tommy again, the moment the illusion had fallen around her and she discovered what she had done to Westview she knew there wouldn’t be a way for her to recover her children.
Yet here they were.
In another world, in another universe looking the same as she had imagined them once.
This time around everything was as it was supposed to be, with you by her side raising two children being a happy family. A part of Wanda felt envy for everything her counterpart had and she couldn’t have.
“Are you sure you can’t have a family of your own?”
Wanda huffed turning to the source of the voice, her counterpart stood right beside her with softened eyes staring at the twins that were getting ready for bed. Wanda dropped her arms to her sides, her eyes glancing back into the room then back to the woman standing beside her.
“I’m pretty sure, she…” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself furrowing her brows, “she doesn’t love me anymore. I am nothing more than…and ally, and even that would be to stretch out our relationship.”
The other Wanda pursed her lips, she stepped closer never letting go of those green eyes she was so familiar with.
“You don’t believe that.” Wanda stated holding back a smile when the other woman stepped back scowling.
“I have to believe it, I can’t…” Wanda sighed lifting her chin to the ceiling holding back her weakness, she didn’t want the twins to see her cry. “I have to believe it or I will break my heart once more and I can’t lose control of my magic, I…last time it didn’t go well.”
The room filled with laughter, Billy ran to the bed jumping up and down with Tommy trying to follow up before falling down on his face. Wanda couldn’t help but gasp ready to help out but stopping when a gentle hand wrapped tenderly on her forearm. It was strange to see herself staring at her looking the same yet being so different than she was.
The twins were back in the game, falling on bed while discussing some subject Wanda couldn’t hear pretty well. The fall was soon forgotten and both of them were ready to go to sleep.
“Go on, you can put them to be and I will wait for you here.”
“Thank you.” Wanda whispered to her counterpart entering the room and going to Billy first.
The woman offered a shaky smile, her trembling hand brushing away his dark hair while her lips curved into a smile. Billy smiled back blinking slowly.
“Are you okay, mom?”
Wanda nodded leaning in placing a single kiss on his forehead, “more than okay, Billy. Have a good night, baby.”
“Good night, mommy.”
Then, Wanda went to Tommy who was looking at her differently, he wrapped his arms around her hugging her tightly and this time around she couldn’t help but cry.
“I love you, mom.”
“I love you too, Tommy, now go to sleep.” Once more she placed a kiss on Tommy’s forehead and with that she stepped back walking towards the door. “Sleep well, guys.”
“Night, mom!”
The door close behind her, and Wanda stood there allowing herself the goodbye she had longed to have with the twins. She tried to give the right closure to her emotions knowing full well she would go back a world in which she would be all alone. No twins, no Y/N, only her.
“Thank you.” Wanda whispered locking her eyes with those of her counterpart, the other woman nodded curtly.
“I knew it was important for you.” The woman hesitated for a moment before continuing, “but you shouldn’t lose any hope, Wanda. You and Y/N…”
“Don’t, please.” Wanda said softly. “Don’t give me hope, don’t tell me it is possible because…god, I’ve been breaking my heart over and over again and I just…I can’t take it anymore.”
“Then don’t let it go, don’t let it go without a fight.”
Wanda lifted her face to see her counterpart dead serious, the woman came closer wrapping her hands on her forearms making sure Wanda could not look away.
“You love her, and I am pretty sure she loves you as well, whatever happened in the past it shall stay there.” Wanda then softened letting go of her grip. “Don’t give up just yet, you may be surprised.”
Wanda wanted to talk, she wanted to believe but at the moment she was just tired and overwhelmed by everything that had happened, everything she had lived up to that point. She was overwhelmed by the fact that you were so close to her yet so far away, that she would go back to a world in which the twins were not there and she would be, once more, alone.
________________________________________
It was a sunny day.
America went over the contents of her backpack, her body was tingling all over while a void filled with butterflies settled in her lower abdomen. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath, her hands trembling while she secured the zipper on the backpack.
“You look nervous, you know you don’t have to go, right?” Y/N came into the room glancing around before settling her eyes on America, the young woman turned around offering a tiny smile.
“I know.” She replied shrugging, her hands played with the band on her wrist she tried to look everywhere but at Y/N but at the end of the day she couldn’t help it, she lifted her face and let the tears fall down.
“I’m sorry.” America whispered waiting for a recrimination on her part, for Y/N to finally tell her how bad she had messed up the first time she had fallen on their Universe.
But it never came, nor from her or Wanda, or anyone for that matter. America surrendered to the warm embrace of Y/N’s arms, she let the tears and sobs she had been holding to scape and finally liberated her mind of the guiltiness she had been feeling all this time.
“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” Y/N whispered soothingly her hand drawing circles with a half-smile showing on her face.
“I just…I shouldn’t have run the way I did, I should have fight or something.” America replied, leaning back, she was furrowing her brows while lifting her hands. “I could have stayed and helped around.”
“It wasn’t optional, though. You had to keep going to survive, that’s rule number one in this line of work, America.” Y/N put her hands on her pockets, her hair falling to the side with an easy smile adorning her lips. “You did what you have to at that point and no one should ever blame you for that. If it hadn’t been that way well, I wouldn’t be here telling the story.”
America doubted very much that it would have happened in such a way, but she would never really know it for certain. Ever since she started travelling through universes consciously she had learnt to deal with the different realities, trying to adapt to them and survive them. She never thought she would settle in a single universe, much less that she would get attach to the people in it.
The sound of conversation broke the sudden silence in the room, the twins laughing with Pietro and Wanda yelling for everyone to go to the backyard was the signal America had been waiting for. She stepped closer to give Y/N one last hug.
“Thank you for everything you did for me, Y/N. I couldn’t say this the last time due to the circumstances…”
“Us running for our lives?” Y/N chimed in chuckling, America snorted rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, that, I mean you guys received me in your home and gave me a chance to a family, I just..I will always carry that with me.”
Y/N softened while giving the teen another hug, “anytime kid, you are welcome in our household whenever you decided to come back.”
“I know, I just think I am needed it elsewhere.”
“I think so to.” Y/N stepped back glancing to the open door. “Watch over them, make sure that they are okay.”
“I will.” America smiled grabbing her backpack ready to go.
It was almost midday by the time America and Y/n came out of the house.
The backyard was full with Tony and Loki working around the logistics and the twins just running around between the two Wanda’s and everyone else. You stood by the garden, the conversation that Loki was having with Tony, Wong, Hank and America had lost all meaning as you entertained yourself with the last sight of the world that could have been. Your body was completely tensed, your eyes drifting around until they fell on the form of Wanda, your Wanda.
“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, you turned to her shaking your head.
“Were you?”
“No, I was never ready whenever she was around.” Y/N replied shrugging, “but once we had made our mind there was nothing that could stop us.”
You snorted nodding, “that’s right.”
“Are you going to fight?” Y/N stepped closer, her eyes going from you to Wanda then back again.
“I am going to make things right, I’m not sure if they will end up the same way it did here.” You replied placing your hands inside your pockets. “I guess only time will tell.”
Y/N nodded stretching her right hand to you, an easy smile forming on her lips.
“I hope everything goes well for you and Wanda, Y/N, just remember what’s really important.” Y/N said grabbing your hand with a friendly squeezed. “Please, be happy.”
“Protect them and be for them whenever they need you.” You replied squeezing back.
“I will.”
“Well, I guess we can try the portal once more, are you guys ready? Did you say your good-byes?” Tony clapped before rubbing his hands, everyone went to get in position until the cries of two boys reached them over.
Tommy and Billy came running with Wanda following them close behind, Billy went directly to Wanda wrapping his arms around her while Tommy went to you.
“I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled looking up at you.
You chuckled ruffling his hair playfully, “I doubt it, pal. You have your mom’s here, but I am gonna miss you.”
“Say hi to your Tommy for me, please? Tell him he has the best mom in the whole universe!”
Those words pierced deeply inside your heart, but the innocence and the smile in Tommy’s face made you held back any reaction that wasn’t one of agreement.
“I will, Tommy, be good.”
At the other side of the yard Wanda and Billy were having a similar conversation, Wanda hugged him tightly before trying to let go. Billy called to her, looking around before wrapping his arms around Wanda’s neck, his lips close to her ear.
“Everything is gonna be okay, mommy, don’t worry, mom will come around.” Billy offered a toothy grin to Wanda who was too shocked to talk. “say hi to your billy for me, love you mom!”
Wanda watched as Billy joined his brother right beside their mother, Wanda locked eyes with her counterpart who offered a half smile and a vision Wanda Maximoff would not talk about until several years later. For now, she was just filled with doubts, and hopes, and uncertainties and soon Wanda was drowned by the voices surrounding her.
“Okay, this shouldn’t be that difficult, everyone remembers their roles?” Loki asked once more standing to the side while pointing at America who rolled her eyes.
“I do, I remember.”
“Good, because if you fail the three of you are going to be traveling around without a proper destination and probably die a horrible dead.”
“That’s so comforting, Loki.” You replied rolling your eyes. 2Stop scaring America and do your job.”
Loki rolled his eyes flickering his hands while putting the golden book out of thin air, he sat down crossing his legs while looking to an invisible spot in front of him.
“Very well, your timeline is not that hard to find, it is the only one with a latent anomaly.”
“How can you tell is ours and not a random one?”
Loki glared at you before going back to his work, “I can sense it, and this one lack something, it is missing something, I guess that would be both of you.”
Soon everyone was taking positions, Wanda stood beside you shifting from one foot to the other, her hands wiggling nervously while she tried to keep her eyes right ahead of herself. You could sense her uneasiness, her hands twitching biting her lower lip. America came forward, she was showing off a frown filled with confusion that Tony helped erased with a whispered explanation.
You eyed Wanda out of the corner of your eyes, the woman was completely tensed still bouncing trying to hold onto something but unable to find herself at ease. You doubted it for a moment before you grabbed her hand in yours.
Her hand was warm and soft, at first she was completely tensed and rigid but as soon as she sensed it was you her hand started to relax and give in the feeling.
“It’s gonna be okay.” You whispered; Wanda offered a smile nodding.
“I know.” Wanda knew that as long as you kept holding her hand everything would be okay, she didn’t dare to say anything else but in a bold move she spread her fingers and soon her hand was intertwined with yours.
You jerked around but Wanda was completely focused on America, after a moment of hesitation you straightened up frowning lightly though your hand clasped tenderly Wanda’s hand.
“Okay, it was nice meeting you all, now let’s begin.” Loki closed his eyes and soon the golden light of his magic started gleaming powerfully forming a tight circle that surrounded you and Wanda alongside America.
America could feel the power, she was sensing it through her muscles and her fingertips while her mind became a mask of pure blankness trying to form an idea. She remembered the lesson, to follow the magic around her while also joining her energy with that of Wanda and Y/N, her power running through her arm in electric jolts and then igniting her eyes until she was finally ready to make it explode.
Pulling her arm back, closing her fist America stretched her arm hitting the space in between her and the backyard creating an explosion in the form of a Star. The portal opened until it was as big as America, you peeked in watching the white plains of Norway, or at least that was what you thought.
With a last glance to your counterpart and Wanda, you squeezed the hand you were holding tenderly.
“Ready?” It was all you could say before the young woman nodded and with a single step she dragged you right through the portal.
The world you three had left behind was waiting for you.
And you were not sure what would happen next, the only thing you knew for certain was that you didn’t want to let go of the hand holding yours.
The portal closed behind the three of you leaving everyone behind with many questions and little to no answers.
Billy and Tommy hugged Wanda still glancing the place where the portal had been moments ago. The woman glanced at her children knowing there was something bothering greatly.
“Mommy, do you think they will love us?” Tommy asked lifting his face to Wanda, Wanda furrowed her brows tilting her head.
“What do you mean, baby?”
Billy scrunched up his nose, “You think they will love Billy and Tommy the way you love us?”
Wanda softened at the question; she knelt in front of her boys not really knowing how to explain that in their world they both didn’t even exist.
“Billy, I’m pretty sure that they would be very lucky to have children like the both of you, and they would absolutely love you very much.” This answer seemed to satisfy the boys, and just when Wanda thought the topic was over Tommy talked again.
“They are gonna love us very much, mommy.” Tommy smiled snugging closer to Wanda. “Just like they love one another very much, that’s how you and mommy made us, right?”
Wanda didn’t answer, but a part of her certainly hope that Tommy was not wrong. She had always hoped that her love for you would survive in every universe, Wanda lifted her face to see Y/N looking at her with tenderness and love, and Wanda knew right there and then that her counterpart would be okay.
You never stopped looking at her like that, you just learnt how to hide it pretty well.
You were still pretty much in love with your Wanda.
And now that you were gone with her, only time would tell if love was still possible.
Wanda sighed wishing you would let go of your resentment and doubts and give yourself and her counterpart a chance.
With a last glance to the space where you and the others had been standing, Wanda turned around hopeful that the past would stay in the past.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next Chapter: You are finally back to your universe, everything seems surreal as you and the others are taken to interrogation rooms before resuming your normal lives. Carol doesn't want to leave your side, and Wanda knows she needs to step aside even though that's the last thing she wants to do.
#fanfic#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wandaxreader#female reader#imagine wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x female reader
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
Suffer Pt. 6 | Lucifer x Reader
The first parts! ;) Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5
A single anon request and a 56-page Google doc later, this is the last part, my friends. Thanks to everyone who's been so invested in this, this turned into a bigger project than I thought it would lol But! I'm so glad everyone's been enjoying it, and I hope y'all like the ending! I'm sorry for all the cliffhangers along the way haha (not really)
An extra thank you to the anon who requested a simple babysitter fic and ended up inspiring this whole deal!
♡♡♡
It’s almost been a year since you arrived to the hotel. You arrived when the building was in less than pristine condition, and just a few new guests had arrived. It was a few days after you saw Charlie’s interview on the news, that being what brought you in, despite it’s failure. You were just happy to see her face after all that time. Yet, above the cluttered space and the holes in the walls, there was a more malevolent scheme being hatched.
Any soul who might pass the princess’s room would be bombarded by curses, screams, and growls that sounded less than human. So, most the hotel residents decide it best to avoid that corridor. But not our trusty hotelier. His hand reached for the handle, after deciding that making a bold entrance might not be the best idea. His motion was put to a quick halt by a flurry of curses coming from the other side of the door. Alastor didn’t realize Charlie held such a..colorful vocabulary. Despite that, he went on.
He was greeted with a sight that, unfortunately, wasn’t new to him. An intricate web of red thread connected to pins, all scattered across a once pristine wall. It all connects a collage of images, some that he recognized, some that looked like nonsensical scribbles. The view is obstructed by a furiously pacing princess of Hell. Mumbling completely incoherent complaints, she doesn't notice the opening and closing of her bedroom door.
Alastor, being the sadist he is, props his stance with his microphone, his forced smile unmoving. He enjoys the view for a moment before finally clearing his throat to bring her attention to him. She nearly stumbles over her own feet, ready to scold him for materializing into her room, despite the fact that she was just too out of it to see him walk straight in.
“Al! Good! I need another pair of eyes, come here, come here, look!” She approaches him faster than he expects, and he’s ready to reel away, but is unfortunately hooked around the neck with Charlie’s disturbing strength. With an arm around his shoulders, she drags him forward to examine the wall, as if it made sense to anyone other than her. She starts talking nonsense, again. Something about friendship and Heaven, things he never really cared about. Things he usually tuned out whenever they came up. He only seems to partake in the conversation once he heard your name.
“Alastor.. She’s one of our first guests. I honestly can’t believe anyone showed up after that terrible interview I had earlier, I’m worried i’ll mess things up, again! I mean, all of Hell already thinks i’m a joke.. I just- really need this to go well.” Her mood seems to calm, but to a state of despair. Alastor let’s out a symphahetic awe, patting the top of her head.
“Aw, our poor princess. I understand your concern, my dear, this hotel must mean quite a lot to you.” He faines a sympathy that only convinces Charlie because of her state of disarray.
“Of course it does! And she’s already so kind, I’m sure she’s close to redemption! Maybe this will be a quick one! A-and we don’t even know it, right? That has to be it!” She seems to be reassuring herself, only to be met with an unresponsive radio demon. She groans. Dragging her feet as she walks to the edge of bed, She sits down and lets her head fall into her hands.
“I really need this to work. I’ll do anything for this to work..” It was a quiet mumble, muffled into her palms, but Alastor heard exactly what he wanted to hear. His grin twisted, something Charlie didn’t see, as he sits at her side. He gives her a quick pat to her back, in some form of comfort.
“Charlie, dear, I understand how much this little project means to you.. I do. And I want nothing more than to witness you trying as hard as you can to keep it up.” Even if it fails. Charlie looks up to him, the bags under her eyes suddenly very apparent. “How would you feel about a little deal? Just a small one, no souls on the line, I guarantee.”
She’s been warned by Vaggie in the past. Actually, his entire reputation is enough to make her uneasy by the idea. but…
“I-I don’t know. What did you have in mind..?” She asks reluctantly. He let’s out a chuckle that almost sounds sinister.
“Believe it or not, our little guest and I have a bit of a history.” You can barely call it a history. You served him and Rosie on occasion when you were working in cannibal town. “I’d be delighted to oversee her safety and process to redemption! It’s just as you said, she’s already a gem, Heaven is waiting for her, I can feel it. This will be a breeze for the both of us.” His offer comes off as sincere and touching to Charlie. It wasn’t like him to openly mention his relationships with other demons yet, the idea of you having a close friend throughout this process might just be what you’re missing.
“That’s so sweet of you, Alastor, but.. What do you want from me?” She has to ponder a moment before even considering letting this go on any further.
“Well, you’ve given me a roof over my head and.. A tower for my broadcasts.. Hmm..” He taps his chin, as if he’s in thought. “I’m not quite sure I’ll need from you at the moment, since you’ve just been so hospitable already.” He places a hand to her shoulder, the kind words causing her eyes to well with tears a bit in her weakened state.
“There has to be something.. Well, maybe we can both think this over, once I have a clear head.” She sighs her words, standing from the bedside. Alastor takes her hand and brings her to a halt.
“Oh, but I’d love to get to work as soon as possible, if I may be so bold.. I’m not quite sure what you could offer me in this moment… How about we work out the details, later?” He speaks as if he’s coming up with these words on the spot. He’s had this planned since day one, though. Any chance to get a favor from the princess, he’ll take. Charlie turns to him and sees the strange green glow surrounding their hands. She attempts to pull away, but his grasp is tight.
“Well.. I mean…” She’s still hesitant. He watches her rub her eyes. The still relevant exhaustion gives him a bit of hope.
“It’s simple. I’ll do everything in my power to keep our little guest comfortable and on the path to redemption, no acception. In return, I’ll ask of you one single favor when the time comes.” The glow only continues to swell with his words, and it's clearly making her reconsider. “It’s not as serious as you may think, Charlie. Just a favor between friends, really.” Friendship seemed to strike the right tone.
“I guess.. If it’s for the hotel… Okay, Alastor. It’s a deal.”
-
Back to the dreaded fight just a few months later. You're seeing red.
“Charlie! You made a deal with Alastor?? What were you thinking?” You’re scolding her at this point. The situation barely had time to cool down before your worries began to kick in. Her horns and ruby eyes are still present, she hasn’t even had time to calm herself from the previous display. Lucifer is essentially holding you back, a hand across your front as you try to approach her. It hurts you a bit. Does he think you’re some kind of danger to her?
..Are you putting her in danger?
Alastor is still propped on the ground. He holds a hand around his neck, in hopes of soothing the aggressive collar that had materialized around it just moments ago. You’re all keeping your distance from eachother.
“I-I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking! It was after the interview! You saw it, you know didn’t go well! I-I had all of Hell laughing at me, laughing at the hotel- He was offering help, I have no idea why he’s acting this way, I swear..! I.. I-” Charlie’s demonic features start to recede when she feels a hand on her back. With heavy breaths, she looks over to Lucifer, who was standing by her side now, ready to comfort her. With a small hiccup, she falls into his arms, gripping his shirt tightly as she did. Her head fell to his shoulder, thoroughly staining his vest with her tears.
The room is uncomfortably filled with her silent sobs. Your heart aches too much looking at the touching display between father and daughter, and your guilt from snapping at her is making you fidget. That’s when you got to thinking.
The deal was for Alastor watch over you until you got to Heaven. For him to do anything in his power to keep you on the path to redemption. To prevent any behavior that might stunt that process..
“Oh.. oh, my god. You’ve been buttering me up this whole time.” You turn to face a still recovering Alastor. The realization grabs the attention of both Morningstars, they raise their heads to look towards the commotion. “The gifts, all the time we spent together.. Was because of this deal? Did.. did you ever actually care about me?” You grip at your heart, ready to rip it straight from your chest. He stands, brushing debris from his entirety.
“I doubt you’ll believe me after such a display of violence, but.. Yes. I did enjoy our time together, despite the requisite of being under my protection. It was quite entertaining before it was… tainted.” His hisses out his final words, contrasting the sweetness of it all. Tainted?
He was kind to you as soon as you arrived in the hotel. Despite the drama, you’ve been inseparable since. Things only got convoluted after..
“Under your protection..? Is that why you’ve been turning me away from Lucifer?! Fuck- it is! You’ve been playing games with me for months! Getting in my head..! H-How could you..” He hasn’t just been physically keeping the two of you apart. From day one, your mind was manipulated into thinking Lucifer never wanted you.
“Well.. not to defend myself, dear, but I was merely considering your redemption. I believe there’s some sort of sin in worshipping the Devil.” Oh, now he’s just trying to make more trouble.
“Oh, fuck you Al, I don’t worship him, I love him!” Your comical response seems to drive a shocked expression or two towards you. But you’re too upset to elaborate. You want to tear him apart. You want to see him experience as much pain as you’re feeling now. Luckily, you weren’t the only one. In a blur of a movement, Alastor was brought back to the ground with a thud.
A foot to his chest, Charlie has him pinned to the ground. Her fists are clenched, the aura surrounding her creates a suffocating heat.
“You took advantage of me, Alastor. You betrayed my friends, my family.. My trust.” Despite the demonic tones underlying her voice, it still sounds pained. You didn’t know she could do this, but her clenched fists become encased in fire. Just like her fathers’.
You’re surprised to see him lurking behind, but not attacking. After all you’ve seen, you were sure he’d have ripped Alastor’s head off at this point. His eyes widen, a display of fear you werent expecting. You follow his gaze to see Charlie holding a familiar angelic spear to his neck.
You hear an unearthly growl come from her chest, and before you can think, your arm is wrapped around hers. You can feel the resistance, realizing you had stopped her right as she was about to put an end to it all. Put an end to him.
“Charlie! Stop!” You yell out. You have to do it once or twice more, your words not quite reaching her yet. Once she turns to you, her eyes are still dripping with tears. “Charlie, don’t. This isn’t you. You’ll regret it, I know you will.. I know you.” You’re begging her to stop. As you feel the muscles in her arm start to relax, you reach for the spear and pull it gently from her hands. She releases her grasp without a fight.
You usher her off, glancing back to Alastor for a moment to see his wound had reopened from that. He had an obvious slash across his neck. You gulped, realizing how close she was to actually killing him. She places her hand over yours, where your arms are still linked.
Charlie let’s out a sigh, looking to her shaking hands, then clenching her fists. She looks to you, then back to Alastor.
“But.. everything he’s done to you… It’s not right, I’m not sure I can forgive him..” She’s speaking quietly to you.
“Well.. You don’t have to forgive him. But he doesn't deserve to die, Charlie.” You state the obvious and it makes her flinch. “And.. you should let him stay.” You hear a collective What? from the room.
“I know I know.. but… this whole place is about second chances. I.. think he can change. And even though, he is being such a dick right now-” Your voice is cracking, as if you can hardly believe your own words. “-I still believe it. You taught me that.” You smile up to Charlie. After a moment you turn your head to Lucifer, meeting his eyes. He looks more in shock than anyone, almost hurt by your act of mercy. You’re surprised by his expression, not realizing Charlie had slipped from your side to approach Alastor.
“She’s right, you know. I can’t forgive you, Alastor. Not yet, at least.. But you’re welcome to stay here, considering all the help you’ve done for the hotel.” She sounds stern, still not entirely convinced this is the right call.
“Yeah, some help you’ve been, you prick..” Those are the first words Lucifer has muttered in awhile. You approach his side to jab him with your elbow and shush him. Despite your scolding action, your presence only reminds him of your previous confession. He crosses his arms and continues to curse quietly, despite his flushed cheeks. Charlie steps closer to Alastor.
“You’re still here, because of her.” Charlie’s voice goes dark as she gestures to you. “That favor I owe you? Is letting you live. This deal is done, Alastor.” She hisses her words out. The intensity and anger radiating from two of the most powerful creatures in Hell is enough to leave even Alastor a bit weary. He nods, still gripping his wound that has been repeatedly opened these past few days. Other than that, he slinks away with barely a scratch. Lucky him.
Once he’s out of sight, Charlie let’s out a groan and falls to her knees. With a unison call of her name both you and Lucifer rush to her side. You place a hand on her back, attempting to keep any displaced hair from her face. She leans into Lucifer’s chest, a heartaching sight of sniffles and apologies.
Before long, she seemed to exhaust herself. Curled up to his chest, Lucifer smiles, despite the circumstances of their closeness. He lifts his eyes just slightly to see yours. You look embarrassed. Before he has a chance to question you, you rise from the ground.
“You should take her to bed.” You say in a hushed tone, gripping your arms and making some distance. “She needs some rest after.. all that.”
“Sure, but.. are you-” He speaks just as softly, opening a portal behind him silently.
“I’m fine. I’m-” You let out a sigh, beginning to move towards the stairs. “She needs to rest, Lucifer.” You remind him.
“Oh- Oh.. Right, yeah.” He rises to his feet, effortlessly lifting Charlie into his arms and stepping through the portal. You try to keep moving. You try to not meet his eyes as the portal shuts, but you find yourself unable to go on. Once they’re gone, you cover your mouth, only making your labored breaths worse, but you’re desperate to muffle any cries. You feel yourself wobble in place, before seeing a portal open to your side. It leads to your room.
After stepping through, you silently approach your bed. Your legs suddenly turn led, and you're hitting your bed with a gasp. Your exhaustion is enough to keep your sobs to a minimum at least.
-
The feeling you have when you wake up is worse than any hangover you’ve had. With alcohol you can at least forget your troubles. But on this morning, you can vividly remember the previous night. You sit up, your body aching. You only wonder why for a moment, before realizing you had fallen asleep sideways across your bed, your legs still dangling off the side. You still need sleep.
You remove any uncomfortable clothing or accessories that had pressed marks into your body and return to bed. The right way, this time. Your pillows feel like heaven after all that’s happened. Heaven..
You try your best to sleep, you really do. Your body is essentially begging you to empty your thoughts just for a few more minutes. But your mind is sending you tossing and turning, any times you close your eyes, all you can imagine is everything you've done wrong. Your eyes drift open after trying to force them shut, and your eyes spot the radio on your nightstand. You sit silently for a moment, maybe try to close your eyes again..
Nope.
Before you have a chance to process every movement, you’re opening your door and thoughtlessly throwing the radio outside. You don’t care where it ends up, clearly. You were waiting to hear it break, into multiple pieces hopefully, before shutting your door. You’re met with a startled groan instead. Taking a moment to process that you had thrown an old-timey radio at someone, you stand at your door with a yawn.
The panic hits you. It could’ve been Alastor, assuming he stayed. It could’ve been Charlie, who doesn’t need any more conflict. You could’ve taken out Niffty as far as you know. Swinging the door open, your eyes see the radio first. They’re wrapped in your victim’s arms.
“Good catch.” You let out hoarsly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to clearly see Lucifer.. It could've been worse. He let’s out a breathless thanks, clearly having the air knocked out of him. You definitely didn’t hold back with that throw. And it wasn’t exactly a lightweight radio.
“Er.. Sorry. I meant to say sorry.” You try to recover, your words are followed by another yawn. You watch him drop the radio into a small portal he conjured below his grip.
“Good morning to you, too. I was, uh.. about to check on charlie, but-” He’s ready for a conversation that you aren’t. You quickly shake your head, pulling your door in.
“Nono, I need some time.. To wake up. I’ll see you around, though.” You didn’t expect him to perk up from his words, but he does. His smile is infectious. You watch him give you a little wave before shutting your door. You lean against it, your smile that you had been presenting to him, leaves you almost immediately.
There’s so much on your mind. You scan your room, memories of Alastor popping up no matter where you looked. Every chat you’ve had in here, every moment you’d call him in for advice for clothes or accessories, all the nights you’d fall asleep listening to his voice. Your eyes stopped at your vanity seat. Draped across the back is a bittersweet sight, your gifted red sweater. You finally rise to your feet, quickly reaching for it and holding it tightly in your hands. You hesitate before bringing it to your nose. You’re not sure why. Why would you want to remind yourself of anything involving him? Did you think that same scent that’s brought you comfort so many times would have the same affect? You give it a shot.
Hesitantly breathing in, you’re immediately reeling back, throwing the sweater down to your ground. Your hand covers your nose, that sickenlingly sweet honey scent now smells like rotten flesh. Like road kill. You need some air. Digging out a different sweater, one you haven’t had to use in months, you decide you just need to walk around for a bit. The hotel was big enough that you could safely avoid any unwanted attention. Plus, you were sure Alastor’s pride was too wounded to freely roam the hotel. And his other wound.. You hope he’s okay.
You groan out loud, mentally cursing yourself for your sympathetic thoughts. You make your way down to the lobby, and are met with a surprisingly clean lounge. You scan the walls that were previously cracked, the carpets that should be stained with blood, then wonder where Vaggie’s suddenly conjured spear might have gone. What would have possessed Charlie to choose such a weapon.. an angelic spear? She didnt really want him dead, did she? She's emotional. And extreme. Like her father. You decide not to question it any further. It’s not like you were upset by the erasure of the previous night's events.
-
A day or two passed. Your mind seemed unwilling to accept the reality you're currently in. You're anxious, and paranoid to any sentence thrown your way. You're constantly looking around corners, checking all parts if your room before locking it for the night. Yet, if someone were to ask what was making you so nervous, you wouldn’t have an answer.
You found yourself taking those little strolls often, though. Keeping your body in motion, with only the sounds of your breathing keeping you company, seemed to clear your mind. It never helped come to terms with any seething pain you felt, but it cleared your mind at the least.
You'd pieced together a few things in the meantime. After passing the bar, where Angel and Husk were chatting, they would smile and wave, ask you join them form a drink, but you’d decline. Neither of them seemed to know about anything. Maybe Niffty cleaned the mess. Maybe Alastor asked her to. Before anyone could see the outcome of his mistakes.
You passed Vaggie in a hall, and she immediately looked concerned. She opened her mouth, an Are you okay? sits on the tip of her tongue. But then she looked at you. Your body only mirrored the fog of your mind, baggy eyed and wrapped in some blanket as you roamed the halls like a damned ghost.
“Hey, um- it's.. it's gonna be-" you held your hand up to her.
“I know. Thank you.” You smile, the action stiff, considering you hadn't used those muscles in awhile. Vaggie knew. That was fair, though. You were glad Charlie had someone to confide with. You walked on after she gave a hesitant goodbye wave.
One night, when your body had taken over and you were wandering aimlessly, you realized where you ended up. Not only were you standing in front of Lucifer's workshop, he had already spotted you through the window on the door. He opened it before you could fully take in your surroundings.
“Hey..” You let out softly. What else are you supposed to say? You didn’t come prepared. You feel embarrassed standing in front of him, realizing how much of a mess you must look. You're not even sure what part of your mind made you end up here.
He doesn't respond at first, another speechless moment letting your mind wander. He opens the door more, offering his space to you. You look at him and he smiles before you shuffle inside. You take in the sight. You haven't actually seen it, considering your circumstances after the hotel was renovated.
“It looks nice in here.” You say quietly, your voice cracking just a bit. You walk through, tracing your fingers along desks and tables, stopping and looking at family photos on occasion. You looked to Lucifer’s smiling face in a picture where he was lovingly holding his wife and daughter. How did you end up like this?
“Oh- um.. thank you, it's more than enough space for me, but, uh.. it's nice.” His voice sounds unfamiliar as it snaps you from your mindset. He moves to his main bench, which is slightly elevated by a platform that connects to the windowed wall. You eventually make your way around, standing near him.
“Are.. you… How are you..?” You listen to him struggle to form such a simple question, and yet you have an equally hard time trying to respond. Obviously, you were crushed. devastated by the betrayal and overwhelmed by everything else.
“I'm okay.” You reply thoughtlessly. It was your go-to answer. You hear a muffled chuckle and look over to him. He's blocking the laughter with his fist in front of his lips. Is he laughing at you?
“Sorry sorry, I just.. know that you're lying. You've done this before, don't forget how much time I've actually spent with you.” You want to scold him for acting so bold, for saying he knows you better than yourself, but..
You're leaning against the table in one moment, and before you know it, you're hoisted to sit on its top. You felt like a relief you didn't realize. Your feet were aching. How long were you walking the in the halls today? The sensation of his hands planted on your waist. to steadily bring you to the counter, lingered after he had removed them.
“I used to see you wandering around back home- at the mansion, I mean. usually after a tough day. But it's been a few days, so I just thought you might be-”
“Why are you so calm?” Your sudden question made him visibly finch. "You were tricked, too, you know. He tore us apart. How can you be handling this so well?” Your voice starts to turn agitated. You weren't sure why you were taking it out on himm, but you both knew in the moment that this was the first time you’ve let any emotion out since the fight.
“It's like some.. malevolent force is constantly tearing us apart. One moment I'm happy, I'm in love, I'm smiling- then the next, you're just gone. and everything else that keeps me sane goes with it.” You feel a flood of tears beginning to well. Tears that you should've been letting out days ago. “Is this some kind of fucking curse? Why can’t things just be easy..? A-Are we just doomed?” You're wiping your face clear, your words becoming sloppy and hoarse.
“Maybe.” Your head lifts to see him, still calm as before, but with a solemn look on his face. “But, we keep finding eachother, right? And all the good times.. they'll stay good, won’t they?” You nod your head reluctantly.
He approaches you, with a hand on your shoulder, he's wiping away tears with the other.
“Honestly? I'm not handling this well at all. You're right, the universe has done nothing but tear us apart and hurt both of us. And I’m just about ready to tear Alastor limb by limb. I want Charlie to be okay.. I want to keep you by my side and never let you out of my sight this time.” You see his emotions range throughout his words, his eyes flashing red for a moment. He calms himself down, running his hand down your arm to hold your hand. You don't resist.
“But, you made some good points back there. And I just thought.. if you're strong enough to let that prick live, after everything, then.. Maybe I-I.. I'm trying to be strong.” He sounds almost embarrassed to admit it, and the comment on your strength leaves you a bit red in the cheeks. “You've always been so strong, darling. I just wish you'd tell me how you're really feeling.. I miss talking to you. Not this.. empty shell.” His words stung and he knew it as soon as they slipped from his lips.
“W-wait, no, I mean..”
“It’s fine, you're not wrong.. Jerk.” You share a little laugh with him, the mood lightening for just a moment. “Lucifer, I'm.. I'm so tired.” You let out weakly. That barely scratches the surface of everything. It's as if your mind was boiling over, with all the thoughts of Alastor turning sour, and the thoughts of redemption suddenly in question, not to mention all those feelings of Lucifer that were repressed until just recently. You want Charlie to be okay. You want things to be normal, but.. you're not quite sure what normal looks like. You wish you could say all this to him.. it’s hard to put it to words. But you're trying. He makes you want to try harder.
You feel a gentle hand holding your cheek, bringing your blurred thoughts to clarity and meeting eyes that left you breathless. When was the last time you've looked in his eyes? A blush forms across his cheeks, your gaze seems to fluster him. He clears his throat, getting his mind back.
“You're not okay. But.. You will be. I promise.” With a wry smile, you let the weight of your head fall into his palm.
Your eyes meet. He leans in and you feel his arms snake around yout waist. Looking back, you're almost embarrassed by the way you leaned towards him, eyes shut, head tilted, your lips just slightly parted. You were startled by the feeling of his head resting on your shoulder. He only pulls you closer after he feels your breath start to deepen, his hands gentle across your back. You finally return his touch, digging your nose into the crook of his neck and gripping tightly at his shirt.
It used to feel like, if you let go, you'll never hold him again. God, how the possibility scares you. But.. it feels a little different this time. You weren’t worried about him disappearing, this time.
You’re so comforted by his presence, you let yourself fully relax to him. You open your eyes just slightly, blinking out some tears that still remained, thoroughly ruining his top. You pull away, meeting his eyes again.
You feel as if you were close to forgetting this side of him, but you recognize this face. You saw it the night you first kissed him. You saw it after seeing him at the hotel for the first time, then when he decided to sweep you off your feet for a little date. You saw it after every little date that followed. You realize he's never stopped looking at you this way.
“I love you, too.”
-
I had to put that worship the devil in there it just made me laugh so sorry if that seemed out of place lol
And not to fear my friends,
I plan on making a little epilogue about how everyone's recovering, and some sweet, yummy, fluffy goodness to top it off.
Again, Thank you all so much for your support! :)
I'll be working on some requests next, and some more vamp Luci! Kind of in love with that guy ngl
Taglist! (good lord I hope I got everybody )
( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness
@misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @wendigonamecaller / @chirimeimei / @sapphireravensworld / @sillywormtrixareforkids
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#lucifer morningstar#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#lucifer hazbin#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel fan fiction#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin fanfiction#hazbin fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fic#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
BABY TRAPPED PART 2 — dark!rafe x fem reader
summary: you finally gain the courage to tell rafe the news, but things turn aggressive once you find out he replaced your birth control pills.
warnings: teenage pregnancy, mentions of forced pregnancy, fighting, arguing, manipulating, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, blackmailing, choking, toxic!rafe, dark!rafe
: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ PART 1
some days later, you gain the courage to tell rafe. you stayed up most nights thinking for hours about what to say, and how to say it. you rehearsed hundreds of different ways in your head, but all of them terrified you.
was he going to be happy? was he going to be angry? you had no idea.
you sit on your bed, staring at rafe’s contact number on your phone. you’d been staring at it for the past 5 minutes, being too anxious to call him. ‘i need to get it over and done with’ you thought to yourself.
and with that thought in your head, your thumb presses on the call button. your breathing sped up, and your fear sank in as you watch it ring. seconds later, he picks up.
“hey” he says.
“hey rafe.. uh.. do you think i could come over? i need to talk to you about something… it’s kinda serious” you hesitate to explain.
“yeah sure, everything ok?” he asks. “uh— i’ll just talk to you when i get there… bye” you quickly say before pressing the red button to end the call, not even giving him chance to say anything else.
you didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. you needed to see him in person, so you hopped off your bed and jogged downstairs. you call out to your parents to let them know you’re going out and that you wouldn’t be too long, you wouldn’t dare tell them you were going to see rafe.
— you arrive at tannyhill around 20 minutes later, rushing to the front door only to be greeted by ward when you knocked. “y/n… are you here for sarah?..” he asks awkwardly, knowing you are going through a rough patch with rafe, and that you two were considered done for good. “no, uh.. i’m actually here to see rafe..” you reply, seeing him raise his eyebrows.
“rafe!” he calls out to his son, who is already making his way downstairs. “hey y/n, come in” he says, stepping in front of his dad and placing his hand on the door, motioning for you to come inside with his other.
ward rolls his eyes and walks away, knowing you two are on and off constantly. but he obviously didn’t know the real reason you were here.
“rafe…” you gulp, looking at him with teary eyes as he shuts the door. “baby— y/n.” rafe corrects himself, remembering you aren’t his girlfriend anymore. “come on, let’s go upstairs” he says, holding your hand and guiding you to the stairs.
in the back of his mind, he knew the reason you were here. he was the one who replaced your birth control pills, after all. he knew you’d come running to him crying in no time. he smirks as he walks behind you going up the stairs. you can’t see his face, but he is proud. proud that his plan definitely worked. why else would you be here?
once you reached his bedroom, rafe shut the door behind you. “what’s up? come, sit” he says, walking over to his bed to sit down, patting the space next to him.
you walk over and join him on his bed, feeling oddly comforted by his behavior. he isn’t usually this soft with you, especially not when you’re going through a breakup. “rafe.. i, uh-” you stutter, trying to explain.
“i don’t know how to tell you this but uh…” you say, shaking and trembling as you slowly pull 3 positive pregnancy tests from your jacket pocket. rafe looks down at your hands as you reveal them to him.
“i’m pregnant.” the dreaded words came out of your mouth, expecting him to be angry, confused, or upset. but he wasn’t. he reached his hands to yours, gently taking the tests from you to see them for himself. you watched as a smile appeared on his face, shocking you a bit.
“you’re pregnant?” he asks, happy and shocked, pretending he had no idea this was coming. he stood up now, pacing around the room and sifting his hand through his hair, taking in the news that he was going to be a dad.
“yeah…” you say, sniffling and rubbing your nose. “baby, don’t be upset” he calmly says, his tone as soft as ever as he sits down next to you again, this time closer, pulling you into a side hug to comfort you.
“how can i not be upset?” you ask, tears falling down your face now. his smile suddenly dropped. “why are you upset?” he frowns now, pulling away from the hug, confused as if you were supposed to be happy or something.
“we’re not together, rafe. i don’t even know how i got fucking pregnant in the first place, i’m on birth control! i knew those damn things were a stupid scam” you quietly yell, like a loud whisper, letting out your frustration but not wanting the whole house to know your business.
rafe waits a few seconds before answering, watching you as you sob next to him. “were you on birth control?” he asks with a suspicious tone, making you frown your eyebrows and look at him. “what?” you ask, sniffling.
“you sure you were on birth control?” he asks with a smirk on his face now. what the fuck is he talking about? “rafe, what?” you ask again, widening your eyes and waiting for an answer.
“maybe, just maybe,” he starts, standing up from the bed to stand in front of you. “maybe what?” you start to get frustrated. “maybe i swapped your pills for fakes. maybe i didn’t” he shrugs, acting like it were no big deal. your face dropped.
“you did what?!” you yelled, standing up now, coming face to face with him. “what the fuck is the matter with you? why would you do that?!” you yell, demanding answers.
“because i want you back.” he simply answers, no other explanation.
“you want me back? so you get me pregnant?!” you’re yelling now, not caring if his family hears or not. “okay. will you take me back?” he asks, knowing your answer.
“no!”
“and that’s why i did it.”
he is cruel. he had this planned out for god knows how long. “rafe, what the fuck?!” you scream at him.
“having a baby with you means you’re stuck with me forever. and that’s what you get for running away from me. running off with the pogues” he smirks, leaning closer to your face to torment you. you harshly shove him away from you, making him angry.
“don’t fuckin’ do that” he shoves you back, much harder than you did, making you stumble backwards. “ow, rafe” you frown, about to hit him before he grabs your throat, squeezing it hard.
“don’t you ever fuckin’ push me like that” he warns as his fingers tighten around your neck, cutting off your ability to breathe properly. “rafe…” you struggle.
“i got you pregnant on purpose, baby. and you’re not gonna do anything about it. let this be a lesson to you” he roughly pushes you away by your throat, letting go of it as you gasp and catch your breath.
you look at him with quivering lips, tears forming in your eyes as you try to find words to say. “i-,” you huff. “you’re a fucking psychopath” you say, shaking your head at him as tears fall from your eyes.
“don’t call me that.” he raises his hand to you, making you flinch. you don’t say or do anything back, you just stand and cry as he looks at you, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes.
you couldn’t bare to be in the room with him anymore. “i’m leaving.” you say, attempting to walk past him but he steps in front of you, stopping you. “no, you’re not.” he tells you. “yes i am, rafe, now move” you try to push past him again, but he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are against each other’s.
“why? so you can go get an abortion? get rid of my baby?” he asks, knowing that was likely your first thought. “you know what, yeah! i can’t have a fucking baby with you, rafe!” you start to yell again, making him grip you harder, his fingernails digging into your skin above your clothes.
“well, you are, so” he shrugs, making a face as if there was nothing else you could do, no other choice you had. “you seriously want a kid, with me? what do you even know about kids?” you ask, wanting to know his whole thought process behind this.
“i know i’d be a better father than mine ever was.” he says. “i doubt that” you scoff, finding his words amusing. “you doubt that? what, you think i’d do the same to my son what he did to me?” he asks, frowning, you both know his dad wasn’t the best. he had a favorite child, he cherished her, and didn’t acknowledge his other two — and look how that ended up.
“no, i don’t, rafe,” you sigh. “then why don’t you give me a chance?” he asks before you can finish speaking, making you sigh again. “because we’re supposed to love each other before we have a baby together, and that went away a long time ago for me…” you explain, knowing it would hurt his feelings but you wish he’d just sympathize with you for a second.
“i love you…”
“no you don’t, rafe.”
“yes i do”
you don’t say anything. you just accept the fact that he isn’t going to change his mind. you sigh, realizing you literally have no way out of this. you couldn’t tell anyone. your parents would be ashamed, they’d probably scream at you and kick you out of the house. then what? you’d be pregnant with nowhere to go.
the room fell silent for a second. you hear him huff through his nose. “y/n, i do love you. i promise you. i can show you that, i promise i’ll change and be better for you” he says, his grip still on your waist, but less aggressively now. he’s holding you now, just like how he used to.
but you’ve heard those words a thousand times. he never changes, and never keeps his promises. “rafe…” you gulp, not wanting this to happen. you don’t want his baby, you want to get rid of it. you can’t raise a baby, you’re not even 20 yet.
“baby, it’ll be alright. shh, come ‘ere” he says, pulling you into a hug when he notices you crying again. you quietly sob into his chest, feeling him reach his head down slightly.
his mouth was next to your ear. “you’re not gonna get rid of this baby, m’kay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. his hug felt more like he was strangling you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe in his arms, or even in his presence.
“but—” you cry.
“shh…” he strokes your hair. “if you even try to get rid of it, i’ll do something i really don’t wanna do, okay?” he quietly threatens into your ear, gripping you tightly again to hurt you, with all intentions of hurting you worse if you go against his wishes, maybe even your friends, too. or your family. he’s going to teach you a lesson either way. sooner or later, you’ll be his.
PART 2 AHHHHH. part 1 got so many likes hellooooo???! thank you guys so much for supporting me!!! i’ve gained nearly 50 followers in just 2 days of posting! <3 i really hope you guys like this part, OFC rafe has to be as toxic as ever :)
@cameronluvr
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#toxic!rafe cameron#toxic!rafe#dark!rafe cameron#dark!rafe
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere pretty boy
inspired by Dorian Gray
TW: typical yandere stuff, pretty boy, Dorian likes being mean
Please keep in mind that English is not my native language thank you 💛
P.1/? let me know if you want more
He was utterly beautiful, the kind that takes your breath away and makes you hate yourself. The kind that you envy and would kill to be like. The kind that everyone loves but nobody likes. The kind of man that is obsessed with himself.
Dorian was perfect he would describe himself as nothing less than that.
His blond hair framed the delicate features of his face and made his hazel eyes shine like the sun. His toned body was described by his admirers as breathtaking. And his deep voice sounded like that of an angel or an prince.
He was the most popular guy in school and had a group of fans in almost every class. When he was a junior seniors asked him out and now that he’s one himself he rejected everyone who ever asked him out. Everybody hoped to be his first.
Since even if he seemed like a player his standards were too high to be one. He saved himself up to find the perfect match for himself that would rival his beauty.
But now that his senior year was halfway finished he wondered if the right person would ever came. His father would always encourage him to keep on looking for the one, like his father did with his mother.
And thats when you came into the picture. You didn’t have high expectations for your new school, you just wanted to find friends and get decent grades. And everything went surprisingly well until you got asked out by the most magnificent man you had ever seen. You knew Dorian since you shared a few classes with him where he did nothing but stare at his phone (and you).
So you quickly went from the new student to the partner of the most popular guy in school. Many wondered what was so different about you when Dorian rejected everyone else. But Dorian knew, in his eyes you were as beautiful as him, and after he got to know you better after a few dates he finally realized what people meant with „what’s on the inside matters“.
You were more beautiful than him, of course not on the outside because let’s be honest nobody is. But your character was better than his, you are nice, empathetic, friendly and every other positive trait he could think of. And he wanted to reward you.
So he talked with his father and decided to take you to your new home.
You didn’t expect much when he invited you to his house, especially not the biggest mansion you have ever seen. But it wasn’t the outside that caught you off guard, it was what was inside.
Before every window was a thick curtain so that no sunlight was visible inside.
On every wall where either pictures of Dorian and a beautiful woman or mirrors. They were big and small, and you felt like they were following your every step. Dorians room was no different being filled with mirrors and a giant portrait above his bed. The picture of Dorian Gray.
You like it, my angel? He asked seeing you staring at his portrait, while hugging you from behind.
It was made on my 18th birthday to capture my beauty forever.
You looked in awe at the sheer beauty infront of you. So you were surprised when Dorian pulled you out of his room and you went to a separate one.
It had no windows and the only thing in it was a portrait of a family. You felt hypnotized by the sight. The woman in the picture even outshined Dorians beauty
Thats my mother.
The toddler which you made out as Dorian had a lot more cuteness to him than Dorian had now with his more often stern expressions. Just the man stood out like a sore thumb with his just average appearance.
You look just like her. He said like in trance.
You were so enamored with the picture that you didn’t realize that the servants threw away all your belongings which you brought with you and locked all the doors.
You were captured by the most beautiful man, with the darkest desires.
💛Thanks a lot for reading, feel free to share. I don’t think I ever had more ideas to write in a story 💛
#yandere#obsessive yandere#yandere community#soft yandere#yandere core#yandere fic#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere bf#yandere fiction#yandere stories#dorian gray#yandere story#yandere vibe
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
test my luck ꢾ꣒ mattheo riddle. - UPDATED!
summary: enemy to lovers! Mattheo and y/n have been each other's biggest haters since year 1, they're in their final year at Hogwarts. Mattheo finally pushes y/n to the edge, with his venomous words and guilt tactics.
pairing: enemy! mattheo x fem ravenclaw! reader
warnings: not for the faint of heart! mature themes/language. mentions of abuse. slow burn? bullying angst!! oh my god angst, but ends with some bittersweet fluff I promise! attempted suicide sorry (after reading this back, i dont mean it to be manipulation or to glorify or romanticize but! shit!! for a plot?)
note: i haven't written anything in literal years, the pov is going to shift a lot so bear with me. i honestly just lost any sense of motivation. but something in me just bloomed. you wont see any hp things on this blog it is my journal and i feel like sharing! maybe a part 2 in the making. if this gets enough response.
word count: 6,828
(slightly not really proofread or fan fact checked? if that's a thing ha)
playlist: should i create..? you know damn well the smiths would be in it! like Bigmouth Strikes Again?? that is mattheo!
reblogs & comments are so appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It was the start of your last year of Hogwarts, it was an okay time. You personally didn’t get into too much trouble, you liked to stick by yourself for the most part. You studied hard because your muggle parents were still confused about you being a witch, and what you would get out of it. It was hard to process that information, it was a thing of fairy tales. You had to prove yourself in this new world. That…that was hard when you were constantly looking over your shoulder for Mattheo Riddle.
“What’s a whore doing in my seat?” Speak of the damn devil.
You turned to look at him with a sarcastic smile, “Well hello to you too Mattheo.” You nod at the three other boys that were with him, each of their arms crossed. “Draco. Blaise. Theodore.” You return to look at Mattheo, “you know last time I checked… there are no assigned seats in Potions.” You looked around and the class was still fairly empty.
“Think again and think hard.” Mattheo spoke to you in a cold shallow tone, he barely looked at you. He circled around the table you were at, your eyes following him. He suddenly stopped right behind your chair, yanking it back. There was a loud scrape, the few students that were in the room turned to look at the scene unfolding. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. Mattheo slammed his hand on the side of the table, making you flinch. You hated that you reacted that way. He grabbed the back of your ponytail, forcing your head forward where his hand was, “Look.” M. Riddle. D. Malfoy. B. Zabini. T. Nott. Their names were carved into the side. You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto your ponytail, you tried to pry his icy cold fingers off. It only made him tighten his grip, he bent down to get close to your face, “I suggest you move unless you want me to carve my name onto your face as well.” he spat and finally let go.
“Whatever,” you gathered your books, “this seat sucks anyways. I’ll go hang out with Professor Snape up front.” You rolled your eyes as Draco lit up a cigarette, handing the pack to the boys to share. If you’re going to try and get away with smoking, yeah do it in the back of the class I guess.
“You really like being a teacher’s pet don’t you? That’s why you’ve always got your nose up Snape’s ass.”
“Seriously fuck off! Go continue to lose brain cells with your sorry excuse of friends.” You push the seat back and let it topple over. You mentally slapped yourself, you shouldn’t be feeding into his remarks.
“That’s cute sunshine, I’ll bet you have a hard time standing up for yourself in every aspect of your pathetic life. Do better.” Mattheo smugly said, smoking the cigarette that was in his hand.
You opened your mouth to speak but decided against it, you ended up just flipping him off. He did the same, giving you an annoyed look. You took the seat next to Hermione in the front of the class. Ugh! That Mattheo. “Are you okay?!” She asked, shooting daggers at the group, turning to you again “How can you put up with that? We have to tell someone..” you shook my head and whispered, “it’ll only make things worse. I don’t want to be a snitch. It’s already been six years anyways… how can one more year really change things.”
Blaise laughed, “you like that don’t you mattheo? Isn’t she so cute when she’s angry, you like feisty girls, yeah?”
Draco chuckles, “oh he definitely does, too bad she’s a stupid bitch.” The group laughs together.
You could hear them hollering from the back. You tried to calm yourself down and pay attention to the different measurements of the potions you were being taught. Maybe I could switch this class to a different time. You thought, focusing back to the lesson when Professor Snape mentioned something about needing to be in groups of three for an upcoming project.
Before Snape could assign anyone, Mattheo spoke up, “Sir I’d like to work with Theodore, if that’s permitted.” Snape looked annoyed by his interjection but answered, “No, Theodore will be with Y/N and Draco. Nothing will change. I already made the groups, they will be posted near the storeroom.” He gave Mattheo a dirty look.
You could hear Draco scoff but he didn't say anything. Yet. He kept to himself and his buddies while they continued to smoke and do other things to piss Professor Snape off before the class was finally dismissed. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being in a pair with Mattheo. You still wanted to protest against the group choice, but nothing would come of it. You knew better than to go against Snape’s final word. Theodore wasn’t such a horrible person, he actually can be pretty smart and helpful, if you got him alone. Otherwise when he was with even just one of his buddies, he was just like them - a jerk. It was Draco you won’t be able to stand.
“Don't do anything stupid, Y/L/N, and we might actually do okay in this project.” That was Draco himself, walking over with Theodore.
You ignored his comment, “where should we meet and when?”
“We can use one of the abandoned classrooms. Before the lunch break?” Theodore suggested, handing a note with directions.
“Okay. See you.” You said as bluntly as possible, gathering your book. You went to grab the ingredients your group might need.
“Teachers pet!” Draco yelled after.
⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝
Of course you were the first to the abandoned classroom, you had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before either of them showed. When they did, they didn’t bother to apologize, though you didn’t expect them to. Even with smart comments from both boys, you finished discussing the project and the presentation at a decent hour. It was quiet as you started to collect your things, Draco excused himself earlier to collect a package.
“Y/N, why is it that you hate Mattheo so much?” Theodore broke the silence, carefully watching you wrap the vials carefully. You paused, taken back. “He’s been trying to get a rise out of you since day 1, why?” He continued nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
You quickly grab them out of his hand and put it in your own breast pocket, “don’t smoke around me.”
This made him annoyed, “Hey! I need those! They keep me calm!”
“No you don't, you've been fine this entire time without them. I’m not trying to raise your blood pressure right now. You’re fine.” You give him a good look, maybe he was playing dumb. How could he not know? Theodore and Mattheo were best friends; they must have already talked about this, “I only hate Mattheo because he hates me. It’s all there's to it…” I think.
He lingers for a moment after you answered him, there is something else you haven’t said, “tell me what you think. There’s always some deeper reason for this sort of stuff” He rested his chin on his hand. See this is why I favored Theodore from the rest of his group, but should I still trust him? He could use this information against me. I took the chance.
“Over the years I suspected it was just plainly because I was a mudblood and not some perfect pure-bred like you folk.” You continued to wrap the vials carefully.
Theodore rolled his eyes, “He does have a thing against people with different backgrounds than his own. He thinks everyone in this school should be from a wizarding family. But that’s not the case with you.” He grabbed a vial too, helping me wrap them, “He’s never said anything about your parents or how they’re muggles.” Mattheo would talk about me when I wasn’t around? Why would he do that? You looked into his eyes searching for some joke or underlying lie. There was none I could detect.
You recall the moment aloud when you first laid your eyes on Mattheo, “It was at the train station. Our first year. I remember hugging and kissing my parents goodbye, not wanting to let go of them. I turned around to go on the train and there was a much much smaller Mattheo staring at me with wide beady little eyes that were glossed over with tears. He was cute in that split second - ” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Theodore watched you carefully. You straightened your lips, continuing, “ - before he stuck a solid wad of gum in my hair.”
Theodore bellowed, nearly falling backwards in his chair, “Yeah that sounds like him, that’s a classic stunt he’d pull off. There was this one time in year 5 when he stuck gum on the chair of one of the professors before class…I never saw her so mad after she sat down and got up, her chair nearly followed her around!” He tried to settle himself down, “Mattheo always had a thing for doing stuff to people and acting as if it’s all a joke.”
“It’s not a joke when you have to cut your hair super short in order to remove the gum. I felt so naked without my long hair, it was so beautiful! And he made it worse when he made a point to show how ugly I was to everyone in the Great Hall. I even remember you laughing just like you are now.” You pushed his shoulder.
Theodore smirked, “yeah we all laughed, how couldn’t we?! You looked ridiculous before you grew it back out. We used to call you Baldy McEgg-head. You’d get so mad, only making us laugh harder.” At least someone cherished the memory. You rolled your eyes.
It grew quiet again, “have you ever met Mattheo’s parents? Has he ever talked to you about them?”
“No. I’ve never met them. He’s never really talked about his parents or his life outside Hogwarts. I don’t think he’s on great terms with his dad. He always stayed with them during the breaks, and wasn't ever allowed to spend it with us or here at hogwarts. He missed out on a lot of important hang outs. I wished he was there for them” Theodore explained, he sounded disappointed and angry.
“Do…do you think he’s jealous of my home life? The affection I was receiving in front of him at the train station…”
He thinks for a moment, “I suppose it could be a possibility…hard to tell. He doesn’t allow himself to show too much emotion, again, probably has to do with the way he must have been raised.”
You wanted to do more research into Mattheo’s family…but how? “Thanks for this Teddy. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” You finished packing everything into your bag. Before you left you tossed him back his pack of cigarettes, “see you later.”
⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝
You let out a sigh of relief, to be alone once again. Mettheo Riddle, what secrets do you hide? You made your way to the library instead of the Great Hall. After a few hours of searching around the library, you finally find a section of massive thick old leather bound books. You blew on the covers, these books contained a record of all the wizards and witches that had attended Hogwarts. Kind of like a yearbook, but it told you what came of them. Who married who, what did they end up doing after Hogwarts, etc. a rare but quite the gem of a find. “R… R.. R” you whispered, touching the book ends. You look at the bottom of the bookshelf finding the one that contained the last names that began with R. You found it, and you began to look through for the name “Riddle.”
Just as you got to the last name, you felt a wave of shame. You were snooping into somebody’s life. Their history. This is wrong. If Mattheo wanted to talk about his home life, surely he would have. He was hiding something. There were heavy slow footsteps coming around the corner of the aisle. You snapped the book shut holding it behind you and you looked at the section opposite of where you just were. Mattheo, they were his steps, you could tell.
“Of course you’d be in the library doing nerd stuff.” He doesn’t sound happy, but also when is he truly ever?
You looked at him then around yourself, “who me? A nerd for being in the library?” I mean he wasn’t wrong but ..yeah. You still point at him, “Where are you then? Because it seems to be you’re also in the library with…” you fake gasp, “...Me! Making you a nerd too!” You hoped that confused him, you shifted the leather book behind your back. It was getting heavy by the second.
“I’m ditching classes to smoke,” He takes a rip of a cigarette that was nearly at its end, he blows the smoke in your face. “Nerd.”
“Whoop-dee-doo what a stellar insult Mettheo. I’m a ravenclaw. What did you expect? I’d rather be a nerd than a-” You took a step closer to him squinting then widening your eyes in horror, “oh my god Mattheo did you lose a tooth from all that smoking?” He quickly shoved his pinky into his mouth feeling his teeth in a panic. If there was one thing he cared more about than cigarettes it was keeping up with his good looks. Uh did I just describe him as good looking?
He actually laughed once he finished counting his teeth, “They’re perfectly fine. I care about taking care of myself, unlike you. How often do you wash yourself? I doubt you even brush your hair. I did you a favor when you had to cut it off. You have no sense of style, even with a selection of uniforms! Why do you dress like it’s winter all year? You dress like a peasant from the 1820’s”
Okay ouch, that kinda hurt. You’ve been insecure with your body, you always struggled with that. Dressing in sweaters helped hide it. You didn’t know how to respond, maybe he's right. You couldn’t stand up for yourself to save your life. You just shoved his shoulder with your own and walked past him.
Matthew continues to follow you, “did you just shove me you twat?” He snatched the book out of my arms holding it a ways away from you, “If you’re going to do sneaky shit, don’t do it so obviously. Is this a diary or something?” Your eyes widened trying to take it back, but he held it up high above his head easily with one hand.
“Yes! It’s my diary, it’s where I gush about the god almighty perfect Mattheo!” I sarcastically said, still hoping he wouldn’t look at the title of the book. “No stupid! I dont have one, I just got done working on the potions project with your buddies. Hand me back the book.”
“Oh I bet you three had lots of fun. Did you talk about me while you were there? Did you talk about how you can’t take your eyes and mind off of me? You’re clearly obsessed, following me around like a love sick puppy. You pop up wherever I happen to be.”
“Ew no never.” You fought your expression back, did Theodore tell him something? Fuck. “Draco left, it was just Teddy and I. we spent it kissing the whole time. Super carefree. His lips surprisingly didn't taste like cigarettes, they were pretty sweet.”
Mattheo’s smug smirk fades even before you finish your sentence. He hated how you used a nickname for his friend. He despised the thought of you kissing anyone, especially his mates, “fucking liar. THEODORE, not TEDDY, doesn’t like you. He just tolerates you because he has to. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing you. You’re disgusting and I pity anyone who has the displeasure of touching you in any way other than to harm you.
You hold your hands up, “woah woah woah, whatever makes you sleep peacefully at night. Why else did Teddy take me to an abandoned classroom, it was our chance to get away together especially after Draco conveniently left.” You couldn’t believe you were lying through your teeth, this would forsure come back and bite you in the ass even harder. You haven’t even had your first kiss yet. You haven't even been romantically linked with anyone before.
“Stop fucking calling him Teddy, it’s Theodore!”
“Can you guys get a room or SHUT UP! For Merlin’s Sake” A random student yelled out at us. Slamming their hand on the table. You were embarrassed because you took pride in keeping the library a sacred place to study or relax.
“Piss off. Go find a room of your own instead of listening to us talking. You must be a first year, if you’re still so sensitive to other’s voices in the library.” He continued to raise his voice, “We’ve been like this for years! Blah blah blah!!”
“Stop it Mattheo.” You shove him again, mouthing to the student, I'm very sorry. With the distraction you go and grab the book in Mattheo’s hand but he quickly readjusts his grip.
“You don’t have to apologize for me, sunshine. You should apologize to him for your existence, do everyone a favor will you?” He finally looked down at the title of the book, Who Were They and Where They Now?: Hogwarts. He carefully used a single finger to pry it open to where the fabric bookmark was, immediately seeing his own surname. He gives a manic laugh looking up at your face and slamming the book down to the floor, “you stalker. You are obsessed with me.”
He lunged at you. You took a step back, you hit the shelving. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out from the red handed guilt.
“What kind of information were you looking to find huh?” He pointed a finger at me, his eyes ice cold. Looking to murder. Your head suddenly hurt, there was a high pitched ringing that wouldn't stop. You went to cover your ears to find some relief but Mattheo grabbed you and shook hard, “what the FUCK did you think you would find? Tell me. Tell me NOW!” You didn’t know what to say he just stared hard at you, his nails digging into your arms. You winced. He began to speak fast and harshly as if he knew, as if you had said something.
“Did you really expect you would find out that I had a happy home? Do you think I’m happy being born in some dingy hovel? Do you think I'm overjoyed to be related to and be abused by my father? He beat me black and blue and hated my existence. My mother just sat there silently watching. She doesn’t care. Would YOU be thrilled knowing that you came from a long line of dark wizards who’ve caused pain and suffering to people for centuries.”
You began to cry, “Mattheo..”
“You honestly think I would be so proud of that to tell everyone?” He scoffed.
“Mattheo you’re hurting me…”
“I. Don’t. Care.” His deep brown eyes didn’t leave yours, “you should have minded your own business. Stupid girl prying into my history. What do you care? Did you think I'd be less of a jerk to you if I had a perfect loving family like yours? ”
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry! I .. I.”
“Shut up. You don't get to speak. I don't need you feeling sorry for me, I can handle myself. This is probably the worst you’ll ever experience.”
“Y-You’re right. I’m.. I’m grateful I never had to e-endure that” You were one stuttering mess.
He moves one hand to cup your mouth to shut you up again, “what did i say. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth.” He rose the other up threateningly.
You closed your eyes. Do it Mattheo. Please. I deserve it. I’m sorry I tried to pry. Do it. He was surprised by your offer and looked at you in confusion, his expression didn’t change though. “What kind of sick request is that?” You open your eyes again to meet his. Both of you were in disbelief, did he just-? “Why would you want me to beat you? Because you feel bad for me? I don’t want nor need your sympathy. Trying to act like a saint that's willing to be my punching bag whenever I want.” he scoffed, letting your mouth free, taking a single step back away from you.
“Then why are you so mean to me? Tell me that. When I first laid eyes on you during our first year at the train platform, I thought we would be friends.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing where his fingers had dug into you.
“You’re a prissy annoying know-it-all goody two shoes that thinks she’s better than everyone. You can’t help but chime in whenever you have the chance and show off.”
“So it’s just my existence then huh, nothing else to it?” You felt your own anger finally rise, you wiped your tears off your cheek trying to regain composure.
“Pretty much. You’re unbearable. You are the most unexciting thing I’ve ever encountered.”
“Let me fix that for you.” Your eyes betrayed you and let the gates open, the flood starting to spill once more. Before Mattheo could get another hold of you you quickly shuffled off, dropping your things. Already feeling limp. Just hoping your legs would carry you a bit more.
Mattheo rolls his eyes, “tsk so stupid.” He stood there staring at the place you once were. Thinking about what occurred when he processed what you said, “Y/N! Hey I-..” He began to follow in the direction you went off to.
Your shuffle turned into a run, you just needed privacy. Anything. Your dorm was too far away, so you went into the nearest girls bathroom and into the furthest stall to sob.
Mattheo reaches the hallway, looking to his left and right. Fuck where did she go? He closes his eyes to listen closely. He heard something faint and went with his gut.
You sat down beside the toilet, hitting your head with your fist. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You heard a familiar giggle, “go away Myrtle. Now’s especially not the time.”
Bathroom, you had to be in the bathroom. He went inside not caring if another girl would see him, “Y/N? You’re in here, I know you are. Look, just come out will you?” Instead Moaning Myrtle came forth.
“Are you looking for me?” she bit her finger looking him up and down, “we don't get that many cute boys in here.” She sighed, still admiring him, “Nevertheless, shame on you. How could someone as delicious as you treat someone so horribly.” She laughed in his face.
“Shut up. I don't need to be lectured by some depressed ghost. Why are you even here. Go away.” He went further inside the bathroom pushing doors in, “actually have you seen a girl come in, Y/N?”
“Yes!” She said excitedly pointing to the last stall, “She’s coming with me and we’ll get to haunt together. It’ll be so fun to not be alone anymore” She broke into another high pitched laugh, clapping her hands with joy.
“What the hell is she on about?” That’s when he noticed broken glass from a mirror. His heart drops, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” He rushed over pushing the final door in, but this one wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. It’s Mattheo..” his heart drops and he pales when he notices blood start to seep out from under the door, you’ve hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He says again louder, “open the door! Open it right fucking now! Y/N!!”
You didn’t want him to see you like this, no one should have to see this. You try to hold the door closed but you were losing your strength to do anything. The blood made it slippery so your hand slid down, “M-m-mattheo haven’t..you said enough?”
Myrtle pointed to the glass, “look how eager she was! Damaging school property to break free” She did a couple spins in the air, “any minute now!”
“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Mattheo raised his wand and shot a blast at the lock, it broke open and he flung the door open to reveal you laying on the floor. His heart seemed to stop completely. “Shit! Dammit! Y/N!”
The blast frightened you, “No. Mattheo. No.” You could only make out his dark curly haired head. You tried to swat him away before losing consciousness due to blood loss.
Professor Snape rushed in after hearing a blast, “what the bloody hell is going on in here, Mr. Riddle.”
Mattheo looked at him with an angry and panicked expression, “I need her in the infirmary right now.” He said through gritted teeth. He leans over you, grabbing a large bunch of toilet paper and quickly kneels next to you. Applying pressure on your bleeding left wrist.
Snape understood immediately, “Keep the pressure on the wrist, Riddle.” He was able to pick you up easily, but he was not enthusiastic about having your blood staining his robes, “with HASTE Riddle! Follow me!” And off they went to the infirmary. Once there Snape quickly laid you on a bed gently before Madame Pomfrey took over.
She was able to stop and clean the bleeding, while she examined the cut striation she asked both Snape and Mattheo what blood type they were, “The girls lost too much blood, she needs a transfusion.” She began to stitch the wrist, the cut was near vertical to the veins.
Mattheo in a less than a split second looked at Pomfrey, “Am I able to donate for her.” He didn’t say it as a question, he wanted it to be a command.
“As long as you share the same blood type then yes, sweetheart. Please, fresh blood is much better. We can’t wait more time, Ms. Y/L/N is so terribly pale. She can have a seizure any minute if we dont get more blood to her brain” still carefully pulling at threads. His hand was still holding yours.
He nods impatiently, less talking, more action. “I’m AB-” he gulped. One of the rarest blood types in the world, “what type is she?” he began to roll up his sleeve even before Pomfrey was able to respond.
“Goodheavens! Thank Merlin. She’s AB- as well!” She sighs looking up at the ceiling for a split second, calling for a nurse to help set up the transfusion. He took a seat on your left, watching the nurse insert a needle into each of your arms. He didn’t flinch, but he gave her a threatening look when she inserted a needle into your arm, thinking she would bring more pain to you.
Madame Pomfrey stood up, finished. “If it was with a straight razor and not a glass shard, I don’t think i would have been able to-” she let her voice die down after seeing how pale Mattheo began to look too, she shut her mouth as to not worry him more with what the other alternative was. He couldn’t hide his guilt. His eyes were alternating between your face and his blood that was slowly running into your body through a single tubing. He desperately needed it to go faster.
“Is there a chance she would wake up with problems with her veins or her nerves?” He asked.
Pomfrey patted the boy's shoulders, “Let’s hope not, let’s hope they hold. With the basics in place, there’s nothing a little magic can’t help.” This eased him, “Ms. Y/L/N wont wake for a couple of hours. She needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t rip my stitching job or we will go back to square one my boy. Can I trust you?”
“Is that really a necessary question?” He bit his tongue, “Sorry, yes I will watch over her. I need to be here when she wakes up.”
“Best she gets a psychiatrist too, but that's a later issue to address. We’ll focus on physical healing for now.” Pomfrey looked at Mattheo curiously, isn’t this one of the trouble-making slytherin boys? She shook her head and walked out to attend to another student.
“Y/N i’m here.” He studies your face, deep with regret and guilt. He holds your right hand tightly, he whispers softly, “it’s okay, you’re going to be alright..”
“Riddle.” Snape was still watching everything from the shadows of the room, “What happened to my best student, why is he in this condition?”
“It’s my fault, Professor…I was making a fool out of myself. I was treating her like hell… it went too far. She must have had a breakdown and she-” he couldn’t bear to describe your condition out loud.
Snape held a hand up to silence him from saying more, “rather than giving you detention for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. I will need you to attend all the girl’s classes she will be missing in her recovery. She must not fall behind.”
“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll do it.”
Snape turned to leave but came back toward the boy and yanked the cigarette box from his uniform pocket, “none of these for you either, especially as you are sharing blood with Y/N. She never liked you smoking.” and off he turned around to change his own robes from the blood.
“Anything for you.” he whispered towards you, “please wake up soon.”
⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝
You began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around in a panic. You were incredibly sore, especially your left wrist. It stung badly. Mattheo had fallen asleep in the chair when he jolted awake to the sound of your movements, “Calm down, relax, you’re in the infirmary. You’re safe.” He couldn’t help but feel like he just lied about it being safe, if he was the cause of this.
“M…m..Mattheo” You began to cry again, “I’m so sorry.” You went to reach out and hug him but flinched. You followed the red transfusion line to him, “oh Mattheo.”
He sat up to lean towards you. He shushes you and wipes your tears with the back of his hand, ‘you need to calm down and take it easy, princess. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you're still weak. This is just to bring your levels up, you’ll start to feel better soon.”
You stared at his beautiful eyes, ones that had held so much hate but there seemed to be no trace of it now. You felt guilty, I acted like a coward. “Myrtle said it was going to be quick and painless. I’m so stupid I couldn’t even do it right.” You felt another wave of tears coming but you tried to choke them down.
“No youre not, you’re not at fault.” He couldn’t help but chuckle cautiously as what he was about to say, “you might be a know-it-all but you just need to have more control with your thoughts. Don’t listen to Moaning Myrtle. Don’t be hard on yourself, you're not stupid. You did nothing wrong.”
“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you were so exhausted. But you needed to get this out before you lost consciousness again. With your good arm you help his hand tightly, looking him in the eyes again to emphasize the point you were going to make, “Mattheo, I really am idiotic. I Am. I did think you had a perfect life, it didn’t cross my mind that you had it any other way. You were always carefree and just let's be honest, acting like you're’ better than everyone else. It was wrong of me to have assumed that.”
He frowns. “Don’t apologize. There’s no way to tell what someone is going through ultimately. I..cope in my own way.” He softly strokes your cheek with this thumb.
If it wasn’t for the pain, you would have thought you were asleep. Dead. Or in purgatory. A realm between realms. No way the mattheo I’ve known my whole life is sitting beside me looking..lovingly at me? You felt horrible. Did I just manipulate him into caring about me? Just hours ago he was mocking and saying nasty things as usual.
Mattheo could see the look of disbelief in your eyes from the way he was behaving, “Y/N. I’m caring for you. No you’re not dreaming or in some other realm. You’re here, with me, thank Merlin. You didn’t manipulate me, you woke me up.”
You sat up too quickly for your own good, your head feeling light “How are you doing that?”
He shook his head, “Another time. I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You think I’m just some asshole, but I'm more than that really. I want to be more than that. No one else has gotten to see the real me.”
“Mattheo, I see you.” Despite your pain, you reach out to cup his face between your hands. For a second, you saw the boy you first laid your eyes on that first year at the train station. The same sad eyes, “I see you.”
He sighed into your touch, it was a soft and innocent gesture he was not used to. He chuckled softly, and gently placed his hands over yours, keeping them there. He didn’t want to lose the touch, “I know you do, and that’s exactly why I'm afraid.”
You couldn’t help but imagine - how different our lives could have been for the last 6 years, if he would have just introduced himself to me. Explained why he looked so pained when I was with my family. “My parents would have welcomed you as their own” you explained your thoughts to him. “I could have protected you. You could have visited me during the holiday breaks. I know saying it will not change the past and what has happened to you. But I see you Matty.”
“yeah..it’s too late to change the past, I should’ve but I didn’t think you’d understand. It doesn’t excuse the way I treated you all these years, Y/N.” His voice got shaky, his eyes starting to water. He was a mess.
“No, don't you start Mattheo please, baby.” You brought him into a hug, again ignoring your throbbing wrist. “Easy now.” you soothed the curls that were behind his neck. They felt so soft.
Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder and held you tightly, softly crying into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto your shirt like he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him like this, it felt so new and overwhelming.
You kissed the top of his head, inhaling - cigarettes. You hated that he smoked but at this moment the smalle was comforting. He let out a deep sigh. You broke the hug only because you scooted over on the bed, and tugged him to lay beside you. We watched you, he looked so tired. He nodded in agreement with a small smile, he carefully laid beside you, making sure to be careful of your condition.
You gave him a reassuring look that wasn’t hurting you. I’m okay. You looked at your arms touching side by side, still connected by the tubing. You couldn't help but laugh, “Matty isn’t it ironic? All this pure-blood and mudblood talk and look” you carefully lifted the tube, “we’re still one and the same foundation.” You smiled at him, helping wipe his tear stained cheeks now. “Thanks for your donation to me.”
He too couldn't help but grin back at you. He couldn’t believe you weren’t pushing him away for how he treated you, or for how vulnerable he was at the moment, “any time, but please actually don’t do that ever again. You made me worried to death..”
“No I won’t. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take.
He took it in his own nodding, “good, you’re stuck with me now.”
With our pinkies still woven, you looked at the size difference. You turned toward his Bambi like eyes, “let's start this over on the right foot. Better late than never? Hi i’m Y/N, [insert some fun facts about yourself].”
Mattheo smiled more widely, blushing his pinky did make yours look kiddish. It was adorable. He gave you a playful look, smirking at you like he usually would, “Nice to meet you there, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, the sexiest guy you’ll meet in Hogwarts.”
There’s my Mattheo. “And you promise to…?” you coaxed him.
He gave your pinky another squeeze, “to try to be nice and kind to you, and avoid bullying you….as well as to not smoke in your presence…you happy?”
You kind of nodded, holding in your laugh, “aaaand…?”
He looked at you, trying to read what you wanted him to say. He gave your pinky another, slightly rougher, squeeze. “And I promise not to throw a wad of gum into your beautiful hair?”
“Bingo. Mr. Riddle, that’s what I was ultimately looking for.” You let go of his pinky, “but it is nice to know the other stuff too.” you waved your hand like it was nothing, but it was my everything. He gave you a sarcastic scoff, he liked that you were still acting like your old self too.
You kissed his cheek and his face went redder than a cherry, you acted shocked “woah did I just make Mattheo, the sexiest guy in Hogwarts BLUSH?!” You slapped your hands against your cheeks in play disbelief, slightly regretting the pain it brought to your arms. He quickly shook his head and blushed even more than originally thought possible, he tried to hide his face away from you, “S-shut up! That’s a lie! I was not blushing, it’s just your imagination.”
You laughed at his reaction, taking his hand in mine once more comparing the hand sizes. You put my head against his shoulder, before dropping your jester attitude. Making him form another pinky promise with you. “Mattheo, I promise to be there for you. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t live in the shadow of your home life, especially not alone. Just as much as I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. That’s my promise to you.”
His heart beat fast, it nearly melted his heart to hear your promise. He let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't stop the small tear that rolled down his cheek, he didn’t bother wiping it. He just leaned his head down to rest on your own, “deal…”
There was a pause, before you spoke up again.“I know we just started the year but please, come back home with me this Christmas holiday when it rolls around.” You blinked up at him. You started to feel really sleepy, that was to be your last request and plea for the moment, “I’ll show you how muggles get down to holiday business.”
Mattheo looked down at you and smiled softly, as your eyes were struggling to stay open, “yea sure, i’ll spend the holidays with you” he wasn’t sure how he would, but he would worry about that later.
Many promises were made this day, and you intended to keep each and every single one of them. In many ways, you knew this would still be the same Mattheo you had always known, but it would all be so different now. You managed to break through his extremely guarded shell, the hardest way possible. But it needed to desperately be broken.
You turned Mattheo’s head to look at you, he met your gaze. The corner of his lip curled up as he knew what you were about to do. He let you take the lead, closing his eyes. You kissed his lips slowly, cherishing how it felt. You wanted more of him, but your body was pleading for rest. You hugged his arm and surrendered.
He couldn’t help but touch his lips afterwards with his fingertips. He watched as you gave in to exhaustion, he followed your lead and let out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, “Goodnight princess.” Mattheo fell asleep to the sounds of you breathing and the sound of your heartbeat, they would surely become one of the most blissful lullabies to be heard by him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, he wouldn’t ever let go.
#mattheo riddle#oh my god i havent done tags like these in a minute#*cracks knuckles*#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle x you#harry potter#slytherin#ravenclaw#slytherin boys#draco malfoy#theodore nott#blaise zabini#i realized i didnt include enzo into this sorry#mattheo riddle angst#mattheo riddle x y/n#ive never done smut..should i try for the first time if this gets reads?#mattheo x you#mattheo fluff#mattheo riddle drabble#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle scenarios#do i tag ben? he hates this character tho#enemies to lovers#slow burn#Legilimency
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐸𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝑒
𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: yes/no
𝒮����𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: in which y/n is dared to kiss Jack during spin the bottle
𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: jack!platonic -> Jack x Reader, use of y/n, female reader, friends to lover, fluff, part 1, unedited,
𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒: 1) I wrote this in different point of view, but still used (y/n). I’m hoping this allows for better flow and clarity. 2)please remember that anything written by me is purely for entertainment purposes. The fic written may be based off an official event that occurred, but facts may be skewed to fit the plot. Please do not take these fics for reference or for more than what they are intended to be. With that being said, I hope you enjoy.♡︎
ミ★☆彡
“Are you sure you’re okay with playing?” Jack asked squeezing her hand for comfort. He knew the likely chance that she was going to get dared to do something she was uncomfortable with or she would land on the kiss block. “Yeah it’s fine rowdy.” She gave him a small unconvincing smile. Jack didn’t push any further he only took a seat next to her in the circle of the others gathered to play spin the bottle.
(Y/n) wouldn’t admit to anyone but she was quite nervous to be sitting in this circle made up of numerous friends, people she didn’t know, her lifelong best friend who she had developed feelings for when she shouldn’t have, and her number 1 enemy.
She wasn’t sure when her feelings started to change towards Jack but they had. She did her best to keep them under wraps and act as if their normal interactions didn’t send her heart into overdrive, but it’s getting harder and harder. The two had always been the friends who cuddled and napped together. It was nothing for Jack to have her in his lap if all the lawn chairs were taken during a bonfire.
“If you get something you’re uncomfortable doing we will just leave, okay?” Jack whispers to (y/n) breaking her out of her thoughts. “Oh yeah, sounds good.” She smiles at him as Natalie, prime-enemy 1, starts rattling off the rules of the game. “Of course she would be in charge.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but mutter to herself, at least she thought, Jack heard her and laughed. “Not too late to back out.” He reminded her, but really it was. Natalie already saw her and Jack sitting in the circle.
After a few spins and narrow escapes the bottle landed on (y/n). “Alright Ms. Goodie-goodie, this should be fun.” Natalie snarks causing most of the group to laugh. Jack leaned closer to (y/n) to offer his support. As if to remind her that they could dip at any moment. “Truth, dare, or are you going to take two shots?” Natalie asks.
(Y/n) hesitates for a moment before deciding today is the last day she lives in fear of her enemy. “Dare.” She chooses boldly. Natalie’s smirk grows, and Jack stiffens next to her. “Hmm. Okay then. I dare you to kiss Jack. Right here in front of everyone.” Natalie never broke eye contact with (y/n) while making her dare. (Y/n)’s heart rate was crazy fast and her head was spinning.
Quickly glancing over to check Jack’s reaction she didn’t expect to see him studying her. “Hey, you don’t have to. Remember what i said.” Jack talks softly so it’s just between them. “No, rowdy. If it’s ok, I..I’ll do it.” She was doing her best to be confident in the moment. “What’s the hold up? Some of us want to get on with the game. If you don’t want to kiss him i will.” Natalie groans but it only entices (y/n) to leap into action.
She leans forward and softly brushes her lips across Jack’s. The moment her lips begin to move away from his, Jack immediately has one hand gripping her waist and the other cupping her face. (Y/n) gasps, yet quickly adjusts to follow Jack’s lead. Her and Jack’s lips moved in perfect synchrony. She was unaware that Jack was hoping she wouldn’t back out of the dare. Jack had been waiting for the day to kiss her and it not ruin their friendship if feelings weren’t reciprocated.
Jack moved his hand that was cupping her face down to her waist as well and pulled her closer to him. What the two weren’t paying attention to was that any closer and (y/n) would be straddling his lap. Whistles and hoots let out around the room. Jack reluctantly pulled away from the sweet fiery kiss. He didn’t care what anyone thought at this point he finished pulling his best friend into his lap and hugged her tightly to his body.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jack tells (y/n). She doesn’t say anything only nods and stands up. Both of them ignoring the calls from the group behind them. Jack pulls her outside and to his car.
“(Y/n). You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that. How long I’ve wanted to do that.” He admits, searching her face for signs of regret, disgust from his actions, anything to tell him to stop. But there isn’t anything except pure admiration in her eyes. “Jack.” His name sounds like honey to him. “I just have one question.” He interrupts her. “How the heck did you become an expert kisser? Because i never wanted to stop in there. It was so intoxicating. Invigorating.” His hands were back on her waist pulling her close to him. “I… I don’t know? I just followed your lead.. that was my first kiss. I thought you knew that?”
Jack’s eyes went huge before he quickly composed himself. “Can I be your next 100 or so more?” He cheekily asked. (Y/n) dropped her gaze feeling her face begin to burn.
“But we’re just friends, Jack.” He breathed out a slight laugh. “The hell we are, you’re mine now silly girl.” Grabbing her chin gently tilting her head up so he can look her in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to make you my girl for a long time, I know you feel the same way please don’t deny it. I will make every day worth it and the next day even better. I promise. I’ve loved you and cared for you since we were kids as your best friend, just give me a chance to prove to you I can truly love you as your boyfriend.” (Y/n) smiled ever so softly at the boy she knew when he was missing his two front teeth who’s turned into the handsome young man professing his feelings for her. Reaching up to touch his face, she whispers as if anyone could hear her “yes, Jack. Yes today. Yes tomorrow, it would’ve been yes two years ago.”
The overly excited boy all but smashed his lips to hers for the second time. “I can’t believe I waited so long for this. I never want to stop.” Jack said in between kisses. “Come home with me, please.”
ミ★☆彡
unedited - wrote on the tumblr app during a storm while having to shelter in place at work because of a tornado warning. I’ll rewrite later & there will be a pt 2.
#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fic#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes#nhl fics#nhl fluff#nhl fic#nhl writing#nhl imagine#nj devils fluff#nj devils fic#nj devils#nj devils fics#cay writes#writeblr#hockey fics#friends to lovers#jack hughes x reader#i miss jack#nhl fanfiction#nhl player x reader
89 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
photosbyfaithphotography-blog
Welcome to My World
mayorkatie
Animal Forest
inside-the-asylum
American Horror Story
kadetbomba
Sharing is Caring
piltoversprodigy
Arcane Shift