#I feel dizzy and sick for... some reason??

[strwbrychffoncke]

"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

-

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

-

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

-

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

-

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

previous | story masterlist | next

You’re straight up not having a good time. 

Normally, these kinds of events are meant to be fun. Back in your original world, people would get together to kick back and relax, seeking respite from their busy day-to-day lives. Parties and social gatherings are supposed to be things to look forward to. 

In this world, however, that’s not the case. 

Living among the nobility is a staggering difference from what you once knew. Very few people are actually here to enjoy themselves. It’s all about maintaining appearances, and everything you say or do will likely be held against you at some point. Everyone hides their true intentions between fabricated smiles and thinly-veiled threats. It’s a dizzying, confusing affair, and since everyone thinks you’re the villainess, there’s no end to the unwanted attention you receive. 

But that’s not even the biggest problem. It’s one thing to have to try and navigate through this new environment you’ve suddenly been dropped into. 

It’s another thing to have to convince the villainess’ best friend that you’re actually who you say you are. 

“[Name], where are you going?” 

Flynn keeps following you. Rather foolishly, you’d hoped that he would leave you alone after you wandered off. But no, he insists on sticking to your side like glue, and he doesn’t bother to hide how suspicious he is. 

“Is everything okay?” he frowns. “You seem… agitated.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip.

Of fucking course I’m agitated! You’ve been grilling me nonstop from the very start! I only know a few facts about the villainess based on the game! I don’t know the inner workings of her entire goddamn life!

“I’m just bored,” you try to dismiss. “There’s nothing to do here.” 

“Couldn’t we find someplace to talk instead of you walking around in circles like this? It would help the time pass faster.” 

As if. Not only do you want to avoid him for the sake of preventing a potentially gruesome death, but above all else, he knows way too much about the villainess. He’s already asking a ton of questions, and you’ve barely spoken two words to him. He’s simply too perceptive for his own good. 

You strain a smile. “I’d rather not stand still right now.” 

“Hm,” Flynn frowns. “Like I said, you seem agitated. But why?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they laced that wine with something,” you shrug, chuckling a bit.

He doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, and you desperately try to remember whether the villainess had a sense of humor that extended past bullying others for fun. 

Honestly, probably not. 

“Okay, well… gotta go!” 

You high-tail it out of there, but unfortunately, you’ve come to realize that running in heels is a giant pain in the ass. It’s the main reason you haven’t been able to give Flynn the slip yet. All he has to do is speed-walk a bit, and he’s able to keep up with relative ease. 

However, Lady Luck decides to shine down upon you, and in the few seconds that you stumble clumsily and manage to place a bit of distance between yourself and Flynn, you happen to run into your parents.

Your mother is quick to frown. “[Name]? What’s the matter with you, girl? Why are you running around like that? It’s improper.” 

“I feel sick,” you immediately blurt, with the same energy as a young child walking into their parents’ room to tell them they threw up. 

She takes a few moments to look you over, and fortunately, the nervous beads of sweat on your brow and overall frantic expression must be rather convincing. Your father was engaged in a conversation with some other nobleman until just a second ago, but he too turns to look at you, visibly concerned. 

“I’d like to go home,” you state. You add, with a shaky breath, “Please.” 

Right at that moment, Flynn walks up from behind, having just caught up to you once again. 

“[Name],” he sighs. “Seriously, what’s going on with you today? You’re acting—oh. Apologies. I didn’t see you two there.” 

Flynn politely greets your parents, but they don’t pay him much attention, because they’re far too preoccupied with fussing over you. 

“Hello, Flynn,” your father mumbles in a hurry. He presses a hand to your forehead, which is undoubtedly clammy, because you’re a nervous wreck right now. “Oh dear. Forgive me for not being able to stick around for a chat. [Name] seems to be feeling ill. We had better take her home so she can rest.” 

You watch as Flynn’s brows lift. “What?” he frowns, turning towards you. “Is that true? I thought you were just agitated. Do you really think they put something in the wine?” 

“Who put what in the wine?” your father gapes. 

“I-It’s not like that,” you chuckle awkwardly. The last thing you want to do is unintentionally frame someone for drugging you. “I was just kidding. Um… but I really don’t feel well. It’s possible I might have caught a cold. Or maybe I just haven’t gotten enough sleep lately. I’m worried I might collapse.” 

What follows is quite possibly the biggest freakout you’ve ever seen, and honestly, it’s kind of fucking embarrassing. 

“Collapse?!” your father exclaims. “Good heavens! Then we must get you out of here as soon as possible! Everyone, move! Give my daughter some space!” 

He proceeds to pick you up into his arms, despite the flustered squeal you let out, and your mother isn’t any less dramatic, with all her nonstop desperate wailing. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, mortified beyond belief.

Please, just kill me now.

There goes your plan of trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. All of the guests clear the way and let you pass through, but you catch them whispering amongst themselves, and you’re willing to bet they’re not saying nice things about you. 

Oh, well. The villainess already had a bad reputation. You’d be a fool to expect that you could overwrite it so quickly. It’s just going to take some time. 

You really wish your parents would calm down, though. 

“Move, move, move! This is an emergency, goddammit! My daughter is barely clinging to consciousness!” 

“Uh, I’m still fine,” you protest. 

“She’s passing out quite literally as we speak!” 

You roll your eyes and let your body sag, utterly defeated. Seriously, what a family of drama queens. You can’t even blame the villainess for turning out the way she did. 

The only silver lining is that the evening is being cut short, and you don’t have to spend any more time with Flynn. You never imagined how stressful it would be to have someone scrutinizing your every move. 

“Is she going to be alright?” Flynn asks worriedly. Your father is in the process of hoisting your body up and lifting you into the carriage. “Would it be okay if I come along as well, Count [Last Name]? She’s given me a fright. I’d like to stay by her side, if possible.” 

Fuck no! Don’t do that! 

You’re just about to protest, but thankfully, your father interjects before you have to. 

“She is very ill, Flynn,” he mutters somberly. Which, again, is kind of ridiculous. All you said was that you were worried you might collapse, yet here he is, acting like you’ve just been diagnosed with a terminal disease. “Right now, she needs as much rest as possible, and time to recover. Our family physician will look after her. I’ll ask that you please give her space so she can properly regain her strength.” 

Flynn isn’t able to hide his disappointment, but nevertheless, he nods. 

“I understand, sir. In that case, I’ll keep her in my thoughts and wish her a swift recovery. Please let me know when she’s feeling better.” 

I know I jokingly asked to be killed earlier, but can people please stop acting like I’m going to die? 

You slump back into the cushioned seats inside the carriage and sigh heavily. This evening has been sufficiently exhausting, and in more ways than one. You wonder how you’ll be able to break off your friendship with Flynn. He seems rather attached to you, based on how worried he is, and you remember from the game that he vehemently defended the villainess’ actions at first, since they were such close friends.

Clearly, getting rid of him won’t be an easy feat, but in the interest of ensuring your safety, you’re going to have to make it happen. 

“Goodnight, [Name],” Flynn says. He smiles encouragingly. “You’ll be alright. Be sure to get as much rest as possible, and I’ll come visit you soon.” 

Unlike his smile, which appears genuine, yours is tight-lipped and forced. 

I would much rather you didn’t. 

“Mommy, can I have more apple juice?” 

You hug the blankets closer to your chest and make puppy eyes at your mother, who leans down to affectionately pat your head. 

“Of course you can, sweetie,” she beams. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch some for you right away.” 

Well, it’s the morning after your parents frantically brought you home, and spoiler alert: you didn’t die. 

You did, however, discover that your parents are even more whipped for you than you could ever have imagined. Which was kind of embarrassing last night, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re thankful. 

If something goes wrong and you desperately need help, you have a good feeling that they’ll stand by your side. 

Also, since they were so terrified last night, they’re pretty much giving you the princess treatment right now. You even got to eat breakfast in bed earlier. 

Your mother has been more suspicious of your strange behavior compared to your father, who takes it all in stride, but she seems to have mollified a bit. It’s probably because you’re acting like a spoiled baby right now, which is much more in line with the villainess’ demeanor. You make a mental note to be a bit more bratty from time to time. 

Flynn promised to visit you, but you told your parents that you still want to focus on your recovery, so he thankfully hasn’t stopped by yet. You’re going to try and keep him away for as long as possible, at least until you can figure out how to deal with him. 

Anyways, you’ve got the whole day to yourself. You don’t even have to do any more math problems for a while, since you’re supposedly so sick. Haha. 

You may not be a villainess, but you’re no saint, and you’ll take just about any opportunity to goof off. 

“Fiona, come along with me to the garden,” you gesture. “I want to stuff my face with pastries and drink yummy juice under the sun.” 

“My lady, shouldn’t you stay in bed?” she frets. “Your father made it very clear how ill you were… he said it was a miracle that you even made it through the night.” 

Bro. 

You roll your eyes and sip on your glass of apple juice. “He’s just exaggerating. I feel much better now. I’m just taking advantage of how much they’re spoiling me. Don’t tell them I said that, though.” 

“Oh,” she blinks, realization dawning on her. After a few moments, she smiles. “I see. In that case, I’ll accompany you and ensure that I see to your every need.”

You grin widely. 

“Thanks!” 

And so, you spend the better portion of your morning doing nothing in particular. Honestly, waking up in another person’s body out of nowhere is a much bigger deal than you’re making it out to be. Anyone else in your position would probably have had a mental breakdown at the start. 

But apart from the fear of the bad endings that the villainess faces in the games, you’d like to say you’re rather enjoying this new life of yours. Seriously, compared to being a struggling university student, drowning in homework and hefty loans, getting to eat delicious pastries while sitting comfortably in an extravagant garden really isn’t that bad. In many ways, it’s a massive improvement. 

It’s a grim thought, but you realize there’s very little about your old life that you actually liked. It felt like you were just going through the motions every day, devoid of any real passion or longing. Ever since your parents died, you fell into a bout of depression and pretty much shut everyone out. 

Being able to start over was surely a blessing in disguise, and all the more reason why you’re hellbent on protecting this new life. 

“[Name],” you mumble in a daze, the taste of sugar lingering on your tongue. You stare up at the clear blue sky and smile. It isn’t the same name you grew up with, but from now on, it is your name, and you’re going to wear it proudly. 

You hum, popping another pastry into your mouth. You could probably afford to hold back a bit, otherwise you really will get sick this time, but whatever. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re feeling great, and it’s so nice and peaceful right now—

Hm? 

A carriage has just pulled up to the manor. You watched it roll in from your vantage point in the garden, so naturally, your curiosity got the better of you and you started walking over.

Fiona scrunches up her brows. “My, who could it be? I didn’t think we were expecting any visitors today.” 

You shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m usually the last to hear about these things.” 

Both of you stare at each other, visibly perplexed, but it turns out that your questions are soon answered, because the carriage door opens, and a man disembarks. 

And of course, that man is…

…actually, who is he supposed to be? 

You don’t have the slightest clue. He has black hair and rather piercing blue eyes, which you can make out even from a good distance away. He’s dressed in elegant clothes, so he’s clearly a noble. You suppose he must be one of your parents’ acquaintances or something. They probably know a whole bunch of people.

For some reason, though, it feels like you should know who this man is. There’s this weird sense of déjà vu you’re getting, and it’s like an itch in your brain that you just can’t seem to scratch. 

It isn’t until you’re staring him face to face that it finally clicks. 

“Ah!” 

Rowan Calderwood. That’s what his name is. He made a few very brief appearances in the game, only in about two or three scenes, but you remember now that he’s supposed to be Alistair’s cousin. 

Also, if you recall correctly, they’re not on especially good terms, but aren’t too familiar with all the details.

But that’s beside the point. What is he even doing here? 

Rowan tilts his head. “Pardon me. Is there something on my face? You looked rather shocked for a moment, and even exclaimed quite loudly.” 

You clamp your lips shut. Right. As far as you know, the villainess and Rowan never actually met in the game, which means he’s probably just seeing you for the very first time. It’d be better to pretend like you don’t know who he is. 

“No reason in particular,” you shrug. “I just thought you were a trespasser for a moment, that’s all.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen, but rather than looking offended, he just looks amused. He’s not technically trespassing, but if what Fiona said is true, then he must have showed up without an invitation, which is considered to be quite rude.

“Please forgive me if I gave you a fright,” Rowan says, then he bows deeply, only to lift his head after a few moments and smile. “I take it you must be [Name]. You’re even more beautiful than I had imagined. My name is Rowan Calderwood. It’s a pleasure to finally be meeting you.” 

You wish you could say the feeling was mutual, but he interrupted your pastry-eating session, and you didn’t even get to finish the fresh glass of apple juice Fiona had just poured you.

Plus, he’s related to Alistair. Is he here to try and convince you to restore the engagement? Because no way in hell is that happening. 

“I have no intention of taking Alistair back,” you state matter-of-factly, crossing your arms at him. “You share the same last name, so I presume you’re related to him in some capacity. I thought I should make my feelings clear from the start, so that you don’t waste any more of your time.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen for the second time, and once again, he doesn’t look offended, or even appalled. 

If anything, he looks delighted. 

“How amusing,” he chuckles. “It seems you’re even better than I had hoped for.” 

Uh…? 

Rowan shakes his head. “Rest assured, my lady, that isn’t what I came here to say. Admittedly, I’d heard that your engagement with my cousin fell through, but I haven’t made the trip here on his behalf. I came for purely selfish purposes, I must admit.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and relief fills your chest. “Well, that’s good. I meant the part about you not trying to convince me to take Alistair back, not the part about you being selfish, just to be clear.” 

“Right,” he muses. “I had a feeling that’s what you meant.”

This bastard just keeps smiling for some reason. What’s so funny? Granted, you know you can be hilarious at times, but you’ve been nothing but stoic thus far. Yet he acts like he’s having the time of his goddamn life. 

Wait a second… 

There’s a theory forming in your mind, and honestly, you’re not sure you like the thought of it all that much. 

Fortunately, Fiona has your back. 

“P-Pardon me, Lord Calderwood,” she nervously pipes in. “Might I ask if you have an appointment? Count [Last Name] made it very clear that there were to be no visitors today. My lady fell ill last night, and she’s been taking the day to recover all her strength.” 

“I was super sick,” you nod. “My father said it’s a miracle I even made it through the night.” 

Rowan frowns, which isn’t too surprising, considering you look healthy as a horse and you were stuffing your face with pastries up until a few moments ago. 

He clears his throat. “Oh my. Apologies. I wasn’t aware that you weren’t feeling well last night. You look so stunning and radiant that I couldn’t possibly imagine you’d been battling sickness as of late.”

“Yes, well, I just so happen to be gorgeous, but it’s true that I’m taking the day off to recover. Also, please make an appointment if you plan to visit again in the future. No one was expecting you to show up,” you say, sternly enough that you hope he takes the hint. 

Honestly, he probably realizes he’s being rude, but it seems like he just doesn’t care. 

“I had hoped for it to be a surprise,” he smiles. “I was so excited to meet you that I must have forgotten my manners. I also wasn’t sure when your parents would accept my request to meet, given that things are rather strained between our families right now. Well, Alistair’s side of the family, at least.” 

You arch a brow. “So, you thought it would be better to show up without warning and take it from there?” 

“I’m guilty of being a touch eccentric at times. Especially when someone as beautiful and charming as yourself is involved,” he adds flirtatiously. 

“How did you know I was beautiful? We literally just met.” 

“I had heard the rumors, of course. You’re hailed far and wide as the most breathtaking, desirable lady in all the land.” 

Desirable? Are we talking about the same rotten villainess with the personality of a stinky tomato? Now I know this is all BS. 

Still, it’s getting clearer by the second where he’s headed with this. You’ve long since connected the dots.

Rowan’s smile has yet to disappear, and he crosses a hand over his chest before bowing once more. 

“It shames me to admit this, but… ever since I heard that you and Alistair were no longer engaged, I simply couldn’t hold back any longer.” 

Oh, boy. This is actually happening.

“I was hoping to speak to your father first and foremost and make my intentions clear, but I happened to stumble upon you, and now, I’d like to say what’s on my mind.” 

“Uh, you really don’t have to,” you insist. “Like, seriously—” 

“[Name],” Rowan breathes, and you watch, horrified, as he gets down on one knee and takes your hand in his. “Would you… grant me the honor of marrying you?” 

More chapters are available on Quotev!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

🗡️ main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

[enbypotat53]

Y'know when you've just woken up and you sorta feel like

Yeah...

(Also have my cat because I mentioned him in the tags and he's goddamn adorable)

[rizzmin]

enough shitting around for today, time to rot now :3

[the-secret-formulaone]

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

[moonstruckme]

hi i have an unhealthy attachment to your doctor!remus content…could i request a fic where reader is hiding some type of health problem from him or maybe ignoring it, and when something bad happens he finds out and is all stern with her and his usual worried self? i <3 this man, thank you truly for sharing your writing and doing it so well!!

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: description of vertigo, mention of nausea

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re sick of being miserable. You had a cold, which had turned out to be the flu, which had turned into a sinus infection, and your poor, sweet boyfriend had weathered it all with you. Remus had made you soup. He’d warmed damp towels for your sinuses. He’d stayed home from work a couple of days, and rubbed your back, and your chest, and your temples when they ached, and supplied you with name-brand medicines. He’d been so, so patient when you were whiny and awful to be around. So now, when your sinus infection has turned into this heinous ear pain, you’ve decided you’re done with it. 

You won’t entertain your body with its miseries any more. You certainly won’t be making it Remus’ problem. 

It’s easy not to feel miserable when you wake up before him on a slow Saturday morning. There’s a line of sunlight reaching across the room from the crack in your curtains, Remus’ face lovely even in shadow. He could use a haircut, you think fondly. It’s starting to cover the tops of his ears, which you think is a rather endearing look on him even if you have to agree when he says it’s not very professional. 

Eventually his eyes blink open. He smiles when he finds you watching him, the stretch of his lips sleepy and content. You draw a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose. 

“I think,” you say, “that we should stay here all day long.” 

Remus’ smile widens, and it takes half a second after his mouth begins moving for you to realize you can’t hear him properly. You pick your good ear up off the pillow as subtly as you can, propping your chin on your hand. You ignore the wave of dizziness that follows. 

“...what you really want? You’ve been home nearly all week,” says Remus. “What if we went on a walk today? We could go to that park you like, the one with the lake.” 

You shove down the dread that rises in your chest. This is what you want. You want to get over being poorly and get back to your life. 

“You’re right,” you say brightly. “That sounds great.” 

Remus peers over you to check the time. “Oh. God, we slept in, didn’t we? We may have to go soon if we want it to still be nice out.” 

“That’s alright,” you say easily. “I’ll be right after you, I just have to pick out what I’m going to wear.” 

Remus leans forward to peck you on the forehead, getting out of bed with a sleepy groan. He stretches his neck this way and that, movements sluggish as he goes toward the bathroom. 

Your movements are sluggish for different reasons. You sit up slowly, fighting through the vertigo that sloshes the room about you in protest. It wasn’t this bad yesterday. 

You discover a series of new miseries as you get dressed with cautious, snail-like movements. Your ear hurts something awful. More than that, the pain has spread to most of your head. The constant dizziness quickly results in a low nausea. You’re genuinely uncertain whether the ringing in your ears is a symptom of your ear infection or a warning bell of your impending insanity. 

Putting on your trousers is an ordeal. By the time you sit down on the bed to pull on socks, your resolve has spiderweb cracks spreading and threatening to unleash a meltdown. 

But you’re stubborn. You can do this, you think. If you’re only walking on even ground in the park, and Remus’ hand is in yours, you’re sure you can manage. The internet said your symptoms wouldn’t last long anyway—maybe they’ll clear up as the day goes on. 

“...ove? Dove?” 

You look up as Remus comes to stand in front of you, swallowing when the world spins. In the center of the swirl, you think he’s smiling. His hand cups your face. 

“You seemed off in your own world there,” he says fondly. 

You smile and hum, keeping your head perfectly still so that the spinning slows. Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm, yeah.” You cup your hand over his, holding onto it as you stand. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re ready?” he asks while you pull him towards the door. You sway a bit in your effort to walk at a normal pace, reaching for the doorframe. 

The hallway in front of you looks like a funhouse horror. You put one foot in front of the other as surely as you can. “Yeah,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

Remus’ hand tightens on yours. You don’t understand why for a moment, but then you’re falling sideways, his hands catching you around the waist. 

“Dove.” His stern voice is slightly alarmed and largely disembodied, your eyes unable to find his face in the whirling mass in front of you. “What’s going on?” 

Like an overinflated balloon popping, you burst into tears. 

Remus collects you to his chest, holding your head securely against him as he half carries you back to the bed. It doesn’t prevent your dizziness entirely, but it helps. 

“What’s happening?” he asks more gently as you sniff and whimper. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.” 

“I think it’s an ear infection,” you say in a small voice. “It hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m so—” You take in a short breath. “—so dizzy I feel sick.” 

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright.” Remus pets the back of your head, shushing you until you calm some. 

“Sorry,” you whimper. 

“What are you sorry for, love? For crying?” 

Your sniffly silence is answer enough. 

Remus sighs. “Why did you try to act like nothing was wrong?” 

“Because,” you say thinly, “I’m tired of things being wrong. I just want—” You pause, pressing your lips together to avoid crying again. “I want to feel normal.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your boyfriend’s mix of disappointment and sympathy only brings you closer to tears. “You can’t will it, my love. And you can’t pretend this away. These are the sorts of things I need to know about.” 

You blink away the blur of tears, grateful that your world has finally straightened out. You press your head closer to Remus’ chest. “I wanted to give you a break, too,” you admit. “The internet said it would go away in a couple of days, so I figured I’d just ride it out.” 

“Mm, a middle ear infection would.” 

You stiffen. “What does that mean?” 

The kiss Remus drops to your head is heavy with compassion. “Vertigo like this comes with an inner ear infection, dove. They take longer to go away, sometimes weeks, but the process can be sped up with antibiotics.” 

He pauses while you process this. 

“You know, the sort prescribed by a doctor.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckles fondly, kissing your head again. “This is why you tell me things. Understand?” 

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around his middle, clinging pathetically. “I’m sorry. Help me.” 

“I will, sweetheart. Think you can lay down and be still while I nip to work and the pharmacy?” 

You don’t think you’ll have any problems there.

[ariascoven]

⟡ INSOMNIA PILLS

PAIRING : agatha harkness x reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS : established relationship, agatha is reader’s wife. gender neutral reader. pure fluff. whiny agatha.

WORD COUNT : 732

MY MASTERLIST | REQUESTED

You were sleeping peacefully, having the same nonsense dreams as always — for some reason, the Gods above decided that you would never have a coherent dream in your life. That is, until Agatha’s shuffling and groaning awakened you. You squinted your eyes and looked out the window, groaning when you saw nothing but pure darkness, the stars sparkling faintly. You turned your head to glance at the bedside clock, marking 2am. Agatha let out an annoyed grunt that almost made her sound like a spoiled child rather than a powerful, centuries old witch. You sat up slowly, rubbing your dizzy head. “Is something wrong, my love?” You were still half asleep, the simple task of speaking becoming a nightmare as your words slurred out in an almost incoherent blabber. Your wife turned around to face you, a childish pout lingering on her lips and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Can't sleep, honey?” She nodded, her expression softening slightly at the concern and affection in your voice. “Come here.”

You shuffled in bed, sitting against the headboard and getting comfortable, arms opening wide in invitation and leaving no room for an answer. Agatha accepted the offer without a second thought, snuggling against you like you're her own personal pillow — not that it wasn't true. Her arms snaked around you to keep you close as she laid her head on your chest, her dark hair tickling your neck. She whined, making you giggle. “What?” She said grumpily, moving her head to glance up at you, that adorable pout still on her lips. You couldn't resist the temptation, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. You felt the annoyance slipping away from her body with a contented sigh the second your lips touched. You pulled back to look into her eyes, causing her to smile. You gently made her lay back down on your chest, your fingers combing through her thick hair softly as you hummed a calming tune, watching as she closed her eyes. Your lips joined the fingers that were tangled in her hair, peppering the top of her head with kisses, your free hand rubbing her arms soothingly.

Feeling your lover’s heartbeat, you smiled as she snuggled even closer to you, seeking the affection and comfort that only you could provide. Your legs were entangled with hers and you noticed her feet were cold — stubborn the way that she is, Agatha refused to put on socks before bed, even though you practically begged her to, saying the air was getting cold and you didn't want her to get sick. ‘I’m a witch, I’ll be fine. Agatha Harkness doesn't need socks,’ she claimed. The woman drove you crazy with her tantrums, but you loved her dearly. And she loved you, too. You knew it. And so did everyone that spent 5 minutes watching the way she treated you and acted around you. Her caring and affectionate side was reserved to you only, and you would be lying if you said you didn't like that. Even though you often had to reprimand her like a toddler when she acted up in public by starting an argument with a stranger or giving weird looks to random people on the street, your heart grew oddly warm knowing you were the only person that she would actually listen to. Sharon Davis — also known as Mrs. Hart, the name Agatha refused to stop calling her — told the witch to ‘stop staring, it's rude!’ once, which ended up in Agatha ruining the poor lady’s garden. Of course, you made her fix it.

“I love you.” Agatha muttered groggily before drifting off to sleep on top of you. You don't know exactly how much time you spent just admiring your sleeping wife’s features that night, giggling at the way she looked grumpy even as she snored peacefully. You waited to make sure that Agatha was in a deep sleep and there were no risks of accidentally waking her up and unleashing a tired, angry beast before reaching your arm out to turn off the lamp you don't even remember turning on. Probably did that when you were still half asleep, you think, shrugging it off. You found a bit of difficulty to lay back down with the weight of Agatha’s body on top of you, but you managed. You hugged her tightly before whispering in her ear. “Thank you for being mine.”

[orcasoul]

Not My Man

Summary: Joel is accused of abusing you, and, oh hell no! You're having none of that!

Warnings: Swearing, injury, implied domestic abuse, use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4,132

"Ow, shit! That really stings." You wince and pull your head back as Joel lightly dabs a alcohol soaked cloth over your cheek. His hand slides behind your head pulling you back in, keeping you in place. "Quit squirming and it'll be done quicker," he tells you firmly yet softly, his big chestnut eyes fixed intently on the task at hand. You grudgingly obey, - keeping still despite the the burn of the alcohol seeping into the raw cut across your cheek - holding an ice pack over your eye on the opposite side. You just know it'll be black by tomorrow.

"How's the head? Feeling dizzy or sick at all?" It's the millionth time Joel has asked you this, and every time you have to reassure him. "I'm okay, Joel. Really," you stressed, but you can see the guilt and anger simmering within him flicker to the surface every time you try to make light of it all. "I shouldn't have let you go off alone. Fucking hell... if I'd been just a few seconds later you'd be-" Joel closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, both to calm his nerves and to avoid having to finish that sentence. Just the thought of losing you makes Joel want to rip his hair out in vexation.

"It's my fault," you try to reason, cupping Joels' scruffy cheek and forcing his eyes to meet yours. "I should have been paying closer attention. Don't you dare go blaming yourself." "You're never leaving my sight again," Joel declared, his voice low and determined. "Joel-" "I mean it Y/N! From now on when we're outside these walls I'm gonna be on your ass like your shadow!" You sigh, knowing there's no getting to through to Joel when he gets like this. So, you silently concede with a nod, mostly for his peace of mind.

After applying some antiseptic cream and a large plaster, Joel leans in to press a featherlight kiss over the sensitive gash and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "I could have lost you today, sweetheart." The ache in his voice stirred a deep ache in your chest in return. You place your hands over his own, which are now cradling your face. "But you didn't, and that's all that matters." It crushes your heart to see Joel so torn up over something no one could have seen coming, over something he couldn't have known.

But, here he is again; blaming himself for circumstances beyond his control. All you can do is comfort him and try to make him focus on the here and now and not on the "what could have been". Easier said that done, though when your mind keeps replaying that dreadful encounter. You could kick yourself for letting your guard down.

You and Joel had started to take Ellie out to prepare her for patrol duty, now that she'd turned 18. A small town about 5 miles west of Jackson seemed like the best option, given that the place mostly remained infected free at this time of year. Most of the wooden houses had collapsed in on themselves over the past two decades. Only brick buildings had survived the ravages of time and the elements, and even some of them looked to be on their last legs. Once it appeared the three of you were alone you'd proposed you split up to inspect the last few unchecked buildings, just to get it over with ASAP. The sooner you were all done, the sooner you could all get home and stop freezing your asses off out here.

Joel, of course, objected immediately but you brushed off his concern, insisting it was safe enough. Famous last words! While Joel and Ellie searched an old bank building, you'd turned you attention to a restaurant next door. You entered slowly, gun raised in front of you, head turning in every direction, ears pricked for any indication of company. The crunch of broken glass underfoot was deafening in the eerie silence.

As the moments wore on, you began to feel less tense, there being no signs of raiders or loners passing through, and if there were any infected in here, surely they'd have heard the scraping of glass as you'd entered. A thorough scan of the dining and kitchen area revealed no danger, luling you into a false sense of security. You absentmindedly lower your gun as you make your way to back room, which you assumed was an office. All you could think about was the hot bath awaiting you later on as you opened the door and walked through.

It all happened so fast after that. A ear splitting scream echoed through the room and before you could even turn to face it, you are tackled from behind, both yourself and the rotting corpse on your back tumbling over a desk and landing with a hard thud on the floor. The impact of your head hitting the ground sent the room spinning around you, but even through the haze, your body reacted instinctively, pushing the furious creature away from you by it's shoulders. It's putrid breath and brown teeth almost made you gag as you fought desperately to keep it's searching fungal tentacles away from your face.

You let out the loudest scream you possibly could, hoping Joel and Ellie would hear. Your gun had gotten lost during the skirmish so all you had to rely on right now was your own strength, which was waning by the second. Just when you felt like you couldn't hold out any longer a gunshot split the air and the infected fell to the side of you in a heap. Through the ringing in your ears you could hear Joel's frantic voice calling your name, his hands grabbing and pulling at you, checking you over for bites. "Holy shit! Is she alright? Is she bit?" Ellie asked breathlessly from over Joel's shoulder. "No, no... she's not bit. She's fine," Joel sighed in relief.

The fog in your head cleared, bringing you back to yourself and that's when you noticed how much your body hurt. A dull ache settled in your ribs where you'd landed, your head felt like it would explode at any moment and your cheek and opposite eye socket throbbed continuously. A warm, tickling sensation ghosted along your cheek. When you pulled your fingers away they were red and sticky. You can't even remember hitting your face on anything in all the commotion. "Joel..." you whimper, body trembling from fear and adrenaline. Before you could say another word, Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest in a crushing bear hug, a chorus of "You're safe, sweetheart" and "I've got you" repeating over and over.

You're snapped from the memory by Joel's weary sigh. "It's my job to protect you and I nearly failed... again." You're heart sank on his last word, knowing exactly what he meant by "again". Pulling back, you gently cup Joel's face in both hands, staring compassionately into his tormented eyes.

"Don't do that, honey. Please. It was my fault." you asserted, shaking your head. "I suggested we split up, I let my guard down. That's on me." Joel released a small, humourless laugh, clearly not about to relinquish any of the blame and it guts you; to see what your carelessness has caused. "But do you know what's all on you?" you ask, your tone softening. Joel shot you a quizzical look. You wave a hand over the front of your body, Joel's gaze following your gesture.

"Me... here, alive and well. You saved my life today. If it wasn't for you I'd be dead... or worse," you shudder at the thought. "So, you see, you didn't almost fail. You saved me and I love you for it." Joel exhaled long and slow, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Joel lifted his hand to caress the back of your head and pulled you towards his face. His soft lips pressed against yours in a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you too, sweetheart, so damn much!"

The next morning as you, Joel and Ellie made your way towards the mess hall for breakfast, you can't help but notice the stares from passers-by. You were right about the black eye; the deep purple hue had bloomed overnight, the swelling causing your eyelid to slightly droop and a few bruises decorated your jaw. Even the area surrounding the bandage on your cheek was flushed red. You must be quite the spectacle right now. After collecting your food, the three of you joined Tommy and Maria at their table, as you do every morning, but this morning something felt... off.

A few times you could have sworn you'd heard yours and Joel's names mentioned in hushed tones, heads turning away from you quickly as you glance around. Joel and Tommy, being so deep in conversation, remained oblivious to the odd atmosphere, and Ellie was too busy shovelling food in her mouth - like it was her last ever meal - to pay attention to her surroundings. Maria, however picked up on your unease, also noticing the excessive looks and whispers in the hall. She looked to you, eyebrows raised in silent question, to which, you could only shrug in response.

Once you had finished your meal, you got up to take your tray to the used area, setting it down on the pile. Just as you turned to walk away you hear your name being called by Millie - one of the serving ladies. With her short, dumpy stature and short grey hair, she gave off the classic warm granny vibe. She's also a renowned gossip around town. "Are you okay, dear?" she asked in a breathy whisper. "Um... yeah?" You weren't really sure what she meant at first. When you noticed her concerned eyes darting all over your face you suddenly remember how ghastly you look. "Oh this..." you wave at your face, casually. "I got jumped by an infected yesterday. Knocked my face pretty bad but I'll be fine."

Millie didn't answer for a few seconds, her eyes flicking to your table, then back to you. "Are you sure?" she finally spoke, even quieter than before. "Of course." you tilt your head, wondering why she's acting so weird. "It's just..." Millie bit her bottom lip, nervously. "If you need someone to-" "Millie? Can you help me out in her for a minute?" came a shout from the kitchen. "I've got to go. You take care," she smiled sympathetically before rushing off into the kitchen, leaving you bewildered. "What the hell was that?" you muttered under your breath before returning to your seat.

Later that afternoon you were alone in the house when you heard a knock on the door. Maria stood on the other side, and one look at her face told you this isn't a social call. "Hi, can I speak to you?" she asked. "Sure, come in." You opened the door fully and stood aside, allowing her in. "Is everything okay?" you asked sitting on the settee opposite her. "Maybe I should be asking you that." "What?" Maria cleared her throat and shifted, uncomfortably. "Is... everything okay... between you and Joel?" "What do you mean? Why would there be something wrong?" you queried, taken aback at such an abrupt question.

"Look, if you don't feel safe enough to talk about it-" "Talk about what? What exactly are you insinuating?" You don't like how this sounds one little bit, but you want to hear her say it before you possibly jump to conclusions. Maria sat forward, looking you dead in the eye. "Y/N... did Joel do this to you?" There it is; what you were hoping she wasn't going to say. "Of course he fucking didn't!" You sprang to your feet, fists clenched at your sides. "You know what happened. I reported it yesterday when we got back!" "I know but-" "How could you even think Joel would do such a thing!" Maria raised her hands in a show of surrender.

"I'm sorry. It's just I heard he might have been... hurting you and as a member of the council I had to investigate. I'm also your friend," she continued, "and I just had be be sure." You can feel the blood in your veins boiling as the seconds tick by. "Who the hell has been spreading bullshit like that?!" "There have been rumours going around-" "Rumours!" you scoff. "And you believed them?" Maria stood up slowly, counteracting your indignation with calmness. "I'm not saying I believe them-" "It's obvious you do or why would you be here?"

"I just needed to know. We both know that Joel can be volitile-" "Oh trust me, I know how Joel can be. I travelled across the country with him, remember. I know what he's capable of and I also know what he would NEVER do! He'd never hurt anyone he loves. Your head is now throbbing from the anger bubbling under your skin, but you just can't stop yourself. "He's never laid a finger on me or Ellie and I won't have anyone spreading vicious lies like that!' "He's killed innocent people before. How can you be sure one day he won't-" That's fucking it, the last straw!

"Do you trust Tommy?! Do you fear what he might do one day?" you throw back at her, sarcastically. "Because Tommy killed innocent people too, or have you conveniently forgotten that?" Maria's demeanour hardened slightly at your judgement of her husband. Good. Now she knows how it feels. "Tommy was just following Joel's lead." "Oh don't give me that bullshit!" you snapped in frustration. "He's a grown ass man capable of making his own decisions, and he chose to do that. You can't keep making excuses for him, but still hold it against Joel." Maria remained silent, seeming to realise the truth of your words. You inhale a calming breath before continuing.

"Maria, you've got to let go of this constant animosity you feel for Joel. Yes, he's made some wrong choices in the past, but he's not that man anymore... just like Tommy isn't. And wether you like it or not he's your family now. If not for Joel's sake, do it for Tommy's. Joel means the world to him and you know it." After a few tense seconds Maria nodded slowly, looking slightly abashed. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. As a council member it's my job to keep the peace in Jackson, so I had to ask..." she steps closer to you, taking your hand in hers.

"As your friend, I believe you. I can see how much you love Joel. No one would be so fiercely protective over someone who hurt them." Your shoulders sag as the tension drains away. "Thank you." "You also make a fair point," Maria says. "It's true I've never been Joels biggest fan, and maybe I have been a bit harsh on him," she rubbed the back of her neck, awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I'll try to... make things right with him, I promise." You squeeze her hand back. "That's all I ask."

"So, we'll see you tomorrow for breakfast?" The sincerity and hope in her voice, softened you up a bit. "Sure, see you then," you smiled at her. Maria began to walk towards the door but stopped when you called her name. "If you hear anymore gossip-" "I'll be sure to set the record straight," She interjected. "Thank you." When the door closed and you were alone once again, you slumped back down into the settee, leaning your head over the back, bringing your hands to your face in exasperation.

The weak winter sun began to dip behind the mountains, casting looming shadows in the streets of Jackson. Joel was due home from maintenance duty any minute, so you put the kettle on to make him a cup of coffee before you head out together for dinner at the mess hall. Worry had been plaguing you all afternoon. You just hope word of these rumours hasn't reached joel's ears. As Joel entered the house - tired but otherwise in good spirits - you felt your worry settle, knowing he's none the wiser or he would have, rightfully, been a murderous mood.

The last thing you want is for Joel to have to deal with hearsay from sad busybodies with nothing better to do with their lives. If you can discreetly nip this in the bud without Joel having to know, that would be for the best. Joel sauntered into the living room after kicking his boots off, sitting down with a groan. Even though his back ached and knees creaked, he relished in the deep satisfaction that came at the end of a hard day's work. He never though he'd have the opportunity to live a normal ( well, as close to normal as you can get) life again.

Instead of smuggling and scraping to get by on a day to day basis, he now has the chance to do something honest and meaningful, and he'll never take that for granted again. "Hey honey," you greeted joel as you sat next to him, handing him his favourite tawny owl mug. "Thanks, darlin'," he smiled and kissed your forehead. You watched as he closed his eyes, savouring the rich flavour of coffee as he swallowed. "You look tired," your voice was a gentle whisper as you ran your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, knowing how it soothes him. "I'm okay," he said, stifling a yawn.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Joel gently brushed your hair behind your ear, examining your your face. "I'm fine. The swelling's actually starting to go down now." Joel smiled, relieved. He still blames himself for what happened but any indication that you're recovering is music to his ears. "MOTHER FUCKING ASSHOLES!" You both jumped half a mile in the air as Ellie barged through the front door, slamming it so hard behind her the whole thing rattled. "Whoa, whoa, easy. What happened?!"

Joel rushed over to Ellie, his shoulders tensing and fists balling. You've seen that posture many times on the journey here. A posture that screams "I will kill anyone who hurt you". "Stupid people running their fucking mouths. That's what fucking happened!" Ellie seethed as she ripped her jacket off and flung it on the floor. Oh god, Ellie. Please don't! "What the hell ya goin' on about?" Joel drawled, his Texan accent thickening as it always does when he's upset. "Oh you didn't hear? Well, you would have soon enough. People have been going around saying you gave Y/N those bruises."

"What the fuck?!" Joel roared, the muscles in his shoulders and arms visibly straining as anger flooded his body. Joel looked back to you, a mixture of disbelief and fury contorting his features. You dash over to him, resting a hand on his arm in support. "Joel, please ca-" "What the hell is wrong with people!" he continued to rant looking between you and Ellie. He felt sick to his stomach that anyone would even entertain the idea the he would hurt you. "I'll fucking kill whoever said that," he mumbled in an ominously dangerous tone as he began pacing back and forth. "I'll rip their goddamn tongues out for them. I'll make sure-"

"Joel!" Reaching out, you grab both of his shoulders, forcing him to stop and snap out of this manic descent he had slipped into. When his eyes landed on yours, the darkness swirling within them, melted away, replaced with a devastation that almost made you cry. Joel brought his hands to cup your face. "Darlin', you know I'd never do that." "You don't have to tell me that, honey." Joel brushed a thumb over your cheek, sighing and shaking his head. "Did you know?" You nod, pressing your lips together in a thin line. "Yeah. I was hoping to put an end to it without you having to know."

"What do you mean?" Joel asked, his brow furrowing. "Maria came by earlier..." Joels face slid into a cold stare. "Of course she did," he huffed with disdain. "Oh don't worry, honey. I had a few choice words for her. I told her, well, practically screamed at her that you'd never do such a thing. And if she hears anymore talk, to shut it down." "Even when the world goes to shit, people still love a gossip," Joel spat the last word out like it was a bad taste on his tongue. "So, did she believe any of it?" he asked, his expression hardening once more.

"I think at first she did." Joel rolled his eyes. "But after I corrected her," - you emphasized the word corrected - "She believed me." Joel huffed with scepticism. "Joel, I don't want you to worry about this okay. I'll take care of it." "We both will!" Ellie, who'd been watching the whole exchange in silent anger, piped up. "We're not gonna let them drag your name through the mud. I'll make them fucking eat it first!" You couldn't help but chuckle at Ellie's choice of words.

"Ellie, as much as I would love to see that... and help you, we can't just go around roughing people up. There's rules here for a reason, unfortunately," you muttered the last part under your breath. "So... what? We just sit back and let them slander Joel!" Ellie threw her hands in the air in irritation. "Absolutely not!" you retorted, determination settling into your voice." We show them just how wrong they are." Joel placed his hands on his hips, a typical stance for him when he's stressed. "And how exactly do we do that?" he asked, sounding defeated.

"By presenting a united front. We make them see how strong and happy we are, all of us..." You look to Ellie, then back to Joel. "We show them there's nothing to hide or be ashamed of, and then they'll have nothing to yap about." Taking Joel's hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. "And if I hear just one more person bad mouthing you, I'll make sure they regret it." Joel's face softend into a grateful smile. He's not convinced he's worth such loyalty and devotion, but he can't deny the warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of his girls so eager to defend him. It's an odd feeling for him, as he's used to being the protector. He could secretly get used to this.

"It'll be okay. I promise," you say, not letting go of Joel's hand. "We've got your back, old man." Ellie slapped Joel on the back, drawing a chuckle from him. "Not that old, you little shit," he replied in mock offense. "Now... let's go," You moved to grab your coat and boots. "The mess hall is open and I'm starving."

On the way to dinner, you found yourself paying close attention to everyone you passed, noticing a few side eye glances and disapproving looks. And every time, you pulled Joel's arm further around your shoulder and nestled closer into his side, a silent sign to the doubters that you feel no fear or discomfort in his embrace, as you would expect from an abused victim. Dinner wasn't as bad as you were expecting. Maybe Maria's influence with the townsfolk is to thank for that.

However a few inevitable glimpses were thrown in your direction. A middle aged couple made the mistake of allowing their eyes to linger on you for too long as they passed your table and you just couldn't let that slide. "Something you want to say to us?" you narrowed your eyes at them, daring them to open their mouths. Joel's arm snaked it's way around your waist, his jaw ticking as he too, stared them down. The woman's colour left her puffy face, while her husband forced a placating smile.

"Um... uh no, no." You smiled smugly at the alarm the old man was trying and failing to keep from his voice. "Good. keep it that way," Joel growled. The nervous couple looked at one another and hurried on by. Ellie smirked, "Fuck yeah, man! That's how it's done." "Damn right," you agreed, triumphantly. You could feel Joel's whole body relax around you and you gave him a "we've got this" look.

It may take longer than you'd like for all this nonsense to die down, but no matter how long it takes, you'll prove Joel's innocence, one way or another. You remember a saying from "Before"; "it's not all men", and if it's the last thing you do, you're going to make damn sure everyone knows it's certainly not your man!

[tvgirlie24]

Not Enough pt.2

After that gruesome training session Alexia desperately tries to fix things between the two of you, you’re having none of it.

Angst (some fluff?)

part 1

The first thing that you felt upon regaining consciousness was an unbearable headache. You didn't think you've ever experienced anything like this. You were uncomfortable, in pain and overall just really confused. The last thing you could remember was someone telling you to keep your eyes open everything else was pretty much a haze. You've made the mistake of trying to open your eyes now, but you were immediately blinded by the intense light of the room and quickly closed them again. The rest of your senses were slowly coming back as well, as you could hear someone quietly talking close to you. There were more voices as well, but you couldn't quite tell who it was. You tried moving your arm as you could feel a needle poking your skin but the second you moved someone held your arm down.

"You're awake! Oh, thank god, you had us scared for a second." Ingrid? Again? Not that you expected anyone else really but even Ingrid being here with you was surprising enough. Despite knowing that she stood up for you yesterday it still didn't make sense why all of a sudden she was so interested in providing you support. Maybe she felt sorry for you?

"Uhh, what the fuck?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

"You passed out, like an hour ago, we were starting to consider taking you to the hospital if you didn't wake up. Do you not remember?"

"I just remember feeling really dizzy and that’s pretty much it."

"You should've said something if you didn't feel well you know, that was pretty irresponsible, you could've hurt yourself." Whilst you knew Ingrid’s scolding came from a place of worry you really didn’t appreciate her words right now. As if it was your fault. Partially yes, but no one stepped in when Alexia was taking it too far. No one stood up for you, and you were at fault? 

“As if me saying I didn’t feel good would’ve done anything.” You murmured and Ingrid gave you a sympathetic look. 

You slowly sat up, with the help of Ingrid and looked around. A physio was next to you, checking your vitals and on the other side of the room was the last person you wanted to see right now. Alexia, looking all guilty and it seemed as though she wanted to say something but kept changing her mind at the last minute. 

You got tired of waiting after she opened and closed her mouth for the fourth time. “What do you want?” You snapped.

“I, uh, I just-, I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mean to take it so far. I didn’t know you felt sick, If I did I-“ 

“You would have done the exact same thing, we both know that.” You interrupted, not really interested in hearing any of her excuses.

“What? No! No, really-“

“Are you sure? You’re saying that if I came up to you and said I’m not feeling well, you wouldn’t have told me that I’m just slacking off?” You asked, though you already knew what the answer would be. 

Nothing, no response. Just as you thought.

“Thought so. I really don’t understand what your problem is. I would understand if you just had some doubts about me, everyone does, I’m used to it. But you have absolutely no reason to hate me and I’m really fucking tired of it. I do everything that I can and yet you always have something to complain about. I’ve had enough of this, I don’t want to do this anymore. I fucking heard you yesterday. I know you think I don’t belong here, I know you think I’m not good enough, but fuck you didn’t even give me an actual chance and I’m sick of it. I don’t fucking deserve this.” You didn’t even realize that tears were streaming down your face or that with each sentence you voice kept getting louder and louder until you were practically screaming in her face but you didn’t care. It felt nice to let it out, all of the frustration you have felt for the past couple of weeks. She kept taking her frustration out on you, now it was you turn. 

She was about to say something but you had no interest in hearing what she was about to say. Whatever she was about to tell you would never warrant her behavior towards you. 

“No, I’m not doing this right now, I’m leaving.“ You stood up abruptly and felt yourself get dizzy again, Alexia reached out her arms to steady you but you quickly steadied yourself and walked past her to the physio. 

“Get it out.” You said while giving him your arm, where an IV was administered, but the physio didn’t move and just looked hesitantly at you.

“Get it out or I’m going to rip it out of my arm myself, I don’t care, your way or my way, you choose.” You barked out. You knew you were being unfair, and unnecessarily mean, the man didn’t do anything to you. But you were so angry with the whole world right now that you couldn’t care less about who was on the receiving end of your outburst. You needed to get it out and most importantly you needed to leave, if being harsh meant you could get out of there sooner then you had no problem being a bitch. For once you just didn’t care. 

The man grabbed your arm and carefully pulled out the IV from your vein, while staring at you very disapprovingly but you didn’t give him a chance to say something, quickly turning around and gathering your things.

“You should have someone drive you, it’s not safe for you to drive yet.” Spoke out the man, despite knowing you were probably not going to listen to him. 

“I’ll be fine.” You dismissed. 

“I can dri-“ Tried saying Alexia but you didn’t even let her finish the sentence, too worked up to let her finish.

“No, there’s no way in hell I’m getting into a car with you Alexia. I would rather crash my car into a building.” 

“Then I’ll drive you.” Offered Ingrid but before you could refuse, she started talking again. 

“Really, please, let me give you a ride, I’ll have María pick me up. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive.” She pleaded and you were too tired to argue with her. “Okay, fine, whatever.” And with that you walked out of the room, with Ingrid closely behind you. Not sparing Alexia a single look.

The ride home didn’t take too long, despite having to give Ingrid instruction, given that you lived pretty close anyway. A fact, which you were grateful for because you physically couldn’t wait for the moment you lied down on your bed. This also meant that it didn’t take Mapi too long to pick up Ingrid, not that you weren’t enjoying her company, but right now you were much too eager to finally get some rest, so when you saw her pull up in your driveway you quickly hugged Ingrid goodbye and shut your front door, leaving both women standing outside confused.

You didn’t do anything else for the rest of the day, still not feeling too well, but also so mentally drained that all you could do was just bury yourself under blankets and order you favorite take out after taking a much needed shower, finally somewhat content after the horrendous day you just had. And as you were slowly falling asleep you couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of your stay in Barcelona would be like this. Hopeless and miserable, filled with unpleasant trainings and you questioning why you even came here in the first place. 

__________________________________________

When you woke up the following day you could feel dread completely consuming your whole body. You were terrified of going to training today, but there was no way you could skip training when you were scheduled to be starting in the match tomorrow. Physically you felt okay, you were rested and the dizziness and headache from yesterday were gone. But mentally you were everything but okay. You didn't know what to expect but each second you were becoming more of a nervous wreck. You didn’t know what today would be like and that was what freaked you out the most.

Walking in wasn't any better, everyone was nice but you haven't had to chance to see the one person you dreaded seeing the most, but it appears as though luck was on your side today because you ended up not seeing Alexia all the way to the locker room. Strangely enough the only two people that were there were Ingrid and Mapi. You greeted them quietly and started changing, not saying anything else but as you sat down on the bench to tie your shoelaces you noticed just how hard your hands were shaking. You let out a frustrated huff when even on your third try you still couldn't manage to tie your laces. It was irrational, the way tears started to cloud your vision but you were overwhelmed with every negative emotion that there is and all of a sudden even a simple thing like inability to tie your shoes has immediately put you on the edge. 

Just as you were about to try again someone appeared in front of you, but you refused to raise your head and let whoever it was see just how much of a mess you were. 

"Need a hand?" Ingrid asked gently. At this point you should've expected it would be her. So far, she's been the only one to offer you any support. But through your life you've only ever been met with a cold shoulder, so anyone being there for you just wasn't something you were used to. You don't think this is something you will ever get used to. 

"No thanks, I got it." You actually didn't, but it was easier to struggle alone, it's all you've ever known. No one ever taught you how to accept help, constantly reminding you to not rely on anyone.

"Let me help, please." She asked again. And as much as you wanted to refuse, you didn't have it in you. So, you just pulled away and let her tie your shoes, like a little kid but you were way past the point of caring. You still kept your head down, not wanting her to see you crying. 

"There you go, hey, hey, what's going on?" 

"No, no it's nothing don't worry, i'm fine." You said frantically trying to dry your tears, though unsuccessfully.

"Look, you don't have to tell me, but you don't need to lie to me, I can see you're not fine." With how gentle she was being it was basically impossible for you not to tell her. You couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to you like this, maybe, when you were a kid and your mom was comforting you after you fell from your bike, but even that memory didn’t  feel as warm as this. So, you decided to open up to her, just a little, even if everything in you told you not to. 

"I'm just freaking out a little. These past few training sessions have been hell and I just, I guess I'm just nervous. I really don't want to mess up again." You admitted, already regretting saying anything at all but Ingrid just gave you a soft smile, lightly squeezing your leg, offering you a bit of comfort.

"Hey, no don't say that, you haven't messed up anything."

"That's not what Alexia thinks." You murmured. "It doesn't matter what she thinks." She argued.

"But it does, she's the captain." You argued weakly, because it did, it would always matter what she thought. And if she thought you were not worth being here, then everything was doomed.

"Look, she will come around I promise. And especially after yesterday I don't think she's going to be so harsh anymore." She kept trying to convince you and you weren't sure if it was because she was actually speaking the truth or because she was just trying to calm you down. "I'm having a really hard time believing you, to be honest."

"I get it but I promise, it's going to be okay, really."

"Thank you. Again. You've really been saving my ass these past few days." Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

"You don't have anything to thank me for, really. I'm just being a decent human being." 

"Trust me, that's more than I usually get. So, I appreciate it, and you." She gave you a sad smile at that. You didn't mean to sound so depressing, but that's how it was. You really didn't feel like sugarcoating the truth just for the sake of not sounding like a complete loser. 

You didn't say anything afterwards and neither did Ingrid, she just offered you a hand and helped you stand up. She kept her hold on your hand and slowly pulled you in for a hug. You froze momentarily, not really expecting it, but quickly relaxed and hugged her back. 

"I know you've had it tough and I'm really sorry about it, but I'm here for you, for anything you need. I know what it feels like when you think you're all alone, but I promise you're not, at least not anymore." Tears clouded your vision again but for an entirely different reason now. God you really were a wreck today. You didn't trust yourself to speak so you just squeezed her harder, hoping that she understands your gratitude. 

__________________________________________

You wouldn't say you were necessarily calm after your conversation with Ingrid, but at least you were not on the verge of a complete breakdown anymore, so that's a win. That changed the second you saw Alexia approach you. From experience you knew not to expect anything good from her, so her next words left you completely speechless. 

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked simply, her face not giving you any indication of what she was thinking. Out of all the things she could've said to you, you really didn't expect her to care about how you were feeling. So, you just stared at her, not knowing what to say. She raised her eyebrows though, silently telling you that she was expecting an answer.

"Uhm, I-, yeah, I'm fine." You stuttered, internally cursing yourself for sounding like a complete idiot. She didn't didn't say anything else, just giving you a faint nod that was barely noticeable before turning around and leaving.

The beginning of the training was all formalities, and you were pretty much spaced out until you all started running laps, not really paying attention to anything else, but just as you were about go run the extra laps that Alexia always orders you to, you could hear her shouting. 

"What are you doing?" She asked sternly and you braced yourself for another scolding. You didn't know what you've done wrong, again, but you were definitely not about to argue with her.

"Uhh, I'm about to run the extra lap? Like always?" You said, rather hesitantly, not really knowing what to expect next. 

"No, it's okay, you don't have to, go stretch." She replied and you gave her a simple nod, absolutely flabbergasted.

Since you came here, she always ordered you to run extra laps, to repeat the drills, her telling you not to felt way too weird. For a second you wondered if it was a joke, or if she just went crazy, because this was not the Alexia you knew. But she kept on surprising you today, because each time you were about to do something she kept on stopping you, reminding you to take it easy and repeatedly asking you if you felt okay. 

You were confused at first, not understanding what her point was at all. But that confusion quickly started turning into anger, why did she decide to be nice to you now? She could've been nice to you this whole time and she would've saved both of you a lot of trouble. Why did it take you passing out for her to come to her senses and actually start treating you like a human? So, the next time you heard her tell you to slow down you really had to bite your tongue because you got dangerously close to telling her to fuck off. You were positively furious, your blood was boiling and you kept having to remind yourself to stay calm. 

Breaking point came when she handed you a bottle of water that you could’ve easily gotten yourself, a simple innocent gesture. Under any other circumstances you would’ve just said thank you, but in this very moment that was the last thing you wanted to say. You hated it, how all this time you wanted her to treat you like a human and that’s what she was doing, yet it was only driving you crazy, and against your better judgement you ended up snapping at her.

“Okay I really don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve today, but it is driving me insane. You mind explaining to me what the fuck you’re doing?” You snapped with a frown on your face and you could see the colour draining from her face as she looked as you as though she has seen a ghost.

“I-, uhm, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, after yesterday and you know…” she trailed off, awfully shy for someone who was yelling in your face less than 24 hours ago. 

“Well, I’m fantastic of course! How do you think I’m doing? I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be around you and I certainly don’t want you making sure I’m fine! It’s too late for it now, I don’t care if you feel guilty it’s your own fault Alexia! You don’t get to treat me like a piece of shit and then act all nice hoping that will make up for it.”

Maybe if you weren’t so angry you would’ve felt a bit sorry for her because she truly looked like a kicked puppy after that little outburst. But she didn’t say anything and with a scoff you turned around and left. You didn’t even bother changing, just slumping your bag over your shoulder and escaping to your car as fast as you could. You were lucky you left a bit early and the parking lot was still empty, otherwise everyone would’ve seen and heard the yell you let out once you got into the car. 

That woman really is going to be the death of you. 

__________________________________________

So, the match really didn’t end up that well for you. You ended up winning 3-1 so it wasn’t that much of a disaster for the team, but your performance today was less than good. You were all over the place, but never where you were needed, completely missing passes and none of your shots came even close to a goal. It was painful to watch and you really weren’t surprised when you came off in the 63rd minute. You couldn’t stick around and keep watching it, too angry with yourself so you immediately went inside to take a shower, hoping that a nice cold shower might calm down not just your body but also your mind. 

Once you got out of the shower you could tell that the game was over since some of the players were already inside while some stayed out on the pitch. You hoped to have a bit more time to pull yourself together before everyone would come pouring in. The shower did absolutely nothing to help you and once you started crying there was no way you would be able to stop. Maybe Alexia was right, maybe everything really was just handed over to you and maybe you really weren’t that good. 

You tried to avoid everyone’s stares while you took your bag and excused yourself, leaving the locker room and hoping to find some quiet place to cry it all out. You tried several doors, most of them locked but you managed to stumble open a door that was unlocked and once you opened it you could see it was just a small conference room, abandoned a long time ago given how empty it was. So, you threw your bag and the floor and made a beeline for the corner, slumping down and burying your head in your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The first sob you let out was rough, so rough it actually hurt, but it felt way so good to finally let it out. You cried so hard that you could feel your whole body shake, and each second it was becoming harder and harder to breath.

You completely forgot to keep a track of time, knowing that you were due to leave soon, but in that moment that was the least of your worries. All of a sudden, you could hear someone open the door but you refused to raise your head, much too comfortable in your little bubble, so you couldn’t tell who it was.

Please be Ingrid, please let it be Ingrid.

“Hey..” 

Oh God, no.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Alexia tried again after she got no response from you. 

“Go away.” You pleaded but instead of turning around she just got closer and on instinct you tried to push yourself closer to the wall to create more space between you. “No please, please go away, please I don’t want you here.” 

She didn’t go away, instead she slowly lowered herself onto the ground until she was sitting in front of you, not too far but not too close, which you appreciated. If she were to disturb your personal space in your current state you would probably just freak out even more. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She asked softly, you’ve never heard her speak like that, let alone to you, but you didn’t let that break you. “No, please, just let me be.” You cried, even harder, wanting her to get away from you as soon as possible.

“I will, once you tell me what’s wrong.” She didn’t get a response from you, all that could be heard in the quiet room was your ragged breathing.

“Is this about the game? Is that why you’re so worked up?” She kept her voice gentle, and it made it hard to keep ignoring her, but you weren’t quite ready to talk to her yet. So, all that she got in response was just a whine, one that resembled an agreement. 

“Look I get it, no one likes bad days, but they’re a part of what we do, we can’t have a perfect performance all the time, as much as we want to. It is not the end of the world, I promise.” She tried to comfort you, not realizing she was doing the exact opposite.

“It is when everyone around you thinks that you don’t deserve to be a part of the team and you constantly have something to prove, then it pretty much is the end of the world.” Your voice was rough and you looked like a mess but you still raised your head as you spoke, wanting her to understand that the biggest reason why you were crying was her own doing. You didn’t necessarily feel secure at Barça before, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as it is now, and it was mostly Alexia’s fault. 

She frowned, thinking about what to say next. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I was an arrogant asshole and I took it too far, but none of what I said is true. I did think it was but I don’t anymore and I don’t want you thinking it’s true. It is not, you deserve to be here, okay?” 

“But that’s not what you thought 3 days ago.” You murmured, Alexia barely hearing you.

“No, it’s not. But a person that gets everything handed to them doesn’t train until they actually pass out, you know.” Again, no response from you, but she refused to give up. At least now your sobbing subsided to just small hiccups.

“I know I messed up, and I will forever feel sorry about it, but I don’t want you to doubt whether you deserve to be here or not. You do, you work hard and I didn’t see it then, but I see it now, okay?” Alexia said firmly, and it was hard not to believe her, with how gently but convincingly she was speaking. “Okay.” 

She gave you a soft nod and slowly stood up, offering you a hand and even though you felt like you shouldn’t, you accepted her help. She carefully helped you stand up, holding you up when you wobbled a little from your legs falling asleep. 

“Come on, they’re all probably waiting for us.” She gave your hand a light squeeze and let go and you followed her out of the room.

All of a sudden you didn’t feel like the world was ending, everything that was going on now seemed almost manageable and you walked out of that room with a small, barely noticeable smile on your face.

__________________________________________

Yaaay I finally finished the second part🥳 Sorry for the delay I wanted to get this out over 2 weeks ago, but I hope you liked it anyway :)

@marvelwomen-simp

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur but someone help me I can't get it out of my head:

A threat, Merlin is going to face it, Investigate, fight, yadyadayada... The only solution is to make a deal that, in exchange for keeping Camelot safe for another day, Merlin must give up all the memories of his most precious person.

Obviously after running out of memories of ☆Arthur☆ He doesn't understand the importance of returning to Camelot, why is he still there if Gaius has taught him almost everything he can, Even kilgharrah isn't there anymore. For some reason, moreover, he feels that he often causes the poor physician more problems that should be... And all this without mentioning that before he wanted to see the world, he wanted to explore, to know and who knows? He might even make a name for himself... At least that's what he dreamed of as a child.

Again, why is he still in Camelot?

THEN HE GOES. JUST LIKE THAT

The next day Arthur can't find Merlin anywhere and we all know how he gets. He searches for him, he stresses, he screams... But it is not until night comes and he speaks with Gaius that the old man breaks his facade and Arthur notices the concern, that something is not right. He presses and presses until Gaius finally admits that he hasn't seen Merlin since the previous evening, that Merlin didn't sleep there and that he didn't even know where Merlin had gone.

It is canon that Arthur would immediately lose the marbles. As prince regent he order a wanted party. Nothing can stop him because *the power of the script*

Weeks go by with no sign of Merlin. Search efforts are dwindling as there are other priorities These priorities include certain strange occurrences in border villages.Some of these strange occurrences include a group of knights who were defeated by an entity they failed to see or recognize when they went to pick up an accused sorcerer. In addition, in the town next to that one, an entire family suspected of magic disappeared.

The council agrees that action must be taken or the people will begin to see those signs of weakness when it comes to responding to the law, with a sick king and having faced a mini conquest (I don't remember the chronological order of certain events, apologies); They must make it clear that Camelot is still the same as always...

Then, by the power of the script, the prince argues until he is the one who is designated to command the patrol of knights who will go to the villages in question (for honor, to make the people see him as a prince who executes his own orders or whatever)

Between surveys in the villages, some talks with peasants, follow clues... GUESS WHO THEY FIND?

Merlin has been wandering here and there, posing as a herb seller (because that must be good for something), Coincidentally, he has not left that specific town where the suspicious events occurred (he is that stupidly confident)...

He seems to vaguely recognize the knights. One of them he met in a tavern, another fighting a griffin, another is the brother of someone he met who-knows-where; and the other... He can't remember where he knows him from. That makes him feel strangely dizzy, there is a pressure in his head and there are pits that he does not want to question himself.In all this, Arthur does not stop shouting a thousand and one things at him. How stupid he is, how careless he is, how much work he has put in the backlog while touring every tavern in Albion...

Then Merlin says the three words that put Arthur's world Heel over head:

«who are You?»

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?

female anatomy for reader (no use of y/n, gender-neutral pronouns)

nsfw, fluffy smut basically word count: 1900~ english is not my first language. if you spot any mistakes (especially grammar ones), any typos/misspelled words, or if you have any advice for me in general: please let me know. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

art cr: @arcanescribbles

"Have some mercy on yourself," you mumble, wrapping an arm around his slender waist, and its thinness has you puzzled and somewhat concerned again. He doesn't hesitate. Allows you to place that weary head on his shoulder, to nuzzle into the crook of his neck — a pleasant relief in the guise of your heat, of rhythmic breath tickling his slimline skin.

"You can't work that much,” you remind him, trying to hide your evident worry behind a light-hearted chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of a proper greeting?” Viktor quirks an eyebrow, and his deft hand quickly grabs yours to do a thing that never fails to make your heart shrink: has you melting at the feeling of his dry, warm lips on your knuckles yet again.

“Hug is a proper greeting,” you protest with a slightly offended scoff, burying your nose into the gorgeous mess of his hair — all unkempt strands and a sturdy scent of something pleasant, yet not exactly definable.

“Not when it comes with scolding,” Viktor releases your hand, the touch of his lips lingering on your skin, and he turns around, forcing you to break the embrace for a second — which you do reluctantly. But now you get to face him, and it certainly feels like a much bigger win.

A win and another reason to give him a lecture. Viktor initiates eye contact, runs a hand along the perfect curve of your hips, hoping that his gentle touch is a good enough distraction from his terribly deep eye-bags — so treacherously confirming your concerns about his sleep schedule (or the lack of such, to be precise).

"You've gotten thinner," you state with a sad frown, looking Viktor up and down. "And you need a nap," you continue, tangling two fingers into his hair. "And a bath.”

“I’ve missed you terribly, and that’s the first thing you mention when I finally have you in my arms?” Viktor cooes, staring at you with a guilty smile — your love-sick genius, always exhausted yet so unexplainably handsome in his own special way.

You scoff again, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently pressing him against the desk — a small gesture of care that allows his body better support without the cane.

“Have you eaten today?” you carefully ask, watching his expression closely.

“Maybe,” he grudgingly answers, and his amber eyes are lancing right through you in the dull light of his lab — tired, attentive, pretty.

“I don’t like that answer." Your voice is a sweet purr against his skin, and he winces as you slide a hand down his chest, fixing his vest for him.

“You’re being incredibly annoying today,” he informs you, pressing a quick peck to your lips. A brief one, barely palpable, too fleeting to give you a proper taste. “Perhaps I should appease you.”

“If you want to appease me, a kiss like that won’t do.”

“Demanding, are we?” He quirks an eyebrow, casually sitting down at his desk, squeezing your waist in a playful attempt to pull you onto his lap. But you don’t move an inch. Not until he kisses you properly, at least.

He gets the hint. Gently grabs your chin, pressing your noses together — kissing the right way this time, deep and slow, with his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your open mouth — it’s almost lewd when that small motion steals a surprised moan out of you. A kiss of a hungry, fervently missing his lover man. Your man.

“Better?” His question is rhetorical at this point. He knows he left you amazed and dizzy once again — your messy breath is giving it all away. But Viktor wouldn’t be Viktor if he hadn’t asked. The incorrigible tease at his best behavior.

“Much better.”

You give him the reassurance he’s been seeking, adding the missing touch to this affectionate gesture by nuzzling into his embrace, and he hums, satisfied with the solace you’ve brought him so easily with the mere power of your presence.

“So… is my darling appeased now?”

“Relatively.” You laugh, and a self-assured smirk plasters smugly across his face. “It won’t save you from having dinner with me tonight though.”

“Is that so? Well, I appreciate the effort, and the fact that you came here just to visit your sick, touch-starved man, but I’m afraid I still have work to do—“

“I’m not here just to visit you,” you cut him off, as one of your hands slips off his neck straight to cup his sharp knee. “I’m here to collect you. I’m stealing you home with me.”

“Oh no.” He cracks an exaggeratedly offended expression, but judging from the still present on his face grin — he’s actually rather pleased with your intentions. “Being abducted definitely doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”

“That’s right.” You nod, nudging him softly. “I’ll even hold you hostage if that’s what it takes to bathe you and get you into bed.”

“But what a horrific torture!” he pulls away, slamming a hand against his chest with a low giggle — it lands on his sternum with a muffled slap, right where his thudding heart is. “How ever will I survive that?”

“I believe your fate is inevitable, so you better just accept it.”

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, and you gasp, allowing him to lay his cheek against your chest. “Can’t wait to end up in that bath with you,” he whispers, and you hitch in breath, your shaky hands stop massaging his scalp.

“Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?” you tease light-heartedly, feeling his grip tighten around your waist.

“Me.” His response is firm and simple, yet still maddening enough for you to go weak in the knees. Apparently, his nap is being delayed again.

***

Bath with Viktor is a death sentence — a long and squirming one, of countless orgasms and moans loud enough to wake up the whole Piltover. You tried, you really did, to talk him out of it, to make him wait until at least after dinner, but he’s stubborn and knows damn well that you can’t resist him. So all your warnings about how he needs some rest first were muffled mercilessly by his tongue buried deep inside you. At this point, you’re not even sure whether he’s really that into devouring you, or if he’s just trying to prove you wrong, to show you that he’s never tired when it comes to eating you out.

He has you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs resting on his covered in crescent nail marks shoulders, and you tug, tug, tug on his hair as he tongue-fucks you through yet another insane release. If only he could smile right now, which was obviously impossible in his position, he would definitely give you the most provoking signature smirk. So you mentally thank his passion for giving head, since it’s the one to blame for his inability to destroy you even more with those grins and his witty dirty-talk right now. He has you right where he wants you: with your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, with your slick getting quite literally everywhere — his tongue, his chin, some on his chest, even. And when you slam your head against the wall, light-headed and breathless, he knows it’s time to do a particularly vicious thing — to suck on your abused clit so hard he might as well just suck the damn soul out of you while he’s at it.

Too much. Overwhelmingly so. And those sweat drops forming on his forehead, and the way he digs his wet fingers into the soft flesh of your legs, and the way he laps up so thoroughly—

“Gonna cum.” You gather the last strengths in your possession to mumble an illegible warning and the skillful bastard between your thighs only picks up pace, leaving you wondering how his tongue is still intact after all that frantic motions inside your cunt. But the technique is rather impressive. You stare at him, wide-eyed and with your lower lip bitten. His sinful gaze meets yours with a guttural rattle when you grip a strand of his dark hair so hard your knuckles turn white. You want to tell him how good his mouth feels, how indescribably hot he looks kneeling in the bathtub, how attractive his skin glistens right now, in the warm water. But the words are unnecessary. Your precious cussing as you come undone on his agile tongue is the best existing compliment to him.

So you deliver. He coaxes the third orgasm out of you. Leaves you throbbing, making one of your shaking legs slip off his slick shoulder into the water with a loud splash. He licks the remnants of you tauntingly slow off his swollen lips, watching your every convulsion closely, and he’s so proud of himself that it almost re-turns you on all over again.

“Look at you.” His sultry whisper reminds you that his ability to be a smartass is back.

“Viktor—“ You suffocate, grabbing his shoulder to hold on for dear life, so you don’t fall out of the tub completely. He chuckles, carefully pulling you back into the water, thoughtful as always, like the gentleman he is. Well, if rearranging your guts with that tortuous tongue and thick cock could be considered something gentlemen do, of course.

He tastes like you now. His tongue is somewhat sour, much puffier in comparison to yours, and it’s not that animate anymore — he pushes it into your mouth rather lazily, evidently worn out by the intercourse.

“I thought the purpose of this bath was to get me cleaned, not dirty,” he whispers with a filthy giggle, wiping your slick off his chin. You roll your eyes, admitting that the single thing stopping you from biting him for that joke is a complete lack of energy. Admitting that he’d just one-upped every single man you've slept with before. Once again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggle back, nuzzling into his chest, and it feels so gentle — the lust is gone and the only thing left between you two is pure affection; divine, immaculate, expressed through the softness of your body and the sharpness of his.

“I would be a liar if I said it doesn’t sound tempting, but I don’t believe you’re in a state to do that, my love,” Viktor teases, but you don’t talk back. He left you witless. Too fucked out for your own liking and just perfect for his. “Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?” he asks, pointing at your wobbly legs.

“Yeah.” You hesitate for a second, reluctant to get out of the warm bath. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” Viktor shakes his head, and his response dramatically increases your urge to pinch him. That wasn’t the deal!

“No. Not a chance, you’re not skipping dinner again.”

“But I’ve already had dinner. Well. In a way,” he whispers, as the corners of his mouth curl into another insufferable smirk, and it takes a good ten-second uncomfortable pause for you to understand the pun.

“Eating pussy is not an actual meal,” you frown, pulling away.

“And that’s so unfortunate, don’t you think? At least that way, I’d never skip them…”

“Viktor!”

[luveline]

Hii! How are you?

I love all ur fics especially Hotch and his adult daughter ones. They are just brilliant<3 Can u please write something with Hotch being worried about his daughter as faints or get injured? Thank you!

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

There are silver-linings to your concussion. Not many, and he’d much prefer you were better, but silver linings all the same. 

You, unable to look after yourself with on-again off-again dizziness and shortness of breath, have no choice but to stay at Aaron’s house. (Well, you could’ve stayed home, and he could’ve come to visit you a few times a day while your mother worked, but this is easier on his gas tank and his heart.) 

The silver lining is that he actually gets to spend time with you, large swaths of it, and that he gets to see you without your smart formalwear for the first time since you’d met all but four months ago. It will never not be strange to have a daughter and to be her acquaintance, but Aaron feels that this time is perfect to get to know you beyond two hour dinners and texts. 

It is admittedly occasionally awkward, but he doesn’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t need you to pretend that you’re more comfortable with him than you are, or that he’s been there for you as you deserved. He wishes he was, and he can’t forgive your mother for keeping you a secret, but he can understand her reasoning (to some extent), and he can try to give you what you deserve, because it is about you. You’re a young woman who deserves a father and has one now. He’s determined to prove that it isn’t too late. 

You curl on the family couch with a new pillow under your head. You wear pyjamas he bought you, socks you’ve borrowed, and a big blanket covers your legs. Jack sits on your feet eating grapes from a bowl. 

You look younger without makeup. Aaron can almost see you as a kid. 

“You want another grape?” Jack asks you. 

“Please, buddy,” you whisper, holding out your hand. 

You’re trying not to talk or move too much, as movement hurts your nose, which was broken. Aaron still can’t believe someone hurt you —you were assaulted in the subway during a city riot and passed out as result, where you hit your head, and ended up where you are now with post concussive syndrome.

A bad fall can do such great harm, he can’t imagine how awful it would’ve been to have met you and had you stolen from him that swiftly. He’s a lucky man. 

Aaron almost hadn’t answered when you called, about to change into Kevlar and prepare the BAU for an anti-terroism strike that Strauss shoved into their laps. He’d smiled briefly at your contact photo and thought of the phone call he’d have with you later to apologise for missing the first, but then he got a strange feeling. What could it hurt for him to make sure you weren’t in the centre of it? 

“Do you want water?” Jack asks. 

You hold out your hand again, searching for Jack’s. You find it and give his fingers a squeeze. “No thank you. You don’t have to worry about me, I just want you to watch your movie.” 

“I’ve seen it a hundred– hundred times,” he says, taking his hand back to eat another grape. After a moment, he lays his cheek against your legs where you have them bunched up. 

“Don’t choke on your grapes,” you say. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. 

You laugh quietly. “I won’t.”

Aaron closes his laptop, having failed to work from home in the armchair beside you both. He might need some help to get back to a functioning place when he returns to the office, but his hands itch with a different need today. He checks his watch. 

“Time for another dose, if you want it?” he asks you. 

“Please.” 

It’s only anti-nausea and painkillers, but you’re quite dependent on them. He’s staying on top of them, because on your second morning here, you’d woken up and forgotten the anti-nausea. Being sick with a broken nose is agony. He doesn’t wanna see you crying again. (Though again, that had made you closer. To get to rub your back, and promise it wasn’t too disgusting, he could deal with it no problem.) 

Haley hums in the kitchen. She’s happy to have her way, which is to have him home, if vaguely bitter that it’s for you. He understands her annoyance, but it’s different. If Jack were attacked and recovering, of course Aaron would be home with him, as he’s home with you, but he won’t stay home for much less and lately, it's been a point of great contention between them. 

Still, she’s a good woman who looks after everyone the best that she can. Your pills are waiting on the counter with a glass of apple juice and a muffin, and your laundry is being folded from the dyer next to Jack’s. 

Aaron ushers her in for a grateful hug, a kiss pressed to her soft cheek. “Thank you, honey.” 

“You’re welcome. She shouldn’t take so much tylenol when she’s barely eating. You’re gonna have to convince her.” 

“I will. I was thinking I’d make soup. You know, my mom’s split pea. What do you think?” 

“Does she like split pea soup?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Just ask, Aaron,” she says, not without sympathy. 

“I was going to.” 

Haley gives a long sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

He rubs her arm. They’ve been very far apart lately, so far that he’s wondered if they’re not going to make it work, but for today they seem back in sync. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. 

“No, I am. I know it’s impossible, but I keep imagining how I would feel if it happened to me.” She wipes lint or maybe nothing from his collar. “What if I had a baby out there and I knew nothing about her? It’s not… not fair on either of you.” 

“Worse things have happened, Hale.” Because it really is awful, but he doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. You, yes. Poor girl, your poor nose. Aaron gives Haley a quick kiss. “We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it, hm?” 

“Okay, honey. Well, find out what she wants for dinner.” 

“I’m gonna make it.” 

“I can make it.” She moves back to her pile of laundry. “I don’t have much to do, with you home. It’s nice.” 

He winces, grabbing your pills, your juice, and the muffin. Aaron has no qualms sharing duties, but he can’t have this conversation again. Of course it’s nice to be home, that’s not the issue. 

You and Jack are exactly where he left you eating grapes and watching TV, but you’ve shifted upward a little to make more room for him, the blanket now over his legs.

“Are you looking after your big sister?” Aaron asks. He can’t help himself. 

Jack grins at him. “Yeah, dad. We need more grapes.” 

“Yeah?” Aaron walks around the couch to pass you the few pills into your hand. He crouches in front of you. It hasn’t stopped feeling alien, suddenly having two kids, but it has started to feel right. “It’s dinner time soon, Jack, can you wait? I don’t want you to have a full tummy.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks. 

Aaron passes you the glass of juice for you to wash down the pills. “I was thinking we’d let Y/N choose…” He taps your knee gently. “Do you have a craving for anything?” 

“I can’t choose,” you say. 

His hand turns to cup your knee, hoping it isn’t too much. “Sure you can. Jack chooses dinner all the time.” 

“I’ll eat whatever.” 

“You’ve barely eaten all day, isn’t there something you love? Something soft?” 

You look like him when you’re not happy. Unsure, you look to Jack. “Can’t Jack pick, please?” 

“It’s your turn,” Jack says. 

Aaron puts the muffin he’d been given for you on your knee. “Honey, just think about it. There’s no rush. You and Jack can live off grapes for the rest of the night.” 

“Mean,” you murmur. 

Jack slips off of the couch with his bowl. He makes for the kitchen, his wobbly declarations of love cute and ringing when he sees his mom. “Hi, mommy. You’re pretty. Can I have grapes?” 

“Hi baby.” 

You smile, fingertip playing with the muffin’s paper casing. “He’s so lovely.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s okay, right?” 

Aaron holds your gaze. Not commanding, but listening intently. “What’s okay?” 

“For us to– you know. To cuddle.” 

“Yes, it’s okay. Jack makes his own mind up about things, and if he wants to cuddle with you, he will. If you don’t want him to cuddle, you can ask him for space.” 

“It’s strange,” you say, laying your face against your pillow, muffin ignored, “to have a brother now.” 

“Bad strange?” he asks. 

You smile. Almost hopeful. “No.” 

Aaron does know what you’re thinking. He has four months of evidence on your behaviour, and you aren’t dishonest, so he believes his frame of reference to be correct. Right now, you’re feeling unwell, maybe the pain in your face is flaring or your concussion is giving you grief, but you seem to already love your little brother. If not love, then to be very fond of him. You have similar feelings about Aaron, but you’re shy about showing it. 

He understands that you might not feel very close to him so soon, he understands that you’re practically still strangers, but he loves you. Maybe it’s something innate in being your father, but he really does love you. 

It’s like being passed your baby —you don’t know your baby, they’re a baby, but you love them. Aaron doesn’t know if you like vegetable soup more than French onion, if you like buttered bread or a dinner roll or toasted baguette on the side, but he’ll learn. 

“I’ll make you anything you want for dinner,” he says softly, looking for your hand in the blankets, and taking it with similar care. “You just have to tell me what you like.” 

You look down at his hand. 

“Sorry for making things difficult.” 

“You’re not making anything difficult.” His thumb rubs your hand of its own accord. “You aren’t difficult. You’re remarkably easy to look after.” 

“Thank you.” 

“If you could just pick what you wanted for dinner…” 

You both laugh at one another, and you wince at the soreness in your nose. Aaron stands from his crouch with aching legs to pat you on the shoulder. 

“I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I’m a good guess, usually.” 

“Okay. Thank you, Aaron,” you say, resting with a sore squint back against your nest. 

In the kitchen, Jack sits in Haley’s lap, his bowl filled again with more grapes. She’s chewing on one when he comes back. “Hey, did she decide?” 

“Not yet. I’m working on it.” 

“Well, we have time.” 

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario : drunk calling ex!riize ༉‧₊˚.

req: hello sorry for another rq but what about ex!riize and you're drunk call him.. can i be 🪐 anon too pls

note: sure! thank you for your request ♥

pairing: ex!riize x reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

“y/n? Why are you calling me?”

“I just… I saw this otter plushie on my way home, and it reminded me so much of you.”

After dinner with your friends, you drank a bit too much, and seeing that plushie made you think of your ex, Shotaro. You couldn’t help but call him, missing him deeply. Though you had separated due to the distance, both of you still harbored feelings for each other. Surprised by your call, he answered immediately, letting out a small laugh when he realized you were drunk.

“Are you walking home alone? Don’t hang up, I’ll talk to you until you get there… So, tell me, what was the otter like?”

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

“Why are you calling me now, y/n?”

“Do you ever think about me, Eunseok?”

Eunseok didn’t expect your call late at night, much less for your first words in months to be that. He stayed silent for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“Have you been drinking, y/n?”

“Just… answer my question…” From the tone of your voice, he knew you were drunk.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, y/n. We’re not talking about this if you won’t even remember it when you wake up.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“Huh? Sungchan? Why did you call me?”

“You’re the one who called me, yn…”

After your office dinner, you had a little too much to drink and accidentally called Sungchan. When he answered and heard your voice, he couldn’t help but laugh at how confused you sounded.

“It was me…? Sorry, I meant to call a taxi…” you said, about to hang up before he spoke again.

“Where are you, y/n? Have you been drinking?”

Even though it had been months since you broke up, Sungchan still cared for you deeply. He decided to stay on the phone to make sure you got home safely.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

“Mgh…?”

Wonbin was already asleep when you called, his voice groggy as he answered. You had just gotten home from a party, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Memories of all the sweet moments you shared flooded your mind.

“I miss coming home and sleeping next to you…”

“Huh, y/n? Why are you calling so late?”

“I miss you, Wonbin… Don’t you miss me? Don’t you miss anything about me?”

“Ah… you’re drunk, aren’t you? I do miss you, y/n, but… this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

“y/n? Is something wrong?”

After drinking with your friends at a bar, memories of how things ended with Seunghan overwhelmed you. You hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye, and it still haunted you. Seeing your call, he answered, concerned, it wasn’t like you to call so late. But hearing your voice, he quickly realized what was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Seunghan… I’m sorry for leaving like that, for how I treated you, and… I hope someday you can forgive me, you know? I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but I miss you so much right now…”

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n… Are you okay? Are you with anyone? I can come pick you up…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? And you haven’t even apologized yet…”

The last thing Sohee expected that day was a call from you, let alone a drunken, angry one. Although he didn’t like the way you were speaking to him, he also didn’t want to argue with you in that state.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this right now, y/n. I already explained why we broke up… Are you home? Please go to bed. If you want, I’ll call you tomorrow, but don’t do this now.”

⭑.ᐟ anton

“y/n, what…?”

“Anton? I didn’t know who else to call… I’ve been drinking, and I started feeling sick on my way home… I think I’m near your place, but I don’t know…”

You thought you could get home without a taxi after a party, but you started feeling dizzy and lost along the way. Even though Anton was your ex, you knew he’d always answer, so you called him for help. Hearing your voice, Anton immediately grew nervous, worrying about you and getting ready to find you. He didn’t hold any grudges against you, if anything, he still hadn’t completely gotten over you. Without hesitation, he went out to help.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[rlimagi]

Life was Sweet

Pairings: Queen of Hearts x Reader

Request: hi!! could i request the queen of hearts x mad hatter!reader, whos known her since before the prank, and still stuck around with her because theyre loyal. and theyre always trying to help her open up and have a little fun, so she can be her true self again!

Genre: Fluff

Note: it was kinda hard to write for the Queen of Hearts as only her mean side was shown but I truly believe that Bridget is still in there somewhere.

You had been by The Queen of Heart’s side even before she was The Queen of Hearts. Your best friend used to be Bridget, one of the sweetest princess in Merlin academy.

But now, in everyone else’s eyes, she was the cruelest Queen there had ever been. ‘Off with their heads’ rolls down her tongue as natural as walking for a normal person.

Any normal human would turn their backs against the Queen once they knew it was too late for her to be the sweet Bridget again, but you were never normal.

“Bridget, you’ve gotta stop being so harsh on Red.” You tried to reason with the Queen as she walked around your room and you were starting to feel dizzy.

It was midnight when a sudden explosion bursted your doors open, revealing the Queen of Hearts. Then 2 hours later, she was still in your room complaining about her daughter while touching and messing up your precious stuff.

“I told you to address me by my title!” The Queen glared at you but you chose to ignore her fiery gaze, no matter how much she threatened to chop your head off you knew she would never find the heart to do so. No matter how small it became. “And last time I checked, she is my daughter! Not yours!”

“She might as well be, I helped raise her!” You shouted, startling Bridget and even yourself at the outburst. You muttered an apology before taking a sip of focus potion to wake you up fully. You were so out of it after only getting 2 hours of sleep.

“Whatever, the point is she’s only a kid, she’s in the phase where she needs to figure out who she is. And who she is definitely isn’t you.” You slowly approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder In comfort while also trying to knock some sense into her.

“Remember when we were teenagers and all the fun we had? Your parents were never as controlling as you are with Red. Maybe we should bake cakes together again like the good old days!”

“Fun? I remember how much fun they all had when I was weak, gullible, and humiliated! Luckily you were sick or you might as well be dead to me like everyone else that was there!” The Queen exclaimed, her hands laid on a knife you were heating up earlier.

Your heart sunk deeper at the reminder of the day when your lives changed forever. You and Bridget had always been friends, since babies. Your parents practically raised you both together as both of your Kingdoms were united.

Ella came in view when you and Bridget arrived at Merlin academy, in a way she was her own person but she just felt like one of you guys so it wasn’t surprising how quickly the three of you got along.

Your friendship was great, well until one fateful day when everything changed. For worse.

The three of you planned to go to the dance together seeing as Bridget badly wanted to go, you and Ella never really liked those things but agreed to go anyways, for Bridget.

Just a day before the night of the dance, you had gotten terribly sick and chose to stay in your shared dormitory with Bridget. Your friends wanted to stay and look after you but you didn’t want to ruin their fun, especially Ella after you overheard Prince Charming talking about asking her out to dance.

If only you knew the outcome, you would’ve begged them not to leave your side.

A few hours after the night started, you were woken up by loud noises wandering around your dorm. You couldn’t make out who it was as you were too sick to move, but you knew it was Bridget from the second she mumbled about getting revenge of some sort.

But that was it, after that night, you weren’t getting any better so your parents took you back home to let the family doctor take care of you.

When you became healthy enough to go back to school, everything changed. Everyone avoided Bridget as if she was a plague, even Ella. And it pained you that you never asked what really happened, all you knew was that you’ll be by Bridget’s side no matter what.

So when King Beast and Queen Belle decided to unite all the Kingdoms, only yours and Bridget’s Kingdom rejected their peace offering. And as a result, your Kingdom and hers were forever blocked from ever going out of your Kingdom’s land.

“Bridget! Are you alright?” You immediately dropped all your belongings and rushed to her aid. The Queen flinched in pain when you accidentally pressed on her wound, “Sorry!”

You gently pulled her to sit down on a chair before using your free hand to grab one of your healing potions. “This is going to stink for a while. Are you okay?” you gently held her hand before looking up, right into her eyes. The same eyes you would get lost in every time you looked, and she looked at you the same way.

Suddenly it was like she was a teenage girl again, when life was sweet. Remembering the sparks that would go off whenever you held her hands as you placed on a bandage when she accidentally burnt herself while you guys were on your weekly baking date. The way you would hold her so warmly that all her senses would go off and all she wanted to do was be in your arms forever.

The feelings she had that got locked up when she became the Queen of Hearts, what she didn’t know was that she had already taken yours and you had forgotten it too.

You both came back to your senses when the sound of a thunder was heard, immediately moving apart from each other. You dropped her hand in panic and she was starting to miss that feeling. And she didn’t like feeling that feeling one bit.

“Oh, umm…do you want to bake a cake together? Unless you want cookies or cupcakes or both!” Your question was more like a demand since you gave her no chance to speak, grabbing her hands while ignoring the old butterflies that had finally grew wings again.

“We’re going to make cookies!” You claimed once you and Bridget arrived at your kitchen, you usually prefer for your bakers to make whatever you desire but baking it yourself just felt perfect at this time around.

The whole situation felt awkward at first, you weren’t used to being the one talking. Bridget was usually the one who starts and ends the conversations, mostly ranting about problems in her own Kingdom and her daughter.

But ever since that moment you shared, she had been quiet and weird, it was like her body was there but she wasn’t quite herself. It wasn’t too bad since she actually did help with mixing up the ingredients. But you really hated feeling awkward around your best friend. You terribly wanted to break the ice, so you did.

“Oh, you got something there.” You slowly headed her way, reaching out near her face pretending to get a non existent thing off her face. “Right…there! Ah HAH!” you grinned as you threw flour to her way.

Bridget stayed still, at first you thought that that would be the end of your precious head but then you saw a smile grew on her face as she did the same back. “I’m not letting you get away so easily!”

After almost 17 years, you finally found a way to see old Bridget again. You really never appreciate the small moments until it is taken away from you.

“Game on, my Queen!”

Half an hour later and the whole kitchen was filled with flour, the room was basically whiter than Snow White herself. You and Bridget laughed all night before taking a break on the floor.

“Remember when we used to have those weekly baking dates and it would always end up with flour all over the place?” You reminisced of your younger days as you settled yourself down next to Bridget. Leaning on her shoulders gently, a habit of yours since long long ago.

“Your mother would get so disappointed and made us clean it ourselves but we still did it again. Of course I remember.” Bridget smiled but not like the smile she usually does when ordering guards to cut people’s head off, this was different, genuine, and for a moment you saw the same look she used to hold before everything changed.

The look that had you lost in time and all you could do was look at her like she was the only one who existed in your world.

“I love you.” You nervously blurted out. One of the things you hated the most since birth was hiding your own feelings, it was suffocating, especially since you were hiding from the person you practically spent your whole life with.

And for a moment, you thought she won’t feel the same way. After all, you guys never addressed the situationship you had going on. It was greatly pushed aside after all the problems Bridget faced after that sorrow night.

“You do?” The Queen’s eyes grew soft as she looked back at you, her hands gently caressing your face.

“I always have, and always will. I loved you since that day you defended me from those bullies even though they were twice your size, we were twelve. You were always the sweetest, even to people who never deserved it.” You chuckled, it was bittersweet but at least you and Bridget had always been by each other’s side, no matter what.

Even if, for the past 20 years you guys had to push aside your true feelings for each other.

“I planned to come clean about my feelings to you years ago but as you know, time loves to mess with u-“ your words were cut off when Bridget leaned in, using her finger to lift your chin up before pulling you in for a long much needed kiss.

The softness of her lips almost took your breath away. The longing and desperate feelings that had been built up were release as you melted into her hold.

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall. 

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice. 

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock. 

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?” 

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet. 

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go. 

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line. 

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.  

[vettelsvee]

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."