#I always have a need to shout that instead

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi!!!

May I request something a little angsty to sweet?? 😈

An X-men x teen!reader with that one trope where it’s like:

“You’re not my dad/mom!”

“I know that, do you?”

With characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Storm, Beast, Magneto, and gambit

X-Men x Teen!Reader

You tell them that they are not your dad/mom during an argument

In the heat of the argument, the words slip out—sharp, hurtful. Their faces fall, stunned and wounded, but there’s a quiet pain in your own heart too, because you know the truth. Later, in the stillness, you find yourself beside them, whispering apologies, and they hold you as if to say: family isn’t only blood, it’s chosen.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wade Wilson

Ooh, you little evil spawn... I love this prompt, and I hope I have reached your expectations <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan’s temper is legendary, but he’s always managed to keep it in check around you, knowing you need stability. However, the moment you shout “You’re not my dad!” during a heated argument, he feels a pang of anger and hurt. He’s spent years looking after you, guiding you in his gruff way, and in that second, it stings. Without missing a beat, he snaps back, “I know that, kid. Do you?”

- There’s a cold silence afterward, and Logan storms off, muttering under his breath. He knows he’s not technically your father, but you’re family to him. As he sits alone, drinking and stewing over the argument, he wonders if maybe he’s failed you somehow. He thinks back to the times he’d pulled you out of trouble or taught you some hard-won survival lessons, realizing just how deeply he cares.

- That night, the silence weighs heavy, and you feel a growing sense of regret. Logan has been the one constant in your life, a steady (if rough) presence who’s always had your back. You think about all the times he’s risked himself for you, the moments he’s tried to be there in his quiet, sometimes awkward way. It dawns on you that, without Logan, your life would be far lonelier—and that he truly has become a father figure.

- The next morning, Logan’s in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon, trying to act like everything’s normal. When you finally muster up the courage to apologize, he doesn’t make it easy. He just grunts, flipping the eggs with a rough edge to his voice, not looking up. But he listens. After you tell him how much he means to you, he lets out a long sigh, and with a gruff but softer voice, he tells you, “Kid, you drive me crazy, but you’re family. You know that?”

- Later, you notice Logan starts going a little easier on you, keeping the snark to a minimum and checking in a bit more often. The bond between you grows even stronger, and while he’ll never be openly affectionate, you sense the quiet pride he has in you. If anyone tries to mess with you, Logan’s first in line to make sure they regret it.

- From then on, whenever you call him “Logan” instead of “Dad,” he just smirks and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to say what you really feel. In his own way, he’s let you know that titles don’t matter—he’ll always be there, watching your back like only a true family member would.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy isn’t exactly the “strict parent” type, so when you start an argument with him, you’re used to his laid-back attitude. But this time, he gets serious, which shocks you enough to yell, “You’re not my dad!” Remy’s face goes still for a moment, then he raises an eyebrow with his usual calm demeanor, saying softly, “I know, cher. Do you?”

- Remy’s response hangs in the air, and he turns on his heel, leaving you to stew in the aftermath. You’re left alone, staring after him and feeling a pang of guilt. Remy has always treated you like family, his warmth and charm making you feel safe and wanted. You remember the countless times he’s been there for you, offering wisdom and laughter, even when you’ve messed up.

- That night, you can’t shake the look on his face—calm, yes, but with a hint of sadness. Remy’s always seemed so self-assured, but in that moment, it felt like he genuinely wondered if he’d overstepped. You begin to realize just how much he’s done to make you feel like you belong, without ever asking anything in return.

- The next day, you find Remy in the Danger Room, practicing. Nervously, you walk up to him and mumble an apology, explaining that you didn’t mean what you said. He turns to you, an understanding smile softening his gaze. “S’alright, kiddo. I know you got fire in you. Just remember—blood don’t make family.”

- After that, Remy’s even more of a constant presence, always ready to talk, laugh, or lend a hand. He starts making a point to remind you of your strengths, pushing you to see the best in yourself. Whenever he sees you slipping into self-doubt, he’ll casually throw in a story of one of his own mistakes, just to remind you that he’s been there too—and that he’ll always be there for you.

- Over time, you come to see Remy not just as a mentor, but as family, someone who chose to be in your life. He might not have the official title of “dad,” but there’s no question about the bond between you two. Remy’s heart is as big as his charm, and he’s shown you that family is something you build, piece by piece.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s patience seems endless, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, the words shock you as much as they shock him. He’s silent for a moment, then replies gently, “I know, but are you sure?” He’s hurt but gives you a sad, understanding look before stepping away, giving you space to cool off.

- Afterward, the guilt eats away at you. Kurt has been nothing but kind and supportive, teaching you about acceptance and resilience, even when things are tough. His faith and positivity have been a guiding light in your life, and the thought of hurting him like this twists at your heart.

- You remember moments when he went out of his way to include you, especially when you felt like an outsider among mutants. Kurt has always been there, understanding what it’s like to be different and offering comfort when you needed it most. It hits you that, despite not being your biological father, he’s filled that role with all the love and patience he has.

- The next day, you find Kurt alone in the library, reading. You approach him, nervous but sincere, and apologize for what you said. He listens quietly, and when you’re done, he gives you a warm smile, saying, “It’s alright, mein freund. I will always be here, no matter what.” His forgiveness is immediate, his kindness knowing no limits.

- After that, Kurt becomes even more of a confidant, someone you know you can turn to for wisdom and understanding. He makes a point of reminding you that love is a choice, and he’s chosen you as family. Whenever you’re down, he’ll tell you stories of his own struggles, showing you that strength comes from within, even when life gets hard.

- The bond between you two only deepens, and Kurt’s gentle presence is something you come to cherish. He may not be your dad by blood, but he’s family through and through. Kurt’s unwavering faith in you becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that you’re never truly alone as long as he’s around.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is used to being responsible and disciplined, so when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” during a heated disagreement, he doesn’t take it lightly. He stands there, tense and quiet, then responds, “I know. But do you?” before walking away, clearly hurt but too proud to let it show.

- That night, you can’t stop replaying the argument in your head. Scott may be strict, but he’s always had your best interests at heart. He’s spent countless hours training and guiding you, doing everything in his power to prepare you for the dangers of the world. As you think back, you start to feel the weight of what you said, realizing how much you’ve taken him for granted.

- You begin to understand that, in his own quiet way, Scott has been a father figure to you, even if he doesn’t say it outright. Every stern lecture, every training session—it was his way of protecting you, showing he cared. The guilt eats at you, and you know you need to make things right.

- The next morning, you approach him in the War Room, nervous but determined. You tell him how much his guidance means to you, how you didn’t mean what you said. Scott listens carefully, his expression softening as he nods. “We’re a team, and that means we’re family,” he says firmly. “I’m here for you, always.”

- From then on, Scott’s support becomes even more evident. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but he makes it clear that he’s in your corner, no matter what. He starts opening up to you more, sharing his own struggles with responsibility, letting you see the weight he carries as a leader and mentor.

- Over time, you come to appreciate Scott’s steady presence, realizing how lucky you are to have him as a father figure. He may be tough, but his loyalty is unwavering, and he’ll always have your back. In Scott, you find a kind of steadfast strength that reminds you every day that family isn’t defined by blood—it’s built on respect, care, and unwavering support.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s kindness is boundless, so when you shout, “You’re not my mom!” during an argument, her expression drops, a mix of shock and sadness. She takes a deep breath, her voice calm but strained, and says, “I know, but I care about you just the same. Do you know that?” With that, she steps back, giving you space to cool down, but the sadness in her eyes lingers.

- In the quiet that follows, you feel a pang of regret. Jean has always been there for you, her gentle support unwavering, guiding you with both warmth and patience. You remember the countless times she’s been there to comfort you, a soothing presence who never hesitated to make you feel loved. The memory of her expression, the way her shoulders slumped, makes you feel worse.

- That night, you find yourself replaying the argument over and over. You begin to realize how much Jean’s presence has shaped your life, that she’s been more than just a mentor or friend—she’s been like a mother, even if neither of you ever said it out loud. Each memory fills you with gratitude and a growing need to make things right.

- The next day, you find Jean in the garden, tending to the flowers with her usual care. Tentatively, you approach her, stumbling over an apology. She listens, her eyes soft as she pulls you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I know these things aren’t easy. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Her forgiveness is instant, her hug comforting, as if she understands all you can’t say.

- After that, Jean becomes even more of a mother figure, offering a patient ear and a shoulder to lean on whenever you need. Her kindness is a quiet strength that you come to lean on more and more. You notice she checks in on you more often, making sure you know she’s there, even when words don’t need to be said.

- Over time, you come to cherish her presence even more, recognizing her as your found family. With Jean, you feel safe, loved, and valued, and her quiet guidance reminds you every day that family doesn’t have to be by blood. It’s in the love you choose to share, and Jean’s love is as steady as the rising sun.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s calm strength is like a force of nature, but when you yell, “You’re not my mom!” it’s as if a storm has passed through her eyes. She doesn’t lash out, doesn’t even raise her voice, but she looks at you with a steady gaze and says, “I know that, little one. Do you?” Her words are gentle but piercing, and she leaves you to ponder them.

- That night, as the weight of your words sinks in, guilt gnaws at you. Ororo has always treated you with kindness and respect, guiding you through life’s challenges with wisdom and care. She’s been your rock, the person who’s grounded you, and you feel ashamed for taking her love and protection for granted.

- You think back to all the moments Ororo has been there for you: teaching you about the world, sharing her culture, and encouraging you to be true to yourself. You realize that she’s been more than a mentor—she’s been family. Her quiet strength and unwavering love have been like the rain, nourishing you and helping you grow.

- The next day, you find Ororo on the rooftop, gazing at the horizon. Gathering your courage, you apologize, explaining how much she means to you. She listens, her gaze as steady and calm as ever, before she gently places a hand on your shoulder. “I forgive you,” she says with a small smile. “Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about the bonds we choose.” Her words bring you a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

- After that, Ororo takes on an even more motherly role, gently guiding you and always offering wisdom when you need it most. You start spending more time together, finding solace in her presence and strength in her words. She reminds you of your own resilience, always making you feel capable and valued.

- Ororo’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense. Her support is unwavering, her guidance is steady, and with her, you find the sense of belonging and family you never realized you craved. She’s a mother figure, not by title but by choice, and her love fills a space in your heart you hadn’t known was empty.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles rarely shows disappointment, but when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He looks at you thoughtfully, his calm, composed demeanor intact, and simply says, “I know that, but are you sure?” before quietly excusing himself. His voice is soft, but the weight of his words lingers.

- As the reality of your words hits you, a wave of guilt follows. Charles has dedicated himself to making you feel safe, offering guidance, structure, and endless patience. He’s been more than just a mentor—he’s been a father figure, the one who’s always there to listen and guide you without judgment.

- You begin to reflect on all the small gestures he’s made to show he cares, from teaching you with kindness to offering you advice when life felt overwhelming. Charles has seen potential in you from the start, treating you with respect and compassion, and the thought of hurting him leaves a knot in your chest.

- The next day, you approach his study, nervous but determined to apologize. Charles listens, his usual calm presence enveloping you in a sense of safety. He smiles gently, nodding as you express your regrets, and simply says, “I understand, and I forgive you.” His forgiveness feels like a weight lifted, and he reminds you that love and family are choices, not just obligations.

- After that, you feel even closer to Charles, and he continues to be your steadfast supporter. He encourages you to pursue your strengths, guiding you with wisdom and patience, and you start to see him as a father figure you can truly depend on. His calm understanding becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that family can be chosen and built on mutual respect.

- Charles’s influence becomes a grounding force in your life, his guidance always there to lift you up. With him, you find a sense of belonging and love that goes beyond mere words. He may not be your biological father, but he’s family in every way that matters, and his unwavering belief in you becomes a constant source of strength.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is not known for his patience, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” it’s like a slap to the face. His eyes harden, his voice cold as he responds, “I know, but perhaps you don’t.” With that, he turns away, his pride wounded but his expression betraying a flicker of sadness. For Erik, family is sacred, and your words cut deep.

- That night, guilt starts to creep in. Erik has been harsh, yes, but he’s always shown you the value of strength, resilience, and conviction. He’s taught you to be bold, to stand up for yourself, and though his methods are tough, he’s been there for you in ways that no one else has. You begin to realize how much you owe to his guidance.

- Memories flood back of times when Erik’s fierce loyalty protected you, his dedication ensuring you never felt alone. He’s been like a father to you, albeit a strict one, and as the guilt weighs on you, you see that his rough edges have been his way of showing love, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

- The next day, you approach him with an apology, your voice shaky but sincere. Erik listens, his piercing gaze softened by something like understanding. He accepts your apology, and in his own stern way, he reminds you that strength is born of struggle. His words are harsh, but his forgiveness is there, hidden beneath his rough demeanor.

- From that moment on, Erik’s presence becomes even more of a steady force in your life. He challenges you to be your best, pushing you to embrace your potential, and though he rarely shows open affection, his actions speak louder than words. He’ll protect you fiercely, his bond with you deepening as he takes on the role of a mentor and protector.

- Erik’s influence makes you feel strong and capable, and while he’s a difficult figure to love, you know that he’s chosen you as family. His pride and determination inspire you to believe in yourself, and even if he’ll never say it directly, his loyalty is proof that you’re family to him, forged through fire and unbreakable.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank is rarely one to raise his voice, but when you blurt out, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, he freezes. For a moment, he’s quiet, his face clouded with hurt before he gives you a calm but serious look. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve always tried to be here for you, haven’t I?” His voice is gentle, yet his words sting in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Without another word, he leaves, giving you the space you both clearly need.

- As you cool down from the argument, guilt quickly sets in. Hank has been nothing but patient and caring, always offering you understanding and support when you needed it most. His gentle presence has been a source of comfort, and the memory of the sadness in his eyes makes you realize how deeply you’ve hurt him.

- Reflecting on all the times Hank has been there for you, you remember how he would stay up late to help you with your studies, his voice soft and encouraging as he shared his vast knowledge. His kindness was never forced; he genuinely cared, and you start to see that he’s been like a father figure all along, even if neither of you ever put a name to it.

- The next day, you find Hank in the lab, engrossed in his work as usual. Hesitantly, you apologize, struggling to find the right words. Hank stops what he’s doing, looking at you with that familiar, gentle expression. “I appreciate your apology,” he says, his tone warm and forgiving. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel better; his soft smile is enough to lift the weight from your shoulders.

- After that, Hank is still there for you, but the bond between you feels stronger. He seems to make an effort to check in on you more often, even gently guiding you through life’s challenges with his usual wisdom and warmth. You realize how much you’ve come to rely on him as a steady presence in your life.

- Hank’s compassion and patience become pillars of support as you grow, and he becomes more than just a mentor—he’s family. His encouragement and gentle guidance make you feel valued, and you start to understand that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about those who choose to stand by you, even when things get tough. With Hank, you’ve found a father figure in the truest sense.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you yell, “You’re not my mom!” in a heated moment, Wanda’s eyes flash with pain. She takes a deep breath, her voice steady but laced with hurt as she responds, “I know I’m not. But I’ve always tried to be there for you, haven’t I?” Her voice is soft, a mix of sadness and disappointment that lingers in the air as she turns away, giving you the space you clearly need.

- Guilt settles over you like a weight as you recall everything Wanda has done for you. She’s been a constant source of love and protection, going out of her way to create a safe space for you in a chaotic world. Her kindness has been unwavering, and the memory of her hurt expression leaves you feeling remorseful.

- You begin to remember all the times Wanda has comforted you, her gentle presence like a soothing balm when the world felt overwhelming. She’s always known what to say, her intuition guiding her as she wrapped you in warmth and reassurance. You realize how much her presence means to you, that she’s been a mother figure even if you never said it.

- The next day, you approach Wanda, the words of an apology on your lips. She listens, her eyes softening as you explain how sorry you are. She pulls you into a gentle hug, murmuring, “It’s okay. I understand.” Her forgiveness is immediate, her embrace warm and reassuring, and you feel the weight of your guilt lift as you lean into her.

- After that, Wanda continues to be there for you, her love as constant and unwavering as ever. She’s more protective, always ensuring you know you’re loved and valued. Her presence feels like home, a reminder that family is more than just titles; it’s the bond you share and the love that endures even through difficult moments.

- Over time, Wanda becomes even more of a mother figure, her guidance and love anchoring you as you grow. With her, you find a sense of belonging, a family built on mutual care and understanding. Wanda’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro has always been quick to defend you, so when you shout, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, his face falls, his usual bravado replaced by a flicker of hurt. He hesitates, then responds with a hint of vulnerability, “I know I’m not. But I care about you, and that’s not going to change.” He doesn’t say much more, leaving with a hint of frustration and sadness.

- Your heart aches almost immediately after the words leave your mouth. Pietro has always been a constant in your life, fiercely protective and ready to do anything to keep you safe. His loyalty has been unwavering, and the memory of his hurt expression weighs on you, leaving you feeling guilty.

- As the regret settles in, you begin to think back to all the moments Pietro has been there for you, his fast-paced life slowing down whenever you needed him. His protectiveness might come off as overbearing, but it’s always been rooted in love. You realize how much you mean to him, that he’s been like a father figure, even if neither of you put it into words.

- The next day, you find him in the training room, going through a series of drills. Nervously, you approach him with an apology. Pietro pauses, listening intently, and his usual cocky grin returns as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, kid. Family fights sometimes.” His words are light, but there’s a warmth in his tone that makes you feel forgiven.

- From then on, Pietro is still as protective as ever, though he seems to make an extra effort to remind you that he’s there for you. He includes you in his adventures, always finding ways to bring laughter and excitement into your life. His loyalty is fierce, and you find comfort in the way he’s chosen to stand by you.

- Pietro’s support becomes a source of strength, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s there for you in ways that matter, his love loud and unfiltered. With him, you’ve found a father figure who’s more than willing to face the world at your side, his loyalty a constant reminder that family is chosen as much as it is given.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade’s never been the most conventional parental figure, but when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” he goes silent. It’s rare to see him at a loss for words, but the hurt that flickers across his face is hard to miss. After a pause, he says, “Hey, I know that, but... I kinda thought we had something here, y’know?” He tries to play it off, but the sadness in his voice lingers as he gives you space.

- Almost immediately, regret starts to settle in. Wade has been your protector, your friend, and even if he’s unconventional, he’s always made sure you’re safe. He’s taught you to laugh, to find humor even in dark situations, and the thought of hurting him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

- You think back to all the times Wade has made you feel cared for, his offbeat sense of humor a constant source of comfort. He’s been like a father in his own chaotic way, always finding unique ways to show he cares. The memory of his hurt expression haunts you, and you feel a strong need to make things right.

- Finding Wade isn’t hard; he’s at the usual hangout, cracking jokes to mask whatever he’s feeling. You approach him, offering an apology, and he listens, his face breaking into a goofy grin. “Oh, kid, you can’t get rid of me that easy!” he teases, pulling you into a bear hug that’s both ridiculous and comforting.

- After that, Wade goes back to being his usual chaotic self, but he’s even more protective, throwing around jokes about being your “self-appointed, totally unofficial, slightly psychotic dad.” His antics make you laugh, and you come to appreciate his unique way of showing love, realizing he’s been there for you all along.

- Wade’s love may be unorthodox, but it’s real, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s the loud, unpredictable presence you didn’t know you needed, his humor and loyalty bringing you a sense of belonging. With Wade, you’ve found a father figure who’ll stand by you, his love chaotic and unconditional in every way that matters.

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests/ask me anything!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[himluv]

Ok. Here's my first attempt at writing Lucanis and Spite. This isn't my favorite piece of DA fic I've written, but I had to get it out of system.

Also, I am writing Lucanis as demisexual. That is my accepted headcanon, and I am writing it from personal experience.

Enjoy, I guess? 😂

(below the cut because spoilers?)

Lucanis leaned into his palm where it pressed against the stone just above Rook’s head. He felt drawn to her, pulled across the floor until there was just a feather’s width between them. It was such an infrequent feeling – this wanting – that he almost hadn’t recognized it the first time. Now, the thrum of desire through his body was unmistakable.

But did she feel it too?

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, offering her a convenient escape route.

She smiled. “Sometimes the bad ideas are best.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. It seemed she always knew just what to say. Like that night at the cafe. He’d felt a slight thrill at the table, a rush at how easily the conversation volleyed between them. It wasn’t until much later that night, replaying her voice in his head, that he’d ached with realization. She’d been talking about much more than how she liked her coffee.

“You like walking a little too close to the edge.” Again, a warning. He would push, gently, until she saw reason. Because, surely, once she looked close enough, she would turn away.

“So do you.”

She reached for him, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might hook her finger through his lapel chain and tug him toward her. His stomach flipped, his smile widened, and he couldn’t avoid glancing at her lips. Mierda, he wanted to taste her.

But she did not touch him, her hand hovered there at his sternum and a desperate flash of want pulsed through him.

This was dangerous territory. She had no idea just how close to the edge they were. How easy it would be for her to push him off this cliff, and Lucanis would fall helplessly in love.

He looked right at her, his gaze heavy. “At least I know when I’m doing it.”

At the edge of a cliff…

What if he chose to jump?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned toward her, felt her do the same –

– Crisp air, sunlight on water, smells like trees and magic. Arlathan.

Lucanis’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back so quickly that Rook gave him a startled look.

“I… need to clear my head,” he said. As if he could do such a thing with Spite taking up so much space.

Space, he needed space. Between him and Spite, but also between him and Rook. He needed to breathe. Why did his chest feel so tight?

He stepped away from her, his palm now pressed to his waistcoat as he gave her the tiniest bow. “Excuse me.”

Then he turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the weight of her gaze on his back. He brushed a hand through his hair, tugged at his waistcoat. Lucanis was not a tall man, but it took surprisingly few strides to cross the dining room and step out into the courtyard. He took a deep, shaky breath and quelled the urge to rub at the constant itch behind his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. He felt jittery, out of control. Perhaps all the coffee mixed with the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him?

She makes you nervous, Spite sneered.

Lucanis said nothing. There was no point lying to Spite, it would only encourage the demon to keep talking. Instead he headed toward the library balconies – they were the closest thing the Lighthouse had to a rooftop. He needed height. Needed perspective.

Surprisingly, Spite was quiet until Lucanis stood staring out at the blank expanse of the Fade and his heart rate had settled some in his chest.

Finally, the demon asked, why?

Lucanis sighed. “Why what?”

Spite growled, irritated at having to explain himself. Rook. Makes. You. Nervous. WHY?

Lucanis winced as the word rebounded inside his skull. “You don’t have to shout.”

Spite made an unconvinced noise.

“And besides,” Lucanis said. “You know why.”

Make it make sense. We. Like. Rook.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “A little too much.”

Ahhhhh. Spite sniffed, as if savoring something delicious in the air. Scared.

Another truth he’d have to let lie between himself and the demon.

Let her in and get cut deep. See inside then turn away. Won’t want you. Oooh, or worse, she does want and then she di–

“Enough!” The word echoed out into the Fade, silencing the demon. “Enough,” Lucanis whispered. He didn’t need Spite to help him overthink all the ways kissing Rook could go wrong.

Want more than that.

The most surprising truth of them all. Lucanis could count the number of people he’d felt genuine attraction for on one hand. The only one he’d ever tried to pursue had misread him so completely he’d just given up.

As much as he longed for romance, he just wasn’t good at it. Love was something meant for characters in novels, or people like Teia and Viago. Not him.

Not love. What?

Before the Ossuary, Lucanis would have had an answer to a question like that. The Crows. House Dellamorte. Mediating peace between Illario’s ambitions and Caterina’s wishes. He liked being a Crow. He was good at it, and had never wanted more, a fact that had vexed Illario and pleased their grandmother.

And it was all gone.

Caterina was dead. In his current state, Lucanis was not fit to take her place as she’d desired. Illario would become First Talon, like he’d always wanted. If Lucanis somehow survived this contract, perhaps House Dellamorte would allow him back. Perhaps the future he and Illario had fantasized as boys might actually come to pass. Perhaps he and Rook…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Bah!

Lucanis sighed and shook his head. Then he and the demon walked back to the dining hall in silence. And in that silence was another, terrifying truth.

For the first time in his life, Lucanis Dellamorte didn't know what his future held.

[beardedmrbean]

Centrist Democrats are slamming their far-left colleagues following Election Day, arguing that their emphasis on "identity politics" and other issues handed huge victories to the GOP.

Rep. Ritchie Torres, D-N.Y., argued that President-elect Trump has "no greater friend than the far left." Like-minded Democrats say racial politics, anti-police rhetoric and gender hysteria are alienating millions of voters.

"There is more to lose than there is to gain politically from pandering to a far left that is more representative of Twitter, Twitch, and TikTok than it is of the real world," Torres wrote on X. "The working class is not buying the ivory-towered nonsense that the far left is selling."

Longtime Democratic strategist James Carville put it more bluntly in a Sunday interview with the New York Times, calling "defund the police" the "three stupidest words in the English language."

"We could never wash off the stench of it," he said.

Torres is one of several Democratic lawmakers in both the House and the Senate who have called out his party's "nonsense." One centrist House Democrat complained to Axios on Monday that the "identity politics stuff is absolutely killing us."

Sen. Chris Murphy, D-Conn., argued on Sunday that Democrats are "out of touch with the crisis of meaning/purpose fueling MAGA."

"We don't listen enough; we tell people what's good for them. And when progressives like Bernie aggressively go after the elites that hold people down, they are shunned as dangerous populists. Why? Maybe because true economic populism is bad for our high-income base," Murphy wrote.

Not all Democrats are ready to make a change, however. When Rep. Seth Moulton, D-Mass., broke with his party to condemn biological males playing in women's sports last week, he faced an avalanche of hate.

"Democrats spend way too much time trying not to offend anyone rather than being brutally honest about the challenges many Americans face," Moulton said in a New York Times report. "I have two little girls, I don’t want them getting run over on a playing field by a male or formerly male athlete, but as a Democrat I’m supposed to be afraid to say that."

The statement resulted in calls for Moulton to resign, and at least one of his staffers quit in protest.

Massachusetts state Rep. Manny Cruz suggested Moulton's stance was "a betrayal" in a post on X.

"Congressman Moulton, your commitment then was protecting the LGBTQ community, standing up for their rights, and compassion. Now, on a political whim, our Congressman has betrayed the words he signed onto just last year by scapegoating transgender youth in sports for the failures of the national Democratic Party and leaders to win the presidential election. You said you 'would stand with Nagly and with all our community … against all forms of bigotry, discrimination, bullying, and harassment,'" Cruz wrote. 

Salem city Councilor Kyle Davis, another Democrat, called for Moulton to resign. 

"I’m not looking for an apology from [Moulton], I’m looking for a resignation," Davis wrote in a post on X.

Moulton refused to apologize and instead doubled down in a statement late last week.

"I will fight, as I always have, for the rights and safety of all citizens. These two ideas are not mutually exclusive, and we can even disagree on them. Yet there are many who, shouting from the extreme left corners of social media, believe I have failed the unspoken Democratic Party purity test," he said.

"We did not lose the 2024 election because of any trans person or issue. We lost, in part, because we shame and belittle too many opinions held by too many voters and that needs to stop. Let’s have these debates now, determine a new strategy for our party since our existing one failed, and then unite to oppose the Trump agenda wherever it imperils American values."

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: you know the episode 4.19 where Sam and Dean get a call from their supposed half brother and their rightfully suspicious and it ends up being a hunt for them? What about instead of Sam getting tied down and bled it’s their baby sister? She’s small and young and definitely shouldn’t be losing this much blood, she can’t even lift herself up after Sam and Dean manage to free her. Pls and thank you!

Request: I have a request on s4 e19 when Sam gets tortured by the ghouls. Can you reverse the roles with Winchester sister? No rush do whenever you want. Just remember to take breaks and drink water! Bye! :)

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Extreme Blood Loss

A/N: Please let me know if you like this because it helps motivate me to write more lol! Requests are open and if I haven’t gotten to yours yet feel free to request again because I have over 200 requests and I’m working on a bunch. You can request anything and everything I don’t care and I will never get annoyed!!

“Okay we’ve closed off every other way into the house.” You said to Adam, looking at the last tunnel in the house that wasn’t closed off. “If this thing is coming, it’s coming through here.” You finished at the same time as a door creaked through the house. Your attention immediately snapped towards the noise.

“You were saying?” Adam asked and you looked back towards him.

“Adam!” You heard from the other room and your heart sank.

“Adam!” It cried again, but before you could make your next move Adam was already calling back out.

“Mom?” Adam yelled, ready to run.

“No!” You tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen.

“Mom!” He yelled out and pushed past you.

“Adam!” You shouted after him, getting your gun ready. You ran down the steps after him trying to get him to stop.

“Mom?” You heard him sigh in relief.

“Adam no wait!” You cried out and rounded the corner to see Adam and the monster.

“It took me, but I got away.” It cried as Adam embraced her.

“Adam, step away from it.” You screamed with your gun pointed.

“Y/N, what the hell?” He shouted at you, confused.

“It’s not your mother!” You tried to reason with him.

“Adam, who—what is going on?” The monster cried.

“Get away from him!” You yelled at it starting to feel hopeless.

“What is going on?” It cried.

“You listen to me. It’s really her, okay?” Adam said, pushing it behind him.

“There was too much blood, your mother’s dead. There was too much blood in the vents!” You yelled trying to quickly explain before he snatched the gun out of your hand.

“Adam!” It cried.

“Shoot it!” You screamed, now terrified of the predicament you were both in.

“He’s crazy, it’s me!” It yelled in protest of the gun being pointed at it and immediately Adam pointed the gun back at you.

“Look—Adam!” You cried.

“It’s me!” It said.

“That’s not your mother!” You screamed trying to save the both of you and make him understand that his mother was not his mother and in fact the monster they were hunting. He flipped the gun back on the monster.

“Shoot it! It’s not human!” You yelled, trying to get through to him.

“I know.” He smirked, turning to face you. You had no time to be confused with what the hell was happening before he hit you with the butt of the gun and everything went black.

——-

You woke up to humming and noticed you were tied down to a table. You started struggling to get yourself out, but to no avail.

“Silver. No need none of the tests worked. You’re not shapeshifters. You’re ghouls.” You sneered, staring at Adam’s fake mom.

“You know, I find that term racist.” She replied with a knife in her hand.

“Huh.” You said with attitude, rolling your eyes. You tried to free yourself once more when she came to you sniffing you and biting your ear.

“Ew! Get away you weirdo freak!” You yelled. You had quite a bad problem with bad mouthing monsters and it always ended up biting you in the butt.

“Fresh meat. So much better than what we’re used to.” She grinned.

“Oh I should’ve known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don’t usually go after the living because you’re all just disgusting, filthy, nasty, trash pickers, taking form of the last corpse you choke down like a scavenger.” You sneered, again with the name calling. She was lucky you had to get to the point because you were just going to go on and on with all the negative words in the dictionary.

“And their thoughts, and their memories. Like Adam for instance.” Fake Adam said, walking into the room.

“Yeah well we are what we eat.” She chuckled.

“You’re pathetic monsters.” You said with disgust. Fake Adam sliced your one arm open and you let out a groan. His fake mom immediately went to licking the blood.

“That was for calling us pathetic.” Adam said.

“Yeah I’d call you a lot more than that. Do you have time?” You asked sarcastically, still struggling to get away.

“You know you use that word a lot, Y/N. Monsters.” Fake Adam said and brought the knife down on the table missing you by just an inch.

“But I don’t think you know what it means.” He finished as his fake mom continued to lick the blood pouring out of your arm.

“Her blood—it tastes different.” She said in confusion.

“Our father was a monster? Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Y/N. Living anyway.” Fake Adam smirked and grabbed the knife.

“No he was no monster. But the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester.” Adam’s fake mom said trickling the knife up and down your body. Fake Adam stuck his fingers into the wound on your side and you cried out in pain.

“Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I, grew up on our own.” She explained as he twisted his finger deeper into your side and you let out a scream.

“At least we had each other.” She finished. He took his finger out of your wound and licked the blood off of it.

“Like you and your brothers— inseparable.” He said.

“Actually it was very hard to get you on your own. Your brothers are almost always keeping you out of harms way. Awww how protective.” She said sarcastically.

“So we figured instead of killing all of you, why not just kill you? They would suffer way more knowing that their wittle baby sister is dead.” He said in a fake sad voice.

“Go to hell.” You managed to get out.

“Like you said, Y/N, the only thing you can count on is family.” He said as she sucked more blood out of your arm.

“And for 20 years, we lived like rats. Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh. And then we thought hey why not move up to the fresher game?” She said.

“And we knew just where to start.” He smirked and started carving on your other arm. You cried out in pain and felt the world fading around you.

“Revenge— it’s never over, is it, Y/N?” He asked, still carving around your arm.

“First, it was John’s cop friend, and then his slut and then his son.” She said twirling her knife around.

“Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead.” Adam sighed, disappointed.

“So I guess you will have to do instead.” She said, petting the side of your face.

“And they won’t interrupt us this time. We’re gonna feed on you nice and slow— like we did with Adam.” He said.

“Oh and by the way, he really was your brother. You should know that.” She grinned. You struggled against the ropes that tied you down, trying anything to escape.

“He was still alive when we took our first bites.” He smiled.

“And he was a screamer!” She said before she sliced your entire forearm. Fake Adam followed after her and sliced your arm again. You screamed in pain and thrashed. You could feel the blood pooling out of your body and you could hear it dripping into the bowls. The way it flowed like a waterfall made you feel absolutely sick. You knew you were going to bleed out and that you didn’t have much time left.

“Y/N, the more you struggle, the faster you’re going to bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax.” Adam said as you whined and whimpered, trying to stay awake.

“Hey!” You heard Dean scream and a shot ring out.

“Dean, they’re ghouls-“ You tried screaming, but you were so weak it came out as a whisper. You knew Dean heard you though because another shot rung out.

“Which means headshot.” He said as Sam came stumbling into the room.

“Y/N!” He yelled before he was taken down by fake Adam and thrown through the glass doors. Dean immediately followed suit as you groaned and cried out. Your breaths were becoming rapid and shorter. You didn’t have enough energy to pick up your head to see the fight going down. It felt like forever before you saw blurry figure walk back into the room. Not knowing who it was, you tried to get your body to move. You felt like you had a fifty pound weight holding your body down.

“No!” You whimpered weakly, knowing you had no fight left in you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, it’s Sam, sweetheart. I got you, you’re safe.” You heard Sam and felt him cup your cheeks to get your attention.

“S‘mmy.” You slurred.

“Yeah, hey bug, it’s me, I got you.” Sam said softly trying to comfort you, knowing that it was bad.

“Dean, she’s freezing cold.” Sam cried out trying to stay calm.

“Shit.” Dean said panicking. You felt the rope being cut off of your one wrist and you groaned out in pain.

“I know kid, I know. Hang in there for me okay?” Dean said, knowing that it was painful, but it had to be done. He started cutting the other one on your wrist while Sam started on your ankles. You felt your heart racing, your body sweating and your skin clammy. You could barely hang on to consciousness and your body felt weighed down by a million weights.

“Mmm scared.” You slurred looking into the blurriness of your brothers.

“You’re going to be okay sweetheart alright? You’re going to be fine. Just keep talking to us okay?” Sam asked, now full on panicking, but trying to keep you calm. You knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much blood and you weren’t sure if you were going to be okay. You let a few tears slide down your cheeks as you struggled to catch your breath.

“No, no, no. You’re going to be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you.” Dean said noticing your tears. He quickly placed rags on your forearms and held them tight to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain and tried to pull away when you felt him putting pressure on them.

“I know kid, I know. I’m sorry.” Dean said clenching his jaw. Sam made his next move by helping you sit up, but your body felt like jelly. You couldn’t lift yourself up as your head lobbed to the side of you. This feeling absolutely terrified you and left your body trembling in fear. The impending doom was taking over and it was paralyzing you. As your brothers scrambled around you trying to support your body, they urgently discussed their next steps in helping you when you interrupted.

“Mm I going to die?” You whispered weakly, blinking away the dots that clouded your vision. Scared that if you closed them, you wouldn’t open them again.

“HEY, HEY!” Dean yelled and tapped your face. Your eyes snapped wide open and your body trembled uncontrollably as you whimpered in fear.

“You’re not going to die. Do you hear me? Just keep those eyes open for me, alright?” Dean asked with fear in his own eyes, but when he looked into yours he was met with confusion.

“Wh-what?” You started. In an instant, you were confused. Where were you? What happened?

“De?” You called out for your eldest brother, the one who took care of you your entire life. The one who was always there for you when you called.

“Yeah I’m here baby, I’m here.” He said. Baby? He only called you that when something serious was happening. You finally took in your surroundings and saw yourself covered in blood as your brothers worked around you.

“What happened!” You cried out, completely confused and dazed.

“Relax sweetheart, you’re going to be okay, alright? You’re going to be okay.” You heard Sam say as he lifted your body off of the table. You grunted in pain, but your body only grew heavier.

“There’s too much blood!” Dean cried.

“I know, I know!” Sam yelled in frustration.

It felt like time was skipping because the next thing you knew, you were in the impala. You glanced to your right and noticed your dad.

“Dad?” You asked, fuzzily. Dean immediately looked towards Sam who glanced down towards you.

“She’s hallucinating Dean, she’s lost too much blood.” Sam said stealing a concerned glance towards his brother. Dean gripped the steering wheel tight and cursed silently, speeding faster.

“Dad, I missed you.” You cried, which caused Dean to completely break.

“Hey baby, no, dad’s not here, alright? Dad’s not here.” He said weakly, completely terrified of his sister’s state.

“Mmm t’red.” You said weakly, the heaviness and the blood loss making their last round on you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, sweetheart, you’ve gotta stay awake.” Sam said urgently, but you didn’t listen and closed your eyes in exhaustion.

“Keep your eyes open please!” Sam cried out and tapped your face. It had no effect on you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

———

You jumped awake to a beeping noise in a complete panic. You were in a daze and physically couldn’t lift yourself up which made you panic more.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” You heard Dean say, but the beeping noise only got faster. You were in total confusion and couldn’t make out where you were.

“Relax for me kid, you’re alright.” You heard Dean again and this time felt a hand placed on you. You groggily looked around and saw that you were in a hospital room. You immediately went into an intense shiver unsure if it was from how cold you were or if it was from the nerves that just overcame you. Dean cupped the side of your face, no doubt feeling your body tremor.

“You’re okay.” He said softly, giving you a reassuring nod.

“So cold.” You made out and he sent you a sad look.

“Alright, let me go find a nurse and get you some more blankets.” He replied hesitantly unsure if he wanted to leave you alone when Sam walked into the room with coffee. Sam’s immediate sigh of relief when he saw you awake and his glance towards Dean made you realize how serious whatever happened to you was. Dean left the room and Sam walked towards you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said softly, sitting in front of you.

“Sammy.” You smiled weakly and tried to reach out to him. He immediately got the hint and took your hands into his.

“I’m here.” He said gently and rubbed his fingers on your hand.

“I’m so weak.” You mumbled, trying to understand why your body felt so heavy.

“What happened?” You whispered, not remembering anything that took place. Sam’s face fell and his eyes filled with sorrow.

“The ghouls had you bleeding out and when we got to you it was almost too late. You were so pale and you were ice cold. You were so cold bug, it terrified me.” Sam said, looking away and trying to collect himself.

“There was blood everywhere, we weren’t even sure how you were alive at that point. Then you started hallucinating and went unconscious. We thought we lost you, God we were so scared.” He said, shedding a tear and quickly wiping it before it could drop.

“We rushed you to the hospital, not knowing if you were even alive and waited around for hours not hearing anything. Then the doctor came out and told us you were stabilized, but lost 35% of your blood. He said you should’ve died and that it was nothing less of a miracle.” He said as his voice cracked.

“You were in a coma for two weeks.” He explained quietly, knowing this was going to freak you out.

“I’ve been out for two weeks?!” You asked, hysterically.

“They said it could’ve been up to a couple months, we just weren’t sure when you’d wake up.” He said as you just stared blankly at him.

“We were so terrified to lose you. Dean even prayed a few times.” He finished. You both knew that Dean never prayed and he never believed that there was a God out there so the fact that it got to the point where Dean was praying, made you extremely emotional. The tears started streaming down your face.

“I’m so sorry Sammy, I should’ve known it was a trap.” You cried, feeling terrible and guilty that your brothers had to be put through something so traumatic because of your own mistake.

“Sweetheart, no, it’s not your fault. Me and Dean should’ve never left you alone with Adam. We weren’t thinking and it almost cost you your life.” Sam said, staring into your eyes and wiping your tears. Before you could say something back, the door opened. Dean, a few nurses and a doctor walked in. They checked your vitals and explained that you were going to be very weak for about a month. You had iron deficiency anemia due to the blood loss and it would take a long time for you to start feeling normal again. They left the room and Dean put the extra blankets that they brought in on top of you. The weight and coziness of the blankets made you immediately feel tired. Your brothers took notice and Dean kissed the side of your head.

“Get some rest kid, we’ll be here.” Dean reassured.

“Thank you for saving me.” You smiled softly looking between your brothers.

“Always.” Dean said as Sam grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

[cosmicalily]

"written by the aces" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

6. "stay" | lee felix x gn!reader

Don’t be lonely ‘cause you’re not alone, gotta send me pictures, save em to my room, if I fly to see you would it feel like home? If I change my number, you’re the first to know

author's note: literally minimal side notes from me, i just rly love this angel boy.

warnings: ji gets drunk, ji gets kicked (with much love)

“No, dipshit, I said orange soda, not lemon,” Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically as you showed him what was in your shopping basket. 

“Shut up, they’re literally the same,” you fought back, not wanting to walk the full length of the grocery store again. “You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.”

Jisung smiled sweetly. “I am! What a bundle of joy you are, Y/N!” 

You reached forward to smack him with the bottle, then, thinking better of the carbonated consequences, kicked his shins instead. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” Jisung whimpered, rubbing his leg. “Do you have to wear those platformed boots everywhere?”

You giggled and flicked a braid over your shoulder. “It’s part of my charm. And actually, they’re called stompers. My friend named them when I got my first pair of Docs as a kid.”

“The Monster Stomper 3000s,” a voice added from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and turned around, coming face-to-face with a boy with freckled cheeks, feline-like features and big brown eyes. A boy whose face you most definitely recognised, although his features had matured. Cheeks a little less chubby, making his cheekbones more prominent. Lips a little fuller, and his hair was now dyed a sandy blonde, the roots darkening. 

“That’s actually the most appropriate name I’ve heard. Especially for a pair of footwear that seem to have caused me more bruises than a weapon of war,” Jisung nodded in agreement, then wandered off to the chip aisle.

The blonde boy was still staring at you, plush lips settling into a sweet smile. “I thought it was you, Y/N, then I knew it was you when you started talking about your stompers. I’m glad you didn’t forget.”

“It was pretty iconic of young Felix, to be honest,” you replied, smiling back. “Why are you back?”

Felix shrugged in Ji’s direction. “His birthday party. Didn’t he tell you? And also, I just missed it here. You never moved out?”

“The little fucker didn’t tell me. And nah, I didn’t want to,” you glanced at a now rather distant Jisung. “Close friends and stuff. I didn’t want to start over. How’s it in Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Felix said thoughtfully. “Nobody knows what stompers are, though.”

“Nobody here knows what stompers are either,” you giggled. Jisung started shouting something from across the store, and you rolled your eyes. “Birthday boy assistant’s duty calls. Sorry, Lix, I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”

Felix nodded and leaned in to hug you before you walked off. It caught you off guard, but you soon melted into his embrace; soft and warm and welcoming, just like he always had been. Your heart thumped a little louder and you swallowed before stepping away. “See you!” he smiled, not missing the pink flush that tinged your cheeks.

Lying face-down in your empty bathtub, Han Jisung was drunker than you’d ever seen.

It was now 5am, and everyone had, naturally, gone home. Although the party had been hosted at Jisung’s, you knew better than to leave him in his current state. He’d probably have found his way to yours regardless, and you didn’t need him wandering the streets. But as you glanced down, taking in his pink cheeks and soft snores, you wondered if you could’ve just left him to sleep in his own bed.

“I told him not to open that second bottle of soju,” Felix sighed, scratching his neck. “He’s really going to regret it when he wakes up.”

“It’s not really in Ji’s nature to listen, Lix,” you replied, resting your head on the blonde’s shoulder. “That’s one habit he definitely hasn’t outgrown since you left, and probably never will. It’s not your fault.”

Felix nodded, slumping a little further onto the cold tiles of your bathroom wall. You two had been sitting there like exhausted parents of a newborn, checking to see if Jisung woke up and cried, needed a drink of water or just wanted to be petted until he fell back asleep. But it had been almost an hour, and despite the occasional snuffle, he seemed out cold.

“I think he’s dead,” Felix remarked, prodding Jisung’s warm cheek.

“Don’t!” you half squealed, half hissed. “He might wake up!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“Well, he’ll probably start complaining and need me to give him medicine and water and then he’ll start talking and you know he won’t stop,” you replied, sighing.

Felix smiled. “Isn’t he like that regardless of whether he’s drunk or not?”

“Pretty much. But I need a break sometimes, you know?”

“You sound like an overtired mum,” Felix chuckled. “We’ll leave him be.” He grabbed your hand and stood up, leading you towards the bathroom door.

You bumped against Felix’s chest awkwardly, your legs asleep from being on the floor a little too long. He caught you, slipping an arm around your waist. You paused, startled by the sensation, then glanced up at him. His eyes were sparkling, the way they always did, but there was some kind of an extra shine to them. You weren’t sure what it was, but you leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, the way you’d been longing to do for so long. Since before he’d left. Since before you’d realised the intensity of your feelings for him. His lips moved against yours, softly, and when you pulled apart, you weren’t sure it had even happened at all.

You felt a dampness on your face, and saw a single tear roll down his freckled cheek. He was still smiling, his eyes shining.

“I really missed you,” Felix whispered. “A lot. I regretted going home a lot of the time.”

“I know,” you replied. “So stay this time. Even just for a bit. Please.”

Felix’s smile faltered a little. “I can’t, as much as I want to. Where would I live? What would I do?”

“You could stay with me, you know you could. Please, Felix. Everyone here loves and misses you. It’s your decision, but just think about it, yeah? Stay the night at least; you can decide in the morning.”

“Alright.”

The sun beamed through the kitchen window, and the soft, sweet scent of pancakes filled the air. Felix was standing by the stove, an arm slung lazily around your waist as you stood beside him, cutting strawberries. You popped one into his mouth, and before you could grab one for yourself, found his lips pressed against yours, the same way he’d kissed you countless times this morning.

There was a sudden thump and a whine, and the both of you sprung apart and turned around. Jisung, hood skimming his squinted eyes, cheeks still flushed and body slouched, was sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

“Where the fuck did you two go? And what’s Felix doing here? I thought your flight was this morning.”

“It’s just now, actually,” Felix said with a smile on his face.

Lee Felix was staying. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was here.

He’d told you he’d be here for as long as you’d have him, and you were pretty darn sure that would be forever.

“You missed your flight?!”

[keyaho]

Because I kinda started and got ahead of myself and started writing on it @pocketsizedpanther / @kumkaniudaku - inspo taken from them!

character name subject to change. stasia is a placeholder name lmao. coming? sometime......

She threw back the curtains separating Terry from direct sunlight. The blackout curtains had done their job, but were no match for the five-foot-two personal assistant with a schedule to maintain. Except her only client was Terry Richmond, certified playboy and a direct pain in her ass twenty hours of the day. 

As she pushed the curtains open, the stench of alcohol, weed, and perfume poisoned her nose. She picked up her iPad and stalked over to the bed. He was half under the covers, one leg siting out from under the blankets, with his face turned to the side on his pillow. As the sun hit his face, she could see his eyes clench. Wake up! She wanted to scream. However, professionally, she tapped his bare shoulder. 

“Mr. Richmond,’ she greeted. “I need you to wake up.” 

He groaned and rolled over, turning his back to her. That wasn’t going to do. She walked to the other side of the bed, where more clothes were. She let out a disgusted sound when she almost stepped on a used condom. This motherfucker…,be calm, Stasia. She thought. Be. Fucking. Calm. 

Was this a frat house? She yanked back the sheets to reveal a naked woman. Again. Her long curly wig was askew and Stasia sighed heavily. This was a regular occurrence. Women came in and out of this man’s apartment like it was a grocery store. Her printer was jammed from printing NDAs and with this current woman passed out, she was glad she got the signature last night. Like normal, she went to a different area of the penthouse, letting him and his fling have privacy. 

Placing her iPad beneath her arm, Stasia shook the woman awake. She was greeted with a scowl and as the girl tried curling up to Terry, he placed his hand on her face, mushing her backwards. 

“Get dressed and get out. Stasia, get her a ride.” 

He didn’t even look up or open his beady little blue eyes. 

“Yes, Sir,’ she grit through her teeth. 

Taking on Terry had been a huge career advancement. She was tired of working for small players who had her managing doctors appointments and trips to Target. She wanted to work. Mr. Richmond made sure that was the case, however, his tone was always lacking. She thought working for him would be good for her career. It was turning out to be bad for her health. Terry was nerve disrupting, smug, and knew it. He was still leading the pack as a tight end, endorsements were coming left and right, and the press….well, they were always looking for the next hookup turned gossip. 

Yet, as the girl whimpered and pulled herself out of bed Stasia care for none of that. Instead, she wanted to pack her foot into his tight end. 

“Mr. Richmond, I am going to escort Ms. Nicole out. Please, be up by the time I return.” 

Out the corner of her eye she saw his open. Blue and red rimmined, Terry rolled them shut as Stasia pointed towards a dress Nicole was looking for. Why did the league think he needed a babysitter? Because that’s what she was. A babysitter. Always on his ass about something. 

For good measure, Stasia grabbed the sheet he was using to cover up. As she led Nicole out, she pulled the sheets, dragging them to the floor. Luckily his body was in the prone position, but he still shouted profanities as she shut the door. 

Nicole looked at Stasia’s passive face. Clearly she was unamused and not bothered by Terry’s outburst. 

“I don’t see how you put up with him,’ she whispered. 

“I get paid to.” She pointed towards the door. “The driver will take you wherever you need to go.” 

Nicole, had the same optimistic look all his flings did when they left. He filled their heads with tales and reel them in with luxury. 

“He’s going to call me back, right?” Nicole asks, hopefully. 

Stasia looked down at her iPad and then looked up right before the door closes in Nicole’s face. 

“No.” 

He filled their head with lies.

Thank god for NDAs. 

[4ranghaes]

soo,, you're not-compared-to-others-good at song fics (i'm reading them with a great pleasure that you can imagine!! ty for your hard work 🐝⭐) butt what if you find time to write maybe some kind of your associations with boys based on 80s-90s movies?? i think they're all a type of retro bfs ❤️‍🩹 shout out to leehan and patrick swayze parallels istg.......

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd as old movie bfs

ot6 bnd x reader [fluff]

a/n - anonie your mind😍😍 i LIVE off old movies this is one of the best asks i’ve ever received

sungho ~ william thacker from notting hill

thinking specifically about the scene where he crawls across the bed to look at her boobs under the duvet. constantly wearing his glasses as you sit and watch films. stuttering as he tries to be polite as possible offering any food or drink he has available, always such a gentleman. sitting out on the terrace in a terribly boyfriend fit of button-ups and barefeet. protecting you in situations even when he comes across as a total fool. actually does many foolish things, but it’s okay, because you think he’s lovely <3

riwoo ~ cameron james from 10 things i hate about you

smitten from the moment he lays eyes on you. will learn new skills specifically to try and get closer to you. unrelentless in his pining, but always polite and respectful. drives you home. waits until you want to kiss him. may be one of many waiting in line, the more extroverted, brash men trying their hardest to get to you. but he knows he’ll get you in the end.

jaehyun ~ duckie from pretty in pink

for this i’m going back to the original ending of duckie ending up with andie. your best friend. loud, bright, funny, eccentric, and absolutely head over his heels in love with you. even as a friend, is loud and proud about how much he loves you and how beautiful he thinks you are. diligently plays his role as a friend, because he knows you’ll see him for what he is in the end. watches you love and be tortured by other men, helps you when you fall. dedicates everything to you. is so serious about being your future, he’d buy you a house ^-^

taesan ~ kevin dolenz from st. elmo’s fire

tortured poet who would rather go months and months without any romantic or sexual interaction than not have you. watches you with your boyfriend (his best friend) in a haze of jealousy while trying to bury it down deep. he knows he’s cheating on you, he knows you deserve better, but he doesn’t want to break your heart. doesn’t mean to hurt his best friend by swooping in after it falls apart, he’s just loved you for so long he can’t wait another moment for you. starts writing again after you finally know his feelings for you, he’s found happiness again.

leehan ~ ferris bueller from ferris bueller’s day off

okay this is such a strange decision to make im sure because anonie i also agree about patrick swayze, but think about it. charismatic extrovert, not overly loud but just brimming with confidence in everything he does. just wants to have fun and spend time with his loved ones while enjoying his youth, but at the same time, he knows he loves you so much he’s already ready to marry you. he’s not joking either, no matter how much he jokes about other things, this, he’s quite serious about. will organise the craziest things and go to the strangest lengths just to see you smile.

woonhak ~ knox overstreet from dead poet’s society

obsessed. this is his yawp. this is his reason for poetry and art. he doesn’t think he can go on unless he gets you, or at least lets you know how he feels. he knows you have a scary older boyfriend, but maybe you’d see how much of a tool he is once you knew how much he loved you instead! you inspire him and he was right in the end, once you knew him, you did need him too.

[hunter-sylvester]

I've literally never misheard this as a lyric. But every time I listen to P.A.R.T.Y. by Alestorm my brain is CONVINCED that ONE LINE should be different

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I saw your tags on your Percy Jackson post and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the Umbrella Academy 👀👀👀

The tags: #i think both types of stories work#you just have to be CONSISTENT about it [side-eyes umbrella academy]

There's a lot I like about Umbrella Academy, and there's a lot that I forgive in Umbrella Academy because it's a comic book adaptation and most comics have similar problems. BUT.

In S2E9, when the Handler shoots live ammo from a real gun at a child, it's portrayed as sweet and harmless —bullets are just background noise (e.g. James Bond) and this show has slapstick stakes. In S2E10, when the Handler shoots from a real gun at six adults, they have a graphic drawn-out death scene — bullets kill people (e.g. Pulp Fiction) and this is a much darker type of show.

Klaus gets kidnapped and murdered in S1, and his siblings roll their eyes about how he's irresponsible. Klaus gets accidentally killed in S3, and his siblings react with devastation and horror. Violence is funny, when it's Five killing 20 of his coworkers. Violence is horrifying, when it's Viktor killing Pogo. So on.

You can't have it both ways. It creates mood whiplash. It makes the characters feel callous. It can feel like no events ever matter, so there's no point in caring. I can't tell how seriously to take any given scene, because the same sequence of actions is sometimes treated as comedy and sometimes as tragedy.

[aria0fgold]

The Flowerheart!

(purposely didn't colour in Feli's tie and Hal's glove, it's like they're subtly trying to match :3 while also seemingly missing a piece of one another). Honestly though, in regards to Hal's sexuality, he's like that one tweet: "I'm probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc bout that rn." He's definitely queer, but he's too busy with getting in danger his job to even bother with that so he just gets the queer label!

Neither of them confessing orz... They love each other so much yet neither of them are confessing... Hal being overprotective of Feli but in a way where it isn't even all that known by anyone but Feli and her the people really close to them. Hal doing his job is half-wanting to keep their city safe and half-wanting to keep Feli from any harm. He aint letting anyone hurt her that's for sure.

Relationship chart is made by @bengallemon !

[polaroidcats]

I just want to crawl into bed and hide underneath my duvet for like a month but I have to go be a functioning caregiver in like half an hour, I have no idea how people do this full time when it's already breaking me to be a part time caregiver

[hella1975]

im genuinely the dumbest person alive

[angelofblackblood]

I’m so tired.

[pbjpuppy]

hi if u know me DONT FACKING READ THE TAGS I need to shout into the void ok? love you. have a puppy picture