#*taylor swift voice* you need to calm down

[televinita]

For over 3 years we have known blissful peace in this apartment building, have never heard a single sound from other residents unless they were in the hallway, nothing at all except regular thuds from above that sounds like they drop weights on the floor. I thought all those stories about apartment buildings and "thin walls" were either urban legend or something we got to avoid by a) having a building built in the 1960s, with presumably higher-quality construction, and/or b) a corner unit that only shares walls on one side.

But damn, we now have awful neighbors, featuring some asshole who is CONSTANTLY yelling at someone else -- he will go on for 10-20 minutes straight, and then be at it again an hour later, at least twice a week. He is currently on his third fourth fucking round as we speak, over the course of 5 hours.

Someone there is also regularly playing music so loud and/or close to the wall that it's roughly the same volume as when the church across the street does an outdoor service in the summer with live music and we have our windows open. Muffled, but still clear enough to know what song it is (at least it's mostly adult contemporary, not anything with a lot of cursing or, god forbid and knock on wood, heavy bass).

On top of this, the people above now have a baby, who can regularly be heard wailing. 🙃🙃 (still less annoying than Bellowing Bull Man though)

[sweetteainthesummerx]

✰ sweet nothing✰

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...

word count: 2.2 k

notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming

quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.

he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.

needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.

through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

you must've used his spare key he gave you.

he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.

he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.

you've never looked more beautiful.

you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.

"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?

the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).

you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.

he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.

you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.

you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.

a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.

"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."

"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.

you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.

as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.

the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time

it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.

you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.

quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.

the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.

now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.

a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.

he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.

afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.

"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.

god, you're brilliant.

he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.

"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.

"you tell me that all the time."

"because I mean it, babe."

now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".

you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.

he wants all of you, forever.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"

ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.

so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.

"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."

"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.

she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.

he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.

he tells her that you were there.

"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"

"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.

"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."

ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.

after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.

you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.

"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."

he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"

"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.

"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"

"but who takes care of you?"

your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.

"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."

he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.

"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.

his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.

"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."

"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.

"i know, quinnie. i love you too."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.

it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.

the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.

"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.

quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.

"bro, what did you say?"

quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.

the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.

"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."

you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.

"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.

"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.

"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.

jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."

"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.

jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."

you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.

"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.

"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."

"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.

"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.

"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"

"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.

"please tell me she didn't-"

"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.

"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.

he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.

"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.

jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.

"yeah, me too, man."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.

you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.

without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."

he laughs, "you love it."

you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.

"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.

he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.

"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."

"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.

"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."

you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[lewisvinga]

so high school | max verstappen x fem! singer! reader

summary; in which max feels like a sixteen year old in high school whenever he’s around y/n

word count; 976

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; requested ! i dont listen to taylor swift so im not familiar w this song, but i hope this is good enough!😫 n so sorry this took a bit longer than usual, a lot of things happened in my life rn + i’ve had major writers block 🙁

masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

i just want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you

Max stood at the podium with a proud smile on his face. Another race won another race closer to being the world champion. The sound of his nation’s national anthem filled his ears as his hands found their way through his blonde locks.

His bright eyes scanned the crowd searching for her.

The start of the season was always a grand event. Drivers often brought their girlfriends along with them to enjoy a sunny Bahrain and the beginning of the season. When the first race of the season came around, Max couldn’t help but ask his girlfriend of just a few months and a world-famous singer to accompany him.

He thought it was a good idea. He really did.

However, the second his eyes landed on her wide smile from the top of the podium, he felt his heart skip a beat. She stared at him with so much love in her eyes that he became flustered. His cheeks began burning up and he secretly hoped and prayed that others would think his rosy cheeks were from the bright sun.

He had to hold back a laugh, a giggle even. Max Verstappen, The Max Verstappen, giggling and blushing over a girl that was already his? It was unheard of. He knew if he kept staring his cheeks would be too red to be just from the sun.

As quickly as his eyes found her, he looked away and instead focused on calming down his heart rate.

i’ll drink what you think and i’m high from smoking your jokes all damn night

Max was always the type to drink his coffee black. No cream. No sugar. That changed the moment he started dating Y/n and learned about her addiction to a milky and very sweet iced vanilla latte.

She claimed it helped her and her melodic voice that he adored so much.

It was another late-night session in the studio and the Dutch driver had brought over two iced vanilla lattes, one with just a little less sugar than the other.

He honestly hated the sugary milky beverage. He could barely stand a sip but he refused to tell Y/n that. He only drinks the vanilla iced lattes because he loved to see her face light up whenever he’d give her the rest of his drink because he ‘didn’t want to finish it’.

“Here, have the rest of mine. I don’t want it.” Max said with a chuckle as he noticed her pout after she finished her own.

“Are you sure, Maxie?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Here.”

Y/n laughed and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a pink lipgloss mark. Max couldn’t help but laugh with her as she happily took his drink.

She sat down across from him on the couch in the studio. She began to tell him a story about something that happened to her and Lando days prior. He honestly wasn’t focusing much on the story. His focus was 100% on the smile on her face and the laughs she’d let out every other sentence.

If her laugh was a drug, he’d sure be high every second of the day. Hearing her laugh was an addiction to him. He adored it and if forcing himself to drink a sugary ice vanilla latte to accompany her during studio sessions just to hear her laugh, he’d do it without a problem.

the brink of a wrinkle in time, bittersweet sixteen suddenly.

Y/n let out a yawn as she walked down the halls of her and Max’s shared home. She needed a break from writing songs. Her mind was blank and she couldn’t think. The iced vanilla lattes weren’t helping her creativity flow and neither Jimmy nor Sassy helped.

She was walking towards Max’s gaming room where she knew he’d be on the simulator. She suddenly heard him say her name and she stopped right outside the slightly open door.

“No, yeah, Y/n and I are great. It’s just-“

“Just, what?” She recognized Charles's voice and his laugh.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me! I won’t tell a soul.”

“No, it’s stupid.”

“C’mon, Max.”

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as her heart rate began to pick up. She immediately assumed the worst. Did Max cheat on her? Did he no longer want to be in a relationship with her? Did she annoy him?

She bit her nails as she anxiously waited for his response.

Max sighed, running his hands through his blonde locks. “It’s just that I feel like I’m a teenage boy in high school around her. She makes me flustered, like actually flustered. It’s like I’m sixteen again!”

Y/n almost let out a sigh of relief from his words, but kept quiet as she knew that he would hear her. She quietly yet quickly walks away. She finds herself back in the living room with her notebook in hand. She began scribbling across the page, finally getting the creativity she needed to write the last song for her album.

She hums in satisfaction as she finishes off the song. ‘So High School’ she had scribbled at the top of the page. Right as if it were on queue, she hears Max’s voice.

“Any luck with songwriting?” The Dutch driver curiously asks, sitting beside her on the couch.

“In fact, I’ve had plenty of luck.”

“Let me see.” He mumbled, his hand reaching towards the book.

“No!”

“C’mon, schat! Let me see!”

Y/n quickly kissed his cheek in an attempt to distract him. Fortunately for her, it did. His cheeks began to turn a rosy shade of pink. He rolled his eyes, moving his attention from the notebook to Sassy who found her way to the couch.

She had to hold back a laugh as she noticed his ears also turning pink. He really was like a 16-year-old in high school.

[goldfades]

★ HARD LAUNCH ───JOE BURROW

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by anon! kelce!sister x joe burrow, secret relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | obviously, taylor swift MENTIONED!! cause of course, i just had to. big brothers jason/travis, teasing, overall fluffy read

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this may be my new fav thing ever? having joe burrow, TAYLOR SWIFT, the kelces + kylie kelce in one family seems so fucking iconic and insane at the same time omg, i lowkey wanna make this a series

You don’t mean to catch his eye.

In fact, you’ve spent most of the evening trying very hard not to. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself later when the weight of it all feels too much, and you’re scrambling for a clean excuse to explain how it even started. Because that’s the thing about Joe Burrow—he’s not someone you plan for. He’s the unexpected storm on a clear day, knocking you off balance and leaving you to question if you’d ever been steady to begin with.

It’s Travis’s fault, really. Your brothers have this way of making themselves larger than life in every room they walk into, whether it’s Jason’s hearty laugh or Travis’s electric energy pulling people into his orbit. And you’re fine with it. Comfortable, even, in their shadows, where you can sip a beer, quietly people-watch, and dodge any unwanted attention. But tonight, at this NFL charity gala, the Kelce sibling spotlight is a little brighter, the event packed with athletes and reporters—people who know your last name. It’s harder to blend into the wallpaper, especially when you’re sandwiched between Jason’s dad jokes and Travis’s loud retelling of some outrageous offseason story.

And then there’s Joe. Sitting a few tables over, clad in a sleek black suit that fits him so well it’s borderline criminal, he looks… well, like Joe Burrow. Sharp jawline, blondish hair perfectly tousled, an air of calm confidence that somehow feels louder than any of the noise around him. He’s laughing at something—something Sam Hubbard said, probably—and you catch yourself staring just a second too long.

You’re not entirely sure who looks away first. All you know is that by the time the dessert plates are cleared and the speeches begin, you’re hyperaware of his presence. You can feel him across the room, like his attention is a physical thing brushing against your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. He’s just... looking. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

It means everything when you’re stepping out onto the terrace for some air, your sleek, black and red YSL heels clicking softly against the stone, and you hear the door open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a tension pulling taut like a string, and you’re suddenly grateful for the cool night air because your skin feels impossibly warm.

“You’re one of the Kelces, right?” His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, and somehow more disarming than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

He chuckles, stepping closer. There’s a deliberateness to his movements, like he’s not the type to rush but always knows exactly where he’s going. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair.” You turn fully now, leaning back against the railing. He’s even more striking up close, the sharp lines of his face softened by the golden glow of the terrace lights. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Then, because your brothers raised you to never back down from a challenge, you smirk. “And you’re Joe Burrow. Didn’t think you’d need an introduction.”

“I don’t. But I’m still glad we’re having this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Don’t know,” he says, leaning casually against the railing beside you. “You tell me.”

And just like that, you’re hooked. Not in the obvious way, where fireworks explode and violins play in the background. It’s subtler than that, a slow burn you feel deep in your gut—like the start of something you shouldn’t want but can’t seem to resist. Because Joe Burrow isn’t the kind of guy you go looking for, but now that he’s found you, you’re not sure you want him to let go.

And a few months later, the relationship between you and Joe isn’t just an open secret—it’s become a storm of speculation. The internet sleuths had started piecing things together long before either of you admitted it, thanks to vague Instagram posts, overlapping locations and that one time someone spotted you in the background of a Bengals training camp photo.

Still, you’ve both remained tight-lipped, dodging questions and letting the rumors simmer on their own. It’s worked so far, but keeping something like this under wraps when your last name is Kelce and his is Burrow? It feels impossible most days.

The rumors, though, are front and center when Jason and Travis bring it up on New Heights. It starts innocently enough—one of their usual tangents about social media chaos. But then Jason, ever the instigator, leans in with a mischievous grin.

“So, Trav,” he says, dragging it out just enough to make Travis squint suspiciously. “What’s this I’m hearing about our baby sister and a certain quarterback?”

Travis groans dramatically, throwing his head back like he’s already tired of the conversation. “Man, here we go.”

“No, no, seriously,” Jason presses, laughing. “It’s all over Twitter. ‘Joe and the Kelce Sister’—people are going crazy.”

Travis tries to deflect, muttering something about people needing hobbies, but Jason isn’t letting it go.

“I mean, listen,” Jason continues, grinning directly at the camera now. “I’m not saying I believe it, but if it were true… Joe Burrow? Not a bad pick, kid. Not a bad pick.”

Travis finally gives in, throwing up his hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s settle this once and for all.” He swivels toward the camera with exaggerated seriousness. “Get her on the phone.”

The producers, who are clearly loving this, cut to a break while Travis pulls out his phone and FaceTimes you. You answer after a couple of rings, your face appearing on screen with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

“What do you want?” you ask, already bracing yourself.

Jason wastes no time. “Alright, tell the people: are you or are you not dating Joe Burrow?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Seriously? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes, seriously!” Jason says, leaning forward like he’s trying to peer through the phone. “I need to know if I should be worried about a potential Bengals-Kelce family feud.”

“I’m not even answering that,” you say, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay,” Travis cuts in, holding up his hands. “But just… hypothetically, if you were dating him, what would you say about the guy? Like, first impressions.”

You narrow your eyes at the screen, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. But you can’t help it—you smirk, your tone deliberately nonchalant. “I mean, hypothetically… he’s not a bad-looking person.”

Both brothers lose it, Jason practically howling with laughter while Travis points dramatically at the camera. “Not a bad-looking person!” he repeats. “That’s all we’re getting?”

You shrug, keeping your expression as deadpan as possible. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, wiping his eyes. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But just know, we’re watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you hang up. But the damage is done—the clip is bound to go viral within hours. And you know the internet will analyze every single word you just said, dissecting it for confirmation that, yes, Joe Burrow and a Kelce sibling are absolutely a thing.

As you sit back on your couch, phone buzzing with texts from friends who caught the livestream, you can’t help but wonder how long you and Joe can keep this secret before it all inevitably comes spilling out. But for now, you smile to yourself, thinking about the way Joe teased you about your brothers earlier that morning. He’d probably find this whole thing hilarious.

—

The off-season brings a rare stretch of peace for both you and Joe, a time when the usual chaos of his schedule fades into long days and quiet nights. You’d been looking forward to the annual Kelce family lake trip all year, a week of boat rides, bonfires, and general shenanigans with your brothers, their partners, and a rotating cast of nieces and nephews. But this time, Joe is here too, woven seamlessly into the fabric of your family life in a way that's both surreal and comforting.

The trip itself is perfect. Joe is surprisingly great at keeping up with the Kelce energy—he plays cornhole with Travis like they’ve been doing it for years, listens patiently to Jason’s never-ending dad stories, and even lets your mom convince him to try her "world-famous" potato salad (a task not taken lightly). Your dad, famously hard to impress, quietly declares Joe "a good kid," which might as well be a five-star review.

The vibe is even more electric this year, thanks to a certain high-profile addition to the Kelce orbit: Taylor Swift. She’d tagged along with Travis, her easy charm and megawatt presence somehow blending seamlessly with your loud, loving family. Taylor and Joe hit it off surprisingly well—you’d caught them once, deep in conversation about some indie band neither of them expected the other to know. And when Taylor found out Joe was a secret Swiftie, she’d teased him mercilessly, promising to quiz him on song lyrics over dinner.

The two of you have been careful so far, sticking to the usual boundaries when phones are out and cameras are snapping. But then comes the moment. The hard launch.

You don’t know he’s planning it. It’s Joe, after all—calm, collected, never one to do anything impulsive without a hundred layers of thought. The picture goes live on his Instagram late in the afternoon, just as the sun is starting to dip below the trees.

The photo is subtle in that effortless, Joe Burrow way, but anyone with eyes can see what it is. It’s a snapshot of the dock, golden light reflecting off the water. You’re sitting with your back to the camera, legs dangling off the edge, wearing an oversized Bengals hoodie that could only belong to one person. Joe’s in the frame too, though only partially—just his legs stretched out next to you, and his hand resting casually on your knee. There’s no caption, just the kind of emoji Joe loves to use, simple and vague—a single wave 🌊

The internet explodes.

You realize it’s out when your phone starts buzzing nonstop, notifications lighting up your screen like fireworks. Group texts, Instagram DMs, Twitter tags—everyone and their mom has an opinion about the post. Your brothers are the first to call.

Joe wanders into the kitchen then, shirtless and still damp from a swim, his hair curling slightly from the lake water. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you on the phone, and you wave him over, switching to speaker.

“Speaking of,” Jason says loudly. “Joey! Nice post, buddy.”

Joe smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Thanks. Figured it was time.”

“Time?!” Travis is howling now. “You just dropped the most casual ‘we’re dating’ announcement of all time, and all you’ve got is ‘figured it was time’?”

Joe shrugs, unbothered. “Seemed like the right vibe.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Well, congrats, I guess. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Welcome to the family,” Travis chimes in, still laughing. “But just know, you’re never gonna live this down.”

Joe grins, glancing at you, his expression softening. “I can handle it.”

Later that night, as the two of you sit by the fire, Taylor strumming a guitar nearby while your brothers argue about s’mores ratios, your phone buzzes intermittently with notifications. You can’t help but marvel at how unshaken Joe is by all of it. He just laughs when you bring it up, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Let them talk,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got nothing to hide anymore.”

And as the fire crackles and your family’s laughter drifts through the night, you realize he’s right. The world knows now, and somehow, it doesn’t feel scary—it feels freeing.

[maybankswhore]

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍.

summary: jj’s having a panic attack and you’re the only thing that calm him down.

“ and i’ve been meaning to tell you , i think your house is haunted , your dad is always mad and that must be why— and i think you should come live with me and we can be pirates and you won’t have to cry. . . ” WARNINGS: light mentions of jj’s relationship with luke. talks of anxiety & panic attacks.

JJ’s chest physically ached. It was hurting , deep down inside him and he swore that he felt it in his soul. The whole weight of the world felt like it had landed right on his shoulders , weighing him down and making him delirious. The line between real and fake was beginning to get blurred , and the only thing he knew was that he needed to see you.

It had been just been another night. Another sad and unfortunate night of Luke getting too drunk and taking his anger out on him.

JJ felt weak and ashamed. He was angry at himself , angry at the universe. And he was slowly just breaking down. He couldn’t handle it right now , for some reason it triggered him deeply and he couldn’t just brush it off.

As soon as he stormed out of his own house , he was on his way to yours. All he could think about was you , how gentle you would be. JJ needed you to help ground him and he wasn’t going to be able to get through what was building up inside of him without you.

He knocked on your front door anxiously. He was bouncing slightly , cracking his knuckles. As the door flew open , his heart skipped a beat hoping it was you ; though it dropped when he realized it wasn’t.

Your mom opened the door with a bright grin when she saw it who it was: “JJ , dear! How are—” Her smile faltered noticing his disheveled state. His bouncy blonde hair was a mess and obvious stress was radiating off of him and her own chest squeezed at the sight.

She didn’t know everything about JJ’s life , but she knew enough. Everyone on the Cut knew about Luke Maybank and his tendencies and your mother could only frown when she thought about it. She had loved JJ. He was charming , always polite to her. He was a good boy.

“Oh , honey.” She said with a soft , sad smile. “Come in.”

“I–Is Y/N home?” JJ stammered , scratching the back of his neck. Avoiding looking her in the eye. Any other day he would’ve automatically jumped into a conversation with her. Smiling and laughing , giggling in the kitchen as he gushed about you. But today was different. And he just couldn’t.

“Of course , she’s upstairs in her room.” She had nodded towards the stairs.

With one nod and a forced smile as to say thanks , he shamelessly rushed up the stairs. He didn’t even bother knocking , bursting into your room.

You had looked up from where you were sprawled out on your bed watching something on your phone , jumping at the sudden movement. But as your eyes focused on JJ , your heart fell. “Baby what’s the matter?”

Baby. The minute he heard your voice , he let everything out. He started crying. The loud kind. Shaky breathing and shaky hands as he walked toward you. You watched in concern , scooting up with your arms wide open for him. He fell into them. Laying on his belly with his head in your chest , gripping onto you for dear life.

You didn’t say anything. You just let him cry. You cooed sweet nothings , rubbing his back up and down. You hummed the songs you knew he liked , playing with his hair , kissed the top of his head. All of your attention was immediately put all onto him , and as he cried , he melted into your touch. He focused on how his skin felt where your fingertips touched , how calming the familiar smell of your favorite perfume was. He used all of his five senses on you , easing the tension that was happening in his head at the moment.

A few minutes had gone by before he finally was able to calm down. His breathing was still shaky but it was better now. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first.” He mumbled. He didn’t bother moving though. He couldn’t. JJ felt like he had to hold onto you as tight as he could , in fear that if he didn’t you’d slip away.

“Don’t apologize for that.” You murmured. “Is it home again?”

“Yeah.” He sighed , shaking his head. “Isn’t it always?”

You hummed softly in response. Seeing JJ like this was never easy. It broke your own heart to see his hurting. There wasn’t much you could do , but if you could , you’d burn the whole world down for him. “It won’t be like that forever.”

“Sometimes it feels like it.”

“It won’t.” You promised. Your thumb brushed his cheek softly. “I’m gonna take you out of there one day. It’ll be me and you in our own little world , living together and celebrating every holiday in the most cheesy way , eating frozen pizza and watching Hoarders at midnight.”

JJ’s eyes fluttered closed as he pictured it. He smiled. The idea gave him something to hold on to , to hope for.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

“Thank you for being my person.” JJ said. “I’ve never had a person like this before.”

“Never thank me for that. It’s so easy to love you.”

And you were the first person who had ever helped him believe , that he wasn’t as hard to love as he deemed himself to be. . .

[norikuna]

SO IT GOES — R. Sukuna

prologue. → newly-wed life is hardly what you expected it to be, its hardly a surprise. after all, how many people find themselves bound to the notorious king of curses? but after a frosty few weeks, sukuna finds the easiest way to win you over is when he's on his knees, and between your thighs.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. implied arranged marriage, sukuna-like jerkish behaviour that you might expect, softer ending, a bit of ooc sukuna and he's hardly an ideal husband but this is his version of trying, øral (fem! receiving), reader is referred to as 'little wife', questionable dynamics?

word count. 2.8k! song inspiration. so it goes — taylor swift, reputation a/n. up to u to imagine how reader ended up in this marriage lol

mp3. scratches down your back now, so it goes.

ryomen sukuna was not a being of great patience. as the king of curses, feared and revered for centuries, he had watched dynasties crumble, empires burn, and warlords kneel. but none of those victories compared to the relentless, quiet struggle he now faced: winning over his new wife.

it was absurd and annoying, really. why did he care what an impudent human thought of him? he had armies of souls quivering in terror before his throne, realms that chanted his name with bitterness and fury dwelling on their tongues.

yet, somehow, he found himself furious that you were as unimpressed with his power as you were by his world.

it gnawed at him, this strange need to see something other than disdain in your eyes. instead, he was growing sick of seeing you merely raise your chin, your gaze cold and unreadable, before turning and walking away, your robes trailing away like a splash of wine-red on stone floors.

and sukuna could only stand there, and scowl, with his arms crossed across his broad chest, resisting the urge to launch a column of fresh flames in your direction.

sukuna's first attempt had been bold, even by his standards. bolder than anything that a mortal like you ever deserved.

he had summoned the finest treasures from his vaults, gifts that would make emperors and khans grovel: strings of blood-red rubies, ivory combs carved with ancient spells, silks that shimmered like starlight under the cold nights. he had ordered them delivered to your chambers, confident these displays would thaw your indifference, for did women not clamour for such things in life?

yet you'd only glanced at them, a faintly polite look of thanks in your expression before you brushed the treasures aside, dismissing them as easily as the breeze stirred leaves in his gardens.

“it’s lovely,” you had murmured, your voice cool. “but unnecessary.”

unnecessary. the word irritated him, a thorn lodged too deep. unwanted. so he tried another approach.

the next evening, he brought you to his gardens — a place few had the honour of ever seeing.

it was quiet, twilight realm, with silver-petaled trees that glowed softly against the eternal dark. the air was scented with flowers that only bloomed under the moon, and shimmering koi would swim in ponds as black as polished obsidians. he'd assumed it would impress you, even move you to see such peace in a palace that was so fraught with the intimacy of blood, flesh and violence. instead, he felt all of his eyes twitch as you gazed around with a calm, fatigued expression, and nothing more.

"it's beautiful," you had admitted, fingers wringing under the long sleeves of your robe, but you had sniffled and looked back up at him with a mild grimace, "but i have really bad allergies to most flowers."

what the fuck were allergies?

later, he learned that it was some ailments that only mortals could suffer, one that would leave them reddened and swollen, gods be good.

sukuna could feel himself growing frustrated, and the urge to toss you in chains was welling up inside. yet, for reasons that he loathed to name, he fought it down. he didn't want you to leave, didn't want to watch you retreat into your shell yet again. but it was difficult letting the silence linger, this strange vulnerability settling deep within his chest.

and as night fell, alone in his vast chamber, the king of curses was ashamed to admit that he was brooding. if treasures and displays of tranquility meant nothing to you, what would? there was another avenue, one that left a curling, bitter pit in his mouth, a trait that he so loathed to display to all.

humility. how boring. how mortal.

but regardless, he appeared at the wide doors of your chambers the next morning. he had even relished the brief look of surprise on your face, but it was quickly replaced by the cool-glass mask that sat over your features once more. he must have made for quite the sight indeed — in his true form, two arms at his side, and the other two folded behind him.

sukuna didn't quite miss at how your gaze lingered over his vast form, and then your eyes twitched.

“today,” he announced gruffly, “i am going to make you tea. myself.”

how ridiculous, he could imagine uraume snickering to hell and back.

he half expected you to laugh or scorn him, but you simply raised your eyebrows, seemingly quietened and more curious. without waiting for you to decline, he led you to a quiet corner of the chambers, where servants tended to lay out such items, as part of a morning routine. there was a simple tea set, nothing adorned with gold or precious stones, but rather plain and finely crafted porcelain.

he waited for you to settle, watching as you arranged your thick skirts and tucked your legs beneath you. only then did Sukuna speak.

"i don’t like you," he said bluntly. "you’re ill-mannered and audacious. i’ve half a mind to send you back."

you blinked, her lashes lifting in surprise, and a small, satisfying crease formed between your brows before your expression turned into a scowl. "that’s rather unkind."

sukuna shrugged, eyes narrowed. "wouldn’t you say the feeling is mutual?"

you glowered back, unflinching. "you can hardly blame me. you’re a demon, after all. i don’t even know you."

"a 'demon' who has been exceedingly kind to you," he replied, his tone curt, clipped. "there are far worse fates that could have befallen you. i’ve been too amiable to a woman like you."

you had jutted your lower lip forward, your skin catching under your teeth, lips dark as cherries dipped in blood and wine, and for a brief moment, sukuna's ire faltered before refocusing.

"and you think kindness is stuffing me into fancy chambers and draping jewels around my neck? like i'm one of your prized and properly bred deer?"

sukuna leaned forward, arching a brow with lazy derision. "don't speak ill of my prized herd. but go on, preach to me of kindness."

your scowl deepened. "you haven’t even bothered to ask me a single thing about myself. showering me with material things isn’t how you make someone happy, much less a wife. the servants told me you forbade me from attending your court, and i'm left alone in this palace for days on end."

sukuna blinked, yes, he had forbidden you from attending court, but that was for both your dignities. it would be disastrous to expose you to the fools, murderers, and curses of his realm — a mortal bride, naive and untrained, would only appear weak and vulnerable.

"fine," he said, with a hint of resignation, and ridicule. "i’ll ask things about you from now on. would that make you feel better, little wife?"

he pushed the tea he’d prepared towards her, holding the porcelain cup in his hands. "now, go on. drink this."

your gaze remained cool as you eyed the steam brewing in the cup. "the first thing you should know is that i don’t like this tea, you picked the wrong leaves. you drink it, good husband."

sukuna resisted the urge to throw the boiling liquid at you, but instead he pushed the cup into your empty hands, "don’t be a fuckin' brat. behave and drink it."

you didn't say anything, but you shoved the cup back into his larger hands, and sukuna snarled, thrusting the delicate tea with a greater force than expected, and splash!

the silent tug of war had resulted in the bitter leaves being strewn across the heavy silk layers of your robes, and despite himself, sukuna couldn't help how his lips quirked upwards at your shocked, angry expression as you launched yourself up, flicking your sleeves in his face like a flapping bird, muttering furious, filthy words that not even a sailor would sing on his most drunken of nights.

as you stormed around the chamber like an angry parrot, sukuna watched you silently, and surely he could not be faulted for this. he would not admit this ever, but it was pleasing to rest his eyes on your figure, on your face, on the cling of your robes to the curve of your hips.

"go sit on the bed."

you whipped around, glaring at him. "i will not! stop telling me what to do."

"enough of being difficult, sit down."

now your voice had begun to falter, "i need to change my robes. this is improper if i'm to leave these chambers."

by now, he had stood and moved quick to the edge of the vast canopy bed, where you had perched yourself gingerly. close, all too close, where he could inhale the intoxicating scent of honey and mint, a fresh soap perhaps?

"i will determine what is proper, and improper," sukuna murmured, and there, for the first time in written history, the king of curses dropped to his knees.

and he relished the flush on your cheeks, a red brushstroke that had appeared as quick as a fallen star, running your skin awash with heat. you had peered down at him, squirming under his many-eyed gaze. and he enjoyed this, relished at bringing himself closer to her long skirts, until his hands found their place on your thighs.

"what are you — " your words trailed off, tone breathier, as he pawed suddenly at the silk, pushing it up, and up. revealing the stockings you had worn to combat the winter cold, where the hem clung to the fat of your thighs, and so close to the silk of your innermost garments that were now starting to feel like an awful suffocation.

"what am i doing? helping you, or is this not a manner of how a husband can treat his unruly wife?"

you couldn't help but feel a shiver run through you, a tremble pass through your very core as the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the pair of warm, large hands that ran along your sensitive skin.

"ah, ah —," sukuna rumbled smoothly, lips quirked up a fraction, "we can't have you suddenly shy now, can we? had quite the mouth on you a minute ago."

you weren't sure where to direct your gaze. to the window outside, frosted from the cold hands of winter. to your hands, which lay at your side, rumpled up in your bundled skirts. or to the blush-haired king between your legs, whose carmine eyes were crinkled in feigned amusement, and darkened with undeniable lust.

he taps the plush of your thighs once more, watching as they ripple under the press of his fingertips, "enough being coy. spread them. i do not have all day."

it would not have been a falsehood to claim that a deeper, headier feeling lay in your abdomen, purring like a beast that begged for its maws to be free. undoubtedly, a puddle of slick would be pressing against the silk of your undergarments, like a translucent stain that created a darker, glossy patch between your legs.

but you did not budge, did not move your thighs further. you loathed to admit this to a living soul, but perhaps you found satisfaction in this. there was a sort of pleasure in watching a mighty being brought low, and close to the apex of your thighs. but it seemed that your husband's limited patience had worn thin.

his dark nails dug into your thighs brusquely, in a tight and unyielding grip, knocking them back as if he had no time to spare for anything else in the world.

"fuck you, you're so -," and then your voice breaks off, as the king of curses is pressing his tongue against the sleek, dampened fibres of your undergarments.

and it's oddly...pleasing for sukuna. how intoxicating. he runs his tongue between his teeth, catching around a fang as he fights back the realisation that this is no chore for him, not anymore. perhaps both parties in this room have their own vested interests now.

he pushes his fingers past the undergarments, where slender fingers find a home in the gloss that's practically leaking out of you, "i do not bore you so much now, do i?"

"shut up, - ah!"

he's practically twirling his middle and ring finger between your folds now, letting them run a smooth dance over glistening skin and it left you keening and whimpering, for he was so so close to where you truly wanted him, needed him.

but you need not even articulate this wanton request for him, for his mouth is back on your core, and he's clearly enjoying this without abandon, and without shame. strands of sweet slick splattered across his chiseled features, clinging to his lips but he seemed to care not, and you could only moan and squeal when his fangs made contact with more force that intended.

one arm has your thighs pinned back, leaving a clear space for him to slot his wide frame in between the gap, and another works to pump fingers between your tight walls. a mortal man may be exhausted to his limits in such a state, after all, what can one accomplish when limited by two limbs?

but your husband is no mortal man. a third hand has been running down your groin, past the hair on your mound and from there, a thumb right on your throbbing clit. you feel as though you forget how to breathe when his fingers waywardly flick around, and you cry out, the feeling leaving you breathless and your heart absolutely pounding for reprieve.

"so now she can behave," sukuna's voice is low, mocking and your hands find purchase in the surprisingly soft strands of his hair, pulling forward, as you can't help but get another jibe in.

"if only you had done, hah - this from the start," your voice curls up the sky, weak to your own ears.

smack!

a sharp and shrill cry left your parted lips, as the thick pads of his fingers had come pressing down on your swollen bud. and you could feel stars building up between your eyes, caressing you and taking your breath away.

sukuna looks pleased, mouth glistening and his crimson eyes narrow, "that will teach you to speak when you're spoken to, brat."

and you can only yank on his scalp harder, relishing in how you can feel his broad shoulder's jostle as you do so. your husband's face is flushed, brows furrowed and later you will wonder and marvel at just how intently he seemed to be enjoying such a task that he claimed was so menial and beneath him.

you pity the servants who will not speak a word, but exchange glances as they bundle up the sheets after this. for it's nothing but a syrup-laden mess by now, sloppy and purely wet.

by now the world has long disappeared behind you, in front of your very eyes, and you can only heave your chest towards the sky, rolling your eyes back and shamelessly giving into the wanton moans that bubble out from your lips.

and sukuna is nothing short of utterly satisfied. one look at his mouthy wife's expression, cherry lips parted in a perfect circle, and brows furrowed like a painting — like arrows leaving their bow and finding their target. you need to finish on his tongue, he needs you to finish.

so he pushes his face into your sloppy, sticky cunt even harder. he even lets you run your hands through his hair (a criminal offence, he is certain but perhaps he'll let you go, just this once). he almost purrs when your hands wander further onto his neck, leaving small scratches that almost make him release into his pants.

but now all his energy is poured into making sure you get your climax, that you submit to him and let him have you.

"are you close, little wife?" his voice is akin to gravel now, raw like each clipped syllable was a little too rough for the air to carry. and he only receives breathy whimpers in response, your hips moving off their own accord against his face.

and it's only when you jolt against him, stiffening and crying out praises to the heavens and to the gods, that he loosens up, and pulls you even closer, till your thighs are spread entirely at the widest angle they may reach, enough to leave the muscles in your thighs sore and aching afterwards, "there are no gods here, wife. you best get used to that."

and afterwards, you cannot help the bubbling, bashful grin that erupts over your bitten, stung lips as you peer at your husband who dutifully rests in between your thighs still, you could get used to that indeed.

"do it again."

[uns4lted]

ꜱᴏ ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡ/ ɪꜱᴀɢɪ ʏᴏɪᴄʜɪ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ ʏᴏ, & ᴋᴜʀᴏɴᴀ ʀᴀɴᴢᴇ

characters: blue lock pairings: isagi yoichi x gn! reader, hiori yo x gn! reader, kurona x gn! reader genre: fluff a/n: i knew i had to make a drabble out of these three cause i swear they are so underrated and they deserve some love! this drabble is inspired by taylor swift's so high school <3

drabble series: So High School pt. 2 , So High School pt. 3

── .✦ isagi yoichi

You spot Isagi in the hallway before he sees you—he always does this thing where he runs a hand through his hair as he laughs with his friends. You don’t even realize you’re staring until your heart skips a beat, and suddenly, you’re pulling your gaze away. It’s like clockwork, how you want to find him in the crowd just so you can disappear the moment his eyes might meet yours.

There he is, talking about practice, the next big game, his goals—always something about soccer. You know you should focus on your own life, your own worries, but whenever Isagi’s around, it’s like the noise fades, leaving just him. And it’s not like you want to talk to him, not exactly. It’s safer like this, hiding in plain sight, watching him from a distance where your feelings can’t betray you.

As you walk down the hall, you sneak one last glance over your shoulder. Isagi’s still talking, laughing, completely unaware of the effect he has on you. And honestly? Just seeing him like this—handsome, confident, and so captivating—makes your heart race every time, even if he doesn’t notice. Maybe one day, you’ll be brave enough to let him.

── .✦ hiori yo

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hiori’s living room, a controller in your hands, trying to keep up with the chaos on the screen. Isagi and Nanase are completely absorbed in the game, their voices rising as they shout strategies at each other in a heated multiplayer match. But you? You can barely focus.

Hiori is sitting next to you on the couch, closer than necessary, his knee brushing against yours every time he shifts. The room feels warmer than it should, the weight of his presence making it impossible to concentrate.

“Hey, try this,” Hiori says, leaning in to show you something on the controller. His hand covers yours for just a moment, fingers brushing your skin, and you freeze.

Your heart does a little flip as his hand lingers for a second longer than it should. You glance up at him, but he’s still focused on the game, his face calm and casual, as if he didn’t just light a fire under your skin with that small touch.

Isagi is yelling something about strategy, Nanase is laughing, and all you can think about is the way Hiori’s fingers graze yours again. This time, it’s intentional—his pinky hooks around yours as if testing the waters. You try to stay cool, your heart racing, praying that neither Isagi nor Nanase notices what’s happening right beside them.

But they’re too busy with the game, and you’re too distracted to care. The world outside the screen fades as Hiori’s hand subtly, slowly, finds yours. It’s like the smallest secret between the two of you, hidden in plain sight, while his friends remain clueless.

It’s just a game, you remind yourself. But somehow, Hiori’s touch makes it feel like so much more.

── .✦ kurona ranze

The night was quiet, just the two of you sitting close under the twinkling lights of the park. There wasn’t much conversation, but that was how it always was with Kurona. He didn’t need to fill the silence with words; he just had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even without saying much.

Your fingers brushed against his on the bench, a familiar connection that neither of you questioned anymore. It was always this subtle with him—little touches, shy glances. He wasn’t loud about his feelings, but they were there, humming softly between you both.

“Kurona,” you broke the stillness, your voice soft. “Tell me about the first time you saw me.”

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening just a bit, like he hadn’t expected you to ask that. He was quiet, as usual, but you could see the faint color rising in his cheeks, the way his gaze darted away for a second. He always got like this when it came to feelings—unsure, but not because he didn’t know what he felt. Just because he wasn’t used to speaking them out loud.

He hesitated for a moment, fingers twitching beside yours before he gathered the courage to entwine them fully. “The first time?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was steady, even though you could see the blush deepening. “I… I noticed you right away.”

Kurona looked down, trying to find the right words. “You were with your friends, laughing about something. I remember thinking… I wanted to hear you laugh again. To see you smile more.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a nervous gesture. “But I didn’t know how to approach you. You always seemed so… out of reach.”

You smiled softly, feeling your own heart speed up at his confession. “And now?”

His eyes met yours again, and though his cheeks were still flushed, there was a calm sincerity in his gaze. “Now? I… don’t feel like that anymore.” He paused, then added, voice softer, “Now, I don’t want to imagine a day without you in it.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his shy but genuine affection. Kurona might not always have the words, but in moments like this, he didn’t need them. You could feel everything he wasn’t saying.

will be making another so high school pt. 2 w/ chigiri, nagi, & bachira! likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[irisintheafterglow]

just too soft for all of it

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "sweet nothing"

summary: you only call bakugo when you need his body. what happens when you need him for a different reason? (prohero!bakugo x reader)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: fwb to lovers, no explicit smut (just implications and allusions but mdni just in case), descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack, angst/comfort with happy ending, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, babe), broken glass, stubborn reader and even more stubborn katsuki

note: is this my coping mechanism for all the 'casual' inspired fics i've seen lately? possibly. will i continue to keep reading said 'casual' inspired fics? definitely. haven't written kats in a hot minute, hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"I need you." 

"I'm busy. This new report shit is going to be the death of me, I swear–"

"I need you right now. Please." Your voice shakes and he mistakes it for horny desperation.

"Aww, you need me that bad? Need me to come and make you feel good, is that it?" He smirks patronizingly and you hear it through the phone, despite your vision going in and out of clarity.

"Katsuki," you breathe, and his hand goes deathly still over his paper. You never said his name like that; you always addressed him outside of the covers as 'Bakugo' or 'shithead' or 'asshole.' He hears you swallow, his senses finally returning and realizing just how exhausted you sound. "I can’t breathe–I think I'm...I think I'm having a panic attack and-and I can't calm down and it's–it's too much and–"

"Breathe, sweetheart," he says before you can continue, his hand flinging open his front door and blasting himself into the darkness. "Just hold on, I'm on my way." 

By the time he’s let himself into your apartment, it’s nearly midnight. He considers toeing off his shoes at the door but quickly decides against it when he spots the broken glass scattered across your dining room floor. You’re hugging your knees close to your chest, so backed up against the floor cabinets that he almost missed you when he looked for you in the kitchen. The glass crunches beneath his shoes as he crouches down to look at you, relief flooding him as he realizes the glass didn’t injure you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trembling even as he peels your arms away from your sides. “It just–I was making late dinner and one of my glasses broke and everything just came crumbling down…” He’d never seen you like this; you were always the collected one, the one who was always teasing him for being stressed when, in reality, you were just better about hiding all the weight on your shoulders. Your breath comes in short inhales and pained exhales and it’s like Katsuki’s body instinctually knows what to do. Taking your hands in his, he presses them against his chest at the exact spot where you can feel his heartbeat. It’s steady as a steam engine, thumping below your fingertips. In through the nose. Without breaking eye contact, he exhales a deep breath, nodding encouragingly when you copy him. Out through the mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he murmurs, breathing deeply again and again and again until your body ceases its fight or flight response. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing.” 

“Katsuki…” 

“We’ll talk after, I promise,” he gently reassures you, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. “For now, I need to make sure you’re okay.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. Even when he knows the situation is de-escalated, he doesn’t dare move his hands, nor stop modeling deep breathing. He waits for you to say that you’re done, to yank your hands away and mock him for being so caring and thoughtful, attributes that didn’t come with your strictly physical relationship. You don’t; you stay there on the floor with him until the tension in your body completely releases, leaving you slumped against your cabinets. You move to position your knees under you, but his hands catch your wrists a split second before your palms hit the floor. You glance at him with a confused expression. “The glass, babe. Lemme put you on the couch and I’ll clean it up.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can clean it when I’m–” You’re cut off by the sensation of being lifted off the ground, his arms effortlessly bringing you against his chest and laying you on your living room couch. “Wait, I can just clean once you leave."

“Stop,” he grumbles with a burst of intensity that takes you aback. “I’m gonna take care of you, so sit and wait until I’m done. Got it?” You blink at him but he doesn’t relent, and you’re forced to nod and wait as he meticulously sweeps and vacuums every single particle of glass until sleep is nudging at your eyelids. He’s just stuck your vacuum back in the closet as you muster up the energy to stand, stumbling in the direction of your room. “Fucking hell, you don’t know when to quit,” he mutters, sweeping your legs out from under you again and carrying you the rest of the way to your bed. 

“Who knew you could be so doting?” 

“You’re mocking me when I’m literally carting you around your own place. Unbelievable,” he scoffs, carefully settling you on the covers and taking a seat at the edge. 

“I’m not being sarcastic,” you reply, your eyelids sleepily opening and closing. “I really am surprised that you’re taking care of me like this.” 

“Of course I’m taking care of you, dumbass,” he grunts. “I know we said no attachment, but you’re more than a body to me.” His voice quiets but you hear it anyway, smiling against the pillow. 

“When were you gonna tell me that, idiot?”

“Not sure. Was waiting for the perfect moment.” He shrugs, reaching over to run his hand up and down the side of your thigh. 

“And you think this is it?” 

“It’s definitely not, but it felt like the right thing to say.” You hum in contentment and he slyly rubs his hand backward just to see what happens. 

“Easy there, cowboy,” you chuckle, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Even when I’m broken, you can’t resist grabbing my ass.” 

“You’re not broken. Don’t say that about yourself. And even if you were,” he scolds, though you know there’s no venom behind it. “Guess who’s gonna be the one to put you back together?” You hum again and he can feel your consciousness slipping. “You gonna let me stay the night, sweetheart?” 

“Is the sky blue, dumbass?”

“Just checking,” he grins, positioning himself beside you and flipping you over to face him. You groan in protest but still mold yourself into Katsuki’s chest, his arm securing you against his body. “G’night.”

“Night, Katsuki. Don’t let your alarm wake me up early or I’ll kick you in the dick,” you warn, your body further relaxing in his warm safety. 

“After everything I’ve done for you tonight? So ungrateful.” You snort, drifting off with a smile on your face that makes his heart stutter. He double checks that all his alarms are off and, for good measure, turns off his phone entirely. No one’s reaching him tonight, not when you’re his first priority. When he’s sure you’re out, he whispers the real reason why, even when it wasn’t a booty call, he rushed to you in the middle of the night. 

“Mmm,” you hum and he freezes, having no idea whether you were responding or just making that noise in your sleep. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[airbendertendou]

you are in love! ♥︎

synopsis : various best friend!characters realizing they like you a lil more when they should  [including bonten!sanzu, draken, senju, izana, aiura, saiki, satan, leon kennedy, and tamaki suoh.]

no pronouns used / gender neutral ; [name] used in place of y/n ; reader makes filipino food in izanas, im not from the philippines so pls don’t expect it to b accurate ; friends w benefits situation in satans ; reader dresses as sophie in tamakis but w pants and a shirt instead of a dress

song inspo ; you are in love by taylor swift 

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 

——♥︎——

SANZU ♥︎

“big, scary bonten man,” you mumble to yourself. sanzu peaks at you over his shoulder as he cleans his gun, eyes narrowing at your tone. “never mean around me though, hm?”

he pauses, head tilting and pink hair following with it. you scoot further up the bed, laying against his pillows as he thinks. “i’m nice to mikey.”

“…that’s your boss.”

sanzu makes a show of rolling his eyes as he clicks his gun back together, satisfied with its new shine. “do you want me to be mean to you or somethin’?”

“why not?” you speak with a grin. the edge of the bed lifts as he stands, putting all his weapons away. sanzu pauses at your words, scrunching his nose in confusion. “definitely don’t look so mean ‘nd scary.”

huffing, he settles back on the bed, still sitting on the edge but a little closer this time. “i kill people, [name]. that’s pretty scary.”

you shrug, sitting up. your feet knock against his knees at the movement. “c’mon, haru,” you tilt your head back so that your neck is fully accessible, “do your worst.”

the room stills and you’re afraid you’ve pushed too far — afraid he might actually take you up on the offer. but something soft is pressed to the left side of your neck within the next second, lifting and latching onto different spots.

you gulp, feeling his responding grin against the middle of your throat.

the right side is given attention now, multiple kisses being scattered randomly. sanzu lifts his lips once more and places them on the base of your neck, his tongue and teeth making an appearance—

“ow, fucker!” you pull away from his touch with a scowl, your hand covering the new bite mark you’ve been gifted with. haru is grinning widely, teeth flashing in the light — you’re surprised you don’t see blood hanging on them. “didn’t have to bite me, haru.”

he shrugs, “wasn’t even my worst.”

you eye him, slowly dropping your hand from your sore and pulsating neck. “i feel sorry for your one night stands, then.”

sanzu hums, his right hand sliding closer to your hip and his body following until you’re face to face. it makes your cheeks heat ; makes you focus on the movement of his lips as he grins. “they won’t matter much anymore, anyways. have someone new i’m seeing.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah,” his lips brush against your neck once more. sanzu tugs at your waist, bringing you closer to him as his voice softens into a whisper and settles against your ear. “if you’ll have me.”

DRAKEN ♥︎

a towel is handed to you, followed by a hoodie you know isn’t yours. draken’s cheeks flush, “in case you get cold.”

with an awkward wave, he leaves you alone. the shower you take is needed, warming you up and calming you down at the same time. no matter how long you’d known him, it was still the first time you’d be with draken all night.

the rainstorm appeared suddenly and disappeared as abruptly. it’d drenched you just as you and draken left the cafe you met at. his place was closer, he’d said, and he asked so quietly for you not to say anything. 

it was weird until you got to his place — a brothel.

“alright in there, cutie?” you’d just stepped out of the shower when the voice followed you through the walls. “ken asked me to check on you.”

they were sweet, the women that surrounded draken. they made sure you weren’t hungry ; didn’t need any refreshments or anything as they led you to draken’s room. “have a nice night!” they leave with a giggle.

draken eyes the smile you’re wearing as you tug his hoodie comfortably around your neck. “somethin’ happen?”

“they’re nice,” is all you say in response. his cheeks heat up once more as he turns away from you, body stiffening. “are you ready for bed?”

“oh—“ he clears his throat and shuffles where he stands. “you can take the bed. i’ll have the floor.”

you shake your head, pulling the blanket back and patting the bed. “i don’t mind sharing. right or left side?”

that’s how you end up face to face with draken, staring absently into the dark as your combined body heat warms the comforter. you can feel and hear him let out a sigh, “you okay? all comfy?”

“yeah,” your voice is embarrassingly breathy. he lets out another huff before an arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “oh— that’’s better, actually.”

draken lets out a laugh, “m’glad. goodnight, [name].” 

SENJU ♥︎

“on the count of three!” senju jumps out of the dressing room adjacent to yours. she pauses, wobbling where she stands before straightening up. her head tilts, “it’s... something, alright!”

you pause, “you hate it.”

“...a little.” senju struts off, grabbing two of everything that catches her eye. she looks over the cloth she’s picked out, nodding in approval. “here,” she stuffs the fabric into your arms, “try this instead.”

you take a bit to figure out what she’d even brought to you — figuring which was the top and which the bottom — struggling to squeeze yourself in. once situated and comfortable, you gaze into the mirror.

it’s cute, watch senju told you to wear. the color is nice and balances your skin out, brightening it and making it glow. the bottoms fit your legs nicely, shaping and enlongating them. you hum in satisfaction, peeking out of the dressing room to see if senju’s done.

“[name]! let me see your outfit!” senju spots you right away. she gestures for you to join her enthusiastically. you open the door fully, scooting out until you’re face to face with her.

you hold out your arms nonchalantly, “ta-da.”

her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly. snapping it closed, she gulps, looking away before her cheeks turned color. you tilt your head, “senju?”

“yeah,” her voice cracks. the outfit she’s wearing is the same as yours — a matching moment, she went with. senju giggles nervously, “yeah. you look... pretty.”

prettier than she’d ever tell you.

IZANA ♥︎

the smell of lumpia and fried chicken coats the room around you. ran had just rinsed the rice, moving to mix together the rice noodles and shrimp for the palabok. kakucho is to his left, slicing boiled eggs so they could go on top.

you let out a sigh, nodding your head at the impressive menu you’d whiped together. filipino food was a little out of your comfort zone, an unkown taste to you. however, today was an important day — a special one. the oven dings, indicating the cake you’d made was finished. 

fresh out of the oven, the simplistic chocolate cake looks and smells delicious. you slap your hands together, “jus’ needs to cool down and we’re ready to go!”

the front door opens suddenly, rindou’s voice calling out a warning as he enters. shion is right behind him, pink-faced and sheepish as izana steps in, hands crossed over his chest. he raises and eyebrow, “what’s this?” 

“uh—“ kakucho adjusts the apron he’s wearing. it matches the one you’re wearing — ran refused one. he looks around, “surprise?”

“rindou! you were supposed to keep him busy!”

the blond shrugs, “he got bored.”

you sigh, closing your eyes as the food you’ve made is thoroughly examined. izana meets your gaze and raises his eyebrow in question once again. “it was supposed to be a birthday surprise.”

“...it’s filipino food.”

“yeah,” you wring your hands nervously. “you haven’t had it in a while, so i thought i’d try making it.”

izana looks over the food again, stealing a bite here and there as he goes. his eyes close ; his chest expanding with the comfort the familiar dishes bring. when his eyes open, they’re brighter ; more tender than what you’re used to seeing. 

your left hand is raised, a kiss being placed on your knuckles as izana pulls you close. “thank you, [name]. this means a lot.”

you grin, “happy birthday, z.”

AIURA ♥︎

in the morning, right after she does her makeup and before her uniform is on, aiura looks to her crystal ball for guidance. just a way to know things will be okay ; the day won’t be weird.

through the crystalline sphere, she sees her hand clasped in someone else’s. giddy, aiura believes this means she’s found her chosen one. the one made for her ; the one who will love her endlessly.

“—has to be the one!” she’s ranting to an unlistening saiki, rambling about her peek into the future. kaidou slips from leaning against her desk at her words. aiura sighs happily, “i can’t wait to meet them.”

a faceless classmate interupts the moment. “some idiots are fighting outside.”

you go to look — aiura can’t even remember when you came into the room. you rub your eyes tiredly before they widen dramatically. “that’s our idiot! aren’s out there!”

people flood outside, pouring out to help their beaten and bruised classmate. aiura is frozen in her seat — how did she not see this? how did a fight just miraculously break out?

a touch breaks her out of her thoughts. you’re holding her hand — frowning and ranting as you lead her outside. aiura’s face heats — you’re her chosen one? her one and only happiness? 

she gulps as she looks up to your face. this changes things. 

SAIKI ♥︎

the day starts normally. kaidou tells saiki he’d spent the night fighting agianst the dark reunion — he was studying all night. kuboyasu fought the urge to threaten an older boy in the school — just barely. nendou had already asked to eat ramen — they’d just gotten to school. 

saiki let out a sigh, eyes staring at the board in front of him. aiura had bought a new perfume that was clouding his nose, his thoughts — everything. she leans her head to the right so that she could meet his gaze. “what do you think, saiki?”

she’s met with silence. the chair behind him creaks as you sit down, a small laugh being let out as you do. aiura pouts your way, “[name], saiki’s ignoring me!”

you tap saiki’s shoulder lightly, just a brush of a touch, before turning to the blond. “don’t take it personal, aiura. you can just ask me what you want.”

“an angel,” she beams at you. aiura turns to face you fully, scrunching her nose at saiki as she goes. “i got some new perfume and nail polish recently,” she flashes her fingers at you. “cute, right?” 

you lean in closer, chin barely brushing against saiki’s shoulder as you go. you let out a small oooh! at the sigh of her glitzed up nails. “super cute, actually!”

she squints, leaning in a little closer as she does. “you’re wearing a new eyeshadow, aren’t you?”

“i am!” you close your eyes completely, relaxing your face so she can see the color. “like it?”

“looks... familiar for some reason.”

saiki peers at you sneakily from over his shoulder, only looking at you from the corner of his eye. he whips his head around before anyone can see. it is familiar — it’s his exact eye color. it takes everything in saiki to not light up in flames at the thought.

SATAN ♥︎

you had been an acquaintance of satan for months now. he’d come to you when he felt upset ; when the only feeling he could name was rage. when the world was burning and erupting inside of him, boiling and spilling out of his seams. he often took his anger out on you — with your consent, of course. he’s bruise you, scratch you and leave his mark lingering in any way he could.

today, though… today was the opposite. there was an emptiness inside of him ; a devoid and barren system that left him feeling nothing.

satan came to you, straggling and stone-faced as he locked his fingers into yours. you’d gotten close during your times together ; he knew every sigh you made and every face you held. you did the same to him ; made him feel comfort and freedom in ways he couldn’t around his brothers. that’s why he usually came to you when any feeling hit — you didn’t feel suffocating the way the house of lamentation always did.

“you okay?” you’re on his lap somehow, thighs sandwiching his own as his fingers dig into your hips. you brush his hair out of his eyes, “satan?”

he lets out a hum. you jostle slightly, hips meeting his torso — satan let’s out a small groan and let’s his forehead fall to your shoulder. “need me to help you relax?”

it starts off slow, your kissing. the usual upkeep is messy ; tangled and rushed as your clothes are ripped away and your bodies pressed tightly. this time, satan is careful to turn your head the way he wants it to, his hands on your cheekbones and guiding your head left and right.

you’ve just unbuttoned his shirt when you feel it. tears, dripping down your own cheeks. you pause, pulling away and letting your hands lift from his shoulders and settle on his cheeks. you tilt your head, “satan?”

his fingertips welted into your back, molding themselves onto either side of your spine like a pair of faded wings. satan breathes in, his chest stuttering with the feeling. he sniffs, nose and eyebrows curving in confusion as he pulls further away from you. “what’s going on?”

“you’re crying.” you wipe underneath his eyes gently, frown on your kissed, puffy lips. “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“i… i’m not sure,” his lower lip trembles. satan falls deeper into your hold, his arms looping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “feeling too much.”

his fingers dip underneath your shirt, and pull it up until you’re bare and exposed. satan smiles tenderly and you grin back, your own hands crawling up his exposed chest. “sure you’re okay?”

“good with you,” it’s murmured against your neck. satan sniffs again before nipping at your throat, opened mouth kisses trailing down to your sternum. “always good with you.”

LEON S. KENNEDY ♥︎

the bar you’ve found yourself at is starting to get boring. you leave after waving eagerly to your friends, shuffling on the sidewalk as you awkwardly pull your phone from its safe spot. a text from leon catches your eye — a mere thumbs up to the long paragraphs you’d sent his way. you scowl only to realize you’re closer to his apartment than you thought.

he wasn’t asleep — he never slept well — but he wasn’t fully awake either. hearing a tap on his door was strange, but leon let it be, assuming his neighbors had hit the wall on their way in.

until a long, drawn out whine of his name flew through the room.

swaying in his doorway was you ; eyes half-lided and your shirt falling down your shoulder. you grin his way, “hi, lee!”

“[name]. why’re you here?” he sounds gruff ; annoyed with the way you seem to always show up at his door. you know he isn’t, though, used to the tone his voice holds. leon holds his door open as you stagger inside, “been drinkin’ again?”

“mm,” you flop onto his couch, “birthday party. got bored. remembered you jus’ came home.”

leon quietly places your shoes by the door and grabs a blanket while you yawn. “missed me then?”

you let out another hum, pulling the blanket he’d given you further up your shoulders. slowly, your eyes peel open and you smile at him softly. “always miss you when you’re gone, lee. like when you’re home.”

home wasn’t something leon remembers. he moved around a lot now, going from city to city for his government affiliated job. home meant the presence of care ; of warmth. leon’s bare, empty apartment held nothing like that. crystal eyes fell to you when you let out a small hiccup, sagging to the right until your head fell on his shoulder.

“m’home for now, [name].”

TAMAKI ♥︎

haruhi adjusts the hat you’re wearing, making sure the blue blouse you’re wearing is tucked in properly. you shuffle in your spot nervously, fingers picking at your cuticles as she nods to herself. her eyes meet yours, “you’ll do fine, [name].”

“says you,” you frown. you stretch the neck of your blouse and clear your throat. “you guys are used to this stuff.”

haruhi swats your hands away, grabbing them in her own. “you will do fine. c’mon, it’s time to start.”

“welcome!”

tamaki doesn’t have time to speak to you ; doesn’t have time to admire the outfit you’re wearing before they’re greeting guests. his eyes stray to you again and again, his attention on you and not the guests who surround him. you go to every table, dropping off sweet treats and teacups as you go.

“—lly cute.” a girl is saying to him. tamaki blinks back into reality as his shoulder is touched. “right, tamaki?”

“could you repeat that, princess?”

her cheeks flare a bright pink as she straightens up in her seat. “i said you and [name] match. howl and sophie, right? it’s really cute.”

tamaki’s eyes find you again as you drop slices of cake off at the twins’ table. they giggle with you, tugging on your hat playfully before you leave. “we do match, don’t we?”

orchid eyes stay focused on you for the rest of the day. even after the club’s activities are over, and you’re helping clean up — he still stares. you finally look back, placing your hat on a table as you go. “yes, tamaki? you’ve been staring.”

“we’re sophie and howl,” his voice is light, faraway as he speaks. “did you notice?”

“only after i saw you.” you smile gently, watching kyoya tally up any and every cost. “a nice surprise for us both, i suppose.”

tamaki stares at your reflection in the window in front of him, eyeing the way you portray your chosen characters. his cheeks barely heat, but he still feels like it’s obvious to everyone. haruhi meets his flustered gaze and grins.

——♥︎—— i know nothing abt cooking n even less abt filipino food so i hope izanas was okay </3 hope they were all okay tbh

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[cher-rei]

bad days— lamine yamal [ l.y ]

you drew stars around my scars [cardigan– taylor swift]

pairing: lamine yamal x fem!reader

summary: after being subbed off during a match, lamine needs nothing more than to go home and lay in your arms

genre(s): fluff and comfort

[w.c: 1k] masterlist

notes: hiiii <33 how's everyone doing?? I'm sorry that I've been gone, I just started writing my finals so I've been a little pit of touch! and probably will be for a few weeks... but it's okay!!

lamine’s eyebrows knitted together in minor shock and confusion at the touchline. the substitution board was up— his number 19 clearly displayed in red to indicate that he was coming off. at the 66th minute.

there was a bitter taste in his mouth as he trudged off the pitch, his head hung low as he took his ansu’s hand since he was coming on in his place. he made sure to send his coach a blank glance before taking his spot on the bench with hector.

it wasn't long before he tossed his water bottle at the cooler in front of him. a frustrated groan left his lips, startling hector beside him who watched with sympathy as his friend sat with his hands covering his face.

with a lopsided smile, his friend lightly tapped his knee in reassurance, but that didn't simmer down the boy's bubbling negativity and hurt.

“I just need this match to end so that I can go home,” he said softly, more to himself as a reminder to pull through the next 30 minutes and sunk deeper into his seat.

as he trudged towards his house, his shoes scraped against the pavement, a rhythmic reminder of his disappointment. the city lights blurred together, a kaleidoscope of anger and frustration.

he burst through the door to his empty home, a sigh leaving his lips as he remembered that his parents were gone for the weekend. but the passage light was on, the same for upstairs which meant that someone was home.

lamine's heart pounded, a painful sting in his eyes but he hurriedly discarded his jacket and shoes to head upstairs. as he reached the top of the staircase, he heard the faint sound of laughter coming from his bedroom.

he opened the door hesitantly, but his tension dissipated immediately at the sight of you lounging casually with your laptop in front of you, your cellphone in your other hand. you were dressed in your sleepwear, indicating that you were staying the evening.

“hey, champ,” you said with a smile and discarded your phone to the side. “tough game?”

lamine's gaze lingered on yours, frustration melting at your gentle tone. “I got subbed off. again,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

your face lit up with empathy at your boyfriend's reply. this wasn't the first time that he came home upset about getting subbed off, he was even worse when they decided to rest him for a match. he went on about how there was no reason to, and that he was fine but you knew better than that.

you spread your arms and without saying anything lamine happily came to lay in between your legs, his head resting on your chest as you placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“talk to me.”

as lamine settled into the warmth of your embrace, his tension began to unravel, thread by thread. your gentle kiss on his forehead sparked a sense of calm, like a soothing balm spreading through his frazzled nerves.

“flick says that I need rest,” he muttered, his voice vibrating against your chest. “but I'm fine. I can keep going.”

your fingers danced through his hair, a reassuring touch. “you're not a machine, lamine. you need time to breathe, and if taking you off with 30 minutes left is the solution that so be it.”

lamine's eyes drifted shut, his breathing slowing as he absorbed your words. he knew you were right, but the frustration still simmered, a stubborn flame refusing to be extinguished.

you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you possibly could. “you're important to the team, we know this. but you're young, and they can't risk losing you. it happens too often.”

his face contorted at the remembrance of pablo, ansu and balde who were out for an entire season, their form slowly returning after their traumatic injuries. but he couldn't help it. he needed to be on that pitch for 90 minutes. he wanted to do everything that he could to help his club succeed.

“I hate feeling like I'm letting everyone down.”

your grip tightened. “you're not letting anyone down, baby. you're taking care of yourself and that takes strength.”

as your words seeped into his mind, lamine felt the weight of his emotions shift. his anger and frustration began to give way to a deeper sadness. a feeling of hopelessness and self doubt.

“I just feel like I'm losing my edge,” he whispered, his voice cracking. his grip around your waist tightened and you took it as a sign to attempt to brighten the mood a little.

you mocked a gasp with a small smile. “what? lamine yamal losing his edge?” your nose scrunched. “impossible.”

your boyfriend’s face contorted in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. “shut up,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of laughter. “you're not helping.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “oh, I'm not?” you poked his side with your index finger and he squirmed a bit. “just know that when you're with me your edge is quite literally non-existent.”

lamine's face turned bright red and he tried to look away to try and hide his smile. “you're enjoying this aren't you?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “I mean it's not everyday that I get to see you this vulnerable right? I'm witnessing history.”

his eyes sparkled eyes sparkled with amusement, and he pulled you closer, flipping you onto your side so that you were looking at him from your side— his face inches from yours. “you're going to pay for this,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he placed a kiss on your temple.

you playfully gasped, your heart pounding in your eyes. “I'm terrified. shaking in my boots actually,” you giggled, squirming out of his hold but he managed to pull you closer.

for a moment the room went silent, lamine's fingers gently tracing underneath your shirt. “I'm sorry for coming home in a bad mood.”

your heart swelled at his apology, saying nothing more and just pulling him closer as a reminder that it wasn't an issue. “it's okay, baby. I've got you.”

lamine's eyes, usually bright and bold, were vulnerable, like a window open to his soul. you could see the pain and doubt lingering in the depths, but also a spark of hope that flickered ever so lightly with every beat of his heart with yours.

you felt like you were drowning in his gaze, but in a good way, like you were floating on a sea of emotions, with lamine as your anchor. the air was thick with tension, but not the kind that made you uncomfortable. it was the kind that made you feel alive, like every cell in your body was vibrating.

his face was inches from yours, his breath whispering against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a rhythmic beat that echoed your own.

and then, like a whisper of reality, lamine's lips brushed against your ear. “I love you.”

your heart skipped a beat and you smiled, your voice barely audible. “I love you too.”

[holllandtrash]

say don't go | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

based off of taylor swift's 'stay don't go' why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'

word count: 5.2k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is kinda sad, mention of smut i guess but blink and you miss it

You weren’t one to let your past haunt you. It was the past for a reason, it belonged behind you, all you could do was grow into a better version of yourself.

But what the hell were you supposed to do when Charles showed up at your door after six months of silence? 

It was a week into December and you were reluctantly putting up Christmas decorations because you were tired of the comments your friends made, telling you to get into the holiday spirit. Now you had the silver tinsel gripped in your hand as Charles stood on your front step, light flurries landing on his coat only to melt immediately after. 

It was the middle of the day and you lived in a crowded area, but passersby on the sidewalk and those driving past had no idea there was a Ferrari driver only metres away from them.

But no one would guess that Charles Leclerc would be travelling to Bristol during his holidays.

“What? Were you in the neighbourhood?” You asked, flicking the tinsel off of your hand and shaking off any remnants. You watched it fall to the floor before looking up, “Felt like stopping by?” 

“Can I come in?” Charles asked, glancing behind you. Was he looking to see if you had company? If you had moved on? Regardless of what, or who, he was looking for, his shoulders relaxed when he could tell you were alone. All that was behind you was cardboard boxes labelled Christmas. 

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't shut the door in your face,” your demand was laced with your usual sweet tone, the same one that always intimated Charles because he never knew what to make of it. Never once did you raise your voice, you never yelled, never showed signs of anger. Even when you were annoyed, you always sounded calm. 

He sucked in a breath, “Well, it’s cold out.” He chuckled, but when you didn’t see any humour in his words he just nodded and moved on. “I was, in fact, in the neighbourhood- well I was in London, just figured I’d make a quick trip out west.”

Those weren’t good enough reasons and he knew it. You moved to grab the door and Charles reacted by holding his hand out to stop it from shutting, eyes trained on yours. 

His cheeks were red, not accustomed to the British winters. He wasn’t wearing mitts and you could see how his hands had responded to the dry air by cracking at the knuckles. His lips trembled, not because he was nervous but because this was probably the coldest his body temperature had dropped to in a long time. 

Which had you questioning how long he had been standing outside your door before finally knocking.

“There’s some things I’ve been meaning to say for a while now,” Charles spoke softly and you could see his breath with each word. “And you don’t need to say anything, but I’d love it if you’d listen.”

Maybe you felt bad that he was cold. Maybe you were curious as to what he had to say to you after so long. Maybe part of you still missed him and if these were the last few minutes you’d get with him, you weren’t going to let them pass.

Whatever the reason, you held the door open and he stepped inside. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his coat off, hanging it on the empty hook on the wall. Your eyes darted down to the shoes he wore and Charles recognized that look, knowing better than to walk any further with his shoes on. He smiled, sort of, remembering the first time you asked him to take his shoes off when he entered your apartment. 

If this was six months ago, you would have had slippers waiting for him to put on, but instead Charles was left to just his socks. You, though, seemed quite cozy. The matching sweats and jumper was only a shade darker than the slippers you wore and Charles almost asked where you purchased the set from, but he held his tongue because now wasn’t the time for casual conversation.

“Tea?” You offered, glancing at the kettle sitting on the stove. It had started whistling only minutes before he showed up but you hadn’t had a second to pour yourself a cup, too caught up in trying to untangle tinsel.

“Don’t want to put you out,” he shook his head, but when you manoeuvred past him to step into the kitchen, he didn’t stop you from grabbing two cups from the cupboard. He watched, standing at a cautious distance, as you made the two drinks the same way you always did. 

Charles was brought back to the time he walked into his own flat in Monaco and you were kneeling on the counter, trying to find a suitable cup because all of his mugs were too big and bulky for tea. He held his hand to your back, worried you’d tip backwards, which you didn’t, but you were happy he was there to help you off the counter and greet you with a kiss. 

“I’ll invest in new cups,” he said. He never did.

He didn’t like the silence that lingered between you now, probably the first time it ever bothered him, so he cleared his throat, “I like your new place.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

He glanced around at the decor and spoke up again, “So you’ve been well?”

“You don’t need to pretend to care about how I've been.”

“I do care.”

The slow yet icy stare you gave him as you peered over your shoulder had Charles wondering if showing up here was a good idea. Instead of opening his mouth again, Charles looked at the decorations littered on the floor. 

He was drawn towards the open box of ornaments that was placed on the couch. He noticed the tree in the corner, but all you had put up so far was a string of lights. Curious, he looked closer into the box and smiled to himself when he saw a vintage Formula 1 Ferrari, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He also spotted a racing helmet, but couldn’t recognize the driver it belonged to.

It wouldn’t have shocked him if the rest of this box was F1 inspired Christmas ornaments. Either ones you had purchased yourself or ones that were given to you as gifts. 

Charles was always amazed at your knowledge of Formula 1. With your father being a retired driver himself, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you swept him under the rug during a trivia night. He admired your passion for the sport and maybe that’s why when he met you in the Ferrari garage, he wasn’t as quick to judge you like he was to everyone else who had purchased VIP passes for the weekend. 

You were there for the sport, for the racing, you didn’t care who was driving the car, it wasn’t like you had favorite drivers.

You were raised to appreciate the history of the sport, the roots, the beginnings. Because of that, you were drawn to the older teams, the classics. Williams, McLaren and against your fathers wishes, Ferrari. So of course you wanted to experience the Ferrari hospitality during a race weekend at least once. To see the cars up close, to be in the garage, to see the race from an entirely new perspective.

It was Australia, the third race of the 2023 season. It was a race that Charles tried hard to forget due to his DNF at the first turn, but there were highlights he cherished before the incident. 

He remembered standing in the garage before the first practice session and turning his head to flash a smile towards the VIP members standing at the back. He paid no attention to any of them in particular, but you stood out. The way you were so focused on the screen, taking in the Tech Talk segment that was playing on F1TV. You hadn’t even noticed Charles looking.

He saw you again the second day, closer to the front of the group before the start of FP3. You were wearing a white set, arms crossed over your chest with the headphones resting around your neck. You weren’t watching anything this time, instead you were in the middle of a conversation with a few of the mechanics. 

At first, Charles thought they were flirting with you. But when you pointed at the rear wing, lines drawn across your forehead and eyebrows pinched together in studious fashion, Charles got the hint that this wasn’t just a casual conversation. 

And then you held out your hand to introduce yourself, your once serious expression turning soft. You smiled at the mechanics as you shook both of their hands, seeming truly grateful to have met them. 

Naturally, Charles was curious as to what sort of conversation just took place. He waited a few minutes before asking Mark, the one of two mechanics who seemed to be doing most of the talking. 

“What was that about?” Charles asked.

Mark looked over his shoulder at you, but you were too engrossed in the screen again to notice the few sets on you.

“You don’t know who she is?” Mark asked. 

“Should I?” Charles glanced your way. This time, you caught it. 

You were also the first to look away.

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” Mark chuckled, probably in disbelief himself over who he just met. “She’s also got her masters in engineering. You know what she pointed out- the activation time for DRS is delayed compared to everyone else on the grid. I don’t know how she noticed it, but we’ll take a look at the data and if she’s onto something we’ll fix it before qualifying.”

Damon Hill’s daughter. The 1996 world champion. He had made a name for himself, known for being one of Schumacher's rivals during his prime. Charles knew he had kids, but didn’t know who they were. 

He wanted to introduce himself, but he waited till after qualifying. 

Was he a little taken aback when you seemed to be paying more attention to Carlos’ side of the garage at the end of the day? Maybe, but you had been watching him all weekend so far so he didn’t like the sudden change. 

His P7 starting position was nothing to be overly proud of, but the congratulations was the first thing out of your mouth when he approached you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more pride now than five minutes ago. He glanced at the car and then back at you, at the VIP lanyard resting over your chest, at your eyes that momentarily had him forgetting why he walked over to you in the first place. 

You held your hand in the same polite manner you had with the mechanics and you introduced yourself as Charles shook it slowly. 

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You cocked your head slightly, “Is that a line?”

A blush crept up to his cheeks when he realised how flirtatious he sounded without trying to, “No- I mean,” he licked his lips. “I guess it could be but I wasn’t trying for that.”

“I only just graduated,” you answered his question, which wasn’t really a question. “Figured I’d watch a few races, check out a few teams before I decide if I want to dip my toe in the motorsports field.”

“Driver?” He asked, eyebrows raised even though Mark had told him what you studied. But you laughed and Charles was glad he brought up the idea of you getting behind the wheel. He could get used to your laugh. 

“Engineer,” you corrected. “To be honest, I think IndyCar might be more my thing. Plus I know Arrow McLaren is looking to expand, hire a few more performance engineers. Mind if I use you as a reference? I saw those mechanics working on your DRS set up, don’t let them take the credit for catching the activation error.”

It was his turn to laugh. He liked your humour, something else he could get used to.

“Mark mentioned you pointed it out,” Charles nodded, unable to keep from smiling. He liked the way you spoke. Not only did he find your accent endearing, but he liked how sure you were of yourself. You knew your talents, you knew what you were capable of. He admired it. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” you said, taking it upon yourself to end the conversation. You adjusted the purse over your shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “It was nice meeting you, Charles.”

And then you walked off, happily letting someone else from the team accompany you, probably an engineer. Probably someone who could match your expertise in a conversation.

Charles didn’t know when he’d see you again, but he took it upon himself to make sure it was sooner than later.

Following Australia, the drivers had a bit of a break. Almost an entire month.

It was only a few days into the break when he asked his manager to get Damon Hill’s contact information. 

Confused was an understatement when your dad called you and said ‘Tell me why I just got an unsolicited text from Charles Leclerc asking if he could have your phone number’. 

By the end of the week, Charles had flown you from Paris, where you resided at the time, to Nice. He was there at the airport to pick you up and drive you to Monaco. 

You spent that entirety of the break together. 

Charles was smitten. As were you. 

But you were cautious. 

You knew first hand that racing was at the top of his priority list. You weren’t about to get your hopes up and think that these few weeks meant anything. He just had time on his hands and you showed interest. 

However, it was hard not to fall for Charles. He treated you well when you were together. He was easy to talk to. He made you feel safe, admired, wanted. He asked all the questions he could think of to get to know you. He made you breakfast in the morning, or at least he tried to. The mornings when you woke up to the smell of burnt eggs were just as entertaining. Plus you figured you could get used to the way he wrapped his arm around your waist as you took over. The kisses he peppered on your shoulder that tempted you towards pulling him back to the bedroom.

By the time the season picked up again for round 4 in Baku, you were so used to being around him that you had to tell yourself not to be hurt that he didn't suggest you go with him.

You and Charles did a lot of things during those few weeks, but never once did you label what you were. That conversation never came up. Neither did the exclusivity talk.

He still called. He texted you daily. He treated you like you were special, but racing came before a relationship. Even your dad reminded you of that. He told you not to dwell on it, that Charles would come to his senses when he felt secure with the team, with the season. He didn’t need the support of a girlfriend, he needed the support of his team.

And then Charles informed you he was flying you out to Miami. He wanted you to watch the race again. He wanted you there. 

You didn’t accompany him to the track, but he greeted you with wide arms and the brightest grin when you showed up at the Ferrari garage. His hand stayed on your lower back for a bit as he showed you around, giving you a proper tour but when you came across Mark it was almost as if Charles passed you off. 

He said ‘Here, chat with Mark for a bit, I’m sure you’ve got some opinions about the car’ and then he walked away.

You tried not to think too much about it, maybe he had obligations, media, signings, something. He wouldn’t fly you out to Miami and abandon you the first chance he got. He was a driver, he had priorities. You weren’t one of them, not yet.

It was a difficult situation to be in. When Charles gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. But when he was gone, he was gone. Distant, on his phone, sometimes he quite literally disappeared like at the end of the day on Saturday and you were left in the Ferrari garage wondering where the hell he got off to. 

But then he knocked on your hotel room door at a little after 10 and who were you to turn him away? 

Charles pulled you towards the bed, dragging you with him as he laid on the mattress. He asked about your day between the kisses he left down your neck. You answered as best as you could, but when his hands found the button of your trousers, it became a little more difficult to collect your thoughts. 

When he gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. 

You had forgotten all about his disappearances earlier. They didn’t matter, he was here now. His lips trailing every inch of your skin as your back curved off the bed. You tried to remind him that he had a race tomorrow, that you both could just go to sleep if he wanted but Charles only smirked and raised his face back to yours.

He hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with a ghost of a kiss, “Ma chérie, I’m not going to sleep until I hear you scream my name.”

He kissed the corner of your lips and then trailed down towards your ear, adding a quiet, “At least twice,” to the end of the original statement. 

And Charles was true to his word. He had you seeing stars with just his tongue alone in a matter of minutes. 

Charles worshipped you, he took care of you. In a short period of time, he came to know your body and how to get the reactions he desired. He loved seeing you come undone, loving being the one to bring you to the edge and watch you spill over. 

Maybe it was a pride he was chasing, but you wouldn’t think of that possibility until it was too late.

When he climbed under the covers next to you at the end of the night, you could still make out the shape of his body, his gentle features, even in the dark. Your hand found his chest, sliding upwards until it wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him.

He traced his fingers over your cheek, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as he whispered, “Comment ai-je eu cette chance?” How did I get so lucky? 

That did it for you.

You weren’t just smitten anymore. You were in love. 

Another impromptu break after Miami meant you had a few more weeks with Charles before he had to give his attention back to racing. You didn’t spend it all in Monaco this time. After about a week, Charles suggested the two of you go back to your home. Back to Paris.

Paris with him was heavenly. 

The rest of the world didn’t matter when it was just the two of you together. Your days were spent taking in the city, your evenings were spent in a variety of restaurants, lounges, anywhere he could spoil you, it seemed. 

It was nearing your last few days before he had to leave when he suggested you take a midnight stroll. The weather was perfect, the streets wouldn’t be too busy. You had no reason to say no. 

And there was something about walking the streets of Paris with Charles at night, holding his hand while he spun you under his arm beneath the glow of a street lamp. The Eiffel Tower was sparkling in the distance. Charles’ eyes lit up brighter than it. 

There was something about him. About this moment. About the last few months. All of it led up to standing here with him now.

And you knew better, but that didn’t stop you.

“I love you.”

And just like that, you faded into madness. Slowly, silently, but it was inevitable. 

Charles didn’t say anything. His lips parted like he wanted to, like he thought about it, only to ultimately lick his lips and inhale a sharp breath. 

By saying I love you, you plunged a knife into your own chest, opening yourself up to vulnerability, but his silence only twisted it in deeper. 

You backed up, hand dropping from his. Was that his doing or yours? He whispered your name, but only out of pity. He didn’t love you. He didn’t love you. 

Suddenly Paris didn’t seem so heavenly.

Charles left that night. Maybe he thought you were asleep, but you heard the door swing on its hinges. You heard the wheels of his suitcase being dragged out into the hallway. You turned over in bed, despite knowing you’d find his side empty, but you didn’t think it would turn cold so fast. 

A few days later, Charles was spotted walking into the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, but he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, the stunning Alexandra Saint Mleux. Even her name was beautiful.

You had heard whispers that Charles and her had a history, but you didn’t think anything of it. Why would you worry yourself with speculation when he was putting you on a pedestal when you were together? 

He had a way of making you feel wanted, but you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

Did she know you two were together? That he was with you in Paris? Was he seeing both of you or did he run back to her the second you told him something he wasn’t ready to hear?

You tried to move on, really. There was no relationship for you to cling to, Charles never said you were exclusive. He just knew the right words to say to make you feel like you were. 

You flew to Indianapolis for the Indy500. A rash decision, but the further away from Monaco the better. Your connections at Arrow McLaren gave you the chance to get a closer look at the inner workings of the team, had you momentarily forgetting about Charles. You wanted to be an engineer, not the girlfriend of a driver. You told yourself to get it together.

But then you returned home and seeing the slippers you had bought for Charles had you wondering why you couldn’t be both. You would have been both if he just said something, if he just told you he loved you. 

You should have distanced yourself from Formula 1, at least for a little while. You should have turned down the invitation from a partnering brand of Ferrari, enticing you to come to Spain for the race. You should have flown back to the states, reconnect with Arrow McLaren.

Instead you found yourself in Barcelona. The entire time you were there you knew it was a mistake and if you couldn’t figure that out on your own, seeing Alexandra chat with some Ferrari team members below while you sat up above in the hospitality was a painful reminder. 

Part of you considered talking to her. You wanted to know if she was in the same boat you were- and if she was clueless, maybe give her a heads up that Charles was going to say sweet nothings to her at night only to leave her in the dark. 

But Alexandra wasn’t the one you needed to talk to.

Between practice and qualifying on Saturday, you made your way to the paddock knowing that’s where Charles would be. You walked past Alexandra chatting to someone a few motorhomes down, so you felt better knowing she wasn’t currently with him.

Luck would have it, you ran into Mark outside of Ferrari. He invited you in of course, always happy to chat about the sport with someone who appreciated it on the same level and you assured him you would, you just had to talk to Charles first.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, not even sure what you were going to say. You were hurt, you were saddened, you were angry but you hadn't had time to think about what you would say to him when you were finally face to face again.

The door swung open and there he was. Shocked to see you, first of all, but not upset. You stood in the hallway and watched as Charles took a breath of relief, a sliver of a smile creeping up on his lips as he held the door open for you to walk in.

Your heart jolted at the idea that maybe, he still wanted you. The look he gave you was almost enough for you to forget he hadn’t said a word to you since you told him you loved him. 

Almost. 

You stepped in and leaned against the door after it shut, keeping a safe distance as he stood back against the massage table. 

Your lips parted, but before you could get a word out, his phone started to ring. You both glanced at the contact, at who was trying to get a hold of him.

Alexandra.

You swallowed, waiting until he let it go to voicemail before your timid voice filled the room. “You love her?”

Maybe Charles didn’t know how to love anyone. You’d believe it, with the way he tensed the second the word passed through your lips. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either.

“I can’t commit, Y/N.” He tried to say, like that made up for everything. Like that’s the answer you were looking for. 

“No, you can, Charles, but not to me.” You stated, keeping your voice calm. You weren’t one to yell. Causing a scene wasn’t your thing. You were always so soft spoken. Soft spoken, but straight to the facts. “Were you seeing both of us at the same time?”

“She knows, if that's what you're wondering." Charles quickly slid that piece of information in there. “She found out- about us. Threatened to leave me if-”

“If you didn’t choose?” You raised your eyebrows. Once again, his silence spoke volume. “So did you make up your mind before or after Paris?”

Charles averted his gaze for a second, “I realised in Paris I couldn’t love you the way you loved me.”

“You probably realised that a lot earlier,” you pointed out.

Charles must have known you adored him. There was no way he didn’t see the way you looked at him, the way you worshipped him. He knew and still strung you along, making you think he could love you back if you were just patient.

“You didn’t need to lead me on as long as you did, Charles.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

I didn’t want to lose you, he says. Bringing light to the fact that he had you. You were his, in a sense. Despite never saying the words out loud. 

But he was never yours.

“So I was there, for what?” You asked. “As a backup? In case things with Alexandra didn’t work out?”

Charles was intimated by how calm you were. He would have preferred if you yelled at him, if you fought with him. It would make it easier on both ends to put whatever this relationship was to rest. Instead, you were serene. You came here to talk, to get answers, you didn’t come here to form a divide. 

Because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to let go. How could you let go when you hadn’t spoken? He hadn’t given you closure, he didn’t say I don’t love you he just…didn’t say anything. 

You weren’t going to beg for him to come back, but in the far corners of your mind you were hoping that your appearance here would make him question his decision. You were banking on the idea that when he saw you, he’d remember what he saw in the first place when you met in Australia. 

If he changed his mind right now, you’d put all of this behind you. You’d stay at his side, you’d be there for him, you’d be his for real this time.

If he, once again, said nothing, you’d go. You’d go and you’d stay gone.

“I loved you,” you whispered. The past tense striking Charles more than he thought it would, but he didn’t show it. Loved. You loved him, and you still could. 

Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Almost two and the only thing that lingered between you was silence. Heavy, loud, painful silence. 

You grabbed the handle of the door and decided enough time had gone on. You deserved better than this, than a man who couldn’t make a decision, than someone who played with your feelings because they couldn’t figure out their own. 

The second you pulled the door back, your name fell from Charles’ lips. You were one step into the hall, halfway to gone, and he stopped you. 

All he had to do was say don’t go. All he had to do was tell you he wanted you. 

With your back still to the Ferrari driver, you waited for those next words but they never came. You knew they wouldn’t. 

That was the last time you spoke to Charles. You knew how to stay true to your word too. 

So why was he suddenly here, six months later, sitting on your couch and looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something first when you made it clear a long time ago if you were gone, you were gone.

Charles only took a sip of his tea before putting it on the coffee table. He then moved the box of Christmas ornaments, not liking the divide it put between you as if he wasn't the one to create the wedge in the first place. 

You were stupid, to speak first, but you were tired of the silence. He came here for a reason and if he wasn’t going to tell you why in the next two minutes, you were going to send him back out into the snow.

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked, not that you were interested in knowing if he was happy or thriving in his relationship. You were, however, impressed to see that he could in fact commit, but you were right about that. He just didn’t want to commit to you. 

“Do you care?” He asked in return. 

You shook your head slightly, “I do not.”

Charles smiled at your honesty. Your gentle tone didn’t match the brutal truth.

“So let’s not talk about her,” Charles said and you nodded in agreement. He shifted in his spot, glancing at the decorations, the tea, really anything but you. 

And you weren’t about to wait again, not if this was going to lead to the one thing your silence always led to. 

You sucked in a breath, “Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He nodded, knowing that this was all on him. He was lucky enough to even be allowed into your home, and he knew you were slowly regretting that decision the longer he just didn’t get to the point. 

Charles lifted his head, eyes finally meeting yours. He even flinched, like he was trying to reach for your hand only to decide against it at the last second, relying on just his words for a change.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Part 2 - now that we don’t talk

[jacqueline-01]

[He’s obsessed]

A.H x Y/N

To be loved is to be truly seen and heard.

Aaron made sure of that through his quiet, thoughtful actions. From offering you an extra blanket on the plane ride back home to listening intently as you and Morgan bickered like siblings, he was always present. Though he rarely showed it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by your quick-witted comebacks to Morgan’s every remark. In his mind, you were one of the few who could stand up to his inner prosecutor, navigating his sharp, sometimes unyielding personality with ease.

Every time you caught his eye, there was a quiet connection, an unspoken understanding. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that he was paying attention. You could feel his gaze on you during cases, the way his subtle smile would appear when you offered your perspective, no matter how small. It wasn’t loud or brash, but it was there — a constant, steady presence that comforted you.

You, too, found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the way he led the team with calm authority, or how he could read people in a single glance. It was his silence, the way he carried a quiet strength, the way he never asked for anything in return. He made you feel seen, truly seen, in a world where most people overlooked the small, tender moments that meant everything.

There were moments you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and in those moments, your heart would race. He was a man of few words, but those fleeting moments of eye contact spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say “I love you” because you already knew. You could feel it in the way he would adjust the collar of your jacket on a chilly morning, or the small, comforting touches during stressful moments.

As the weeks passed, the air between you shifted. It was subtle, unspoken — but it was there. The way his hand lingered just a little too long when passing you a file, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way his voice softened whenever he addressed you. The tension was building, and you could feel it in your bones. But neither of you dared to break the silence.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both found yourselves at the same bar, unwinding with a drink. The dim lighting, the hum of quiet conversation around you, and the warmth of the moment made everything feel just a little more intimate.

The evening was quiet, the weight of the day’s case still lingering between you. You sat at the bar, nursing your drink, the low hum of conversation in the background. Aaron had been silent the entire ride over, his usual stoic presence beside you in the car, but tonight, something felt different. There was a palpable tension in the air, something unspoken that both of you had avoided addressing.

You took a sip from your glass, trying to push away the heaviness in your chest, but the silence was too much. You wanted to know if he felt it too — the way his presence made everything seem a little brighter, the way your heart beat a little faster when his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

Finally, you spoke, your voice softer than you intended. “Do you ever wonder… if we’re all just pretending? Pretending that this,” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t something more than just… whatever this is?”

Aaron’s eyes flickered to you for a brief moment, his brow furrowing slightly, as if unsure whether you were talking about the case or something more personal. He studied you for a long second, the same way he did when he was trying to read someone. But this time, it was different. He wasn’t trying to figure out the suspect — he was trying to figure you out.

“You’re not talking about the case, are you?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You shook your head. “No. I mean… I guess I am. But not really.” You set your drink down, eyes fixed on the bar in front of you, afraid to meet his gaze. “I don’t know, Hotch. It’s like… I’ve always been aware of the way things are, but lately, everything just feels… louder.”

Aaron let out a breath, setting his drink down too, his gaze steady but intense. “Louder how?” His voice had a quiet curiosity to it, the kind that only surfaced when he was genuinely interested in someone’s perspective.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I guess it’s just… when we’re together, when we’re talking, it’s like I’m hearing everything, but also nothing. It’s confusing, you know?” You glanced at him then, your eyes meeting his for the first time all night. “I’ve been wondering if maybe… I’m just hearing what I want to hear.”

Aaron didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. “And what do you want to hear?” he asked, the question loaded with an intensity that you could feel in your chest.

Your heart beat a little faster. “I want to hear you say that you feel it too,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “That all this silence, all these moments… they mean something.”

There was a long pause. The air between you was thick with the weight of your confession, but Aaron didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat into his usual quiet self, the one that hid his emotions behind a mask. Instead, he leaned closer, just enough for you to feel the heat of his presence.

“I’ve felt it,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “More than I’ve let myself admit.” He reached across the bar, his hand brushing against yours in a gesture so small, but it felt like a promise. “I’ve been waiting for you to see it too.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. He had felt it. For how long? How long had he been waiting for you to say something? The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over everything you’d been holding back.

Before you could respond, Aaron spoke again, his voice now steadier, more certain. “I’ve been silent because I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is. But if I’m being honest with myself…” He paused, the words hanging between you. “I think we’ve both been pretending that this silence doesn’t mean something. Pretending that we don’t both want more.”

Your heart raced as you processed what he was saying. The silence that had hung between you for so long wasn’t just the absence of words — it was filled with everything that you both couldn’t say.

And then, as if all at once, the distance between you closed. Aaron’s hand found yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away. No more pretending. No more silence. Only the quiet understanding that, in that moment, everything had finally clicked into place.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of everything you had both been too afraid to say. And as the kiss deepened, you realized that sometimes, it wasn’t the loud declarations of love that mattered. Sometimes, it was the quiet moments in between that spoke the loudest.

[tigermark]

style ˖ ࣪⭑

pairing : mark x fem!reader

genre : fluff

synopsis : dating mark always feels like a dream come true... (based on style by taylor swift)

tw : established relationship

a/n : okay yeah whatever i dont even want mark that bad lol im not obsessed with him ahah

you waited anxiously for mark on a park bench, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. he definitely said he'd meet you here at 7 o'clock sharp so what's taking him so long? besides, it was starting to get cold out...

you hadn't been dating for very long, but there was no way he already stood you up, right?

suddenly you hear the sound of someone running, making you immediately snap out of your anxious daydream. but to your relief, it was mark.

he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand, making you smile when you saw the flowers wrapped in the paper. he went to the local flower shop before the park, he really is romantic.

once he finally reached you he handed you the flowers, his hands immediately falling to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. you admired the flowers, seeing some of the ones you'd tell him were your favorite. "do you... do you like them?" he asked between pants. you giggled at his words and nodded, watching as he fully stood up and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, revealing his outfit of a white t-shirt and some jeans. even if the outfit was simple, he still looked handsome as ever. he placed the jacket down on the bench before sitting next to you and sighing.

"i left a little late and i thought i'd be able to make it on time but i guess i was wrong... sorry about that," he apologized, eyes fixed on your face illuminated by the street light. you looked at him to meet his gaze, placing the flowers on your lap.

"you have no idea how much this means to me mark... you're so sweet," you said before engulfing him in a hug. a small grunt escaped his lips before he quickly squeezed your body in his arms. "you're such a boyfriend."

he watched you closely as you pulled away from the hug, his hands staying on your shoulders. "i really try to be," he says while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "now, wanna go on a walk?"

you smiled at his words, "of course i do." he stood up and offered his hand to you after you stood up as well. you intertwined your hands with him, the warmth radiating off of him giving you goosebumps.

you watched as he picked up his jacket from the bench, remembering how cold you were. "i'm a little cold... is it okay if i borrow your jacket?" he immediately nodded, opening it up so you could slide your arms through the holes.

once he had successfully help you put the jacket on he smiled, "look at you, so cute in my jacket." he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it, starting to walk the path infront of you.

you walked around the park and talked about whatever seemed interesting to you two in the moment, laughing your butts off about what seemed like the silliest things ever. mark suddenly looked at you in a moment of silence, seemingly admiring your beauty.

"those flowers really suit you, hm?" he said with a soft voice. "i think you're prettier than them though."

there was a comforting silence between you two as you stopped in the middle of the path, just staring at each other lovingly. you'd never been so grateful for the park to be empty before.

"can i kiss you?" mark asked, his question coming out quickly like it was one word he smashed together. the idea of a first kiss between you two was bound to come up, but you never expected it to happen like this. without even responding you stood on the tips of your toes to grab the back of mark's neck, pulling it down so you could kiss him.

the kiss didn't last very long but it truly felt unreal. your heart never stopped beating throughout it, and your hand that was still holding the flowers he'd given you was shaking so muxh to the point that the flowers were shaking too.

"calm down baby, no need to be so nervous," he said with a calming voice when he saw your trembling hands. he lifted his hand to your shoulder and smoothed over your skin comfortingly."i really thought you couldn't get any more perfect but it turns out your lips are soft too."

you let out a giggle at his words, reaching for his hand again. "i'm perfect? you went running in the cold to get me my favorite flowers mark."

he smiled at your words, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips. "i guess we both scored the best kind of love for us, right?"

[cupidbedsy]

𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 | 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♔

➪ summary: after the first incident of her getting sick, her brothers are on high alert for when the time comes again. but what happens when they're all away and she gets sick when she's alone? | based on taylor swift's 'safe and sound'

➪ warnings: reader is sick, throwing up, blood, hospitals, swearing

➪ word count: 3.0k

➪ file type: song based fic

➪ sunny's notes: i have mixed feelings about this fic because... well if you know what happened with this you know what happened. i am extremely proud of it though especially because i wrote it in one night and the person who this is based off of absolutely loved it when i posted it the first time as well

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

hughes brothers masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

'I remember tears streaming down your face When I said I'll never let you go When all those shadows almost killed your light I remember you said don't leave me here along But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight'

She was five when she got severely sick the first time and she was terrified. She woke up feeling warm and cold at the same time, her throat was scratchy and dry, and her eyes were watery but she didn’t know if it was because she was scared or if it was just a reaction, and her energy was slim to nonexistent which was scared Ellen and Jim.

By now, their sons would’ve scooped the youngest child out of her bedroom and made their way downstairs to watch something on TV or just play with her. Yet, it was dead silent in the house. Ellen got up from the bed and peeked into each of her son’s rooms and was relieved to find that they were asleep still. 

She hoped the same for her daughter but when she walked into the room and saw her five-year-old in tears sitting on her bed, she rushed over.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mommy!” She let out a loud cry alarming Jim and he came rushing in as well, not noticing the eldest Hughes child in tow. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here, your brothers are still sleeping, let’s not wake them up. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good.” She sniffled and quieted her voice.

Ellen picked her up and placed her daughter on her lap as she sat down, “Jim go get the-” 

Before she even finished, y/n leaned over and threw up, trying not to get it on Ellen, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, hon. Jim, go get the thermometer.”

Jim quickly walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom but got stopped as he ran into his son, “Quinn! Morning.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Your sister’s sick, it’s probably nothing.”

Quinn’s face went pale, “Is she okay? Does she have a fever? Is she throwing up?”

“Quinn! Calm down. I promise you, it’s probably just a little cold. You can go see her if you want, Mom is in there with her.”

Quinn walked into the room to see Ellen hugging y/n. He took one step and Ellen turned to him, “Hi, Quinn.”

“How is she?”

“It’s most likely just a cold. Y/n/n, look who’s here.” She directed her head to her son and pointed to him, “Quinny!”

She reached her arms out for him and Quinn gladly took her, placing her on his hip, “Hi baby bear.”

“I no feel good, Quinny.” Quinn nodded his head, “I know but we’re gonna make you feel better, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Jim walked back into the room, placing the thermometer under the girl’s tongue. Seconds later it beeped and Jim took it out of her mount, “40.6/104”

The parents sigh and start to walk out, “Quinn if you don’t mind can you get her ready quickly, we’re gonna need to go to the hospital.”

Quinn nodded his head and he walked over to his sister’s closet, “Whatcha wanna wear, sweetheart?” Y/n lazily pointed to her brown bear sweatshirt and snuggled her head back into her brother’s chest. Quinn got her ready and sat her on her bed so he could put her shoes on. 

“Quinny?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you going to leave me?”

“Of course, not y/n/n. I’m never going to let you go.”

Jack and Luke had both heard the rustling from outside their rooms and they both stepped out into the hallway, “What’s going on?”

Jack shrugged, “No clue, bro. I’m so tired.” The boy saw his sister’s door open and walked in there.

By now, Quinn was sitting on her bed and y/n was lying in his arms, “What’s going on?”

“She’s sick.” Jack and Luke immediately wake up at the news and rush over, spitting out questions left and right.

“She’s got a fever but that’s all I know right now. Mom and Dad are taking her to the hospital.”

“The hospital?!”

“I wanna go.” Luke protests just as their parents walk back into the room, fully dressed, “Oh, good morning you two.”

“Can we go with?”

“Guys, the three of you can’t come with.”

“Please, mommy.” Y/n’s little voice spoke up from her brother’s lap.

Ellen sighed, “Fine. But if you guys aren’t out there in five minutes, dressed, then we’re leaving without you.”

Ellen reached over and grabbed her daughter, the three of them heading out to the car to wait for their sons.

『••✎••』

In the hospital, Jim and Ellen were the only ones allowed to go back with her at least for now, and y/n let her voice be heard. She cried and cried until they relented and let one of them go back with the two. She reached for Quinn immediately and he nodded his head and followed behind his mom and sister, Jim staying with the other two. 

When they got home, the boys sat at the kitchen table as Jim tried to give y/n her medicine, “I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t want to, honey, but you have to. Don’t you want to feel better?”

“Jacky.”

Jack’s head popped up from where he sat and looked at her, “Yeah?”

Y/n pointed to her medicine and then to Jack and glared, “You want Jack to give you your medicine?”

She nodded with purpose and Jim happily gave the medicine to his middle son, “All yours, Jack.”

Jack didn’t complain, it meant that she trusted him and he loved that feeling. Jack poured the liquid into the small cup to the correct fill line and put it near his sister’s mouth. She took it without a hassle and from the corner of his eyes he could see his father throw his hands up in defeat causing everyone to chuckle.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

'Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound'

Later that night, y/n lay in bed by herself, looking at the wall. Her stomach hurt and she let out a barely audible whine. Luke, who happened to be walking by, heard it and peeked his head into the room, “You doing okay, baby bear?”

“No.”

Luke walked fully into the room and sat on his little sister’s bed, “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach. Will you stay with me?”

“Of course, I will.” Luke laid down next to her and she curled into him, “Thank you.”

Luke looked confused, “For what?”

“For making me feel safe. All three of you.”

Luke awed internally, trying not to let tears fall down his face, “No need to thank me for that.”

Five minutes passed and Jack and Quinn got down waiting for their brother, getting up to see where he was. When they saw him lying in y/n’s bed, they made their way over to them, “You guys okay?”

There was no answer as both of them had fallen asleep. Quinn told Jack to stay there as he walked out to grab some pillows and blankets and brought them back to him. The two made their makeshift beds on the ground and fell asleep not long after.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

‘Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound’

Ever since then, it was common that y/n had to go to the hospital. As the boys got older, they got more worried. They were busier, Quinn went to college and eventually, he and Jack made the NHL. Luke went off to college and this year he started his official rookie season with the Devils. 

However, it wasn’t as often that it happened when they were away, and if it did it wasn’t as bad as having to go to the hospital, just more or less the doctor’s office. They weren’t as worried about her when this happened, getting texts from either there or their parents and calling them to make sure she was okay.

This time was different. Ellen and Jim had run out to grab a few things for dinner and they left y/n at home alone, because she was 16 and was capable of being by herself. Yet, in hindsight, they probably shouldn't have. 

They had been gone for twenty minutes already and she thought they wouldn’t be much longer and she could hold on. But she couldn’t. Every couple of minutes it felt like she had a coughing attack, but this last one, blood came up with it. 

Wasting no time she dialed the first person that came up on her contacts, Luke. 

“Lukey.”

“Hey, y/n/n! What’s up?”

She was glad they didn’t have a game today, otherwise she’d be totally screwed. 

“Lukey, I’m scared.”

“You’re scared? Why? What’s wrong?” Luke stood up from his bed and made his way out of his room and towards Jack’s. 

He didn’t knock on the door before entering which left Jack to somewhat argue with him about knocking before entering, not that he was doing anything, but manners, you know? 

“It’s so bad. Really bad.”

“Well, where’s mom and dad? How bad are we talking?” Jack’s interest peaked at the mention of his parents and scrambled to sit next to his younger brother on his bed, motioning for him to put it on speaker. Luke pressed the button and pulled his phone away from his ear, waiting for the girl to talk. 

“They went out to grab-” She took a pause before coughing some more. Jack and Luke looked at each other worriedly, “Y/n?”

“Oh god. There’s more.”

“More what?” Jack inquired, nervousness settling at the bottom of his stomach, “More blood.”

The three were silent, y/n trying not to freak out and Jack and Luke trying not to freak her out. It was quiet for a couple of minutes before the oldest of the three-spoke up, “When are Mom and Dad going to be home?”

As soon as she went to say her answer the front door clicked and y/n rushed downstairs, “Dad! Mom!”

She threw her phone on the counter and Luke turned the volume all the way up in an effort to hear the conversation, “What? What’s wrong?”

“I threw up some blood.” 

“Oh my. Get in the car, I’ll meet you two there.” Jim rushed y/n to the car and Ellen ran around the house gathering a few things in case they were there for a while. 

Jack and Luke were freaking out, “Dad, what’s going on? Mom? Y/n?” Ellen spied her daughter’s phone on the counter and looked at it curiously seeing her son’s contact name on it, “Luke?”

“Mom, what is happening?”

“We’re taking her to the hospital. How long ago did she call you?”

“I don’t know like five minutes ago maybe?” Luke’s voice broke as he explained to his mom, Jack placing a hand on his back. 

“I want you to call, Quinn-”

“No!” Y/n interrupted her mom as she got into the passenger seat, “What do you mean no?”

“He has a game, please.”

“Honey, I think you are more important to him than the game. Let Luke and Jack call him.” Ellen’s voice was stern as Jim pulled out of the driveway.

“If you’re gonna call him, let me talk to him.”

Ellen, and the boys, went to protest but y/n’s face showed desperation, “Fine. We’ll call you two back when we have answers.”

“Don’t bother. We’re already packing.” 

As Ellen and y/n were squabbling, Jack ushered his younger brother to his room and told him to go back and he left his phone in his room. Jack pulled his suitcase out of his closet and was halfway finished packing when they acknowledged the two again.

“There’s no need-”

“You’re not winning this y/n/n. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Jack hung up and finished packing, meeting Luke and in ten minutes, they were on their way to the airport. 

Meanwhile, y/n had dialed Quinn’s contact, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. It was an hour before the game was supposed to start and she had no idea if he would actually answer or not, but to her luck, he did.

“Quinn.”

“Hey, y/n/n. What's up? Need help with some homework?”

“I’m going to the hospital.”

Quinn dropped his stick as he stood in the locker room, some of his teammates glancing at him worriedly, “What is it?”

“Same old, same old, but this-” Her sentence was interrupted by another coughing attack and Quinn could hear their mother telling her to take it easy in the background. 

“What do you mean it’s worse?” Quinn didn’t need her to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant.

Elias was standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder to ground him in case anything got out of hand, “I coughed up some blood.”

“You what?!” Quinn’s voice echoed through the clubhouse, “Quinn what’s wrong?”

The boy shushed his teammates, “Quinn, I’m probably fine-”

“If you’re coughing up blood you are not fine. Do Mom and Dad know? Do Jack and Luke?”

“Yes, Mom and Dad know, you idiot. Who do you think is taking me to the hospital? And yes the other two know, I already called them. I didn’t want to call you because you have a game.”

“I couldn’t care less about the game when my little sister calls and tells me she’s on the way to the hospital. Let me talk to coach, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Quinn, no-”

“Nope, la la la la. Blah blah blah. I’m coming. Give the phone to mom.”

“But-”

“No.”

Y/n reluctantly handed the phone to her mom but as she extended her hand, her arm dropped and the phone clattered to the ground. The only thing Quinn could hear was the faint yelling of his sister’s name from his mom. 

『••✎••』

Y/n was lying in the hospital bed when Jack and Luke watched the only show that was on this late at night, Family Feud. She was trying to answer but every time she went to speak she’d start coughing. The two ran in just as y/n’s previous coughing attack had subsided and she was now glaring at the TV because someone said a stupid answer.

“I said sex first, asshole. But no one wanted to listen to me.” 

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Jacky! Lu!” Y/n had a dopey smile on her face as she saw her brothers. They couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or if she was just being herself.

“Hey, baby bear. How you feeling?”

“Mom, can I swear?”

Jack laughed, “Aren’t you the one who just called someone an asshole?”

“Mom! Jack’s being mean.”

“Jack, stop torturing your sister and yes, y/n, you can swear.”

“I feel like shit.” Luke nodded, the only one who seemed to have sympathy for the girl right now, “What did the doctor say?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”

Ellen and Jim explained how it wasn’t a big thing and that she should be able to go home in a couple of hours or so. The two stayed with her until she was discharged and drove home with the three where Luke carried her upstairs to her room because she fell asleep on the way home. 

That’s where Quinn found them when he got there, Jack and Luke on either side of her in her bed as they watched the Game Show Network. One of the many stuffed animals that Quinn had gotten her wrapped in her arms against her chest. 

“Hey guys.”

“Quinn! You’re here.”

“Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t let those two take care of you.”

Jack and Luke feigned offense at the eldest child but Jack moved over so Quinn could sit where he previously was, knowing y/n always chose to be close to him when she was sick. 

“You doing okay?”

“Could be better, but I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m never letting you go, none of us are.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

It was something the three had already talked about, they had already talked to their coaches and were scratched from their next couple of games because their sister needed him. 

Y/n spent the rest of the night surrounded by her brothers feeling safe and sound.

⬂ 𝗛𝘂𝗴𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

@zebraszegras | @ru-kru | @alwaysclassyeagle | @flowergirl1134 | @puckslxt | @ivy-34 | @kei943

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[castiwls]

tolerate it - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'I wait by the door like I'm just a kid'

Requested; @simonsbluee

Notes;this is my all time fav cry song. i actually wrote an anakin version as well lmao I'll post that in a min :) requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

You stared blankly at the wall in front of you. “Sweetheart. Come on, talk to me.” Dean took a seat beside you, turning his body to face you. “This is the third time in two weeks.” You kept your gaze on the wall as you spoke. 

“It’s only a few days.” He placed his hand over yours, leaning in slightly. You quickly pulled your hand back, a sharp breath leaving your lips. “It’s always only a few days.” You hissed standing from the bed. “A few days then becomes a week because oh look Sam found another case.” You leaned back on the dresser, finally facing him.

“And I just get left behind, sitting here waiting on you both like some…some child!” Dean stared at you his face passive. “What do you expect me to do? Bring you with” His gaze hardened slightly as he spoke. “You don’t have any sort of training, i’d only be putting you and us in danger!” Dean stood coming to stand before you. 

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Keeping me trapped is your way of keeping me safe?” You shook your head. “Just go.” Dean reached out wrapping a hand around your wrist. “Don’t be like this.” He tilted his head, a small frown playing at his lips. “Like what”

“Difficult. Don’t be difficult” He snapped. You froze at his words, your blood running cold. Your head turned to face him, and a look of betrayal crossed your features for a moment before you calmed your expression. Difficult. He’d called you difficult all because you’d complained about being left. 

Most of the time you felt second best. Second best to all the creatures out there that he seemed so determined to kill. You knew it was a difficult job but you’d never expected it to come first.

You could count on one hand the number of times this month alone Dean had been home for more than one day consistently. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even been on a date with him. 

“Just go.” You pulled your hand from his grip, your voice thick as you pushed back tears. You quickly left the room taking a breath to compose yourself. “We need to talk about this.” Dean’s voice followed you down the hall. He let out a huff watching as you took a seat at the map table. You grabbed a book before opening it.

You’d done this a hundred times. Dean and you would fight, you’d complain about being stuck here and then he’d promise, ‘next time sweetheart’. And then he’d go off for days with little to no contact before he’d come back mostly beaten and bruised.

You could feel him watching you as you swallowed trying to hold back your tears. Did he truly think you were that helpless, that you would be that much of a risk to even take on a hunt.

Dean quietly moved behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. Your breath hitched slightly as you felt his breath hit your ear. “I’ll make it up to you, i promise.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

You felt his weight leave your shoulders as he straightened up. The sound of his footsteps echoed as he left the room.

A shaky breath left your lips as you felt your composure break. Pressing a hand to your mouth you placed the book down finally allowing the tears to follow.

After a moment you managed to calm yourself. You glanced back down the hallway, the bunker suddenly seeming larger now that you were alone.

“You always say that.” 

[wlwsoccerfics]

A Long Road ahead (Alessia RussoXWilliamsonReader)

Warnings: ACl injury, mental health struggles, complications during surgery

You are in the middle of recovering from ACL injury. The surgrey went smoothly which was why you thought the healing and getting back on the pitch would be as well. Turned out that wasn't the case. You got injured 4 months ago and the pain was still quite bad. You still worked your ass off to get back on your feet. Frustrated with how stiff your knee was still.

Currently you sat on the floor in the living room of the home you shared with your fiancee, tears running down your face, all you wanted was to pick up the book you dropped but you ended up falling on your bad knee. Your whole Body was shaking from the sobs escaping your lips. You were in pain and so frustrated with yourself and your body. The Cane you used to get around with lying on the floor next to you. You knew this was bad because your knee was already turning different shades of blue.

A few minutes later the front door opened and you could hear Alessia talking to some people. One of those people being your best friend Beth & the other one being your fiancee obviously. But they were followed by two other voices. Your Sisters & Lias voice. As soon as they heard your sobs they ran into the living room. "Babe!" Alessia said in Panic and kneeled down in front of you. "I tumbled and fell. All i wanted was to pick up my book!" You told her. Quickly wiping away your tears. "Little Williamson we need to get you to the hospital cause your knee doesn't look good at all!" Lia, your sister in law answered. "This sucks! I am never gonna be back on the pitch. My Football career is over!" You were close to having a panic attack so Leah sat down on the other side of you. Rubbing your back. "Hey y/n look at me! It will be okay! You are a tough Cookie and you can get through this! But you have to calm down!" Leah answered. "Match my breathing!" Alessia encoruaged you and grabbed your Hand. Placing it on her chest. Beth had an idea to calm you down. She put on your favorite Taylor Swift Song and somehow that worked so Alessia and Leah helped you up. Holding you steady and you made your way to Beths Car cause she was gonna be the one driving.

You ended up quietly crying for the entire car ride. Head on Alessias shoulder, while looking outside the window.

At the hospital everyone was in the waiting room. Everyone but Alessia who was with you almost the entire time and only left your side when you got an CT scan of your knee. She held your hand when the doctor told you that your ACL did tear again. & Your knee cap was fractured. Surgrey was needed and you would have to start your healing Journey from scratch. Which made you emotional and you just cried into Alessias arms.

When you fell asleep your fiancee went to your sister and friends to tell them what happened and that your surgrey was gonna be the next day. Everyone was shocked. "I can't believe it. That poor girl has been through so much! And things just keep adding up." Lia replied. Feeling bad for her sister in law. "We have to be there for her and Support her even more now! She needs us!" Beth stated. "It's like she can't catch a break, but she will get through it! She is a Williamson. And we always pull through." Leah said and it did sound like she not only wanted to try to comfort the others but also herself.

Everyone went home so you could rest. Discussing how to cheer you up after your surgery. While Alessia stayed with you. Holding your hand all night. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair. Your night was rough cause of the pain. Even with the pain meds. It was around 7am when you got prepared for surgery and they took you away from Alessia.

Right after that happened Alessia was waiting for Beth cause your best friend brought over some stuff for you and for Alessia so she could get changed into some fresh clothes after she took a shower in your room. The two waited together for any news on you. Leah, Lia & Viv were getting some things ready for you at home.

It took around 5 hours of surgery to fix both the fractured knee cap & ACL. There also were some complications. Which the doctor told your fiancee and best friend. "She lost alot of blood & slipped into shock but we managed to bring her back. She needs to stay for a few days. If the next two days go well she can go home." He explained. Both Beth and Alessia went pale when he explained to them what had happened.

You were slowly waking up from surgery around 40 minutes later, Alessia holding your hand while Beth & Leah were standing in a corner. "Lessi?" You mumbled out, trying to open your eyes. "Hey Baby. I am here! It's all going to be okay!" She told you. But you could see that she had been on the edge of breaking down."you look quite stressed. What's wrong?" You asked, fully opening your eyes now. They did start hurting a bit cause of the Lights but You shake it off. Alessia was biting down on her bottom lip not sure how to start so Leah stepped in. "You have to stay for a few days, there were some complications." Your sister answered. "You lost alot of blood and slipped away for a moment. They want to check on you for a bit to keep an eye on you, just making sure nothing happens and when things go well you can go home." Beth let you know. You took in the information, trying to make sense of this. The universe could be really unfair. The fact that not only would you have to start your ACL Recovery Journey from the beginning after falling on it, no of course they also had to be complications. "Oh." Was all you said after a while. Trying to smile through the emotional pain but ended up losing some tears over this. Which resulted in a group hug with your fiancee, your sister and your best friend. Of course they were very careful not to hurt you.

Thankfully the next few days went well and the doctor was quite positive about how things were going so you were allowed to go home. At Home you were greeted by a banner that said :'Welcome Home,y/n!' , your Friends also got you some new books, wrote some notes and let the Team write some that said a few Things to make you feel better when you felt down, such a sweet thing to do. the Road to Recovery would be long and hard but at least you knew you didn't have to go through it alone.