Tumgik
#(which he sometimes does to new people but did it have to be today)
winterzsurprise · 10 months
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A New Beginning || Miguel O'hara
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Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader
Summary: You tell Miguel that you're ready to have a child with him.
Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, breeding kink, unprotected sex, big dick Miguel, creampie, vaginal fingering, brief blowjob scene, soft sex that turned rough later on, Miguel kinda whimpered lol.
Period is gone and came the asexual lil shit who can't write smut anymore lmaooo. I have two other plots just waiting to be finished (something about being paralyzed by his venom and needy sex after a death scare) but aaaaaaaaaaa. This is so shit, I apologize lmao.
mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi cielo- my sky (correct me on this please)
“I think I’m ready.”
Miguel didn’t respond for the longest time, focused on frying the vegetables. Clearing your throat you tried again.
“Miguel? I think I’m ready.”
“For what exactly? What trouble are you brewing up again?”
Sensing his dedication towards completing his task, you grew doubtful of your decision of dropping the news to him. 
Miguel, always tuned in to your moods even without seeing you, immediately turned off the stove and turned to face you with crossed arms at your prolonged silence.
“Alright, what is it?”
Now seeing the permanent frown in his face, you wondered if he’s even as ready as you are. Being the leader of the inter-dimensional spider society and a chronic over-worker, you could see him putting his job first as the protector of spider people since he sometimes does it with you.
But you’ve seen how his eyes lingered a little too long on Mayday and Peter B whenever they visited. You’ve seen him replay clips of a future that doesn’t belong to him and watched him mourn over a child that never existed in this universe.
Having a kid with both of your features…
It doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.
“I’m just… thinking about kids you know?”
The twitch in his eyebrow betrayed his uninterested expression. “Oh? What about them?”
“I think I’m ready for one.”
Tensed silence immediately filled the room, locking your throat close as you waited for a change in his stance with bated breath. You saw the surprise flash in his eyes but he made no move to indicate his interest in the subject. 
If it wasn’t for Mayday, you wouldn’t have thought about bringing a child into a world where she'd have parents from two separate dimensions, both superhuman and known as saviors of the world. Not to mention, while being an active crime fighter in your own universes which is not an ideal occupation for a pregnant woman.
Even then, you had your IUD removed a few days ago when you returned to your world for a visit and only today did you guys had the time to bond.
As you linger in the silence, regret starts to crawl up your throat. Maybe it's a stupid decision after all...
His sigh sliced through the thick atmosphere before his voice did. “Are you sure?”
Miguel, no matter how unsure his voice sounded, had a hungry look in his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about it for so long and... I think I’m ready now.”
You swear you could hear the clock from the living room tick beside you as you wait in anticipation. 
tik!
tok!
tik!
tok!
tik!
Miguel reached behind to remove his apron, crumpling them like a paper ball and tossing them to the side before crossing the distance between the two of you with one large step, hands surging to cup your cheeks to pull you in for a deep kiss.
You melted in the soft plushies of his lips, hands rising to tangle themselves into his hair. 
His hands wandered down to your rear, tapping it rapidly and you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist before proceeding to walk blindly to the bedroom, relying solely on muscle memory.
Miguel’s lips melded with yours smoothly with years of experience, his taste familiar in your tongue. Your fingers combed through his hair, tugging him closer as the door opened behind you.
It didn't take long before you hit the softness of your bed. His body dwarfs yours in every way and the realization never fails to send jolts of pleasure down your spine.
There's greed and desperation in Miguel's hands as he tore through your shirt and bra, freeing your breasts that pebbled with goosebumps from the cold air. Despite the hunger and rush in his movements, his touch is the softest it has been in a long, long time since the needy sex from months ago after a death scare.
His fingers found your stiff nubs and pinched them, sending sparks crawling over your body, stirring your nerve endings awake. Miguel's lips parts from yours to pepper kisses down your skin, leaving warmth in its wake.
You quickly made work of his top, pushing it over his head before he latched onto your skin once more like a bloodsucker.
"You're so pretty, mi cielo." He groaned, kneading your mounds together. "I lose my mind just thinking about your tits growing full with milk for our kid." 
You couldn't suppress the shudder racking your body at the mention of having your own child, together. A low moan left your lips and Miguel's hand wandered lower to tug on the bands of your shorts and underwear.
"You don't mind this one, yeah?"
"Rip it off."
He didn't need to hear it twice, the sound of fabrics tearing off into two echoed in the room and plant both your legs on either side of him, leaving you bare for him to see. Sitting back on his heels, he admired his work as he caressed your inner thighs with small circles, a promise of what to come.
"As much as I want to eat you up, I want to see you falling apart my dick more."
You nod feverishly, sighing as deft fingers found your clit to roll in tight circles, occasionally scooping down to spread your wetness around your folds. Heat explodes from your abdomen, spreading across your body as pleasure slowly ricochets inside you.
His finger enters you, curling up to caress the spongy part of your walls and you moan. Miguel spared no time adding another digit inside you, picking up a fast pace and your body arched, hips twisting to follow his ministrations.
But before the pressure in your abdomen builds up, he pulls away to your distaste.
"Fuck…" You whined.
"Stop whining and get on top of me. I wanna see you bounce."
He slipped off of his pants and boxers, tossing it to the side before switching positions with you. You reached down to his hardened length, pumping him leisurely while he ran his calloused hands up and down the meat of your thighs.
You eyed the clear pre-cum erupting from his tip with every pump with fascination. Miguel's hands tensed on your thighs as a warning yet you bent down to lick off it off. A salty taste explodes in your mouth and Miguel grunts, nails digging into your flesh.
"Mi vida..."
"You're such a mood killer." You said, earning yourself a pinch in your thigh and you giggled.
You positioned his intimidatingly huge dick directly under you and with a deep breath, you let the tip sink into you. It's barely in and you're struggling with his girth stretching you wide open. Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel rubbed circles on your hips.
"You can do it, baby. You know you can take me in."
With the slight pushing from Miguel, you eased him in with a mewl. He feels deeper and fuller this way and you gasped at him, nudging more of him inside.
"Fuck..! You're so deep..! I c-can't—"
"You can and you will. I'll make sure you do."
"P-please... Ah!"
Surrendering your control to him momentarily, he gladly took up the mantle. Your mind grew fuzzy at how full he makes you feel and it pleased Miguel to no end to see you drunk on his cock. Reaching up to your neck, he pulls you down for a dizzying kiss.
You whimpered into his mouth as he gained some speed, nudging the roof of your uterus, keeping your mouth hang ajar, spouting gibberish and noises of absolute ecstasy. His hands roamed your body with the greed of an explorer in a new land yet tender as if handling a feather whilst you tugged hard on his locks.
"You feel so tight around me. God, you feel heavenly." He grunts as he drives himself in your heat.
Your body grew feverish as your heart grew fuller from the softness of his touches and kisses. The knots in your abdomen twisted tighter, your impending climax arriving a little early.
"I-I'm close…"
"Give it to me, come all over my dick. I want it all."
Picking up speed, you cried onto his shoulders as he plummets into you hard. Your hips grew erratic as you followed the intensity of his thrusts, his hands grabbing the globes of your ass to guide your heat onto his. 
"Come for me, cariño."
Your whimpered whispers of his name filled the room as you tip closer to the edge.
The knots in your abdomen unfurl and you come, trembling on top of him with a shout. He grunts as the tightness brought by your end, hugged his girth firmly. His hot pants fanned your ears as your climax encouraged him closer, the sound of his pleasure sent sparks throughout your body and swells your chest with pride.
"Take all of me, baby. You want it yeah? Want me to fill you up real bad? Want me to breed and knock you up?"
"Yes yes yes…! I want it please please please!"
Miguel protectively wrapped his arms around you as he came, exploding and painting your insides white with a deep groan. His arms only tightened around you, forbidding you from leaving.
Flipping you both, he sits up to stare at where you both connected with lust clouded eyes. Pulling out, you groaned at the feeling of his seed pulse out of you and Miguel clicked his tongue.
"You're wasting them."
Scooping them up, he plunged them into you and your thighs twitched from the intrusion. You let your eye close as your soul slowly settles back into your body, exhaustion weighing your eyelids shut.
The sound of wet squelch of his fluids mixed with yours burned your cheeks and you forced yourself to focus on the feeling of his fingers plunging his seed back in, pleasurable albeit a little painful.
Miguel halts, only to bring your legs up to your shoulders, stirring you awake from your momentary rest to meet the wicked gleam in his dilated eyes as he pinned your thighs down and loomed over you.
"Don't even think of sleeping tonight or tomorrow. We haven't even started."
7K notes · View notes
gasstationlady · 6 months
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GUTS | a lando norris social media au | pt. 2
pairing: lando norris x singer!reader, ex!drew starkey x reader
drew is still hung up on y/n, but the grid’s new it couple couldn’t care less.
notes: final part of guts!! thank you so much for all the love you guys showed the first part <3 and dw i have so many more smaus in the drafts! tried to write and add a bit more but i ran out of space :/ i hope the plot makes sense! i feel like bc i know how i wanted the story to go i can't rlly spot the plot holes as easily.
disclaimer: NOT PROOFREAD. let's pretend that jennifer lawrence "kym illman" picture is olivia lmfaooo. btw the events in “GUTS” sometimes does not line up with the schedule followed in real life. again, no hate to drew and, now also, to ppl on the today show aha. (CONGRATS LANDO FOR P2 AHHH)
masterlist ⋆ previously
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yourusername
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liked by landonorris, drewstarkey and 4,810,592 others
yourusername thanks for having me vmas!!!! <3
View all 22,504 comments
yourbestie STUNNING
user pls not drew liking her post when he doesn’t even follow her 😭😭😭
↳ user no he’s actually so painfully desperate lmaoo
↳ user i’m glad lando and y/n are just ignoring him
↳ user girl i’m not, i want the drama AHA
user love u more than anything
user lando liking and the two of them now following each other 🤔 yup him and y/n are forrr sure together
↳ user yea after the deuxmoi post and lando’s soft launch it’s basically confirmed at this point
↳ user i wonder if she’ll be attending the next gp bc i’d actually die and then come back to life if it happens
user you look BEYONDDDDD 😍😍
user are we fr just gonna ignore drew like..
thetodayshow
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liked by landonorris and 67,298 others
thetodayshow It’s GUTS day! We loved having @/yourusername on the TODAY plaza. 🍒🎤🧡
We sat with Y/N to talk about her new album and recent scandals surrounding the topics of her work. “I just write songs; it’s not my job to interpret them for people.”
Tune in on our Youtube channel for extra clips of our interview with Y/N and her performances!
View all 342 comments
user SHE ATE THOSE PERFORMANCES. DEVOURED.
user some of those questions were a bit invasive
↳ user i was thinking the same thing, but y/n handled that rlly professionally
user omg how have her vocals gotten better 😭
user lmaoooooo i see you hiding in the likes lando
↳ user it’s so cute that he’s following her activities 🥹🥹
↳ user he’s probably here bc of what she said in the interview
↳ user wait i didn’t watch everything, what did she say??
↳ user so they asked how she felt about her exes being a popular topic on the internet, and so she said “I just write songs; it’s not my job to interpret them for people.” they also asked about drew and whether they’re going to get back together (which, may i add, felt a little rude to me) and y/n replied with “Those who I’m close with can reach me anytime. I tend to not focus on anyone else.”
↳ user thank you for summarizing!! doing god’s work fr 🫡
user y/n handled the situation perfectly
↳ user no bc the way she said not too much but enough to stand up for herself and her privacy
user AHAHAHAHA SHE RLLY SAID AINT NO WAY SHES GOING BACK TO DREW
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ynupdates
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41,086 likes
ynupdates Y/n seen arriving in Singapore!
View all 462 comments
user wait you’re lying??? actually? waaait 😭
user IS SHE GOING TO THE GP OMG PLS
user i mean i knew they were together but imagine a paddock appearance 😩😩 i don’t think we can handle it guys
user if she makes an appearance at the paddock with lando, i don’t understand why he didn’t just go as her date for the vmas too 😭😭
↳ user i doubt they wanted to hard launch at the vmas lol y/n was barely even in the audience, tbh i think she left early
↳ user y/n has said before that award shows make her rlly anxious, so yea she probably didn’t want too much attention on herself esp with all the drew drama
user did i miss something, i thought lando was still in ny? why didn’t they just travel together?
↳ user lando probs had to leave earlier bc practice started on friday, and y/n still had a few tv show performances which i’m assuming is why she arrived today instead
kymillman
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51,159 likes
kymillman F1’S NEW FAVORITE COUPLE
The first driver to arrive this morning was Mclaren driver Lando Norris. For the first time he is joined with his new girlfriend, Y/N L/N, a famous Filipino-American pop singer.
For A3 prints, hand-signed & numbered by a range of drivers/team principals head to kymillman.com
View all 343 comments
user omg it’s happening it’s happening
user HEY SIRI PLAY THAT SHOULD BE ME BY JUSTIN BIEBER
user this pic should be put in the louvre that is how monumental it is
user THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT?? FROM KYM??😭😭
user first💔hard💔launch💔is💔a💔paddock💔appearance💔
user the hand holding 🥹🥹
user don’t know if i’m more jealous of lando or y/n
user damn god really out here choosing favorites
user they’re already becoming my comfort couple omg i can’t i love them so much
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landonorris
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liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,135,226 others
landonorris Singapore 🥈
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user so proud of you lando!!
user AHHHH y/n cameo
user god idk if i'm ever going to get used to seeing y/n with lando
user SHE LOOKS SO GOOD
user yay carlando podium !!! 🥹
— — —
8 months later
landonorris
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liked by yourusername, yourbestie and 4,475,987 others
landonorris Happy one year, love ❤️
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yourusername there's nothing i love more than those chips
↳ landonorris 😐
user they're the reason i believe in love
user damn i think this is about to be lando's most liked post lmaoo
user the fact that he calls her love 😭😭
user luckiest man alive i stg
user how does she always look so good
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 6,788,335 others
yourusername cause i love to love, to love, to love you
View all 35,719 comments
landonorris that guy's pretty handsome
↳ yourusername very :)
yourbestie LOVE seeing you happy
user omggg i'm crying i can't believe its already been a year
user might sleep on the freeway today
user let the light in is such a cute song to dedicate to someone
user LOL not the third pic
user i love them so much 🥹
user if you ever break up, love isn't real
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earthtooz · 9 months
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x : DON'T GO :*+゚
in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.
warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one
a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!
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in his new life, blade has always felt cold.
he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 
your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.
the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 
it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.
today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 
he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.
to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 
not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.
it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.
the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 
“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.
“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.
“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”
“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.
“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”
“none of your business.” 
kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 
“y/n got ambushed.”
his world freezes over.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.
clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 
it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.
elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 
his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 
so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 
he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.
for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.
and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 
he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.
you stand on the other side.
is this a dream?
“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”
he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.
you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 
but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 
“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.
“don’t.”
turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 
“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 
but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 
stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).
then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 
because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 
“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”
he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 
“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 
so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.
“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”
“-you left without saying goodbye.”
you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”
whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 
instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 
“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”
“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”
“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread
“i wont.” 
“please don’t go.”
“i’m here, aren’t i?”
blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 
“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”
he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 
afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 
you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 
“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.
he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 
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© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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theminecraftbee · 3 months
Text
"Well hello there Secret Keeper!" Scar says, chipper. "It's a bea-ut-i-ful day today here on the Secret Life server, and I'm here for my daily hearts for winning! I have to say, it is gorgeous today. Really a lot easier to keep the rain away without other players, what with sleeping through the night not being a problem at all! Did you know, by the way, that sleeping and rain are connected? I didn't until recently, but by golly, they sure are! Can you imagine? The world is full of so many strange things."
The Secret Keeper, being a big dumb stone statue, doesn't reply. Scar's beginning to think it's just rude. It sure replies whenever he hits the button, which is the first step in his morning routine these days. He's gotten better at dodging damage, really, even with the nearly infinite hearts! He's just not so good at dodging skeletons and creepers and such that he shouldn't top off every day.
He hits the button. He feels his health return to him. He gets a new task: Win Secret Life.
He snorts, a little bitter, to himself as he reads it and folds it into his pocket. "You know, I don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky that you're such a moron that you don't know what winning means. Your machine is broken."
No response, again, because the Secret Keeper is, as established, a big old dumb rock. Well, whatever. Besides, if he lingers on resentment and upset for too long, it might catch up with him! He's certainly let it catch up with him before. Why, a few days after he'd won, when he really had it sink in that he was for-real alone on a server covered in lightning burn marks and blood, he had a bit of a breakdown! There was sobbing, screaming, yelling at the world, the whole works! And when no one responded then, well--
"Did I just call you a moron? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" Scar says. "You know how I get sometimes. The world is beautiful and warm, but sometimes it gets a little hard to breathe around here! Now, where were we... oh, right! The trading post terraforming project! Now, we hit a bit of a snag the other day, what with the wandering traders I'd caught all sort of--dying--and all that, but luckily, more of them might show up any moment, and they really are vital to making the place feel alive and breathing. So today we're taking a break from that to build up some trees!"
He waves his arms like someone is listening. He'd like to imagine someone is. Grian told him he won--just because all the ghosts are quiet now doesn't mean they aren't there! And if that was a moment of temporary insanity, well, he probably--he needs to think it's not, is the thing! He absolutely needs to think it's not.
He hums and gathers more logs. His makeshift tree farms are pretty nice, if he does say so himself. He pauses as he hears distant howling and sighs. "I guess we will also be spending today cleaning up the wolf population! I swear, I have no idea what those people were thinking making a wolf spawner. A man takes a nap for a day and then the entire server is overrun with stupid white animals! And you know, I do hate having to cull the things, but, well, you know me. I've learned how to kill pretty well, I think, and really, dogs are easier to kill than people."
He grabs a sword from his chest and sharpens it. He keeps it perfectly clean so that there isn't too much blood on it. Good thing, too; most of the blood would probably be his. He's a bit clumsy, after all. He cuts his fingers on it all the time. No matter how well he bandages up his hands, he just keeps making them bleed, drip, drip, dripping blood on every path he walks down. No matter how hard he works to clean up his massive building projects, the little splatters of blood follow him, so he's sticking to dark colors where he can.
The flowers will probably show the blood, he thinks. The flowers and trees he's building. Hopefully, the blood doesn't stand out too much. It feels wrong, in a world where there are no bodies.
He stands up. He heads in the direction of today's pack of unwanted pests. He sighs. "You know, I know your question is, well gosh, Scar! All the previous winners died. When are you going to finish it off and kill yourself? And wow, that's a pretty dark question. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking, really." He laughs. It's not funny. Who cares.
Instead, he shakes his head.
"And, well, you have to understand. I'm not done building yet! I can make my base so much nicer looking! And besides, you're still handing me hearts. If I get hurt, I can just come back and get more from you! If you want to die, you have to kill me yourself. You fucking cowards!"
No response.
He sighs. "Well, that's enough of that for today. Sorry, I'm feeling kind of morose. It's all this sunshine! Can't be good for a man. Did you know populated servers rain more often than unpopulated ones? It's true! It's because people don't sleep enough. But here I am, getting all the sleep I need. Now, time to go kill some dogs and build some trees! I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon, can you?"
His hands hurt. He ignores it. He ignores a lot of hurt, these days. It's not like it's hard.
782 notes · View notes
genshin-obsessed · 3 months
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Rent a Genshin Boyfriend!
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This is inspired by a dream lol but it’s also probably influenced by a video I was recommended on YouTube. My x reader blurb is in pink and is just something in addition i wanted to add that would otherwise break immersion (and does it anway :') ).
Characters: Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Baizhu, Kazuha, Heizou, Cyno, Alhaitham, Wriothesley, Lyney
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Hello! Welcome to Genshin Boyfriend Rentals! We have a wide array of men that may meet your temporary dating needs, assuming you've got the money.
There are a few rules we need to go over beforehand, however. Please keep these in mind as you browse!
The Boyfriends have the right to leave during the date for any reason. If you believe it was unfair, you may contact support to potentially get a refund.
The Boyfriends are real people with feelings, please treat them with respect and refrain from pushing their boundaries.
No sexual requests of any kind. Attempting to do so will make him leave and you will not get your money back. They are boyfriends for hire, not escorts.
There are a few rules set by the Boyfriend, himself, which will be sent to you upon selection and payment. Please do your best to adhere to the rules for the best experience!
Are you looking to experience a polyamorous relationship? Feel free to hire more than one at a time! Their compatibility is written on their profiles but those are general suggestions!
Let's begin, shall we? The Boyfriends vary by region, please select the one that best suits you! If selecting more than one, keep in mind you will be the sole focus, but can ask for a slight change if you wish.
These Boyfriends are currently available for today!
┍━━━☽【❖】☾━━━┑
━━ Mondstadt ➺ Venti ➺ Kaeya ━━ Liyue ➺ Xiao ➺ Baizhu ━━ Inazuma ➺ Kazuha ➺ Heizou ━━ Sumeru ➺ Cyno ➺ Alhaitham ━━ Fontaine ➺ Wriothesley ➺ Lyney
┕━━━☽【❖】☾━━━┙
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Venti | ★★★★☆
550 Mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
A maximum of 8 hours per day.
Available for overtime events that may extend into multiple days but prices vary.
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Lyney, Cyno
Ever wanted to be serenaded by a bard? Need someone to help you out of your comfort zone? Venti's your guy! Venti is the excitable boyfriend. He’s chirpy, knows the best places to go, is enthusiastic about every and all dates. He tends to be very loud and cheerful, so if you're looking for some excitement, he's the best!
He’s very good with shy people and doesn’t have a preference for gender so he’s great for anyone who’s new to renting a boyfriend. Venti is also great at comforting. Did you lose someone recently? Are you feeling down about life? Feeling like everything is at a standstill? Venti is great with his words and will do his best to cheer you up.
His favorite place is visiting a bar and his favorite thing to do is perform. He previously worked as a bard but has now moved to joining us in our endeavors as a Rental Boyfriend!
"I promise with me you'll be smiling until your face hurts! Or your money back!"
Venti is mindful of how much money he spends. He understands why expenses are covered by the renter, but he still feels bad sometimes. Not only that, he's not exactly cheap either. So, when he ever goes on a date with someone who can't exactly afford dinner or whatever, he comes up with other date ideas that could be entirely free! However, Venti is usually hired for his empathetic side. He's great at understanding loss and loneliness and has plenty of loyal customers who he meets with at least once every two weeks. You can be one too, if you'd like.
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Kaeya Alberich | ★★★★☆
575 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 8 hours per day.
Is only available for up to 24 hours only, and prices vary.
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Heizou, Kazuha
Do you need a boyfriend who's just great at flirting and making you feel like the most beautiful human being on the face of Teyvat? Meet Kaeya! He's quite popular as he's great with both newbies and veterans at renting a boyfriend. He's very charismatic and usually loves to fluster his partner. Kaeya is not a big spender, so don't worry about expensive dates. He's great at improvising and is just looking to make you happy!
His favorite place to visit is the bar, but he also enjoys things like picnics and window shopping. He's not a demanding Boyfriend so if you'd just like to have some company at home, he's right there with you!
Kaeya is more physically affectionate. He loves hugs, cuddles, often gives cheek kisses and will most likely always be holding your hand. If this is something you aren't a fan of, we recommend you hire someone else but can also talk it over with Kaeya, himself, if you'd like.
"Whatever you wanna do is ok with me. After all, I think the day should be dedicated to someone as special as you."
Kaeya has a tendency to forget faces if it's been a long time, so if you're renting him with a long span in between, he may actually forget you completely. He does feel really bad and does his best to play it off, but sometimes it doesn't work out. Don't worry! He's got a plan for that too! If you're a loyal patron though, he will inevitably remember you.
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Xiao | ★★★★✬
650 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 6 hours per day.
Not available for overtime events.
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Cyno, Lyney
Meet Xiao! He's not very excitable, doesn't talk a lot, and lets you do your thing. He's mainly for people who don't want a talker and prefer to do an activity with someone. Whether it be painting, watching a show, playing video games, knitting, doing puzzles, or meditating, Xiao is the perfect choice! He's got a very calming atmosphere around him and will 100% help you relax!
Xiao speaks through touch for the most part. If you need some form of physical affection, he can provide. If you want to cuddle, hold his hand, or just lay on his lap, he's happy to provide given you ask permission first.
!! If you're new to renting a boyfriend, Xiao is NOT recommended !!
"I'll do whatever you want to do, so don't feel pressured to plan something extravagant. Just be you and we'll have fun, I guess."
Though Xiao has his charm and is extremely handsome, his rating simply relies on those who like his personality type which is specific. Sometimes people want a Boyfriend who's all cool and quiet like him, but tend to realize it's not as fun when they're actually with him. He does have a few tricks up his sleeve for people like those, but will more often than not just let them crash and burn and helps them get a refund for any time he didn't spend with them. He is who he is, some people like him, others do not. His popularity has skyrocketed recently and he's pretty much on par with Boyfriends like Kazuha, Kaeya, and Wriothesley.
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Baizhu | ★★★★☆
500 mora/hr
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 8 hours per day but can be booked for multiple days together. Maximum of five days.
Available for overtime events. Prices vary.
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Alhaitham, Wriothesley
Are you feeling a little under the weather? Don't have the ability to grab medicine? Just need a little company while you recover? Look no further than our very own doctor Baizhu! As a practitioner of medicine, Baizhu has numerous methods to help you feel better.
He'll help you take your medicine, make you meals for swifter recovery, and is more than happy to give you some much needed company. Don't worry about getting him sick, he knows the proper precautions.
"Remember, health comes first. If you don't know how to get better, I'll be right beside you."
Baizhu actually prefers to work with people who are sick. Whether they have terminal illness or temporary, he's more than happy to provide any sort of companionship to those who ask for it. He's actually helped find more serious, life threatening illnesses before and has saved a number of people like that. Baizhu is a softer boyfriend, willing to sit beside you and stroke your hair as you attempt to sleep. He's the only Boyfriend who can be booked for multiple days in advance, others work on a daily basis only.
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Kaedehara Kazuha | ★★★★★
600 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 10 hours per day.
Available overtime events as well as holidays. Prices may vary
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Venti, Lyney
Looking for a soft boyfriend? Are you trying to learn poetry? Perhaps working on poetry? Look no further than Kazuha! He's a new addition to the Genshin Boyfriends but you'd never know if we hadn't told you beforehand.
Kazuha has a more artistic side to him that he loves to show off. As a former wanderer, he's got plenty of stories for inspiration. Are you looking to maybe take a hike? He's definitely ready for one! Maybe you'd just like to find a field and lay down in it. Kazuha knows some great places already! He's both soft spoke and a gentle soul. If you need to vent or are looking for advice, we recommend no one other than Kazuha!
"I know what the description says, but I also love to try new things. If you want a partner for that, I'm happy to be one. You don't need to try anything new alone."
Even though he's new, Kazuha's quite popular and will often be booked months in advance. As he's said before, he loves trying new things and is happy to do that with someone else. Do you wanna go skydiving for the first time with a boyfriend but don't have one? Kazuha! Do you wanna go swimming with sharks for the first time? Kazuha! Maybe you're looking to rent a boyfriend for the first time but don't know who would be best for you. Kazuha!
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Shikanoin Heizou | ★★★★☆
500 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 6 hours per day.
Available for some overtime events; not ALL holidays. Prices may vary
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Kaeya, Cyno
Ever wanted to say that you dated a detective? Maybe you're looking to spice up your boring choices in partners! Heizou is at your service. He's intelligent, a great fighter, and has quite the silver tongue. He has a mischievous side to him and loves to get into a bit of trouble.
Worry not, you'll never be in any true danger, but if you're looking to get your blood pumping, Heizou might be able to do that. If you don't have a date idea, worry not. He does and he'll make every penny worth it! Though, if you'd like something a bit slower, Heizou doesn't mind taking you to some of the spots he likes to relax in. You two can sit and talk to just get to know one another before going out and doing something. He's very flexible in this case!
"Don't be shy, take a chance on me. If you're a true crime junkie, I'm basically your soulmate."
Believe it or not, Heizou's never gotten in trouble before for any of this. It's not like he brings his renters to the crime scenes or shows them anything like that, but he's got plenty of stories. He's also more playful and is the best recommended for any renters looking for an adventure! Unlike Kaeya, Heizou never forgets a face. Ever.
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Cyno | ★★★★★
800 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 5 hours per day.
Overtime events only include birthdays and must be under 12 hours. Prices may vary
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Heizou, Xiao, Venti
Are you a lover of "bad jokes"? Are you looking for a more serious boyfriend? Do you want someone who can strike fear into the hearts of criminals? Look no further than Cyno!
Though Cyno has a serious side to him, he's a lover of jokes and reverts to them to relieve tension. He's got a wide array so there won't be any repeats. If you're ever sad, he'll bring out his best and hope that at least one of them puts a smile on your face.
"Why are pigs good valets? They're excellent parallel porkers. Get it? Instead of using the word park, they used-"
Cyno actually joined the agency as a joke. Yet, somehow, he managed to get to the top extremely quickly. For all the Sumeru Boyfriends, he often takes first place. He's also stolen first place from Wriothesley in the April popularity poll. He was tempted to quit but was begged to stay and... well, now he finds a type of joy in pretending to be boyfriend. Not at all what he expected the day he joined. Cyno is also great at memorizing names and faces. Once you go on a date with him, he won't forget you and will even make it a thing to greet you as if you two have been dating for a while and he just hasn't seen you in a while.
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Alhaitham | ★★★★☆
700 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 6 hours per day.
Available for most overtime events as well as holidays. Prices may vary
No gender preference.
Best compatibility: Baizhu, Wriothesley
Is there a test coming up that you didn't study for? Did you fall asleep in class and miss an entire lecture and now you don't know how to do that Statistics assignment? Well, look no further than Alhaitham!
He's the smartest we got and is the best tutor you'll ever find. From being eye candy to intelligent as hell, there isn't a subject he can't help teach. Do not make that chemistry joke with him, he will be disappointed.
Alhaitham knows the best way to increase work productivity and will help you get through your day with any type of work you have. He knows when to take breaks and will always have the perfect snacks prepared. Just make sure you can keep up with his strict routine!
"If you need help, just ask for it. I wouldn't want you to fail your classes."
!! Not the best with romance !!
While he's not good with the romance aspect of being a boyfriend, he's very good with studying. He often finds himself busiest during finals weeks and will limit his time with everyone to just three hours per day. These are the days where he's working from morning to night and only has enough time to sleep. He's very good at tutoring and often receives letters and gifts of thanks afterwards. He can still do dates and such (maybe a study date) or just a regular one, but he tends to be more awkward in that sense as he's not very used to it. Over time, he's learned a good way to reward the renters. Kisses on their cheeks tend to help a lot. He'll also let you take short naps on his lap and will even massage your shoulders if needed while you work.
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Wriothesley | ★★★★★
1200 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of four consecutive days for a total of 96 hours.
Only available for special events currently.
No gender preference
Best compatibility: Alhaitham, Baizhu
Are you looking for a duke who's great at fighting and was a prison administrator? What a coincidence, we have the perfect man for you! Wriothesley. While his name may be as confusing to pronounce as Worcestershire sauce, his companionship is just a legendary! He's charismatic, loves tea, can totally teach you how to fight, and has a voice as smooth as butter.
Wriothesley is tall, dark haired, and has been voted the most popular in the last four polls in a row! His intelligence and prowess speak for themselves and don't let anyone stop you from hiring him!
Need to scare off a trashy ex? Just looking for a handsome man to hold your hand as you walk down the street? Attending a wedding where everyone keeps pestering you to find a person to settle down with? Wriothesley's got you covered. He's great at memorizing family names, faces, and titles. He'll impress your family and get them off your back for good.
"Come and fall in love with me. I'll make it worth your time."
As stated above, Wriothesley has won the popularity poll for four months in a row and continues to dominate. While he's lost the position to others such as Kazuha, Xiao, and Cyno, he holds no bad blood between them and is often hired alongside another for the same renter. Due to his increasing popularity, he is the most expensive Boyfriend to rent BUT has made exceptions before. He's also a great choice to hire for a friend to surprise them as "their boyfriend for the day". He's a fast learner and yes, you will fall in love with this man. Come to terms with it before you hire him.
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Lyney | ★★★★☆
650 mora/hr.
All expenses must be covered by you.
Maximum of 8 hours per day. Works later hours as well.
Available for most events as well as holidays. Prices may vary
No gender preference
Best compatibility: Venti, Xiao, Kazuha
Ever wanted a private magic performance? Wanna see what it's like to date a magician? Look no further than our very own Lyney! Hailing from the land of water, Fontaine, he is a renowned magician!
Expect plenty of surprises as Lyney loves to catch people off guard. He tends to prefer simple dates, but grand ones are welcome if you insist. He is willing to teach you some small tricks, but most of them he won't reveal. Is he trying to steal your heart? Yeah, he definitely is.
If you're feeling sad or lonely, feel free to hire Lyney. He's willing to work late (meaning you can hire him at 10pm if you want) and he'll be at your doorstep within the hour.
Lyney is one of the few, other than Baizhu and Alhaitham, who are willing to work later in the day. Normally, most prefer to be hired earlier in the day so they have time to prepare and such before going on the date. Baizhu, Lyney, and Alhaitham are the few who can be hired after 8pm when most are unavailable. Lyney often brings some sort of gift with him, and like Cyno and Heizou, he's great at remembering faces.
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nostappen · 24 days
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— LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV. #CH1
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series summary: max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings for this chapter: lots of swearing, minor drama, some light angst.
↻ links : masterlist . next
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CHAPTER ONE # NO PEACE FOR THE WINNERS .
“I’m pretty sure this is his idea or his fault. I don’t know which one it is but I will figure it out,” you spit between whispers with Lewis on your way out of Mercedes building and the valet waits for you two outside the building with the car keys on his hand and the vehicle already parked. 
Lewis opens the passenger door for you and closes it after you are fully seated.
Usually, he does this out of pure chivalry and courtesy, but today he is afraid you’d rip the door of its inges if he doesn’t do it for you. With the amount of anger and stress you are carrying, you’d surely end up breaking something out of spite so he has to make sure his vehicle remains intact and you too. 
In moments like this he silently thanks any deity that exists for having your full trust because if you were left alone in this condition you would have caused major havoc around the office and outside for the public to see. 
“I think you are blaming the wrong person here, darling.” Lewis hops into the car and starts the engine, driving away calmly from the Mercedes building. “He clearly had no idea this was going to happen. We both saw it.” 
“I saw nothing,” you remark sternly. “I was too busy planning murder to even look at him.” 
“I think you and I should go on a drive near the beach, what do you say?” 
“I don’t need a drive anywhere, I need a gun.” 
“No, what you need is to calm down. ‘Kay?” Lewis stops at a red light and places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. “If you don’t think it through right now you won’t find a way out of this and you know it.” 
“There is no way out of this Lewis. You were there. It’s on my contract and his. We have to —.” 
You are interrupted by the sound of Hamilton’s phone going off. 
George’s contact appears on his screen and the driver puts him on speaker, dropping the device on your lap before moving forward with the car as the green light appears. 
“Sup,” George speaks cheerfully. “What did the dwarf do this time?” 
“I did nothing!” You yell, clearly frustrated,  and cross your arms like a little kid. “They are forcing me to date him. They’ve gone nuts! I swear, there is not a single working brain cell inside Mercedes at this point. Lewis left and took all of them with him. They are going bonkers if they think this is a good idea. How can this possibly be the solution to all of our problems?! No, wait, his problems! ‘Cause for once I did shit right and they —.” 
“That’s enough. Let me speak.” Hamilton interrupts you. “Listen, here is the news. Viewership has been rising exponentially this season because of Yn and Max’s rivalry during races, but for some reason, the public is convinced they are dating secretly or at least that they have a thing for each other.” 
“Okay…” George trails off, unsure of what else to say to the information he and everybody else knew since the season started. 
Fans sometimes came up with weird ideas and dynamics, Ynstappen was one of them. 
It only took one interview after the third race of the season for people to begin speculating about the nature of Max and your relationship. 
The man simply stated that he admired your tenacity and suddenly the public was convinced the reign champion had a thing for you. 
Of course, Verstappen wasn’t one to pay compliments to other drivers often, but to think one single positive comment about you could cause this much ruckus was a shocking surprise. 
Perhaps they saw a new dynamic forming, with your personalities and driving styles being so different, the younger part of the audience found a potential pair in the making. Something interesting to keep up, and the overall masses were always on the edge of their seats whenever you two found yourselves racing against each other. 
This was the first season where Max had shown signs of struggling to remain in pole position, and more often than not, you being the reason as to why that happened. 
Even if you only won your first race recently, the previous ones had everybody engaged since you clearly were out there making sure he put in the utmost effort to remain first. 
Regardless, this rivalry and possible love/friendship the public had created between you two was nothing more than speculation, and more often than not, the mention of you both dating came up during conversations as an inside joke of sorts. 
Any staff that spent more than three days near you or Max knew you despised each other. You simply couldn’t see eye to eye on anything; you were way too different to get along well despite your efforts to remain respectful of each other’s presence. 
After months of futile attempts to remain civil, the public pressure, the constant fighting for dominance on each race, and the countless amount of rumors put a strain on your minuscule attempts to be somewhat friendly, and now you truly couldn’t stand the other. 
“Lately, the public has been favoring Yn way too much, since she’s the only one that can keep up with Max and he’s been getting tons of hate…well, more than usual.” 
“And?” George presses further, still not knowing why he should hear this information again. “Why did Yn say she is gonna date him.” 
“Because she has to,” Lewis sentences and turns left, taking the nearest exit towards the beach. “The viewership is increasing and the public is quite interested in all of us but it’s not enough. The marketing team is struggling to come up with new ideas to entertain the fans and we cannot seem to draw in new people to join the sport or keep tabs on us, but —.” 
“But everyone and their mothers know who Max Verstappen is and as a result, they know me. We are gaining some traction and so the teams came up with a marketing strategy,” you speak, cutting off Lewis. Your tone is much calmer now but truly you were in the brink of going nuts. “They want to pair us as a couple for the remaining of the season. This will gain some attention at first from the outsiders and will also help the fans spread news about the F1 like wildfire. More people will join the streamings just to see us interact and perhaps this will help me boost my career and also stop the haters from being on Max’s ass all the time. By the time the season ends we will quietly break up and then next year, more people will come and see us race against each other being exes, and hopefully, the attention we gain will be enough to also translate into positive numbers for the rest of the teams.” 
“Like a domino effect, right? You both catch the attention then we also gain traction from the new fans,” George reasons and you hum in response. “Great. I think it’s a bad idea.” 
“Thank God!” You exclaim. “It’s a no-brainer.” 
“Yeah, it sucks but it will surely work. Even if you guys end up getting bad press for some reason, the views and the interest of the general public will be there.” 
“Fuck you, George. I thought you were on my side.” 
“I am on your side, honey. This is a terrible idea, of course, but that doesn’t matter, does it? You’ve got no say in this.” 
Lewis points at the phone and then looks at you briefly as if agreeing with George’s words. 
He had mumbled something pretty similar once you both were out of the meeting room. 
There was an entire paragraph on your signed contract with Mercedes that stipulated your public figure would be entirely managed by the team. Even if you could take some liberties and show your real persona around, PR would run any narrative they wanted to the press and the public, so you had no opinion at the end of the day. 
“I’ve got no say in this…” You whisper, defeated, and sink into your seat. The anger washes off pretty quickly and is replaced by sadness. 
Lewis sighs, slowing down the car so you can see the beach clearly through your window but even as the sun shines directly on your side, you don’t even budge from your position. Your eyes fixate on your trembling fingers and the ex-Mercedes driver knows what will happen next, you will begin to tear up out of frustration. 
“I’ll call you later man. ‘Kay?” 
“Yeah, sure, just keep me updated and I’ll see you both during the afternoon.” 
Once the call is over the car fills with silence and neither you or Lewis cross any words until he parks the car and opens the door for you once again, encouraging you to step outside and walk towards the sand. 
It hits you the moment you stop near the sea. 
This whole publicity stunt does not bother you because you are forced to date someone in front of the cameras. That could be easily managed any day, but what truly does make your blood boil and your heart break is the fact that after this you will only become one more piece on Max’s game. 
Once the news reports on your supposed relationship, you will no longer be Yn but just Max’s girlfriend. All the hard work you put in throughout your first-ever season on F1 will go to waste. Every accomplishment you make will be tied to him and even the things you did before that will somehow end up connected to him too. You will become an extension of him because you simply cannot stand a chance against his legacy and popularity so far. 
Even if you try to shine on your own and keep the public entertained at the end of the day, you will be compared to him or paired with him. 
There would be no autonomy for you. 
“This is so fucking unfair.” The first tears start to roll down your cheeks and Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you softly into his chest. “I was supposed to be celebrating.” 
“I know dear, I know.” 
As your mentor and long-time friend, Hamilton also felt powerless in this situation. He had helped you train since day one and saw your potential. 
He knew joining F1 would be a difficult task but he was sure you’d win each challenge that was thrust upon you, yet he never fathom the possibility of you becoming some sort of object for the press instead of a driver only, and so, he had no way to prepare you for this nightmare. 
“Listen, we will figure out something to make you feel more comfortable during the rest of the season,” Hamilton tries to encourage you.
“I won. I was the fucking winner here,” you murmur defeated and separate from him. “Now everything’s gonna be about the relationship and him.” 
“You will keep on proving to them that you deserve the recognition, okay? We will figure it out. I promise.”
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@/notbabyn via instagram stories...
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comments under @/notbabyn 's latest post...
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@/lewishamilton and 405.789 liked this post...
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notbabyn . it's time to throw away the born to fail jacket because I just won my first F1 trophy ever babes ♡
PINNED COMMENT 📌
georgerussell63 the M for Mercedes upside down is a W, and the W is what we are taking home 👏🏻
notbabyn did you burn your last braincell trying to type that incredibly corny comment bubs? georgerussell63 i took the L :( but you are still a capital W and I congratulate you my little queen 🖤🤍 notbabyn awww ilysm king george <3🤍🖤
recent comments...
theyn.jpg miss yn who's hand is that in your insta story??
somewaglover can we take that story as a soft launch for your mistery boyf?
ynstappennation please tell me that's max's hand. please please
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“There, done.” 
Max retreats his hand awkwardly from yours and you sit up straight on the sofa, uploading the Instagram story and closing the app as soon as it is posted. 
Your nervousness can be seen by everyone on your team and RedBull’s. 
The situation isn’t ideal and this entire picture feels less like a soft launch and more like the beginning of a horribly written play. 
Silence follows after your words and Max spares you a glance, attempting to smile before George kneels down to your level, catching your attention and making your tense shoulders relax. 
“We will have the news reported by tomorrow morning. We don’t want the information to be spread during practice,” announces Toto with a bit of annoyance on behalf of the PR team and you nod. Everyone gets ready to leave the room but the man speaks once more, stopping you as you get up from your spot. “Yn, someone followed you and Lewis earlier.” 
Exchanging worried looks, you and George observe Toto, crossing your arms simultaneously. Max awkwardly moves away, not entirely sure if he should hear this conversation or not, so as a subtle way of saying goodbye, he leaves a free spot on the tiny sofa and starts making his way towards the door before Toto tells him to wait a second. 
“They took pictures, right?” You sigh and the man pulls out his phone, showing you multiple photos of you hugging Lewis and you crying as well. “Fuck sake.” 
“You need to be more careful. I’ve told you this multiple times. There are eyes everywhere.” Toto reprimands you. “Now the press is going to wonder why, in the wake of your perfectly fine relationship, you are crying in the arms of another man.” 
“That’s literally my mentor, Toto.” 
“They don’t care, Yn. They can post these pictures everywhere and run miles with it, so this is what we are going to do. We will post a blind item somewhere saying you were really frustrated this morning because you found out someone was threatening to leak pictures of you and Max on your latest date. You called for an emergency meeting at Mercedes and since Hamilton is your mentor he was there to support you.” 
“And what about me?” Max asks confused. So far the story only covers your side. 
From his perspective, while the whole fake dating does benefit him to a level, it serves no purpose to his career in the long run and he is irritated as it is by having to pose next to you, but since he had his own meeting during the morning and until now, he has only heard people giving you instructions. No one was willing to cushion his fall and that worried him. 
He wasn’t the biggest fan of the press and they did not like him much either. You, on the contrary, had a great start this season and were mostly supported just for being up against him on all races. 
It was quite unfair for you to get instructions and be saved for fucking up the fake dating story right from the get go and for him to get no say on the matter. If you were going to be guided through this carefully then he should too.
You were a couple now, right? If one of you screwed then the two of you would suffer the consequences. 
“What about you?” You ask confusedly and Max groans. “What?” 
“What’s my story? People are going to wonder why I wasn’t there to calm you down. I’m gonna look like a shitty boyfriend from the get go. As if I didn’t have enough with all the unwarranted hate I receive.”
“Man, I’m sure your team will cover your ass,” George intervenes. “But whatever you do is none of our business.” 
“Well, it should be damn it. This is supposed to benefit my public image.” Max bites back and you roll your eyes. “What? Are you getting irritated now, princess Yn? Aren’t you happy to be with me? I thought the deal would have you beaming with joy. It’s just one of the many things that was served to you on a golden platter.” 
“You son of a bi—.” You begin before Toto cuts you off. 
“We already have a story to cover you, Verstappen. No need to get all defensive.” The man turns to face the RedBull racer. “You will be stuck at your own building having an emergency reunion as well due to complications with your vehicle. You will find out about the news as soon as Yn returns to her home, which is an hour later.” Toto unlocks his phone, showing another candid picture of Yn walking towards the entrance of her house while on a call. “She will call you and let you know all about it and you both won’t meet each other until practice due to your busy schedules for the day and if the public complains about you not being there, the fans will surely excuse your absence and make sense of Hamilton’s presence since he had been her mentor and best friend for years now.” 
“And if they don’t?” Max pushes him further. 
“If they don’t buy it, Yn will apologize for the misunderstanding and explain to everyone that she has a tendency to seek comfort in her friends first and since this is her first public relationship she wanted some advice from someone close to her circle before approaching you with the news.” 
“So I’m the insecure girlfriend and the emotional girlfriend as well,” you fake a smile and finally move from your place with George right beside you. “Got it.” 
“Dear, this isn’t about what type of girlfriend you are, it’s about saving face.” 
“Yeah, whatever. I will go get changed for practice.”
“Wait,” Max intervens again before you can leave. “Shouldn’t we walk outside together? There are plenty of media people around the building. If we are going to sell the story, we should do it right. Let me walk you to the Mercedes garage.”
“Oh my god boyfriend! You are so cute. Please do escort me to my car,” you feing joy and wrap a hand around his wrist, pulling him closer. “Let’s go! I’m so ready.” 
Max mutters something in dutch before opening the door for you and closing it as soon as you two are outside, leaving George, Toto and the rest of the team inside. 
“You can let go of my wrist now, thank you very much.” 
“Nonsense. Grab my hand and walk me there properly, love.”  You pronounce the cute nickname with venom and Max clenches his jaw, getting irritated by the second. 
“Not all couples are all lovey-dovey.” 
“Well, my partner should be lovely to me.” 
“And if he isn’t?” You smile sweetly and put your hand on his, softly embracing it.
“If he isn’t lovely then I cut the brakes of his car and watch him die on a crash.” Your smile widens as you take a good look at his petrified expression. “Now be a good man a walk me to my car, love.”
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#taglist : @alilcloudy @chiliwhore @halleest @welovediaaxx @its-avalon-08 @hiireadstuff @prudyhoo @almostjollypizza @butterfly-lover @sunsshinesunny @tsukishitm-a @be-your-coffee-pot @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @ironmaiden1313 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @sargeantdumbass @asmoothoperator @brettlorenzi3 @lewisvinga @dr4g0ngirl @fruity-dirtbag @ladyladybuggg @woozarts @casperlikej @marshmummy @leclercdream @namgification
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scatteredskittless · 1 month
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hello!! i saw you wanted requests and I was wondering if you would be willing to write some platonic headcanons for the Hazbin Hotel crew with a reader who has chronic pain. (i totally get if you don't want to) thank you so much and I'm excited to see what you write in the future 😺
Hazbin Hotel Crew x Chronic pain having! GN! Reader
A/n: tysm for the request !! This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it’s okay :3 (if there’s anything I got wrong, please correct me)
Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain and disability (but like.. that’s pretty obvious lol)
Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌
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‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧
📻𖤐 After a while of Alastor observing you, as he does with most, he’d notice your body language and think the way you acted was a bit odd…
📻𖤐 Not in a bad way, he just didn’t understand at first why you sometimes visibly look like you were in pain or even just hobbling around to get somewhere
📻𖤐 it definitely raised his brow…
📻𖤐 Before actually approaching you and asking you about it, I’d like to think he made one of the egg boiz spy on you like he did in that one episode 😭😭
📻𖤐 I don’t know what he was expecting though. The only somewhat valuable piece of information he gathered from what the little talking egg had told him was that it saw you taking pain medication. Which did not narrow it down at all and not much of his curiosity had been quenched quite yet..
📻𖤐 So, one peaceful and early morning in the hotel, he decided it’d be best to just ask you about it.
📻𖤐 “My dear, are you feeling alright? You look to be quite discomforted…?” He’d ask casually as he took a sip from his coffee mug, one brow raised and his eyes fixed on yours, pretending like he hadn’t noticed this before today.
📻𖤐 After a chat, he was informed you had something called “chronic pain”. He asked a few questions, nodding when he got the answers and once he was satisfied, he walked off back to his quarters in the hotel.
📻𖤐 After all, he had so much research to do.
📻𖤐 Adding onto that last once I do feel as though Alastor would do more research on it when you decided to tell him about your condition.
📻𖤐 Mostly for his own benefit of learning something new since he hadn’t heard of this before… but it came in handy if you ever needed a bit of a helping hand.
📻𖤐 Like, if you happened to have a flare up or just a particularly bad day he’d sit with you and made sure you rested up.
📻𖤐 He wouldn’t verbally express it but he did take pity on you. How unfortunate you were in constant agony.
📻𖤐 He is a sadistic little fuck though so he’d probably find it mildly entertaining or at the very least fascinating to see what’d make you tick or was a challenge for you
📻𖤐 Although he’d try to be careful not to push you too much.
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‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧
🕸️ᥫ᭡ We all know Angel Dust doesn’t have much of a filter so it wouldn’t take him long to ask you why you could barely stand upright for too long or look like you’re genuinely struggling all the time.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ In fact, he’s more perceptive than people would like to think he is. He noticed it shortly after you two had met.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ He’d probably come off a bit strong, saying something along the lines of “toots? Ya alright over there? Ya don’t look so uhhh.. you don’t look too hot.” As he gave you a one over.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ You could tell he wasn’t trying to be insulting to you though, he was just concerned and wanted to know what was troubling you. It showed ever so slightly on the spiders face.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Once you explained to Angel your condition he felt bad. Like, huh? Whatdoya mean you sometimes have trouble even getting outta bed in the morning because of how much pain you’re in?? Sometimes you neglect your own basic needs because you’re in constant pain?
🕸️ᥫ᭡ As he tired to wrap his head around the thought, he’d ask if there’s anything he could do to help. Of course though, there wasn’t much he could do.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ From that day on, Angel would try to make things at least a little easier for you. You had earned the title of his friend, after all. Why would he let his friend suffer alone?
🕸️ᥫ᭡ He loves to cook and is pretty good at it so expect a few homemade meals on him at least a few times <3
🕸️ᥫ᭡ If you ever had a flare up you better fucking believe he’d sit there with you and just talk. He rambles like an old man lol
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Also 100% has movie nights with you with both of you guys’ favourite snacks.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Oh and of course his pig Fat Nuggets would be joining you two
🕸️ᥫ᭡ And thankfully the little guy adores you. Which gains some points with Angel
🕸️ᥫ᭡ The piggy would crawl into your lap if you were up for it. He’s pretty light and his oinks and squeals are bound to make you crack a smile
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel is no stranger to feeling pain, so he knows how much it sucks.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ That’s why I believe he’d be one of the best people to tell. You’re his friend and wants to make sure you’re okay as possible.
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‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧
🍺🃁 Husker, much like Angel, would notice almost immediately that something was up with you…
🍺🃁 At first Husk couldn’t place it. He just knew that he didn’t often see you standing up straight for long periods of time and that you looked like you were constantly unwell.
🍺🃁 Was it just bad migraines? He’s never really seen you drunk before so it’s not like it could be really bad hangovers.
🍺🃁 Plus, this has been going on since you arrived here so that seemed highly unlikely.
🍺🃁 Husk was the type of guy to keep it to himself though. If it didn’t concern him, why bother saying anything about it?
🍺🃁 One day though, you sat yourself down at the bar and asked for some water. This time however, you looked worse than usual, practically doubled over as you stared down at the bar.
🍺🃁 Even though Husk usually kept his mouth shut.. he couldn’t help but ask if you had a headache or something and if you needed some migraine medication.
🍺🃁 He wasn’t heartless.
🍺🃁 When you shook your head no slowly and told him you were just having a “flare up” he asked what you meant to which you gave a brief explanation of the condition you have.
🍺🃁 Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why you looked like you were constantly in pain. It’s because you were.
🍺🃁 He slid you the ice cold water gently and observed you for a few moments before going back to wiping the glasses as he spoke to you.
🍺🃁 “If you need something don’t be afraid to ask for it.” He’d say, his deep voice trying to be as comforting as it can while also maintaining somewhat of a nonchalant tone.
🍺🃁 Then, after that, it became routine for you to sit at the bar with him.
🍺🃁 He definitely wasn’t complaining. It was nice getting to know you and since you had a place to just sit and rest, he got to see you more often.
🍺🃁 you swiftly became good friends with him and he was pretty helpful when it came to your condition.
🍺🃁 he’d do his best to check up on you often :)
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‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧
🗡️☪︎ Vaggie heard about your chronic pain from Charlie so there wouldn’t be a need to tell her about it lol
🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d be a little awkward with attempting to help you out…
🗡️☪︎ Like it’s not like she can really make you feel better so it’s a bit of a struggle for her..
🗡️☪︎ But she does try her best though because she cares about you. You’re her friend.
🗡️☪︎ After a few motivational words from Charlie she’s good to go, attempting to comfort you.
🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d try to help by grabbing you stuff you wanted or needed and chatting with you.
🗡️☪︎ She’s actually quite fun to converse with, she’s pretty sweet when she wants to be and can hold good conversations :))
🗡️☪︎ She’s a good listener so if you wanted to vent or just had something on your mind, she’d listen.
🗡️☪︎ During flareups, Vaggie would just stay by your side and wait it out with you, if you needed anything, she’d be on it and would be back pretty fucking quickly too 💀
🗡️☪︎ Would put a random show on if you wanted a distraction and might let you rest your head on her shoulder if you so desired
🗡️☪︎ I can’t think of much else for her other than the fact she’d try her best. Maybe mess up a few times but ultimately she means well and tries to be as understanding as she possibly can be <33
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‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧
⭐️☀︎ The first thing you did when you arrived at the hotel was inform the very excited daughter of Lucifer that you had chronic pains so you might have to take it a bit slow when showing you around the Hazbin Hotel..
⭐️☀︎ And of course, Charlie being who she was, was very understanding and accepting of that fact.
⭐️☀︎ She’d heard about your condition before so making accommodations for you wouldn’t be an issue
⭐️☀︎ She’s a sweetheart so quite literally your biggest supporter
⭐️☀︎ Like, oh? You need something??Ohmygodwhydidntyoutellmesoonerhereitis :33
⭐️☀︎ Much like Vaggie, she’d sit and talk with you during your flareups
⭐️☀︎ Maybe make you a tea and discuss future plans and such for the hotel to get your mind off of things. Works sometimes surprisingly enough.
⭐️☀︎ She’s nice to talk to, very comforting vibes
⭐️☀︎ But it may get a bit annoying how many times she asks if you’re sure there’s nothing she can do to make your pain go away somehow lol
⭐️☀︎ Or even just how many times she asks if you need something. “Do you need anything? No? Are you sure? Okay…. But are you really sure?”
⭐️☀︎ Might stress herself out on occasion over it tbh😭🙏
⭐️☀︎ But she only means well, you know that.
⭐️☀︎ Her cat Keekee I’m sure would love to cuddle, the cute cyclopean kitty pushing its forehead against your hand for pets (only if you’re up to it, of course.)
⭐️☀︎ Asides from Angel, Charlie would definitely be the best person to tell in the hotel because like… genuinely she just wants to help In any way she can lol
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‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧
🧼𐙚 Niffty is quite blunt as well, very out there and doesn’t really think before she speaks half of the time it just kinda comes out 😭
🧼𐙚 So.. she’d probably take one look at you, and ask why you’re in pain.
🧼𐙚 To which you’d explain to the little one eyed maid your condition, she’d think about it for a moment before asking a shitload of questions about it to which you answer :))
🧼𐙚 Other than that I don’t think Niffty would like… really do much?
🧼𐙚 Maybe clean for you
🧼𐙚 But there’s not much else she would do, realistically, she might forget about it and then ask again. Once you remind her she remembers tho lol
🧼𐙚 During your flareups I do believe like the others she’d sit with you for a while…
🧼𐙚 Before spotting a roach and scurrying off to go take care of the pest. Once done, she’d come back and the cycle repeats.
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Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞
ᯓ★ Scatteredskittless
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mitraoki · 1 month
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genshin men brainrot!
note; just something to ease my way back into writing. i truly miss it a lot - considering how much i abandoned it during my recent semester(⊙_⊙;) i hope you guys enjoy it!
cw; a little suggestive, they're just smitten for u, violence but against other people!!
masterlist.
+ wriothesley has this thing where he likes being yanked by the tie. only from his beloved, of course. someone else comes into play and he’s choking them next. the way your fingers wrapped around the fabric, twisting them around your fist, bringing him in closer till your foreheads touch, and your breathing syncopates with his. whether it's for fun, or when the two of you are left alone in his office, that little smirk is painted across his face and the next thing you know, he's smothering you with kisses.
"someone's needy. not complaining, just anticipating is all."
+ on stressful days, alhaitham forgets reality. no, it's not the kind where he forgets to eat or drink, it's the kind where he becomes a full time machine. all he does is take orders, execute them perfectly, and tend to the various other tasks piling up on his desk. for someone always assuring you that his workload isn't as concerning as you thought it was; it was fearsome to see his questionable demeanor when he meets up with you in public. though, it all comes to end when the two of you are alone - did you flip a switch in him or something? - he's wrapping his arms around your figure from behind, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and whispering continuous apologies.
"...what can i do to make it up to you?" + neuvilette loves giving you gifts. it was that one time when you'd mentioned you loved the way he crafted it from scratch, bringing his ideas to life. in a way, it's another huge step for him to understand the little things of a human's life; and you were his number one supporter. there he sits during his free time, getting ideas from some of the melusines about what he should give you next. he takes notes of your likes and dislikes very quickly, but everything has to be perfect, just for you. anything to see that smile of yours bloom time and time again.
"if one's not enough, perhaps i can get you tons more! ....no such thing, this was a piece of cake."
+ kaveh loves styling your hair. he's definitely not the kind to judge the length of your hair - he can work with anything you prefer to have. from hair clips to peonies - his skillful fingers work through your locks, getting them done in a jiffy. he makes sure to not hurt you in the process, too. sometimes he even comes home with a new collection of hair clips, claiming that 'it would definitely look good in your hair!' every single time he finishes, he makes sure to get a good look at you, admiring every facial feature of yours. it ends up making you feel flustered, but he's just so in love with you. just what did he do to have such a lover like you...?
"as beautiful as always, my love."
+ not everyday is sunshine and rainbows for ayato. there were even times where your hand would reach out for nothing but a note on your shared bed, stating that he was off to settle yet another matter which frankly, did not require him at all. it was just regulations he had to follow. though you could see the slight changes in his handwriting, indicating that he wrote them all with a heavy heart. except for the 'i love you.' he wrote that with ease, a reassurance that he will return to your arms. when he does, he swings you around, pulling you in for the biggest embrace. he peppers kisses along the bridge of your nose, lingering around your lips, trailing them down to your chin, your neck. any place he could catch a glimpse of in the moment.
"i've never cursed at time as much as i did today. i hope it treats us well tonight."
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all created content belongs to mitraoki. reposts/remakes are not allowed.
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vanteguccir · 1 month
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Can you sing for me? | Chris Sturniolo
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Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N is a worldwide famous singer, but her favorite thing in the world is hearing Chris singing just for her.
Warning: None.
Requested?: No.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
When you are a world-famous singer who performs at least once a month, tours every year, models, acts, does interviews, is looked at everywhere by papparazzi and scouts, has articles published about you - often with false information -, it was safe to say that Y/N needed a place to rest, and hers was next to Chris.
Her resting with him was many things: spending hours marathoning mindless movies on the couch wrapped in a fluffy blanket and her boyfriend's arms, or when she could lay on Chris's lap and sink into a new book; sometimes it was when her house shared with the triplets smelled like her favorite cake, or when she spent the day making a new DIY that she found on tiktok...
Y/N was a girl with simple tastes, she didn't need much to be impressed, just a few minutes next to Chris were enough for her to feel like the luckiest girl in the world and finally be able to relax her body completely, getting rid of the adrenaline of having a life as an artist.
Don't get me wrong, Y/N loved her profession, since she was little her biggest dream was to be able to perform in front of a crowd and show her talent, and her fans provided that for her; seeing a sea of ​​people in front of her singing along to a song she composed made her see stars, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins when she picked up her pink microphone and could walk, dance, run and jump around the stage freely while singing the lyrics that referred to important moments in her life was incredible.
But nothing compared to waking up next to Chris in the morning and finding the sleepy face she loved so much along with his husky morning voice, or cooking homemade food for them and receiving a hug from behind that was always accompanied by "I love you so much". No moment in front of interviewers with overpriced magazines compared to when Chris won a round of one of his video games and got up from his chair with an excited scream, running over to where Y/N was and showering her with kisses.
Don't even remind me of the thousands of butterflies that flew together in Y/N's stomach when Chris wrote one of his love letters to her, delivering it along with several sweets and chocolates that she was addicted to - a weekly event in their lives.
Y/N's professional life was hectic and tiring, when she wasn't on a plane going from one country to another, she was in a studio recording a new song, or on a famous program answering very controversial questions.
So, when her busy day's were over and she could simply be Y/N, she would go straight into Chris's arms, where she knew she would receive comfort and security.
And that's exactly what she did today. After a turbulent day in the studio recording her new songs, making wrong high notes and having to redo them, crossing out written verses and rewriting them, the girl just wanted to get home and dive into her boyfriend's arms.
Y/N slowly closed the door to her shared room with Chris, her eyes wandering to the low lights and the almost imperceptible sound coming from the television, which was turned on in a random series.
Chris was already in bed dressed in his pajamas, the fluffy gray blanket covering his body up to his shoulders. He had his eyes almost closed from the intense tiredness, but he seemed to fight against it.
That was another thing that Y/N loved about Chris, regardless of what time she came home, he would always be waiting for her awake - more or less.
The girl walked with light steps to the nightstand on her side of the bed, taking the remote control and turning off the television, complete silence settling in the room.
"Hey, I didn't hear you coming." The brunette's sleepy voice caught Y/N's attention, who turned her face towards him, seeing him still lying in the same position, but with his blue eyes now very much open and looking at her. Probably having "woken up" due to the lack of the background sound.
"Hi my love, I just arrived. I'm just going to take a shower and come to bed with you." Y/N responded in a whisper.
"Okay." He said softly, looking at her from below with doe eyes.
Y/N leaned over the bed momentarily, sealing her lips over Chris' soft ones for a few seconds before getting up again and walking to the bathroom.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Y/N opened the bathroom door, the steam from the hot shower escaping momentarily as she crossed to the bedroom, already in her pajamas, before closing it again.
She walked slowly to the bed, seeing Chris lying on his side and holding his phone with one of his hands, looking more awake than before - or trying to -, the screen brightness turned to a minimum as his thumb scrolled through his Instagram feed.
Chris lifted his head slightly when he heard her approaching, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he stretched slowly, locking the screen of his phone and briefly placing it on top of his bedside table. He opened his arms, waiting for his girlfriend to lay there.
Y/N returned the smile, lifting the gray blanket and laying down on her side of the bed, snuggling in before burying herself in Chris's arms. She ran her nose down his neck, breathing in the fresh scent of soap on his skin, caressing the sensitive spot with her lips.
His hands circled her shoulders, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips at the comfort that the warmth post-bath of Y/N's body provided. The girl lifted her left hand, running it through Chris' hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.
"How was your day?" Chris asked softly a few seconds later, his blue eyes taking in his girl's tired features.
The deep sigh that escaped her mouth was answer enough for him: tiring.
"Did you eat anything? Are you hungry?" He continued, lifting his right hand - which was previously on Y/N's waist - and taking her left hand from his own hair, bringing it to his lips and sealing the soft skin for a few seconds, keeping his attention on her face.
"I had lunch, honey, I'm not hungry." She replied, a tired smile appearing on her lips at his affectionate gesture.
"Don't you want me to get you a snack? Lunch was many hours ago, kitten." Chris intertwined their fingers, only receiving a shake of her head.
"Can you sing f'me?" Y/N asked in a low, weak tone, her words barely noticeable.
A goofy smile grew on Chris's face, his eyes shining with excitement and love. He adored it when his singer girlfriend asked him to sing for her, it seemed too ironic to be true, but that was exactly what Y/N adored most.
"What do you want today? Rap, pop or rock?" He teased, a soft chuckle escaping Y/N's lips as she rolled her eyes, intertwining their legs together and scooting closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, placing a little kiss on the region.
"Anything is fine, I just want to hear you sing." She asked, eager to listen her boy's soft voice against her ear.
"Y/N baby, I dedicate this one for you." He joked, a smile on his voice before he started to sing a song that he knew that was one of his girl's favorite. "Stay bugging out, days on end..." Chris began slowly, resting his chin on his girlfriend's head, his voice now sounding hoarse and low, intensifying Y/N's drowsiness. "Days on end."
Her eyes began to flutter closed, her heartbeat calming down as the weight of her shoulders seemed to drain down her body, her limbs relaxing completely.
"Play this often, don't take this shit too seriously." He continued gently, stroking Y/N's back in circles with his left hand, feeling the area lose its previous tension. "Know you get insecure, wish I had more wisdom for you..."
Y/N took a deep breath lightly, allowing her mind to drift off into the world of dreams, Chris's voice becoming muffled and almost null against her ears, but her brain seemed to still register it, using it as a personal tranquilizer.
"Sleep, babe." Chris whispered after singing some more lines, noticing her closed eyes and slightly open mouth.
He pressed his lips to the top of his girlfriend's head, before snuggling closer against her body, allowing himself to sleep, Y/N's slow breathing serving as his favorite lullaby.
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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋
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randombush3 · 1 month
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dies irae
alexia putellas x reader
part one, part two, part three
words: 12425 (sorry not sorry)
summary: part four, the part that made me realise another part was necessary
warnings: drugs, alcohol, cheating, (a lot of???) vomiting, general angst tbh
notes: in all honesty, i started this with the intention of finishing the series, but it hit 12k and i thought maybe not x
weird little comment, but the last section was originally written in spanish (hear me out: i was on the plane and i didn’t want the people beside me to read it over my shoulder) and i’m still feeling a little iffy about my translation of my og version but oh well!
i hope you enjoy this and are content w waiting another five years for me to churn out the new FINAL part
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The sand is warm beneath your feet, each grain rubbing against your bare soles as you sprint. The ground under such surfaces often hardens, proven by the sweat trickling past the thin string of fabric that holds your bikini together. If the beach were not so private, you would be worried about wandering camera lenses. 
However, there is no one else here but your favourite people. Well, maybe Nico has dropped to the bottom of the list now that your energy has been worn down while his does not seem to waver. 
“I give up,” you pant as he continues to tumble down the shoreline, changing his tactics and swerving into the water, comfortable in his sea. The same sea he looks at each morning from your bedroom window. The one he learnt to swim in. (That and a variety of hotel pools.) “You win, you win!” 
The small figure, around twenty metres away, comes to an abrupt halt, wobbling on little legs for a moment. Then he begins to run again, but this time towards the towels and constructed shade you had set up earlier. Unwillingly, you race him back to base camp. 
“He ganado,” he declares as he taps Alexia’s shining back as though she is the signpost signifying the finish line. Your hand caresses the divots of muscle soon after, brushing sand across smooth, tanned skin. Nico peers at you strangely, but understands, thanks to Tia Alba, that the beach outfits are special to his mothers. 
“Mi ganador,” comes a tired murmur of praise. 
“Did you see, Mami? I was so far ahead.” She nods, craning her neck upwards to talk to him. You gladly sprawl out on the vacant towel, passing on the baton to your wife, fortunate that Elena has been asleep in her buggy for the past twenty minutes. “Can I play with Lela now? Is nap time over?” 
“No, sweetheart, naptime has just begun.” He looks up at you with pleading, bored eyes. The one unfortunate consequence of going to a private beach is that, unless you bring along your babysitter, there is no one else for Nico to play with. Alexia and you are both exhausted, and today is supposed to be about relaxation. Three-year-olds don’t understand that concept. “If you don’t want to sleep, how about burying Mami?” 
“In the sand?” 
“Sí, in the sand.” 
He leans close to your ear. “Mami says I’m not allowed to do that,” he whispers, though he has not quite mastered the volume of such a tone yet. Alexia pretends not to be listening, but you can feel her foot prodding your shin in protest. 
“Rules are sometimes made to be broken,” you tell him. “And if you do bury her, the only way to make her happy again is to get ice-cream. Which means you can also get ice-cream.” 
“You are so annoying,” grumbles Alexia. 
“This morning, I believe the word you used was ‘sexy’,” you retort. With the Euros on the horizon, it seems that the two of you are using up what little time you have to spend together. Though Alexia sometimes feels like there are hands wrapped around her neck after she failed to win the Champions League once more, she is more than happy to take advantage of the time off before she tries to make amends internationally. 
“Mm. You are magically both.” 
You tug your sunglasses – Prada, brand-new from a modelling campaign – down slightly, so that they sit lower on your nose. The sun is warm and doing its best to wear Nico down as he finds his discarded spade and begins to dig, and Elena is still fast asleep.
A mischievous grin forms on your lips, one that Alexia knows well. Topless, she flips over onto her back, excusing herself with a muttered comment about an ‘even tan’, and that is invitation enough for you to cup her cheek, your touch as fiery as the surface of the sun that blankets the beach. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you lower yourself down to her level. 
“The phrase is ‘annoyingly sexy’ in English, darling,” you murmur, your eyes locked onto hers. Even now, after six years, the proximity ignites desire over every inch of your skin, and you cannot wait to kiss. Alexia’s initial grumble turns into a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something more. Impatiently, you kiss her, aware that the moment will soon be ruined by a spray of sand as Nico pursues his mission. 
She is just as eager to kiss you back, craving the way you seem to hold the solution to every problem. Part of Alexia’s mind has not yet been able to comprehend the way in which you love her. It is hidden by the other, much larger compartment: the one that reminds her every day that she should never, ever tell you, because it would break your heart. To you, Alexia is making up for lost time. To her, she is secretly begging for forgiveness that you don’t even know she is due. 
She knows the minute your phone rings that everything is about to go wrong. No one is supposed to call you today; you have been emphatic about it. You blindly reach for the ringing device, ready to lob it into the ocean, but Alexia grabs your wrist. “It must be something important,” she says, and it feels like she is telling you she understands; you are busy, and she understands. 
“I’ll be quick, I promise.” With a quick jog up the steps and onto the concrete of the promenade, you perch on the stone wall separating the beach from the carpark, bare feet swinging over the edge. The rough surface of the wall presses uncomfortably into the exposed flesh of your bum, but you remind yourself that you will soon be lying back down on the beach towels. “Hi? I thought we agreed that pretty much everything could wait until tomorrow. I don’t care about any photos taken of me, and you know that my automatic position is simply to ensure that the children’s faces are blurred out before they get spread around.” 
“Y/n!” Your publicist sounds nervous. It’s a stressful job, you guess. Between organising interviews and brand deals and the like, she has to stamp down on unwanted rumours and be on the look-out for any perceived cracks in your very public person. Naturally, you are not perfect. 
“Yeah, I’m here. Hi.” 
“I’m afraid that it’s not a picture of you this time.” Alexia is now famous in her own right, as she always should have been. With a Ballon d’Or under her belt, you have been promoted to a ‘celebrity couple’.
“She has her own team, you know.” 
“I’m sure she will be firing them soon.” The joke fails to land, instead crashing and burning and… You freeze. 
“Why?”
“I am sure that you are aware we have feelers out for anything that could potentially harm your reputation.” You nod foolishly, caught up in the undisclosed severity of the phone call, forgetting that she cannot see you. “An hour ago, we were contacted by a photographer; one of the usual ones we get in when you’re in need of a bit of a press-boost. He’s based in Barcelona, has lots of friends in the area and such. I have the terrible job of telling you.”
Your heart quickens as the confession hangs in the air, leaving a heavy silence on the other end of the line. The anticipation builds, and you can almost feel the impending storm swirling just off the coast, waves beginning to thrash against rocks, nature beginning to tear the world down. 
“He claims to have some photos, ones that could potentially damage your image,” she says, tone measured and professional. “I haven’t seen them yet, but he described them as… intimate, to say the least.” 
“Of Alexia?” you question carefully, forcing the words onto your tongue. “Intimate? What do you mean?”
“Well, they are of her and someone else. Someone who isn’t you.” 
“Who?” Dread sets in, and the wall is suddenly not the most uncomfortable thing about your position. You feel too exposed, unsafe in what you are wearing. Taken advantage of, perhaps. 
Cheated. 
“I have not seen the photos yet, babe. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He would have attached them in his email. Paparazzos don’t have time to harass you digitally as well as in real-life. She must have avoided opening them. Or. Or she is lying.
“I need to see those pictures,” you assert, your need for clarity driving the sentence forwards. 
“Are you sure?” You nod again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, knowing that she cannot see you but feeling helpless to do anything else. She takes your silence as confirmation. There is a brief click of a mouse, and the animated swoosh of an email. “They should come through in a moment.” 
“Thank you.” 
“Are you… alright?” 
She quickly takes the hint from the lack of response and hangs up. 
You rest your phone on your thigh as your arms grip onto the ledge of the wall, pulling yourself backwards so that you do not fling yourself off it. You shake as you reach safety, and your fingers feel numb as they tap the screen, accessing your emails robotically until a pinwheel is all that separates you from the photos. 
Intimate, huh. 
They are practically snogging. 
There are eleven images, and each one delivers a blow more painful than the last. 
The beach feels confined, like an elaborate cage that you cannot escape. The shoreline creeps towards you, and you seem to be pressed against the hot metal of the car in the carpark. You struggle to recognise the scenes captured as ones where you were present, and the unfortunate date in the bottom right-hand corner evidences the photos as a time when you were not in Barcelona at all: 2021. 
The realisation hits hard and you find that everything you have ever believed to be true has simply been a cruel joke that you were excluded from.
What you have been sent is more than just proof; it is a betrayal etched in pixels, an undeniable record of a moment that shatters the foundation of your relationship. Your heart races as your scroll through the images, cruelly reminded of a reality you desperately wish were not true. One you had no idea existed. One that had been kept secret from you. 
The lump in your throat grows, and your eyes blur with unshed tears. You are overwhelmed by sharp pain coursing through your veins, and it is as if you have been injected with a poison that burns through your cell tissue, disintegrating every block of your body. It scorches the things you know to be true. 
Love goes up in flames before your eyes. 
And then a voice that you really do not want to hear speaks, and, just like that, the ashes of what has disappeared are suddenly ablaze once more. 
“Nico y yo vamos a tomar helado. ��Quieres algo?” Sandals, sunglasses, a loose linen shirt. Nico holds her hand, proud of himself. You cannot bear to look at either of them, so you stare at the towels a few metres beneath you. 
“Where is Lena?” 
“Dormida, aún.” 
Shaking, you stand up, enjoying the sharp rocks that pierce into your skin, reminding you that you are yet to die. “Take Nico. I’ll go back down and sit with her.” 
“Vale. Te quiero.” 
You don’t reply. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. 
Every step feels as though the world is cracking open and you are going to fall to your death, yet, in the midst of the impending doom, you feel as calm as can be. Numb, perhaps. 
Elena stirs as you adjust the parasol providing her the necessary shade. A hand reaches out, prepared to grab onto you, searching for your body like you are her lifeline. You are her lifeline; you are her mother. And so is Alexia. 
A tear rolls down your cheek as you let her pull your fingers to her mouth, nails brushing her lips as she whines with the headache of waking up from a nap. “What are we going to do?” 
The car journey home is silent on your part. You stew in your nothingness, unwilling to engage in the light conversation Alexia creates to keep Nico awake before his sleep schedule is ruined. Barcelona flashes past you, and the city that you once admired feels like the scene of a crime. Looking out the window is almost as sickening as if your eyes were to land on the woman beside you. Almost. 
You withhold your grief for the evening, going through the motions of nightly chores; putting the kids to bed, finishing the remainder of your packing, drying the dishes without throwing them at the blonde hair that sails past as she sorts her own suitcases out. A few texts are exchanged between you and your publicist, in which you graciously decide that those pictures will not come from you. Though if her team fails to catch them before they reach Twitter, that is not your problem.
Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the comforting blanket of darkness, you clear your throat. 
It has been six hours since you found out.
Every second that has passed has done so with excruciating pain, yet you cannot determine whether it has sunk in at all yet. You wonder if, given the chance, you would crumple into yourself and weep as though she has died. 
When you look at Alexia, readying herself for bed, you decide that the whole situation is laughable. 
You are so stupid. You thought she loved you more than that, and you were embarrassingly incorrect. 
“I want you to leave now,” you say firmly, only the bed between you. Alexia pauses, pyjama shorts halfway up her muscular legs as she peers at you curiously. Her confusion is infuriating. “I want you to… go to your mother’s or something. You’re not sleeping here.” 
“Why? What have I done?” 
She speaks as though this is a normal argument, or as though you are hormonal and unreasonable. You clench your fists and remind yourself not to wake the children up. “I am surprised you didn’t follow her to Mexico.”
It is then that Alexia Putellas realises three things. The first: she hasn’t spoken about Jenni since she left for Pachuca, and she barely pays attention when Nico persuades her to find the stream for the striker’s matches. The second: it has been six months since Jenni called whatever they were doing quits. And the third… the third is how well and truly fucked she is. 
She should have confessed her crime the minute she first slept with her; the night after they were knocked out of the World Cup. Elena wasn’t even a concept, then. You took her back though you were unaware you had ever lost her. 
Last year, when it was Alexia all alone, she should have confessed her second betrayal. A longer, more hurtful betrayal. Something fuelled by meaningfulness, not passion and heightened adrenaline. If she were in your position, the physicality would not be what obliterated her heart; the emotion behind the entire affair would. 
She wipes her eyes, aware that she has started to cry. It is all the confirmation you need. “I’m so sorry,” is the only thing she can think to say, but ‘sorry’ does not amount to the pain she knows she has caused. ‘Sorry’ won’t heal a wound that has cut deep, cut through years of love and happiness and supposed loyalty. ‘Sorry’ does not change the fact that Alexia lent herself to Jenni, let Jenni take her in any capacity she wished, and then returned to you as though it had never even happened. 
In all honesty, part of Alexia is very curious about how you have found her out. Mapi would not risk being caught up in such a storm, and Jenni would gain only suffering from telling you because she knows that Alexia would never choose her. Though she has spent night after night with her finger hovering over her sister’s contact, she resolved never to tell Alba either, for fear that her sister would see her for the monster she is and side with you. Selfishly, Alexia does not want anyone to side with you, but even she finds it easy to hate herself. 
“Is that all you can offer me?” you croak, and it is clear to Alexia that you are this calm because you are putting your children before yourself. They do not need to hear their parents’ marriage implode; not tonight, not ever. She cannot bear to meet your eyes as you pierce through her bowed head. “Alexia.” She pulls her shorts up fully, forehead parallel to the floor. “Alexia!” you snap. 
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. 
Alexia Putellas is regarded by most as intimidating, yet, here, she is anything but. She is meek. Pathetic. 
She is a woman who continued to make a stupid mistake although she was given so many opportunities to fix it. 
And, when Alexia finally grows the balls to look into your piercing eyes, she sees, reflected in your hardened, dark pupils, weakness and idiocy, rimmed with the most stinging of betrayals. It kills her to see you fight your own tears, and it is worse when you have to break eye contact because you are afraid you will vomit if it goes on any longer. 
“You are packed, so you can leave tonight. Sort yourself out while I get the children up.” 
Everything is ruined because of her. 
It is the last night Alexia lives under the same roof as you. It is a horrible way to end a golden age, and the worst possible confirmation of the fleetingness of all things that exist. You hate the world, you hate Jennifer Hermoso, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to hate your wife. 
Alexia says goodbye to a sleepy Nico and a clingy Elena. Your daughter refuses to let her mother go the minute she is passed to her, and all four of you try your best not to cry, whether it be from confusion, regret, or heartbreak. 
Nico, inquisitive as one is at his age, does not let the door open without questions. ‘Why now?’ is what causes Alexia to freeze, searching on your face for permission to have one more second with him. You cup the back of Elena’s head, fingers splaying out against her soft hair, soothing her back to sleep. And you nod. 
She crouches to his level, dwarfed by her suitcases. In her pocket, her phone buzzes; her taxi has arrived. “¿Te acuerdas cuando te hablé sobre la responsabilidad? Soy la capitana, cariño, y tengo que cuidar a mi equipo, así que ‘ahora’ es lo mejor para ellas.” You are grateful for the lie. 
“¿Ahora yo mando? ¿Como me dijiste?” 
“Sí. Tienes que cuidar a Mama y Lela, y protegerlas como yo os protejo a vosotros. Y nos veremos prontito, petit. Te lo prometo.”
He is fighting his tears, stiff like a toy soldier marching off to an imaginary battle. You half expect Nico to salute with his chubby, unpractised fingers, but he simply stands there, between Alexia and you. Though Elena is safe in your arms, Nico is caught in the crossfire, two feet innocently leading him into no man’s land. 
You take a deep breath as Alexia closes the door behind her. She has been driven out – her own doing – and she knows, because she knows you, that there will be no space in your life for her until your gaping wound dulls in pain. The journey to her mother’s house is the second time she ever considers killing herself, with the first being the night her father died. 
But this is how it goes. 
You fly to England the next day, holding it together until Elena and Nico are safely in the hands of Anya, but you do not give her a reason for her much-needed babysitting abilities.
It is a small secret. You keep it because on top of being in agony, you are so fucking embarrassed. You. You got cheated on. You weren’t enough for her. (And Jenni was?) It’s really easy to pretend you’re stressed for Alexia, knowing she is heading into a tournament that Spain could win but won’t. 
The first official step you take – the very first – is with a nanny. You meet her the day after landing at London Stansted, and she seems to be the perfect choice for the interim period of your life that you have unexpectedly entered; she speaks Spanish, she is discreet, and she reassures you that she is there to enhance family life, not destroy it. And possibly another alluring factor: she is quick to sign an NDA and promise that no photos of your children will make it into any dogshit magazine. 
Her first interaction with your children is two hours before your lunch with your publicist, manager, producer, and lawyer. They have agreed to congregate – they have seen the pictures (an exclusive peek, as the deliciously world-destroying surprise photoshoot has not yet been picked up by anyone with ganas to publish it). Each one has a purpose, each one wants to profit off your heartbreak, and, though they’d never admit it for fear of breaking their hard exteriors, each invitee would also like to see if you’re okay. 
“Do you… like her?” you sheepishly ask your son while Isabela, the nanny, supervises Elena’s lunch. You’re not entirely sure your daughter understands that the hummus is supposed to go into her mouth, not redecorate the highchair table from white to beige, but Isabela does her best to instruct her, the familiar tinkle of Alexia’s language making your daughter’s eyes light up.  
He looks a little puzzled. “Is she a babysitter?” 
“Sort of.” You sigh, “it’s just that I have a lot to do, and Mami is playing football now. Isabela is going to help us, but I want to make sure that you want that.” 
Nico shrugs. “Don’t care.” 
“And she’s going to speak in Spanish, just like Mami does.” In anticipation of a worse reaction, you wince at the slight insinuation that you’re replacing Alexia. He doesn’t pick up on it. 
“She sounds funny.” 
“That’s because she’s from Colombia,” you answer him, and he nods, storing that information for later. Probably for when Alexia calls to speak to him (a moment you are dreading). 
“Is Colombia near Mexico?” He perks up; you know what’s coming next. “Does Isabela know Jenni?” 
You have to remind yourself that Nico has not done anything wrong. The fault of the mother is not the son’s, and, briefly, you pray he has inherited your fidelity for the sake of his future partners. 
You pretend that the name that just fell from his lips does not fill you with the overwhelming urge to strangle someone. And, calmly, you reply, “probably not, but you can always ask her.” 
Alexia does not know what to do. 
She wishes, she really does, that someone would pass her a clock… and she knows she has trained and worked hard enough to wrestle the hands of time back a year and change her decisions in every situation. Alas, that is impossible. 
She tells Mapi, as the team touches down in England, what has happened. The defender is unimpressed – angry, even, at her best friend – but nothing warrants what is to come. 
The morning feels eerily normal. Breakfast is difficult, especially when all Alexia can think while she eats is that every morsel in her mouth fuels the monster she has become. Every bite, every sip of coffee, leads her to live another day. She is not particularly certain that she deserves that. 
Mapi does not look at her, swerves her request to be partners when training begins. Head down, eyes slowly filling with tears, Alexia takes the punishment. She says nothing when Pina pinches her side, “Patri’s being annoying”, and drags her into the drill. 
She runs, she passes the ball, Pina turns and shoots it into the mini-net. 
Pina runs, she passes the ball, Alexia turns. 
Something goes wrong. 
Maybe it is that the pitch is uneven, cut up from whoever had trained before. Maybe it’s the pass, slightly off-target. Maybe she is at that point in her menstrual cycle where the risk of injury is higher – that’s being looked into, isn’t it? 
Maybe it’s that her body can no longer stay so robust when everything else in her life is hurtling towards the ground in the most epic downhill slope possible. 
Maybe. 
The pop is unmistakable, and the pain searing. She can’t help the scream she lets out, barely registering whoever has rushed to her side while she presses her face into the dirt, tears watering the grass.
“I’ve done my ACL,” Alexia gasps, lifting her head up slightly. She catches sight of the blue sky, the green grass. The bright sun shining down on her, hot against her neck but nothing in comparison to the agony in her knee. 
She blinks, thinking her eyes are blurring from her tears. 
A second later, she is unconscious. 
When Alexia wakes up, she is glad to have passed out. She has no memory of being hauled off the pitch or brought into the medical room. Her head aches and her knee throbs, but she knows that there is someone beside her so she does her best to hold in the immediate wave of sobs that seem to take over her. 
A calloused hand reaches for hers, unclenching her fist, urging her to squeeze the pain away, pass off some of it to her companion. They have given her pain medication. She can tell because the white walls dance around her and the only word she can manage to get out is your name. 
She whispers it over and over again. 
“I know,” comes a soothing voice, poorly concealing the worry that cracks the tone. “Shh, I know, I know. You’re okay, Ale. She’s… she’s on her way.” 
The call is unexpected. 
Mapi never has much reason to talk to you on your own, unless you share a concern for your wife’s wellbeing. You suppose that’s a bit of a redundant commonality now. Your lawyers have drawn up a custody agreement and, upon meek request, divorce papers: a gift for after the Euros. 
“Dime, Mapi. Estoy trabajando,” you say curtly, signalling from inside the booth that the phone call is nothing to worry about and you can resume the recording session in a moment. 
Mapi’s news makes you even more resentful than you were already feeling, because you can’t help but sprint to your car the minute the address is given. 
Pain becomes part of everyday life.
Crutches, too. 
Alba and Eli already existed as frequent visitors, but the former increases her appearances so that she has moved in the day before Alexia’s surgery. 
It spills out, the night of the surgery, that Alexia and you are no longer together. That you left her, with good reason. It’s a surprise, considering you had stayed by her side during the twelve hours in England between the medical room, the hospital, and the airport. 
When Alexia reluctantly tells Alba why, Alba decides that you are a saint and her sister, a sinner. She holds her hands behind her back to keep herself from slapping Alexia across the face, but little does she know, Alexia longs for the anger, wishing she wasn’t being pitied for her injury. She wishes there was no injury to be pitied for, but, then again, she tells herself that she deserves it and accepts the agony as one would hold a blade to their wrists and slit them. 
This behaviour, this quiet ideology that she has been punished for her mistake, is what leads Alba to ensure the keys to the balcony are hidden and the kitchen knives are tucked away in a cupboard, out of sight. Or perhaps it is what she hears her sister telling herself in the mirror. Worthless. Degenerate. Evil, cruel, horrible. Selfish! 
She has two children with you, for God’s sake!
“I have ruined my own life.” Her words burn, the intensity of her anger enough to make Alba flinch, hands gripping the steering wheel harder, forcing her way forwards. The hospital comes into view and Alexia cries out in anguish. “I have ruined it, Alba! I have ruined everything!”
Alexia, The Ruiner. 
She bears the new name with something more than disappointment. She lets the nurses examine her knee, compliment Alba for her care-taking, and reassure her about the surgery. She lets them talk her through possible complications, secretly hoping one will occur and she will wither away; no longer a footballer, no longer a mother, no longer your wife. Just Alexia, The Ruiner. 
Alba and her argue, Alexia lying back in the cot, hospital gown patterned against clinically white sheets, light fabric against her paling skin. “You wanting to die is not you wanting to kill yourself. It’s your regret, and it’s your cowardice at not being able to face the consequences of your actions.” Alexia had been hot-headed enough to voice how she did not want to make it through the surgery. She is in excruciating pain, and is convinced they need to investigate it. “It’s your knee, not your heart. Your heart hurts because you cheated on her and she rightfully left you! Don’t you ever say something so fucking stupid again.” 
“Alba!” Eli’s entrance is neither good nor bad. “Alba, leave her.” Alexia’s tears run down the sides of her face, hitting the sheets like little bullets. The soft caress of her mother’s hand across her cheek is no comfort, and Alexia only sobs harder. “You are going to be fine, mi cielo. The surgery is going to go well and you will come back even stronger.” 
Alexia knows that, once you have torn your ACL, you are more likely to tear it again, so she mentally disputes her mother’s claim. She has no energy to voice the thought, however. 
“Mamá, she’s convinced she’s going to have a heart attack.” Alba points to her sister’s chest, as if to disagree by showing their mother that nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. They begin to argue, and Alexia watches her family implode, deeming herself once more, Alexia, The Ruiner. 
It’s not a heart attack, it turns out. She falls victim to a severe panic attack just as they begin to wheel her away. They increase her dosage of anaesthetic. 
Unfortunately, the next morning Alexia comes to after a successful surgery and remembers nothing. That is until she looks to her bedside and finds only her mother there (Alba having gone to the big, empty apartment to adjust it to her sister’s newly-disabled lifestyle). 
She relives the kisses Jenni used to press to her neck, the marks sucked into her skin though Jenni knew she was not hers to brand. She relives your expression when you told her you knew, the grimace you had worn, the way your eyes flicked to the ensuite as though you were going to throw up at any point. 
She hears her knee pop again, sees the trophy slip from her grasp, sees it float into the realm of possibility along with the Champions League cup. 
“You’re awake,” Eli says with surprise, offering a warm but sympathetic smile. She reaches out to touch Alexia, but Alexia jerks her body backwards, instantly regretting it when her knee begins to ache unbearably. “They said you’ll be in a lot of pain at first, but it will subside and, soon, you can start recovery. Your physiotherapist is going to visit in an hour or so, and I cannot count how many well-wishes you have received.” Weirdly, Eli thinks to herself, Jenni has said nothing. 
Alexia shakes her head, trying to dispel the fog in her mind. “Do the… Do the children know I am hurt?” 
“I believe so,” Eli replies with a nod. “Y/n broke the news to them, but we haven’t heard from her since you went into the operating theatre. I have no idea whether she’s going to come here. I assume she will.” 
“She won’t,” mutters Alexia, refusing to look at her mother.
“Oh, don’t be so gloomy. She’s your wife, of course she is going to come.” A dark storm brews in the cagey hospital room, but Eli remains an oblivious ray of sunshine. “I know you don’t want Nico and Lela to see you like this, but they miss you. They must have been so excited for the Euros!” 
All of it is the wrong thing to say. If Eli had known, she would have approached the uncertainty differently. 
If Alexia were not so angry at herself, so guilty, so destructive, she would have calmly explained that your absence is both warranted and understandable. 
Instead. 
Well, instead, this comes out of her: “She is not going to come because I had a fucking affair and she has left me and taken the children to fucking England where they are probably never going to be allowed to see me ever, and I will live out the rest of my days as a fucking coach because I am useless and I am never going to play football again!” 
Eli sits back in her chair, shocked. 
“What have you done?” 
Neither knows if it is a question or a damnation, but Alexia chooses to answer her mother regardless; “I have ruined everything, and now I am paying the price for it.” 
Your friends gloat a little bit, calling it Karma. Anya and Gio are first in disbelief, but they soon progress onto the stage of hatred – something you have not yet been able to access. 
For now, life feels as though it is on auto-pilot. Your children are happy and safe, your country is going to do well in the Euros, and time does not stop ticking no matter how hard you wish it would. 
Alexia’s surgery is successful. You see the update on Twitter, not wanting to contact Alba or Eli in case Alexia thinks you have forgiven her. You haven’t. Perhaps you never will. 
“There are two ways you can go about this,” Gio says with a smirk, holding out a thong to you as you stand in your bedroom in just a towel. “You’re hot and rich and famous… and now single, too.” You are not completely sure of that, but you nod, following along. You slip into the lace and then point to the England shirt folded on top of your pillow. It gets thrown at your face. “You can wallow in it and weep like a damsel in distress, giving her the satisfaction of breaking your heart…” 
“I don’t think she wanted to–” 
“She cheated on you,” Gio cuts you off bluntly. After a moment, your shoulders drop and you resign to hearing her plan. “As said earlier, hot, rich, famous… Babe, just get with someone else. Get with everyone else! Your babies are looked after 24/7 and this is London, my dear. The pond is really an ocean and you are a catch. As your bestest friend, I know what’s best for you. You’ve got an album coming out in September, a tour to hop on in November, and about three thousand dildos you can hop on after that!” 
You cringe. “Don’t be crass.” 
“Don’t be a prude.” She gestures to herself. “Look at me; Mia’s fine and healthy, doesn’t legally have to see her arsehole of a father, and I get a good shag every fortnight.” 
“No, I’ve drawn up the custody agreement already. I’ll go back to Barcelona when the school year starts, and we can swap every two weekends. But I’m keeping our home – she can find somewhere else to live, seeing as all of this is her fault.” 
“And the tour?” Gio asks as you pull on your England jersey and a pair of shorts. Good weather has blessed the start of the tournament, and you have been invited to the first match at Old Trafford by Manchester United themselves. Gio and Anya are coming, and you think they have put you in with a few of their players and executives. Your father has his own ticket, planning to meet you there and convince you to pay your grandmother a visit (she doesn’t like that you are lesbian and therefore you don’t like her). 
“I don’t know,” you sigh, “because I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to make the children’s lives even more unstable. Maybe it’s best to give them a few months to adjust to the idea of us not being together.” 
Gio hums in agreement, knowing she had it easy with her own co-parenting adjustment because her daughter was a baby with no recollection of her parents being a couple, much less in-love. “You’re a good mum.” She kisses your cheek and wraps you in a very needed hug. “You’ll get through this because you are stronger than a pathetic affair.”
You swear. 
“What time’s our train leaving?!” 
The match is a good one, and the atmosphere is enough to make you feel the slightest bit alive. Spain plays in two days, and though you have good reason to believe Alexia is going to be there, you are booking a family trip to Legoland to delay the first hand-off of many. 
England win with one goal to nil, courtesy of Beth Mead’s chip. You are on your feet, cheering the entire match. One of the United executives tells you that he loves your passion and asks you if you’d take his ticket to the post-match drinks as he wants to head home for a nap. You laugh, the old Mancunian reminding you of your father, and accept. It’s just the one ticket, so you bid Gio and Anya goodbye, book a hotel for the night (comfortable with the idea that Isabela has safe hands to care for your children), and give your father a valid reason to pass up on the visit to Didsbury. 
The only person at this event that you really know is Alessia Russo, after exchanging a few DMs last Christmas to wrangle a signed Manchester United jersey for Nico’s Christmas present (a gift Alexia had refused to say was from her as well). 
“No kids today?” she asks with a grin, pulling you into a friendly hug. 
“Didn’t manage to get them tickets,” you reply. “But now I get to drink, and you get to watch me and wish you weren’t on a nutrition plan.” 
She shakes her head. “We’ve actually been instructed to celebrate the wins. Sarina Wiegman says it’s a key part of tournament success.” You look around the room, noticing every Lioness here, hair still wet from the showers and donning team-issued tracksuits, has a can of beer in their hands. Jorge Vilda could never. “Glad to see you haven’t yet become a Spain and Barcelona fan. Feeling patriotic enough to be introduced to our captain?” 
Leah Williamson bears the same concentrated eyes gifted to Alexia; determination, victory, leadership. 
You’re unsure if you have ever formally met her, perhaps at the Brits once. “I go with Alex? Alex Scott,” she says, as though she is trying to impress you. She takes the briefest of looks down to your hands that hang near your waist with no glass to hold (the bar has cut you off for half an hour). 
You wear one ring. It is not the one with which Alexia promised you her total devotion, but it is from her all the same. An old gift – maybe from your first anniversary? 
Leah doesn’t ask whether you are still married. 
“I heard your son loves football?” He is obsessed with his mother, he wishes to follow her in every single thing she does. “You should bring him to our next match. I’ll get him one of those passes, and– Hey, you know what? I bet there’s a way I can get him a place as a mascot for one of the matches! Both our next ones are down south.” 
You smile. “Really?” 
“Yeah, course. He might be a bit young but I’m always glad to help out our little fans, and it might throw Spain off their game.” She winks, offering no further explanation, and is suddenly called away before you can request more information. 
You have to admit, the idea of Nico walking (toddling) out with England makes you feel both proud and satisfied. It will be a tiny jab towards Alexia, which, honestly, is a privilege considering how she has stabbed you in the back repeatedly with a machete. 
When your son’s first time on a proper football pitch is with Alessia Russo, holding her hand with wide eyes and a wider smile, you are sure Alexia has smashed the screen of whatever TV she has been studying her opponents with. 
Spain playing England in the quarter-final feels intensely political within your family. 
Alexia is in Brighton for the first time in her life, and she hates more than anything that she is not preparing herself for a match. She won’t be going through her pre-game rituals for another seven months, at least. 
You tell Isabela to take the children to Alexia’s hotel, unable to put yourself in front of the wheel. Your hands have not stopped shaking since your manager texted you a screenshot of their conversation (seeing as you refuse to talk to her, not for pettiness but for fear of breaking yourself in two), and Isabela poured you a glass of wine before she left to calm your nerves. 
You feel sick, and the toilet water turns red as your body rejects the rioja. Once you have wiped your mouth, you laugh at the notion that even Spanish wine is unwelcome inside of you. 
“Who are you?” Alexia demands as the revolving doors of the lobby reveal her two babies with a stranger. She is quick to remove Elena from the arms of this new woman, although she is disgruntled by how comfortable her daughter seems. One of her crutches falls to the ground, Alexia not having been able to master childcare and post-surgery impairments because she has not seen the children she is supposed to care for, but she does not find it in herself to care.
“Hola, Sra. Putellas. Encantada.” Isabela holds out her hand but Alexia does not shake it, jaw clenched at the way you have gotten a Spanish-speaking nanny as though to completely erase her babies’ Catalan accents and memory of their other mother! “Me contrataron para ayudar a Y/n con los niños. Me dijeron que usted se encargaría de ellos hoy.”
“Sí, lo estoy haciendo, porque son MIS hijos.” She looks at Nico, who has been hiding shyly behind his nanny’s leg, afraid of his mother’s fierceness. Alexia softens, hoping to welcome him into her embrace, but her stupid knee won’t bend and she can’t get onto his level. Isabela reaches out to help her, or to at least steady her so that she doesn’t drop the squirming toddler she is holding, but the help is unwanted and, quite frankly, embarrassing. 
Alexia’s frustration brings tears to her eyes. 
She quickly blinks them back. 
“¿Le gustaría que la ayudara, Sra. Putellas? Me han pagado por trabajar hoy, así que no es un proble–” 
“¡No!” Alexia snaps. Silently, she curses how condescending and petty you have become. Paying the nanny in advance to taunt her for her injuries! “No. Estaré bien. Soy su madre.”
“Por supuesto, pero también está herida.” Isabela looks around the lobby for a moment. “¿Está sola?” 
Alexia knows that Mapi’s parents are going to be arriving any minute now, kindly offering to help out with Nico and Elena. “Oh, we do not mind! We’d love for María to have children of her own,” they had said. 
“Soy perfectamente capaz de manejarlo–” 
“Isabela,” Isabela supplies. 
“Isabela,” Alexia repeats. “Ahora, si ha terminado, vaya a disfrutar su día libre.” 
She waits on the sofa just left of the door for Mapi’s parents, silently begging them to arrive as soon as possible. Nico is bored and would like to run around, upset that Alexia denies him his fun whenever he whines to play. Elena is tired, grumpily napping in Alexia’s lap, but that means she can’t position her knee the way the surgeons had asked her to. Isabela hadn’t meant to, but she had dumped two rucksacks of toys, snacks, and clothes onto Alexia, who still hasn’t been able to retrieve her crutch from the floor. 
Close to tears and very overwhelmed, the arrival of the couple comes as a great relief. “Oh, you poor thing,” coos Mapi’s mother, a caring woman from whom her friend inherited the same quality. She kisses Alexia’s forehead and instantly takes the weight from her lap, hushing the soft whimpers Elena lets out. “Let us look after the babies. You make sure you have the tickets sorted. Have you taken your pain medication? Oh, let me take care of it for you.” 
The fuss is something she has had to get used to, but she is thankful for the assistance. They wrestle Nico into his red Spain jersey, something he was not delivered in, and they ensure all three of their wards are comfortable before the stadium appears in the windshield of the taxi. 
Alexia begins to get nervous. 
Spain has more talent than England – always has – but they don’t have the same funding nor support. Their manager is a dickhead and the federation corrupt, and Alexia’s teammates suffer daily in a way no Lioness would be able to comprehend. She fears for their reputation, for their progression. 
Her nerves increase when she sees you in the stands, in your own box of course. It seems that you see her too, but your only acknowledgement of her presence is the wave you give to your children. Alexia has to remind them sharply in Catalan that they are Spanish. 
Afterwards, when Spain lost and Alexia is blaming herself for the defeat, you walk through the tunnel, following Leah’s directions that she had sent over text. You’d added her to your contacts yesterday, growing tired of Instagram DMs.
The odd thing about this area is that to your left, nothing is heard and the air hangs its head in shame, but to your right, a nation celebrates its victory. Sadly, you know you have to fetch your children from the Spain changing room before you say goodbye to the English heroines. 
You knock on the door, politely. You have never been more glad that a player has not been selected for a squad. Jenni has missed the Euros due to injury, much like her partner-in-crime. 
A solemn Ona Batlle, a Manchester United player who serves as a bridge between worlds in your household, opens the door, making no attempt to force a smile when she sees that it is you. You are (were) their captain’s wife; you are like family. 
“Hi,” you breathe, not wanting to be the one to pierce through the silence. 
Ona stands to one side and you pass. 
Most of the girls are tearful, sniffling into their jerseys, heads in their hands, but no one is as distraught as Mapi. Her sobs take the fun out of winning, her devastation crushing and contagious and impossibly hard to ignore. She buries her face into Alexia’s shoulder, but it does nothing to muffle her cries. 
You gulp, catching hazel eyes, understanding the plea to not make this feel worse. 
You are heartbroken, and so is Mapi. For different reasons, yes, but both organs are shattered in the same way. 
Alexia mutters something very quietly, secretly wishing Mapi does not let her go because this is the first time the defender has actually spoken to her since Alexia did what she did, but the blonde hair stops itching her face soon enough. 
Rooted to the spot, you search the room for two smaller Spaniards, finding them both taking after Alexia, comforting the players. 
“Nico, Lela, come on,” you croak, finding tears in your own eyes. “Say bye-bye to Mami.” 
Their hugs and kisses are missed the moment Alexia leaves the country, and the absence of them makes Alexia crumble completely when she finds the letter from your lawyer that Alba has been hiding from her. 
September rolls around with school, the start of your custody agreement, and the release of your new album. 
Judgement Day. 
For many, it confirms the split from your wife. Those pictures were never picked up by a magazine, so you have had them deleted with a baseless threat to sue for defamation.
Alexia no longer has to communicate with you through one of your employees, but any texts exchanged are few and far between. She tells you that she is renting a flat near the training centre. It has three bedrooms, but Nico and Elena share one because her mother is living with her while she recovers from her ACL. She also partially tore her meniscus, though she had hesitated to pass that news on, but everything seems to be in order and she is ahead of schedule.
You reluctantly text her whenever you leave the country, whether that is because you are flying to London for work (and to visit Leah, who you are now good friends with) or because a club opening has called and you have answered. It’s not as messy as the media makes it seem, but you agree with the articles that say you seem to drink as though it is what keeps you alive. The word ‘addict’ gets thrown around, but you are sitting in an armchair in front of your therapist before that escalates, if not for yourself then for the sake of your children. 
They themselves do not understand. Nico frequently asks when Alexia will come home, though he has usually just visited her when this question pops out, and Elena throws big tantrums during the swaps. Those are done at a neutral location: the park near you. You hope the playground takes the edge off the palpable tension between you and Alexia as you sit on opposite sides of the same bench, exchanging brief updates about your shared duty until whoever is a mother for the next two weekends makes up an excuse to go. 
Just before Christmas, once you have calculated that it’s technically Alexia’s turn with their children until January, you go on your biggest night-out since the days when all you were was a 2010s pop star in a girl-group. With no one to go home to and an empty house in Highgate awaiting your return, you get the closest to sleeping with someone else since before meeting Alexia. Her lips trail down your neck, the white powder on her nose rubbing onto your skin as she presses herself into you. You grope her body desperately, painfully dissatisfied by the bones and creamy skin your hands find. You are used to muscle, to strength, to power. 
Not some anorexic model who calls you a MILF and hasn’t had a sober day in years. 
In the end, you don’t end up sleeping with her, but it makes the headlines nonetheless. Your publicist lets them. “The world needs to see you move on, even if you aren’t,” she says. Your slight disagreement is not voiced, and social media explodes with further confirmation that you are single. A group of football fans are quick to attack you, calling you cruel for leaving Alexia when she is injured, but the thousand-person army doesn’t particularly bother you. You are doing your ex a favour by not opening up about the reason for the split, and you are both aware of that. 
You spend Christmas with your parents, who are not pleased to have you moping about their house. Your father tells you that success is the best revenge. You tell him that your album has topped the charts in December, winning its battle against Christmas music. 
“But that hasn’t mended a broken heart,” he is unkind enough to point out. “And neither will models, drugs, or alcohol.” 
At this point in the day, you have made it through a bottle and a half of wine and a pack of Marlboro Golds. Voice hoarse from smoking and sobbing the entirety of Christmas Eve, you tell him to “fuck off” and call a taxi for yourself. 
You don’t remember the destination you had typed in, but you end up at Leah Williamson’s house. 
Leah is home, having returned from Milton Keynes half an hour ago, and is not really surprised by the state you are in. She supposes that she has gotten to know you well enough to realise that you are far from stable. This is the first time the English captain has seen you heartbroken, but she is unsure whether it will be the last. 
Your tour commences the following month, with January being a fresh start to a new year. You tell Leah, who invites you out with her on NYE, that this year you won't be cheated on. It is not the comment that makes her laugh, but rather the way it slurs out of your mouth.
Barcelona feels suffocating when you arrive at the park to say goodbye to Nico and Elena. You’ll be in the States for the entire month and maybe some of February. Alexia is sure it will be fine, especially since the team has taken it upon themselves to look after the two children and help where they can. Additionally, Alexia is growing closer to one of her friends, Olga, who loves children and wanted to be a teacher before she decided on something much cooler. 
Alexia has the courtesy to send Mapi and Ingrid in her place, knowing that you do not want to talk to her. You haven’t yet heard her explanation, but that does not matter. Nothing excuses what she did, and nothing will. (And with Jenni, who is no longer the godmother to Elena, the title being revoked instantly.)
“Will you miss us?” Nico asks as you kiss his soft hair, hugging him tightly. “Mami said that we have to swap every three findes so why no now?” 
“Why not now?” you gently correct him. “Because I have to work. I’m going to sing in front of lots and lots of people and, maybe, write some new songs!” Your attempt to excite him crashes and burns, but you are not going to give up. “This is a secret so you can’t tell anyone, but some really, really special people want to make songs with me.” 
“Who?” he pouts. 
“Well, one of Mami’s favourites, Karol G. She is very nice, and she told me she has an idea for a collaboration.” Petty, yes, but also a career move. Nico’s innocence and lack of understanding about the meaning of separation means that he sees your plans as a very nice gift for Alexia.  “And, let me think. Ooh, Bad Bunny – you know him, don’t you? I’m sure Pina or Patri or–” 
He pulls away from your embrace, taking a step back. “Sí,” he says, sounding exactly like Alexia, “but to Mami, she no like because he says rude things.” 
“Adults are allowed to say rude things,” you reply with a cheeky smile, winking at him. “Your mami says rude things all the time, but not in front of you.” 
“Really?” 
“Yep, but you’ll have to ask her about that.” 
Alexia has hobbled through the nighttime routines, aided by Olga, who has halved the job by picking Elena and Nico up from nursery and school and watching them until Alexia’s day at the training ground had ended. Her and Olga haven’t kissed yet, but Alba has advised her sister to be quick about it if she ever intends to. Alexia is not sure she does want that, because your absence has only made how much she loves you (and how much she fucked up) even more obvious.
Their beds are on opposite sides of the room, which is technically the master bedroom – only fair, Alexia thinks, because they are having to share here but not when staying with you – and Elena is fast asleep by the time Nico is tired of the bedtime stories he has relentlessly requested. She brushes off the slight sting of his dismissal of her acting and helps him settle underneath the covers. 
As usual, she presses a kiss to both cheeks and the tip of his nose, and tells him to have nice dreams and a good rest. The weekend starts tomorrow, which means he gets to join Alexia at the training centre and sit in on the sessions. Alexia is slightly jealous because she is still stuck in the gym, but as long as he is entertained, she will get over it.
“Mami, how long is a month?” asks Nico, voice small and groggy and… is that a hint of an accent? Maybe the two and a half months of Isabela’s Spanish has affected him. She will look into it. 
He tugs on her jumper when she spaces out. “Sorry,” Alexia whispers. “A month is thirty days. Maybe you need to pay attention at school.” She pokes his cheek playfully, and he giggles. 
“I do pay attention, I do. Thirty days is long.” 
Alexia dreams of the football pitch, of the grass she has been promised she will play on before April. “It can be very long,” comes her agreement, picturing where in her recovery she will be come February. “It can also be very short.” 
“I miss Mama.” 
His statement, unbeknownst to him, is uncomfortably relatable. 
“Thirty days will be very short. You’ll see her again soon, and, you know what? She made me promise to give you goodnight kisses from her every night! She is going to send them to me from America, and I’ll pass them onto you.” 
“Really?” 
“Sí,” says Alexia with pursed lips, raising her eyebrows to invite him to doubt her. He looks up at her with adoration, as if her word is law. She can only be thankful that you are merciful enough to have not turned her own children against her. You have expressed your wish to keep them from being collateral damage, and Alexia respects you for that. 
“Mama said that she makes songs in LA with Karol G!” 
Then again, there are other ways to be petty.
Touring has always exhausted you. Eat, sleep, travel, sing, in varying orders; the schedule grows repetitive and tight after the first week.
After the first show in LA, you bring a blurry face to your hotel room. You kiss her, you can’t bear to do anything more, and you let her sleep off her drugs in your bed while you take the sofa in your suite. 
High on adrenaline half the time and utterly knocked-out when not, you zombie your way through the travelling, grouchily rehearsing new songs on the road, signing merchandise for your screaming fans. You get asked about your private life in a few interviews initially, but the journalists soon learn that the topic is to be avoided if they wish for you to talk to them at all. 
The headlines continue to tear apart images captured of you at clubs, and magazines never seem to find the pictures of you with your children when you visit them while you make your way around Europe. 
There comes a point where you look at a woman and she becomes, in the eyes of the media, your latest plaything. 
Alexia is seething by the time your two-night show in Barcelona rolls around. 
One day, when Nico and Elena understand the concepts of affairs and heartbreak, they will see the articles written about their mothers; the hate Alexia gets, the times she has been called a whore by fans of the same sport she devotes her life to, the stark inequality between her and her male counterparts. With these horrors of the world, they’ll see the pictures of you, pupils blown out, eyes red. Women clinging onto you that perhaps faintly resemble Alexia. 
Because Alexia knows you, because she loves you, she can see that what has been labelled your ‘slay’ era is really fuelled by devastation. A disaster that she caused. It riddles her with guilt, but she doesn't know how to expel that emotion from her head without reverting to the early days of her loneliness where she ate nothing and made her sister seriously worry whether she was going to find her bleeding out in the bathtub one day. And so, with a lack of command over such a strong feeling, she decides to rage. She is furious with your irresponsibility. 
“Where should we eat?” your guitarist asks with a grin as you touchdown in Barcelona. The soft murmur of Spanish and Catalan is unexpectedly comforting, the familiarity grounding. Maybe Barcelona has become your home. Maybe it never stopped being that, because home is where the heart is and, frustratingly, yours still belongs to the woman who tore it out of your chest and didn’t even have the guts to tell you about it. 
“I can’t,” you reply quickly, wiping the sweat from travel off your brow with the sleeve of your turtleneck. “I promised my son I’d tuck him in while I’m in the country, and my daughter has been drawing at nursery so I’d like to collect some of the pictures and see if I can get them blown up onto canvases.” 
Laughing, your crew make their way off the jet. “You know, most celebrities would pay thousands for abstract art but you get yours from a toddler.” 
“She’s talented.” Mapi draws with her, you’ve been told. Elena is what makes Ingrid yearn for a ring to appear in their relationship sooner rather than later. “And take the piss all you want, but if you had had to put my kids through what I have, you’d feel the same.” 
The sofa in the Putellas household (the apartment no longer inhabited by Eli, who was very glad to escape the intense atmosphere as soon as Alexia was cleared to live by herself) houses three unsettled humans of varying sizes. The biggest, Alexia, shifts on the soft, new cushions, awaiting your arrival with gulps of brewing tears and the latest set of paparazzi photos of you fresh in her mind. The boy, Nico, practically vibrates with excitement, promising himself that he will drag out this bedtime as long as possible to make up for all the others you have missed. The smallest is upset because she hasn’t fallen asleep yet, kept awake by her older brother who shakes her whenever she starts to drift off, hastily scolding her with a ‘no, Lela! Mama is coming home’. 
With no key to this flat, you are forced to be buzzed up. 
The anticipation builds. Nico and Alexia try to remember what you smell like, testing themselves to see if they can recall it scent for scent. Have you changed your shampoo? Alexia wonders, Do you still use the same moisturiser?
“Hi, my darlings!” you squeal as the door flies open and Nico comes hurtling into your crouched form, closely followed by his unsteady little sister. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” You squeeze them as though you are never going to let go, and only release them from the hug when Elena begins to whine, adrenaline rush dying and tiredness overcoming her once more. 
“Mama, home,” Nico says with an inaccurate finality. You spare Alexia a glance as he pulls you through the bare walls and grey decor until you reach a door with stickers up and down the white-washed wood. “Mami made me change, but you can read! Lela wants this one.” He rumages through the box of books near the children’s whiteboard (on it, the odd x’s and o’s of football tactics), pulling out a few to stack into his own pile before thrusting something you recognise very well. 
“Mami reads to us in English sometimes,” he says matter-of-factly, though Alexia silently curses him from where she is standing in the doorway. “Important to know.” 
You chuckle. “Mm, very important. How else would you talk to me?” Elena quietly crawls into your lap, happy to take over Nico’s bed, where you are sitting. You stroke her hair, holding her close. “Mami reads you ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’?” 
He is too young to know what scepticism looks like. 
“Es que hay ‘La Pequeña Oruga Glotona’.” 
You refuse to look at the voice which speaks, but you nod. 
“Alright, why don’t you get into bed, and then I’ll start to make my way through the mountain of books. I am absolutely all yours for tonight, my loves.” 
… 
Alexia’s hands slam down on the dining table, slapping against the wood with a loud bang. “Enough!” she exclaims, her voice slicing through the tense air like a knife. Her eyes blaze in fury and you shrivel, not quite sure what you have done to her. You grant her the silence she needs to continue, though her shout echoes through the shattered tranquillity like a bomb that continues to explode. “It is enough.” 
“What, Alexia?” 
You sound kind of… bored once you have regained your composure. Your shock is now replaced with a blank expression, and you run your eyes over your nails, examining your cuticles so that you don’t risk making eye contact with her. 
“You think you can just waltz in here as if you haven’t offered yourself to the entire world and expect everything to be okay?” Her voice trembles with indignation, venom dripping from each word she spits out. “You can’t go from common slut to mother in one day!” 
Nails forgotten, you square your shoulders and set your jaw. “I hadn’t realised you were the jealous type, Ale.” The nickname slips out like a poisonous dart, taunting her, wounding her. It rattles her, and you intend to shake her more. “It’s none of your business, not anymore. Deal with it – or don’t, I don’t care.”
“What kind of example are you setting for our children?” she continues, lips curling into a scornful sneer. “Kissing anything with a mouth! Like some, some hormonal teenager. And to have it all over the papers? It’s trashy! It’s embarrassing for me, because my wife has her hands down the pants of every woman she meets, pumped full of alcohol and drugs and… You, you go to these events, paid to get yourself on the front pages so that they can be mentioned in the location of the incident, and… and that’s like prostitution! Making money from your body, from sex!”
Her fists clench and she storms towards you, footsteps harsher than her bad knee can probably take, but you make no move to back down. You lift your chin up; “I don’t have to resort to prostitution for money. I have more than enough.” 
“Then you do it for attention,” Alexia reasons with herself, albeit very loudly. “That is what you are, aren’t you? A slut for the cameras and the glitz and glamour of it all. So quick to jet off on tour, leaving me with our children–” 
“I may be a ‘slut’ for attention, but at least I am not a whore for a woman who is not my fucking wife!” You press your hand to her chest roughly, pushing her away from you. “I’m not the one who had an affair, I’m not the one who ruined everything!”
Alexia recoils at your words, freeing herself from your searing touch before she melts. She forces her fury to its boiling point. “How dare you,” she seethes, voice cracking at the ferocity in which she forces the sentence out. “You think you can just throw my mistakes in my face?” You hold your ground. She will not intimidate you. “You think you’re so righteous, but you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.” 
It is a baseless accusation. You both know it. 
“The only fact we have here is that you fucked Jenni. Our daughter’s godmother. Your ‘best friend’, my friend too! I trusted her, and I trusted you, and you took that trust and obliterated it by sleeping with her!” 
Alexia wants to cut you deep, wants to give you the gory details of it all, but she hears the croak of your voice and knows you will not make it to your hotel if she tells you.
“I slept with Jenni, sure, but you have passed yourself around enough to make us even.”
“Nothing will make us ‘even’, Alexia,” you cry, meaning to sound scarier than you do. You can’t help the tears from streaming down your face, nor the hoarseness of your throat. “And I would never ever do to you what you did to me!” 
You have to go on vocal rest the next day, otherwise the concert would be called off. 
Alexia refuses to attend, even though most of her teammates will, instead pawning Nico and Elena off to your backstage staff and dangerously driving herself to Alba’s place. 
It is one of those nights where Alba cannot leave her side for fear Alexia will choke herself to death on her tears. When the elder of the two can longer hold it all in, Alba ties her hair back with an old hair bobble so that the blonde strands don’t get in the way of her sister’s vomit. 
("I don't want to live like this," Alexia says, her eyes wide and alert. Her little sister looks at her with empathy, searching, with a broken heart, for a version of a woman from the past she's not sure she knows. This Alexia is not the same.
"Of course you don’t." It's obvious. Obvious by the way she forces her existence without happiness, without company, without a smile. It's like there is no sun in Alexia's world, nor a blue sky, nor an end.
It never ends.
So, she says, "I don't want to live like this, without her, without the family I dream of every night, every waking moment. I don’t want to live, Alba. I didn’t want to live in August, and I haven’t since, and I… I do it because people rely on me." She takes in a deep, acidic breath, grimacing at the taste of bile on her tongue. “If it were just me, just Alexia”--The Ruiner, she silently adds–“I wouldn’t be here. Alba, Alba, I don’t want to live like this.”
She carries on repeating it because Alba has to understand. There can't be a possibility that Alba thinks her sister is insincere. What a lie that would be! To Alexia, she prefers death over continuing like this, with her head in the toilet and vomiting, vomiting, vomiting. 
"If I had the chance, I would go back to August 2021 and never sleep with Jenni. I’d not let her kiss me, not give into it. I'm exhausted from it; from my loneliness, from the kids' questions, asking when their mother will come back home. Do you know that Nico asked me if we still loved him? If she still loves him? And why his friends have two parents and he seems to have a shell of a woman for one, and a vacant space in the king-sized bed for the other?"
"She might not want you again, however, and your imagined future may be false – it is the opposite of reality, no? If I were her, I wouldn't. You cheated on her when she only gave you love and patience and… Well, Alexia, I swear I really want to see you happy, but I just don't think she'll forgive you."
"And why not?"
Alba sighs. She places her hand on Alexia's back, moving it in circles to calm her sister down. When they were little, it was always Alexia who helped Alba. With school, with her problems, with new lovers or ones from the past. It was her responsibility to take care of her little sister, and when their father died and there were only three of them, Alexia felt that responsibility even more. 
Here, roles reversed, Alba can only apply that which she has learnt from the heaving lump of flesh slumped on the chequered tiles. 
"Alba," repeats Alexia, lowering her voice, relenting. "She loves me."
The younger of the two can’t help the tears that brim in her eyes, distressed in her own right. "She loves you despite your other girlfriend because she's a saint. She's a saint but, if you want her to be happy, you cannot take advantage of her," Alba warns gravely, sincerely, and correctly. Alexia lifts her head and looks at the clock on the bathroom wall. Alba's apartment is clean and trendy, just like the woman, and she has dirtied it with her presence. She remains, for the foreseeable future, Alexia, The Ruiner. 
"Smartass."
"It's just the truth."
"Well, if that's the truth, I'd rather you be a liar."
Alba sighs again, more heavily, and asks Alexia to get up from the floor. If Alexia's knee hurts, she says nothing and jumps up and down. "Ay, your knee," Alba grumbles but Alexia keeps going. She keeps going and going until she can't breathe and her lungs hurt. She keeps going because she believes it will rid her of her sadness, or at least hopes so. She hasn't stopped when Alba asks her to. A loud voice breaks the silence. "What are you doing?"
"Destroying everything. If I can't be with her, I don't want to play football. I don't want to walk, or see, or talk. I just don't want to live."
To Alba, this tells her two things. One is that her sister has gone batshit crazy. The other? Well, that is the solution. It's simple, really; one sentence, and Alexia will know what she has to do.
"You need to fix this.")
Heartbreak is ugly, but Alexia’s guilt is uglier.
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apricityxoxo · 1 month
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Help and Care
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✧.* Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader
✧.* wc 5,786 (teheeheee)
✧.* summary: he definitely didn't need help, he doesn't need someone to care for him. no one has ever helped him before, and no one ever cared so why would they start now. he doesn't care, he definitely doesn't need help. so why does he keep ending up in the infirmary with the beautiful nurse? and why does he keep coming back to you?
✧.* contents: fluff, a bit of angst, and a sprinkle of suggestive dialogue
here's the whole story! it took me a while but I hope you all enjoy it, sorry I'm a perfectionist. I had a lot of fun writing this but let me know what you all think. i might write a pt 2 to this idk. Also pls excuse the medical and military inaccuracies
enjoy
Help. He hates help. He can’t stand it. When others look at him, when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see himself as someone dependent on others. Why else would he enlist, he didn’t need help, he learned that the hard way. No one ever helped him and he adjusted, so why would he need help now? People are dependent on him; they rely on him. When someone is injured, scared, or dead it’s up to him to fix the situation, to solve the problems of others, to carry the fallen.
When Price told him to go to the nurse he was upset, actually, he was pissed. He was not a child who scraped his knee playing football at school. He was a soldier; he was more than a mere man. He knew how to endure, he knew how to carry his weight, and he knew that he didn’t need to see the nurse. He knew what was wrong with him, he just bruised his ribs. He didn’t need some old woman with a bad attitude to tell him what he already knew.
He endured and he resisted the pain for exactly two weeks, but the pain was only getting worse. He was confused and didn’t know what to do, he hoped that no one had noticed and he didn’t want people to start. He didn’t want questions or concerns, he wanted relief and nothing more.
He thought no one would notice and he was so wrong.
Training.
Simon hated training the new recruits, they were cocky and they didn’t know their place. They thought after joining and passing the initial physical exams, they were done.
They were most definitely not done. They needed to adjust, physically and mentally, to fit in. Many people think the initial physical and mental exams are where new recruits break, no they break here, during training…with him. He hated it but knew why Price asked him to do it.
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Price usually did rounds during training, he watched the recruits and the techniques of the other task forces. The smell of sweat, dirt, and blood filled his system and that smell drew his attention to Ghost. Today he felt the need to check on Ghost and see how he was doing. Ghost was a good teacher even though he didn’t realize this, Price did though.
Ghost was mean, harsh, and disciplined, and the people he taught tended not to last long, however, the ones who did turn out to be great because the one thing that Ghost teaches best is endurance.
When Price was watching him train, he started to get upset and confused. This was most definitely different from the big and bad Ghost he was used to. He thought at first that "maybe Ghost was pulling his punches?" When he paired Ghost up to train some of the rookies, he thought maybe Simon was finally going soft.
Usually after training, the rookies would be sore, and in pain, sometimes they might even need to be excused to nurse. However, these past few weeks the rookies have been surprisingly...fine. Maybe even better than fine and it's been making them cocky, it's boosted some of their egos.
It would probably boost his ego too, Price chuckled. If he were to beat the big, brutal, scary Ghost while still a rookie. However, they are starting to get obnoxious because they are taunting and boasting, which is certainly something that Price could not have. It was starting to piss him off. Price was going to tell Ghost that if he didn’t put these pricks in line, there were going to be consequences.
That was the plan, but then he took a closer look and that’s when he saw it.
He saw the way that Ghost taking more hits than normal, he was slow to react and he was even slower to respond. His stance was off as well, usually his form made him feel like a giant among men but now he looked like he was shrinking himself, like it was his first day of training. Ghost wasn’t pulling his punches, he wasn't holding back, he was weak.
Now he was pissed.
Price knew.
Price knew exactly why Ghost wasn’t as strong as he usually is, why his punches aren’t as powerful as they normally are. Ghost was a disobedient bastard and Price was pissed.
“STOP! That’s enough training for today, soldiers.”
“Ghost, come now!”
“Yes, Captain” Ghost replied in his thick Manchester accent.
“The hell is wrong with you Lieutenant!”
“Nothin' Capt’n, I'm just-”
“You’re just hurt, did you go to the nurse?” Price knew the answer.
“I didn’t feel the need to go to the medical facility Capt’n”
“You didn’t feel the need to go?” Price asked Simon and looked at him like he was crazy. Since when did his soldiers feel the need for an opinion?
“If you don’t get your ass to the medical facility right now, you’re going to be training these pricks for three months straight. You understand?”
“Yessir!”
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Unbelievable!
He doesn’t need to be here. As he walks to the nurse’s offices, he feels everyone's eyes on him. He’s rarely ever here and because of that it draws the eye, lots of them. He thanked his balaclava every day because without it, based on the face he was making, some might think he was actually nervous.
He doesn’t want some old hag telling him what to do and degrading him for not coming sooner. Some old nurse or doctor telling him everything he already knows just to insult him and show off their vast vocabulary just to try and make him feel small. that’s what they all do, that’s what his father did.
He approaches the front desk and the older woman tells him to go to office number 222. He makes his way over, navigating the hallways,  and he finds the office. The sign is decorated with small pink flowers and a white cat with a red bow. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Before he goes and knocks on the door, he dries his palms on his pants, desperately hoping to get over this.
Knock-knock.
Some time passed but then he heard a soft voice say…
“Come on in”
He opened the door and he was surprised that the soft voice matched a beautifully soft face. A face with beautifully unique features that worked together in harmony to make the beautiful woman that sat before him.
God damn.
Those were the only words on his mind.
It wasn’t an old woman who looked like she had a chip on her shoulder and carried a deep grudge, nor someone who looked like they were going to insult him… no. definitely not.
It was a young woman.
A beautiful young woman.
A beautiful young woman with the most inviting features. Absolutely gorgeous, he’s never seen a woman this beautiful ever on this base. He feels like she doesn’t belong here, her face is an exact contrast to the environment he surrounds himself every day. He has a million questions he wants to ask her, and he feels the strong urge to get closer to her. He’s such a creep. He doesn’t even know her name.
He feels his mouth goes dry and his hands sweat. Gross. He hasn’t felt this way since Secondary School, he feels like a dork and he doesn’t know what is wrong with him.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you!” Her voice was cheery and if he was a little bit more nervous, he wouldn’t notice the shock on her face and the tremble in her voice. He was used to that reaction; it was probably due to his appearance. her voice matched her face and he felt his heart beat faster, he finally was going to die.
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He was just staring at you, he was just looking. You’ve heard rumors of him, of his personality. The big bad Ghost, the professional killer who lacks mercy for anyone. He was just staring at you and it was freaking you out. What’s wrong with him, why is he here in the nurse's office? Did he hurt someone? Or worse…
He’s still staring.
“… excuse me, is everything alright?”
“Erm…yeah, sorry” he responded and if your mind weren’t running a mile a minute you would have heard the way he sounded nervous.
He clears his throat and then replies “Captain Price has recommended I take a visit down here.” God his voice was so deep. He was so smooth, he had a thick accent that wasn’t like any of the others you heard on base. His voice was not at all soft but the way he spoke made something bubble inside you. 
Wait. ‘take a visit down here’
Oh. He needed help. 
“Oh… okay sir, what seems to be the problem?” You try your best to put on your customer service voice and hide the fact that you're wondering what this man might need help with. 
“Erm… last deployment I bruised my ribs real bad, don't know how…”
You try to listen, you have to pretend to do so. You're writing as he describes his symptoms. He has stomach pain, difficulty breathing, tenderness in his abdomen, and bruising. He describes his symptoms and you feel so bad for him and at the same time, you feel disgusted in yourself. 
Disgusted because instead of being focused on how he describes his pain, you focused on his attractive ass voice. You can't help it, you're just a girl. 
No, You need to remain a professional.
“Okay Lieutenant Riley, if it's all right with you, I’d like to examine your abdomen.”
“Yeah… that's fine” he sounds hesitant you feel bad… you feel like you need to reassure him.
“Don't worry lieutenant, I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.” you try to reassure him and when you do, you unconsciously give him a soft smile.
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Well, you have to ask him to take off his shirt. That was something that didn't occur to you. He doesn't have to comply, you could do the whole checkup with his shirt on. You hope he doesn't so you save yourself from embarrassment. 
“Sir, if you do not mind, may I ask you to remove your um… t-shirt?” you ask, trying your hardest to remain professional. It's completely reasonable for a medical professional to ask a patient to remove their shirt when they had an abdomen injury.
“You don't necessarily have to I'm sure I can find a way to…”
“I don't mind” Lieutenant Riley cuts you off as he agrees.
He sits on the examination table and removes his shirt.
You think you just died. You are short of breath and you think you died because there's an angel right in front of you. If you were anywhere else you would admire his powerfully built body, but you were more concerned with the bruising on his stomach.
You feel and you touch his body, extremely concerned about his well-being. His stomach was black and blue, his stomach was sore, and he could barely bend over. 
You were worried but also shocked because this man worked and trained in such a condition for about a week. You knew of Simon Riley and you knew of his reputation and this just supported the fact that he's an absolute abled-bodied unit… it was almost scary.
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“I believe you have a few broken ribs…sir.” You say almost scared of his reaction. He needed x-rays, actually he needed time off. 
“I'll recommend you an off-base X-ray Tech to take pictures of your abdomen, I also recommended to your captain that you take time off to heal. After we get your x-rays, I recommend you visit me every two weeks so we can look over your progress ” You tell him, distracted as you look over all your notes.
“Oh ok, every two weeks, and how long will it take to heal…” Luitenent Riley asked, he sounded nervous and you started to feel bad for talking to him so nonchalantly about his condition.
“Um should take about two months to heal. Ribs tend to heal rather quickly, however, since they weren't treated earlier it might take a while longer. Don't worry I’m sure you'll feel better rather quickly.” You try to give him a little bit of comfort. You give Luitenent Riley instructions, stating how to take care of himself and treat his injuries. 
He collects his stuff and is getting ready to leave before he turns around looks you up and meets your eye. 
“Thank you so much luv, ‘preciate it.” He tells you, in a soft accented voice.
“It's not a problem Luitenent.” You tell him and you feel your heart pick up its pace.
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Week 2 
He was supposed to visit today, you were expecting him today. You had all of his notes laid out and you were just waiting. 
Waiting.
Waiting. 
Other patients came and went but you were still looking forward to one specific client. The first time he visited you had no time to admire his large and confident stance when he walked into the room. He walked into the room with utter confidence as if he knew it would have an effect on you.
AND GAHHH LEEE
When he removed his shirt, you don't know how you controlled yourself. You knew he was a big man with a hefty build but you were not expecting what you saw. Your eyes were blessed with a solid, broad-shouldered, athletic man.
The literal definition of manly, if he wasn't in the military you were sure he would be off somewhere chopping wood or something. If you weren't at work you're sure you would be lying in bed kicking your feet.
When he spoke to you he had such a deep and low baritone voice that was heavily accented. You never had a thing for accents but he was something else completely. Low and intimidating, his language was professional but you could tell that he was trying not to curse and use slang. It's embarrassing to think about the things you'd do to hear him, swear or even say your name. In your head you know you’d sound like a rabid dog if he’d said it in that attractive ass voice-
Then you hear your name and think you might die. Actually, it was your last name and your medical title. But still—
It’s him.
He’s here. 
Remain professional! you scream and shout at yourself.
You greet him and try to make small talk, asking him how he’s doing, how he’s feeling, and what he’s been doing with his time off. It's hard, he's such a beefy and attractive man. You can't even see his face but based on just the way he walks, you know he's fine. 
Admittedly, working on this base that’s far away from your home made you forget how to act around an attractive man…
“Been reading too, I'm trying to distract myself. If ya have any recommendations just let me know.” he interrupts your thoughts and you relate to him. It gets boring between deployment he tells.
“What do you usually do between deployments?” you ask, sincerely.
“Train, train myself then train with others.” He replies.
You don’t ask anything else, you know that he must miss training every day. The way he says it makes you feel bad. You know many of the soldiers find solitude when they work on themselves and train. It calms them and helps them recover, it's almost a form of therapy. Simon can't do that, not with his injury. You feel a pang in your chest. 
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You go over his notes and x-rays. You give him a checkup and note that he’s healing rather quickly, based on the other scars you know that this isn’t his worst injury. 
You catch his eyes when you are going over everything with him and explaining your notes to him. He’s looking at you with his golden green eyes, staring you up and down. You feel sort of embarrassed because you don't feel cute at this moment. You didn’t put makeup on in the morning, just gloss on your plumped lip and curled your eyelashes. Your wash day is coming up too so you wrapped your hair in a colorful scar today.
The way he looked at you was the way men would look when you would walk into a club. When you had a full face and your hair was freshly done. When you had a tight and short dress that would accentuate your beautiful curves. When you knew that you looked stunning that's the way he was looking at you, right now.
His visit was finished and you put the date for the next visit in your calendar. Before he leaves he thanks you.
“I don't like doctors but I appreciate all you've done for me, miss.”
“Thank you Luitenenent, if you ever need a book recommendation you can always come see me.”
“Thank you.” He tells you and even though you can't see his face, you feel a smile radiate off him.
You feel like he’s such a kind man.
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Week 4
Today, on his next visit, he’s not as kind.
You know why. You can tell that he's antsy, that he wants to get back to work. He’s rushing the process and wants to do everything you told him not to do. He wants to disregard all the instructions you gave him. You’re used to that, soldiers want to get back to their daily routine and they’re itching to do something strenuous during the healing process.
You would be fine with that if it were not for his shortness with you. He was annoyed and that was completely acceptable but there was no need to be curt and downright rude to you.
His answers were short. After each question, while trying to make small talk he replied with a ‘Mmhmm’. He didn't make eye contact with you and when you would suggest activities for him to try and distract him, he would roll his eyes and brush it off. 
He didn't want to chat and you feel like this is not the same man, who came to visit last time.
Today’s visit was short, there was clearly no need for small talk on his end and no time for the flirting you wanted to do. 
You did yourself up today too and now that you think back at it, it feels like a waste of time. You enjoyed the visit you had with him last time you were looking forward to today's visit. However, that feeling quickly dissipated, when Luitenenent Riley came in with a bad attitude and short tone. You had no time for this today, you think you even returned that same energy. So the visit was short and he left with a slammed door following behind him.
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Lunchtime came around and you were most definitely looking forward to it. After a long day, that wasn't even over, all you wanted to do was eat. You grab your book and sit in your designated corner to eat in the loud cafeteria.
You feel relaxed when you start eating and open up your book. The loud cafeteria with the chatter of men and women surrounds you. It's kind of calming when you think about it. The laughs, small talk, and clattering cutlery fade in the background around you. This is just what you need after such a long and tiresome day. 
You try to focus on your book but then you are interrupted by someone clearing their throat.
“Is this seat taken?” You glance up from your book, you find him standing there, his presence commanding attention even in the busy room. Lieutenant Riley is looking down at you with a food tray in his hands. He refers to the seat across from you and you shake your head no. You try to avoid eye contact when he sits down, still feeling annoyed from earlier. 
He lifts his balaclava over his mouth and you both eat in silence. There’s a growing tension around you both. 
You eat your food and busy yourself with your book, however you can feel him looking at you. He ate in silence, his eyes occasionally meeting yours before darting away.
It was irritating.
Earlier he was being rude and barely talking to you and now he was acting timid, the audacity. You started to pick up the pace and eat your lunch faster.
Then he interrupted his silence with his deep sultry voice.
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was disrespectful to you when you were only trying to help. I'm sorry. I've honestly been sick and tired of sitting around and doing nothing that I took out my anger on you and for that, I apologize.” It sounded like he practiced this. It makes you smile thinking about the Ghost practicing an apology in the mirror. You can just imagine him practicing and it warms your heart that he put this much energy into an apology.
“Thank you for your apology.” You reply in a soft voice.
There was silence for a while but it was interrupted by your voice.
“Um…I know it's hard, not being able to do the things you used to be able to do. I'm sure soon you will be able to get back to your routine and do everything that you want to do… and more. If You need to talk to someone, you can always come and see me. ” You tell him, a bit timidly. All you want to bring comfort to him and reassure him.
“Thank you,” he replies.
“No problem Luitenent” you respond.
“Call me, Simon.”
That was the end of the conversation. There was a soft smile on your face, and you both sat in a comfortable silence, taking quick glances at each other.
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Week 6
This next visit was much more casual than the previous two. Throughout the whole week before this upcoming visit, he’s been stopping by your office. 
In the beginning, he would just stop and say hello and indulge you with some small talk. Nothing more than checking in on you and asking how your day was. However lately, he’s been getting comfortable here. He’s claimed the large decorative leather chair in the corner of your office, closest to your desk. 
He would just sit there and talk to you about anything and everything. Conversations went from favorite foods to his most recent reads to how long you’ve been an RN. 
The other nurses in the building have gotten used to his presence in your office. When they come to visit or drop something off, his presence doesn’t throw them off anymore.  They’re used to the large man sitting comfortably in your office. 
Today was no different, he stopped by in the morning and you both got to chatting. An hour went by when it felt like mere minutes. Time flew by so fast that you almost forgot about his checkup.
“Oh!” You exclaim. “I'm such an idiot, I almost forgot why you were here Simon.” you shoot up from your desk and walk over to the examination table, slapping it twice with a big grin on your face
“Alright Simon, let’s get this over with!” You sell him with a large smile on your face. 
Simon slaps his knees and pushes himself off of the deep and comfortable chair. He makes his way across your office looking at all of the flowers around your office and the Sanrio Characters you have scattered around. 
When he gets to the examination table, just as you're about to move out of the way, he grabs your waist and moves you to the side. He lets his hands linger and he makes eye contact with you as he sits on the chair. 
You're certain he’s smiling under that stupid balaclava.
Cocky bastard. 
You clear your throat and attempt to focus on your work. The checkup only lasts a few minutes, he’s getting so much better. You would be so excited to tell him that he can start getting back to his normal routine, but you're distracted.
Distracted because he’s so touchy. First, he touches your waist, he must know that it has some sort of effect on you because then he touches your clothes. 
During the checkup when you need to do something basic and mindless, he grabs the corner of your coat and rubs yours between his fingers. When you speak to him he’s doing the same with your black scrubs.
“You can start getting back to your regular routine, like training and stuff. Don’t rush it or anything, just …baby steps'' you say, you move yourself to stand in between his legs.
“That right?” He asks but he’s not focused on what you say. He’s focused on your plump lips and you think it’s turning you on. His eyes slowly make their way back to your eyes. 
“Mmmhhh! But nothing too rough.” You reply looking back at him. You feel his hands make their way up your waist. 
“Not even a little rough?” He asks. You both start to lean closer and he takes one hand off of your waist and takes it toward his mask. 
Oh god! What is he doing? Is he going to show his face? Kiss you! Or maybe—
Knock Knock
The loud knock draws your attention away from Simon and you pull yourself away from between his legs.
You clear your throat and attempt to fix yourself even though you two have done nothing. 
“Come in!” You shout, voice cracking a bit. 
One of the more intimidating on-field military nurses enters your office. Unlike you, this nurse is trained for the field and it shows. She is tall with broad muscular shoulders, and she confidently walks into the room with a skeptical look on her face. 
She takes a look at both you and Simon before addressing you. Telling you that your presence is wanted somewhere else. 
“Oh okay… I’ll be there in five ma’am.” You reply and she makes her way out of your office with a raised eyebrow at Simon. 
“Okay, Simon! your next check is in two weeks and that’s your last one, congratulations.” You address Simon trying to make it seem like you don’t remember the moment you two had before you were interrupted. Simon stands and makes his way over to you, stops right in front of you, and towers over you. If he was anyone else you’d give them hell for popping your personal space bubble.
“Alright…Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at you. 
“Are you injured?” You ask sarcastically. 
“Got a paper cut. That’s what I get for reading” He shows you his thumb and starts to chuckle. You laugh right along with him. You look up at him and nod, you smile while biting your lip. 
“See you tomorrow Si”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆。 ˚⋆
Week 8
Two months.
He’s known you for two months and he still doesn’t know how to act around you. This past month he’s seen you almost every day constantly visiting you. He feels like every day he’s getting to know you better and better. You’re a genius, graduating high school and college early which explains why you're so young. You love this little Japanese cat thing that’s called Hello Kitty. Your favorite flowers are tulips, and that’s something that stuck out to him. 
Tulips stuck out so much that he used his last day of time off to go out off base and buy you some. Today is his last official visit with you but he most definitely doesn’t want to make it his last time seeing you. He wants to see you more, a lot more. He wants to see you outside of work, he wants to see you outside your work clothes. He wants to see you in jeans, a dress, in his bed—
He shakes his head, trying to stop himself from thinking like that. It’s disrespectful to you, he hasn’t known you for longer than a couple of months, and he can’t think about you that way. 
It’s hard not thinking like that. He thinks about his third visit with you, when you both were rudely interrupted. He thinks about what your waist feels like, what your face looks like. He thinks about it often, especially at night–
He cringes at himself, he feels like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman. 
He tries to distract himself by looking at the tulips he bought for you. They’re closed and pink with long green stems. They’re beautiful just like you. He doesn’t understand, how someone can be so effortlessly beautiful. 
When you wear makeup or no makeup: beautiful. When you have your hair down and natural, sleek and bone straight, or up in braids, buns, or a scarf: beautiful. He can’t begin to comprehend it. 
Not only are you beautiful on the outside you have the personality of a goddess. You’re kind and compassionate but not afraid to snap back when someone gets out of line. That’s what makes him nervous, the doubts start flooding his mind. 
He’s still staring at the tulips when Soap enters his room. Unannounced. 
Soap comes into his quarters and scatters around the room. He looks in draws and under furniture, he's scattering stuff around as if he lives here. He is tossing his stuff around and looking in places he shouldn't be. Ghost hasn't even looked up, hasn't even acknowledged his presence. Ghost rolls his eyes so far back into his head when he hears Johnny whining to himself. 
“What’re ya lookin’ for Johnny?” He inquires in an irritated tone. 
“Lookin’ for my char–” He cuts himself off as finally looks up at Simon. He sees Simon slouched over his bed looking at the pot with pretty pink tulips and a wide, knowing, mischievous grin appears on his face. He looks like the Cheshire cat.
“Look at you Simon, those for that bird you've become so fond of…”
“Watch it Johnny” Ghost finally looks up, he's not pleased. Johnny continues like a mindless, careless, idiot.
“I've heard the rumors, some field nurse says she saw you two in her office…alone. Good on you Riley. Yer getting old now, ya deserve something like that. Herd shes a beauty too. ” He laughs obnoxiously at his own jokes. He slaps Ghost on the hard on his back and continues searching around his room
Ghost sits in silence for a while, thinking about Johnny’s words, he knows that he is joking, he’s not serious.
‘“Whatdya mean by I deserve something like that?” He finally inquires, the question was practically running around his mind. Johnny continued searching around the room as he answered his question.
“Well you know, ya have had a hard life. Yer always helping people, always trying to be the best, and ya never really had that soft life. I know ya don't think it but yer a good man and you deserve a good woman. We don't live forever so think ya should take the risk and do what you have to do… Are you sure you don't have my charger? He asked after giving some of the most meaningful advice that he'd ever heard.
“Get out,” he replied annoyed by his short attention span.
“Maybe Gaz has it,” he says and leaves the room as if nothing happened.
Those words resonate with Simon and he thinks about them for a long time. The time of the appointment was getting closer and closer. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about what he was going to say to you. He wanted to make it meaningful, he wanted to ask you out on a date. 
He wanted your friendship to continue and he wanted your relationship to grow and become more and more personal. He hasn't done this in a long time and he wanted it to mean something. 
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆。 ˚⋆
15 minutes.
He had 15 minutes to figure out what the hell he was going to do.
As he made his way down the familiar hallway toward your office, every step seemed to quicken the pace of his heartbeat. The clock was counting down, each second would go by, getting closer to the moment. In his hands, he held a bouquet of vibrant tulips. He knows that he is catching the eyes of the people around him but each person he passed seemed to fade into the background.
It felt like when he visited you the first time, his hands were sweating and he was nervous. He says ‘hello’ to the woman at the front desk. Even though her attitude has always been rude and uptight however he thanks her every day for sending him to office number 222. The number that completely changed his life.
Now, standing just a few steps away from your door, his mind blanked, and his carefully rehearsed words were completely forgotten. Doubt starting to flood his veins. His hands are sweating again, and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He doesn't know if he can do this, he feels like it is a mistake but his feet won't stop. 
They won't stop because even though his brain is telling him to stop, his heart won't let him.
It's been years since he's ever felt this nervous, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He finally arrives in front of your door and holds the flowers behind his back. He gets ready to knock and says a silent prayer to whoever or whatever higher being is listening.  
He knocks.
He waits a beat and then he hears your beautiful voice say “Come on in.”
Right as you say that without thinking Simon impulsively rips off his balaclava off his face and opens the door. He watches as you slowly look up and he swears he sees a natural glow around you. 
“Hi, how can I help you?”
He doesn't respond, instead, he slowly brings the tulips to his front and presents them to you with a soft smile. You look at the man and he watches as you raise an eyebrow, it's like he can see the clogs turning in your head. Then he sees the pieces being put together in your head and your face lights up.
“Simon?” You ask with a gorgeous smile.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆。 ˚⋆
giggling and kicking my feet
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Ready, Aim, Shoot (2)
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Hi guys !
I hope you are fine. I’m still struggling with writer’s block but I tried some things to get over it, so here is my new creation.
It’s a mix from a request I had here, and for asks from the prompt that you can find here and here.
It’s the second part of Ready, Aim, Shoot but I tried to make it understandable even if you didn’t have read the first part.
So please enjoy ♥
TW : Mention of accident, coma, injuries, blood. But it will get better.
Prompt : 22 (I won't anyone lay an hand on you) & 28 (Why are you bleeding?)
____________________________________________________________
You never felt as weird as Alexia takes you home from the airport. Barcelona doesn’t have change in any way, it’s still the same streets, the same traffic jam, the same scents, the same laughs and happiness of people. But you, you have changed. What you have to get through make you change. You’ve learned the death of three of your colleagues. They are dead and you are not. Some of them had kids, lovers and they are dead. Why you, aren’t you dead? Why did you survive the bomb, your injuries when others didn’t?
Alexia puts her hand delicately on your knee and you jump, returning to reality. She looks at you with concern and you try to give her a smile, but you fail.
“It’s going to be alright, mi Amor. You are not alone. I’m here so is your parents, your siblings and your friends.”
“I know” you confirm quietly. “I’m sorry”
“You don’t have to be for anything mi Amor.”
You put your hand on Alexia’s, stroking her fingers with your thumb while looking outside. The sun is shining and you’re pretty sure that all the beaches are crowded with people. You always loved going there but with Alexia’s popularity you have to find more quiet beaches. Which you don’t mind. As long as you’re with her, it’s all that it matters.
At home, you are greeted by your cat who comes to rub himself against your legs while meowing, until you lower yourself to carry him. The movement makes you wince in pain, which Alexia doesn’t miss. But you assure her it’s okay, squeezing Diabolo against you. He let you do it for some minutes, before leaving your arms to go back to sleep.
“Glad to see that some things will never change” you roll your eyes.
Alexia laughs slightly, coming back from the bathroom where she putted your suitcase that she didn’t let you carry. She takes your hand in hers, taking you gently against her.
“If you hug me, you’ll see that I will never let you go”
“Take that Diabolo.”
You smile, getting as close as your injuries let you do it. The painkiller seems to start to stop working and you surely have to take one soon. But first you need to take a good shower, you’re not allowed to take a bath because of your scars.
“I’m going to take a shower” you inform your girlfriend.
She nods, kisses your cheek and follows you to the bathroom. You started to get off of your clothes, before stopping. You usually don’t mind Alexia’s presence in the bathroom when you take your shower, it’s a moment where you talk a lot about things. Sometimes she showers with you, other times she does different facial or hair treatments or she just sit on the toilet lid.
But today, you have way more scares than before and you’re not sure that you want Alexia to see it. The blonde sees you looking at her through the mirror and bites her lip. She immediately understands your torment.
“I’ll leave if you want. But I want you to know that it won’t change the way I look at you or the way I love you. No matter how your body is, you’re still you. And I will always love you.”
You nod, but you’re still nervous. Like if she doesn’t want to scare you, Alexia come to you slowly, surrounding you with her arms.
“Let me help you?”
She’s looking at your eyes in the mirror and you nod one more time. You let her take off your shirt and pants. She had done that a thousand times, but always with teasing hands or eagerly. Today, however, her hands are sweet and caring, as if she wanted to heal you with them. She also removes the protection on your knee and shoulder, with a thousand precautions.
She frowns when she sees your injuries. Your nose doesn’t look broken anymore, but you still have bruises and cuts. You swallow but then you see that she’s looking at one of your scare on your stomach.
“Why are you bleeding?”
You follow her eyes and shrug lightly.
“This one seems to have difficulty to heal” you mumble.
“I’ll take you to the Barca’s medic tomorrow. But now, you have to take your shower and get some rest.”
********
Alexia takes you to her favorite medical team and they work their magic. You still have pain sometimes, especially on your shoulder, but you are getting better. You filed your resignation some days after your arrival at Barcelona and it’s not a surprise for anyone. Some media tried to talk to you about what happened, but you shut them down every time. It’s too soon.
You’re pretty great during the day, you keep yourself busy with things. Alexia is almost always there with you and when she isn’t, you have friends or family visiting. Alexia takes you to walk in early morning for Nala’s stroking, every day. She’s an angel of patience, always kind, caring and loving. You cook for her every night, following her diet with attention. This allows you to occupy your mind and hands.
Your girlfriend and family insist that you go to see a specialist, to talk about what you’ve been through. You hate this. It’s always hard for you to talk about all this. You beg almost every time Alexia to not make you go, but she’s determined, confident that it will help you get better quickly. The worst thing is that she’s right.
At nights, however, it’s more difficult. You have trouble to fall asleep even if you avoid naps during the day to help you falling asleep. But it doesn’t work well. You stay still in your bed for hours; you don’t want to wake Alexia up. She takes so good care of you, she deserves her beauty sleep.
And when you fall asleep, you have a lot of nightmares. It’s normal and a process to get better if you listen to your psychoanalyst. But it’s still terrifying. For you and your girlfriend.
Once again tonight, Alexia is awakened by your scream of terrors. You’re still asleep in your nightmare when she sits on the bed. You’re turning around, the sheet wrapped around you, fighting against your nightmare. It’s always difficult for her to wake you up, she scared that you hurt yourself when you’re jiggling like that, but she’s scared too that she might hurt you.
So, she takes your face between her hands, calling you several times before you finally open your eyes.
“Alexia” you call her, terrified.
“I’m here mi Amor. It’s ok. You’re ok.”
You sit down too, looking around you. You become aware of the bedroom you share with Alexia and her presence at your side. She’s stroking your arm lightly, looking at you patiently.
“Ale” you mumble this time.
“I’m here. You’re safe. I won't anyone lay a hand on you.”
She takes you on her arms, making you sit on her lap. Letting yourself go against her. She strokes your back this time, rocking you softly. You let your breath slow down, very aware of your quick heartbeat.
“I’m sorry”
Alexia takes the time to kiss your jaw, your cheek several times and your forehead before answering.
“You don’t have to be.”
“Yes, I do, Ale. I’m a mess. I can’t sleep and I can’t do a lot of things alone because of my injuries. I keep waking you up almost every night because I can’t get better. I should have listened to you and stay at Barcelona. I’m so so…”
But Alexia doesn’t let you finish, putting a finger on your lips to stop your rambling. Tears are in your eyes again but for now you managed to keep them inside your eyes.
“You’re getting better, Y/N. You don’t zone out like you did when you came back. You smile more, your injuries are getting better, and I see you smile way more than before. No one expects to you to heal in two days, especially not me. You took so good care of me when I was injured, now it’s my turn.”
She puts a hand on your cheek, making you look at her. Her hazel eyes are looking at you with so much care and love that it took your breath away.
“What if the nightmares never end Ale?”
“We will find a way to heal you, mi Amor. I swear.”
You believe her. She seems so sure of herself that you believe her. She kisses your cheek again and when you turn your face, she kisses the corner of your mouth first and then your lips. One time, two time and the third you press your lips a little longer against her.
********
Alexia was right. You get better, even if it takes time. You still have nightmare sometimes, but you manage to not wake Alexia up every time. She’s not happy when you don’t though, wanting to be there for you as much as she can.
When your shoulder is better, she lets you come back to look at her games, as long as you are with her sister or her mother. She’s way too scared that someone push you and hurt you again to let you go there by yourself. You feel bad for Alba or Eli, given the imperious tone with which Alexia orders them to watch over you. But the two women don’t seem to mind, looking at you like you are the most precious thing in the world. When you joke about it with Eli one time, she answers you that you are the most precious thing in Alexia’s word. You didn’t know what answer to that.
Alexia always takes a thousand precautions with you, whether you are at home or outside. She doesn’t hesitate to scold someone who approaches you too much or to carry you from one room to another to avoid working your knee after your physiotherapy sessions. Which she wants to take you every time, by the way.
And the best thing about all of this, she does all of this without being intrusive. On the contrary. Her presence reassures you and is a strength for you. Your recovery without her would have been very much longer.
Tonight, she’s not taking you at home immediately after the game like she did the other times. Instead, she takes you with her in the lobby where the families are going after the games. There you met her friends, that you also appreciate very much too.
“Take it easy, Lucy, you’re going to hurt her.”
Alexia practically teleported to your side when she saw Lucy take you in her arms to greet you.
“I’m careful Capi, don’t worry.”
You smile at Lucy after she told you she was happy to see you again. You’re seeing many of Alexia’s teammates you haven’t seen since you returned to Barcelona. But your girlfriend never walks away from you, except to get you something to drink. And when you start to get tired, she sees it immediately.
“Do you want to go home?” she whispers in your ear.
You smile softly, letting yourself go against her. She passes delicately her arms around your waist and put her chin on your shoulder.
“You’re having fun, we can stay a little bit longer if you want.”
“How is your knee?”
“I’m fine, Cariño.”
She hums and keep you against her for a few more moments, kissing softly your cheek.
“Five more minutes and we go.”
“Alright Capitana” you smirk.
She snorts, pinching your rib lightly, surely not to hurt you. You can’t wait for your bruises to completely disappear, so that Alexia can start touching you again like she used to. Her love language being touching, you sometimes feel like she has to restrained herself.
That’s what you’re thinking about in her car when she takes you home. You’re thinking about it when you prepare yourself to go to bed too and when you’re in her arms in your bed you start to overthink it maybe a little too much. What if she never touches you like before, because all she’s going to see from you is this wounded woman? What if she finds someone else wit who she wants to share this kind of moment with? Alexia saw that you were a little lost in your thoughts when you came home, but she didn’t push you to talk about it.
You just have to look up to know what she’s peacefully asleep. Her face is completely relaxed, and her chest rises peacefully to the rhythm of her breathing. Yours is quite complicated, so you choose to escape her arms to take refuge in your balcony, hopping the fresh air will help you.
Sitting in a chair, you put your head in your hands, trying to collect your thoughts. Alexia promised to never let you down, but how can she be certain that her feelings will never change?
You don’t know how many times you are staying here, but Alexia’s voice almost makes you fall from your seat. You’re so surprised that you don’t understand what she says to you. You just blink at her as she’s looking at you with a worried look.
“You will freeze to death, come inside please.”
You take the hand she hands you to help you get up. And she wraps you in her arms in a protective way as soon as she closes the door. The warm of her skin makes you realize that you are, in fact, very cold.
“Were you trying to get pneumonia or something?” she asks, frowning.
“I couldn’t sleep” you mumble.
She sighs and she doesn’t have to say what she’s thinking. You already know that she’s not happy that you didn’t wake her. She doesn’t bother to tell it to you anyway.
“Do you need a hot shower, or can we go to bed?”
“We can go to bed” you sigh.
She seems upset and you hesitate to lye against her, but she takes you back in her arms.
“Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, some minutes after.
“No” you simply answer.
“Why couldn't you sleep so?”
“I don’t know.”
Alexia knows that you’re lying, and she hates it. But she doesn’t say anything, knowing that you will talk about it when you are ready. Some minutes passes before you talk again.
“I’m just scared” you whisper in the darkness of your room.
“About what?”
Her voice learns you that she’s not sleepy at all. Maybe she decided to stay awake as long as you’re not sleeping. She raises herself a little bit, to have a better look at you.
“Losing you”
Your voice is a whisper, but Alexia reacts like if you were screaming, almost jumping from her place in the bed.
“Why would you lose me?”
You shrug, but Alexia doesn’t have it. She looks at you, waiting for you to give her a proper answer. You take your time to choose your words, scared of starting a fight. You try to escape the real discussion once again.
“I don’t know, it’s just my insecurities I guess.”
“Talk to me, mi Amor. Please”
You look at her and sit down, feeling like you have to look properly at her for this kind of things. Alexia sits too, her beautiful eyes looking deeply at you.
“I’m scared to never be enough for you again. I’m not saying that I was at one time, but right now… What if you never se me again like someone… I don’t know how to say it without being cringe.”
You roll your eyes, tired of yourself. Alexia shows you once again how much she can be patient though, taking your hand in hers to interlink your fingers together.
“I don’t want to be your poor injured girlfriend for the end of our life. I want you to see me as someone who can take one of our long walk again, someone who you can do everything you want with. Someone you can touch the way you like without being scared of hurting.”
Alexia is looking at you closely, listening every one of you word with deep care.
“When I hurt my knee, were you seeing me like someone reduced?”
“Of course not” you frown.
“Well it’s just the same thing for me. I don’t see you as my injured girlfriend, I see you as the love of my life that I almost lost some weeks before.”
“But my body isn’t the same anymore, Ale”
“Your scars will only remind me everyday how lucky I am to have you and how much I love you. And I will kiss them everyday to remind me of that.”
Raising slowly her hand on your cheek, she starts to stroke it softly, but her eyes are full of love when she looks at you. Deep, sincere love. Then she kisses you before taking you slowly in her arms again, making you lye on her.
“You can sleep tight mi Amor. I’ll always be here.”
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hellfire--cult · 5 months
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SoftDom!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
wc: 4k
+18 MDNI, SOME fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, blowjob, rough sex, bondage, breeding kink, dirty talk, non-safe sex, reader being a bratty fiancé
Plot: The pandemic had its ups and downs. One of the good things it brought was the fact that your husband can forever work remotely from home. But you sometimes get a little needy.
A/N: Just filth. Pure filth.
please always reblog, thank you
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HOME OFFICE
The pandemic had its ups and downs.
You for one, didn’t mind staying home, but you did miss your friends and family terribly. You’ve always worked online and remotely at home for a company outside the country, so that wasn’t something that changed for you like it did for many others.
In those many others, it includes your husband.
You thought he would return to the office as soon as it was declared that you could head outside, but no such thing happened. It seems that there’s more productivity from people working at home rather than going physically to the workplace. You don’t work 9-5 like your husband does, so you have time to clean the house a little bit, cook lunch and dinner. 
He would always be so grateful for the food. Sometimes he would be in a meeting and you would come in very quietly and place the plate of food and a glass of water on the corner of the desk and then head out. Twenty minutes later your husband would rush out of the room as soon as the meeting was over to pepper your face in kisses as if to say thank you for the attention. 
But there were times when your husband wasn’t having the best of days. 
Working from home also stresses you out sometimes, because you are overwhelmed with stuff because, since you’re more productive, they give you more things to do. That’s just what they do to your poor husband. But there are times that he overworks himself just because he thinks he needs to.
Like today.
“Baby, you should’ve gotten off work two hours ago…” You cooed at him from the doorway, wearing a silk robe on your body and just that. For the past week your husband has not been paying attention to you, and it’s because he is just being a people pleaser. 
“I’m just trying to finish this sheet sweetheart, promise I’ll get off soon.” That wasn’t the answer you wanted from him at all. 
“Steve…” You were whining now, and his head turned to look at you for a second, and that’s when you saw the instant click in your husband’s eyes.
Your husband was overall sweet, and very dutiful. He was always considered the mom of your group of friends, even though you were right there. Always taking care of others before himself, and always being one step ahead of stuff in order to say ‘already took care of it’.
But there was a side that only you knew about your husband. You got to know it when you two were one year into the relationship, three years ago. You two had just moved in together, and you were cranky for not being able to sleep comfortably in your new bed, taking your time to adjust into it. 
So of course, you were snappy at everything your husband did wrong, even if it was leaving the toilet seat up, or leaving one single used spoon in the sink. That night, you got to meet a side of your boyfriend you never expected from him, yet you were delighted, and your mood instantly got better afterwards.
This side of him is only triggered… when you’re being a brat.
“I am working. Don’t whine.” Steve said in a very stern voice, a voice that only ignited the heat between your legs even more than before. His eyes returned to the computer as he began typing away. 
You licked the inside of your cheek and you strutted towards the desk which was in the middle of the room, putting both of your hands on the edge that was on the other side of him, and you leaned forward, looking down at your husband.
“I whine cause you haven’t been paying attention to me for the past week.” He only gave you one glance, not caring for how much you were showing your cleavage to him, and his eyes went back to the screen in front of him, his fingers never stopping from typing. You could see the reflection of the computer on his glasses, and it just irritated you even more.
“You know there’s always a week that I’m full of work. We’ll do whatever you want tomo–”
“Now!” You stomped your foot with a whiny cry, as if you were a child, but you were tired of being pent up because of this, and he closed his eyes with a sigh, but you could also hear a groan in his throat.
“Don’t be a fucking brat.” He called your name, a threat, and you straightened up after that, and he didn’t say anything else. He resumed his typing and you were angry. Seething. You had two options right here: One of them was to walk out of the room, take care of yourself in the room, and then go cook dinner…
Or…
You dropped on your knees and immediately crawled under the desk, finding his legs that were covered in grey sweatpants as your hands started from his ankles, and slowly gliding them up, biting your bottom lip as you reached his thighs. You heard him take a deep intake of breath, but the typing never stopped, which only made you even more frustrated.
You hummed as you reached his bulge, and you smirked as you found some hardness in the pants. You did rile him up when you walked into the room. You pressed your hand onto it and you felt him move, even if slightly, on his chair. You started rubbing onto it, slowly, and you could feel his cock getting harder by each stroke, a tent starting to form under the cloth.
Your hands then went to the hem of his pants and you bit your lip, not knowing if he will comply and help you take his sweatpants off, but as you tugged, you saw him raise his hips up and in a quick move you pulled both of the pants and boxers down, letting them pool around his ankles.
His dick sprung up, hitting on his stomach with a smack. You bit your lip as you scooted closer, your nails scratching onto his thighs as they moved up and up. He was still sitting straight as he typed away on his computer, but you didn’t care any longer. You just needed him in your mouth.
You leaned forward in order to spit right at the pink tip and then your hand ran all over it to gather your saliva, and use it as lubricant as you started pumping him, slowly, up and down, causing his dick to twitch in your hand as it became fully hard in your grip. A smile appeared on your lips as you heard the typing stop for a second and then resumed as if he had never stopped.
You then guided your mouth close to the tip, running your tongue all over the slit, and then you did the one thing that makes him crazy, which is licking on his frenulum, right under the head. You flicked on it going from side to side in a fast motion. You heard a growl above you, and you smirked as you finally took him into your mouth.
You used your hand in order to help yourself as you started bobbing your head up and down on him, slowly, at your own pace in order to taste him as you liked. The hint of saltiness started and you knew that he was starting to leak precum as you kept moving, your other hand grabbing onto his thigh for leverage.
You pulled him out of your mouth so you could press soft kisses along the shaft, to then lick from the bottom and up, giving a kiss to the head and then gliding your tongue onto the slit, giving a soft press there. You took him back into your mouth as you started becoming wetter at each bob of your head.
And then you heard it. Or well, you didn’t hear it anymore. The typing had stopped, and then a slam happened, making you pull away from him, hand still wrapped around his dick as you sat there, waiting for whatever was happening. He sat back on his chair and looked down at you underneath the desk.
You shivered as you looked up at your husband who had a frown in his eyebrows and his jaw was completely clenched, going slightly to the side that displayed his anger. His hand immediately went to the back of your head, grasping tightly onto the hair there, making you wince as he pulled your face towards his dick again, smashing it against your cheek.
“You want to be a slut? Fine. Put my cock back into your fucking mouth.” 
You whined as you complied, opening your mouth to take him in again, but you couldn’t even  wrap your hand around him to help you as you felt him guide your head down on him. He was being rough, and it almost hit the back of your throat, but he pulled on your hair to bring you back up again, only to make you plunge you back down again.
Your hands gripped onto his thighs as his other hand went to untie the tie that was on his neck. Just like everyone that works remotely does, he dresses nicely on his upper body, and then comfortably on his bottoms for the online meetings where his camera has to be on. He slid the black tie off and threw it on the desk as he kept bobbing your head up and down on him.
“You couldn’t fucking wait for a few more minutes.” You hummed against his cock as he put both of his hands now on each side of your head. “Through your nose.”
And you knew what this meant, so you started taking in air through your nose and that’s when he shoved your head down as he pushed his hips up at the same time, making him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes become teary as your face flushed, a gurgle of saliva vibrating in your throat as he pulled you back up and put his hips down, only to repeat the previous action again.
You were gagging on his cock as he throat fucked you intensely, feeling the walls of it already bruising from how rough he was being with you as he gripped onto your head, his fingers clenching on your hair. Your nails were digging into his thighs as you kept yourself on your knees.
“Look at those fucking tears.” You heard him chuckle in between his groans as his hips kept thrusting up into your mouth. “You wanted my cock, so you are going to take it how I like it.”
Said tears were running down your face like a waterfall from the intensity of it all, feeling your throat becoming sore and the gags were already making your stomach turn a little bit. You gave him a tap on his thigh and he took notice of that, stopping his movements all together, and pulling your head up.
You took a sharp intake of breath with a gasp. Saliva mixed with precum was sliding down from the corner of your lips as you huffed for air. His face came close to yours, and he didn’t even look fazed by what he had done to you. 
“Color?” And behind the roughness, your husband was still there. The sweet husband that always took care of you first beyond everything else. You gulped in order to get saliva in your throat once more, letting you talk clearly.
“G-Green…” 
He stood up abruptly from the chair, making it fall back behind him and he raised you up on your two feet by the hair. You yelped in pain but before you could continue with a whine, his lips clashed against yours. You moaned against the kiss and you wanted to wrap your arms around him, but you knew better than that, so you kept them dangling on your sides. 
His tongue invaded your mouth without permission, making you whine in need and then you felt his hand rip open your silk robe, shoving it away from your body with his big hands. The chill air hitting your breasts, perking the nipples up instantly, hardening the bud. One of his hands immediately cupped one of your tits, and pinched onto the nipple, harshly.
You yelped onto his tongue and he chuckled as he moved his hand downwards while the other gripped onto your ass, pulling you closer. Your body was on fire as his fingers instantly found your clit, slowly moving them in circled motions and then went down in between your folds. He pulled away from you, finally letting you moan out into the room.
“So wet for me. Did sucking my dick turn you on this much?” You could only nod at him and then your eyes widened when he landed a slap against your clit, causing you to whimper. “Answer me.”
“Y-Yes–” You could only gasp as you felt two fingers plunging inside of you in one motion, and your hands shot up in order to hold onto his shoulders as you moaned out a cry at the sudden stretch.
“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” You nodded at his words as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and you moved your hips against them, trying to follow his rhythm. He was guiding you with the hand that was on your ass, pushing you further into him at each thrust.
“S-Steve, baby– Please–” You begged. You needed him inside of you, right this second. His fingers are not doing justice to what he could do to you. He growled, biting back a come back, but he was already frustrated himself, and he wanted to cum. He desperately needed to cum.
He pulled his fingers out of you, making you sigh from disappointment only to be manhandled into turning around, and then he pushed your upper back onto the table, bending you completely with your ass in the air. He grabbed onto the tie he left on the desk before.
“Arms behind.” You were breathing a little bit heavy as you complied to his wishes, putting your arms behind your back. He tied your forearms together, and you knew that your shoulders were going to be sore tomorrow, but it was going to be so worth it. “What do you need?”
“Hngh–” You wiggled your ass towards him, but the only thing that earned you was a loud smack onto one of your cheeks, making you whine.
“You acted like a fucking brat to get it. Have the decency to tell me what it is and I will give it to you.”
“I– I need your cock Stevie, please– Please, I need it…” And he didn’t need any more indulgence. He grabbed onto both your plump cheeks that were wiggling at him and he spread them open. He smirked at your puckered hole, and it was a shame he didn’t prep you for that tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
He lined his cock up towards your wet pussy, sliding against your clit a few times, making you moan in need, and then with no warning, he pushed inside of you, and your eyes widened when he didn’t take his time to let you adjust. He just kept going, knocking the air out of your mouth as the side of your head rested against the desk.
“So fucking tight…” He groaned out. “Even after all these years you’re still so tight for me baby…”
“Steve–” Your words were cut short when in one sharp thrust he pushed forward, completely seething himself inside of you, and your mouth fell into a wide ‘o’ shape as your eyebrows frowned at the friction of it all. It was too much, but it felt so good. It always feels so good.
He got hold of your tied forearms, and just like a cowboy would ride his horse and your arms were his reins. He straightened up, his other free hand dangling on his side, looking down at you, with his glasses still on. The reflection of your ass was the one that was over the crystals, and he smirked as he pulled his hips back, and then pushed forward again, and pulled on your arms to bring you to him.
You let out a loud moan and cry of his name, feeling him hit onto your spongy part that resided inside of you, but then went deeper than that. Your husband has always been on the bigger side, and feeling him splitting you like this only added fuel to the fire that was inside of you.
He started a brutal pace, skin slapping constantly as his balls hit against your clit, his hips against your ass that jiggled at each movement. He was trying to hold in the groans in his throat as he slapped one of your ass cheeks with his free hand while the other kept pulling you to him.
“Baby, did you come here for another reason?” You heard him ask, but your mind was still gone as he kept pistoning his hips against you, earning another loud smack on your ass that will probably leave a bruise, making you cry and snapping you back into reality. “Is it because it’s the perfect time? It is, isn't it?”
“Y-Yes! God–” You had come with two missions today, and one of them was being fulfilled, the other will soon happen.
“You came for me to fill you up? Have you all full of my cum so it takes?” He moaned as he felt your walls clench around him at his words. You nodded against the desk as tears rolled down and hit the wood under your face. You were going to cum without him touching you at all, just from his dick hitting your g-spot repeatedly.
“Yes, yes, please, Steve– Make me pregnant, fill me up–” He groaned behind you as his thrusts became harder, the slapping of skin even louder than before and you could hear grunts coming out of his throat as you whimpered his name many times, your walls clenching each second that passed.
“I can’t fucking wait to see your belly all round with my baby, fuck– sweetheart I can’t fucking wait…” That was enough for you to cum around him, letting out a loud yell of his name, legs trembling as his pace stopped for a second because you were clenching too hard all around him. “Fuck– Sweetheart–”
He winced at the friction of your cunt around him, and when he felt you start to relax, just slightly, he took a deep breath in and started his pace again, not letting you come down from your orgasm, wanting to drive you straight to another one thanks to overstimulation. 
“St–Steve, baby, stop–” But it wasn’t a true plea. You knew it wasn’t something you actually wanted, and he knew it too, so that’s why he didn’t stop at all. He smacked your ass once and he felt himself twitch inside of you, making him groan loudly.
“I’m gonna fill you up– You’re going to be so full.” He groaned when his glasses started to fog thanks to his jagged breaths, and he took them off to throw them onto the desk, beads of sweat coming down his forehead. You were choking on your moans as you tried to move your strained arms again, when you felt your walls start clenching, and you felt like you were dying from how hard your orgasm was going to be.
“S-Steve– Steve!” You couldn’t warn him fast enough that you were cumming onto his cock again, right after the last one you had because he didn’t let you rest from it. This time, your g-spot was so overstimulated that it made your juices gush out on him, drenching your legs and his. 
“F-Fuck, shit!” He was too overwhelmed with the view that he pushed you onto his cock as he thrusted deep inside of you, and he let out a loud moan as the ropes of his white spent filled your walls. You whimpered through a moan as you felt the warmth invade your insides.
You two were left panting in the room, trying to get your breathing back to normal. He was the first to regain his composure again as he untied the tie around your arms, and thanks to feeling the relief from being able to move them again, you snapped back into reality. You took a sharp intake of breath as you blinked and pressed your hands against the desk in order to pull yourself up. 
Your legs were shaking and you didn’t have time to recover yourself that he was turning you around to sit you on the desk. 
“What–?” You managed to breathe out for a second before you felt his fingers gather your juices and his cum that was already dripping out of your cunt, and plunging them inside like a plug. You let out a whimper at the sensation and he leaned forward to press a kiss on one of your stained cheeks.
“I know baby… I know…” He didn’t move his fingers, he just kept them there. “I’ll prepare dinner tonight, you just lay down on the couch, okay?” 
Your lovely husband was back, the rough demeanor already gone and you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. Steve and you had been trying for the past few months, and today was another month you were going to try and you were ovulating. 
“God, I hope it takes…” You sighed out dreamily and he nodded at that, wanting nothing more for you two to finally become parents. He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead and then sent a smile your way.
“I hope so too. Also, way to rile me up.” You giggled at him as he wiped your cheeks lovingly with his free hand. 
“Maybe we just needed to do it roughly…” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he tsked at you with his tongue, lightly slapping the side of your thigh, making you chuckle. 
“There’s no way that the way we have sex influences it.”
To Steve’s surprise, it does, because a month later your pregnancy test came out positive.
God bless working from home. 
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A/N: I never wrote a just steve fic before, so here it is, welcome to my dirty thoughts
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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months
Note
HEYEYYH, How about a Jason with a girlfriend who does massages? But somehow his girl's hands ended up on his thigh muscles, which we all know how that ended *cofcofthecofreadercofprobablycofendedcofupcofdoggycofstylecofoncofthecofcouchcofcof* 🫠
(Unfortunately I'm mexican and I know how to give massages so the idea just came up while I was working JAJAJAKS)
— 🐏
I'm back! I did it! It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy 😊!
The massage
Giving boyfriend Jason a massage when his leg is feeling sore.
Warnings: explicit description of sex including blowjob (m receiving) and penetration (p in v).
     X slid her gaze over to her boyfriend as he made his way to the sofa. He tried to hide it, but she noticed the way he favoured his right leg as he walked, his steps uneven because of whatever injury he might have picked up on his mission earlier that day. He sank onto the sofa beside her, a sigh of relief escaping his lips once he was off his feet. 
     “Jay?” X asked, placing a hand on his thigh. “What happened to your leg?” 
     “Ah, nothing,” he reassured her, shifting position to get himself more comfortable. “It's just a little sore. I'll be fine.” 
     “I’ll massage it for you,” X decided, getting up and gesturing for him to lay down. “Lie down.”
Jason hesitated, still unused to communicating his needs across to her - across to anyone, really, never mind that they’d already been dating for six months. But she never pushed him about it - she’d always been patient with him for as long as they’d known each other, and that was probably why he’d eventually fallen in love with her. Jason pulled his legs up onto the sofa and lay back, settling himself against the cushions as he waited. X grinned and took a seat at the other end, then began gently rubbing his feet. 
     “How was your day?” Jason asked, relaxing at the feeling of her fingers gently coaxing the tension from his muscles. He liked hearing about her work - about the everyday drama that most people would experience throughout their lifetime. Most people aside from him. But at least he got to experience it through her, his clever and sweet girlfriend. She shrugged.
     “It was okay. Not much happened today. Oh!” Her eyes lit up as she remembered some gossip she must have forgotten about. She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice as if someone might overhear them and his chest warmed at the familiar look of delight on her face.
     “The old intern was telling me that that one scary boss lady wants to hold a meeting for the new interns to teach them ‘proper work etiquette’,” she revealed to him, pausing to give him a shocked look. “Isn't that so embarrassing?! She said that, apparently, a lot of people have complained about them already.” X winced at the idea, then spread Jason's legs apart so she could settle herself between them. 
     “What did they do wrong?” Jason asked, curious now to find out more. X shrugged. 
     “I don't know.” She pursed her lips to think about it, her hands ceasing their movements for a moment. “They're a little loud. And I feel like they gossip a lot.” 
     “About who?” 
     “Mostly people at their school.” She resumed her massage, her hands landing on his thighs now. “Do you want to talk about your day?” He didn't always like going through it - whatever horror he might have had to face that day - so she’d always ask him first, then distract him with stories about her work if he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. It calmed him down sometimes, knowing that there were other people out there who just continued to mill about their days, even when his felt like it was falling apart. He shook his head, but maintained a relaxed expression, not wanting her to get too worried. 
     “I just helped Dick out with some of Penguin’s goons. Nothing much, just tired.” He knew how much she’d worry about him when he was on a mission, though she’d always try to hide it behind a calm exterior when they were together. She cared about him so much, his sweet little girlfriend, and he always made sure he did his best to reciprocate her efforts. He'd never been very good at expressing his feelings, but he always pushed himself to do better when it came to her: he loved her, after all, and he never wanted her to question that fact.
     “Hmm.” X pushed herself to her knees, her hands moving dangerously close to his centre as she continued to massage the insides of his thighs. “Any plans for tomorrow?” 
     Jason shook his head, trying to ignore the way his core was starting to tighten as she rubbed her thumbs along the joint between his pelvis and his thighs. “No. Anything you want to do? We can go on a date if you're free?” 
     X grinned at the thought. Jason was a lot more romantic than most people would have expected, always planning little surprises for her and gifting her whatever new item she'd been obsessing over for the past week. But she loved just getting to spend time with him; to see the peace grace his rugged features as they went on a picnic or caught a movie or strolled through the park beneath the stars. She inched her hands closer to his centre, delighting in the sight of the rapidly growing tent in his sweatpants. 
     “Hmm, what should I do with my super hot boyfriend tomorrow?” X wondered aloud, feigning a look of innocence as she looked up at him. “Should we go ice skating?” F*ck, she was driving him crazy! The way she fluttered her eyelashes up at him as she continued to massage his erogenous zones? Jason shifted in position, his body starting to get more excited as she continued to run her fingers all over him. 
     “Uh, wouldn't it be too crowded?” he pointed out, pushing himself a little higher up the sofa so her hands fell back down his thighs. It was a weekend, after all - people would probably bring their kids there and then dump them for a few hours while they went and ran their errands. X shuffled forward, her wicked gaze fixed on his centre as she slid her hands back up his thighs. 
     “Hmm, you're probably right. Should we go for a movie then?” She licked her lips as she snuck her hands beneath his shirt and ran them across his hard abdomen. Then she tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down slightly so that her fingers were tantalising close to his d*ck. 
     “X.” Jason placed a hand over hers, intending to stop her, but he ended up just following her movements as she continued to tease him. 
     “Hmm. Jay?” X sat back finally, her hands resting on the tops of his thighs as she looked up at him. “Do you want me to rub some oil on you or something? Just to warm you up a bit?” 
     Shit. He knew exactly what she was really asking him - exactly what she was planning on doing to him - with that mischievous glint in her eyes as she waited for his response. He swallowed hard, but found himself nodding in agreement to all the dirty thoughts flitting over her sweet face. X grinned and shot out of her seat immediately, rushing over to her room to get the massage oil. Jason sighed at her excitement and covered his face with his hands, already regretting his decision. 
     “I'm back!” X sang as she jumped onto the sofa and started tugging his pants down. Jason chuckled nervously as he pushed himself off of his seat, his body already tightening in response to her eagerness. 
     “Slow down, sweetheart,” he told her gently, lowering himself back down once she'd ripped his pants off and tossed them aside. He watched as she poured some oil onto her palms and rubbed them together before returning her hands to his thighs. And then he was gripping on the edge of the sofa, doing his best to control himself as she slid her hands along the sides of his c*ck. F*ck, she was driving him crazy. 
     “X.” X snickered at the tightness in Jason’s voice - at the obvious arousal he was trying so hard to hide from her. She rubbed her thumbs along the insides of his thighs, careful to keep her distance from the one part of him that was throbbing for her touch. 
     “What?” she asked him, her voice dripping with exaggerated innocence. “I’m slowing down, Jace.” Jason sighed at her response and let his head fall back against the cushions. She loved to tease him like this - to play dumb when she was probably the smartest person he knew - just because she loved how frustrated he’d get by it, his thick brows drawing together, his wide lips twisting down at the ends, his teeth gritting together to accentuate his sharp jawline. She went crazy for it. And he went crazy because of it. 
     God, he looked so hot, his body tightening in response to her teasing, his jaw clenching in frustration at her fake naivete. She keep her eyes fixed on his face as she finally ran her hands over his c*ck, watching with delight as he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. 
     “F*ck,” he breathed, his muscles clenching at the feeling of her sliding her hands all over his c*ck. Shit, she was good, her tender touch easing all the tension that had built up in his body. He’d completely forgotten about his sore leg as she’d played with his c*ck, the pleasure of having her fingers running along his shaft casting all other thoughts out of his mind. X curled her fingers around him, fisting his c*ck tightly, and swiped her thumb across his slit, causing his back to arch off the sofa in response. “X …” 
     He was so hot, her boyfriend, and it thrilled to know that she could get him so aroused: his mossy eyes darkening with lust every time he looked at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as she pumped his c*ck in her fist, his teeth sinking into his lower lip whenever she gave him a tight squeeze. And the sounds he’d make?! Holy shit, the satisfied groans and rumbles and the awestruck curses that would fall from his mouth as she teased and pleasured him?!
     “Jay?” Jason looked up at her, his expression dazed as he grunted in question. X grinned and leaned over him, tilting her head so that her hair brushed along the side of his neck. “Do you mind if I take my clothes off, baby? They’re getting a little oily.” 
     She gave him a little pout and Jason felt his c*ck twitch at the sight of her. F*ck, she was cute. His eyes fell to her body, to her delicious curves concealed by her pyjamas, and he licked his lips in anticipation. “Take them off, sweetheart.” 
     X felt a shiver run down her spine at the huskiness in his tone; the pure desire drenching his voice as he looked at her. She grinned and sat back to start taking her clothes off, and Jason ripped his shirt off as well before sinking back into his seat. He watched with delight as his beautiful girlfriend exposed herself to him, her messy hair spilling over her shoulders and brushing over her full breasts. He muttered a curse as she climbed on top of him, her p*ssy already dripping as she settled herself over his d*ck. Then she glided her hands up his torso and continued with her ‘massage’, her fingers kneading his shoulders as her breasts pressed into his chest, her lips centimetres from his. Jason slid his hands around her waist and sucked in a breath when she ground her hips into his, her soft little p*ssy rubbing against his c*ck. F*ck, she was gorgeous, her tumbling curls, her long eyelashes, her rosy lips. 
     “Mmm, f*ck,” he groaned as he ran his hands all over her body, his movements easy thanks to the slippery oil that had transferred to her skin. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he moved his hands to cup her breasts, and he heard a soft gasp escape from her lips when he began circling her nipples with his thumbs. 
     “J-Jason,” she stammered, her p*ssy throbbing pleadingly as he began moving his hips against hers. “I'm … supposed to be … giving you … the massage.” 
     “I know, baby,” Jason reassured her, his hands kneading her breasts gently. “And you're doing such a good job. Such a good massage, baby, such a … F*ck!” His back arched off the sofa as she wriggled on top of him, squirming at the feeling of his fingers closing around her sensitive flesh. And then he was lifting her off of him and flipping her over, so that she was on her hands and knees in front of him, her legs spread apart and ready for him to enter. 
     X twisted her head back to look at him in question, confused by the sudden switch in position. But then his c*ck was inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up and all she could do was flop over onto the sofa and sigh with relief. 
     “Shit, baby,” she heard Jason murmur behind her as he grabbed onto her thighs. “Gonna … Gonna f*ck you so hard. Gonna reward this … pretty little p*ssy of yours … with a nice massage too.” She let out a whimper as he began thrusting his hips against hers, his c*ck sliding in and out of her at a torturously slow pace. God, he was so hard already, she didn't know how he could possibly control himself. 
     “Jason,” she whined, tearing up with frustration at the way he held her back from her orgasm. 
     “I know, baby, I know, just …” He sped up his thrusts a little, his c*ck pumping in and out of her easily, slick with a mixture of her cum and the oil she'd spread all over him. He rolled his hips around, causing his bulk to brush up against all her walls, and she groaned at the feeling of his tip prodding at that one spot inside of her. Shit, he felt good. 
     Jason chuckled at the way his sweet little girlfriend's eyes rolled back in her head as he pleasured her with his c*ck, the moans and whimpers falling from her lips driving him crazy. She was so f*cking gorgeous, her slender fingers gripping onto the cushions, her soft breasts bouncing against the sofa as he drove himself repeatedly into her. And f*ck, her p*ssy? Her tight little p*ssy that welcomed him in so nicely, her warm and wet walls clinging to him desperately and begging him not to let go. F*ck, she felt good. “You like that, sweetheart? You like the way my c*ck is 'massaging' that tight little p*ssy of yours?” 
     X gave a loud moan in response, no longer able to form words, and Jason sped up his movements, his fingers digging into her ass to keep her in place. He felt so good, his thick c*ck stretching out her walls, his hard abs brushing against her ass, his balls pounding against her clit and teasing her to no end. She tightened her grip on the pillow she'd been clutching, her core tightening around his d*ck. Then she came, her body writhing helplessly as she pulsed hard around his c*ck. Jason slowed his movements, his hips stuttering at the feeling of her p*ssy squeezing his d*ck so desperately. Then he fell over the edge too, his warm c*m filling up her cervix as he relieved himself inside of her. 
     They stayed like that for a while after, the both of them panting heavily as they tried to catch their breaths. Then Jason pulled himself out of her, his hands keeping her in place so he could watch him c*m leak back out of her. 
     “Jason,” X breathed, pushing herself to her hands and twisting around to look at him. His eyes were still fixed on his centre, his expression delighted as he watch his c*m dripping from her p*ssy. X let out a soft snicker and turned around to face her boyfriend, sitting back on her knees and gathering her hair behind her shoulders. He was so cute when he was all dazed with lust, his eyes unfocused as he lifted them to her face. She shuffled forward and cupped his cheek in her hand, then leaned towards him to press a quick kiss to his lips. “How's your leg feeling, Jay?” 
     Jason grinned at her, his lips stretched into a stupidly wide smile. “It's feeling better than before, but I think I'm going to need another massage tomorrow night.” 
     “Oh, really?” X raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward again to press another sweet kiss to his lips. “Then I guess I’d better get more oil.”
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angelrari · 7 months
Text
gossip girl · pt. ii
based on the tv series gossip girl
max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader
fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)
a/n: hi! thank you so much for the comments and the love gave to the first part. i am so excited about this!! i hope you like this part a lot!
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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.
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the event was extravagant. the guests were all notable people, from celebrities to businessmen, and the tables were perfectly decorated, filled with the finest wines and delicious food prepared by the best catering in town. it definitely was a party to remember, that would be talked about for years and it would solidify jolie's reputation.
"hi, sweetie". you heard a familiar voice say behind you and quickly you turned around.
"oh, hey mom. you look gorgeous". she smiled at the compliment and grabbed the hem of her dress to show off, which made you smile back to her. "where is it from?".
"chanel. it hasn't been the same since karl passed away, but virginie viard does things right, sometimes". she showed her disappointment with a wry face. "you also look fantastic, sweetie".
"thank you, mom". you took a sip of champagne. "where's dad, by the way?".
"oh, he's talking to the red bull kid. what was his name? martin? marcus?".
"max, mom".
"exactly, him. your father decided to invest in red bull a few years ago, after charles and you broke up, and it seems like the kid made him win a lot of money". she explained. "you know, your father doesn't know how to have fun without involving business in it".
"i guess somethings never change". you said and she nodded in agreement.
"look at them". your mother said and discreetly signaled with her gaze. jolie and arthur were dancing together, looking like they were having the time of their lives. "they remind me of-".
"charles and i". you interrupted. "i do feel that way too, but jolie keeps saying they are just friends".
"your sister is ambitious, maybe a little too much, and she won't settle for a formula 2 driver".
"i know". you sighed. "maybe i have to remind her i started dating charles when he was in formula 2".
"please, do. i'd love to have a leclerc in my family and now that you won't-".
"mom!". you interjected and she laughed in response.
"they are nice kids! and their mother is a wonderful person". she added and you rolled your eyes at her words. "anyway, you should go and talk to charles, he asked me about you earlier".
"let me get drunk first, maybe that way it will be less awkward".
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the autumn wind made your cheeks turn red and your hands cold. you were at the rooftop of the casino, where only a few people were. you were exhausted from avoiding charles and léa. somehow seeing them together made your stomach turn. what if they already felt this way when charles and you were dating? were there signs? did you miss them?
"y/n". you heard someone say and jumped at the sound of their voice. you turned around to face them, with both of your hands on your chest, feeling the heartbeat increase rapidly.
"oh, god". you breathed out, embarrassed by your reaction. "you scared me, max".
"sorry, i didn't mean to". he quickly apologized, smiling back at you.
"don't worry". you said. "how have you been? it's been a long time since i last saw you".
"eveything's good, yeah. i've been working a lot, but that's not exactly new, and things have been working well for me so far". the dutchman explained. "how about you? your father told me you were studying at harvard?"
"yeah, i just finished a master in business administration there and i came back a couple of days ago. i rushed it a bit to be able to attend to jolie's birthday today".
"and how come you're here?".
"to be honest, i kind of wanted to avoid some people". you answered and he laughed.
"right, charles and léa".
"i didn't name anybody!". you quickly replied and he chuckled.
you stared at the sea, feeling max join beside you. a cold wind breeze made you shiver and you moved your hands up and down your arms to warm your body up. max, who had noticed, took off his black blazer.
"here, take this".
"oh, no, you're gonna be cold and-".
"please". he pleaded and you nodded. he placed the black blazer and your shoulders and you smiled sincerely.
"thank you, max".
"it's nothing". he said and looked ahead of him. "i'm trying to get away from your dad and his friends". he confessed.
"i feel you, they just don't know when to stop. my mom has been also chasing me, telling me to go talk to charles and, please don't tell him, but that's the last thing i want to do".
"don't worry, i understand. it mustn't be easy to see your ex and the girl who used to be your best friend together".
"it's not". you agreed. "it's just- many things come back, you know? i do wish them the best and i hope their relationship lasts, but somehow it makes me question so many things. i keep thinking when did all of this start and if they liked each other when charles and i-. fuck, sorry, i'm drunk and i'm talking too much".
"it's okay". he reassured. "i know you probably don't like the advice i'm about to give you, but i think you should talk to them".
"i know, but léa hates me for leaving and i don't wanna mess things up between charles and i more. jolie and arthur are such good friends and i am scared of the consequences. i just- i don't want to start a war".
"you know this way you will never find peace, right?". he asked and you nodded. "you're gonna see them often. that's the downside of monaco. you're gonna attend the same events and you're gonna hang out with the same people". he turned around and his blue eyes starred directly at yours. "there's just no way to avoid this".
"i know, but i'd rather not do this tonight". you confessed. "thank you, max".
"what for?".
"for all of this. you probably have better things to do and here you are listening to my problems".
"well, you're helping me hide from your father, so i think that makes us even". he joked and you couldn't help but chuckle.
"i will keep your secret too".
"please, do". he begged. you starred at the moon, but he starred at you. "what are you thinking?".
"about how to leave this party without my parents noticing".
"well, i've got an idea". he said. "follow me".
max put out his hand to you and you took it. you followed him to the elevator and when you reached the first floor, where the party was taking place, he slyly guided you to a back door you didn't know it existed.
"you know, most times, when we come to the casino, we enter through this door". he explained. "people who don't want to be seen use this".
"right".
max quietly opened the door, praying nobody would be outside, but unluckily your dad and his friends were smoking near the exit. you looked at max, who starred back at you worried, grabbed his hand and started running so your father wouldn't stop you.
"y/n!". your father exclaimed.
"sorry dad! see you!". you said still running to max's car.
max took out his car keys and opened the door of his porsche for you. you sat on the front passenger seat and, a few seconds later, he joined you, sitting on the driver's seat.
"i swear the adrenaline rush i've got it's better than when i race". he said chuckling and afterwards he started the engine of the car.
the city lights let you appreciate the ocean blue in his eyes. max focused on the road ahead, but his smile didn't fade. he was attractive. hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the road, you could sense the confidence on his driving and somehow you felt safe.
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marlynnofmany · 1 month
Text
Accidental Training
The animal cargo of the day was large and honking, but it seemed well-mannered enough. Picture a sea lion with tiny scales instead of fur, dark gray on top and speckled pale underneath. Bobbing its head in curiosity at the cargo bay and the people in it. The squid-shaped clients maneuvering the cage into place didn’t rate a second look, but they were probably familiar and boring.
Captain Sunlight, with her lemon-yellow scales and dignified lizardperson demeanor, got a lot of attention. She ignored the honks as she finished business with the clients.
Then I stepped up to see what kind of creature I’d be in charge of for this trip, and it exploded in excitement like a 500-pound puppy, dancing in place on its flippers and honking up a storm.
One of the clients said, “It does that sometimes. Have a good flight,” then waved a tentacle and left.
Captain Sunlight squinted at the cage like she would have liked to cover her earholes but wanted to put on a strong front. Instead she looked up at me and said, “Good thing this is a short journey. It seems to like you, though.”
“I see that,” I said, waggling my fingers at it, which just made it honk louder. “Did they tell us a name for it?”
She consulted the information on her tablet while the excitable creature continued to hop around. “Looks like his name is Freckles.”
“That’s adorable,” I said. “Hi, Freckles! Are you a good boy? Yes? Are you so excited that you could break a weaker travel cage than this? Yes you are!” I pressed my hands to my knees in classic talking-to-puppy fashion, which did nothing for the noise levels in the room.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Captain Sunlight told me. “The hover setting for the cage is turned off; it’s clamped in place; the food and supplies are here; we’ll take off shortly.”
“Got it,” I said with a wave as she left. There was a chance that Freckles would calm down if I left too, but he seemed equally likely to make lonely wails if left alone, and anyways this was the reason I’d been hired in the first place. Nobody else on the courier ship knew the first thing about animals. “All right, Freckles, are you ready to travel through space? Is that new for you? You look like you’re in good shape. Let’s aim for no medical emergencies on this trip.”
Freckles honked once, which I took for a yes. He bobbed up and down like a dog inviting another to play.
I copied the move, and he did it again. I lifted one foot, and he did the same, honking happily.
“Good boy! I’ll bet you make your people proud by holding still for tooth-brushing, don’t you? Lemme see your teeth. Ahhh.” I opened my mouth as an example.
With a similar noise, the clever animal copied the motion. His teeth looked clean enough, with none discolored or missing, and he even stuck his tongue out for a good look when prompted. I found a nearly-empty container of treats among the supplies, and rewarded him for good behavior.
“Good job. What else should we check? Can you show me your flipper? And turn like this? Very good. And like that?”
He could and did, visibly happy with the praise and treats. He was a little calmer now that there was something specific to do.
The engines started up with a quiet rumble, which caused him a moment of anxiety, but he was happily distracted when I started echoing his honks back at him.
If this had been an inanimate cargo, I would have left the cargo bay already, but I had nothing more important to do. My job today was to keep an eye on this guy. So I prompted him to do more beneficial tricks, then when the treats ran out, I decided the container made a fine toy.
“Hey look, a hat,” I told him as I put the lid on my head. The container was a mostly-round thing that twisted apart into two equal halves. That meant Freckles got a hat too. And he was so happy about it when I stuck it between the bars.
Only one coworker walked past the door while I was entertaining the cargo: Mur the Strongarm, who looked much like the people who’d brought Freckles onboard. Mur paused, saying nothing. Freckles ignored him, dancing from side to side while wearing his jaunty new hat.
I held my own pose, one foot in the air, arms spread. “Yes?”
“Nothing,” Mur said. “Nothing at all.” He continued on his way.
“You’re welcome to join us!” I called after him.
“No thanks. I’m good.”
The short trip was pretty fun. Freckles was particularly taken by the discovery that his honks echoed when the container covered his snout. He could even balance it on his flipper like a hand, taking it on and off to test the difference in sounds. When I did the same and then gave him another treat from a fresh container, he pranced in place and slapped his flippers together.
As it turned out, he was good at repeating patterns too. We did some clapping games of the sort that human toddlers love, then I found a ball among the supplies and we were all set for the rest of the trip. It was even the squishy kind that glorped between the bars instead of bouncing off, which was perfect. We played an entertaining game of catch until the engine noises changed into landing sounds.
I was honestly surprised the trip was over. The captain came back in to meet the clients who were here for pickup, and I made sure to pack away everything into the supplies. Freckles made a sad honk when I took the container back, but I gave him one last treat, and that made up for it.
These two clients looked much like the last, though one was carrying a bag from the shopping trip they’d done on the way here. They were also more talkative than the other ones.
“…Had to stop by the battery shop for three different kinds of chargers, then the feed store for more of the special diet that our oldest animal takes, and there was so much traffic!” The one typing information into the payment screen didn’t stop for breath, waving several tentacles as she talked.
“I’m just glad there was a mask attachment of the right size in stock,” said the one with the bag. “Getting Freckles his air vitamins is going to be hard enough as it is.” He pulled something from the bag: a long tube with a concave shape at one end. “What do you think, Freckles? Can this be easy for once?”
Freckles honked, which could have meant anything.
I looked at the mask. “What does he usually do when you have to give him air vitamins?”
The Strongarm sighed like a deflating balloon. “He just doesn’t want it anywhere near his face. He seems to think it’s a game to avoid it, which is fun for him but incredibly tiresome for everyone else.”
“Have you tried making it a different game?” I asked, starting to smile.
“Like what?”
“Can I see that for a moment?” When he passed it over, I got the container of treats and rattled it for Freckles’ attention, then took a position in front of the cage. I held the mask in front of my own face. “Hey Freckles. Honk honk.”
He of course honked happily and shoved his nose through the bars, eager for his turn. I settled it against his snout — perfect fit — and he honked away. I pulled the mask back and gave him a treat, then turned to beam at the clients.
“What! He’s never done that!” said the one.
“How did you train him to do that?” demanded the other.
“Honestly, I wasn’t trying to,” I admitted. “But he’s very smart. He seems to like copying motions, and he’s definitely food-motivated.”
“Oh yes, those are the good treats,” said the client with the bag. “The new kind that my cousin’s book club host recommended.”
I handed back the mask. “Then you might keep these in reserve for important things, like rewarding him for taking his air vitamins. Though given how much he’s enjoying the new game, you might not even need to.”
The clients were overjoyed. They thanked me, thanked Captain Sunlight, and showered Freckles with praise as they unclamped the cage and started up its hover function. We helped them down the ramp, then they waved off any further assistance on the way to a flatbed skimmer with a loading arm. The guy with the bag of shopping struggled just a bit managing all the supplies too, but neither Captain Sunlight nor I were about to insult a Strongarm by suggesting they needed help carrying something. So we just waved our goodbyes and made sure they got everything loaded onto the skimmer before we closed the cargo bay door.
“Bye, Freckles!” I called as it closed. I heard one last honk, which I decided sounded excited about the skimmer ride to come.
“Well,” said Captain Sunlight. “That was fortunate. Good job.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think they’ll all enjoy the vitamin process more now, especially Freckles.”
We walked through the empty cargo bay to the hall, where Paint met us, with confusion on her scaly orange face and a jar lid in her hands.
“Mur said to give this to you?” she said, holding it out to me.
I laughed. “Mur thinks he’s very funny.” I dutifully set it on my head. “Yes, the height of fashion. But I think it would look better on him. You can tell him I said so.”
“Okay,” Paint said, taking the lid back. “Why?”
Captain Sunlight huffed a laugh and headed off to the cockpit while I began the explanation of how I’d spent the recent flight.
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!
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