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itsallyscorner · 9 days

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At Fault | MV1

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Max invites his ex to a gp and upsets you. Soft and stubborn Max, but he’s a cutie. A mix between angst and fluff, but mostly fluff towards the end. Lots of reader just ranting. Plus a little cameo from the Ferrari WAGs <3.

warnings: Does Kelly count as a warning? Kinda of toxic, I’m not really sure? But who actually likes seeing their boyfriend’s ex girlfriend??

author’s note: Italics are flashbacks! This turned out longer than expected, but I hope you guys like it! It’s also been a while since I’ve written fics, so it there are any errors pls ignore them😭

The tension in the car was thick. So thick, Max believed he could cut it with a knife.

Your arms were crossed as you stared out the window while Max glanced at you wearily every other second. Thankfully, there were only three of you in the car. You and Max in the backseat, and the driver in front being separated by a divider. Though, Max was sure the driver was able to hear the current disagreement between you and him.

Max fidgeted with the lanyard of his paddock pass and stared at the side of your face. He knew he had upset you and honestly you had every right to be. You were biting the inside of your cheek in frustration trying to keep your emotions at bay. As much as you wanted to argue with Max about how you disagreed with his actions, he was due to race in a couple of hours and you didn’t want to add any more stress on his shoulders.

But Max wanted to talk about this now while you were both alone.

“Schatje, are you really mad?” Max asked quietly, leaning closer to you and trying to get you to face him. He truly didn’t mean to dampen your mood before the race. Most importantly, he didn’t like that he was the reason for you being upset. Your brows furrowed ever so slightly and a faint pout was on your lips, both indications that you were in fact not happy with him.

“Yes, Max, I am mad.” You answered, your voice trembling a bit. You had finally turned away from the window and were looking at him. Max felt a pang of guilt in his heart once he saw the look in your eyes. They weren’t glaring at him with the heat of anger, but they were soft and glossy, you were hurt—he hurt you.

Max cautiously reached out for your hand and tangled your fingers together, though your hand felt limp, like you didn’t want to hold his hand at all.

“I told you the truth.” Max said, leaning his head down trying to catch your eyes again. You took in a deep breath before turning to fully face him.

“Yes Max, you did and I absolutely appreciate it. I really do.” You began, grasping his hand between yours. “But that doesn’t make up for that fact that you’ve had this planned out for nearly a month and only told me thirty minutes ago!” You argued.

Thirty minutes ago, before your ride to the paddock can pick you guys up, Max had revealed that his ex-girlfriend, Kelly, and her daughter would be at the garage to watch the race. When you asked how they got passes to the garage, he shared that he had flown them out and provided them with passes for the weekend.

“So she’s been here all weekend?” You questioned him, arms crossed and a brow raised at him. The Italian heat felt even ten times worse as you grew frustrated with your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but they were at the Paddock Club, they’re going to watch the race from the garage though.” Max shrugged, as if it were not a big deal. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and grasped your hand in his free one.

You couldn’t help the feeling of insecurity seeping into your bones. Kelly was rich and gorgeous, she was a model, and you weren’t. You had a normal job that offered you stability, paid you good money, and you knew how to clean up nice. However, you were no where near her level of anything or any of the other WAGs at that.

“You’ve known this whole time that she was here?” You asked quietly, your brows furrowed at him. You hated that you kept asking him questions, it was like you were interrogating him.

Max looked down at you, confusion etched on his face, “I did, schatje. I flew them out and got them some paddock passes.” You acted before you could speak, and shook your head at him, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Your boyfriend was one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, however, many people took that as a sign to take advantage of him. While it took him longer to realize it, you noticed it instantly.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset though, I told you the truth, it’s not like I’m doing anything with her.” Max defended himself, his hands wildly moving around. “She reached out telling me that P missed me and wanted to come to a race, it’s not for her, it’s for Penelope.”

“I understand that Max and as harsh as this sounds, Penelope isn’t your responsibility. I get that you helped raise her, but you guys broke up, you don’t need to provide for her anymore.” You threw a hand in the air, emphasizing your point. “Kelly’s fully capable of flying herself out and buying tickets to a race weekend.”

“I was just being nice.” Max raised his voice, also growing frustrated with the situation.

“And she’s still using you!” You fumed, tears welled in the corner of your eyes. “How many times does she have to use you for you to realize it? You guys broke up and she still manages to get what she wants out of you! Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk in and see her there?” You tried to reason with him. While many of his fans didn’t approve of Kelly, you knew Twitter would have a field day clowning you when they find out Kelly was present in the garage. Social media was never always a nice place and you’ve learned to ignore it, but that didn’t mean it stopped the hate from happening.

Max ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered under his breath, you scoffed and leaned back into your seat, staring at the window again.

“Do you not trust me?” Max asked forcibly, staring at the side of your head again. You let out a defeated sigh and turn your head to look at him, “I do trust you, Max.”

Max’s shoulders slouched as he leaned on the seat sideways, his body fully turned to you.

“Then why do you not trust me with this?” He pushed, nudging your knee with his, trying to get an answer out of you. He knew he was at fault and he just wanted to make it right.

“I don’t trust her.” You simply answered, feeling done with the conversation. The car turned, nearing the entrance of the paddock. You sniffled as you untucked your hair from behind your ears, removing your sunglasses from the top of your head.

“You don’t have to worry about her, schatje. I want you not her, there’s a reason why we broke up.” Max reassured, trying to ease the tension between the two of you.

The car came to a halt, a knock came from the driver, indicating that you guys arrived at the paddock. Before you could leave, you turned to Max and said, “Yet, she’s still here.”

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Entering the paddock was always a frenzy. The moment you stepped out the car, fans were quick to recognize you, knowing that one of their favorite drivers were right behind you. You slid your sunglasses on and smoothed out the white maxi dress you wore. Max followed in suit and flashed a smile at the fans.

Shouldering his bag, he held his hand out to you, “I know you’re upset, but can I please hold your hand?”

You nodded and entangled your fingers with his. The two of you began your walk into the paddock hand in hand, as fans screamed and waved at Max. He gave your hand a squeeze before guiding you guys to some of the barricades and signing a few things for the fans.

After you guys scanned your passes, Max led you guys to the Red Bull garage. However, you came to a halt. Max was quick to look back at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah—I’m gonna meet up with Alex and Rebecca, if that’s okay? We were planning on seeing each other before the race.” You tell him. A small pout formed on Max’s lips, “Oh, okay, I’ll drop you off.” He offered, still holding your hand.

You and the girls decided to meet up at the Paddock Club. In front of the entrance, Max stood in front of you.

“You’ll come to the garage to watch, right? I need you there.” He asked quietly, so that people passing by cannot hear your conversation.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be there before you’re in the car.”

Max mirrored your actions, “Okay, I love you.” He pulled you in by the waist and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. You squeezed his waist in response, “I love you too.”

Max watched as you entered the building, huffing to himself, while he watched you walk further and further into the building.

Placing your sunglasses above your head, you scan the room until you see one of the girls, Alex was the first to spot you, standing in her spot and waving at you to come over.

“Coucou mon amour!” She greeted you, (Hello, my love!) immediately wrapping you in a hug. You squeal as she squeezed you, “Helloo!” You giggled. You go to greet Rebecca, who is immediately giving you a knowing look. Being the older one amongst the three of you, she was often looked up to as the older sister.

She wrapped an arm around you and smoothed your back, “What’s wrong?” She asked while you got situated in the chair beside her.

You shook your head, “It’s just Max.”

Rebecca grabbed the bottle of champagne on the table and poured some into a flute glass. She offered you the glass, “Thank you, I needed this.”

She smiled watching you take a long sip from the glass, “Oh honey, I know.”

Alex pouted and nudged your foot with hers, “What happened with Max?”

“He invited Kelly to watch the race at the garage today.” You bluntly shared, slumping yourself in your chair.

Rebecca’s eyes widened, “Shut up.”

You raised a brow at her, “Oh, I didn’t even get to the kicker yet.”

Alex’s brows raised, “Which is?”

“He flew her out—he fucking flew her out and gave her tickets for the entire weekend.” You revealed through gritted teeth, still being aware of your surroundings. Rebecca cursed under her breath as Alex took your glass and refilled it with champagne.

Grabbing the glass, you continued, “She’s literally been here all weekend and he only told me this morning. I just don’t get it, they broke up, I don’t know why he’s still so concerned about her.” You took another long sip of champagne,

“What was the reason why?” Rebecca asked you.

“Apparently Penelope missed him—which I can believe, but did he really have to do all the providing when she can financially support herself? I get that he was trying to be nice, but still.” You grunt, fiddling with your glass.

Alex comfortingly rubbed your arm, “No, I get it, if Charles did the same thing with his ex, I’d also be upset.”

“I literally told him that she’s using him once again.” You threw your hands up. “If he wants her to be there so much, he might as well just get back with her. Like—am I crazy for losing my mind at the fact they were in contact with each other, even if it wasn’t in a romantic sense?”

Rebecca shook her head, “No, your feelings are absolutely valid. You’re just concerned and it obviously caught you off guard. He shouldn’t have been texting his ex in the first place.”

You groaned and held your head in your hands, “I hate feeling like this, it makes me question if he actually wants to be with me or not.”

Rebecca held her finger up, “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Placing her hand on your shoulder she says, “Max might be acting very stupid right now, but one thing I know for sure is that Max loves you and absolutely adores you. Without a doubt.”

Alex nodded, agreeing with Rebecca, “Like have you seen the way he looks at you? He literally worships the ground you walk on. I’m sure he’s beating himself up right now for doing what he did.”

“He loves you, (y/n), everyone who’s seen you guys together knows it. I don’t think he’d put himself in this kind of position on purpose, you’ve got that man wrapped around your finger, babe.” Rebecca reassured you, throwing her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into another hug.

“Come on cheer up, who cares if she’s in the garage today? You’re the one he’s gonna be going home with tonight.” You laughed shaking your head at her teasing.

“Hey! Tonight and every single night!” Alex pointed out raising her glass at you.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Two hours. It’s been two hours since Max has dropped you off at the Paddock Club and he still hasn’t heard back from you. He’s been distracted all day. During a meeting with Christian and some of the engineers, he couldn’t help but constantly check for a text from you, earning himself a scolding from the team principal. Checo and a couple of people from the team tried talking to him, but he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes wandered wondering when you would enter the garage.

He did in fact see Kelly and P—obviously he was expecting to see them since he invited them, but all he felt while talking to them was guilt. Guilty because he remembered the look of hurt and betrayal in your eyes and how he was the reason behind it. He hated it, he felt grimy, and dirty for going behind your back and texting Kelly. Not even ten minutes into catching up with the mother and daughter, Max realized that you were in fact correct. Kelly had used him again, instantly making advances on him despite knowing he was happily taken. But for the sake of P, Max made sure to be friendly though kept his distance to not feed into her mother’s schemes.

It was nearing lights out and you were still not in the garage. He had gone through his warm ups with Bradley, had his fireproofs and suit on, and even laced up his shoes. Still, no sight of you whatsoever in the garage. He was beginning to worry about you, sending you a couple of messages to your phone.

The car was due to be on the grid and there was about half an hour left till lights out. Max looked around the bustling garage, checking to see if you had snuck in without him seeing, though to no avail, you still weren’t there.

“Max…Max…Max?” GP tried to get Max’s attention. Snapping a finger in front of the driver’s face, Max’s eyes flickered over to his race engineer.

“What do you want now?” Max groaned, throwing his head back. To onlookers, it looked like a typical interaction between Max and GP. Though, GP felt like he was babysitting a child whose attention span couldn’t focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.

“Mate, I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” GP claimed. Choosing to ignore the information he had just “briefed” Max on, he decided to be a friend.

“Where’s your head at?” GP asked Max. The Dutch man sighed, leaning against one of the storage units in the garage.

“I messed up with (y/n). I did something and it was my fault, I know it was. But she’s not happy with me at the moment and I just want to make it right.” Max summarized, not sharing any more details to protect the privacy of your relationship.

GP motioned towards Kelly who was talking to one of the other influencers in the garage, “Does it have to deal with that?”

“Unfortunately.” Max mumbled, crossing his arms and choosing to stare at the floor.

GP took a minute to stare at his driver. Max was deflated, he wasn’t as hyped for the race or over explaining some random fact about god knows what. Instead, Max kept to himself, greeting people when he had to and communicating with his team prior to the race. Other than that, Max chose to stare at his phone and look longingly outside the garage.

“Listen, I don’t know what exactly went down. But I’ve seen you with (y/n) and she clearly makes you happy, we’ve all see how lively you are with her around. You’ve got a lot of groveling to do bud, but it’ll be worth it.” GP advised, clapping Max on the back to wake him up.

“She’ll always be worth it.” Max quietly said, taking another glimpse at his phone. Only to be met with his wallpaper of you and him, with no notifications.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Christian Horner stared at his monitor at the pit wall watching as drivers and their teams gathered on the grid. He saw Checo by his car, taking a few sips of water before the race. When the camera panned to Max’s Red Bull, the driver was no where to be seen. Sparing him a second of wondering where his driver was, the camera cut to the garage where Max stood, race suit at his waist, looking no where near ready to participate in the race.

“Why is Max not in the car?” He turned to GP, stress evident on his face. GP turned in his seat and looked back into the garage to see Max pacing. Cursing under his breath, he excused himself from Christian and rushed to Max.

“Max, the race is literally about to start!”

Max stops his pacing and places his hands at his hips, “I need my girlfriend.”

“What?” Bradley and GP both stuttered out. Max deadpanned at the two men in front of him.

“(Y/n), I need to see her before the race.” Max demanded. Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, “Max, she’ll be here after the race, you’ll be fine.” He pushed the balaclava towards Max’s chest, who simply let the mask fall at his feet.

GP sighed at Max, before calling one of the Red Bull employees.

“Please send out a search for (y/n), Max is refusing to get in the car.” He whispered to the intern. The girl looked at him confusingly but nodded and set out the garage.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

You rushed as best as you could in kitten heels towards the Red Bull garage. You were supposed to be at the garage at least half an hour ago. You and the girls got caught up catching up with each other’s lives that none of you realized it was getting close to lights out. It truly was a funny sight, the three of you rushing out of the Paddock Club and running through the paddock like a bunch of maniacs.

“(Y/n)!” You heard someone yell. You stopped in your steps and looked around, only to see a girl dressed in Red Bull uniform. You recognized her, you believed her name was Nicole and was an intern for the team this season.

“Hey! Is Max on the grid already?” You approached her, a little sad that you missed seeing him before the race.

“No, he’s actually waiting for you. They’re sending out a search for you because he’s refusing to get in the car.” Nicole explained, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you through the crowd of fans and towards the garage.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

GP released a sigh of relief once he saw you enter the garage. He shoved Max’s shoulder to avert his attention to you.

“What—oh,” Max began, only to stop himself and rush towards you. You met him half way, placing a hand on his elbow.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to stay there for too long.” You quickly apologized. Max shook his head, “I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re here.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in the car yet?”

Max placed both his hands on your waist with a faint blush on his cheeks, “I need my goodluck kiss.”

You paused your actions, “You’re kidding me. Max, the race is about to start in five minutes!” You scolded your boyfriend.

“Please, schatje.” He pleaded, leaning closer towards you. Other team members and guests watched the both of you, the scene in front of them peaking their interests.

You gazed up at his stormy eyes, giving in because you knew he was stubborn and wouldn’t stop until he got his way. Plus, the team would hate you if you lowered their chances of scoring points this weekend.

“Just because I kiss you doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you anymore.” You clarified quietly. His forehead nodded against yours, “I know schatje. I promise to make it up to you, I really do.”

A small smile forms on your lips, “I know, Maxie.”

Max takes that as his sign to crash his lips onto yours. One of his hands support the back of your neck while the other rests on your lower back. You smile against his lips, pulling back and placing a peck right above the small mole on his upper lip.

“I love you.” You whispered to him.

“I love you too.” He whispered back. Before you can fully pull away from him he quickly adds, “I’m serious about my promise.”

“I know, baby.” You squeeze him comfortingly. “Now get out there and win the race. Stay safe.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as both you and GP ushered him towards his gear that’s been waiting to be put on.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

A man of his word, Max won the race. With at least a five second gap between him and Lando, your boy was top step yet once again. As much as he won, the thrill of seeing him win and crossing the finish line never got old. You celebrated every win of his as if it were his first. You’d always be proud of him, whether he got pole or not.

Many of the engineers and members of the team began to rush towards the grid, eager to greet Max once he got out the car.

Looking around, you suddenly make eye contact with Kelly, who seemed to have been sizing you up. You weren’t really sure what look was on her face, but the hints of a snarl were on her lips. With her nose stuck up in the air, you watched as she carried her daughter and began to follow the rest of the team.

“Don’t mind her. You’re the one he wants to see when he gets out that car.” A voice said from beside you. You jumped, coming face to face with Christian. Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s boss. Prior to the race, he was informed of the search party the entire team had for you to get Max in the car. While he was annoyed earlier, he thought it was rather cute that Max was so fond of you.

“You know, he’s never begged her for a good luck kiss.” Said Christian, a knowing look on his features. “You on the other hand—he can’t seem to function whenever you’re not around.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was gonna put that much of a fight earlier today.” You apologized, feeling a bit flustered. “He’s a bit stubborn sometimes.” You added, to which Christian chuckled at.

“Oh, I know. Max and I have worked together for years.” He stated. He glanced out the garage and motioned towards it, “C’mon now, I’m sure he’s already looking for you.”

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

You make your way through the crowd of Red Bull members, many of them recognizing you and helping you squeeze through till you were at the very front of the barricade.

Max was already out, helmet in his hand, while his other embraced GP and a couple other engineers. You watched as he high-fived Penelope, barely sparing a glance at her mother. A little burst of pride went off in your stomach, you couldn’t help it.

His blue orbs scanned the crowd of red and blue, looking for you. You yell his name, his eyes immediately finding yours. A smile breaks out on his face as he rushed over to you, dropping his helmet in the process. Despite the barricade between you two, he wraps both his arms tightly around you, lifting you off the ground.

“Max!” You squealed, your arms wrapping around his neck. His large hand found your cheek, slightly pulling you away from his neck so he can connect his lips with yours. Naturally, your lips moulded perfectly against his moving in synch. The team erupted in cheers around you.

“I’m so proud of you!” You tell him once your lips separate.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He grins, gently pinching your bottom lip between his pointer finger and thumb.

He couldn’t stay long, being told that he had to get to the podium for the trophy ceremony.

“I’ll see you after the podium, schatje!” He yelled with a wink over his shoulder, causing a blush to form on your cheeks.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

The ceremony and the media tent took a while, you finally got to see Max an hour later. You were sitting in his driver’s room, when he bursted through the door already looking for you.

You stood up, smiling at him, “Hey.”

He mirrors your smile. Placing the trophy on the couch he opens his arms for you. You walk into the comfort of his hold, burying your head into the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso.

Finally it was just the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” You said, though it came out muffled against his skin. Max’s hands stopped the circular motions they were rubbing on your back.

“For what?”

You pulled back looking at him, “I overreacted about the whole Kelly thing. I should’ve taken your word for it.”

Max immediately shook his head, disagreeing with you. “No, you were absolutely right about her. I should’ve listened to you from the beginning. The moment I said hi to them she was already trying to come onto me—I avoided her by the way, I just entertained P.”

“I’m also sorry for what I said about P. I was in the wrong for that comment.” You said, a small grimace on your face when you remembered the off hand comment you made about the poor child.

Max chuckled, “Schatje, seriously, it’s okay.”

His calloused hands were rough against the soft skin of your face. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cradled your jaw in his hand.

“I may have a soft spot for P, but they’re in my past. You’re my future, (y/n). The future that I only want and see myself in.” Max admitted. Your eyes gleamed at him, “You’re the future I want too, Maxie.”

“Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me.” He joked, squeezing your cheeks.

“I love you. So much. I know it seemed like I didn’t trust you today, but I want you to know that I do. I fully trust you with my life and I mean it.” You said, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Max nodded, “I believe you. I love you too.”

The two of you basked in the silence and comfort of being in each others arms. Max was the first one to break the silence, “You don’t have plans after this right?”

You hummed against his neck, “Besides celebrating your win, nothing. Why?”

“Because I’m taking you out on a date.” Max proudly announced, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Don’t you wanna celebrate with the team?” You asked him. Max shook his head, “Nope, the only person I want to celebrate with tonight is you.”

You giggled at Max’s antics, “Whatever you say, Champ.”

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fanfic

2K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 7 months

Note

hi!! i really love your blog: i usually stay silent and only like the posts but i thought today should be the day i request something!

would you be open to write a social media au with lando Norris x y/n where the reader is a marine biologist? or a surfer? or something ocean-related lmao

feel free to disregard this request if you don’t like it or don’t have time!! xx

just add water | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem reader

first fish ruined his appetite, now they steal his girlfriend?

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 103,451 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: perks of the job but back on shore i clock in to my full time job of missing lando

view all comments

user1: can we have the hair routine cause miss ma'am is in the sea every damn day and her hair is still healthier than mine

user2: REAL

landonorris: f1 is just my day job, talking about you is my passion and career

yourusername: babe even the whales in monterey bay know about you

landonorris: they better be mclaren fans

yourusername: eh i think i heard super max (whale edition) the other day

maxverstappen1: conquered all of f1 and the seven seas so real of me

landonorris: THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE SAYING THE RISING OCEAN TEMPERATURES ARE FRYING THEIR BRAINS

yourusername: babe don't joke about that :(

landonorris: sorry :(

oscarpiastri: can you please come to the next race i may put my head through a wall if i have to watch this man go through his camera roll again RETELLING me all of the stories

yourusername: didn't realise we were so annoying 🧐

oscarpiastri: don't get me wrong you guys are cute but sometimes i wanna nap after practice in peace and not hear about whale shit

landonorris: i SEE HOW IT IS

alexalbon: no oscar is right i've heard about when had a baby seal on her surfboard about seven billion times

yourusername: HEY that was cute

user3: okay but lando could talk to ME about y/n's adventures

user4: i want to hear ALL of it for real

user5: lando and y/n podcast when?

alexalbon: do not give them ideas they’re already number one and two yappers in the international waffling championship

yourusername: yapper and proud 😤

landonorris: healthy relationship communications and boundaries? no. yappers? yes!

alexalbon: has anyone ever told you guys you’re annoying?

yourusername: yes 😃

user6: they’re so annoying i love them

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,451 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: does this girl own a pair of trousers? real question.

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user8: i actually don't think i've ever seen a man this down bad

user9: ALL men should aspire to be this whipped

yourusername: i wish you would join the no trouser revolution, give the girlies something to look at

user10: i agree

yourusername: okay back up babe that ass is all mine

landonorris: it's okay babe you can admire your (my) ass all the time if you come home PLS

yourusername: sorry babe the ocean doesn't sleep and the whales need me

landonorris: but i need you too :(

maxverstappen1: WAH WAH I'M SICK OF YOUR FUCKING WHINING

alexalbon: THANK YOU FINALLY

landonorris: erm why am i being victimised in my own comment section

maxverstappen1: you are doing my fucking nut in mate yeha i get you miss her but kinda your fault for having a cool gf with a cool job

yourusername: omg thanks 😊

landonorris: Y/N???

yourusername: babe no offence but he's a three time world champ i'm gonna take the compliment

landonorris: i guess so :(

user10: just one normal comment section, please that is all i ask for

oscarpiastri: maybe i should get on this whole j.peg business cause my photography is doing some heavy lifting here

yourusername: i didn't take you for a stunt queen miss rookie

landonorris: where is the peace, love and positivity ?? you guys are such haters

oscarpiastri: proudly

yourusername: no cool shells for you mr piastri

oscarpiastri: I TAKE IT BACK

landonorris: you people are such flip flops

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 112,872 others

yourusername: i promise we do actually do work

view all comments

user14: why am i now considering a marine biology degree for a sick ass instagram feed

user15: and protecting the sanctity of ocean life?

user14: yeah sure throw that in there too?

landonorris: i hope you slapped the FUCK out of that stingray for steve irwin

yourusername: babe we all know violence is not the answer

landonorris: you said you'd break the knee caps of any driver that took me out?

yourusername: i do not recall this

landonorris: steve irwin is a national treasure, you should've done it for oscar

oscarpiastri: i'm sure it wasn't that exact stingray mate

landonorris: you don't know that

danielricciardo: i see you've forgotten about the other aussie you were teammates with ???

yourusername: i wouldn't have that if i were you daniel

landonorris: y/n??? you're meant to be on my side

yourusername: say sorry to larry and maybe i'll gang up on daniel with you

danielricciardo: Y/N???

landonorris: i'm sorry larry ... and daniel i guess ?

danielricciardo: if my hand weren't broken right now...

user16: okay i think lando is having y/n withdrawals

yourusername: his bitchiness is a symptom of separation anxiety

landonorris: sorry not sorry

user17: mclaren pr praying for y/n to come to a race soon

maxverstappen1: p says pretty please can she bagsy the pink shells?

yourusername: most definitely she can !! i'll even be on the look out for more

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n you're my favourite - p

yourusername: that's it i'm coming home rn

landonorris: am i a joke to you?

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,322,099 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: reunited and it feels so good oh and a double podium, pretty sweet

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user21: obsessed with how lando said that y/n is clearly his lucky charm and the "dumbass" ocean won't be getting his girlfriend back

user22: there's levels to hating and lando's level of hating on the ocean??

user23: his hatred of fish makes so much more sense right now

user24: either he hates anything to do with the ocean or y/n convinced him they deserve to live 😭

landonorris: i'll say it's number one but realistically it's two greatly helped by the fact that it tastes gross anyway

yourusername: I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU

landonorris: i know hhehehehehehehe

yourusername: i love you stupid

landonorris: i love you too dummy

yourusername: as much as i enjoyed this race i am ready for home time (after karaoke, you promised me karaoke with yuki)

landonorris: AHAHAHAAH TAKE THAT OCEAN Y/N COMING HOME

alexalbon: bro has beef with the ocean 😭

georgerussell63: bro had to share his gf with WATER 😭

maxverstappen1: bro is being ... torn apart here KEEP GOING LOL

oscarpiastri: no keep going cause i just want a nap before debrief and some people are being WAY TOO LOUD

carlossainz55: i think that's probably why you guys are getting away with bullying the little goblin

user25: oscar out here just confirming that lando and y/n are ... for lack of a better word up to no good?

user26: y/n didn't lie when she called him a stunt queen

landonorris: i can't hear y'all LALALALALALA

yourusername: they hate us because they ain't us

landonorris: period 💅

user27: i hate (love) them your honour

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 419,034 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: so he had the whole proposal planned out but got a bit too excited at suzuka ... if anyone asks we got engaged on a boat in the mediterranean not in his driver's room. aside from that, HOLY FUCK I AM ENGAGED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU LANDO I CAN'T WAIT FOR FOREVER

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user30: HOLY 😭 FUCKING 😭 SHIT 😭

landonorris: can we agree on no more like three month placements pretty please?

yourusername: baby the whales need me

landonorris: i need you more FIANCE :(

yourusername: gosh you are convincing, no more retreats for more than a month

landonorris: yay !!

yourusername: you need to put up more shelves for our shells though

landonorris: on it, i love you (i'm calling my dad to do it)

yourusername: i love you too baby

danielricciardo: enchante tease on the engagement post and for free ??? love you two

yourusername: at least you have the prettiest model ever for it

landonorris: I'M BLUSHING

danielricciardo: i'll deal with this because i'm happy for you two

mclarenf1: double podium and an engagement, suzuka really delivered this year

oscarpiastri: i guess i take back my comments about being loud in the drivers room... i'm so happy for you guys you deserve it

landonorris: ahaha i knew you were a softy really pastry boy

yourusername: i always knew you loved us really oscar, you're just sassy and we respect that

landonorris: .... sure

maxverstappen1: did he propose at sea in one final power move over his arch nemesis the ocean?

yourusername: have you considered he did it at sea because i'm a marine biologist and i love it out there and he loves me?

maxverstappen1: well now i look like an asshole

landonorris: the sea 0 - 1 lando

yourusername: lando 😭

user31: well this has all been a rollercoaster

fin.

note: i've been kinda mia on here and i'm super sorry this request has taken so long lol. wanted to get this out now though cause lando had a horrid day today but i'm glad he's okay !! enjoy, i'm in my second week of a job so might get less busy xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #lando norris insta au #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris

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cl6teen · 1 year

Text

GQ COUPLES QUIZ ⍟ CL16

a GQ interview featuring the paddock’s favourite couple

mature/crude language and jokes, fluff, sexual/suggestive innuendos but not a lot, inaccurate tellings of the 2023 season, a lot of questions/inspo taken from the actual couples quizzes on GQ’s yt (rosalia and rauw) reblogs/interactions always appreciated !!

cl6teen 2023. do not copy/repost any of my works/ideas pls!

charles: i’m camera shy so maybe you should start!

y/n: you’re literally the least camera shy person i know, charles.

he laughs and readjusts himself in the wooden chair, placing his hands on the armrests to get comfortable just before speaking.

y/n: get on with it.

charles: hello, i’m charles leclerc, a driver for the scuderia ferrari formula one team.

y/n: and i’m y/n l/n, a model and partial social media influencer.

charles: and today we are here with GQ to do the couples quiz!

you smile, holding the stack of cards in your hands up to the camera.

y/n: i’m going to be asking charles some questions about myself and our relationship, so let’s see if he’s really the paddock’s boyfriend of the season.

charles: i am.

his face is stoic when he meets your eyes, leaving your mouth to tremble in a futile attempt to bite back a giggle. his silence doesn’t last long, laughing at the sight of you doubling over in your seat.

y/n: you’re so serious!

y/n: okay! first question of the day, cha: what is my favourite colour?

charles: come on, this is easy! it’s (fav colour), you’re wearing it now

y/n: correct! you actually bought this for me at the start of the year.

cockily, his eyes pan to the camera and he quick a quick shrug as if to say, ‘no big deal about it’, but you don’t catch it.

y/n: what is my go-to karaoke song?

charles: oh, fuck.

you laugh at the way his eyes widen, mocking his words with a deep tone.

y/n: oh. charles leclerc you should know this.

charles: nono i do, i do mate! give me a moment.

the camera zooms into his face, placing calculations across the screen as he’s searches around in his head for the answer—you just went on a karaoke date some nights before; it was in there somewhere.

charles: ah! voulez-vous by ABBA.

y/n: i should dock you half a point for taking so long, but i’m feeling generous today so i won’t.

y/n: what has been my favourite grand prix of the season so far?

charles: baku, because i won no?

y/n: australia actually—lewis’ win.

he cocks his head at you with a raised brow as if to ask if you were serious, and you rush to cover your smile with the stack of quiz cards.

y/n: i’m joking, of course it was baku!

you briefly reach for his hand.

y/n: my love’s first of many wins of the season.

charles: it’s my turn for a question now, yes?

y/n: no charles, i’m asking you questions right now! you go after i’m done.

charles: then why is it called the couples quiz, GQ! should be called the y/n quiz.

y/n: do you see how whiny he is? wait your turn.

jabbing your manicured thumb towards the monegasque, you shake your head at the camera.

y/n: next question, what is my hidden talent?

charles: but it’s hidden for a reason right? we cannot say it.

you both laugh at his words.

y/n: a hidden talent that only you know of.

charles: well then i definitely can’t say it out loud, i’d get in trouble.

he smirks boyishly, leaving you to gasp and reach over to smack his shoulder.

y/n: say something else! one that can be said.

charles: ermm, you can memorize any recipe you make once.

y/n: that’s normal though.

charles: no it’s not! it’s very weird how you know the exact measurements of everything without having to check. carlos agrees too!

you shrug and give him the point.

y/n: how did we meet?

you turn to the camera and cover your lips from his view before mouthing, ‘he better know this one’.

charles: we met at the monaco grand prix after party in 2021—lewis introduced us and you were too drunk to remember my name.

charles: you didn’t think i forgot, did you?

y/n: i was hoping you forgot the drunk part.

he laughs at the small pout drawing on your face.

y/n: when and where was our first kiss?

charles: monza, 2021—i have it on this bracelet.

he holds up his wrist to show the camera. right above his forza ferrari bracelet is one that has the aforementioned date engraved on it.

y/n: isn’t he so romantic?

y/n: what’s the first thing i eat after waking up—don’t make a joke.

charles: i wasn’t going to make a joke.

dramatically, you roll your eyes at him — the smile on his face says otherwise.

charles: you have yogurt so you have something to snack on while making your actual breakfast.

charles: i’m an observant man.

y/n: my favourite thing about you. so, what have i always wanted to learn?

charles: like sports? or music?

y/n: hmm…let’s do both for two points.

charles: okay…you’ve always wanted to learn piano.

you nod your head as he counts his fingers.

y/n: correct.

charles: and…you want to learn how to play tennis

y/n: wrong! i know how to play tennis charles. i want to learn how to ski.

charles: but you never come with me on my ski trips!

y/n: you always go when i’m working babe.

he gives an apologetic look, which you return with a small smile.

y/n: this one is a bit difficult, but what is my signature scent?

charles: ah…is it one of the margiela?

y/n: i like some of the scents…but no, it is (fav perfume).

rolling his eyes, he takes your wrist to his nose to get a smell.

charles: ah! you do smell good, though.

y/n: merci, mon amour. what are the three main things that i cannot leave my house without?

charles: three things you can’t leave without?

charles: me, of course.

y/n: that’s true! but apart from you.

charles: your lipgloss, your phone, and a pair of flats. you don’t even need to tell me if i’m right, open her bag and check!

[OFF CAMERA]: he’s right.

charles: bring-bring it here!

a hand emerges past the camera to hand charles the vintage chanel bag. with a shit eating grin on his face he opens the bag towards the camera to reveal the three items listed.

charles: where are the rest of your things, my love!

he laughs at the way you snatch your bag from him.

y/n: first of all, lipgloss is meant to be retouched, and heels aren’t always comfortable.

y/n: plus, when’s i’m with him i never need anything else do i?

charles: what’s your next question?

y/n: what is my night time skin care routine?

charles: ehm…can i get the next next question?

you burst out into laughter, doubling over as you try to collect yourself.

y/n: he didn’t even try!

charles: do you know my skin care routine?

y/n: i gave you your skin care routine!

charles: it’s too complicated to remember. please, next question.

y/n: what is my—who approved these questions?

[OFF CAMERA]: our boss, please continue.

y/n: charles, what is my bra size?

charles: easy, (bra size).

silently, you stare at him in slight confusion that he paid attention to such little detail.

y/n: what is the best way to make me laugh?

charles: hearing my laugh!

y/n: that is true! specifically the one where you kind of sound like a duck.

[OFF CAMERA]: alright charles, you’ve scored eleven points.

charles: that’s a good score, no? think you can beat it?

y/n: of course!

charles inconspicuously reaches for his stack placed on the console inbetween your chairs. there’s a cute smile on his face as he shuffles through his cards.

charles: what was my first f1 win?

y/n: spa, 2019. how could i not know!

charles: that’s true! where do i want us to next travel?

y/n: you didn’t tell me this though! charles always does this thing where he surprises me with our vacation destination.

charles: ah, you’re right.

he goes to shuffle the card to the back, but you’re quick to stop him.

y/n: i can guess, but if i get it correct i get two points. is that allowed?

the both of you pause to look past the camera for a go ahead, which is given by a swift thumbs up from the crew.

y/n: i actually don’t know if you want to go here, but i do. morocco?

charles: correct.

y/n: alright guys, look out for morocco baecation photo dumps on my instagram within the next few months!

charles: next question, if i wasn’t an f1 driver, what would i be?

y/n: a tennis player? i would say a footballer but after that charity match…

charles laughs loudly at the mention of his game and the memory of his dive head first into the pitch ground.

charles: tennis player is one of them, so i’ll give the point out of the kindness of my heart.

charles: so, how many kids do i want?

y/n: you want three, but don’t mind two if i can’t handle the stress of a third child. you don’t mind the genders, but it would be nice to have a least one boy and girl in any order.

charles: you have a great memory, my love.

charles: how can you tell that i’m angry?

y/n: oh my god, it’s always written all over your face cha. you get all like this and your bros furrow so much.

you try your hand at imitating it, clenching you jaw and giving your most menacing look to the camera before showing it to charles.

charles: hey you’re pretty good at it!

y/n: i think it’s quite attractive though, i love when the cameras catch it during the grand prix.

he winks at you.

charles: what is my favourite way to spend time with you?

y/n: sex? am i allowed to say that? can you cut this part out?

charles: who has the corrupted mind now! the answer was cooking together!

you make a helpless face at your boyfriend, almost feeling embarrassed that your words are going to be stuck on youtube for all to see.

y/n: whatever.

charles: what is my favourite animal?

y/n: ah…monkeys?

charles: monkeys? monkeys!?

he leans in closer to your seat in disbelief and slight fear.

y/n: wait wait wait!

charles: i’m afraid of monkeys!

y/n: but the little baby ones are so adorable!

charles: no, absolutely not. no point for you, y/n.

he dramatically crosses his forearms to each other to make a large x at your face.

charles: what is my sign?

y/n: libra, next question.

charles: wait—i don’t even know my sign!

y/n: i was the one who told you it!! it was one of our first dates and you asked me about your birth chart!

charles raises a shocked brow towards the camera.

charles: what is my favourite colour on you?

y/n: red on race day, and then sage green or white normally.

charles: it’s lovely seeing your girlfriend in your colour, no?

charles: what is the most annoying thing that comes alongside living with you?

y/n: absolutely nothing.

charles: is that your final answer?

y/n: would it be anything else…?

you both sit and stare at one another in silence.

charles: i don’t like how majority of our bed is taken up by stuffed animals.

you groan loudly at him, reaching over to swat his thigh.

charles: ow! okay, i’ll ask you one more question for redemption. what would be my ideal retirement plan?

y/n: obviously we’ll be married and hopefully with kids. you wouldn’t mind staying in monaco but you’d also like to try living in italy—but in the countryside on a large plot of land.

charles: are you sure that’s not your retirement plan?

y/n: charles leclerc.

charles: okay okay, you’re correct!

y/n: i’m pretty sure i just moped your ass in this quiz

[OFF CAMERA]: actually y/n, you only scored nine points.

charles claps obnoxiously with a wide smile on his face, to which you flip him off and brush him aside.

charles: hah! i guess that settles it!

y/n: whatever, i have you beat in lots of other things.

charles: not this though—but i believe our time is up!

turning to face the camera, you both give a curt wave.

both: thanks for watching our GQ couples quiz!

…

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, GQ, and 890,555 others

yourinstagram what happens in morocco

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charles_leclerc stays in morocco ❤️

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #cl16 #cl16 imagine

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d4yl1ghts · 22 days

Note

Hi could you pls write a modern au with Colin bridgerton where y/n is on a blind date that goes terribly bc the guy she’s set up with is rude and mean and Colin rescues her from her date and they enjoy their night together tysm!!!

saviour

colin bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: your blind date goes wrong but luckily colin is there to save the day

A/N- season 3 gave me the motivation to write this

You nervously played with your fingers as you awaited the arrival of the guy you’d planned to meet up with. He was currently already ten minutes late. You always hated the idea of blind dates, you were never even one for just normal dates but you especially hated blind dates because nine times out of ten they never worked out. Hesitantly, you glanced around the cosy restaurant and glanced down back at your phone to look for any new texts.

After seeing no new notifications, you zoned out, imagining if you had gotten set up. Suddenly, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled you out of your thoughts. A tall, lean, blonde guy gazed at you intently. He wasn’t particularly attractive but neither unattractive. He had blue eyes and a pointed bone structure. “Are you Y/N?”, he asked with an emotionless tight-lipped smile. “Yes, are you Matt?”, you anxiously responded.

“Mhm.”, he gritted out his teeth. A waitress came over to take your orders as you asked: “So, uh, what do you do for a job?”

“I don’t work.”, he simply stated. “Oh.”, you muttered quietly. You took in his outfit. A designer shirt and a Ralph Lauren jumper. He was definitely not poor. You were slightly frustrated that he had not even attempted to reciprocate the question and so to avoid the awkward silence you stated: “I’m actually a journalist.”

He looked up from his phone. “What do you write about? Feminism?”, he replied cockily. He laughed to himself at what he would call a “joke”. You stared at him bemusedly. Did he really think that was funny? “No. I actually write about current situations in the news. Like the important stuff.”, you said. He chuckled. “Oh. Is that a fun job? Is that why you’re no fun?”, he questioned. Why was he saying you were no fun? Just because you didn’t laugh at his idea of a joke…

You huffed out in frustration and the waitress brought your food over. He eyed up your food. “That’s a large portion, is it not?”, he commented. Was he calling you greedy? “Your portion is twice the size of it.”, you replied calmly. “Because I need them for my muscles.”

You didn’t know what muscles he was on about so you raised your eyebrows. “I don’t think you should be eating so much.”, he continued. You glared at him incredulously. “Can you stop insulting me?! I’m going home. You obviously don’t want to speak to me about anything interesting.”, you grabbed your bag and placed a few notes on the table.

As soon as you made it out of the quiet restaurant, you picked up your phone and called the one person you knew you could rely on. Your friend had dropped you off as your car was at the mechanic but she wasn’t available right now as she was expecting the date to end later. You sighed as you pressed the call button on Colin’s contact.

He instantly picked up. “Colin.”, you mumbled happily. “Would you be able to give me a lift home?”, you asked hesitantly. “Of course, could you send me your location?”, he replied hurriedly. You sent him your location and ended the call. After about five minutes, you saw Colin’s car entered the car park.

Picking up your pace, you quickly arrived at the passenger side as you waited for him to unlock the door. “Hey.”, he smiled at you as he noticed your outfit. “You look nice. Were you on a date?”

You blushed slightly at his compliment and nodded. “Thank you so much, Colin. I hope I didn’t interrupt whatever you were doing or anything.”

“Y/N.”, he sighed as he took your hand. “I will do anything you need me to. No matter what I am doing.”

“Thank you.”, you smiled at him. “Would you like to go back to mine?”, he asked. “We could watch a movie.”, he added. “Only if you let me pick the film. I’m not watching Mamma Mia again.”, you laughed.

He chuckled quietly. He slowly pulled into his drive and opened the car door for you. He then went over to his front door and led you to the living room. “Put something on. I’ll get some snacks and blankets.”, he shouted as he headed into the kitchen. You chose Mamma Mia again as it was your and Colin’s signature film. He returned with crisps and lots of sweets. He smiled as he gave you the fluffiest blanket he owned.

“Mamma Mia? I thought you and I agreed that we couldn’t watch it again.”, he joked. You giggled. You got comfortable on the sofa and you snuggled up to Colin. He placed his arm around your shoulders. He glanced down and you gazed up at him. You took in his messy hair and deep blue eyes. Your eyes then shifted to his kissable lips and you noticed him eyeing your lips as well. You leaned in and he kissed you gently. It was safe to say that even though your date didn’t go well, you won’t ever need to go on a blind date again.

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #fem!reader

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hobie-enthusiast · 1 year

Text

UNLIKELY CLASH !

— rulebreaker!hobie brown x perfectionist!gn!reader

— enemies to lovers, swearing (more than last and fuck too), mutual pining, making out, small bit of harassment, rebellious teens, confused feelings, getting together

— hobie brown was everything you weren’t, so maybe that’s what attracted the two of you together so well (pt. 2)

— here part two gang! honestly i have an idea for part three in mind but if that’s something u honestly want pls lmk asap

— part 1 | part 2 (here) | part 3

The next couple of weeks were.. odd between you and Hobie.

Even after a heartfelt confession about the pressure you felt, you still had a reputation to uphold. You kept treating him the way you normally did; ignoring him and pretending he didn’t exist.

At first, this didn't really bother Hobie. He was used to chasing after you, messing with you and poking fun at the student council president. But he was getting bored. The small bits of making you late to class or taking up your time were amusing, but he wanted more of a reaction from you.

When he started interacting less and less, you grew confused. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked the attention and small interactions.

Though it was small, being late and skipping class (very rarely at this point), made you excited. It made you feel.. alive in a way.

But all that was dissipating. And you were upset about it.

You sat in your room after a long school day, mindlessly scrolling through your computer. Your parents had asked that you try and find a prom outfit, but that became boring really quick. You could never wear something truly exciting; just some fancy outfit plain coloured with fancy hair.

A knock on your window startled you from your thoughts. Glancing out, you see Hobie looking in, motioning for you to open the window. You walk over confused, deciding to open the window.

"Brown? It's.." You glance back at your alarm clock. "..10 pm. What are you doing here?"

"Awe, come on sweetheart. After such a confession, shouldn't we be on a first name basis?" He says, inviting himself into your room.

You scoff. "One, no, as you don't use my first name. And two, you can't be here! My parents are right down the hall!"

Hobie shrugged as he looked around your room, analyzing the decor. He noticed the clean desk you had, along with a neat bookshelf of many scientific books and knick-knacks. It suited you, every detail down to the way your game console sat neatly on your TV stand, not a speck of dust in sight.

"Did you show up just to judge my room?"

Hobie shook his head. "Nah, came t' ask ya somethin'." He said, sitting on your desk chair. "Up for an adventure?"

"Excuse me?" You question, taking a seat across from him on your bed. "When?"

"Now."

You know Hobie was.. absolutely crazy in some ways. But this? Going on a random adventure on a Friday night, and asking the person he wants to go with by entering their room via window was.. not the kind of crazy you would categorize him as.

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms. "You serious right now?"

"As serious as I always am." He responds with a shrug. "'s up to you. We'll be gone 'till tomorrow. Either 'u're up for a challenge or not."

A challenge he says? Hobie knew that you could be riled up from being challenged to do something. Perfectionists always had to win in his eyes.

And he was right.

"Give me five minutes."

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Next thing you knew, you were on a train from your isolated little town to Brooklyn itself. Hobie blindly led you onto a train, told you to not worry about tickets, then let the train take you both to the destination in mind.

Of course Hobie remembered what you said at the tree. He had been holding onto it for a while now. He knew you wanted to go to a city, do whatever you wanted, just for a little bit. And he was going to be the one to give that to you. Why? Well, that's a question he couldn't answer for himself.

"Brooklyn?" You questioned, looking out of the train window. "Why Brooklyn?"

"You said it under the tree. Ya wanted to go to the city, no?"

You nodded slowly, looking back out the window with a small smile. Of course you were flattered that he remembered your words. At least, you were hoping he did, you practically poured your feelings out.

Once the train stopped, you both stepped out of the station to admire the tall buildings towering over you. Hobie couldn’t help but be amused at the way your eyes shined at the new scenery. He practically came here everyday.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Not without plausible answers to the inevitable questions.

“So..” You turn to look at him, eyes still bright. “What do we do?”

He shrugs, hands in his vest pockets. “Whatever ya want. ‘s ‘ur day, no?”

"But I don't know where to go. I've never been to the city before."

Hobie's eyes widened for a moment, shocked at your words. You were really so sheltered you hadn't been to the city right beside your town? The thought alone was crazy to Hobie. He never understood why adults were so.. controlling.

He sighs, walking ahead. "Follow me then. I'll show ya ‘round."

And so you did just that. You followed Hobie around the city, taking in the sights he's showing you. All around the city, passing and weaving through people, making sure you had a nice time.

There was something you noticed. Before Hobie took you somewhere, he provided you with options on where to go. He didn't force you to go one place with him. He didn't strictly follow an itinerary. He always asked what you wanted to do, giving you full control of the day.

It was.. refreshing. This sense of freedom was exactly what you needed. To feel the fresh air of the city without worrying about impressing anyone. Hobie wasn't judging you, and you certainly weren't judging yourself.

The end of the day came quicker than your liking, and the two of you were on the rooftop of an apartment complex. The sun was setting behind the tall buildings, and Hobie brought the two of you some noodles to eat (he definitely didn't steal them).

You take a bite, setting the cup down with a sigh. "Today was.. actually really nice. I don't think I ever felt that, free before, if that makes sense?"

"Don't worry, you can say it." Hobie said, nudging your arm.

You roll your eyes with a small smile. "Mm.. guess I can. Thanks, Brown."

"Y'know, you can call me 'obie, swee'heart." He responded, shrugging. "'s better than m' last name, I think."

"I can't give you that satisfaction. Not yet."

Hobie raised an eyebrow, a shit-eating smirk crossing his face. "Yet?"

You're ready to correct yourself, but the words die in your throat. You couldn't help but like the sound of "yet". It meant more time with Hobie.. and you enjoyed that. Hobie's company was something you were starting to crave. Almost like a drug.

Hobie glanced over at you. "Gotta admit, didn't expect ya t' come with me. Considerin' 'ur parents don't know ya snuck out."

“Yeah well..” You sigh, looking out onto the building with a soft smile. “Maybe I just needed something different.” You finish, looking over at Hobie.

You’re suddenly very aware of how close the two of you are to each other. Hobie’s eyes flicker; your eyes, your mouth, and back a couple times. It’s almost like.. he was asking you for something. The longer you both stared, the more tempted he became, and you honestly couldn’t blame him.

So why did you pull away?

As soon as he started leaning in, you pulled back, clearing your throat. His eyes widen before narrowing, scoffing gently. Guess he misread the situation.

You really couldn’t tell him he didn’t.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next weeks Hobie Brown didn’t show up to school.

You had a feeling you were the cause. Brushing him off like that was such a dick move on your part. You knew that. You wanted nothing more than to find him and run to him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

But you couldn’t. You had an image to maintain. A reputation. All the trust you worked so hard to accumulate would go down the drain in an instant.

Of course.. Hobie may be worth that.

Hobie to you is worth that risk. All his rule breaking and crazed adventures are just what you need in your life. Something that gives you the freedom you longed for.

But you had to go and screw it up. And now here you were, three weeks after the incident, at your locker with a guy trying to talk you up.

“C’mon, [Name], just one night! It’ll change your life!”

You groan, slamming the locker shut. “Dude, I said no. Can you stop?”

“Why? I gotta know why!” He persisted, grabbing your wrist as you tried walking away.

You yank your arm away, trying to escape. “I don’t owe you that! Let me go.”

“Not until you-”

“Hey.”

You turn at the sudden voice, shocked at who it belonged to. There stood Hobie Brown, eyes filled with anger.

“They said, let go.” He said, grabbing the guy’s arm and yanking it away. “Learn t’ take a hint, aye?”

The guy’s eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, Brown? Their boyfriend?”

“As a matter of fac’-”

Then, Hobie turns you to him, bringing your lips to his. No warning, no asking, nothing. Just does what he’s been craving after three weeks of disappearance.

Everyone in the hallway around you two watched with shocked faces. Nobody could have seen this coming, not even you.

A thousand thoughts rushed through your head as Hobie kissed you, but one screamed to push away. So you did, giving him a shocked look before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the scene. You drag him to a storage closet, shutting the door.

“Brown, what the hell was that?!” You immediately ask, eyes narrowed. “What, do you disappear for three weeks then kiss every person you were hanging out with? What the hell?”

Hobie sighed, leaning against a shelf behind him. “Guy needed t’ be taught a lesson. Made sure he won’t bother ya.”

“I can do that on my own!” You respond, shoving an accusing finger in his chest. “Where have you been?!”

“Thinkin’.” Is all he responds with.

You groan. “For three weeks? Shit Hobie, I..” You words fall short. You want to say it.. squeeze it out. “I.. missed you.”

Hobie’s eyes widened as he takes in your words. You.. missed him? He never would have seen this coming; a confession from the president in a dingy storage closet? Not on his bucket list.

Your eyes watch Hobie, doing that same pattern he did on the rooftop; eyes, mouth, eyes. You wanted to kiss him again.. feel those lips again on yours. No.. you needed it.

You know what? Fuck this perfect image.

You grab onto Hobie's vest, pulling him in to connect your lips. Your rough with your movements at first, closing your eyes tightly and latching onto him with a white-knuckle grip. Hobie's eyes widened for a moment before they showed a more prideful look, kissing you back with just as much emotion.

His hands find placement on your lower back, pulling you into him as the kiss escalates from one to many. Hobie was like a starved man, slotting his leg in between yours to support you, pushing you back against the shelf and knocking over some cleaning supplies.

That could be fixed later.

Your original intention of one passionate kiss to show him how you felt turned into many heated kisses. The bell for class was drowned out by how into the moment you both were.

“Fuck.. Hobie..” You whisper, diving back in for another kiss.

Hobie groaned in turn, pulling you impossibly closer. “Shit sweetheart.. can’t say m’ name like that.”

“Hmm.. why’s that..?”

“‘s gonna drive me crazy..”

Suddenly, the doorknob to the closet rattles, causing you both to pull away. Your eyes go wide as Hobie grabs it from where he stands, bringing one finger to his lips to make you stay quiet.

The person on the other side tries to open the door, but ultimately fails. They groan and mumble something before walking away. Hobie looks over at your expression, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispers, planting a kiss to your jaw. “Or are ya gonna keep pretendin’ you’re too good for it?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you take his hand. "Nah, not this time. Come on."

some ppl who wanted to be tagged (🫶): @serenn08 | @rksses | @youronlyauthor | @dotheyevenknowmars | @xoxobabe

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #hobie brown x you #spiderman #hobie spiderverse #spider man atsv

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animeyanderelover · 3 months

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Can I ask NSFW headcanon for Muzan? Thank You 😊

What would the reaction be like if Yoriichi, Muzan, Carla and Reiji with a s/o who had an extremely complicated pregnancy, they almost lost their s/o and the baby, pls pls 🤧

I am no doctor so I would appreciate any corrections of errors I might have made. This might also be somewhat more extreme but I went with what I found on the internet.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, toxic relationship, abduction, manipulation, gaslighting, clinginess, controlling behavior, pregnancy, forced pregnancy, labor, high-risk pregnancy, premature labor, birth, cannibalism, illness, cardiac arrest, C-section

Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector

Extremely complicated pregnancy

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️A life with Reiji is thoroughly scheduled as he always needs to have control over every little thing in your life. The already tight leash you had on you only becomes tighter the moment you manage to get pregnant with his child. He oversees everything strictly in your life from that day on from the food you consume to the drinks you choose. He’s very adamant that you stay healthy and deliver him a healthy child. A child that he has been planning to have with you for a longer time now. He has read every available source, he has created a diet schedule for you and he feels validated in his speculation and research when you actually find yourself craving occasionally blood which he immediately provides you with since you carry a vampire baby. You normally refuse the consumption of blood from humans because you’re still human yourself which leads always to him forcing it past your lips and down your throat. Consider the health of your baby before being such an unreasonable and neglectful mother-to-be. His own mother always ignored him so Reiji is extremely dedicated to ensure that you are a good mother to his own child.

☕️The first few months of the pregnancy go rather well. Besides the common morning sickness, some headaches and mood swings the baby develops healthily inside your womb. Reiji monitors everything extremely closely and you have him checking on your condition and the condition of the little one almost daily. Whenever you lash out on him due to his restricting schedules, he always quickly puts you back in your place by sharply scolding you for your immature behavior. He's designing the nursery room for the baby, accompanies you whenever he deems that it's time for you to take a walk outside and get some fresh air. The baby starts visibly moving around and kicking your insides when you are 19 weeks along and from that day on Reiji even starts observing the movements of the baby because any lack of it or very frequent movements can also indicate whether the baby is feeling fine or not. He has even already chosen a handful of names although he decides to wait until the baby is born and he can see them for the first time.

☕It's within your fifth month that you start experiencing complications. There is an increase in your headache, you suffer from shortness of breath, your vision is blurry or you see dark spots dancing in front of your eyes and you also experience abdominal pain. You would like to think that this is normal but you can't deny that some of those symptoms scare you and the way Reiji's eyes narrow when you are forced to tell him about it only adds to your growing anxiety. When he runs some tests on you and realizes that your blood pressure is elevated, he starts getting worried. This shouldn't happen. He has always hated it when something didn't go according to his plan but your current pregnancy only heightens the stress he is feeling because right now he can't afford that anything goes wrong. The slight panic he initially feels manifests itself into accusations against you as he questions if you have done something that has caused your high blood pressure. His preparations should have been perfect. It is not his fault.

☕Soon he is too busy closely monitoring your increasingly worsening condition to put the blame on you though as your symptoms have worsened. Your vision randomly blurs or darkens, your headache has led to increased nausea and has made it difficult for you to stomach food, your hands and face have swollen and Reiji has even started suspecting that the blood supply to your placenta doesn't work as it should. The baby doesn't grow and develop as it should due to the lack of blood supply and with each passing week he starts worrying more and more about it. He tries everything he can think of to cease your dizziness and your nausea, the abdominal pain and the lacking blood supply to your placenta but nothing seems to really work. There is no medicine or cure to your symptoms and when Reiji realizes that he can't do anything, the only choice he is left with is trying to prolong the pregnancy long enough to guarantee the survival of his darling and his baby. He starts mentally preparing himself to perform a C-section on you if worst should come to worst.

☕The worst case scenario happens in your 33rd week when premature labor starts together with intense abdominal pain. You are weakened from weeks of dizziness, nausea and stress and the sheer exhaustion from labor proves too much for you as you faint after a few hours. This leaves Reiji with pretty much no choice but a Caesarean section, especially since the fetus is in breech position. Normally he would be pretty confident in his skills but there is too much on the line for him and this stops him from staying as level-headed as he would like. The little girl he pulls out from your womb during the surgery is worringly small even if she is a prematurely born baby. The most difficult step should have been overcome but instead dread fills him when he notices that she isn't breathing. Suddenly he feels like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders as he spends minutes trying to keep the baby alive until his daughter finally manages to breathe independently and starts weakly crying and even then he can't allow himself to relax. Neither you nor the baby are out of health risks after all.

☕You are quite weakened after the difficult pregnancy and the surgery and it takes you a few weeks until you feel somewhat healthy enough again to walk longer distances without any help and do certain tasks without experiencing any pain. Just because you can theoretically do it though doesn't mean by a long shot that Reiji will let you. He has become overly cautious after the birth. He's extremely skittish whenever he monitors the health of the baby due to her breathing issues upon birth and worried for any lasting damage she might have suffered due to her restricted development in your womb. You find yourself spending the first few weeks after the surgery mostly spending time with your daughter whilst Reiji is doing everything else. He monitors the health of his darling and their daughter, he cooks for his s/o and he assists whenever and however he can. He feels stressed out even after the condition of you and the baby stabilize because in his mind he can't stop agonizing over the fact that he could do little to nothing to help you in any way.

Carla Tsukinami

🔮If you wind up being Carla's darling and can biologically bear children, prepare yourself for giving him a child. Carla expects his darling to give him a healthy and strong heir and there will be no room for discussion. You will bear him his child and you will be a good and attentive mother to his baby. All of this happens only after Carla has already broken your mind down enough for you to be completely putty in his hold. Pregnancy is the final step, the final claim he can lay on you to mark you for all eternity as his and at that point you will happily accept his wish of wanting a baby with you. You love him after all and you're sure that you'll love a child with the same golden eyes as his just as much. It is extremely pleasing to see your quick embrace of the idea and he wastes very little time after he has told you about his plans to see it through that you are pregnant as soon as possible. It doesn't take long for him until he senses the new life deep within your womb. He couldn't be more pleased in that moment.

🔮Similar to Reiji, Carla will be very controlling as soon as he has confirmed that you are expecting his heir. You are always kept within his vicinity and you aren't allowed to go anywhere without informing him. He wouldn't want anything to happen to you, especially with his brother around. That rarely happens though as you are pretty obedient and listen to him which means that you allow him to lead you outside and go for a walk. You feel pretty sick quite often and spend a lot of time on the toilet whenever nausea grabs a hold of you. Shin has made fun of you once when he saw you hanging over the toilet which struck the wrong cord in you in that moment and actually led you to shed tears of shame. You only know that Carla wasn't too pleased when you started crying because of Shin and told you that he'd talk with his brother. Ever since Shin has been trying his best to not say anything within your presence although he looks like he has a lot of snarky stuff he could say. You spend a large amount of time only with Carla though, basking in his affection and joy due to your pregnancy.

🔮As soon as your bump really starts showing is when other symptoms start to appear. Your hunger increases significantly as soon as the baby bump shows and this makes it difficult for you since Carla has put you on a diet to keep you and the baby healthy. You have troubles keeping your temper under control when he initially always denies you your cravings but you try your best to stay quiet. Until the intense craving for blood starts one day and you start feeling sluggish and weak. That is when Carla starts paying more attention to your cravings. You’re only human, you would under normal conditions never want to consume blood. Is it the baby that makes you crave blood? He has obviously speculated how a pregnancy with a vampire baby would go for your mortal body but speculations don’t necessarily have to line up with the reality. He decides to give in to your new cravings this time as he notices how your energy gets drained. The blood seems to replenish your energy for a while.

🔮The bigger the baby swells though, the more it seems to drain your energy. You grow more tired and exhausted with each month that passes by no matter how much blood Carla lets you consume or how much you eat. Very little of the food you digest is actually used for your own energy as the baby seems to take all the nutrients it needs and leaves very little for you. You lose weight and feel dizzy and exhausted whilst the baby is thriving. Soon it starts getting so bad that you can’t even walk properly on your own anymore without the danger of collapsing. Carla has to assist you even when you go to the toilet and despite your weak protest and tears of shame, he doesn’t allow you anything anymore without his help. The baby sucks everything out of you, he can see your clear struggle everyday as your energy drops and your pain increases due to the heavy weight of the baby inside of you and its strong kicks that feel like it’ll burst out of you any moment. The closer you get to your due date, the weaker and thinner you become. This isn’t good.

🔮Miraculously you make it to your due date until your water breaks but it comes with a heavy price. You’re exhausted, you’re tired and you barely have any energy left to even push properly. All of this is made even worse by the fact that the baby has grown a lot whilst it was protected inside of you. They are big which makes the entire process even more arduous as your body tries its hardest to squeeze the infant out of your body and down your birth channel. When the shoulders of the baby get stuck though and prevent you from giving birth to the baby, everything takes quickly a turn for the worse. Nothing seems to help. That’s when Carla takes action, fully aware that being stuck could end up harming the baby. You can vaguely recall the burning feeling when he abruptly reaches his hand out into your vagina in an attempt to turn the baby around. It’s a painful and uncomfortable feeling that is the final push you need before you finally succumb to unconsciousness which leaves Carla alone to guide the baby out of your body.

🔮You suffer from a fourth-degree tear and malnutrition for weeks after birth which leaves you completely bedridden under Carla’s guidance. His son on the other hand suffered from fractures to his upper arm bone. All of this is rather upsetting and frustrating to Carla who didn’t expect a shoulder dystocia to occur during the birth of his own heir. He spends nearly all of his time in his chambers where he nurses you and the baby back to health. Shin rarely runs into his older brother for that reason. Every time he does spot Carla, he’s always tempted to ask him mockingly how you and his nephew are doing, considering that you went through all of this hell only because of Carla’s wish for an heir. The piercing glare Carla gives him whenever he opens his mouth to ask that question keeps him from doing so though. The younger Tsukinami brother isn’t allowed to visit you and the little boy either, especially not when neither of you has fully recovered. Until that day comes, no one will see you two.

Kibutsuji Muzan

🩸There have never been any records of demons and humans procreating. If there would have been, Muzan as the King of Demons would have known about it. Technically speaking he has no real need nor any interest in any children of his own. He doesn't need any heir for he is immortal and doesn't plan to ever give up his position to anyone else for he plans to become the perfect existence. Perhaps there is a spark of curiosity though as soon as he has you in his life as it is a thought that often crosses his mind when he dumps his cum inside of you. He has a fondness for science after all but none of it has ever led him to actively try for a baby with you. Then one day he senses the little heartbeat inside of you, senses the new life that has been spawned in your womb. Whilst he isn't actively thrilled about the pregnancy and might even consider an abortion, ultimately it is his scientific interest that manages to stop him from removing the thing from you. A part of him hopes that this child will be able to develop an immunity against the sun due to being only a half demon.

🩸Since Muzan has always gotten his way with you, you are left with little to no choice but accept his decision to keep the child for now. Your feelings about the little baby currently developing inside of you are confusing as you despise him for forcing you to keep it. Yet you bow down in fear whenever you are faced with his displeasure when he sees you expressing those feelings and thoughts in front of him. This little life inside of you has been directly created by him and perhaps this plays a large fact in why he won't tolerate you thinking about it in such a way. Because the baby will have more from him than any of the demons he has created throughout his entire life. Muzan views himself in the highest light, as a near god, so something that will have his genetics must be strong too. You don't seem to realize that your unwillingness to embrace the thought of having his child will only make him more determined to keep it since he won't allow you to reject something that has been directly created by him.

🩸Too prideful to show any lingering questions he has in regards of the unique biology his baby will have due to being created by a demon and a human, Muzan just monitors your pregnancy very closely. Partially because of his fascination to finally know that such a pregnancy will be like and partially because he doesn't know what might happen. It is this selfish mindset that soon leads you down a path of misery. Your body is unable to handle the creature inside your womb that seems to suck out all the energy and proteins meant for you whenever you force something down your throat despite your growing nausea. The growth spurt the baby has is abnormal for the first few months but all of this comes with the cost of your own decline of health. Everything is painful and everything is tiring and the little baby is incredibly strong starting from their first kicks. At this rate it is already far too late for Muzan to do anything. Through your pain and your exhaustion you sometimes bitterly blame him for what he puts you through but you never get any apology from him and you know exactly why. He would never admit it after all.

🩸Then everything suddenly stops though. The growth of your bump and the kicks and hits of the baby inside. There is suddenly no movement anymore at all and despite your not so positive feelings, you slowly start to worry about it. Your own condition isn't improving too greatly though as your food either gets thrown up by you or still seems to be received by the fetus instead. Muzan has already noticed it too. He can still sense the heartbeat within but to his own growing dread it seems to get weaker by the days. His mind is racing as to why and the steadily weakening condition of you and the baby only seem to be a reminder that the time he has to find a solution is limited. Eventually he starts considering that the baby you bear is technically still a demon too. He starts considering that the baby might have reached a phase within their development where the current food you consume isn't sufficient enough anymore. Maybe they need some human flesh. Even though you refuse when he first brings up his theory, Muzan doesn't care as he shoves it from that day on down your throat and to his satisfaction his idea was right.

🩸Yet he can't enjoy the fact that his theory was right for too long. Your body, unable to handle the large amount of energy and nutrition the baby steals from it, goes into premature and sudden labor in the seventh month. Neither of you two two are prepared for it and even the baby seems to be unhappy about your body giving up on them as they start making a ruckus inside your womb, only adding to the pain you are already feeling. Muzan is unable to calm the irritated baby down. Everything happens too fast for him to even prepare anything. Your body is in a rush to expel the baby from inside you and their frequent and wild movement only cause them to slide down your birth channel faster. The frequent activity of your baby soon comes to a hold though. Their umbilical cord got flattened and Muzan is met with deafening silence when the bloody infant lays in his arms. It is this silence that makes him suddenly lose his composure as the motionless child reminds him vividly of his own birth. Not his own child too. He spends minutes frantically reanimating the infant before she finally lets out her first weak cries.

🩸If your own condition should have worsened any more, Muzan probably would have turned you into a demon. Somehow your fragile body pulled through though and in a way he’s relieved about that. Because for now it would be more beneficial to let you stay human and care for the little girl you gave birth to. With her black hair and her red and bleary eyes she looks a lot like Muzan and perhaps it’s her visible similarity to him that fills his heart with pride. She recovers quicker than you from her troublesome birth, probably because she is half demon. Her appetite is as insatiable as it was during her time in your womb though and to your slight horror she still has her preferences to the taste of human blood and flesh together with your breastmilk. Muzan gives her what you don’t want to give her as he has realized that she probably needs the different nutrients to develop properly just like she needed whilst being in your belly. Now that the baby is born, he forbids you from expressing any hesitation and confusion when you’re taking care of her. This girl is his own flesh and blood and he won’t tolerate you not loving her who is so much like him.

Tsugikuni Yoriichi

☀️Pregnancy should be a joyful occasion for parents yet despite the expected happiness and joy Yoriichi feels when it becomes known that you are expecting his child, there is also a gnawing fear that haunts him. He can't help but recall the heart-wrenching fate that befell Uta and the unborn baby. Even if he has you now in his life, this is a memory he is unable to forget as he often still blames himself for their deaths through the hand of a demon. The slow growth of your bump triggers those haunting memories and sometimes he dreams of the same scene he saw when he returned home to Uta, only that it is now your body torn apart with the precious child murdered before it even had the chance to live. Yoriichi becomes very protective and paranoid over you as he doesn't think that he could bear a repeat of what has already once happened to him. There is always this underlying fear and paranoia that make him much more aware of his surroundings even as he rejoices when he witnesses the first kicks of his baby. His katana is always kept close, especially when night comes where he finds himself often lying awake.

☀️As winter is already awaiting, Yoriichi makes an effort to keep you warm and protected and your home as cozy as possible. He never leaves you as soon as the sun goes down as he now knows better. All tasks are usually finished within the day so that he can stay by your side and protect you as soon as it gets dark. Despite his efforts to always keep you warm and healthy though, you seem to catch a cold. It is nothing to be worried over though. You have a light headache, your throat hurts whenever you swallow and you cough. You are not really worried though and even assure Yoriichi that it'll pass by soon. Despite feeling already a bit more fatigued due to your pregnancy and now your illness, you still feel fine. You decide to stay inside nevertheless as he fetches you a doctor to monitor your condition. After all you know of his loss of his first pregnant wife so you try to make him feel better and calmer by letting a doctor tell him that you are fine and that you will be fit in a few days again. When Yoriichi returns with the doctor, you feel slightly febrile.

☀️What should have been only a mild cold soon turns into a serious condition though. Maybe it is because you are pregnant and are just more prone to bacteria yet such explanations do nothing to help Yoriichi's terrified heart. Despite your weak protests to leave the room so he doesn't catch what you have, he stays faithfully with you as your fever soon feels like it is burning your skin and sweat coats your skin. Every swallow is a small challenge as it brings you uncomfortable pain and you are often thrown into coughing fits, your throat coated with phlegm and constantly itching in a dry way. With your worse condition, Yoriichi has asked the doctor to come by every day. He does whatever he can do to help you. He cooks for you and feeds you even if you should have no hunger or simply feel too tired and he heads the advices of the doctor when giving you the medicine that should help your condition. His chest is tight with fear and worry as he feels anxious whenever he sees your bump and wonders how your sick body may also negatively impact the baby.

☀️Perhaps it is just his fate to watch helplessly as he loses everyone he loves in his life. First his brother, then Uta and his unborn child and now you and the baby you are carrying. Yoriichi can only watch helplessly how you grow weaker and weaker as the days pass by. Your lips are chappy and dry and your skin coated in ill sweat as your whole body is uncomfortably hot due to your fever. Yet even in this condition you try to soothe Yoriichi in his silent despair and promise him that it'll soon get better even as he has to support your weak body when you want to walk around. Your sick appearance always tears his heart apart, his sorrow growing by the day yet he tries to stay strong for you. But this thin threat snaps when your contractions start at only 30 weeks. His whole body is shaking and silent tears cascade down his face as a the doctor and a midwife he brought with him try their best to help you to deliver the baby. He feels small, insignificant and terrifyingly helpless as he stays by your side and with every scream and cry you let out he thinks he is more desrving of death for not being able to save anyone in his life.

☀️Even after you have made it through birth and have delivered a little boy does his torment continue. Your health plummets down after labor as your body is left severely weakened after the physical exertion that leaves you in a nearly unconscious state as you are too exhausted and sick to even leave. Your sickness soon spreads out to his newborn son and even if his heart is already tattered and torn enough, Yoriichi only continues to suffer. Wherever he goes, he is only reminded of his cursed fate. He spends his time either catering to your needs, his heart screaming whenever you ask in your weak condition for your son or he silently watches over the baby whose little body is desperately battling against the deadly cold. He is too terrified to fall asleep anymore at night, too afraid to wake up one morning to your cold body or to the motionless body of his baby. Instead he lays awake at night, his heart beating anxiously as he listens to your troubled breaths and the breaths of the little baby. Sometimes it becomes too much for him and he is left muffling his sobs with his hand at night.

☀️Many days pass before you finally start feeling better. You're still feeling slightly feverish but you are able to move by yourself anymore. Yoriichi, who is feeling an overwhelming urge to hug you, kiss you and show you how grateful he is that you are still alive, has to hold himself back as you aren't fully cured yet and still need recovery. You're finally able to interact with your son and the sight of you holding the child that both of you created is a small remedy for his bruised and broken heart, even if the baby is also still sick. He slowly starts recovering though together with you as he receives all the love and care he could possibly get from you, Yoriichi and the doctor. It still takes weeks until his son as well as you are fully recovered and well again and for the first time in a while he feels like he can see the light again. Despite his own exhaustion and tiredness from all his fear he is especially attentive and loving with you and his little son. He just wants the both of you to know how much it really means to him that both of you are still alive and with him.

#yandere diabolik lovers #yandere dl #yandere reiji #yandere reiji sakamaki #yandere carla #yandere carla tsukinami #yandere demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere muzan #yandere kibutsuji muzan #yandere yoriichi #yandere tsugikuni yoriichi

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lazycats-stuff · 2 months

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Pls Fluff with Tim x m!Reader

The rear pulled some all nighters and surprised Tim with all his finished work so he can finally rest for more than just 1 hour. Tim is like"thank you so much more come sleep with me" and they both cuddle and obviously the reader falls asleep first so now Tim is watching them sleep and just thinking about how lucky he is

Sure... Some love to Tim. Sorry for taking this long to write this. I know it's short, but I can't write much anymore. School is kicking my ass... I hate school.

Summary: (Y/N) helps Tim rest.

Warnings: fluff, tired couple, Tim adores (Y/N), I need sleep too, I lowkey want a Tim in my life.

Tim is notorious for pulling all nighters and just not sleep for a few days before just crashing somewhere in the manor. Well, he moved out of the manor with his boyfriend. (Y/N) and Tim knew each other for a long time and Tim got some courage to ask (Y/N) out in high school. The two have been going strong for 3 years now and the two has decided to move out.

(Y/N) and Tim searched high and low during their college days and it wasn't an easy feat, since they had decided to move out during the college years, the time when everyone is flat out broke. Tim and (Y/N) didn't want Bruce to intervene, because they wanted to do this on their own.

Also, (Y/N) was scared every night for his boyfriend. (Y/N) knew that Tim was Red Robin from the year 2 of their relationship. It was a stressful week after the big revelation, because the problem wasn't Tim being Red Robin.

The question was whether or not (Y/N) would see Tim. If Tim would make it back alive. But as the time went on, (Y/N) would get more at ease and that stress would slowly disappear, knowing that Tim would come back to him no matter what happened that night on patrol.

Tim would always make it back to (Y/N). That was something that Tim promised to (Y/N) when he told (Y/N) his secret identity. He would always make it back, even telling his boyfriend that he would crawl through hell through hell just to come back to (Y/N).

That put (Y/N) at ease and the feeling of anxiety slowly faded, but it was still present, but not so intense.

But there was one thing that (Y/N) didn't like. The fact that Tim didn't sleep normally due to patrol is one thing. But your night off of patrol can't be used to work too and then sleep for 20 to 30 minutes during the day. (Y/N) was very worried about it and he has decided to do something about it.

And (Y/N) may not be a detective like Tim is, but he can certainly going to try. So, once Tim was on patrol (Y/N) tried to get some work done, but was stopped by the complexity. He knew Tim is a smart man and that he does a lot of complex stuff...

But this is nuts with how complex it is. (Y/N) snooped more through the laptop and found something very simple... But... It would take him all night.

But for Tim?

He would do it without a single complaint, even more when he knew that Tim could rest and not mix coffee with Red Bull. So, (Y/N) got to work and he did work through the entire night.

Now, Tim was going to be in for a surprise when he comes back from patrol this morning.

Tim came back at 7 am, tired, but knowing that he needed to do some work. (Y/N) on the other hand was beyond exhausted from the all-nighter and was now waiting for Tim to check his laptop to see that the work for today was done. He watched from the couch, curious about his reaction.

Tim sat down and checked his laptop, getting ready to do his work... But it's all completed? Tim furrowed his brows in confusion. Who did this?

Tim look at (Y/N), who smiled in return from the couch.

" Did you pull an all-nighter for me? " Tim asked quietly, knowing that (Y/N) didn't like all-nighters. He loves his sleep and has never pulled an all-nighter.

" I did. " (Y/N) said before yawning, covering his mouth with his hand.

" Love... Did you do it for me...? " Tim asked quietly and (Y/N) nodded.

Tim closed his laptop and walked over to (Y/N). He cupped his face and gave him a big kiss on the lips. (Y/N) laughed into the kiss and allowed Tim to give him a big smooch.

" You pulled an all-nighter for me? " Tim whispered against (Y/N)'s lips, a smile tugging on his lips.

" I did. " (Y/N) whispered back, smiling too.

" You hate all-nighters. " Tim said and moved some hair out of (Y/N)'s eyes.

" Yeah, but you need rest. " (Y/N) said, leaning into Tim's touch.

" Oh love... Come on, lets sleep. You need it. " Tim said quietly and helped (Y/N) stand up, before leading him to their bedroom. He gently laid (Y/N) down and he made sure the room was dark before tucking (Y/N) in bed and then, finally he joined him.

He made sure (Y/N) was warm and he hugged him tightly, making sure he slept well. (Y/N) fell asleep quickly, probably the moment his head hit the pillow.

Tim smiled at that sight and watched his boyfriend sleeping. Not everyone would sacrifice their sleep for their partner. And knowing how (Y/N) hated all-nighters and valued his sleep, the gesture was nothing but amazing.

His boyfriend was amazing.

Tim always knew that his boyfriend was an amazing person. Kind and understanding to his crazy and chaotic schedule, not to mention, could handle his crazy family. Damian is the most insane one out of the fam and he managed to befriend him. Not to mention, Alfred approved.

Bruce was very happy that Tim started dating in general. Everyone was shocked, but soon realized that (Y/N) was an angel sent from above to Tim.

Of course, we are talking metaphorically, but mostly it was real. Why? (Y/N) made sure Tim got at least two hours of sleep, made sure to make him drink water...

And he motivated Tim to take care of himself more. So, one hell of a positive thing.

Tim agreed with the fact that (Y/N) is an angel from above, the one who cared about Tim for Tim. Not for money and notoriety and fame. Tim watched the still sleeping (Y/N) and smiled widely.

He is truly the luckiest guy on Earth. He thought about marrying (Y/N) and he started looking for an engagement ring even. Bruce and the others told him to go for it.

He would love nothing more than to marry (Y/N), his love. His light. His darling. Tim sighed quietly as he looked at his beloved boyfriend, who was completely out. Like a light.

Tim leaned down and kissed (Y/N)'s head, before laying down himself and falling asleep quickly. Maybe he needed this. Maybe he needed (Y/N) in his life...

Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it was fate who brought them together.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader

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theangelcatalogue · 2 months

Text

WHAT'S WRONG? || YANDERE FRANCIS X READER! || ★!

★ - Romantic or Platonic(?)!

★ - Gender Neutral reader!

★ - One shot!

★ - Before we start: Idk why i did this, but i saw fics of him, and people going crazy over him, so why not?? I don't even write for that's not my neighbour, but i love the game! So let' go! Also sorry if is confusing! My mind is kinda tired and idk why i wrote this at 1AM(Is i wrote this at 1AM, remade some parts and posted it at 2AM) (Pls check Tw before reading it! <3)

★ - TW: YANDERE, DOPPELGANGER, BLOOD, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!

˚๑ ✦ Y/N!!! ✦ ๑°

・・・ ★ ・・・

︶ ꒷ ︶ ꒷ ꒦

Just a normal day in work!

This work is not that bad, i mean, i have to focus in every single neighbor, check some papers and be careful because some of than can be actually doppelgangers that will kill me and the persons that live here? Yeah-

But is guess i am getting used to it! And some neighbors are really nice! And others are just weird and rude! But what i can do? People are like that!

It's kinda weird that no one is showing up now, but i can have some time to rest now! Just me, a good coffee and my jornal/book(it can be a jornal or a book!)

Now i am just reading, waiting for anyone, i mean the today's list is short today! Lucky me i guess? I get kinda focused in the reading, the content is kinda depressing and boring, but is what i have for now

" Hello Y/n. "

I heard someone saying, Oh! I can't forget this voice!

" Francis! Tired as always? Well, let's see if you are in todays list! "

I said not taking the eyes of my jornal/book, i am lucky that Francis is the one who showed up! He is kinda nice! Just a tired guy but hey! He is a hardworker!

" Sounds good for me. Here is my entry request and ID "

I could notice him giving the papers, now i notice his hand is kinda dirty and his voice is kinda off, more tired than usual...

" Oh! Thanks- "

I respond him finally taking my eyes of the book, now i can see Francis better let's say, he is covered in a red liquid with a weird smell

It is what i am thinking? Oh yeah! A doppelganger! But i never thought a doppelganger would commit a error like that, why blood...? Some are a missing eye, others just say peach and others are a long neck and etc, what if is not a doppelganger...?

" What's wrong Y/n? Something wrong about the papers? "

He says noticing that i am kinda nervous, i just pick the papers and the clickboard as usual, first thing to question?

His looks.

" Francis! What happend? You are corvered in...what is that? Can you explain? "

Francis just looks at his outifit and then back at me, the same tired look, but something about the way he looks at me is different, i can't tell what is

" Oh this? It's a new milk! Scarlett Milk! It's a Milk with Red coloring, and Yes, it's food coloring! Not used in clothes... "

" Really Francis? So tell me! How did you got corvered in...Scarlett Milk...? "

He was getting tired of me questioning i guess, okay, i have three options!

1. It's really a milk with food coloring

2. It's a doppelganger

3. Francis is a killer or just got crazy

Please let it be 1-

" Accident at work. Just that, can i go in? "

He asks me looking at me deep at the eyes, i feel like he is judging all my sins, i break the eye contact and look at the Red button and then at the phone

Should i call the police or my boss?

" Look Y/N, i am really tired, just let me in, so i can go take a shower and rest. Maybe after you are done, you can go to my room, drink some coffee together! I heard is your favorite drink, what about a coffee with milk uh? "

He says to me, i think he is getting impatient

OH REALLT Y/N L/N!? DON'T TELL ME

" I- "

" Come on darling. "

He gets closer to the window, supporting his one of his arms in the glass

" Let. Me. In "

✦ - NOTES!!!

✮ " Sky wtf was that? " I DON'T KNOW LOL ✮

✮ The fandom go crazy about him gosh ✮

✮ Okay should i write for TNMN??? ✮

✮ Anyways have a good day my loves! <33 ✮

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carowleysposts · 2 months

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Good Omens makes me feel scary things. Let’s talk about it.

So, before I start, I think it’s important to clarify that I am neurodivergent. I have autism and GO is one of my strongest hyper-fixations ever. I am so emotionally and mentally invested in it I could talk about it for days on end and every single detail of this show makes me love it more.

But there’s a really really dark flip side to this love, and I would love to see if there’s anyone else who struggles with it too:

I think I care a little too much.

Although I am aware that this is somewhat “common” for people in the spectrum and my doctors all have confirmed I am not a complete nut case for it, I almost never feel comfortable admitting to those in my life that a piece of fiction has such a strong hold on me and my mental health. And as much as I love everything we’ve seen so far, all the little things I hear and read about season three give me heart-stopping waves of anxiety that are definitely not normal.

Like, I am constantly scared of what will happen, as if it was happening to me. And I know it’s embarrassing, but my brain is simply wired differently, and it feels so awful not being able to talk about it with my friends in real life.

Sometimes I feel like my day is ruined because I read someone say that they think S3 won’t have a happy ending, or that they probably won’t kiss or end up together or something bad like that. And even though I know it’s just fiction, it gives me stomach knots, as it is such a powerful part of my life and I think about is so much.

I have even come as far as to take breaks from Tumblr and mute some words on some social media platforms so that I won’t read Neil’s responses to questions - because they ALSO make me fear terribly and give me crippling anxiety, like when he said it won’t be romantic, or when he says stuff that make me worry for the future - and won’t hear speculation or even be reminded of other stuff people say.

And before anyone asks: Yes! I am fully aware it sounds absurd. And yes, i absolutely do feel crazy and embarrassed about it, but unfortunately this is the reality of many people in the spectrum and many neurodivergent people in general.

I do work, I am a ballet teacher and an author, so of course I have many other things to worry about and do and of course I have a life full of responsibilities and relationships and different pursuits to keep me from actually thinking about it nonstop. But still, even though I am busy and distracted most of the time, every now and then these feelings and worries come and punch me in the gut, and it completely paralyzes me for long moments. I feel kinda sick? I don’t know.

So I guess what I am trying to ask is: do you guys know of anyone who feels the same? Like, is there anyone else who feels like their mind has been absolutely taken over by fiction-related anxiety? And also: what should I do about it? I feel like absolutely no other piece of fiction compares to this one, and my mind simply won’t stop.

Help pls.

#good omens #aziracrow #neil gaiman #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #gomens #angel #gomens s2 #prime video #anthony j crowley #crowleys bentley #aziraphale x crowley

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januaryrabbit · 12 days

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seventeen with a tall s/o who flusters them!! (๑>◡<๑)

pairing: svt x gn!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild cursing because i can’t be normal

other disclaimers/notes: author teasing/poking fun at svt LOL, barely proof read because i am sleepy and its 2am

a/n: hi everyone, I'M FINALLY BACK WITH ANOTHER POST lmao~ hope you all enjoy and THANK YOU MY TALL 😈 ANON HANNIE STAN FOR REQUESTING!! <3 i have more things in the works that i want to post soon, some svt, ateez and nct dream~ pls stay tuned, but for now enjoy!!!

✩‧₊˚seungcheol: SULK!!!!!!!!!!y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he will still try to protect you He Does Not Care. every time you get flirty with him he just starts pouting like “why are you treating me like this im a grown man…” kinda thing. he will literally try to reach things for you even though he can’t like he’s actively trying to beat you to the punch constantly LMAO!!!! he back hugs you a lot, and you just stand there awkwardly like “pls let me hug you, arent you uncomfortable with your face against my back???” and hes like “No im perfectly fine like this, i just want to give my s/o a hug thanks.” and hes like SO serious. it is actually is kinda uncomfy for his neck tho so after a while he gives in and lets you hug him LOL, but he;s not happy about it >___> (he is!)

✩‧₊˚jeonghan: this man lies for fun………..he messes with people like it’s his JOB…………so when his tall s/o flusters him he tries his BEST to just try to do it back. HOWEVER unbeknownst to you, jeonghan his having a fucking existential crisis over this in his mind. every time you tease him, it sends him into a spiral, questioning his entire god damn life. jeonghan literally lays down in bed one day after hanging out with you and he’s like “this feeling…………what is it……………………my face……..why is it WARM……………” he will literally google (in incognito mode. can’t have the bros seeing this after all) “what does it mean when you feel shy-embarrassed-butterflies in your stomach” because he this feeling is FOREIGN to him!!!!! once he realizes that this is what it means to be flustered he’s just like “oh my god. who have i BECOME!!!!!!!!!!!” and then his eyes widen. “am i the babygirl??????”

✩‧₊˚joshua: i feel like if it’s applicable to the situation, joshua is going to do everything in his power to try to repeat the gesture back to you to fluster you back. i swear to god joshua makes your relationship the Flustering Olympics. he will try to outdo you at any turn. one time you ruffled his hair and he was like You know what. and then he reached up to ruffle YOUR hair!!!! you kiss his cheek, he’ll reach back up to give you one too. he refuses to be the only one who’s constantly feeling shy and mushy - it’s gross and not fair.

✩‧₊˚jun: he is STRUGGLING…..like. i feel like he’s oblivious to your teasing at first, like why are they always reaching to get stuff for me….what’s up with all the headpats??? do they think I’M ACTUALLY A CAT?????? i feel like jun would just straight up ask you that unprompted. like “y/n we need to talk, why do you keep petting me and pinching my cheeks, do you think im a real cat we need to get you checked out grandma.” and youre literally like WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LIKE ACTUALLY, I JUST THINK YOU[RE CUTE AND SMALL………..anyway he gets real embarrassed after you say that and just accepts the babygirl title that has been thrust upon him

✩‧₊˚hoshi: he is the babygirl of seventeen so he is absolutely RELISHING in this. he will let you do whatever you want with him and he even plays into it too like tbh i think hoshi likes being taken care of even though hes part of hyung line and the performance leader :3 bro is giggling every time you lean down to pinch his cheeks or use his head as an arm rest lmao. this is his world and you’re just in it !!! always asks you to take pics of him when you;re out doing things together, and always gives you picture credit in his captions lol. is the type to drunk text you asking you to pick him up and drive him home from drinking with the boys, and is super clingy to you as you both say your goodbyes to everyone. yeah if you treat him as such, this guy will become a domestic baby girl for you LMFAO

✩‧₊˚wonwoo: quietly flustered at all times. this guy unironically does NOT know how to fcking react when you tease him like this….he’s seriously the type to be like “y/n stop this is seriously bad for my heart wtf” like one time you leaned down and kissed his cheek and he just froze. he was convinced that for a min he was Actually Not Breathing. he’s the type who’s always like ahhh why are they so cute… whenever you tease him…he’s literally so down bad for you!!! btw every time you ruffle his hair or make it known in some way that he’s smaller than you he will without fail crinkle his nose in embarrassment and shyness lol

✩‧₊˚woozi: angry cat vibes from this man. i have a feeling you two would have a tom/jerry type relationship where woozi WILL NOT tolerate you patting his head, bending down to his eye level, and ruffling his hair. he is a grown man. he might need your help to reach some groceries, but YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT and HE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN IT OFF THE SHELF IF HE COULD. i feel like woozi may be one of the only members who would have to ask you to tone it down maybe and not tease him as much LOL. of course he appreciates you and likes affection, but i just think woozi would be like -___- i can take care of myself y/n -__- i can also take care of U y/n -___- let me take care of us -____-

✩‧₊˚minghao: a warmhearted man who just genuinely appreciates the gestures you display for him. sometimes will ask you to reach things for him first just because he knows you’ll do it and it just makes him feel cared for. doesn’t really get flustered per se, but i think he his heart would melt every time you show him any kind of affection :) i think he’s the type to appreciate his partner taking the initiative an equal amount in the relationship, so i think he’d be pretty happy w you doting on him a bit lol. he doesn;t realize your intention is to fluster him at all and you end up never telling him because the look of love he has when you pinch his cheeks is worth anything

✩‧₊˚dk: he’s literally svt #1 dude kisser like HE’S usually the one causing people to blush,,,,,......if someone behaved that way toward him, i think he would die because i don;t think dk 100% understands how easily he catches people off guard with his physical affection!!! so like when it happens to him he’s just like OH MY GOD IS THIS HOW WOOZI FELT WHEN I KISSED HIM………….i feel like if you bent down to kiss his cheek suddenly he would become quiet af and suddenly can’t look you in the eyes LMAO like YOU KILLED HIM!! HE’S DEAD!!! btw he reacts this way every single time

✩‧₊˚mingyu: mingyu is puzzled. he wasn’t aware that these emotions were ones he would ever experience. he recalls seungkwan scolding him in the past for purposely doing things to fluster girls (i.e. flexing his muscles to people at the gym, flashing his smiles at baristas when theyre getting coffee, etc), and he never understood why seungkwan always told him to stop behaving like that until he started dating you. being constantly doted on like his was literally killing him…he;s never been on the receiving end of playful teasing like this before, and he;s literally so shy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

✩‧₊˚seungkwan: he is crisis….he wakes up everyday looking in the mirror and is like “you will NOT get flustered today. you WILL be normal, and unphased, even if they kiss your forehead.” and everyday he fails himself. every time you hand him a mug from the top shelf, every time you slink an arm around him, every back hug you give him, he can’t help how warm his face gets - it’s actually kind of annoying how much of an affect you have him. one time he was thinking about the sudden cheek kiss you gave him before work while pouring himself a glass of water and it literally began to overflow. seungkwan remembers that day as a particular sickening reaction to your tomfoolery….

✩‧₊˚vernon: lmao i feel like the first time you like give vernon a headpat in his mind he’s just like “oh shit why am i getting nervous, i didn;t know i was into this lmao” dfjsdklfjsd. like every time you fluster him hes just pleasantly surprised and goes along with it because he kinda likes being the one taken care of. i’d say that he gets flustered most of the time you try to get a reaction out of him, but sometimes when his tolerance is particularly high, he’s able to flirt back to fluster you too. i think the longer you two have been together, the easier it is to throw back that behavior at you LOL. i feel like you both are always teasing each other and laughing all the time ~___~

✩‧₊˚dino: a BABY GIRL WHO WON’T ADMIT IT!!! bro talks a big talk to his friends about how he isn’t a kid anymore and how he’s a grown man now and yayayayayyayaya. but the moment you headpat him, he’s reduced to a blushy mess. i think if you reached down to boop his nose, he would literally Die on Impact. like. he really thinks he’s normal and the more dominant one in the relationship but lean down to make eye contact with him or rest your head on top of his and he will fucking pass away. after the initial resistance, i think hes someone else who would relish in being babygirl, but only in private!!!! there are things his hyungs do NOT need to know…………………..

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randombush3 · 2 months

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a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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sinsofsummers · 1 year

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cool about it

3.4k | boston!joel miller x f!reader

summary: it’s that day again. you don’t know why joel’s so withdrawn, but you help him manage it in the best way you know how. based on 'cool about it' by boygenius. warnings: angst angst angst, angsty smut (sorry), 18+, mdni, implied age gap (joel 50s, reader late 20s) grumpy & sad joel, drug use, alcohol use, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, shoulder kisses, pet names & slight praise, body worship kind of, feelings but also joel is bad at feelings, established...situationship. thing. pining (but don't tell them that). romance?? how dare you accuse them of such treachery note: i am so sorry...this is pure unbridled self-indulgence. pls forgive me. also this is set in boston qz, reader and joel have a similar relationship to the one he has with tess, but she doesn't exist in this au (i'm so sorry). also i am kind of so proud of this one

It's been years since you met him, since you've begun to crack his otherwise hard exterior, helping him shed every icy layer to reveal the tired, aging man beneath it all. You've both gone to unbelievable lengths to protect one another against any trouble, or enemy, or plague, that has cast itself in your way. Each night concludes with your limbs tangled together, hands tucked safely within each other's reach. A promise, so quiet it's hardly binding—I've got you.

You've never defined exactly what it means when he calls you sweet pea, or when his lips drop a chaste kiss to your forehead in the morning, or when his hand lingers on your elbow a little longer than normal in the QZ. It never needed to mean anything, so the two of you never spoke about it. You belong to him; he belongs to you.

And yet, every year, on the exact same morning, Joel Miller wakes up a stranger to you. His eyes return to the icy dark depths that you met him with, and his hands find purchase in his pockets rather than absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin. Every year, without fail, he retreats to his past, a place he won't ever let you see, despite your every wish.

i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask

A few years after you met him, you had tried asking him to explain, to let you into his head. It wasn't an attempt at intimacy, or a vulnerability that resembled anything that you hadn't seen from him before, but he'd done nothing more than shake his head.

"M'fine," he'd said. The entire day, every time you asked, no matter how softly, his answer remained unchanged. "Don't feel much like talkin'."

So instead of talking, you'd resorted to letting him come back to you on his own time, in his own way. With rough hands pushing you down to lay on your back, his eyes far away even as he brought you to the edges of bittersweet ecstasy. His kisses were always softer, more distracted. But it was the only communication you ever got out of him on those days.

When he rolled over at night, his hands curled into loose fists, you let him be. He never refused your touch, but you knew enough to recognize when it wouldn't come as any comfort to him. Not on those nights. Never on those nights.

The closest you'd get to falling asleep in his arms on those nights was with a hand placed purposefully between your chest and his back, just close enough that he might lean into it, should he shift in his sleep. And in those soft brushes of skin against cloth lay a million questions.

Forgive me, you'd begged inwardly one night. Forgive me for not understanding, and I'll forgive you for not sharing.

When the sun rose on a new morning, he was always back to the man you were used to, that you had grown dependent on. When his hands reached for you, and when his mouth painted swirls on your chest, you knew that it was out of want for you, not to distract himself from the ghosts of his own past.

He always praised your body's reaction to him, and you always relished in the way that his hips rocked against yours, stretching you out for him—tongue, fingers, his hard intrusion—on those mornings after.

You'd left it at that, for a year or two.

once i took your medication to know what it's like

He'd been resorting to more intense solutions when you decided to do it. When that day came as it always did, you watched as he drowned out the hours with whiskey and pills. You never knew where his supply came from or who was responsible for getting him his drug of choice; you could only sit idly by and watch his features droop from the effects of the dangerous combination, shuffling to your shared bed before he'd pass out until the sun rose on the next morning.

It only took three instances of this before you'd resolved to go through the day exactly as he would, as if it might help you understand. Perhaps it wasn't anything you were meant to understand, but you'd grown weary of seeing him motionless for hours on end. Usually, you never said anything. You didn't really believe he would take enough to cause any real damage; you were blindly faithful in his will to live.

"Joel," you'd said one year. That was all. One syllable, so familiar, and yet it bled with enough warning in your tone that he paused. Don't.

Glass raised, the rim already pressed to his lips—the lips of which you knew every crack and curve—pills already dissolving on his tongue, he'd paused. His eyes never looked at you, though. He sat there, frozen but for the whiskey sloshing gently in the glass before he resumed, swallowing the dark liquid in one go. With hardly a glance in your direction, he'd collapsed to the bed.

You didn't know exactly why you did it, or why it had been that year that you'd become fed up, but you couldn't ignore the fear that struck your chest when you saw him hit the mattress. Before you knew it, you'd swallowed the pills, scowling at the burn of whiskey down your throat.

It had never been your choice of liquor, but you braved the sting in your foolish hopes that it might tell you something about the gray-haired man in your bed. Like drinking his whiskey might envelope you in his arms and whisper his secrets to you.

Laying down beside him, you'd curled up to his side. He was already deep in his drugged slumber; he wouldn't be conscious enough to move from your touch. With a hand on his chest, poised over his heart to reassure yourself that he still had one, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy press of sleep.

When he woke, saw your own empty glass and pill bottle left open on the table, he shook you until you startled awake. Eyes bleary, the effects of the drugs wearing off, you caught him staring down at you, his nose brushing your cheek and his lips a hair's breadth from touching yours.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again, sweet pea," he snarled, but his words held no malice. You tried to ignore how big his eyes were, pupils blown wide.

You'd wanted to snap at him, to tell him the same thing, but you heard the desperate begging in his voice. The unspoken please. So rather than causing a scene, you'd nodded slowly and let your fingers brush the hem of his shirt. "Okay," you'd whispered. "I won't. Never again, Joel," you repeated, a mantra as you slipped your hands underneath his shirt.

Sliding his arms under your body and pulling you to him, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, both of your eyelids. He finally bent to your lips, chasing the taste of you and finding only his own mistakes on your tongue.

The day had passed. He had survived. With the gentle lull of his hips slotting against your own, he had breathed shakily into your mouth as your hands wandered along his skin. Like clockwork, Joel Miller had returned to you, if only for a short while.

i ask you how you're doing, and i let you lie

One day, the pills ran out. The whiskey didn't do anything on its own, so Joel was stuck to find something else to distract him. Whether you were the one that flushed his pills or found who was supplying him, you'd never admit. It was much too close to a confession of something than either of you were comfortable with, so you'd stayed quiet. Helped him find a new vice.

These days, you've lost count of how many years you've seen him withdraw into himself, a shell of the man you know. You've stopped trying to follow where his mind goes when the sun rises on that early autumn day, and he's never made the attempt to explain. For just one day a year, the two of you are silent except for a few mumbled words. Your hands rarely touch on those days, always a few centimeters from each other as he sits at the table.

A reminder. That you're there, that he's there, and that the day will pass. It always does.

His new vice becomes you before long, and you can manage that. He's never particularly rough on those days, anyway; he just needs your body to distract his mind. It takes him a bit to sink into the comfort of your curves, but you always help him get there. Until he's twitching under your hands and letting his eyes flutter closed as you expertly undo his jeans.

You never make him fuck you when he's like this, but you're happy to oblige when he slips a hand between your thighs, reaching for your core and always finding it ready for him. If it pleases him, you let him take whatever he needs.

With whispered moans that make your chest constrict and rough fingers pressing bruises to your hips that he'll kiss away the next morning, he gets through the day.

Today, you know it's not one of those mornings. He's already been awake for a while when you open your eyes, based on his tense posture as he sits on the edge of the bed. He's facing the window, which means his back is to you, withholding his face from yours.

Of course, you don't need to look at him to know what his face will look like. His chin is tucked toward his chest, and his eyes will be closed, hands clenched together as if in prayer. But you know better than to think of Joel Miller as a spiritual man. Whatever faith he might have had all those years ago has withered into scraps. His only faith is in your constant presence in his bed each night.

You sit up slowly, and the sound of rustling sheets makes him twitch his head to the side, the sight of his jaw ticking the only acknowledgement of you being there. With slow movements, you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his hips but never close enough to touch. He's gotten better at allowing for a few more moments of contact, and you think this means he's making progress.

How could you ever be sure, though? When he still won't reveal the pain of today?

"Did you wake up to see the sunrise?" you ask gently, leaning forward and bracing your hands in front of you, waiting. His response will determine how you'll distract him for the coming hours.

As usual, Joel doesn't say anything, but his back reclines an inch. It's all you need.

"I'll bet it was real pretty," you continue, trying to keep your voice soft. This is one of your many routines; you lift your hands and press them to his back, just enough for him to feel your fingertips. You don't know if he listens to anything you say, or if he even cares. This part is just for you. This is how you get through these days.

You lean just a bit further, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. Your hands slide around his middle and your stomach flips selfishly at the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your featherlight touch. Reaching down for his lap, you rest your palm against his jeans, feeling him twitch against your hand. There he is.

Maybe it's sad, maybe it's fucked up, but fuck what anyone else would say. This is what he needs, the only thing that helps him stay out of his nightmarish memories, whatever they may be. You'll never ask him to show that side of himself, not anymore.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you deftly work the button on his jeans, pushing the zipper down and reaching into his waistband until his half-hard cock comes free. It rests heavy in your hand, and you're comforted by the weight of it. His shoulders are too broad for you to see it, but you're not bothered by this. With another kiss, this one landing on the soft skin of his neck, you give him a languid stroke.

Joel's chest rises and falls as he breathes, and you can feel his arousal stirring as he grows firmer in your grip. His hands begin to unclench, but his fingers remain flat on his tights, never touching you outside of where your legs are hooked to his, your chest flush with his back.

The room is silent except for his breathing, every second getting more shallow. You can feel the tension in his back release a little, and you let your thumb rub a slow circle over the slit on his tip, precum just starting to leak onto your hand.

You stay like this for a few minutes, one arm wrapped around his stomach and your other hand on his cock, tugging slow enough not to overwhelm him, and fast enough to keep him pulsing in your hand.

Only when his hips buck involuntarily do you let go, moving from your place behind him to the floor. Your knees hit the wood hard, but you ignore the pain as your hands slide up his thighs.

His own hands remain still on his jeans, and he lets you interlock your fingers with his own. A small mercy. Today might not be as bad as the years before, and you dip your head to lick a stripe from base to tip before closing your mouth around the head of his cock.

Joel's fingers twitch in your grasp, and you squeeze back, hardly noticeable. Just enough to act as thanks. Thank you for letting me do this. For you.

You never look up, afraid of what his eyes will betray when your mouth is around him. You know this is only a distraction, a slow respite from his thoughts. So you ignore the impatient pulse between your thighs and take him as deep as he'll go, your hopes lifting when you hear his shaky sighs.

One of his hands released yours and lands on your head, smoothing your hair as his hips fight to keep still. Your head bobs up and down, your spit mixing with his precum to leave a shining mess on his shaft.

He pats your head softly, the wet sounds of your mouth on him the only noise in the room. But then he's opening his mouth, and he's combing his fingers through your hair, and he's mumbling, "thank you, sweet pea," just quiet enough that you think you're imagining it.

Maybe you did. He doesn't say it again, and you don't look up to see how wrecked he looks. You're content to remain on your knees the entire day if it means he can relax, let go of whatever's haunting him.

But then he's pulling your head back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. Hands under your arms, he tugs you to stand in front of him. This time you do let yourself look at him, but his eyes don't lift to meet yours. He tugs your shorts and panties from your body, and once you step out of them he splays his hands on the backs of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

His head is still tipped toward where your bodies rest against each other, rocking your pelvis against the length of his cock with a shuddering sigh. But you don't mind the view; you sit just a few inches taller than him in this position, so you can brace yourself against his shoulders, your chin resting against the top of his head.

He reaches down to rub a few quick circles on your clit, and you let him move your hips when he's ready, lodging his cock at your entrance. You're dripping, you have been this entire time, but you'd shoved down the heady desire that had punched its way through your body until he was ready. Now, with his hand guiding his tip into your sopping cunt, you let out a breath. There he is, a voice in your head repeats.

He pushes your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace, your pussy swallowing every inch of him, the sounds of your moans colliding at the feeling. "So good to me," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sternum and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Perfect."

You know that he doesn't think he deserves your praise, but you give it to him anyway. "That's it," you hum, squirming with his cock buried to the hilt. It's all you can do not to lift your hips and drag yourself up and down his length. "Take what you need, Joel."

He never lasts long when he can feel your walls squeezing his cock for all it's worth, your body betraying you when your mind just wants to remain warm and wet and ready for him all day long, until he's ready to be done with you. But with one look at you, his dark eyes finally connecting to yours, he blinks. "Thank you, sweat pea," he murmurs again.

You lift your thumb to his forehead and you trace the lines on his weathered skin, watching as your touch releases the tension from his face. All that's left is his desire, his need for you, however distracted it may be.

Joel lets himself enjoy this, as he rocks his hips into yours, the head of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you until you're shaking in his hands, forehead tipped against his as you let your moans fill the space between the two of you. He lifts your hips, pulling you nearly all the way off of him until he shoves you back down, the delicious squelch of your pussy on his cock wrenching a knee-buckling groan from his lips. "Where?" he asks, as he does every time.

You don't need to tell him, but you do. "Fill me up, Joel," you coo, a shot of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body. "Come with me, I'm right here with you."

"That's it, darlin'," is all he groans before he's wrapping his arms around your back, tugging your chest to him in a tight embrace. His face disappears into the space between your breasts and you feel his entire body quiver with yours as you reach your peak. Warmth floods your core as he spills his release into you, your walls fluttering with the intensity of your orgasm. You pull him to you, returning his near-painful embrace.

You're as close as lovers, as close to one another as you can physically get, but it'll never be enough.

The high after he comes inside you is fleeting. Only a few minutes pass before the line inevitably returns to his brow and his frown deepens after he softens. He doesn't lift you off of him, though, so you soak up the feeling while you can.

"Better?" you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He nods slowly after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "Always," he mumbles gently, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your mouth to the first knuckle, letting you taste salt and old sweat and your nectar on his skin.

You know better than to believe him, but you don't argue. Not today, never today. So you lift the corners of your lips in a sad smile and pretend that it doesn't feel like water rising in your lungs every time this day comes.

but we don't have to talk about it

i can walk you home and practice method acting

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

even though we know it isn't true

Joel will never tell you what's on his mind. Never today. September 26th won't ever mean anything to you, so why would he bother? For him, it's everything and nothing all at once. Brown curls and sparkling young eyes and blood crusted on his arms and the unforgettable weight of death in his arms.

Another year older, he sighs, his heart clenching in grief. Another year older, and another year further from everything he's lost.

tysm for reading, here's a box of tissues. :') i love u all

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spicyspiders · 3 months

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Can you do a smutty lil fic with m reader who has thighs so thicckqq that the pants they where cause rashes? I’m struggling myself and it kinda sounds weird. With konig pls. Don’t need to reply

Why'd you type thick like that?😭Also, I hope you don't mind but I switched the story up a bit and made it so that the reader wears a tight uniform on missions, but out of uniform they started wearing shorts and their thighs distract König.

"König," you said after you entered your room, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. You were used to König being a little strange, hell, everyone on base was a little strange, but it's been days.

König's head snaps up from the book he was reading to look in your direction. It wasn't strange for the man to be reading a book, but what was was how many times you'd caught him looking at your thighs. You didn't mind him looking at your body, but you found it suspicious how quickly he would look away, like he was afraid of being caught.

"Yes?" He asked as he closed the book and placed it beside him. His voice was small. You hated when he sounded like that, you always wanted to make sure the man was okay.

"You're acting strange."

"I am?" He asked, his eyes going down to look at the skin on display from your shorts. You let out a huff when his eyes went back to your face, and his eyes went wide.

"You are. What's wrong?" You asked as you sat down beside him.

He was quiet for what felt like a long time before he answered with a question of his own, "why're you wearing those?" He asked, gesturing to your shorts. He put a hand out like he was going to touch them, but caught himself before he quickly pulled it away.

"My shorts?" You asked, looking down at them.

"They are distracting."

"My shorts?" You questioned, before letting out a laugh of disbelief. "My shorts are distracting?"

"No!" He answers, frustrated. His hands were balled at his sides, and you quickly picked up on where his frustration stemmed from: himself.

"Hey," you said softly, "it's okay," you placed a hand down onto his in comfort. You waited for him to find the words he actually meant as you ran your fingers along his hand.

König didn't speak until his hands relaxed, "your body distracts me. Your thighs."

It only took a few seconds for it all to connect. You normally wore sweatpants and a shirt to relax around the base after missions. For the past few days, however, you instead wore a pair of shorts to keep your body cool, fearful of a head rash breaking out over your body. There wasn't much you could do about your uniform, but you at least could control what you wore out of it.

"You don't need to hide from looking at them," you said. You took one of his hands and placed it right at the edge of your shorts in the middle of your thighs. "I don't wear them to distract you," smirking as König blushed, "but you can touch them all you want."

"All I want?" König questioned, looking up at you in awe as you sat up on your knees.

"All you want," you whisper.

König pulls your shorts down slowly before he leans down onto his forearm. His warm breath puffs onto your skin, which felt much more sensitive after you decided to shave certain areas of your body would help keep away the heat. You weren't sure if it actually helped yet, but it damn sure felt good when König ran his tongue along your smooth skin.

His tongue runs along your skin, getting it wet with his spit. It almost feels like the water from the shower you were just in, but this one was much more enjoyable, if also a little gross with all of the spit.

You gasp when König adds his teeth into the mix to bite marks into your skin. Your cock had already begun to fatten up from his tongue, but with the added pleasure of his teeth, your cock had grown fully hard. It bobbed in the air, hard and angry for König to take care of.

"Good boy," you murmured down at the man as he took your cock into the wet cavern of his mouth. Your eyes flicked down to the bulge in his pants, before they went back to watch the ways König's lips stretched around your cock.

You made a note in your head to get König a pair of shorts that matched your own and to see how distracting they actually were. You just hoped you could remember to do so as your mind went blank from the pleasure König's mouth brought ran through your body.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #könig x male reader smut #könig x male reader #könig x reader

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amyispxnk · 6 months

Text

My Sunshine

Summary - Things are getting bad again and you know Joel would be there to help you in the blink of an eye, but you can't help but feel guilty for even feeling this way - so burdening him with your emotions is out of the question. You try to hide how you feel from him, but you know you can't. He knows you too well.

A/N: SO. i am positively struggling at the moment. with life and just everything. and my lonely ass is in need of some comfort, especially when i feel like.. yk, shit. and feeling like doing shit to myself which is not very good 😊. but i could not find a single comforting fic about self harm, and i get that it’s a very sensitive subject - but my god i need this comfort so please let me indulge for a moment.

And going back to how self harm is a very sensitive subject - please heed the warnings and tread carefully. this entire thing is about self harm and comfort when struggling with it, so please be cautious.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (could possibly be read as gn but I've used things like sweet girl and his girl so)

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: self harm (not explicitly described or anything, but reader struggles with it), fluff, comfort, established relationship, angst, one mention of drugs (i used it as a.. simile, or whatever, nobody’s taking or has taken any drugs!), crying, kisses, pet names, bad thoughts, questioning the purpose of life, brief perspective change, INCREDIBLY BRIEF MENTION OF SMUT (one word.)

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Joel opens the door with a sigh, toeing off his boots and calling out your name as he walks into the living room, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you, breathe in your comforting scent and bask in your equally comforting embrace after a hard day of work. Normally you’d be in the living room, watching TV, maybe reading a book, or in the kitchen, cooking dinner, baking something new you’d found on the internet. But you weren’t today. It’s eerily quiet and he calls out your name again, breaking the silence with his loud voice as he walks up the stairs.

“Dariln’?” He asks as he pushes open the door to your bedroom; you’re not there either. He’s ready to start panicking since he’s checked just about every room of the house when he hears your voice coming from the bathroom.

“Just a minute!” You say, and he exhales with relief when you walk out of the room and up to him, giving him a small smile. It’s one of those smiles which doesn’t make your face look brighter or your eyes crinkle at the corners, no, it’s one of those smiles which you offer to him quickly to reassure him that everything’s okay, please don’t worry about me when you’re probably so stressed already.

“How was work?” You ask as your arms come around his neck and you hug him, breathing him in, holding him a little tighter than usual.

“Was a little tiring today, our supplier messed up the size of the headers and- Sorry, probably don’t mean nothin’ to ya.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile as his right hand came to the back of your neck, tilting your head back a bit so he could kiss you.

You melted into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in it. No matter how many times you kissed him, you’d never get enough of the feeling that came with it. Joel's kiss was like a drug, and you were addicted.

His hands skim up your sides but you pull back abruptly, wrinkling your nose. “You smell, Joel. Go shower.” You chuckle weakly and hit him playfully on the chest.

“Mm, I thought you like ‘em a little dirty?” He teased, making you scoff and shake your head as a smirk crept onto your lips.

“Not today. Get.” You told him sternly, still smiling nonetheless as he walked past you to go shower. The smile slipping from your face with ease as the door slides shut behind you.

A few hours later, showers have been taken, dinner made and eaten, and the both of you are now sat on the couch. Joel decided it was a good idea to watch a movie, putting on his favourite - Curtis and Viper 2 - much to your dismay. You swore that you’ve seen this damn movie so many times you’d be able to quote the entire thing word for word, but he still put it on, insisting that it was a classic and it wasn’t like you had any better ideas anyway.

You'd both come to learn that during movie nights, you'd always end up either falling asleep on his shoulder or you were both fucking before even the halfway mark.

Tonight you were curled into Joel's side, silently watching the movie with him. Well, not really watching the movie, just kind of watching the screen. Staring at the pixels and letting the sounds of the film and the world around you in through one ear, out the other.

You were lost in your thoughts, that was happening more often nowadays, mindlessly picking at your nails as you pondered on questions that were far too heavy to ponder this late at night. What's the point of life if we're all going to die one day? Why am I always so hopeless? Why can I never find the purpose in anything? Why am I getting worse at hiding these bad feelings? What if I get too miserable one day and Joel stops loving me? What if I'm just a burden to him?

The final two questions hit you hard, making you do a sharp inhale as you suddenly sit up, startling Joel in the process.

He turns to face you wearily, eyebrows furrowed. “Baby? What's wrong?” He asks quietly, arm coming around you and pulling you back into his side as he kisses your hair.

“‘s nothing. Sorry. Just tired- I think I'm gonna go to sleep.” You mumble, gently extracting yourself from his hold.

He frowns deeper. “Y’ don't wanna stay with me and finish the movie? Even though I know you weren't watching.” He attempts to tease lightly, wanting to lift the mood.

“No, um- you stay and watch it, that's okay. I'm gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight.” You say hurriedly, forgetting to even give him a goodnight kiss before you're up the stairs and in the bedroom, closing the door a little too quickly and praying the slam of it didn't further his concern.

Your back is pressed against the door as you grip the handle tight, eyes squeezing shut as you try to slow your breathing. It's not working, and you just want it to stop. You don't want to be upset, you don't want to feel like you're drowning in your own emotions again, you don't want Joel to find you crying upstairs in your room.

And the only thing you can think of doing is harming yourself. It's been on your mind a lot recently, as your sadness starts to get a little bit too much and you can't find any way to extinguish it. It feels like it's consuming you and you can only think about the last time things got like this. About how you dealt with it.

It would be so easy. You knew how to do it. But you couldn't bring yourself to. You'd be failing him, you saw how upset he was when he found out what you were doing last time and you didn't want to make him feel bad ever again.

You just didn't want to be a burden.

The door slams upstairs and Joel’s frown deepens. His hand goes for the remote, turning off the TV. He's seen this movie enough times, he thinks.

He slowly goes up the stairs and makes his way to your bedroom, wanting to make sure everything's okay.

You were definitely a little off tonight, zoning out and not being as talkative as you normally were, giving him a reason to already be a little concerned. Then you practically ran upstairs a minute ago, seeming panicked and making him worry even more.

He's at the door now, gently coaxing it open, and he's met with darkness. Darkness and silence.

He whispers your name, closing the door behind him as he flicks the light switch on, jumping slightly when he sees that you're right there, sat on the edge of the bed.

You turn to face him and he immediately notices how your face is wet with tears, eyes swollen and red, hair slightly dishevelled.

His heart effectively breaks at the sight of you.

“Baby- what's wrong?” He asks, concerned as ever, as he rushes over to you.

You rub at your eyes furiously, blinking back any further tears as you swallow.

“Nothing- nothing's wrong, Joel-” Your voice wavers as you speak and there's clearly something wrong - why you try so hard to hide it from him is beyond him.

He gently pulls your hands away from your face and holds them together in your lap.

“There's somethin’ wrong, sweetheart. I can see it.” He says softly, his thumb brushing away another tear that’s slowly trailing down your cheek.

You're completely silent, lip quivering.

You don't want to be a burden. If you tell him, he'll get upset and then he'll try to help you, even though you feel like nobody can. You'll just end up being a burden.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand as you do.

“Baby please. Talk to me.” He pleads with you, cupping your cheek and looking at you with so much care and worry that it makes you want to sob all over again.

“I just feel like shit.” You mumble so quietly he almost missed it. “I-” you start, but you just sigh frustratedly, digging your nails into your palms. “I feel.. really bad, again. It almost feels worse this time and it just makes me want to hurt myself. To make it all stop.” You say through clenched teeth, upset and afraid and so, so angry with yourself for admitting how you feel. You do it so much easier now but only because you and Joel had worked so hard to get rid of these defensive walls you'd built around yourself, walls that forced you to conceal your feelings and bottle your emotions.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He frowns, sitting on the bed and turning you to face him a little more. You don't want to look at him. You don't want to see him getting upset and worrying about you. You can't bear it.

So you keep your eyes clamped shut and continue talking. “My thoughts were just getting so.. so loud. And I don't know how to make it stop, and I almost- I just thought it would help.” You're shaking, he can feel it. Little shivers across your entire body, making your breath tremble as you exhale and inhale shakily. “I'm so sorry, Joel. I'm sorry.” You start to sob and he feels like doing the same, because he hates seeing you like this. If he could take all the pain away, force it onto himself so you didn't have to bear it, he would.

He pulls you closer to him, into his lap as he cradles you and rocks you slightly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead and resting his head there.

“Baby, please stop apologisin’. You aren't doin’ anything wrong and.. I know it's hard. It's hard to stop yourself from relapsin’, but you've done so well. ‘m so damn proud of ya, because you've gone so long without hurtin’ yourself. And it's doin’ good for ya; you might not realise it but I do. You’re so much happier now without it, ya like a fuckin’ ball of sunshine.” He teases, making you let out a watery chuckle. He pauses for a moment to brush away your tears, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you. So so much. And I don't want to see you in pain like that ever again. I don't want my sunshine to go away, and I don't think you want her to either.”

You nod slowly, rubbing at your face as the final tears slip past your eyelids, looking up at Joel again.

He held you and you both talked for what must have been hours after that. You discussed what was really bothering you, how you could try make it better. Distractions helped, you decided. Joel proved to be a good distraction, as you ended the night listening to him talk about just about anything from the new diner that opened up in town to that one story from his childhood which made you snort with laughter every time (one which consisted of little Joel falling ‘head over heels in love’ with a girl when he was in elementary school, deciding to profess his love to her by writing a sappy poem for her and reading it to her in front of quite a large group of people.. only to be turned down. Naturally, he would've been, considering she was a fucking 16 year-old!)

He knew that that story would be the one to make you crack a smile, even if it was a small one, he just wanted to make his girl happy again.

You did a little more than smile, giggling so much you went red because that story never really gets old.

“There she is.” He murmured affectionately, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and kissing the tip of your nose, then your cheek, then your lips.

It was a brief, yet loving, one, as he pulled back from the kiss and stroked your hair as your eyes fluttered shut.

Joel pulled you closer to him, your head now resting on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed from his soothing touch.

“G’night, babygirl.” He murmured, unsurprised when you didn't answer since you had already fallen asleep.

He stares up at the ceiling and he feels happy despite everything that happened tonight, because he feels good knowing that he can give you that solace and comfort that you just need so desperately sometimes, just like he gave you in the hours that passed. He'd do it a million times and more if it was for you.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you.. enjoyed? Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and requests are open. 💞

Note: My heart really goes out to you if you struggle with self harm. It's not easy to deal with and even harder to stop doing it once you've started, but you're not alone. Even if you feel like you have no one to talk to, there are countless places and websites you can look at which offer things like helplines and anonymous chats if you're struggling, and also give healthy solutions and alternatives etc. to self harm. You're so loved. Things might seem impossible but never give up. It will get better one day.

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dmercer91 · 11 months

Text

in your arms i feel at peace | look after you, tz11

in which trevor is your shoulder to cry on

don't let those super fluffy pictures of z fool you, this is sad as fuck (and dialogue heavy)

when i first started this account i figured i'd be doing mostly nsfw and look at me!!! every character i write has mommy issues :)

also send in for this au pls and thank you ill give you a vital organ

"someone's in a good mood," trevor mumbled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you made breakfast for the two of you. nobody else was awake yet, and it was nice to just have some quiet time with him.

in just a couple weeks you’d become great friends, and you found yourself glued to him or to a book all day every day

“my mom asked if i wanted to go shopping with her today, it’s been a while since we’ve done something like that,” you explained, not clocking the look of worry on trevor’s face

you were over the moon that your mom wanted to spend time with you, one on one. this was your chance to bond with her now that you were closer to being an adult

your chance to fix things and have her treat you as an individual

you figured your mom saw today the same, that she might change. maybe she wouldn’t undermine your issues, compare them to her own

maybe she’d offer you help rather than argue that she was worse off

maybe she’d buy you things you actually like rather than force you to dress like she wanted - professional and proper so that you would be taken more seriously

trevor could tell that you thought today would change some things, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it

he knew your relationship with your mom wasn’t great. he knew your relationship with your whole family was less than ideal, actually.

he was a little nervous to see where the day went, but for now? you were excited, and he loved that for you

that excitement didn’t last long

he had a feeling he’d be left picking up the broken pieces of your heart whenever you got back

the feeling was right

but, he didn’t think it’d be this bad.

you were yelling as you walked through the door, your mom poker faced and unimpressed, almost rolling her eyes as she told you to calm down

“would you quit being a brat? there are other people in this house!”

trevor watched from the bottom of the stairs as you paused, laughing to yourself

“right. other people. you know what, mom?” you left space for her to answer you despite the question being rhetorical, but she just crossed her arms

challenging you to say what it was that was on your mind

“i don’t want to be your daughter anymore. from here on out, i am a stranger to you, i am the other people you’re so worried about looking your best for” you smiled softly

your moms face fell from amused to confused, thinking you’d do what you normally did - cry, and then accept any offer to rekindle your relationship in hopes that this time, she’d be a mom to you.

“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother and i was just a kid. i didn’t- i don’t deserve to be tangled in this stupid, one sided vendetta you have against me for just existing,” your tone was level, you weren’t yelling anymore

your mom scoffed, trying to hold up a cold exterior while facing the reality that she was losing the only person who’d do anything for her

the person who, at seven years old, helped her move out of your dads house after the divorce

the person who didn’t question that you were moving in with a man you’d never met before

the person who cleaned the whole house regularly so that she wouldn’t have to stress about it

the person who helped her with laundry because her boyfriend refused

the person who defended her when he was drunk

the person who let her cry on your shoulder when owen wanted to stay with your dad for some time

the person who didn’t do the same because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings

the person who offers to do anything and everything for her because you know she works a lot

the person who forgives quickly and tries to forget, cause that’s your mom and you believed she could be better

the person who shuts up when you’re feeling down because you don’t want to put more things on her

the person who drops anything you’re feeling cause when you bring it up, suddenly she feels worse than you about that same thing and she needs you to lean on

the person who after seventeen years, has finally given up

you’ve given up.

“don’t you think that’s a little dramatic, y/n?” you smiled with a shake of your head, a tear falling down your face

“that’s kinda the problem, isn’t it? if i was any less emotional you might have me checked for psychopathy.

my whole life you let owen walk all over me. demean me over and over, and of course i cried, i was eight years old.

every time i tried to say something you’d tell me i was too emotional, that he treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoe because it was easy and i reacted too much

that wasn’t the truth. you just didn’t want to deal with it. you were annoyed that i was crying.

regardless i believed you because you were meant to be my mother

the bullying never stopped but every single time i just walked away and suddenly i wasn’t emotional enough for you

i was uncomfortable in my own home and that meant i was rude and blunt and i needed to smile sometimes cause i seemed like a bitch

you made me into that and i think it’s time someone lets you know so you can get the fuck off your high horse, cause we all know you think you’re a great mother”

she clenched her jaw and opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off

“i’m not done.

news flash, buying me things at the mall just to soften the blow of you being a massive cunt doesn’t make you a good mother

putting a roof over my head and feeding me doesn’t make you a good mother, it just allows you to keep your kids.

so, again. you’re gonna start treating me like a stranger

because it’s not hard to see how insecure you are about how random people see you on the outside

you put up this mask of perfection for people who don’t even know you and never will, but you don’t give a single fuck how your own child sees you on the inside

i’m done being an extension of you to torment and compare yourself to, and i’m staying here wether you like it or not.

i’m here as a friend of quinn’s, now. as a friend of the family’s. this is not my family,”

the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop

“don’t be disrespectful, y/n. i do a lot for you. i bought you summer clothes today!” you bit the inside of your cheek, filing through you head to look for any memory of her that wasn’t tainted by it’s true purpose, and you couldn’t.

“you didn’t listen to a word i said, huh? figures,”

when you turned and the first thing you saw was trevor, looking at you from the staircase, every bit of yourself willed to not let the dam break until you were alone, with him.

you walked right into him, clinging onto him and pressing your face tight into his neck

he reciprocated the second you were near, taking you into his arms and squeezing you tight, cupping your head and rubbing your back

he helped you up the stairs and towards the door to his room, holding your hand until you got to his bed and he could pull you back into his arms, on his lap.

"what happened, sunshine?" he murmured, letting you comb your fingers through his hair to try and keep yourself calm

it didn't work all that well, tears already streaming down your face now that you were in the comfort of his room, alone where you felt you wouldn't be judged.

your reply was muffled by his shoulder, where you'd pressed your jaw to try and keep your cries quiet

"she wanted me to go back home."

trevor furrowed his eyebrows and traced patterns on your leg with his fingers, knowing you'd open up when you were ready.

you took a minute to calm your breathing, explaining everyhting.

that originally you wanted to spend the summer at home with your dad because you knew you'd be isolated here, that quinn had other friends and you couldn't steal him away from everyone for the whole offseason.

that you got put in your place before the drive down to michigan and told that ellen needed you there to help around the house and that you could just be helpful 'this one time'

that ellen hadn't made you touch a thing all summer, the only time you did a chore was when you made yourself and him a snack, so you knew your mom just wanted you here to be a servant

that when you met him, you were finally happy in michigan and you were actually looking forward to the summer and getting to know him, spending some more time with jack and luke now that you had someone in common

that today, the shopping trip was just a cover up, your mom spoiling you before telling you - not asking - that you were going back home to house sit until the offseason was over

that you were naive at first, that you thought your mom grew a heart and that she was giving you an out due to you wanting to stay back home weeks ago

that you quickly saw through that

that your mom told you that owen had been excited to meet the team usa guys, trevor especially, and that you were getting in the way of your brother having the offseason experience he wanted

that you were going to be miserable the whole summer, but now that you've found a happy place in michigan, you were told to go home and be miserable there instead

that she wanted you isolated all summer. that was her plan.

and after you let it all out to him, you just started sobbing, and you couldn't stop

trevor did his best to soothe you, mumbling sweet nothings and reassuring you that ellen wanted you at the lake house and that he knew she'd let you stay

"i don't know what i could've done to make her hate me so much," you croaked, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him closer

“you didn’t do anything, sunshine. there’s nothing in the world you could’ve done to deserve that, you were just a kid. n’ you’re an angel, you know? like heaven on earth, it’s not your fault,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head

you looked up into his eyes from your spot on his shoulder, eyes uncertain and still overflowing with tears

“i know you don’t believe me, it’s okay,” he slid his thumb back and forth along your hair, kissing you on the temple.

you adjusted your head to get closer to him, still keeping your eyes on his

sniffling slightly, you took his other hand and toyed with his fingers, gaze eventually falling there as your tears slowed and nose cleared up

“thank you, trev, that-“ he cut you off with a kiss, catching you a little off guard

still, you pulled away with a smile, holding his jaw with the hand you’d had gripping his shirt

“that’s really sweet.” you finished, fresh tears falling from your face

he moved to wipe them, brushing his thumb against your nose gently

“of course, my sunshine,”

you hugged him, using both arms to wrap around him and squeeze tight, him returning the favour

“i’m all yours for the rest of the day, hm? maybe we can sneak off on the boat? bring some snacks, blankets n’ your laptop for movies and make a day out of it,”

you nodded happily, becoming pliant in his arms with a dumb smile

“that sounds perfect, z,”

he went to kiss you again, but the door cracked open mid lean-in and you jumped apart like it was an affair

it was ellen, now grinning to herself at the sight in front of her

“i figured you’d be in here. can we talk?”

you blushed, nodding.

“yeah, auntie el, just-“

“i’ll go,” trevor cut you off, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on your cheek

#e’s fics #look after you au !#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks

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