#i love him so much he means the world to me

[luveline]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping. 

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered. 

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely. 

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap. 

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in. 

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them. 

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him. 

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you. 

Your phone rings a moment later. 

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too. 

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start. 

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.” 

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man. 

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?” 

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.” 

“And you want me to fix that?” 

“You always fix my neck.” 

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that. 

“I have bad posture.” 

“You have perfect posture.” 

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.” 

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.” 

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.” 

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.” 

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.” 

“What did I lose?” 

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.  

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.” 

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.” 

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.” 

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says. 

“Or I could make us both some?” 

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected. 

Cruel overpass, you think. 

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek. 

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later. 

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back. 

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill. 

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard. 

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain. 

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor. 

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth. 

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath. 

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something. 

Your phone rings on the counter. 

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins. 

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.” 

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.” 

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot. 

“Honey?” a voice asks. 

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays. 

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder. 

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off. 

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them. 

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says. 

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead. 

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.” 

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.” 

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.” 

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile. 

“I look tired,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it. 

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.” 

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile. 

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.” 

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.” 

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?” 

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.” 

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.” 

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea. 

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you. 

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?” 

“You said I can give her a hug.” 

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.” 

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says. 

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.” 

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs. 

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room. 

You’re sleeping. 

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing. 

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze. 

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown. 

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic. 

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly. 

Jack stays sitting. 

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt. 

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says. 

“When can she come home?” 

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you. 

“Why is she sleeping all day?” 

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.” 

“Should we go?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.” 

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees. 

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give. 

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap. 

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly. 

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession. 

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face. 

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms. 

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open. 

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again. 

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk. 

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.” 

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need. 

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively. 

Aaron lets out a breath. 

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.” 

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some. 

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone. 

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.” 

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.” 

“I know.” 

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.” 

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. 

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.” 

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?” 

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder. 

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down. 

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying. 

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears. 

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic. 

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow. 

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow. 

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand. 

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk? 

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from. 

Where’s the worst of the blood? 

It’s everywhere. 

Abdominal? Chest? 

I can’t tell. I can’t tell. 

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but– 

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions. 

Honey, can you hear me? 

Your name said clearly. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass. 

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface. 

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” 

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.” 

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you. 

You close your eyes. 

“What stuck out?” 

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.” 

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?” 

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.” 

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.” 

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?” 

“I filled the kettle.” 

“What kettle?” 

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.” 

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?” 

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.” 

“When?” 

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says softly. 

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.” 

“Like he was quick on his feet?” 

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.” 

“How big did he feel?” 

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big. 

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember. 

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.” 

“When was this?” 

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers. 

“That was at the end,” you say. 

“After he stabbed you?” 

You wince. “Yes. After.” 

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.” 

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.” 

“When Hotch found you?” 

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks. 

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move. 

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room. 

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.” 

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose. 

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?” 

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much. 

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room. 

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron. 

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees. 

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay. 

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear. 

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread. 

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again. 

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.” 

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.” 

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep. 

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one.  He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you. 

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.” 

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say. 

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Please.” 

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?” 

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?” 

“I don’t want to say it again.” 

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.” 

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?” 

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.” 

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread. 

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern. 

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.” 

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?” 

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop. 

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again. 

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative. 

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says. 

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world. 

“…This is my fault.” 

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep. 

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.” 

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.” 

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I know.” 

“No, I love you.” 

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?” 

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.” 

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.” 

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound. 

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both. 

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours. 

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says. 

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek. 

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises. 

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters. 

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.” 

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved. 

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone. 

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them. 

I won’t. 

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will. 

Foyet didn’t need much more than that. 

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either. 

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid. 

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner. 

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries. 

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this. 

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again. 

He rubs his brow. 

“You okay?” Emily asks. 

When he looks up, JJ is gone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It��s okay if you’re not.” 

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says. 

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day. 

He can’t fail you, too. 

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks. 

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?” 

“Being in love.” 

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.” 

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks. 

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger. 

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says. 

He shakes his head. 

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.” 

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety. 

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.” 

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.” 

He turns his attention back to the board without another word. 

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest. 

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him. 

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks. 

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. 

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits. 

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!” 

“Hi, junior g-man, what are you doing?” 

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.” 

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask. 

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.” 

“How did you find him?” 

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.” 

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?” 

“Brave.” 

“I’m a coward.” 

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” 

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby. 

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless. 

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.” 

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.” 

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue. 

“But it keeps happening.” 

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead. 

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?” 

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths. 

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–” 

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands. 

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says. 

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?” 

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.” 

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.” 

He looks at you in silence. 

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.” 

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?” 

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag. 

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed. 

But not everything. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head. 

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly. 

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Was Jack good?” 

“Jack’s always good.” 

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?” 

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.” 

“I can get those.” 

“I know, I knew you would.” 

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek. 

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip. 

“My present?” 

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.” 

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him. 

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.” 

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen #mv1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x y/n #red bull racing #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen drabble

[lipringlrh]

HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER PART 2 (LANDO ENDING)

read: part one | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

Lando wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that night was the worst sleep he’d ever had. He left as soon as he found out you’d left with Lily and Alex, and made his way to your house just to find out you weren’t there. He messaged Alex to get no response and contemplated waiting outside your door until you came back, whether it be days or months, he’d wait for you. But, after almost falling asleep numerous times and getting laughed at by a group of teenagers, he made his way back to his apartment, knowing you’d be looked after.

He was awake almost all night, messaging and calling you and regretting everything in its entirety. He didn’t fully know if you had even seen him kiss the person that resembled you, he only felt it deep down, but even if you hadn’t, he shouldn’t have done it, and he could never apologise enough. He thought of how to explain his thoughts but nothing would suffice; nothing would ever be able to explain how he felt.

At some point in the early hours, he finally drifted off, but awoke not much later to an aggressive banging on his door and a voice screaming at him to hurry up. He wished the voice was you but it wasn’t and he hated it. He rushed to his door, barely having time to pull on some grey joggers before opening it to an angry Alex, very close to breaking the door down.

“Are you stupid?” Alex questioned, fuming, pushing his way into Lando’s house, “I know that you’re in love with her so what are you doing?”

Lando looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t explain his actions, he didn’t even want to think about them. All he remembered feeling was grief at watching you walk away, so when he found someone that looked eerily similar, he took the chance to kiss them and create the image in his mind of kissing you. It didn’t last long. He realised too quickly that they didn’t smell like you and the way they kissed wasn’t the same. He hated it, he didn’t want to kiss anyone but you.

“I know, I didn’t mean to-”

“What, you just tripped into her mouth then?” Alex questioned, pushing a finger against Lando’s chest.

“No- no. I don’t know why I did, I really love them I promise. We almost kissed but then they walked away, I was hurt, I didn’t think they wanted me,” Lando almost cried, his voice cracking.

“You do this every time you go out. You kiss her every time you go out and she follows, you don’t get to pull that card. You might be upset but I promise you’re not even feeling half of it,” Alex spat, not caring if he hurt Lando because he hurt you much more.

“Help me apologise. I need to apologise, please Alex, please help,” Lando begged, wanting you to more than anything, “Please Alex, I’ll do anything.”

Alex sighed. At that moment, he hated Lando for what he did, but he’d been wishing for you both to get together since he first saw you both together, making heart eyes at each other. He contemplated in his head whether to help or not. He always envisioned you together but always wanted what's best for you and right now he couldn’t tell if that was Lando or not. But looking at the state of him, red, wet eyes, begging for his help, he wanted to believe Lando regretted everything and would do anything to prove he loved you.

“Okay, but I’m not letting you be forgiven easily, I want you to prove it,” Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. A feeling of simultaneous relief and guilt eating him alive.

Lando promised Alex over and over again, and in between each syllable, promising himself also that he would give you the world in apologies, and whatever happened he deserved it, but even if there was the slimmest chance you could forgive him, Lando would take it and cherish it.

Alex messaged you and you told him it was fine to bring Lando over, as long as he didn’t expect much, and so they turned up less than five minutes later. Alex left you both alone in the kitchen to sit with Lily in the living room after repeating countless times he was a shout away.

You almost broke down just seeing him but managed to keep it in. You didn’t want him to explain, you didn’t care to hear it at the moment, but as soon as Alex left he began spilling out apologies and trying to explain himself, which you quickly shut up.

“I want some space,” you sighed. You wanted Lando close but you wanted everything you felt for him gone first. You couldn’t believe he ever felt the same, not after that.

“Of course, I understand,” his voice broke as he stepped back, trying to show you he would do anything you said.

“Not like that, Lando. I mean it, I don’t think I can see you for a while.”

“Oh-” he said, “When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be, this is my fault,” he sighed, clearly upset and looking at the ground, “I’ll go, I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, you broke down crying, debating your decision on if you handled it right. You already missed him, and still loved him, but you also didn’t want to see him. Alex explained the whole morning, and his perspective, giving you hope you could fix it with Lando, especially after Alex’s approval, which you trusted more than anything.

The next few times you saw him were at hangouts with your shared friends. You knew he’d be there as none of your friends would invite him unless you were completely sure you didn’t mind him there. He stayed away, but didn’t make it awkward to the people around you, and always gave you a shy smile when you caught his eye.

He didn’t try to text or call again, despite wanting to more than anything, and instead waited for you to make the first move whenever you were ready. You had missed him more than anything, in both an “I love him” and “he’s my best friend” way, and it was killing you from being away from him, especially after how well he listened to your instructions.

You were at a mutual friend's get-together, a small barbecue in a back garden when you decided it was time. You had been debating texting him but after seeing him, you decided you couldn’t wait.

He was standing alone in a corner beside a flower patch and some grass, drink in hand, and surveying everyone that was there when you walked over. He didn’t know how to greet you and so awkwardly moved his hands between going for a hug or a handshake. You laughed and hugged him, both of you holding on tightly, unhappy to let go.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered gently, looking down and playing with your fingers, slightly nervous to admit it to him after all this time.

“I’ve missed you too,” he grins, adding on, “So much,” with a quiet whisper.

“How’ve you been?” you asked, trying to make small talk before delving right in.

“Okay, I’ve not really done much. Races have been okay.”

“I saw,” you smiled, “You’ve done really well.”

“You watched?” he questioned, a little surprised. You met his eyes and nodded, explaining how you could never miss one.

“Do you want to talk inside?” you asked, heart pounding as you said it. He nodded immediately, without hesitation, and followed you in through the double glass doors into the kitchen, but only after picking out a daisy from the grass next to him and offering it out to you, causing both of you to grin.

He closed the doors behind you both, blocking out as much other noise as possible, ready for you to begin. “I want to know how you feel about this and about me,” you started, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry, I��m still so sorry. I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can’t even find an excuse, I was being stupid and thinking how you’d never want me. It was all nothing, you’re the only person that’s ever meant anything, I’m so sorry. I will do anything to fix this- anything.”

“Lan,” you let out a breath, “You still want me?”

“More than anything,” he grinned and you stepped forward to reach him, locking your arms around his neck.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pull his face down until his lips are almost touching yours. He was smiling so much you thought it might be impossible to kiss him but you pulled him into you anyway, finally kissing him again.

“Stop smiling,” you laughed, pulling away to say it before immediately kissing him again.

“What? Can I not be happy? I’m getting my girl back,” he pulled away, grinning harder, then trying to drag you back in, which was almost successful until you pulled away at the last second.

“I can barely kiss you like this and I’d really, really like to,” you giggled, tugging him back again to enjoy another impatient kiss.

Your hands were running all over his head, completely ruining his hair, but he didn’t care. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you impossibly close. When you finally parted he still kept you close, resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you sure you want this?” he questioned, his breath still heavy.

You kissed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes, “More than anything, I promise,” you paused for a moment, “But you’re going to have to grovel to repay all the lost time we’ve had.”

“I’m going to prove to you that I’m all in, that I want this more than I could possibly explain,” Lando promised, meaning every word. He was already planning out exactly what he wanted to do - he knew he had to work to become your official boyfriend, but he would do everything possible for you.

You just stared at him, showcasing the biggest smile you’ve ever had, eyes full of love, knowing you weren’t ever going to let each other go or even risk it again.

“God I love you,” he grinned, ignoring the fact he still hadn’t caught his breath and pulling you into another, more intimate, kiss.

taglist in reblogs

#lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #f1 x reader #lando norris smut #f1 fluff #f1 angst #lando norris blurb #lando norris f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x you #formula one #f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris x gn!reader #formula one angst #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 angst #formula one x reader

[fefern]

no bcos scar (wuwa) lives in my head rent free.. 🫠 if he paid i wld be a billionaire now but how would you headcanon scar as a lover? (also wld he turn me into a tacet discord hybrid HELP but i mean this in all seriousness)

✧˖° having scar as a lover. | scar headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: he may be a maniac...but he's your maniac! so, what's it like to love scar?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: scar, gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi hi anon! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ thank you for sending in an ask, i appreciate it so so much! hope you enjoy it! ALSO RENT FREE IN THIS ECONOMY?? GET YOUR BAG FROM YOUR MAN!! ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

when it comes to love, scar is just as passionate about you as he is about fighting for the fractsidus and getting people to join. 

he would burn the world down for you if you asked. 

(literally and figuratively, so be careful with what you ask from him because he’ll go great lengths to make you happy.)

turning you into a tacet discord hybrid is…something he definitely would highly suggest to you, but unlike his manipulation of other people, he would not want to force it upon you (though he would be very happy to see you join in adopting his ideals.)

he’s surprisingly patient when it comes to you, from waiting for you when you’re trying to decide what to eat off the menu to trying to decide your own fighting style.

will talk about the latest gossip in the organization with you in a very exasperated tone and makes it as dramatic as possible to get you hooked. 

words of affirmation kind of guy, loves to flirt with you and overload you with compliments. 

sometimes, when he wants to get just the two of you alone, he’ll create his own little bubble and begin either yapping on about something or asking you for affection because he’s “starved” of it, as he puts it. (it’s been five minutes.)

surprisingly likes to cuddle, and on the days he’s not out recruiting people, he’s in bed with you, nice and cozy.

the best evil deeds are done at night! …so he’s not a morning person.

will need you to coax him out of bed to get started on the day (a few kisses and running your hands through his hair gently will do the trick.)

really enjoys the fact that he can let his guard down around you, and he knows his reputation precedes him, so he always makes sure to put his best foot forward and be genuine always with you.

overall this little maniac’s biggest weakness is you so mwah 10/10 for being a lover, ignoring how he asks you on the daily “please please please put a tacet discord in yourself babe it’s not that bad i pinky promise pLEASE-”

#wuthering waves #wuthering waves headcanons #wuwa #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves scar #wuthering waves scar x reader #wuthering waves scar headcanons #wuwa scar #wuwa x reader #wuwa scar x reader #wuwa headcanons #qi writes

[pennylanefics]

Orchids - Quinn Hughes

a/n: not the happiest with this but i really love the idea :) it's such a cute little trope and i can never get enough of it <3

summary: you attend a wedding with quinn and his mind starts to wander about your own relationship

word count: ~1.3k

Quinn sits beside you at the overly decorated table, candles surrounding the area, creating a romantic and soft lighting. Flowers upon flowers are spread all over the entire place, and chatter amongst the guests fills your ears, making your head feel a little fuzzy.

Wedding season was in full swing, and this was the second wedding of the year for Quinn to attend, this time it was a friend and teammate he had in the AHL, who was traded to a different team about a year after. They were still close, so of course Quinn was invited to his lavish wedding.

You felt slightly out of place, not knowing a single person beside Quinn and maybe one or two guys here and there. You made acquaintences with the people at your table, though, finding out they are family of the bride.

Quinn’s hand hadn’t let go of yours since you sat at the table, waiting for the bridal party to enter. He takes in all the decorations while saying hi to people passing by or catching up with someone who stops to chat with him for a little.

He was the best at detecting when you were uncomfortable or shy, or even overstimulated or overwhelmed with a situation, no matter how hard you tried to hide it from him.

“We can leave after dinner, or whenever you’d like,” he whispered in your ear, moving to set his arm around the back of your chair.

“I don’t want to take away from supporting your friend. I’ll be okay,” you grin over at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him a bit more.

“Just let me know. I don’t want you being super uncomfortable.”

“I will,” you agree, kissing his cheek.

The entire time that the wedding party is announced two at a time, one bridesmaid and one groomsmen, and finally the newly wedded couple, Quinn had this special glint in his eyes. The lights shining around him brought out the brown flecks in them, but even with that, there was a deeper meaning to them…he was lost in thought about something.

Dinner is served soon after, wait staff walking through the tables and dropping off plates of steak and chicken with mixed veggies and potatoes, a very fancy yet simple choice you were thankful for. Conversation quietly bubbles amongst every table, everyone lost in their own little world.

Quinn, however, was in his own imagination still. You could tell something was up when he was looking all over the event space, grinning softly as he chews his food.

“Something up, Q?” You finally ask him, nudging your hand against his thigh. His head whips towards you and he shakes his head, swallowing his food.

“No, just looking around. It’s beautifully set up, there’s so much to look at,” he brushes off, but just like he knows you, you know him just as well. And you were wanting to get to the bottom of it by the end of the night.

The festivities continue after dinner, dessert is brought out and while it’s delicious, you can’t help but focus your mind on Quinn and his slightly odd behavior; it wasn’t odd, in a sense, but something was up with him. He was far quieter than his usual self that he was at weddings.

Once the speeches were over, which were filled with stories and laughter, the DJ announces that the couple will have their first dance, and then the floor would be open to everyone. Quinn’s hand returns to yours as his eyes were glued to the magnificent white dress that adorned the bride and how her new husband was holding her like she was the most delicate antique he’s ever seen.

You take notice of the glint that returns to his eyes, seemingly smiling to himself, or at the happy couple, it honestly could be either. Taking a step into your plan to get him to clear his mind, you place your head on his shoulder, startling him a little since he was so focused, but he settles back, turning to kiss your head.

As the night progresses, you soon find yourself in Quinn’s arms, slow dancing on the floor with countless other couples, your head tucked into his neck. His hands rest on your waist and he hums softly along to the music into your ear.

“Do you ever think about what kind of flowers you want at your wedding?” He asks, his thumb gently rubbing the spot where it sits. You had to keep yourself still for a moment because you were about to raise your head so fast, you would have smacked him in the chin.

When his question finally settles in, your head lifts from his shoulder and you look into his eyes, which were shining with so much adoration for you, a slight grin on his lips. His eyes rake over your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“I love daisies or dahlias, daisies would be perfect for a spring wedding, and dahlias in general are so beautiful. I feel like roses can be overrated sometimes, so I’d want something non-traditional,” you explain, still swaying side to side with him. He nods along and his smile widens. “Why? What kind of flowers do you imagine for yours?”

“I’d love orchids for the main flower. Obviously we’d need more, but I was reading something the other day that orchids represent, well, they represent a lot of things, there’s a lot of different meanings for different colors.” He blushes under the dark lights and looks down at your entwining hand, his left hand trailing down to hold your right one.

“I read that in the Victorian era, orchids were given to someone to show love and appreciation and as a way to tell a woman that she is beautiful.” His other hand raises to your face, cupping your cheek to make sure you kept your eyes on his. “They also represent rare and delicate beauty, and I can’t think of any better flower that encapsulates you.”

Your cheeks heat up under his touch, your breath hitching in your throat. 

“I’ve been imagining our wedding all night, my love. What decorations we’d have, what our color scheme would be, how romantic our first dance would be, but I’d kind of like to have that be in private, between us, and not let anyone know. So they’d be thinking they’re watching the first dance, but it’s really our second.” The pink hue remained on his face as he continued to describe his thoughts, finally giving you and insight into what was on his mind the entire night.

He had been thinking about what it would be like to marry you. Imagining yours and his wedding.

“Is that why you’ve been so distant tonight?” You tease him, tracing your finger across the dress shirt adorning his chest, messing with the chain of his necklace.

“A little. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. Thinking about seeing you in a beautiful white dress, with your hair all done up in a perfect way, a shining ring on your finger that shows everyone you are loved.”

His words send shocks through your body, your heart racing like crazy in your chest. You were in awe that Quinn had been thinking about this. You’ve only been dating for a couple years, which isn’t short, but it’s also not a long time yet. You expected him to feel this way five years in, so it surprised you a little to know he was thinking about it.

You hadn’t thought of it at all, maybe once here and there, but never in-depth, to the point where small details are planned out with such an immense amount of thought, down to the meaning of certain flowers. However, as you gaze up into his eyes, his touch feeling hot and heavy on your body, you take a moment to think about it.

And the moment the idea of marrying him enters your mind, it feels right.

“You wanna marry me?” You wonder, even though it’s a very obvious answer.

“Of course. You are it for me, my soulmate. There’s no one else I could imagine marrying, my darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 3.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mention of jungkook sleeping around, curse words? but that's pretty much it

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: wrote this in like twenty minutes after being unable to write for a few weeks, let's go :))))) hope you guys enjoy <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The second Jungkook saw you crying at the door of your apartment, he knew he had to do something. It didn’t matter that he was supposed to meet with Shelly, didn’t matter that you are Taehyung’s little sister. The sight of tears on your cheeks nearly undid him, his heart clenching so hard in his chest he somehow thought it was going to burst.

Maybe that’s why he decided to cook for you. To offer you this fake Valentine’s Day date, but the more he’s been talking to you, the more the word fake has been losing its meaning, replaced by a yearning for you he’s been trying to forget since the day he met you. 

It’s been resurfacing lately, and no matter the amount of reminding himself that your brother is Taehyung, the yearning has yet to go back into the deep slumber it had been in since early September. The fact that you got jealous about Shelly contributes to it all, rendering him practically speechless as he sits next to you.

Mindlessly, he sings along to the song - I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys - eyes lost in the flame atop the candle you’ve lit earlier. He feels your gaze on him the second you turn your head towards him, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

He meets your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?” 

He meant for it to be teasing, but he rather sounds slightly breathless, and he can only hope you haven’t noticed.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

The compliment hits deep, right in his beating organ. Stabs it until all there is is you sitting next to him, and the room fades out of focus.

“Nah,” he lets out.

“No, I’m serious,” you insist, nodding your head. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

He thinks he’s blushing. He knows he is - how can you make him such a mess?

He scrunches up his nose. “Stop it.”

You roll your eyes. “Just take the compliment,” you say, and you laugh as he pulls on his piercings. 

His heart is beating loud, so loud he doesn’t think he hears the music anymore. There really is just you, like you’re the centerpiece to his universe, and he thinks he’s dumb. Dumb and stupid and all kinds of foolish, yet all he manages to do is whisper, “We should have hung out like this before.”

It’s like the world is holding its breath. Or maybe it’s him, his lungs filling with apprehension at the words he’s uttered aloud even though he shouldn’t have.

“Yeah?” you breathily reply.

Jungkook can’t breathe. Not when he feels you leaning in, and like a meteor, he can’t resist your gravity. Can’t resist leaning in too, meeting you halfway there. When your lips touch, he thinks, will he be the meteor, dust burned in your atmosphere, or will he crash down to you like a meteorite would?

The answer comes when you hesitantly pull away, eyes wide. He doesn’t move, can’t move, and then he’s pulling on your arm, because of course he's the meteorite. His eyes flutter shut the second your feather-soft lips touch his again, and you sigh like you’ve been waiting for this all night. 

Much like he has, if he’s honest. But he’s been waiting for much longer, even if he pretended he wasn’t.

Even if he fucked around like he did before, trying not to think about you. Though he pushes that thought away the second that it’s formed in his mind - he doesn’t want to think about anything else when he’s kissing you.

He wants it to be just you, and it's as easy as breathing as he tilts his head to the side so that he can deepen the kiss. His hand trails up your arm, stopping on your shoulder for half a heartbeat before he moves it to the side of your neck, his thumb swiping at your jaw gently.

He sighs, the weight of the yearning finally lifting from his shoulders, and he can’t help but tease your bottom lip with his tongue. You’re quick to reciprocate, and your tongues meet in a languid dance that makes his mind spin, though he keeps the kiss slow, passionate.

He wants to enjoy every single second of this before time is up. He pulls you closer, hand finding the nape of your neck, his heart racing in his chest as you put your hand right above the beating organ. He reckons you notice, because your fist closes on a handful of his shirt, and you pull him closer too. Jungkook immediately reacts by shifting in his chair to allow you space so that you can straddle him.

The weight of you in his lap causes a physical response in him that he’s afraid you might notice, yet you don’t move, don’t say anything. Just keep on kissing him like time is stretching in an eternity for you and him, and he thinks it is.

He thinks the world might have truly stopped outside, and he’s not going to complain about it. No, instead he holds your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. He keeps on kissing you, getting drunk to the taste of you, and when your hands move up to tug at his hair, arousal erupts in him so loud his tongue grows more insistent, startling you. 

Startling him, too.

You pull away, though you remain close enough for him to imagine that this is real, to imagine that he can kiss you again. But then Taehyung invades his thoughts, and anxiety pumps in his blood until he finds himself regretting it. But he doesn’t say it yet though, needing this moment to stretch for a little longer still.

He wraps his arms around your waist in a tentative embrace, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your warm breath tickles his neck, yet he remains immobile, appreciating your proximity. His grip on you loosens as he realizes a new song has started playing while you kissed, and he stiffens slightly when you peck his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

He’s dead. Jungkook is a dead man, and he pushes you away gently, until your gazes connect. Your eyes are shining, and you’re so beautiful, so angelic like this he thinks it doesn’t have to matter.

But it does. It does matter that you’re Taehyung’s sister, and though it kills him to say it, Jungkook murmurs, “Now you’ve had a fake Valentine Day kiss.”

Read chapter three here!

☆☆☆☆☆

Come scream with me please I can't he's so ashgfknglefg

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

#chasing cars ch 3.5 #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series #btswritersclub

[teojira]

Really enjoyed your headcanons on Caeser and Proximus, do you mind doing the same with Noa?? 😊🙏

[Noa and day to day life with him!] [Headcanons!]

Summary: Noa takes you back with him to his home, and the clan accepts you as one of them. Even if you're concerned otherwise.

Word count: 1k (Jesus christ)

Warnings: None that I can think of! Can be read as Platonic or Romantic! You and Noa are attached to one another. (Yes, this is me projecting.)

A/N: Noa is so near and dear to me, I literally did not mean for this to be so long, and I STILL cut myself off. This is 1k words worth of headcanons for him, and it is not enough. I'm Noa's #1 fan, I am sorry to all my friends and family who have to hear me talk about him constantly.. Ask me for Noa anything, and I will give you the world.

Do me a favor and strap the fuck in for this it's alot.

I am so glad someone asked about Noa bc I got ALOT to say.

Noa has had it with humans, Mae put him, his clan, and countless others at risk, he should not trust humans, really he shouldn't, but he can't help it. She also betrayed you in the process, and now you're alone.

You agreed to help him and Mae against Proximus, you're the only one who actively goes up against Proximus as well.

Swinging and trying your best to try and get Proximus off of Noa, yelling and crying while the other apes just stare in fear. (Later on they apologize, but you don't hold it against them.)

It's a huge risk to invite a human with them again, but then he remembers Rakas words, Caesars words, and decides he can't told another's decisions over you.

So when he gently grabs your hand in his, looking down at you with a strained smile, blood seeping from his lips, you follow, back to his clans land.

Now on to the good stuff, it's kinda awkward finding your place among the eagle clan, the elders are gone, his father Koro is gone, there really is no guidance as to where to place you.

You drift mostly, either helping Dar or helping with the young ones, teaching them how to read and write, helping fish, farm, the basic tasks.

Dar loves you by the way, doting on you and making sure no one messes with you in a harmful way. She teaches you their customs and traditions, all the while playfully teasing you about Noa. She's a mom, she knows.

You're happy with your work, happy with your place among the clan. It's genuinely shocking how much they were willing to forgive and to not hold any grudges against humans after one ruined everything.

It helps that Noa takes accountability for you, somehow so trusting that you will not cause harm. His faith in you speaks volumes and you remind him everyday that it won't go to waste.

All he does is send you a sweet smile and ruffles your hair.

You find yourself helping Noa alot with crafting new tools and contraptions, being a second pair of eyes that can catch onto things he can't.

"Very smart." "Thank yo-" "For an Echo." and he does that stupid cute little sniff afterwards and it makes it tremendously hard to hit him.

He's such a little shit I fucking hate him.

You're his shadow when his duties permit, he's taken on a higher role of the clan, sometimes going out for days at a time but you're always at the edge of the Village waiting for his return, anxiously working your bottom lip until you see him in view.

You're both extremely attached to one another, Soona and Anaya become attached to you too, dragging you along in everyone's free time to go climbing, to eat, to hunt, just about any group outing has you as their fourth member.

Noa was worried about them accepting you, but they love you just as much as he does.

It makes his heart swell when he sees you and Soona together, giggling about something surely only you both understand while Anaya groans and complains about being left out.

It's like you've always been meant to be with them, to round out their group.

Soona and Anaya will offer to be the one to carry you this time, they do want to, genuinely, but Noa won't let them 99.9% of the time, He's used to your weight, he trusts that he can keep you safe the best. (Says the ape that literally almost died multiple times doing stupid shit)

"Noa worries too much, they will be fine." "Anaya is clumsy. Can't trust you to carry yourself, much less echo."

He tries not to carry you everywhere, but it is so much more convenient than waiting for you, so he scoops you up often enough that the stares don't bother you anymore.

Remember how in the movie, all the apes sleep together communally? Well you're at first extremely nervous about that, not wanting to ask what exactly are your accommodations because surely they don't want you there with them.

Actually, Noa does, so jot that down.

When you shyly move away, he raises his palm up at you, nodding to the space besides him.

When you don't move, he gently tugs you down, laying on his back and shutting his eyes. The clan hasn't really fully rebuilt and started to gather things needed for shawls and coverings, so it's not strange to him that you cuddle up to him to steal his warmth, peeking an eye open to see your face squished into his side, knocked out.

He wraps an arm around you, incasing you in more warmth.

This is a nightly routine until you finally take it upon yourself to throw yourself on him, he chokes out a breath as you make yourself comfortable.

Soona and Anaya usually join in, he cannot fucking breathe but he's so happy that it outweighs it.

When Mae inevitably shows back up, she sees you out in the distance, you look so genuine happy, so at peace with where you are. You even have some eagle feathers in your hair, integrated into their life that it shocks her.

It's enough to make her put the gun away, grasping at Rakas necklace like a lifeline, sucking in a deep breath to stop her from crying.

Maybe apes and humans can live at peace with one another after all. She hopes you prove her wrong.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#feel free to ask me for more noa hcs! (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE) #teddy asks ♧ #planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #pota #Noa #Planet of the apes Noa x reader #Noa x reader #teddy loves apes ☆

[yumeboshi]

Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．

𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”

。no literally 。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire. 。“oops, you caught me.” 。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in. 。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go. 。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone. 。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for. 。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.

“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.

how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.

the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.

“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.

when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.

“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself

。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre 。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs. 。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this. 。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either. 。“please, love. now im quite offended.” 。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks. 。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good. 。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.” 。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork. 。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.

STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.

you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.

“what…?”

his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.

“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”

sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.

“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“

“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.

you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.

“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”

your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.

“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.

#𐙚．。articles #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sunday x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail yandere #sunday smut #sunday x you #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yes I only write for these two at this point

[kizoken]

cw: whiney satoru, hate sex from your end, afab!reader, mdni, hand job, sub!satoru.

⤷masterlist

⇢ ˗ˏˋthis became hella long for some reason, its like 1k words 👩‍🔬

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗫-𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗?; is what you typed in the search bar on your laptop. your eye began to twitch in the midst of scrolling down to find the answers to your predicament.

each and every 'answer' google gave you are: legal or psychological advice, which was the last road you wanted to ride on. satoru was... harmless, to you at least. he was just hurt. and needed to cling to a safe space. however, you were not that safe space anymore.

'hi sweet!'

'how's ur night?'

'i miss u'

'like a lot'

'i think i left some stuff at your apartment,,, may i come for them?'

and so on, the myriad of texts jingles through your laptops' notifications. a month and a half, you had broken up with satoru gojo a month and a half ago. and he somehow always forgets things he left in your apartment and texts you how you are, how your studies are going, or sending you drunken audios telling you how much he misses you. even escalating to tell mutual friends how much he loves you and desperately wants you back.

any other man would have ruined your life by now, but satoru's devotion to you was unshakeable. it was you, you, you, you, you, you, you. you plagued his mind every second of the day. he told you this in one of the countless nights he found comfort inside you. he would never hurt you. you were sure of that.

he was just a little obsessive, that's all. in the end you felt terrible, for him, and for yourself.

'tomorrow afternoon, come.'

'stop bothering.'

you were not a fan of being mean to your ex, though being this direct might steer him to lower his intensity. even though if you found it somewhat cute.

'alright see ya >w<'

a giggle rose from you as you watched the last message he sent for the day. you slammed your computer shut at the thought of your ex being somewhat cute by his way of texting.

he is not. he is suffocating, that's what he is. that is why you broke up with him in the first place. the pound of your head on your pillow reprimanded you into logic. and now, he was going to be at your apartment tomorrow. whatever the near future held, you soothed yourself to sleep.

"hi sweet!" satoru poorly hid his smile behind a single tulip flower unlike his eyes which were always hidden behind his round sunglasses.

in contrast, you kept your words to yourself, only gesturing the man to step inside to look for his belongings. as he should. satoru eagerly made his way inside and gave you the flower, you had not even a smile to offer him as you coursed yourself to throw the plant on the garbage bin.

"awwe sweet, why must you hurt me so."

"you're here for one thing, and one thing only," his pout was swiftly erased while hearing your words with no emotion, "get your stuff quickly."

"y-yeah, you're right." he then disappear from your line of view and you can finally puff out the air you have been holding.

'how in the world did he manage to look so good even after all this time?'

it was the circling question that kept you in a choke hold. in your mind, he should look like a mess. you wanted him to be. although everything is in the details; his hair inched further down his former clean-cut frame and some stubble began to peak out from his smooth face. his buttoned-up shirt had wrinkles here and there but, it made the angelic, almost god like man, to look normal. even daring to say in the brink of a pathetic look.

you took a moment to sit down on your living room couch and collect yourself. the thought of him a complete and utterly obvious mess stirred some found emotions inside you. and grew at concerning rates while thinking about it.

"all done. sorry for bothering you." he showed his pearly teeth with a cheeky smile while telling you such bold-faced lie, "so..."

he trailed closer to where you sat, "i guess i won't be seeing you in a while-"

the box you had prepared for him to place his thing in, tilted as one of his hands reached to settle on the back of his neck, "shit!"

gojo cursed as he saw one of his signed baseball balls fall onto the ground and roll under your grey couch, "i'll get that."

swiftly he ducked on his hands and knees to look for his precious item under your furniture. however, his position made your eye tick and scratch that part of your brain that made you have this disdain and attraction towards your ex.

his tucked shirt skid upwards, revealing your ex's smooth milky skin and back dimples. you did not recall ever seeing his body divots. were you so blind as to not pay well and good attention to someone who you're supposed to like?

somewhat and somehow your fingertips began to trace along his dimples and spine, sending shivers all along his now stiffened body, "oh, uh-shit...sorry."

you shifted your weight away from gojo, as you avoided sight of him, quite flustered, "i-i really didn't know what i was doing."

gojo had taken the ball in a rush and straightened himself. his back facing you while settling his belonging on the box, "no, please... keep going."

"what?" you finally settled your vision on him, fidgeting and obviously anxious. however, he reached for the hand that caressed his back.

"keep touching me... please."

"so this is what you wanted huh?" the pitchiness in your voice lowered. was he planning to lure you in once more? to his unforgiving hands? to your utmost disdain and misfortune, he was winning you. just like he wanted.

"i knew you were pathetic. but begging for my touch? bending over? you really hit rock bottom, huh?" you inched closer to whisper near his face. his silver hair had the scented fragrance of strawberries, which lured you in further to his body.

melodies of pleasure seeped from deep within satoru through his fine lips. the graze of your fingertips alone made him tread the fine line of his sanity. a bubbling feeling of distaste overcame you, with him and especially yourself. because it was ridiculous of you to feel this way due to him being under your ultimate control.

now your hands traversed through his toned abdomen, from his clothed nipples down to where his bellybutton is supposed to be, "should i go lower?"

the stiff tent in his pants was prevalent and seemed painful enough. and along with your melt worthy touches, satoru could only nod and nudge his face near yours.

as he desired, you unzipped his pants. not only was the bulge ever present, but a wet spot dampened the soft fabric of his underwear. and with zero hesitation you let his dick free out of its confinement, only to find the sweet, pleasurable relief of your touch as you began to stroke along his base.

"more, s-sweet, mmhhm, more~"

a low laugh emerged from you, marveling in awe and repulse at his pleadings, "spit on your cock and i'll go faster satoru."

from your lidded eyes you see the string of drool leave his lips and land at the tip of his cock. with your thumb you began to coat around it, sticky with his own drool and precum, the white-haired man could only grip at your thighs in ecstasy. his praise fueled word echoes through your mind, rendering you to pump around his length faster and occasionally palm his balls.

at this point satoru, a carefree man to most, was under you mumbling in a lovestruck trance. chained to your presence alone, and you thought how fun it would be to just let him cum with just your words.

the moment you stopped giving attention to his length, your ex desperately reached for your sticky hands, trying to make you go further and for him to find that sweet release with your guidance.

"cum right now or i won't let you fuck me in the couch right after this." you commanded, and not long after strings of heavy cum sprinted towards your living room table and the box of satoru's belongings, "shit. now that impressive."

his head laid limp on your shoulder. his dick twitching happily, "c'mon." you taped his arm.

his sky eyes were blown out from his release, however he looked quite puzzled.

"i'm fulfilling my end of the promise..." the t-shirt you had on flew somewhere else in the room, leaving you bare chested. satoru now more composed than before, began to fiddle around with the fabric of the couch. it seemed like he wished to convey his thoughts to you, though you were the one to encourage him to speak.

"what... are you gonna make me kick you in the balls now?"

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᜊ(𐭅" ॑ ॑")𐭅♡

#⛤﹕◟𝐊𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒¹⁹⁸⁷ #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru gojo smut #anime smut #anime x reader #anime x you #anime x y/n #anime x female reader #satoru gojo x female!reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk drabbles #gojo drabbles #anime drabble #anime oneshot

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 ꒱ 박성훈

summary : you and your boyfriend were too much alike in a lot of aspects, especially stubbornness

genre : angst, suggestive, sunghoon x afab!reader, drabble tws : language, suggestive content, arguments author notes : this ones for my wife xx word count : 0.6k

"sunghoon," your thumb and index finger pressed to the bridge of your nose in an attempt to ease the tension coursing through you, "you're not listening right now."

truthfully, neither one of you wanted to hear the other out — and that's resulted in an argument. one that seems like it won't fizzle out no matter how much the two of you raise your voice.

you both had too much pride to give the other the last word. you were too much alike; your friends and family only confirming your hard-headedness. but, you had to admit that he was pretty when he was mad.

"no, y/n," he laughed, humor twisted with frustration and disbelief, "you're not listening. i have to do this, it's not something i can just skip — believe me!"

you rolled your prettily-done eyes, which only furthered his annoyance, slumping into the wooden chair you paired with your pine table, "i don't care that you made other plans — we decided months ago. we have to go, sunghoon, we've already canceled... twice!"

"and now i'm saying that i can't go. you can go by yourself, can't you? it's not a big deal, is it?"

your mouth practically hit the floor at his audacity, "it is a big-fucking-deal, babe! i need you there, you know this!"

and despite being mad at each other, the love was still there. he drove you up a wall, but at the end of the day, there's no one else you'd rather have push your buttons. yes, it was a hostile environment right now, but it was bound to break; it always does.

"well, i can't go."

your head met your hand, elbow pressed to the table, "fuck," you were going around in circles, neither one willing to compromise, "sunghoon, how many times do i have to tell you that i don't care? you promised the last time we canceled that that would be the last time. so, you just lied to me?"

it seems like fuel to the fire was the only thing you both could throw at it, poisonous words with a twisted tongue, "oh my god, are you kidding me? you're really going to fucking hold that to me, baby?"

your eyes widened, hand hitting the wood with a smack, "well, when i promise you shit, i actually mean it. so, yeah, i'm going to hold it over your fucking head."

"we're getting nowhere." he stated the obvious, making you huff, "let's talk later."

he wasn't asking, but you honestly didn't have a care in the world for it; to you that was just as good as a suggestion. you got up, approaching him with a calm demeanor. you didn't want to back down, but you knew you'd be here for a lifetime if you didn't let the dust settle — even if only a little bit.

as you were passing, you mumbled out a defeated, "fine, hoon. do whatever you want."

you felt a firm grip on your wrist, him pulling so you'd face him again. and before you got the chance to angrily-question his intentions, his lips were pressed to yours, a firm, yet gentle, hold on your cheek.

you both felt the wire snap, your bodies relaxing into each other.

between alternating sides, he whispered a confession of love to you; reminding you that despite the attitude, he was made for you.

you pulled back momentarily, still prideful enough to not let him have the last word, "i'm still mad at you."

"you know i'll make it up to you, baby," he smiled, hoisting you onto the wooden surface carefully, and slotting between your parted knees, "i promise."

but he was just like you, wasn't he?

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

#kpop #kpop writing #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpopidol #kpop bg #romance #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enha angst #enha #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #sunghoon #kpop requests #enha sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x you #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon imagines #engene #enhypen suggestive

[ellecdc]

how down bad are they for you—like I can totally see Sirius bending to every which way IDK WHY. just imagining them at hogsmede and literally if you want this candy he’s getting it, he’s buying you a drink, etc. Doesn’t think anything of it. JAMES TOO OHH HE’D BE SO DOWN BAD.

Remus I can see saying no lol, softly and kindly, but he’d stand strong 😭 maybe 😭

Honestly?? I see them all as absolute simps in their own little ways

James: down bad and horribly obvious about it. Certified lover boy and sweetest angel in the whole wide world

Sirius: plays it cool but he’s just as bad as James. Nothing is too much for his sweets - teases a lot but really, he thinks you hung the moon

Remus: I think Remus tries or pretends to have more of a back bone than he does but he strikes me as the type to fold (quite happily, at that) the moment you bat your eyelashes. Cannot say no (at least not twice)

Regulus: I think his main forms of love language (how he shows love) is acts of service and gift giving so I don’t even see his partner having to ask for anything or wishing for anything - he’s already bought it for them/already doing it for them

Barty: would burn the entire world for you

Lily: i think she’d be a bit more practical/‘stern’ about it, but after saying no and you walking away, she’d go back and buy it

Evan: i see him as somewhat impassive and uncaring (but not in a mean way, in a way where it’s like “what’s the big deal rn?”) so if you want to buy something he doesn’t understand why we wouldn’t just buy it? But also, why do you want it so bad?

#ask elle #marauders headcanon #elle’s headcanons

[artstatues]

I promise. - g.h × reader.

wc : 545

pairings : grayson hawthorne x fem!reader, from the inheritance games.

synopsis : in which you find your boyfriend in a situation where he thinks hes worthless, that you'll leave him one day.

warnings : nothing really, js angst and fluff, and grayson being grayson ( hes depressing so thats the warning ), also reader using "baby" bc i cant think of a pet name to call gray

a/n : wrote this as a drabble ish but think im happy with it. reader's kinda fine this time ngl

taglist : @never-enough-novels, @reminiscentreader, @urbanflorals, @kozumesphone, @reyna-obsessed, @lxvebelle, @shuhuaspookie, @off-to-the-r4ces, @pockyyasii.

You entered the room to find Gray sitting on your shared bed, staring blankly at a wall. “Gray?” You called, walking closer towards the bed. “Hm?” He softly answered, snapping out of his trance, finally looking at you. “You okay?” You sat down next to him, reaching out a hand to place on his soft cheeks. He slightly flinched at the contact before answering. “Mhm, I’m okay, love.” He gave you a soft smile and a reassuring nod, but you’ve known Grayson for too long to think any of  it was real. “Tell me? Please baby?” You pouted, looking up at him, eyes locked with his gorgeous icy ones. “I’m okay, really princess. Thank you.” He insisted with a soft peck on your lips. Any other girl would have thought he was perfectly fine, but you didn’t think so. It was a habit of his, to distract others and divert their attention to something else rather than himself. “Grayson. I’m serious, please, tell me what’s wrong?” You practically begged, trying to form the softest, most convincing puppy dog eyes ever. “Mmmm,” Grayson softly groaned, breaking eye contact. You moved closer, now straddling his lap. “Look at me, please baby,” The whine in your voice was now more evident. You’d know better than to push Gray, but you couldn’t see him like this. He was going to be distant, again. He was going to close himself off, again. He was going to lock his heart up in a steel cage, again. You gently reached for his chin before tilting it towards you. “Please, don’t close me off, not again.” You were becoming so desperate at this point, maybe too desperate. “I’m sorry, princess. I won’t close you off again, I promise, I won’t.” His eyes quickly returned to yours, but you could see the void behind those cold blue eyes. “Talk to me then?” You begged. “Fine– sure, yes, sorry. See this is fucking why–” He finally talked, before apologizing then harshly whispering to himself. His hands found his hair, softly yet aggressively pulling at it. His first sign of panic. “Hey, hey, Gray, breathe, breathe. Yeah just like that, breathe. Talk to me?” You panicked as well. “You’re going to leave, once you really figure out who I am behind all of these fucking layers, you’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He quickly sputtered. You were still trying to figure out what he just said. “You’re gonna leave, trust me love. You’re going to leave once you realize that I really am worthless below all these layers I display.” He took a shaky breath. “Grayson, please, look at me.” You gently pulled away the hands that were in his hair. “You mean so much to me, Gray. I’d never leave you. I would never. You mean the world to me, leaving you would be my biggest mistake.” You explained, some parts of you begging for him to realize it. “Really?” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, so did his gaze. “Yes, truly, I mean it. All of it. I promise with my life that I’ll be here for you, baby.” You smiled up at him. “Promise?” He whispered. You extended a pinky in response before he interlocked his own with yours. “I promise, handsome.”

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #the hawthorne brothers #tig #thl #tfg #tgg #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #grayson x y/n #grayson x you #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my work

[songsofadelaide]

"Can you kiss me?"

Your words hung thick in the balmy night air, so much so that you felt like you could take them back at any moment.

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

Yet Satoru heard them as clear as day with how close he stood before you. His blue eyes were bright with confusion at your sudden request, though it was something he felt inclined to fulfill.

For many long years, you two orbited each other like celestial bodies, sometimes following the same path but most of the time just passing by each other. Satoru was one of your older brother's closest friends, so it only made sense that he would see you as the little sister that you were. But you weren't just his best friend's little sister to him— you were a brilliant girl in your own right, but perhaps too smart for your own good. Men always wanted docile, unassuming women for themselves so their decisions would never be questioned, but you were neither, thus never fitting into your society's mould of how women should be. You were what they called the fruit at the bottom of the basket, but you were also the light of your elder brother's life— and his beloved headache, for you posed a problem for him if you couldn't find a husband for yourself anytime soon.

"All my life I've waited patiently, but I truly want to know what it's like to be kissed."

It doesn't have to mean anything, you remember yourself saying earlier. But you've adored him all your life and you've heard it from your brother yourself that Satoru would never give you the time of the day...

But he approached you carefully, so unlike he normally would, his blue eyes taking notice of the nervous quiver in your glossy lips. At that very moment, you had his complete and undivided attention and you couldn't quell the heaving of your chest as your heart jumped inside you, only for it to burst as he leaned down to tenderly press his lips against yours. His lips were warm against yours, moving against yours, coaxing you to follow his lead, and you could have sworn he moved to cup your face in his palm. And you couldn't tell if it was your cheek that was hot or if it was his hand that was burning.

Satoru kissed you with a fervour you've never experienced before and it somewhat scared you. What if you search the world for this kind of feeling but never find it again? You wouldn't even be surprised if that's the case. You loved Satoru, after all. For the longest time.

It doesn't have to mean anything, you reminded yourself, but that kiss was everything to you now. And you only asked him because it would mean so little to him since you held almost little to no sway over him at all.

You part from him with tears prickling your eyes and his breath still on your lips, but you don't forget to thank him for granting your request, inane as it may have sounded to him. He could only follow the trail of your dress as you disappeared into your family home once more, as you were obviously trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment.

It was only when you haunted Satoru's dreams in ways he never thought you would— in ways he never thought he'd look at you— that he realised you actually do hold a lot of sway over him.

He woke up the next day and found a bowl of fresh fruit on their dining table, but he searched the very bottom of it for the one so bruised yet tender, and it proved to be the sweetest of them all.

"Now, what do I do with this new information?" He chuckled to himself as he savoured the moisture and flavour, only to be reminded of the tremble of your glossed lips from last night.

✦ Inspired by Penelope and Colin's first kiss (Bridgerton S3 x 01) omgdfdg I have so many emotions abt that scene lol.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛 #mari's prompts 🎠 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #this is so bridgerton core lol #bridgertoncore #bridgertoncore or something similar #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #this is mari's gojo satoru shoujo leading man agenda #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

[fefern]

How about some jealous headcannons for jiyan, calcaro and scar? Do they even get jealous at all? I just think about how I would flirt with them all, Rover is stronger than me. Anyway, have a lovely day ❣️

✧˖° when they're jealous. | jiyan, calcharo, and scar headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: jealousy, jealousy...or whatever that oliva rodrigo song is. what's it like when these wuwa men are feeling a bit jealous?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): jiyan, calcharo, scar, and gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi sweet anon!! thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy these jealousy hcs, i hope i did you justice since i'm not a very jealous person myself > <;;!! requests are open, and all nsfw asks can be sent to @jiayouqi!

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

the general of the midnight rangers is a pretty tough guy; he understands that you’re a sight for sore eyes, so of course people are going to look at you. 

i don’t imagine him getting very jealous, he knows that you can handle your own and trusts that you wouldn’t flirt back with any of the people that try to hit on you.

but, if someone’s flirting with you for longer than a few minutes, or you’re looking uncomfortable, he’s quick to stir into action.

after all, you’re his partner, no one gets to flirt with or dote on you except him. 

will smoothly slip a hand around your waist, give a quick glance at whoever’s hitting on you, and usually one look is enough to drive anyone away since he’s in a position of power in jinzhou. 

if for some reason they’re stupid enough to fight back on him, that’s when he’s quick to snap back, mentioning how you’re his beloved and to back off. 

jiyan will always turn to you and ask if you’re okay after anyone flirts with you, wanting to make sure you’re not uncomfortable.

he’s kind of like a dragon in that sense, guarding his lovely treasure with a level of protectiveness. 

he sometimes gets jealous also when you’re gone for long period of time or vice versa, because he loves spending quality time with you and being unable to do so makes him jealous of those who can spend more time with you.

after he’s done being jealous, the feelings subside quickly and he quietly will hold your hand for a while, as if to let people know to back off. 

overall jealousy score: 4/10, not easy to stir to jealousy but will be protective and stand up for you if you need him to. knows you can handle your own and that you’re strong enough to deal with the situation. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

very vocal about when he’s jealous, the opposite of jiyan.

“BABEEEEE come on pay attention to me please please please,” puppy vibes

he loves having your attention, so when you’re getting flirted with or your attention is elsewhere, he gets very pouty very fast. 

you’re meant to only have eyes on him! how can you be talking to someone else?

“love why were you talking with them and not me? :c” “scar that was a child-”

if someone has the guts to flirt with you while he’s around, he’s there in a flash and stands behind you protectively like a bodyguard. 

very confrontational. he’ll tell them that you’re taken and that you have the best boyfriend in the world so he suggests they piss off. 

will not hesitate to get physical and fight someone if it means protecting you and getting someone to lay off the flirting.

the only way his jealousy will subside is if you give him the attention he wants or tell him to stop getting upset before anything escalates.  

he’ll immediately comply, even if he’s resistant or grumbling about it. 

scar just wants to make sure no one else makes a move on his beloved, and even the simple idea of someone taking you away is enough to make him see red. 

gets clingy when he’s jealous too, always wants to reassure himself that you’re his and his for life. 

overall jealousy score: 10/10, it doesn’t take much to rile him up, and he gets very snappy when anyone even dares to look in your direction. you’re his and his only. some kisses and sweet words of affirmation will calm him down fast though.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ calcharo ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

in the middle of the pack when it comes to being jealous. 

the main reason he gets jealous is because of possessiveness, but he’s almost never vocal about it. a silent guardian of you. 

he can control his temper well, but his whole aura changes when someone even gets close to you, and it’s enough for most people to turn away from even flirting with you.

however, one touch from someone other than him and he’s ticked.

quickly grabs their wrist with a strong grip and gives them a deadly look. 

“leave.”

his voice is deep and drips of venom, and if looks could kill, they’d be dead in an instant.

afterwards, he silently will just give you a nod and the two of you will go back to whatever you were doing. 

he gets on the defensive though after someone flirts with you once during an outing, and he’s almost hyper aware of everything going on around him now. 

is also the type of person where, if someone’s persistent with their flirting with you, or if you tell him that you’re uncomfortable with the other person, he’ll simply nod his head in acknowledgement. 

the next day, they’re either dead or seriously injured, and it’s the talk of the town; you know he was the cause of it. 

he won’t mention anything about it unless you say something, and if you do, he’ll huff. 

“no one makes my lover uncomfortable.” 

overall jealousy score: 7/10, not very vocal about it and is level headed, but if someone dares to try and flirt with you, he’ll turn the scene dark fast.

#wuwa #wuthering waves #wuwa headcanons #wuthering waves headcanons #jiyan #calcharo #scar #wuwa jiyan #wuwa calcharo #wuwa scar #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves jiyan #wuthering waves calcharo #wuthering waves scar #wuthering waves jiyan x reader #wuthering waves calcharo x reader #wuthering waves scar x reader #wuthering waves jiyan headcanons #wuthering waves calcharo headcanons #wuthering waves scar headcanons #jiyan x reader #calcharo x reader #scar x reader #wuwa scar x reader #wuwa jiyan x reader #wuwa calcharo x reader

[danielcalmdown]

Here's a few thoughts i have about Disco Elysium and it's lack of philosophical approach towards Harry's experiences. (Not to mistake it with psychology. There is plenty of that in Disco and the characters and ideologies are pulled apart in many fun ways.)

Explanation below the cut, so it's not a long-ass post.

So, Harry is very much suffering. He says "I am in pain. I have no idea how to get better, I'm about to fucking give up." What he gets as response, from his own mind and other people, is things like: "Get your shit together. You have to go through this hell. It will be awful, depressing and boring. Forget her. Stay strong, don't give up, you will eventually feel better. This is how normal people live. Do it for the (...)." This is encouragement. What it does is it keeps him on his feet and helps him move forward. But it's the only type of response he ever gets. What it doesn't do is challenge how he experiences his life in the first place. There is not a single sentence, a thought, any kind of spark in the game that would begin some sort of reform within him. He's the same sad, old Harry utill the end. The rest is accessories.

Beyond that, the gameplay is screaming at you: SEIZE THE MOMENT! There is so much work put into describing things happening around Harry. And so much fondness towards that world. But it's just there, next to him and his pain. Beautiful and worth living for, but it's not used to reveal anything that would inspire him to change. Something about humanity, the meaning of his suffering, maybe a hint about that hole in the world. Yknow, philosophical stuff. Even the miracle of the story, the phasmid, answers Harry's most existential question with "I don’t know, nobody knows." It's not there to guide him away from the vicious circle he's stuck in. It's more like a pat on the back. "Look, something incredible happened today! Life can be great sometimes." Here are a few statements meant by the game to be impactful: "Something beautiful is going to happen", "The night is always darkest before the dawn", "One day, i will return to your side", "The road to healing is going to be a long one. You will make it, some day." They sound like coping mechanism. They are motivational, hopeful, but don't speak about reality. "I'm suffering RIGHT NOW. The world and my head are still fucking broken. Heelp!" Harry cries out. "Hope for a better future. Go for a run. Focus on your job, get a hobby, take your mind off the pain." Try to be happier while remaining the same. Switch alcohol and drugs for non destructive activities to help you endure through that persisting pain. Look out of the window each morning, wait for that special thing to happen. And when it happens? The core stays unmoved. You don't even know what it is about you, where lies the first mistake. You learned nothing new about yourself.

I think all of this fits with the creators' views, which are sparsely hinted at throughout the game. "God is indifferent. This is our curse", "The world is inherently meaningless", "True love is possible in the next world, for new people, it's too late for us." Maybe that's why the game didn't allow Harry to change, because it doesn't believe there is anything out there that could help him. He's a human, therefore he has no choice but to think and suffer exactly the way he does. So yeah, that's my thoughts on it. Feel free to comment, disagree and enlighten me if you think i'm wrong. I'm always open to change my mind.

#disco elysium #english is not my first language so sorry for any awkward thingies dingies #i know the game is about politics and everything is a political allegory #and politics can save the world but I disagree #you can't do good politics without good philosophy #philosophy is loove philosophy is lyyfe

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt 5

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of miscarriage/stillborn

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5

I couldn't put this off anymore. I had to talk to Logan about the night in the delivery room and I had to tell Lando about my reoccurring dreams. I know I technically haven't done anything wrong and I haven't cheated but something about my dreams have been feeling a little too real. My feelings for Logan might be too real.

No, stop that Y/N, Logan treated you like shit, there's no way you possibly like him. No. You're not that naive , you know better than to have feelings for a man that treated you like shit. But he also gave you a kid. A kid you so desperately wanted, one you needed to have, to love, to hold, to care for, to cherish after my first born passed.

I'd gotten off the phone with Logan shortly before Lando re-entered our room.

"She's finally back down, her pacifier fell out of her mouth." all Lando said before he got back into bed, trying to cuddle me. I felt so awful with myself and felt like I didn't deserve his comforting touch so I scooted away and attempted to get out of bed.

"Hey what's wrong? Where are you going?" a hint of sadness in his voice but that was quickly covered up with a simple clearing of his throat.

"Shower. Me and Lily are gonna hang out. Maybe you and Oscar could have Yelena for the day? I know Oscar has been begging to take her out and be the favorite uncle but I don't trust him alone with my daughter." a chuckle leaves my lips as I try not to sound nervous.

Why is the thought of having a civil conversation about the well being of my daughter with her father making me feel so icky and nervous? Part of me longs to have a healthy relationship with Logan, I mean he was my everything. Logan made me believe in love, he gave me 2 wonderful pregnancies even if I'll be able to never meet my other baby.

I quickly gathered things that I would need for my shower, a McLaren t-shirt, a pair of jeans, a bra, underwear, my Bose speaker, and a pair of slides before I made my way into the bathroom. I turned the shower on hot before I set everything down and got all my hair products that I'd need.

I took my H/C hair out of the bun I'd just had up prior, letting it fall past my shoulders in a curly nappy mess. I loved my hair don't get me wrong, but all the products I needed for it and how fast it would get nappy would sometimes be too much for me.

Stepping into the hot shower, I let it flow over me and letting my hair get soaked before I started lathering on some shampoo. While I was working the shampoo on my scalp, I couldn't help but imagine a life where Logan and I were endgame, a life where we didn't have split custody of our daughter, a life where when me and Yelena went to the paddock we were going into the Williams garage to cheer for Daddy instead of going into McLaren to cheer for mommy's new boyfriend, a life where little Theo James Sargeant was still alive.

Thinking about little Theo always made me emotional, I couldn't ever imagine a moment in the future where I could talk about him and not want to sob and quite frankly, I don't want their to ever be a time where it doesn't. I'll feel like I forgot about him and that's the last thing I want.

Maybe if Theo was alive none of this would've happened, me and Logan would still be happy, we could have 2 kids instead of 1. If Theo were here all my problems would be solved, I would be happy, Logan would be happy, but I wouldn't be with Lando. Life had its ups and downs, I wouldn't trade my relationship with Lando for the world.

It felt like I was lathering my scalp while being deep in thought for hours but in reality, when I snapped out of my trance I heard the ending of Taylor Swift's All Too Well (10 minute version). I quickly rinsed the shampoo out before quickly conditioning and brushing my hair out. I put my hair up in a little bun to allow my hair to soak up as much conditioner as possible while I scrubbed the rest of my body clean, I decided that today would be one of my ‘everything’ shower days so I also grabbed Lando’s razor that he has in the shower and shaved my legs and armpits.

Once I was done shaving, I took my hair out of the bun and rinsed the conditioner out while simultaneously raking my hands through my hair to get rid of the knots that formed. Once that was done I turned off the shower, wrapped my velcro towel around my body and wrapped my hair in a towel wrap. I’d looked at the time on my phone while trying to change the song, only to realize that I’m supposed to meet Logan at a little coffee shop that was 10 minutes away, in 20 minutes and I wasn’t ready yet.

I’d quickly a no makeup makeup look before quickly drying off my body and throwing my clothes on. I took my hair out the wrap and quickly, but efficiently worked some product in my hair to make sure I still had the curl and bounce when it dried.

I was so busy rushing out of the bathroom that I almost ran right into Lando who was holding Yelena.

“Oh there’s mommy!” Lando says while he points in my direction while simultaneously poking Yelena’s tummy “We were just coming to say bye to you. Oscar is waiting in my car” a smile appears on my face. Lando’s been so good to me and how do I repay him? I’m going behind his back to talk to my ex and baby dad about reoccurring dreams I’ve had about us being a happy family after our little “moment” in the delivery room.

I place a quick sweet kiss against Lando’s lips before I place a big fat one on Yelena’s head “Sorry I took long in the bathroom. Took an ‘everything’ shower, you know how it is.” a small chuckle leaves his lips before we hear a honk from outside “You guys should get going before Uncle Oscar gets mad” I say while I also place delicate pokes on Yelena’s tummy. A quick nod, faint goodbye and a goodbye kiss from Lando was what I got before he left.

I checked my phone again, I had 5 minutes to get to a coffee shop that was 10 minutes away. I quickly shot Logan a text saying that I was gonna be about 5 minutes behind schedule because I got caught in ‘traffic’. I figured it was believable when Logan shot me a ‘All good, I’ll be here when you arrive’ text.

——

When I’d arrived at the little coffee shop I spotted Logan in a quiet corner. He quickly spotted me because he’d basically leaped out of his seat to welcome me.

“Hey, I figured since you were gonna be late, I’d just order your drink for you. I got you a y/f/d, I hope that’s still your favorite.” the nervous smile that sprawled across his face made my heart clench. He was so cute, oh how badly I wanted to grab his face and pull him close to me. I shook my head to rid the thoughts in my brain.

“Yep, once my favorite always my favorite.” I graciously took the drink from his hands before we both sat down. We sat in silence for what felt like forever before Logan started the conversation.

“So, I called you here because, oh man, how do I say this? I asked you to be here because,” he let out a shaky breath before continuing “because ever since that night in the delivery room, I haven’t stopped dreaming of you. About us, all of us being one big happy family. Me, You and Yelena just living the life and I can’t help the yearn for that. I know you want nothing to do with me but” he placed his hand on top mine that rested on my drink “I know I fucked up big time all those months ago, and I know you hate me and want nothing to do with me, but please, give me one more chance. One more chance to prove to you that I’m a better, changed man. To prove to you that I’ll do anything it takes to be the best father and husband I can be. I love you and Yelena, will all of my heart, soul and bones I love you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, I can’t tell him I’ve had the same dreams and that I feel that way too. The universe has a weird way of trying to get people together.

I pull my drink up to my lips which caused his hand to fall off mine. “Logan, I- We can’t- I’m with” I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath before I tried to continue “Logan, I love you more than you’ll ever know. You gave me a beautiful daughter and a life I never thought I’d have. I owe you so much but that debt I owed you went straight down the drain the moment you said that I should’ve killed myself, the moment you said I was another piece of ass to you and the moment” a few tears slipped “The moment you said you could impregnate ANY woman.”

I placed my drink down before grabbing a napkin from the dispenser on the table to wipe the fallen tears off my face. A beat or two passed before anyone said anything.

“Do you ever think,” Logan waited a beat before the continued, almost as if he was regretting what he was about to say “Do you ever think that if Theo were still here, none of this would’ve happened? That we’d be happy and together, that Yelena would be able to meet her big brother?”

I could see the tears forming in Logan’s eyes and the tears that once stopped falling came right back.

A choked sob left my throat at the mention of our late son. My body shook with so much pain and sadness that I hadn’t notice Logan left his seat. Not at least until I felt his big strong arms wrap around my body in a tight embrace. I could feel his body shake in his own quiet sobs. We stayed like this for what felt like hours, just in an embrace, sobbing, in public, where everyone is staring.

“Y/N?” Oh no, I recognized that voice. We pulled apart at the mention of my name turning to see Lando pushing a stroller and Oscar following suit “I thought you said you were hanging out with Lily?” Lando sounded suspicious as he looked between Logan and Me observing both of us red eyed. “Why are you both crying? Baby, are you okay?”

“Oh! Yes! Haha, Lily was running late so I grabbed a drink and saw Logan here and then we started talking about Theo” I said wiping the tears from under my eyes again

Oscar’s eyes closed and his face contorted in its own way of saying ‘oh no’

“That’s so funny babe because” Lily walked in “We actually ran into Lily and she mentioned nothing about your guys’ plans. Actually said that she’s been trying to set up a day where you guys could spend the day out and shop and have girls night but said that you kept postponing it. So why are you here with Logan and why’d you lie?”

The tension between us so thick you could hack it with a butcher knife a few times and it wouldn’t cut.

I’ve been caught in lies before but this one, I don’t know how I’m getting out of it.

“I promise I will tell you everything Lando, just not here”

Lando turned and whispered some things to Oscar and Lily whom nodded in agreement before handing them the stroller and the diaper bag and kissing Yelena goodbye.

He’s taken on such a natural fatherly role in her life that to the outside world, Yelena was his daughter and that’s what I admired about him, that’s why I fell in love with him and that’s why I really, really can’t lose him.

“We’re leaving.” was all Lando said before I whispered a goodbye to Logan and followed him out the door and to his McLaren.

The car ride home was awkward and silent. It hadn’t felt this bad in a car alone with him since I told him all those months ago about what happened with me and Logan. After what felt like an eternity we finally arrived at our house. The walk inside and into our bedroom was also awkward and silent.

Oh how I hated when Lando was mad at me.

“Why’d you lie?” it sounded cold, kinda made my heart break “Why were you out with Logan and why did you lie to me?”

“I-” I released a shaky breath “I met with Logan because” I was cut off

“Are you still in love with him?” betrayal and heartbreak coated Lando’s voice

“No! Absolutely not! Lando please don’t think like that!” I quickly walked over to him cupping his face and used my thumb to wipe a stray tear from his face

“I was with Logan because he wanted to talk about that night in the delivery room. He wanted to tell me that he’s been having dreams of us being a big happy family. He asked me what he could do to get me back, to win us back” the look in his eyes told me he believed what I was saying

“and what did you say?”

“I told him that after the way he treated me that I would never get back with him.” I felt him nod against my hands that were still holding his face before I wrapped them around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug feeling his arms wrap around my waist and squeezed tight.

I wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in his tight embrace. I felt like nothing bad could happen, I felt on top of the world and that’s how I wanted to stay, but all good things eventually come to an end.

The churn of my stomach is what pulled me away from Lando and I knew I was gonna be sick. I rushed myself to the bathroom before spilling my guts into the toilet. Lando quickly rushed in to hold my hair back and rub my back.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna grab you a bottle of water” Lando said before he quickly jogged to the kitchen.

I’ve been sick before, but this felt different. I’ve felt this kind of sickness before. Twice, actually. I rested my head in my arms on the toilet seat before frantically looking around in the sink cupboard. I had to search quickly before Lando came back, I couldn’t find it and I didn’t want to call for Lando. One more quick search of lifting things up is when I finally see them.

pregnancy tests.

-

HEY!! I MISSED YOU!

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