#and i have been pushed far past my limits for over a year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p1astr81 · 4 months ago

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‘tis the damn season

in which: Oscar’s ex calls him up one afternoon, proposing that they fake their relationship for a week at her parent’s house.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

warnings: loosely based on the TS song, use of y/n (once or twice), Oscar is hella whipped, cursing, idk I think that’s all.

wc: 7.3k

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Your thumb hovered over the call button, mentally preparing for the awkward conversation that was about to take place. Your chest rose and fell in deep motions.

Before you could psych yourself out, your finger mashed the call button.

“Oh my god, please don’t pick up. Please don’t pick up. Please don’t pick up. Please don’t p-“ he answered after the second ring. “Hey!” Your voice shook, an embarrassing amount of vulnerability.

“Y/n? Has something happened? You sound… on edge.”

You pulled at the strings of the blanket draped across your lap. “Well, I have a very big favor to ask of you, and of course you can say no. I mean it’s a huge favor—really weird actually,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It can’t be that bad.”

It was tough to swallow the lump in your throat. “My whole family want to spend next week at our cabin, and I…” it was suddenly hard for you to breathe, your heart ten pounds heavier. Oscar remained silent. “Well,” you sighed, “would you be able to come along?”

The silence on the other end was deafening. Not even distant breath. The static filtering through the speakers inflated your anxiety with every passing second.

“Okay.” He gave in with a breath. “Just text me the details.”

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SUNDAY

Living out in Nice, the drive to his Monaco apartment wasn’t unbearably far. You stepped out of the car to help him put his bags in your trunk. You’d decided to take your car because, changes are, it would do better in the mountains than his McLaren.

When you rounded to the back of the car, the trunk was already closed, and soon the sound of your driver’s door shutting reached your ears.

You found Oscar occupying the driver’s seat. “What are you doing?” You raised a brow. Oscar smiled innocently. “have you ever driven when we are together?” It was a question not meant to be answered. You didn’t fight him, knowing it was a losing game. You just rolled your eyes and took up your place in the passenger’s seat.

You and Oscar traveled in near silence, only your music filling the empty air. The atmosphere was light, rid of all the awkwardness you assumed would hang around the both of you. Maybe Oscar was just easy company to keep.

You allowed your thoughts to travel far away from you, to the past to be exact.

You and Oscar didn’t end things messy. Not at all. It was a mutual agreement. In your year and a half together, you didn’t have many spats. Every day spent with together was brimming with endless devotion.

The problem arose when your schedules began to conflict.

With dreams of being a mechanical engineer, a lot of your time was spent on your studies. Oscar knew how dedicated you were, and therefore never pushed you to travel with him. But only seeing him for a few weeks of the year—less than half of them—began to strain your relationship. Mentally, it was draining the both of you.

So to focus on your studies, and for Oscar to focus on his career, you decided to part ways.

That was two months ago, and you’d been no contact ever since. Well, until you asked him to come with you to your parent’s cabin.

You felt a poke on your shoulder, followed by a “hey” and a laugh. You tore your eyes from the window, peering at Oscar with raised brows. “Where’re you at?” He grinned at you, taking glances out of the corner of his eye.

“Hm? Oh. Just thinking.” You shook your head, watching as the buildings transitioned into dead trees as you left Monaco’s limits.

He hummed a response, leaving a gap of silence before asking, “so, why did you want me to come along?”

You sighed, your hands falling to your lap. “You know how they are. They think I can’t keep a guy, and… I don’t know, I was hoping if they’d see you and think you’re still with me then their image of me would change.”

Oscar frowned. Reflexes guiding his movements, he reached out to you, having every intention to place a hand on your thigh or over your own hand. He caught himself before it got that far, placing his hand on the center console instead. The role of comforting you was no longer his part to play.

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry. We should turn around I’ll just-“

“It’s not stupid.” He cut you off. “I think it sucks, and I’ll help you the best I can.” He assured, giving you a soft smile, one you returned. “Thanks, Os.”

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You and Oscar were the last to arrive at the cabin on Sunday night.

He followed in behind you. His eyes widened when he saw the whole family in the living room. Your parents, two sisters, your two aunts on your moms side, and your four cousins. Not to mention all of their significant others and your niece and nephew. In all, it was about sixteen people.

He leaned in close to your ear, whispering, “I didn’t realize you meant the whole family.” You shivered as his warm breath hit your skin. Goosebumps spread across your entire body. “It’s as much as a shock to me.” You told him truthfully.

Your mom saw you first, jumping up and running to greet you. “Oh! I’ve missed you.” She greeting, smothering you in a hug. Her strong floral perfume nearly choked you to death. “Missed you too, mom.” You forced yourself away before the noxious scent took you out completely.

Meanwhile, your uncle, Isaac, had kidnapped Oscar, dragging him away with a tight hold around his neck. “Oscar! My boy, good to see you’re still hangin in there.” Uncle Isaac was sure to stare dead in your eyes while saying the last part. The way he laughed at himself made Oscar’s stomach twist. His face remained straight, not a hint of amusement in sight.

“Hey, Uncle Isaac.” Oscar greeted politely.

Little five year old Theo jumped up, running toward Oscar. “Oscar!” He cheered, nearly toppling over from excitement. Oscars ability to move was inhibited when Theo latched around his legs. Isaac let go of Oscar.

“Hey mate!” Oscar greeted with equal enthusiasm, hoisting the kid up into his arms. Oscar held Theo over his head, and Theo spread his arms and legs out. “Mom look! I’m an airplane!” He cheered, making airplane noises. Lia, your sister, nearly had a heart attack when she turned to see what her son was talking about. “Okay, I think that’s enough airplane.” She rushed to Oscar’s side, who let Theo down. “Aww,” Theo pouted, crossing his arms and walking right past his mom, ignoring her.

Oscar felt a tug on his pants. Looking down, he was met with the large doe eyes of Theo’s twin sister, Thalia. She waved shyly under his gaze. He bent down to chat with her closer, pointing out the doll clutched in her hand. “That’s a pretty doll.” He smiled. “What’s her name?”

Thalia swayed herself from side to side. “Lillia.” She muttered. Oscar gasped softly. “That’s a pretty name.”

While Oscar was being bombarded by the children, you’d been dragged to the living room to greet all of your relatives.

“Ah, I see you’ve kept this one longer than a year. That’s a new record.” You uncle Leni laughed, embracing you loosely. You gave a half-assed laugh, though it hurt massively. You thought you could’ve avoided these kinds of comments if Oscar was here with you, but now it seems you’ve dragged him out here for no reason.

You should’ve known better.

“Are you still going for that mechanical engineering degree?” Your aunt Anne asked a bit of a judgy tone. She sat next to her husband Leni while swirling a drink in her hand. You nodded, sitting next to your sister Katie on the floor. “And you’re still aiming for a job with f1?” You gave another nod.

“Are you sure? I mean, isn’t that a bit unrealistic?”

Cocking your head to the side you asked, “what do you mean by that?” Your tone was harsh and accusatory. Anne shrugged. “Well, it isn’t really a place for a woman is it? If you look in any of those garages, it’s mostly men.”

You felt the anger swirling deep in your stomach, brewing a deeper feeling of resentment. You open your mouth to speak when Oscar’s voice joined the conversation from behind you.

“Yeah it is mostly men, but that doesn’t mean she can’t do it.” Oscar shrugged, taking a seat next to you. Close enough to not raise suspicion, but far enough to not be touching. You looked to him with raised brows. “I think she can do it. Last year, she majorly helped the team fix an issue with the car. And that was only in her third year of school.”

Uncle Leni laughed. “Eh, she’s got as good of a chance as any man.” He waved a hand through the air. For a moment, you thought he actually was showing some support. “She’s dating one of the drivers.” He motioned a hand toward Oscar, laughing loudly. Everyone else in the room chuckled.

You stood abruptly. “Excuse me, I need the restroom.” You muttered, trying your best not to run away from the family.

With worried eyes, Oscar watched as you disappeared down the hall. He had never been a violent man, but right now, he really wanted to take your uncle by the collar of his shirt and chuck him over the balcony to send him tumbling down the side of the mountain. Of course, he did not.

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As the family was winding down and preparing for bed, a realization hit you. If it was a physical force, it would’ve knocked you through a wall.

While Oscar helped you straighten up the living room, you leaned closer to him, whispering, “We have to share a bed.” Oscar turned his head over his shoulder to look at you with a raised brow. “What?” He genuinely had not heard you. “We have to share a room. And a bed.”

The color drained from Oscar’s face. “Oh,” he muttered, crossing the living room to create distance between you two.

When the two of you entered the room a little later that night, the air between you became tense and awkward.

“I’ll sleep in the floor.” Oscar proposed, making you shake your head quickly. “I can’t ask that of you. I dragged you out here.”

“I chose to come out here.” He reminded you. Your eyes drifted to the king sized bed. “I think it’ll be fine. We’ll just stay on our own sides.”

You moved a pillow, creating a physical barrier between your two sides of the bed. You faced him, motioning your hands to the quick fix as a way to say, see?

Oscar shrugged. “I guess.”

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MONDAY

The family was off to the slopes the next morning. Oscar and yourself driving Theo and Thalia because your nephew was attached to Oscar, and Thalia was always by her brother’s side.

When you got there, Theo started dragging Oscar toward the small slopes. “I want to race you! I bet I’m faster than you.” Oscar laughed. “I was going to go down the big kid slopes.” Oscar pointed to the much steeper slope. Theo frowned. “But I can’t go to the big kid slopes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. It was hard for Oscar to deny Theo anything, so he looked to you with a question in his eyes. You gave him a small nod.

“Are you coming with us?” Thalia’s small voice asked form next to you, her hands, encased in bright pink gloves, gripping her goggles. You glanced up at Oscar and hummed. “Sure, why not?” You smiled, taking Thalias hand in yours and joining Oscar and Theo as they waited for a lift.

Oscar didn’t seem surprised that you had also wound up stuck with the kiddies. “I can look after the both of them if you want to go with the rest of my family.”

Oscar’s face scrunches up, like that idea inflicted physical pain upon his person. He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not a big fan of skiing anyway, so I think the kiddie slopes are the perfect pace for me.” He flashed one of his charming grins at you. You gave a small smile in response.

You flagged down Lia and Dylan, informing them from a distance that you and Oscar were looking over their kids. They seemed overly satisfied that the responsibility was taken away from them.

“I’m scared.” Thalia’s little voice squeaked from next to you. You smiled down at her, a comforting hand on her head. “It’s alright, Thal, I’ll stay with you.” You crouch down in front of her. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and safe. I pinky promise.” You offered your pinky to her. She hesitantly hooked your pinky with hers, splitting your lips into a smile.

Oscar called your name, causing you to look up at him with wide eyes. At the sight of your curious doe-eyed expression, he fought off a smile that tried to surface on his face. Half failing, he ended up with a slanted smile. “The lift.” He explained shortly.

The four of you piled in together. Thalia and Theo in the middle while Oscar and yourself occupied the outsides.

Thalia hung onto your ski pants when you got off. Theo and Oscar took off down the mountain, racing each other just as Theo wished. You could tell Oscar was majorly holding back, though.

“You’ve got it, Thal, you’ve done this before.” You reassured her and she gave you a small nod. You kept your pace slow at first, waiting for Thalia to catch up with every movement so you didn’t stray too far away.

But she eventually gained her confidence, and even tried to be faster than you. You let her fly on the skis ahead of you. It was easier to keep an eye on her that way.

At the bottom of the slope stood Oscar and Theo, waiting for the both of you. “So who won?”

“Me!” Theo tried to jump but his skis weighed him down. You turned to Oscar. “Getting beat by a kid? Shame. Better luck next time.” You teased.

Oscar smiled. “He’s just too good.”

Apparently, you and Oscar had been smiling at each other for too long, because Theo gags. “Yuck! Come on I want to beat you again.” Theo urged, leading the group as he walked back to the lift station.

Oscar was quick to follow, then you and Thalia. Thalia called your name once again. “What’s up, hon?” You replied.

Her eyes were trained on Oscar’s backside. “I think Oscar is pretty.” She confessed. You didn’t laugh, only smiled softly at her. “Really? Would you like me to tell him that?”

She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “No. He’s too old for me.” You chuckled.

Later that night, as you’re around the table eating dinner, sat next to Oscar, she tells him for herself.

She came between your chairs, tapping Oscar’s arm twice. He leaned down at her signal for him to come closer. His brows shot up when she told him. “Really? Well thank you. I think you’re a cutie, Thal.” At that, her face flushed a furious shade of red and scurried back to her seat beside her brother.

“Now she’s going to think you have a crush on her.” You whispered in his ear. A chill ran down his spine at the feeling of your breath contacting his bare skin. He tried his best to ignore how it made him feel.

He grinned. “I’m sure she won’t.”

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TUESDAY

She definitely did.

Now Theo and Thalia were attached to Oscar for completely different reasons.

When Thalia saw Oscar the next morning, the first thing she did was compliment him. “I like your hair.” She said from her spot on the couch. Oscar first glanced at you before looking at her. “I just woke up like this.” He brushed it off, smiling.

But the compliments didn’t stop. When you went out again to ski, she insisted on sitting next to him on the lift, and told him, “your goggles are cool.”

They were plain black goggles.

“You have pretty eyes.” During lunch.

Pointing to his plain maroon colored shirt during dinner and saying, “I like your shirt.”

Wedging between the both of you during movie night and telling Oscar he smelt good.

“I like your toothbrush,” while he was getting ready for bed.

Anything she could compliment him on, she did. And it started to freak you out a bit. “Oscar you’ve gotta tell her you’re just friends.” You advised while fluffing up your pillow. “It’s a harmless crush,” he ran a hand through his hair. “She’ll probably be over it by tomorrow.”

You doubted it. “And what if she isn’t?” You threw your pillow on your side of the bed. Oscar laid on his side, raising a brow at you. “Are you jealous of a five year old?” He teased.

You scoffed, sitting cross legged on your side of the bed. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. For one, she’s a five year old and you’re not a pedophile. And for two, we aren’t even together.”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. “If she isn’t over it by tomorrow, then I’ll make it clear that we’re just friends.” He chuckled, shaking his head. He thought it was a little ridiculous that he had to clarify to a five year old that they were just friends.

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WEDNESDAY

Oscar was proved wrong first thing in the morning, because as you and him came out to eat breakfast, Thalia was sitting in your spot. “I told you.” You muttered before taking Thalias empty chair.

Oscar whispered something to Theo, who moved over to take Oscar’s seat right after. You looked to him with furrowed brows, a silent request for an explanation. “Told him I’d buy him whatever candy he wanted at the markets today if he swapped with me.” You laughed loudly, a hand on Oscar’s shoulder to stabilize yourself as you doubled over. “You’ll come to regret that decision.” You forewarned.

On the way to the markets, Thalia tried to convince you to let her sit up front with Oscar. The whole time while telling her no, you were glaring at Oscar. He held back a smile at your fierce looks.

But she won one over you when you arrived at the markets. She clung onto Oscar’s hand like it was her lifeline. “Your daughter is stealing my boyfriend.” You muttered to Lia. She laughed before calling her daughter over to her. Thalia reluctantly listened, latching onto her mother’s hand instead.

You took the five year old’s place next to Oscar. “I suppose we should hold hands then.” He whispered close to your ear, gesturing to the intwined fingers of your relatives. “You know, to keep up the act.” He reasoned.

Though truly, a part of Oscar just may have just wanted to hold your hand for the sake of just holding your hand. No act about it.

You peered up at him, eyes widened slightly. “Uh- well- if you don’t have a problem with it.” Oscar smiled at the way you stumbled over your words.

You appreciated the warmth his hand provided. The December air was biting at you with every small gust of wind that blew through. At a particularly strong gust, you instinctively hid your face in Oscar’s chest. You muttered quick and quiet apologies when you noticed. But he didn’t mind one bit.

Theo ran up to the both of you, holding a remote controlled race car in his hands. “Oscar! Can you get me this?!”

Oscar chucked, kneeling down to be closer to eye level. He kept his hand in yours. “Buddy, I thought I said candy.” He was gentle with the kid, careful of his feelings. Theo frowned. “You did but… but Oscar this car is so cool.” He gave Oscar big puppy eyes, pouting his lips.

Oscar held back his laugh, taking care when sliding the toy from Theo’s grasp. “Do you want the car over the candy?” He asked. Theo nodded. Oscar smiled and stood. “Car it is then.” He tousled the boys hair, whose pout was now replaced by a big toothy smile.

“Thank you uncle Oscar!” Theo wrapped his arms around Oscar’s legs. An attempt at a hug. Oscar rubbed his back. “‘Course, kid.”

Theo ran off, joining his parents and sister at a vendor not too far from where you stood.

But your mind was suck on the title he’d given Oscar. And apparently Oscar was thinking about it too, because he bumped your shoulder and teased, “I’m an uncle now, hm? That wasn’t in the agreement.”

Head bowed, you chuckled nervously. “Sorry,”

Oscar smirked. “Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute.” His hand squeezed yours.

The both of you continued on, hand in hand, straying farther from the family. You stopped at a jewelry booth, a pendant catching your eye. On closer inspection, a small gasp left your lips. “Oh, Oscar, look how pretty.” You held the pendant in your empty hand. A small, flower-like shaped charm, a pretty pink color.

“It suits you.” He smiled, gaze jumping from the pendant to you and back. “Uhm, excuse me?” You called for the seller, an older woman. “How much for this?”

“Three hundred.”

“Three… hundred?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, it’s sterling silver and real diamond, just dyed that pretty pink color.”

You couldn’t justify spending that price, so you politely said, “ah maybe another time.”

Oscar frowned at the disappointment in your expression. Three hundred seemed like nothing to him, but he understood the burden it was to you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of little hands on his. When he looked down, he found Thalia trying to pry his hand from yours. You sighed, and gave him an ‘I told you so’ look. “I’m gonna go take Thalia, and discuss this crush with her.” You whispered close to Oscar’s ear before taking the child and walking off.

Once you were no longer in ear shot, he turned back to the woman. “Excuse me, do you take card?”

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That night at dinner, the conversation made a turn for the worse. Uncle Leni had one two many beers and couldn’t shut his mouth, so when he overheard your conversation, he just had to say something.

Oscar brought up your future, making a light hearted joke about you working in his garage next year. “Do you really think I have a chance? I mean, I did all that interning for McLaren last year and Andrea said he would ‘miss me greatly,’ but that doesn’t guarantee me a job anywhere in the paddock, you know?” You gushed. Oscar smiled at the way your eyes sparked when you spoke with such enthusiasm. He opened his mouth to speak, an encouragement and something about the future on the tip of his tongue.

The words were never spoken.

“I’d be careful with her, boy. She might be using you to get with your boss, and then fuck him for a job.” Leni interrupted. The vulgarity of the accusation had Oscar’s stomach twisting with something vile.

Your expression shaped into a mix of anger and disgust. Oscar watched you cautiously, offering a comforting hand to your knee. You stood abruptly just as his hand made contact. “I’d be careful with that alcohol, Uncle Leni. I think you’re one drink away from liver failure.” You shot back, leaving without letting him get another word in.

Oscar bowed his head, “excuse us,” he said to no one in particular, before turning to your parents and thanking them for the dinner. He cleaned up your plate and his and proceeded to follow you down the hall where you disappeared.

Muffled sobs came from the inside of your shared room. He knocked on the door hesitantly, calling your name in a soft question. “Go away,” your voice broke through your sobs.

But Oscar was persistent. He cared. You couldn’t get rid of him that easily. “I’m coming in.” He said, despite your very clear message.

His footsteps were cautious as he ventured into the room. You were lying on your stomach, sprawled out on the bed, face in a pillow. He was careful when he sat beside you, a hand coming up to rub in comforting circles on your back.

“It’s not fair, Osc.” The use of the nickname spiked his heart rate. He did his best to ignore it, putting his feelings aside for yours. “I know,” he hummed.

Your face emerged from the pillows, eyes already puffy and red. “No you don’t. Because you’re a man and they all love you.”

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.” There was no point in arguing. He knew you were right. “Come here,” he encouraged, arms outstretched and waiting for your arrival. You drug yourself up, into his arms, lying against his chest.

The white shirt quickly became stained with your tears. Oscar didn’t care. He held you close while you cried. “I hate them.” You choked out. “They all think so little of me, have so little faith in me. Like I’m going to be nothing in life.” You clutched onto the white cloth of his t-shirt. “They talk about me like I’m a fucking prostitute.” Oscar ran a hand through your hair, and you snuggled your face closer to his chest.

Oscar tried to think of something comforting to say, but nothing felt quite right. He decided to pull you closer, instead. “I thought with you here they’d stop, but…” you shook your head. “I’m sorry I brought you all the way out here for nothing.”

“No,” Oscar jumped quickly to sooth your worries. “No you didn’t. I’m happy you asked. I’ve had fun here, with you.”

“You don’t mean that,” you tried to push yourself away from him, but Oscar held tighter. “Yes I do. I- on my life,” you struggled against his hold, desperately trying to rid yourself from the restraints that were his arms. “I promise you I meant it.” He urged, muttering the words close to your ear.

You relaxed at that, a palm coming to rest against his chest. Your tears still flowed freely. “And… and I’m so proud of you, too. And I believe in you more than you can even imagine.” He continued, dull nails scratching idly at your scalp.

You weren’t sure if his words were genuine. That didn’t matter. They were words you needed to hear, even if you had not known it until that very moment.

Oscar continued to keep you in his hold. He offered no more attempts to soothe you other than the hand of his that were tangled in the strands of your hair.

The exact timing you’d fallen asleep was unknown to him. He only realized you left consciousness when he stopped feeling your body shake with sobs and when the rhythmic tensing and relaxing of your hand ceased.

Your breathing had become even, too. Which he only took note of after he carefully laid you down in a more comfortable position.

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THURSDAY

You woke up, the clock informing you it was midday. You shot out of bed. The family was meant to go sledding today, and should have left an hour ago.

The floorboards under your feet creaked loudly as you raced to the living room. You froze upon entering. The only person there was Oscar, sat on the couch, only half watching the show on the television.

He turned at the sound of you approaching, and smiled. “Hey,” he greeted, soft and far too intimate for the current dynamic.

“Where is everyone?”

Oscar looked a bit guilty at the question. “Gone. I told them you weren’t feeling well, and we’d be staying here today.”

You nodded, padding over to round the couch. The cushion beside him became occupied by you. “Is that okay?” He asked, head tilted while he searched your eyes for some emotion. You nodded once more. “Didn’t feel up to it anyway.” You confessed. Then after a moment, “Thank you.”

A smile flickered across Oscar’s lips. “No need to thank me.”

You’d spent the day curled up on the couch together, strangely domestic for two people who had no business being so. Only when it was dark outside did Oscar raise any questions. “How long do they plan on being gone?” It was far past dinner time. 9pm to be exact. Oscar and yourself had already ordered and ate food.

Your head, being on his shoulder, tilts up so your eyes could meet. “They’re out at a restaurant, probably.” You shrugged.

Oscar’s eyes drifted to the window, the glittering snow having caught his eye. He had a sudden childish desire to go play in the fluffy white blankets.

So that’s what you did, before your family returned home.

You hid behind a tree with a tightly packed ball of snow held like a delicate jewel in the palm of your hand. The way your heart raced with anticipation sent a rush through you. Your face hurt, not only from the cold but also from the consistent strain of your muscles used to maintain the permanent smile on your face.

The sound of a snowball hitting the other side of the tree made you jump, but the reaction was quickly followed by a laugh. “Come on! I can’t get you if you’re hid behind a tree!” Oscar complained, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then come get me!” You shouted back. The crunch of snow approaching closed caused you to smile harder. He had no idea what was coming for him.

But then it stopped suddenly. Definitely not close enough to be just on the other side. You peaked around the tree. Oscar stood still, his hands moulding a pile of snow. His brows creased in concentration. So much concentration, that he didn’t even hear the packed snow stress under your feet.

Once close enough, you let the snowball fly from the palm of your hand. It landed right on the side of his face. “Hey!” He laughed.

“That was totally on you. It should not take you that long to make one snow ball.” You teased, nearing closer.

Oscar frowned slightly. “It’s not a snowball,” he twisted his palm to face you. “It’s a heart.”

You stood close to him now. A small extension of your arm, and you’d be touching him. You smiled, soft and small. “It’s cute.” His cheeks were flushed with a light pink. Probably from the cold, you thought.

Careful fingers grabbed ahold of your wrist, twisting it so your palm faced the sky. Silently, Oscar transferred his creation from his palm to your. You chuckled. “Quite the romantic.” You teased once more.

“You more than anyone should know just how romantic I am.” Oscar leaned into the fun banter. You shook your head laughing. “Come on, I want some hot chocolate.” He followed you up the porch and into the house, pausing to wait for you to set his creation on the railing of the deck.

Plain white mugs were all that was in the cabinet, so it’s what you used to hold your hot cocoa. Oscar rummaged in the fridge while you blew into the cup, trying to cool it off. The steam continued to roll off it in heaps.

“Found it!” Oscar cheered, surfacing with a can of whipped cream. “Ah, good idea,” You hummed, holding your mug out to him. The spiral he put on top of your cup was nothing short of perfect.

You hopped up on the kitchen island, while Oscar stood beside you. He laughed at you after you’d taken a sip, his cheeks still colored pink despite the warmer environment inside the cabin.

“You’ve got a little—here, I’ll just get it.” He reached up, fingertips grazing your cheek. His thumb slipped across your upper lip, gathering the whipped cream.

His hand pulled back slightly, a smile on his face while he showed you the reason for his actions. You laughed.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, capturing his thumb between your lips. Oscar went red at the feeling of your tongue swiping against the pad of his thumb while your eyes remained on his. The situation far too sensual.

When your brain finally caught up to you, you jumped back. A hand of yours covered your mouth. “Oh my—I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, obviously I wasn’t but—“ your breath hitched, his hand on your thigh.

“Don’t apologize.” His voice came in hushed whispers. His eyes scattered all around your face, settling for a beat too long on your lips.

The both of you were locked in an intense staring contest, wanting the same thing but too scared to be the one to initiate it.

Oscar’s chest heaved, like the moment was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs. Hesitantly, he reached a hand up to your face. It found its home on your cheek. When you didn’t react, his other hand traveled to your other cheek. Still, you did not move, but he did notice the rate of your breaths had sped up.

He was the one to take the risk. His body found its way between your legs, and he pulled your face down to meet his.

The feeling of his lips against yours was familiar. The feeling that bloomed in your stomach was familiar. The heat between your legs, familiar.

He overrode every one of your senses. Tasted sweet, reminiscent of the cocoa and whipped cream. Smelled of cologne, fresh. Like amber wood, orange, and a hint of vanilla. His hands in your hair and settled at the base of your neck were driving you crazy. His hips rut against the counter, and he released a small groan into your mouth.

The sound of the lock on the door caught your ear. Two hands on his chest, you shoved him away. He stumbled back, but quickly understood when your family funneled through the door. Your face was on fire.

“Feeling better, I see?” Your sister smiled, then her eyes shifted to Oscar. “Nice lip gloss.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

FRIDAY

The end of the trip was nearing. It was another relax day in the house, though the kids were far from relaxed. Their giggles were a constant echo through the house along with the patter of their feet.

You’d fallen asleep last night with Oscar’s arms around you, his body moulded perfectly to yours. But when you woke up this morning, the boy was no longer offering the warmth of his body heat to you. In fact, he wasn’t in the bed at all, and the sheets beside you were cold to the touch. He hadn’t been there for awhile.

It was the second day in a row you’d fallen asleep in his arms, and he was no longer there when you woke the next morning.

So it seemed he had a knack for fleeing when things got too intimate.

You swung your legs over the bed. The wooden floors under your feet were as cold as the winter air outside. You quickly shielded yourself with a pair of slippers, and the first hoodie you saw.

Just like yesterday, you found him on the couch. He wasn’t watching one of his shows, but bluey. Your brows were furrowed as you approached. Your eyes answered the question in your mind; Theo and Thalia sat on the carpet in front the television. Theo recklessly drove his new remote controlled car while Thalia played with his hot wheels. A content smile colored Oscar’s expression.

You ruffled his hair, muttering out a, “good morning.” Oscar’s greeting died on the tip of his tongue when he turned his head to find you in his hoodie and tight biker shorts. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. “Morning,” he managed.

The dynamic between you two was different now. A conversation was never held after the events of last night, but the air shifted. An unspoken agreement that you crossed the line as friends but neither of you would dare to venture into the dating territory. You were stuck in a sort of limbo between the two, which meant neither of you knew exactly how to act around the other.

“Oscar, you sound like bluey!” Theo laughed, Thalia joining him. Oscar’s face contorted in amusement, brows raised and a broader smile. “You’ve got a good ear.”

When his eyes searched the room to find you, they landed in the kitchen, the fridge wide open.

You pulled out an avocado, an egg, and a bagel from the pantry. You jumped when you turned around to place them on the island. Oscar was standing with his back to the counter, staring at your every move. “stalker,” you laughed, standing beside him. He remained serious. “We should talk.”

Your body froze. “Where’s the rest of the family?” You asked, gaze focused on the countertop. “Downstairs. Playing pool.” He muttered, a quick glance at the twins. “They’ll be fine for a couple minutes.”

Your eyes met his, an unusual pleading look about them. You nodded. “Yeah. We can step outside.” You motioned towards the back deck.

Out on the deck, you waited for him to speak first, a foot playing with the fluffy white snow to avoid his gaze.

“So… last night,” he began. You shut your eyes, preparing mentally for an awkward conversation. He shook his head, restarting his mini speech. “I’ve tried to move on from you for the last couple of months. It hasn’t really worked and I’ve always had an idea as to why, but last night really solidified it.” His hand on your cheek directed your gaze to his. An uncharacteristically bold move.

His eyes searched yours. For what, you were unsure of. But his gaze burrowed into yours, making you feel light in the head and queasy in the stomach. “I still love you.” He spoke with finality, as if the statement would reign true for the remainder of his life. That’s what it felt like to him.

You gasped out a breath, shaking your head. “It’s not good for us. It didn’t work out. It won’t work out.” Your face, still held in his hands; your eyes, cast anywhere but on him.

He stepped closer. You could feel his body heat now. “It could. You’ll be out of school two months after the season starts, and then you can get a job at McLaren with me-“

“And then I’ll become everything Leni thinks I am.” You interrupted, words quiet.

“No you won’t, because you deserve it. You know it. I know it. Who cares if your drunk, deadbeat uncle thinks otherwise?” You breathed out a laugh, glancing at him for only a moment. “But that’s besides the point. It’ll be just two months with me away and you studying. That’s nothing. We’ve managed longer.”

His pleas were followed by silence, a slight frown, furrowed brows. Wandering eyes landed on the heart-shaped snow ball he carefully crafted for you. “I don’t know,” you spoke, almost too quiet for Oscar to hear.

The small swipe of his thumb against your cheek had your defenses crumbling. “The apartment has felt so empty without you.” He recalled how he continued to look for you in every room, even two weeks after you broke up. A hopeless dream that you’d be standing in the kitchen or sleeping in his bed. Of course, you never were. “Please. Just give me a month.”

The nod came slowly, after a long moment of silence; Oscar’s ears strained for even a breath from you. “A month.” You agreed, a silent pray to whatever god would listen that this wasn’t a horrible mistake.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

SATURDAY

Your last day at the cabin was spent back at the slopes, Oscar and yourself finally being able to break from the kiddie slopes and enjoy the more exhilarating ones. He’d tried to race you, and when you won, claimed that he slowed on purpose. His whole being exposed his lies, though.

The family ended the night on the couch, watching a Christmas movie, though Christmas was long past. Unfortunately for you and Oscar, you were demoted to sitting on the floor since you were the youngest of the adults.

Oscar didn’t mind. Not when you sat with your body pressed against his. Legs across his lap and head resting in the curve of his neck. He kept one of your hands encased in both of his. He wasn’t even sure what the movie was about. His eyes were hardly on the screen, opting to study you out of the corner of his eye. He felt incredibly lucky to be able to call you his again.

He only realized the movie ended when you looked up at him, laughing at how his eyes were already on you. “How was the movie?” You asked him, a soft smile. He absorbed every bit of it he could. “Amazing.”

Before you went to bed, Oscar pulled out a small box from his suitcase. Your back was turned, fluffing the pillow. He called your name softly. The curious look you gave him was just another thing he was sure to store in his brain for safe keeping.

“What’s that?” You hummed, interested. You stood in front of him now, the box within reach. He lifted the lid and presented it to you, earning a small gasp. “Oscar… that’s too much I can’t take that.” You shook your head, a hand pushing the box into his chest. “I bought it for you. No returns.” His nervous laugh filled the gap of your response.

A tentative hand of your reached for the pendant, the ridges of it gliding over your fingers. You bit the inside of your cheek, deciding there was no use in turning the gift away. “Will you put it on me?” He smiled. Nodded.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

JUNE

You began working in Oscar’s garage right out of school. Andrea was sure to pick you up before any team even had the opportunity to approach you.

The relationship between you and Oscar was common knowledge within the garage. Your teammates—the other mechanics—treated you no different, other than the occasional teasing about it.

“We agree that if anything is wrong with the car, we blame her, right?” One of the other mechanics joked, gesturing to you. Laughter rang out over the roaring engines.

Of course, once your family got wind of the news, they had something to say. Leni in particular washed up the achievement to be special treatment since you were dating one of their drivers. It didn’t get to you this time, because Oscar reassured you that it was purely based on your skill. His opinion mattered more than your Uncle’s.

Outside of the world of racing, Oscar treated you like an Angel fallen from heaven. Acting like he existed with the sole purpose to service you. It annoyed you at first until you came to the realization that it was out of love. He communicated his love for you through of acts of service. From then on, you cherished it.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #op81 #f1 angst #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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nana-luvy · 3 months ago

Text

. Because this time is the last time

Installment of the Mine series

warnings: fluff, playboy!Luke, fem!reader, daughter of Athena!reader, swearing

Because you're sick of being this thing he plays with, and confront him on a whim even if it's so unlike you.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your patience had reached its limits, whatever your heart tried to convince you of: you’d had enough. Which was the reason behind your presence on the porch of the Hermes cabin at 8 in the morning, knocking away at the door until someone, anyone, would deign opening it.

Fortunately, it was someone you knew who stood on the other side when the door finally opened, so you wouldn't even have to try and sound fine.

“Travis, where’s Luke ?” you immediately asked, dryly.

“Wow, maybe you can start with hello, sunshine ? It wou-”

“I don’t have time for whatever smart comment you have. Where. Is. Luke ?”

The boy’s lips pursed, suddenly fidgety, more used to your joking, easy-going side, rather than the cold glare you were currently throwing him. So he went straight to the point. “He’s taking a shower,” Travis squeaked, motioning to a door on the side of the cabin.

“Well, that’s perfect,” you muttered, not bothering to thank Travis before pushing past him and into the Hermes cabin, eyebrows practically knitted together. It only took you a few steps before you resumed your banging, on the shower-room door this time, hearing the water shut quickly and steps following closely.

“Stop ba- What the fuck ?!” Luke exclaimed, stumbling back and tightening his grip on the towel barely covering him as the first thing he saw when stepping out was the death glare in your eyes that practically pierced through his head.

“Yeah, exactly my words. Can we talk ?” Your teeth were gritted, face more than obviously displaying upsetting and probably more of those unpleasant feelings, which was far from your usual demeanor, and Luke was fully confused.

“Um, maybe I can change, first ?” he said, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You got one minute before I barge in.”

The rest of the cabin had fallen silent, save for the small whispers of incomprehension running through some confused campers, and they had all reasons to be.

First of all, this display was in nothing resembling anything you’d ever do: you were the cliché, the level-headed daughter of Athena, the wise beyond her years who had a thought behind her every actions, the sympathetic girl that always took care of her younger siblings, who made sure any problem she’d hear of would be quickly resolved; you were the sweet, picture perfect daughter of Athena.

Second of all, your anger seemed to be coming out of nowhere, directed towards one of the last person it should’ve been. Despite your current mood, you were usually a joyful demigod, always trying to lighten the mood and ease the tensions, and despite the hole you currently burned through the door with your eyes where you imagined Luke to be, you were never one to lash out at him. Rather, you’d spend the night throwing him your most genuine smiles, laughter filling your conversations, innocent touches of fingers and not so innocent hands brushing thighs, but never had anyone seen hatred in your gaze when you looked at him, not with the usual obvious heart eyes you saved for him only.

So that was new.

Sure enough by now it had been over the said minute, and you turned to Travis, the boy still trying to gauge what was happening. “Is the room soundproof ?” but you clearly already knew.

“Not really, why ?”

“Great, that’s just great…” you grumbled, hand latching on the doorknob. “Everyone ? Please, sorry, I know it’s early, I’m sorry i barged in,” you started, turning around to look at the campers already eyeing you weirdly, your usual smile plastered on your face. “But I am probably going to make a little noise for the next… 3 minutes or so. So I’d suggest you go and eat breakfast now.”

The tight smile etched on your lips clearly said it was all but a suggestion, fire still burning in your eyes, and except for a few heavy sleepers, the others quickly found an occupation outside the cabin, not wanting to have to deal with whatever would happen, curiosity not enough to risk it.

You quickly spun back to the door, barging into the shower-room and shutting the door loudly behind you. The fire inside you had been burning all night and morning, hence your mediocre manners until then, but now that you stood alone with Luke, your throat felt tight, your resolve wavering at the view of him.

The boy turned around ruffling his hair with a towel to dry it casually, seemingly having recovered from the previous surprise, before throwing you the charming smirk he always used. Always.

“Well hey, what’s got your claws out this early in the morning ? Missed me ?”

“No, really not,” you flatly answered, pursing your lips, feeling tears already gathering in your eyes. No, no no, control yourself. “Or rather yes, but that’s just worse.”

“How is it worse ? Now I’m here.” The laugh in his voice threatened to turn you in a puddle, and at the same time you couldn’t help but find it utterly annoying.

You took a deep breath, hoping to have a structured speech rather than break into screams and blurt out everything on your mind. “That’s the problem, Luke, or at least partly.”

His usually cocky mask vanished for a second, leaving space for the confusion etched on his features, like he couldn’t even understand what you were talking about, and it only deepened your resentment. “I…am not sure I follow here, bunny.”

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me that…” you mumbled to yourself, and his eyebrows frowned when he caught your words. “I… We can’t continue whatever is going on, okay ?” you said, avoiding his gaze purposefully.

“Bunny, I don’t-”

“No. I don’t want to argue, I don’t want to have to explain myself, I just don’t want any of this thing that’s happening, okay ?”

“Uh, not okay ? You can’t just flee like that ?” he instantly replied, annoyance replacing his usual well-crafted mask as he threw the towel on a pile in a corner of the room.

“Why do you care, Luke ? Seriously, why do you care ? It’s not like you ever did before.” You had to give it to him, he was a nice actor, his face contorted in incredulity, a brow quirked up and his mouth slightly open, like he didn’t know what to do. But you could see right through it. “I get it, I was easy: the stupid daughter of Athena, the wise girl who can’t even listen to her intuition when a certain handsome face passes by. And I didn’t care, I was having fun, I could talk to you and you would listen, and I let myself believe it was real. But that’s over, i can’t-” A sob you didn’t even feel coming bubbled up your throat. “I can’t do this, okay ? I like you, you knew it, you played with it. I should’ve listened to them, it was clear you only like the chase, I don’t know why I ever believed I could have more…” You mumbled the last part, looking down at your shoes, the dirt stains on the wet floor where you’d stepped, feeling the tears pushing to come out.

“What- what do you mean ?” His charming smirk had returned, flirty as ever, and this time you couldn't help but see it like a mockery, tinted in contempt. “I don't- I like you too, bunny I- I can't believe I'm having to say it like that…”

“No! You don't get to act like you like me back! You don't get to toy with me anymore, I'm not a yo-yo that's gonna come back with a single pull from you, not this time.” You shut your eyes tight, trying to regain control over the storm that threatened inside of you. “I don't- This is not happening, this is never happening again, got it ?” You tried to keep your voice clear and steady, devoid of the conflicting emotions fighting inside of you. You turned your back to look eventually, stepping towards the door. “This is not a negotiation, I’m just telling you, fine ?”

“Not fine ? Can you maybe let me speak ?” The smile on his face this time was one of pure disbelief and confusion, not exactly getting when had things escalated like that.

“No, you’ve said way enough already. See you around.”

He didn’t have time to catch your wrist or get your attention again before you shut the door behind you, quickly walking out of the cabin and of the whole situation. One you finally stepped foot on the pebbled path right outside the cabins, you let out a shuddering breath, making your way to your own bed and flopping down on it the instant you reached its side, almost knocking your head on the top bunk in the process.

On the bed right over yours, the commotion from your heavy footsteps in the fairly silent cabin got Annabeth out of her reading, eyebrows creasing with a small sigh as she looked over the edge right at you.

“You wanna talk about something…?” she queried, hesitant, not entirely wanting to know but still feeling it might be better to ask.

“No, don’t worry, it’s okay…” you replied, and Annabeth let out a soft sigh of relief. But oh, what a short relief. “You know what, actually I do wanna talk about something.”

The younger girl closed her book reluctantly, putting it away at her side and listening to you. “That fucking jerk-”

“You mean my brother ?”

“I- he’s not your biological brother so whatever. That fucking jerk, I don’t know how I could’ve been so… so blinded !”

“Mmmh, I think I remember you jumping on your bed and saying to anybody that he was ‘so charming and so handsome and so wise’, and then you-”

You cut her off with an annoyed groan, running your hand over your eyes. “Let’s not go there, okay ? It’s just… I’m sorry to say it, I know you love him, but he’s an absolute ass! I mean, his fake humbleness alone should be absolutely annoying, but… it’s like the player behavior is in his veins…” You sighed, defeated. “And I… I fell for it… And then I see him all close and personal with this little b-” you halted, taking a deep breath in, “this other girl. I don’t even know how I persuaded myself it’d be different with me…”

There was an instant of silence, one Annabeth took as her cue to talk. “I don’t th-”

“You know I even yelled at him? That’s not me, I don’t do that, and yet I did, at 9 in the morning inside the Hermes cabin’s shower room-”

“What the hell were you doing in the shower room?”

“-like, what the heck just happened to me, you know ? He’s just… he pushed me to the edge of my patience with his- his-” You searched for your words, hands flying around like it’d help clear your mind when it was so clouded. “His…” You trailed your words, knowing more would only lead to a pathetic voice crack and tears streaming out of your eyes, but you shook your head, decided, sliding your fingers under your lower lashes to brush any escaping tear away. “Nah, no more Luke talk, it’s over. Over. O-ver.”

Annabeth silently climbed down the little ladder on the side of your beds, carefully stepping in front of you, unsure of what to do as you looked so… not like yourself. “It’s… Yeah…” She tentatively pat your shoulder, to try and comfort you in a way so unusual to her, before speaking up again. “Wanna play Risk ?”

You gaze immediately flicked up to meet hers. “You bet i wanna play. I’m gonna hand you your ass, little sister,” you teased, getting up and ruffling her hair with a smug smirk.

Unbeknownst to you, in the Aphrodite cabin, Luke was having a conversation of his own with friends. Well, your friends.

“No, I don’t need honesty, Clarisse, I need ideas,” he sighed, trying to keep his voice level as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Stop trying, Castellan: you had your shot, and you wasted it.”

“But, Riss-” Silena chimed in.

“No, he should leave her alone. Being yelled at wasn’t enough, little hero ?” Her smiled was wicked as she looked up at him, tongue passing over his lips and fire in her eyes. “Maybe I should really drill it in your head…”

“I’d rather not ?”

“You already signed yourself up for my fury the day you talked to her,” Clarisse threatened through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to the boy with a hand on the dagger at her thigh.

“Wow! Can we all, collectively, calm down ?” the other girl intervened, getting between the two with her hands on Clarisse’s shoulders. “Maybe we can just…talk ? In a civilized way ?”

The daughter of ares threw her friend a an annoyed look, rolling her eyes before raising her hands in surrender. “Whatever…”

But the weirdest part was how Luke didn’t even pull out that cocky smirk he plastered on his face with every win, even the smallest; no, instead, he just kept that gloomy annoyed look, and it really confused the two girls —not that Clarisse really cared, she just hoped he’d give her more reason to press her fist to his jaw.

“Soooo… Luke,” Silena continued after a short moment of silence, cabin empty as it was breakfast time. “You needed help with ideas, is that it ?”

The boy let out a gruff groan, hand sliding over his face in discomfort. “Yes. Yes, because I don’t- I don’t know how make her come back to me.”

“Well, you c-”

“You absolute prick! Just leave her alone, she told you to, can’t you understand a simple fucking ‘no’ ?” Clarisse roared immediately, the girl at her side sighing in disbelief as none would let her speak.

“Can you shut up and get lost already ?”

“Wow, incredible, golden boy with his claws out. Does the truth in my words hurt your ego, little hero ? Maybe it’s time you understand that you’re one to play, so go fetch a new toy, yeah ?”

“Clarisse, you don’t wanna go down that slope…” Luke only answered, his anger flaring by the second as they got closer again.

She looked him up and down with a nasty glare. “Can’t believe you managed to make the only good thing in your life run away from you ? Well, weirdly enough, I can believe it,” she taunted, and hurt flashed in the boy’s eyes for a second there, a second Silena caught from the sidelines.

“Stop! My gods, you children, can’t you just use your mind for a second and not get into a dick fight over who deserves her most ? Unbelievable…” the daughter of Aphrodite girl spat, shaking her head in disbelief. “Listen to me. Luke, what do you want from her?”

The tension started to subside, startled by Silena’s unusual reaction, and Luke worked to get his smirk back in place, instantly going back to joking territory.

“You sound like you’re her dad or something, it’s stressing me out.”

“I’m not getting in your game Luke, so you better give me a straight answer or I’m kicking your ass out by the door.”

His hands raised in defense with a soft laugh, though his eyes didn’t carry the same emotion. “I don’t know…” Lies. “I just… I liked how things were before, I guess ?” Lies.

This time, when Clarisse spoke first, her friend could only agree, nodding her head to every word. “Oh-ho, you’re a fun one, aren’t you ? Not happening. You’ve fed her scraps for ages now, we’re not helping you carry on with your bullshit.”

There was turmoil behind Luke’s eyes, and Silena could feel it. Maybe it was her amokinesis, maybe it was just how obvious he might’ve looked, but she knew there was much more.

But she didn’t say anything, only staring right at him, hoping her look alone, heavy as she could muster it, would untie his pursed lips. And it didn’t miss.

The words just tumbled out of his mouth, not even thinking about admitting them. “I lied, I totally lied, okay. I-” Luke ran a nervous hand in his hair, messing up his curls in the process. “I don’t want casual, okay ? That’s enough ?” he said, voice slightly raised in defensiveness, ears turning almost beet red as he tried not to say words burning his lips that he couldn't even start to comprehend.

But while Clarisse was ready to fire back, something about his ‘fucking insolent attitude’, Silena only laughed at her side, feeling how he was trying so hard to tame his emotions right this instant. “Yeah, yeah, that’s enough,” and the teasing lilt in her voice was all but reassuring to Luke. “So you want to… get her back, yeah ?”

“Yeah, that’s very much what I’ve been saying for five minutes.”

“Cut down the sass or she’s not helping,” Clarisse automatically spat, and Silena put a calming hand on her arm.

“It’s fine, Risse. Just take a real look at him and see: he’s just really shy and thinks being defensive is gonna hide anything,” she teased, her sweet gaze tinted in amusement, and Luke could only grit his teeth, knowing it was a lost cause to defend.

The daughter of Aphrodite turned around, going to sit cross-legged on her bed, Clarisse throwing the boy a challenging smile before following her friend, and he waited a second before trailing behind them further into the cabin.

“So…?”

“Ideas, ideas, ideas…” Silena muttered, raking her brain to find anything. Matchmaker at heart, she was thrilled by all the possibilities unfolding in front of her, and could barely hide her excitement at the idea of finally using her talents on her own best friend. “You could take Mr Brunner’s boombox and show up under her window,” she started with a beaming smile. “Or... Or! Write her a serenade and sing it through the aux all around camp so she has to hear it. Or… you can build her a personalized mixtape, that always seems to work…”

The more she spoke, the more Luke’s face fell, absolutely horrified by the thought of any of those 80’s romcom grand gestures. “Uh…”

“Or just talk to her? Just remember to wipe that smirk off your face before you do, it’s infuriating,” Clarisse answered, acting nonchalant as always.

The boy hesitated for a second before replying, eyes darting to the floor beneath his feet. “Except she doesn’t exactly want to talk to me, you made that pretty clear…”

“Huh ? Well, seems like a you problem to me, little hero.”

“You’re a real help, Clarisse.” Luke crossed his arms over his chest, exuding his usual charisma instantly, his eyes narrowing defensively. “You know what, I don’t know why I even asked. I’ll just… Whatever.”

And as he left the cabin with heavy steps, Clarisse sat down next to her friend. “He’s gonna…”

“I hope he doesn’t-" But looking into the eyes of her friend and back to the disappearing figure through the door, Silena pursed her lips. "Yeah no, he’s gonna blow it.”

I. So I can’t help with training, now ?

Yoooooow i like thisss heh

More seriously, it's gonna be about 4 parts, this one, then two ways per chapter, and then the finaleeeee can't wait (i haven't written it yet, i'm that deep into procrastination.)

Hope you liked ittttt now who wants part 2 ?

Love, Nana -

#nana's mind ━☆#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #pjo series #nana's thoughts #luke castellan x you #imagine #fanfiction #charlie bushnell #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke castellan #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #nana's series

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bloodibambiidoll · 7 months ago

Text

What would happen if weird!girl was there during the scene with Hollis instead of Sophia?

(This is based off two asks I got. One about weird!girl finally clapping back & one about her being there during this scene. Also thank you for being so patient with me ik it’s been a while since I posted about them !!) Jealously/possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, mentions of weird!girl & another man in the past, breeding kink 18+

You know it’s absolutely irrational to be as pissed off as you are right now. But watching Hollis bat her spider leg eyelashes and pucker her years full of filler smudged red lips at your fiancé while she leans over the table with her tits pushed out is making you want to rip her head off. At the beginning of you and Rafe’s relationship you probably would’ve ran in the bathroom and cried because you didn’t feel like you were right for him. You’re not that girl anymore. Rafe has given you so much confidence and security that now you’re walking toward them with a smug smile painted on your face. Everyone on the island knows you and Rafe are engaged and if she thinks you’re going to let her walk all over you like some scared little girl she can think the fuck again.

Your platform boots click against the stone floor as you march across the outdoor seating area with a purpose. Rafe’s scotch is clutched tightly in your ringed hand and the cold condensation on the glass is a welcome cool in comparison to the fire in your veins. Your tiny black dress whooshes as you walk, the slight breeze kicking it up just enough to almost show your ass that’s covered in Gucci fishnets. You’re sick and tired of everyone walking all over you. Men scoff at you and look down on Rafe for being with you. Women constantly flirt with him in front of you like you’re not even there and you’re at your limit. You slide your way under your fiancé’s arm and tuck yourself into his side before holding his drink to him.

“Here’s your drink, baby.” You look up at him with a devilish little smirk and he sends you one of those signature Rafe Cameron smirks right back. His eyes flash from your own to your lips to your tits before he grabs the glass from your hand and places a kiss on your temple.

“Aww, who’s this?” Hollis breaks you and Rafe out of your bubble, making you snap your head toward her with a look that could kill.

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff, and push past Rafe so you can get right up in her face. You paint a condescendingly sweet smile on your lips as your eyes roam over her form. It’s obvious her days as resident cougar are numbered, the build up of Botox is starting to make her face look puffy and that lipstick looks awful with her skin tone. She even has a little bit smeared on her teeth and you can tell she’s slightly tipsy.

“Not only have I lived on this island my entire fucking life, I used to fucking take care of your dogs when you and your husband - oops I mean, ex husband used to go on your little vacations.” You cup your hand onto the side of your cheek and lean in even closer to her so you can whisper-yell in her ear. “You know, before you cheated on him so much he couldn’t take it anymore. Such a waste really, he’s such a sweet, handsome man…”

“Excuse me?” Hollis quickly leans back and scoffs, her hand flying to her chest as if you hit her. Her eyes show a flash of hurt before hardening. “You really ought to learn some respect, young lady. I don’t think you realize what kind of pull I have around here. I could ruin you.” Her lips wear a sinister smile that you assume she thinks is threatening but it just makes you laugh.

“No, I think you need to learn some respect, actually.” You return her smile, but yours is far more sinister than anything she could ever muster up because the minute that Stanley Kubrick esc grin stretches across your lips the one on her own drops and she takes a step back. But you just take a step forward, staying inches away from her face while you tilt your head to the side. “Everyone on this goddamn island already can’t stand me. And they all know Rafe Cameron is mine. But only you and I know that Mr. Robison sought comfort in a young, tight, pussy when you first started stepping out on him.”

“You really are and always have been such a vile little girl.” She sneers down at you and you know you hit the exact nerve you were aiming for. “Jealousy really isn’t a cute look, by the way, dear.”

“It’s not jealousy. It’s possession.” Hollis has gradually been taking steps back from you as the conversation has gone on but you close the distance between the two of you so you can lean up and whisper directly in your ear. “Now get the fuck away from my man before I choke you so hard your eyes pop out of your skull.”

“Ugh! You are a psychotic little bitch!” Hollis stomps her red bottom heeled foot onto the ground with a low growl before turning and stomping off.

“Whose acting like a little girl now!” You yell after her with a laugh and it earns you a glare over her shoulder that you return with laughter. You’re still practically cracking up when you turn to face Rafe who is staring down at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You good baby? Thought you’d be proud of me.” You pout and your boyfriend's expression hardens as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body flush against his own.

“Oh, bats. I’m proud of you for standing on business, but…” Rafe's large hand grabs onto the back of your neck as leans down so he can practically growl into your ear. “You have some serious fuckin’ explaining to do. Mr. Robinson, huh? You fuck him?”

“And if I did? That was literally years ago before you ever thought twice about me, I think you’ll live.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance that you know for a fact is going to get your ass handed to you very shortly but if you’re being honest, that’s exactly what you want. It’s been a minute since you got Rafe riled up enough to fuck you until you can’t walk.

“You are so fucked. Car. Now. Start walking.”

“Tell me whose fuckin’ pussy this is.” Rafe has you bent over the arm of your expensive leather couch while his cock pounds deep into your dripping walls and his large palm shoves your face into the cushion below you. He ripped your dress over your head and tore your brand new gucci tights open at the crotch the minute he got you through the door. Your ass is beat red and decorated with welts the shape of his designer belt, your drool is dripping down your chin and your vision is blurry from your mascara running down your eyes. He fucking loves you like this.

“It’s yours! My whole body belongs to you, daddy!” The attitude you had earlier on in the night is starting to slip and you’re getting to the point that all you want is to come on Rafe’s cock as many times as he will allow you to. And so far? He’s been edging you for the last forty minutes.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right. You’re my little whore.” Rafe’s fingers lace through your hair, his nails scratching your scalp as he gathers the strands between his digits and pulls them tight so he can yank your head back. He uses his grip for leverage as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. “Don’t wanna think about any other man touching you. Especially not some old fuck. As far as I’m fuckin’ concerned you were a virgin when we met.”

“Well, I wasn’t even close… Does that make you mad, daddy?” You let out a borderline evil chuckle as you let your tongue lull from your mouth while you look over your shoulder at him. His blue eyes are practically black from how dilated his pupils are, his nostrils are flared, and his lips are set into a snarl. You can’t help it that you love him like this. “Does it just drive you crazy that you’re not the only dick that’s been in this tight little pussy?”

“Shut your bratty little mouth, did I not beat that ass hard enough yet, huh? Do I need to pull out and make you watch me jerk off while I nut all over your dumb little face and leave you with nothing but a mess to clean up?” Rafe’s nails dig deeper into your scalp when his grip on your hair tightens. He pulls your back flush against his chest while his hips plow into yours, his thick cock stretching you out over and over with each thrust.

“What about you, huh?” You lace your arm around Rafe’s neck so you can drag your pointed nails down his skin. “Resident man slut? This all started because you were letting that dumb old bag fawn all over you with her tits in your face.”

Rafe pulls out of you and uses your hips to flip you onto your back. Your legs are dangling over the arm of the couch and your top half is bent flat against the cushion, propping your hips up so your pussy is on display to him. He lands a smack on your sopping wet cunt that verberates through the room and you barely have time to process before he’s dealing you with another one. His broad frame looms over you when he leans down to grip onto your throat and pin you to the plush leather.

“I was just appeasing her cause’ she was offering me a way I could make us more money.” He hits your pussy again before landing harsh smacks on your clit in succession. Rafe’s palm cups your cunt and he uses the heel of it to rub your clit roughly while he squeezes your throat so tight you see stars. He toys with your entrance with his thick fingers and then spreads your juices on his shaft. He pumps himself a few times before slamming back inside of you in one thrust. “You really think I’d ever trade this perfect fuckin’ cunt for anything in the world? You think you can go around talking about fucking men old enough to be your dad in front of me and not expect me to mark my territory? I’m gonna cover you in my fuckin’ cum.”

“Sounds like somebody is jealous.” You lick your lips and smile widely up at him while the hand on your throat makes your vision go fuzzy. The sound that leaves Rafe is near animalistic, he grips onto your thigh with his free hand and pins it to the arm of the couch. It spreads you wide and gives him the perfect view of his thick cock covered in your creamy juices as it slams inside you over and over again.

“It’s not jealousy, it’s possession.” Rafe mocks your words from earlier, his hand nearly cutting off your air supply before letting go and grabbing onto the back of your hair. He uses his grip to yank you up off the cushion and force your head down until you can see where you’re connected. His thrusts never falter as he manhandles you like a ragdoll.

“You see that shit? See your greedy little pussy swallowing my dick like it was made for her? Tell daddy again who owns that shit. Drop the attitude and tell me you’re my fuckin’ whore if you wanna come.”

“I’m your whore! Please let me come!” You whine as you writhe beneath him, your final resolve leaving you when he grabs onto both your wrists, suspending your back off the couch as he uses his grip on you to pull you back to meet his rapid thrusts.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’re my perfect little fuck doll. Mine to use, as I please, when I please.” You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him impossibly deeper and it has him growling and twitching inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and take my fuckin’ cum? Let me put a baby in you so all these bitches really know who you belong to?”

“Yes, fuck! Please give me your cum, wanna make you a daddy!” Rafe lets your body fall back down onto the couch so he can lean over you with his hands on either side of your head as he pumps his hips deep and hard into you. The angle has him hitting deeper than ever and each glide of his hips has his skin rubbing against your throbbing clit.

“Come on my cock, milk that shit, baby.” It’s like your body is programmed to listen to his words because that’s all it takes to have your walls pulsing around him as you gush around his thick shaft. You lean up and bite his chest before sucking hard on his skin, marking your territory. A few more rough thrusts of his hips and Rafe is coming right along with you. “Such a good girl, such a perfect, tight, pussy. Gonna give you a fuckin’ baby.” He babbles as his cock twitches inside of you and fills you with ropes of his cum. When he comes down from his high his body slumps against yours, his huge frame pining you awkwardly to the couch.

“Fuck.” You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and run your nails along his buzzed head. “That was so hot. But, you’re crushing me with your giant fucking body.”

“Yeah? I think you deserve it. I don’t think that was punishment enough for fucking Mr. Robinson before we ever got together.” Rafe groans dramatically as he lets more of his weight crush you.

“Well. I think you’ll be delighted to know that I never fucked him.” You say it in a sing-song tone that has Rafe’s head shooting up and his blue eyes locking with yours. “We just sexted. She found the pics on his phone and lost her shit.”

“Oh! You are such a little shit!” He pushes himself up off the couch and points down at you in mock accusation. “You let me think you fucked him so I would beat your lil’ ass, didn’t you?” Rafe chuckles and your hand flies to your chest while you look up at him with your mouth agape.

“What?!” You gasp. “I would never push your buttons for sexual gain. That would be insane.”

“You are such a fuckin’ brat, ya know that?” Rafe smiles as he pulls you off the couch and against his chest. “I ought to bend you over again, over my knee this time.”

“What was all that about giving me a baby?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he glares down at you. “Was that just horny talk or does somebody have baby fever?”

“You know what?” He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder despite your protests. “I’m gonna spank you till you cry and then fuck you full of my cum until you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”

Tagging mooties & weird!girl lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa @oceandriveab @munson-mjstan @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker @traceymbcm

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

#weird!girl #weird!girl reader #dolly writes #rafe Cameron #Rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe blurb #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

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ravens-two · 3 months ago

Text

PAC: How will 2025 be like

This reading includes:

the general energy of 2025 for you

advice and an affirmation for the year ahead

The extended reading includes:

relationships in 2025

career in 2025

moodboard for 2025

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

Edit// because I somehow messed up and copied the wrong title for this pac 😭😭

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Queen of Wands, Chariot, High Priestess

Tend (maintenance, encouragement, guidance), Unicorn, The Flame

"I drive fast, wind in my hair/ I push you to the limits 'cause I just don't care" - burning desire by lana del rey

Pile 1 your 2025 is certainly fiery. You're done being afraid, you're done always feeling like you can't actually achieve what you want, like you're not good enough. Those times are over, because you're entering 2025 with the intent of actually shaking things up. This year you're going after what you want and it doesn't even matter if you want multiple things because you're moving in multiple directions all at once. It seems like you've finally managed to find a way to keep yourself organized (be it keeping a journal or just using your time in better ways) and that's what allows you to go after so many different things. But, it's always important to remember not to sign up for too many things, pile 1. In the end you're only human and you can't do everything. Choose more intentionally.

With your song of the year being Burning Desire and with you having both the Queen of Wands and the High Priestess you're going to be irresistible this year, pile 1. I'm not sure if this is a glow up appearance wise - like you could be trying a new skincare routine that helps to clear your skin, you might lose or gain weight - or you might be changing up your style, dressing in a way that feels more authentic to who you are, or it could simply be your attitude, you carrying yourself with more confidence and sensuality. No matter what it is, you're definitely magnetic. Other people can't look away from you.

I also see you being filled with energy to dedicate yourself to many things and projects. This might not apply for everyone (at least in the same way) but I also see a lot of creative energy here. This year you might finally want to dedicate yourself to your artistic pursuits/hobbies whatever they may be (drawing, painting, dancing, writing, journaling, knitting, whatever it is). I also see you pursuing knowledge, if that makes sense, you want to try out new things and get more general knowledge - maybe you're reading the classics, watching documentaries, going to concerts.

Another thing that's really getting my attention about this year ahead for you is that you have no fear. Like, absolutely no fear at all. You're willingly to try anything once. I feel like in the past you've always held yourself back (if you have prominent Pluto or Saturn placements this might be even more relevant), and you're just sick and tired of it. You want to free yourself and so you're going into this year with the mentality of trying things, of being brave despite the anxiety and the fear. I'm really proud of you, pile 1.

Your rune for the year is Dagaz. Dagaz is the rune of sunrise and it represents new beginnings. This just continues the theme of empowering yourself and conquering your fears. Dagaz is very much a rune of hope. The night might have been long and dark, but the sun always rises and this year the sun is rising for you. New things, new situations, new people are coming into your life and by the end of the year you'll be a much different person than you were at the beginning of the year. I also see a lot of healing for you this year.

Your affirmation for 2025 is "I love and accept myself". Once again I feel like this ties super well to everything we've talked so far, especially the glowing up and confidence part. By loving and accepting yourself with all your flaws and shortcomings you're helping yourself to grow into a beautiful butterfly.

check out the extended reading on Patreon

Pile 2

Fool, Six of Swords, Six of Pentacles

Oak Tree (power, courage, strength), Bee, The Box

"Well, what we really need is a femininomenon" - femininomenon by chappell roan

Pile 2, you're in for a brand new beginning this year, it almost feels like a reinvention. A bit similar to pile 1, you're also tired of the things that were wearing you down last year (maybe even before that) and you're releasing yourself from them this year. You're letting go of the things that no longer serve you, which is commendable, because it takes so much strength. I see that for some of you this might be about walking away from a relationship(s), from a job or even from a place. With the Fool and the Six of Swords here you could very well be moving homes or even countries. Honestly, the energy for you pile 2 is as if you've always lived inside a box, following strict rules and being a "good girl" [gender neutral] but now you're absolutely done with that. You've decided that it's time to see what's outside the box. What does the world look like without the binds and the comfort of the box? Actually, now that I think about it this could also be very relevant for anyone that's moving out of their parents' house for the first time. It's an experience that's both exhilarating, freeing and terrifying.

No matter what, you're very decided to face things head on. You'll take care of the problems and unexpected complications as they come up. You know you're strong enough to solve these problems, to finally be free. You're going to be your very own femininomenon this year.

This is a huge year of growth for you pile 2, even more than pile 1. I really feel like a lot of people who pick this pile are young people becoming independent for the first time.

Your rune for the year is Tiwaz. Tiwaz is a rune of victory and sacrifice. It's almost saying that you know that things will be hard, you know you're going to have to work hard, sometimes you'll want to give up, but at the end of the day it's worth it because you come out victorious. Honestly, a part of this victory is recognizing how strong and capable you actually are.

Your affirmation for 2025 is "I am in harmony". So, what this tells me is that 2025 might be a bit chaotic for you with these many changes happening so you'll need to find moments of calm and harmony, find a safe ground to touch down when things seem like they might sweep you away. On the other hand, this also feels like you can finally breathe after you finally release yourself from all these problems and restrictions that were weighting down on you so heavily.

check out the extended reading on Patreon

Pile 3

Six of Wands, Ten of Swords, Nine of Swords

Broom (energy, clearing, freshening), Swan, The King

(an instrumental song) - verdes anos by carlos paredes

Pile 3, your energy is very interesting. You're the only pile that got an instrumental song for their song of the year which immediately gave me a vibe of peace and not letting the problems disturb you. By the way, if you've never heard this song I would definitely recommend it - it's by a Portuguese guitar player and the title means Green Years (as in still being green/young). You know, I think that this is a year of giving yourself grace and being gentle with yourself. Not everything will be perfect or go exactly as you dreamed it would, and that's perfectly fine, because in the end you will be okay. I do get this sense that you're already in this mentality and that's where the peace comes from. You have a belief that despite how wrong or how hard things are now it's just inevitable that everything will be fine.

The energy in your tarot cards is nothing if not interesting. There's a lot of anxiety and a sense of loss almost with the Ten and Nine of Swords, but on the other hand you also have victory and recognition with the Six of Wands. For some you this might be referring to some situation where you're taken advantage of, someone steals your work, or maybe it could even be about cheating or a betrayal for some of you. But! But, in the end this thing will work in your favor, maybe your boss notices that your coworker has been taking credit for your work, or maybe you finally recognize that a relationship or friendship wasn't as healthy as you wished it was.

2025 will be a year of clearing energies for you. As much as the Ten of Swords is a betrayal and deep pain, it can also be about the ending of a painful situation (even if that ending might be painful as well). I will also say that after this situation ends and the pain ends, some anxiety might set in because you're not used to being in a good place. You might constantly be looking over your shoulder trying to see where the next bad thing is coming from.

All in all, I think that this year you should focus on taking things slowly and patiently. Don't ever think that something is the end of the world, because there will be a solution for everything. As it is a year of clearing energies you might find yourself losing people or things, remember that no matter how unhealthy those situations might have been it's perfectly normal and healthy to grieve those losses.

Your rune for the year is Gebo. Gebo means gift and it's a rune that talks about exchanging gifts and favors with other people. The Norse people saw it as a way of creating stronger bonds with others, so this year you're being called to ask for help from loved ones. Believe me, this helps your relationships grow and get stronger.

Your affirmation for 2025 is "Everything I need comes to me at the perfect time." Once again you have this idea of solutions (no matter how unexpected) coming when you need them most. This might be a difficult year for you, pile 3, but believe that in the end you'll look back and see how much you've grown and much better your life has gotten.

check out the extended reading on Patreon

Pile 4

Tower, Eight of Swords, Wheel of Fortune

Sage (wisdom, purification, harmony), Golden Egg, The Nectar

"Are we brutal hearts that break the night in two?/'Cause I just want this night with you" - use me (brutal hearts) by diplo

Pile 4 you have a very interesting energy because I got a lot of information just from the photo that represents your pile alone. It seems that summertime will be either the most significant part of the year (like a turning point happening for example) or the happiest part of the year for you. In general, I see a shift in your life, it's like suddenly the world is slightly tilted instead of being straight just like the horizon line isn't straight in your photo.

But let's get into your tarot. The Tower definitely supports this idea of a turning point and a shift in your life. With the Eight of Swords here too, to me it almost feels like you think that things are going to happen in a specific way but then something very unexpected happens and now suddenly your life is completely different. The only "specific" example I'm getting is of someone thinking that they're going to start university studying a specific degree in a specific place, but suddenly the results come out and you didn't get in. Maybe you got in a different place or in a different degree that ends up changing the plans you had until now. No matter what it is in specific, the idea is that suddenly your life isn't going according to plan. For some of you this might either be a big relief or a big disappointment (it will, of course, depend on your circumstances). But more importantly, you should know that this will be for the better. There was something "rotten" in your trajectory and this is like course correction.

Aside from that, I also think that this will be a very important year of self-discovery and healing from past patterns for you. Unlike the figure in the eight of swords that's blindfolded and incapable of seeing, you'll be able to see yourself better. It's like you're more self-aware, both of your flaws and your strengths. Be careful though not to pay too much attention to all your faults and shortcomings because that isn't healthy either and it will definitely hurt you in the long run. As always, moderation is the answer.

No matter what this is a very important year for you because there are a lot of things happening for you - maybe a lot of firsts.

Your rune of the year is Laguz. Laguz is a lake and in general is a rune connected to water. To me this is very funny because the sea is very prominent on the photo for your pile. Laguz though is a card that talks about healing and deep reflection - two things we already touched upon so it confirms their importance this year. But I like this healing side of Laguz for you because it shows that you're recovering from the things and the ailments that have been bothering you (for some of you these might even be physical). Laguz has a rune of water also represents going with the flow, being very fluid and flexible - these are probably very important qualities that you'll be called to embody this year.

Your affirmation for 2025 is "I am willing to change". Pile 4 this is almost funny how in sync your whole reading is (at least up until now). This is confirmation again that there are a lot of changes coming for you this year, but it's also a reminder to remain flexible. Don't get too attached to any outcome, things will work out as they should and you will be fine.

check out the extended reading on Patreon

#pac reading #pick a card #tarot reading #tarot #pick a pile #pac

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akindaflora · 3 months ago

Text

Say it with Conviction

Bangchan (idol) x Reader (Fluff)

Warnings: Thoughts about depression, Insecurities in not being enough, Some kissing and some suggestive themes were mention. Bangchan is called Chan, Channie, and Christopher.

Description: Morning depression hits you hard as you awoke in your lover arm. He finds you crying and he comforts you with words of passion and truth expressing his love for you.

Author note: Hey gang was feeling major morning depression and I just couldn't help but think about Chan and how he might comfort a lover in deep insecurity about their relationship. Instead of mopping I wrote this. Now glad that I did because in a way it did help me feel less alone in my little delusional bubble. Hope this warms you as much as it did me when writing this story. :)

WORD COUNT 2,357

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You have always dealt with deep depression since you could remember. Always sad on days you should be the happiest scared for the start of a new year wondering if worse things will come. But when you got together with Chan, you did your best to hide the sadness away. Afraid he would leave like all the others did when they found you crying over nothing or laying in your bed like the wakening of a funeral.

“You are always sad, why can’t you see the good in the world,”

“You are so self-centered it’s not always about your problems,”

“I can’t take it anymore Y/N it’s your birthday and all you can do is be anxious,”

“You need help and I just can’t be it,”

The phrasing of words from past lovers cut through your heart like a knife. Constantly afraid you were undeserving of love and constantly holding back to show only the best sides of yourself. It had been a problem with most of your relationships. And yet while you tried to build your walls so high only a few ever stood up to the test. Your close friends who'd never let you shut them out and to your surprise Chan.

That was the most surprising thing about your relationship with Chan. Every time you tried to push him away he’d do something unexpected getting a laugh out here and there. Finding the root of the problem before you could even find the words to explain. Even going so far as to wash you when the world was heavy. And he never said a word against it only that you should always feel comfortable talking to him about anything. He made it his purpose that you were to always feel love even if he was miles away. And when you simply needed space to process he would give you it but never stopped at making sure you eat by sending a few deliveries here and there. Sending a bouquet of your favorite flowers with simple love notes that remind you why he loved you.

Even when you felt alone he was always there. Apart of you was afraid that one day he’d wake up and leave. Walk through the door and never speak to you again but every day he found new ways to stay. Planning trips so you always had something to look forward to. Buying matching clothes or jewelry so you’d both have a piece of each other no matter the distance. He always did his best to respect your boundaries and still somehow pushed the limit that you didn’t know could be pushed.

But as you lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat you couldn’t help but to let a few tears slide down your face. If there was one thing Chan was scared of in your relationship it was your tears. “You never make a noise when you're sad, please find me don’t close yourself off, you don’t even have to say a word,” he would say as he would caress your head and hold you like it was all he was ever made to do. And while you wanted to wake him up you didn’t. The voices in your head had been growing these days. Reminding you of all the things he did for you but what did you do for him?

Nothing

The voice ranged deep in your head reminding you of feelings you did your best to talk yourself out of. As if he could sense your sadness in his sleep his hand that rested around you tightened pulling you closer to him, his spirit trying to remind you that you were his everything. Tears fell from your face even more like a damn breaking gushing from your eyes. You thought about getting up to whip your eyes before he woke but you remained frozen in his warmth more afraid to ruin the sleep that he desperately needed. No matter the painful thoughts telling you to leave him before he did. You couldn't, he is everything you could have ever wished for.

With that thought you carefully tilted your head to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep, your heart clenching at your lover. You slowly brought a hand to his face pushing away the wild hair that peaked towards his closed eyes. And softly you fell into a trace slowly running your hands on his nose. Softly touching around the shape of his lips. He slightly shudders at the feeling of your touch and his eyes slowly opening. His hand sleepily looking for your face but his eyes shot open at the feeling of your tears.

“what’s wrong baby,” he said voice groggy with sleep as he turned to face you not letting go of your waist. “did you have a nightmare?” he said whipping the tears from your eyes. You only smiled at him, your morning sadness slipping away at every touch.

“It’s nothing do you want breakfast?” you asked stroking his cheek as his eyes looked at you with worry frowning only a bit at your dismissal of your own emotions. He studied your face looking deep into your eyes searching for whatever may be the cause to make you cry so early in the morning.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you cry, tell me what’s wrong I'd find a way to make winter stop if it made you too cold or hid the sun away if it made you too hot. There is nothing in this world that’ll stop me from caring even about the simplest things that make you cry, tell me please so I can find a way to bring you peace,” he said with urgency. You only smiled quietly at his determination to bring you joy.

“but I'm happy right now see I'm smiling,” you said giving him a light peck to ease his mind. “your the reason I'm smiling now so you have nothing to worry about,” you said running you fingers over his furrowed brow you began to try and leave the bed. Key word tried. Chan didn't let go only pulling you closer. Rubbing softly at your back gliding up and down from your arms as he looked see into your eyes.

“Yeah but I found you crying, why didn’t you wake me what do I always say,” he said but as he started you said the words in sync, “Always find me” him giggling at your joking expression. “it’s nothing to worry about I promise,” you said after he still didn’t let go. He only pulled you in more in response. Your head back to his chest as he caressed your head. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Tightening your arms around his waist.

After what felt like hours only a few seconds he spoke again into your head. “You know when you say it’s nothing, I get afraid that you’ll leave. I’m afraid that I’ll never be your cure anymore,” he said quietly almost in a whisper. If you weren’t so close you’d probably miss it. Your head rose from his chest quickly as you looked into his eyes sternly. “I would never leave you, Chan, if anything I’m more afraid you’ll leave me thinking I’m too much or too little,” you said caressing his head softly. Trying to push away the fear from his mind.

“Is that why you were crying this morning,” he asked quietly. Putting your head back in his chest you sighed. He always found a way to wiggle the truth out of you. You both never being good at hiding from each other. It was always scary how well you both could see each other and how easy it was to confess your darker sides. But yet you never ran from it. If anything it brought you both closer like it did in this moment.

Tracing shapes on his chest you began to whisper out, “I’m afraid I don’t do enough for you,” you said quietly. He remained quiet as if giving you space to explain more as his grip tightened slightly. “You do so much for me love, you give me space when I need it, you buy me flowers and food and you even help me wash when I can’t. I’m afraid all I do is take from you. I’m worried I don’t add up to you,” you said with a bit more courage. He pulled back slightly pulling you both up to sit and look at each other but he didn’t let go. Fear ranged in your eyes as he did so worried that your words had woken him from this dream to a nightmare of reality.

He looked in the distance as if trying to find the words. This is it said the voice in your head he’s gonna finally break up with you.

He took a deep breath before looking at you carefully reaching for your face to rub away the tears that flowed with ease. And he softly kissed your forehead before he spoke.

“My love, you do more for me than you can even see,” he said with determination. “I’m never leaving you if anything you’d leave me. You do so much for me. When I’m sick you take care of me with such care. When I get hurt from practice you force me to rest and even go so far as to find ways to ease my pain. You make me lunches with cute notes that taste only of your love. When it’s my birthday you make me the most beautiful cake and get only the most thoughtful gifts that I don’t even think about. When I’m stressed from work you give me massages that help ease my mind. When I go to bed sometimes I get too excited to sleep because I can’t wait to experience another day with you. You fill my mind even when I dream it’s only about you. You’re so caring and kind and you have these moments of true bliss that I work hard to keep on your face. Hell, even now when you are crying you are more worried about me. You are my everything I'd never leave you.” In between every sentence that left his mouth, you couldn't help but smile gripping onto him as if he disappeared and he did the same looking into your eyes with worry as he said each sentence. But no matter how worried he was there was a fire of determination to prove his love was real and that you were his end game. “if anything I'm trying to find ways to keep you with me forever. I’d plead to the gods just to have you again in another life,” he said again rubbing your cheek as you laughed.

“Your obsessed with me aren’t you,” you said sweetly looking into his eyes. He only nodded smiling at your smile. “Good because I’m just as obsessed with you,” you said back. his smiling deepening as he rushed to take your lips.

“You’re forever mine,” he said in between pecks. You giggled at his possessives. “And your forever mind right,” you asked questioning. He looked at you with slight confusion a small pout. “Say it with conviction,” he said looking into your eyes studying your face as you smiled again, “Your forever mine,” you said this time with just as much determination as him. He smiled as he peck your lips.

“Louder,” he said simply. “say it again but louder,” he said again pleading running through his voice.

“YOUR FOREVER MINE,” you said again. Him slightly wincing at your loudness but he giggled as he pecked your lips again.

“And don’t you dare forget it,” he said going back in for a longer kiss. Deepening as your lips moved. You sighed happily feeling every loving thought every loving touch he tried to tattoo upon your heart your soul.

The kiss grew with urgency to help you remember this moment for the next time that stupid voice was in your head.

He suddenly pulled away but not before pecking the areas of your face. You giggled in response, “Channie” you said softly with giggles still slipping from your lips. He pulled back so he could kiss your lips softly only touch your lip as if stamping his love with approval.

He pulled back again this time picking you up in his arms as he led you to the kitchen. You laughed loudly and slapped his chest softly.

“What are you doing,” you said as he walked looking down at you with a smile.

“Oh nothing just taking the love of my life to the kitchen so we can have breakfast together,” he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your heart beating at his words and looking at his face for any lies or anything foul but as you looked you only found his love for you. You only leaned up kissing his cheek. “And what does the love of my life want to eat,” you said whispering in his ear. His cheeks blushing at your question.

He smirked a little something naughty brewing in his mind, “I’d say you but sadly humans have these things called stomachs and while I think you are more than enough I guess I can settle for some pancakes and maybe if you're keen I can have a little nibble of you,” he said setting you down on the counter. You looked away as a deep blush settled onto your face. Still to this day, you could never understand how he could be so sweet and charming to so devilish in a mere second.

“Christopher,” you said covering your smile as he only laughed kissing the side of your head. “chocolate or blueberry,” he said simply in response pulling your face back to his own smiling face.

“Chocolate,” you said back with your own smile. But as you tried to get off to help with the ingredients he shook his head keeping you there. “Nope not today,” he said rubbing circles on your hips with his thumb. “Today my love gets to sit pretty as I make them breakfast,” Your face forming to protest but he silent you with a kiss that linger only slightly before pecking again.

“If you're really itching to help you sit their and tell me hot I am when I mix the batter,” he said again. You only laughed at him, “your egos so big,” you said looking lovingly into his eyes. He only scoffed, “How could I not be when I get to wake up to the love of my life every morning,” he said inches away from your lips.

You only pushed him away before he could kiss you again, he looked slightly offended at you pushing him away but smiled as you blew him a kiss, “You dork just go make the pancakes and maybe I’ll cheer you on hot stuff,” you said jokingly his smiling winding at your words as he caught your kiss bringing it to his heart.

Oh yeah, you guys were definitely stuck with each other. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After reading notes: hahahaha I hope I didn't fill your delusions too much. But when looking for my own stores to read I can't help but feel a lack of soft Chan moments. He always written as the leader and this tough steam engine that could if you read the feugo like stories. And while I don't disagree with him being this hot dom, I can't help but to crave more of his softer sides that we get to see pop out every once in awhile when he decides to make his presence known in content. I treasure those moments because it reminds me that he still gets to feed into that inner child every so often. I just hope he feels as loved as he does with Y/N in this. Sorry brb gonna go write in my diary about being obsessed with some random Idol that doesn't know I exist. Ha very much feeling spain again. RIP :(: Hope you enjoyed, write again soon.

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang christopher chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x you

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lavender543 · 5 months ago

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Longing - Prologue

Yandere!Knight x (Evil?)Queen!Reader

Synopsis: You are a queen with a not so great reputation. He is your most trusted, and extremely stoic knight. Lets just say you don't know just how much he would do for you. (he's been secretly pining after you for awhile). Warnings: Topics of war, and violence

By many, you were seen as cold, Ruthless, some would even say evil. You were the queen of a large kingdom in the North, with a very widely known reputation for being cutthroat.

Life in the North was not easy by any means. Resources were far and few, and the environment was cold and desolate. For that, you needed to rule with an iron fist in order to protect your people and keep them satisfied. You weren't afraid to use force if that was what was required.

Many would say you were wicked, morally grey, power hungry...the list goes on. You’d like to think of yourself as dedicated.

You were forced from a young age into the role of ruler and spent your whole life preparing to be Queen. It was your life's dedication to rule over your kingdom. You had no living relatives; your family was assassinated during the war.

It was...hard, to say the least.

The only person you could trust during those dark days was yourself, and eventually you learned you could trust him: The Grande knight.

He was originally an orphan brought in by your parents when you were young. They trained him to be a loyal weapon to fight in the war.

It was wrong, and it pained you to see him, similar in age to you, being pushed past his limits.

You sympathized with him in a way. You yourself were forced against your will to be trained in order to become the next ruler; although your training was a lot less physically demanding than his (which is an understatement of what he had to go through).

Despite both of you being terribly busy, there were small moments you both had together as children. They were nothing but a few words in passing, but the interactions meant a lot to two heavily sheltered kids tasked with adult responsibilities.

Your fondest memory was when you had your first real conversation with him. Your only real interaction with him were moments of eye contact before then.

One day, when you were around ten years old, you managed to run away from your etiquette teacher and hid in the royal gardens.

As you ran through the garden, searching for a hiding spot, you spotted a dark figure hidden in a small alcove between two bushes of winter daphne’s. They were one of the only flowers that could survive the cold climates of the north.

You approached the figure, and realized it was him. Without really thinking, you sat beside him. He was huddled, panting heavily as if he had just run a marathon, (he probably was earlier to be honest).

He stared at you, surprise and fear in his eyes, and your ten-year-old brain could only think of giving him a reassuring smile to show you were friendly.

“I see that we had similar thoughts.” you said to the boy, a mischievous grin on your face.

At that, he relaxed slightly, although still staying silent. And you decided it was safe to sit down beside him.

He froze from the action, but didn’t protest.

“I managed to get away from my etiquette teacher, I know I shouldn't say this, but I'm convinced she’s evil. Must be why she doesn’t have any friends.”

You were surprised when you heard a small laugh from him at your words, although it was more like a snort. This only encouraged you to go on.

“Seriously! She was trying to make me put a book on my head! And she always whacks my wrists with a strap if I don't do something right.”

With your casual words, he began to open up, speaking hesitantly at first. He seemed to still be quite nervous.

“My trainer is the same way, evil I mean.”

You giggled at that, and you looked at each other in mutual understanding. You sat together for a while, enjoying each other's company. Talking about whatever came to mind. Eventually you realized you didn't actually know his name. You had only ever heard him be referred to as “the boy,” or terms akin to that.

You looked at him in curiosity.

“Say, I guess I never asked, what is your name?”

His face grew bitter, there was hatred in his eyes, and you were confused by the sudden mood switch.

“Just call me what you want.” He said shortly.

You looked at him in confusion. “Do you not have a name?”

“I may as well not.”

All you could say was “oh” in response.

The mood suddenly got awkward, and you tried to lighten it.

“Well, what would you like your name to be?”

He visibly gave the question some thought and then shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don't know, I've never really thought about it.”

“I see....” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“What name do you like? For me I mean.”

He said suddenly.

You definitely did not expect him to ask that. Looking to him in surprise, you replied: “You want me to choose a name for you?”

He nodded casually, although you did not see the blush creeping up his face. This whole situation was a little odd, but you went along with it, giving it some thought. Finally, you came up with the perfect name.

“Everett.” You said after a long pause.

He looked up to you and smiled shyly.

“It means brave in the old language. I learned the word today from my lessons.”

You continued with excitement.

The boy looked almost bashful from your words, a wide grin making its way on his flushed face.

“It's perfect.’” he said with sincerity.

You stayed like that for a while, but, like all good things, it had to end. Some guards eventually found the two of you, and you had to go your separate ways.

After that, your father restricted you from seeing Everett (you’ve been referring to him as Everett now), so as to prevent any “distractions” as he worded it.

From then on, you didn’t see much of Everett, save for small glances when crossing paths with each other. It was hard seeing him, all bloodied and bruised from training, and not being able to talk to him, or do anything to help him.

Soon days turned into weeks, then months, then years. Your childlike naivety had long since been brushed away to reveal a cold and calculated woman. You were seventeen, and very close to being of age to ascend to the throne. Just in time for the war to begin you had thought bitterly at the time.

The war began when your parents had had enough of neighboring countries cutting off their supply shipments. Your kingdom relied on these shipments for food and necessities. Thus began a war your parents waged.

You hated it. You hated it all, but what could you do? You had no say in any of it, despite your insistent pleading to your father not to start a war. You knew it would only end in loss and destruction.

With everything happening, you wanted desperately for someone to confide in. You searched for Everett, but you hadn't seen him in weeks, it was as if he disappeared. Upon question, you discovered that he was sent into the war to fight on the frontlines.

You were devastated. You felt stupid to not have realized before. That was what all the training was for, why your parents had adopted him in the first place. To create a weapon for this war.

You were so consumed with rage and hopelessness, and all you could do was try to help your parents finish this war. It was all you could do to stop the bloodshed.

The exposure to everything only made you colder, however. You realized that you too had been turned into a weapon, although more in the academic sense. Your parents used your wit and knowledge from your lessons growing up.

Two years in, your kingdom faced few losses, and many victories due to your strategizing. Although it did not stop the assassination of your family. Somehow, some way, the enemy kingdoms found a way in.

This only fueled your rage more. You no longer cared how, but you were going to win the war. And you did.

After four long years, you finally reached total victory.

And with that, you gained the reputation of a tyrant.

Next part: chapter 1

A/N: This is my first story on here yayyy. thank you to anyone who reads and enjoys this! Sorry this chapter is mostly world building, I promise there will be a lot more of Everett in the next part. I might make it in his perspective next chapter as well....we'll see!

#yanderxreader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere male #male yandere #yandere knight #yandere!knight x reader #yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader

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13uswntimagines · 4 months ago

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All In My Head (Alessia Russo X Singer!r)

Part III of the Safe Harbor Universe. Find other parts here

Summary: Being Sick on tour sucks, but that doesn't mean that you want your team to inform your girlfriend. She has her own career to think about. The problem is that honesty is rule number 1 in your relationship.

Warnings: there is mention of a D/s dynamic, but nothing is super explicit. Alessia is referred to as daddy.

Authors note: Yes the ending is a cliffhanger. But this has honestly been in my drafts since like August, so i wanted to put it out. I'm considering a Pt. 2, but it will depend on if people want it. I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the stadium's cool stone wall and twisting the bracelet around your wrist.

Which stadium, you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really. They all looked the same after a while anyway, blurring together in the never-ending cycle of rehearsals, performances, interviews, and meet and greets.

All your life seemed to be was performing and promoting music you weren’t even excited about anymore. It was a nonstop grind filled with late nights and early mornings, with almost no time for your well-being.

You almost wished your girlfriend had implemented a rule that placed a limit on how much you could do. At least that would give you the power to say no.

You did your best.

You squeezed in as many phone calls with your girlfriend, Alessia as you could, but she had her own commitments with the Lionesses as they prepared to defend their European championship.

Most of the time you ended up passing out over FaceTime, and waking up to texts telling you she loved you.

You understood. You both had careers and obligations. You both had to make sacrifices to get to do the things you loved.

It was… intense, but for the most part, you enjoyed it. You loved playing for the fans. You would deal with all the promotional bs just so you could interact with the people who loved your music as much as possible.

They deserved that.

And this tour had been going far better than the ones you had been on before it. You were holding it all together far better than you had in the past.

Or it had been.

It all started with a slight tickle in your throat in the city before last. A whisper of huskiness that went away with a nice steam session and some tea.

It was easy to ignore in the beginning.

Then you played 4 shows back to back last weekend.

By the end of the 3rd show, you knew you were screwed, you could barely muster a horse whisper. Alessia had commented that you sounded like a chain smoker, your first sign that she was seeing through you, but you assured her you would be fine. You even joked that you had enough throat coat and grether's pastilles to turn her off for a year. She let you soothe her worries.

You pushed on, powered my menthol lozenges and Honey, and you made it through the 4th show.

It would have been fine. It shouldn’t have mattered that your ability to make any sound at all was hanging on by a thread. The 5 days off you had should have been enough to set everything right.

Except you didn’t have 5 days off.

It was filled with promotional performances for a new album and interviews about how well it would accompany the movie it was attached to. If someone else asked you about how it felt about the possibility of an Oscar nod, you were going to scream. Or rip all of your hair out or both.

The tickle had turned to hot nails, and nothing - not the steam machine or tea and honey - had the power to soothe it.

You sounded like you were talking through gravel, and your team had been hesitant to even let you go on tonight.

Alessia definitely would not have, if she knew how bad it really was. You started avoiding her two days ago after you couldn’t make it through a sentence without a crack, and you couldn’t continue to blame the low whistle that accompanied every one of your breaths on allergies.

You knew going in that performing tonight wasn’t a great idea, but you refused to let the fans down. There were only 4 shows left. Surely you could make it.

The entire show felt like a battle.

You had to fight for every note. For every breath.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your throat was raw before you even got to the piano set.

It took everything in you to hide the thinness in your voice. To prevent every sound from cracking as you forced each lyric out.

It was…rough to say the least.

But you made it- even if it was only by the skin of your teeth.

You were shot by the time you did your final bow and disappeared backstage. You ignored the cold Gatorade being pressed into your palms, knowing it would only aggravate the glass shards in your throat, and shrugged off Steven and Clint.

You didn’t need their concern, you needed to escape the roaring in your ears. The pounding in your chest.

So you took turn after turn until you were in an abandoned section of hallways.

You sighed, grasping at your throat as you slid down the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead into the rough material of your costume to drown out the pounding in your head. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your head and you groaned.

The sound felt like hot coals in your throat, and it made your chest ache.

You feared that no amount of steam, or tea, or pastilles would stop it this time.

The cold bricks of the stadium felt nice against your skin, leaching the heat from your body, though it did nothing to help the fire in your chest.

A fire that was quickly moving past the gray areas in your agreement with Alessia, and into a place that your daddy would definitely have something to say about.

You were treating your limits with her like a tightrope, carefully toeing the edge. Except with the way you felt, you knew you were about to topple one way or the other.

You ignored the sounds of clicking shoes coming closer, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t see you. That they would leave you be to pull the cracked pieces of yourself back together.

But your team knew better than to leave you to your own devices.

“Y/n?”

You tensed at the soft hand on your shoulders, and the sound of shifting clothing as someone settled on the ground beside you.

“You ok, kid?” Natasha asked softly, running soothing circles on the top of your shoulders.

You let out another breath before you pulled your face from its hiding spot, resting your chin on your knees. “I’m ok. Just wanted some quiet,”

You frowned at the horse whisper that left your lips, and the flair of pain that accompanied it.

Natasha hummed.

She had been part of your team from the beginning, back when you were a dumb 16-year-old, long before Pepper, Tony, Steve and the rest of the crew had joined, and she knew you nearly as well as Alessia did.

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Just some quiet?”

You knew that wasn’t what she was actually asking.

The question went much deeper.

She knew about your… dynamic with Alessia, and she had seen the striker take care of you in various ways. She was asking you what you needed.

You nodded, looking away from her, afraid that she would see through you.

“I needed a minute,” You said, your voice barely a squeak. “It was all too much, and I wanted to be alone before I got pulled into something else,”

She made a low sound at the familiar explanation. “And this has nothing to do with how you sound like you’re gargling rocks?”

You grimaced. “Nothing at all,”

She hummed. “So you’re not in any pain at all?”

“Nope,” You breathed out, the p the only clear part of the word.

“Y/n,” She sighed. “I know you have an… aversion to admitting when you’re not… at the top of your game, but pushing yourself isn’t going to help anything. You don’t have anything to prove here,”

You ran a hand through your hair and rolled your eyes dramatically at her. She chuckled at the action.

“There are only 3 more shows,” You said. “I can make it 3 more shows,”

“And how would Alessia feel if she knew you were going to put your comfort aside for 3 more shows?” Natasha asked softly. “And not just your comfort, your health. You sound like shit,”

You huffed at the mention of your girlfriend, your fingers instinctively finding the braided bracelet that never left your wrist.

You knew how she would feel. You could practically hear what she would say. I expect you to take care of the things that belong to me. I expect you to treat them with respect and give them the love and care they deserve.

“I’ve got it all under control,” You rasped, wincing at the action.

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure you do. Since you have it all under control, you’ll stop ignoring your girlfriend,” She pulled the device out of her back pocket and balanced it on top of your knees. “She’s been blowing up your phone all day. I think she’s worried,”

You stared at the phone, and as if on cue, it buzzed again with a new message.

Alessia was going to be furious with you, and your daddy would be on another level entirely.

She was usually the one to take the reigns when you were set on driving yourself into oblivion for the benefit of everyone else. But she wasn’t here.

You sighed heavily.

You knew that if you told her, she would drop everything. She would move heaven and earth if that was what you needed.

You didn’t want that.

She needed to focus on her game, and that meant that you couldn’t be a distraction. You would not disappoint her. Not when you were so close to finishing.

“She needs to focus,” You mumbled, your voice straining. “She’s gotta impress Sarina to make the team. It’s important,”

“I think you forget that you are also important,” Natasha argued back softly, patting your back before carefully pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to have Pepper cancel the meet and greet. You’re in no shape to meet fans. I should also have her call a doctor, but I already know you’ll fight me on it,”

You frowned. You never sold meet and greet tickets, choosing to instead have your team select fans at each show.

“But-“

She held up her hand before you could argue. “That isn’t up for debate. Get rest tonight, and we’ll assess tomorrow in the morning.”

Your jaw clenched, but you nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her.

“I know the world thinks you’re superhuman, but it’s ok not to be indestructible,” She said, softly. “You need to remember to be Clarke Kent sometimes too. There’s a reason Lois fell in love with him first,”

With that, she walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The silence of the empty hallway wasn’t as welcoming as it had been. It didn’t quiet your thoughts like it had.

Instead, it felt suffocating. Like the walls were closing in on you, trapping you in your misery.

You sighed another painful breath, before you grabbed your phone, reading the top notification, longing not to feel so…alone.

Hey babe, caught the end of your show on a random livestream. Are we still on for our FaceTime tonight?

You let your head fall back, thumping the wall.

Everything in you longed to say yes.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

It was still nice to fantasize about seeing her. About hearing her say ‘Hello my little one,’ with a soft smile that brought out her dimples. If you closed your eyes you could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on the back of your neck, running through the baby hairs that lived there. ‘I’m here, and I’ve got you,’

You let your mind linger there for a long second before you forced your eyes back open.

It took you three tries to type out your reply: sorry darling, I’m super tired. Rain check?

And you paused, your trembling finger over the send button, knowing you shouldn’t send it, but hitting the little blue arrow anyway.

It was awful but necessary.

You let out another long, ragged breath before you forced yourself to your feet and shoved your phone into your pocket, so you didn’t have to see her reply. You leaned heavily on the wall, no longer enjoying how it sucked the warmth from your skin, but using it to stay upright as the entire hallway tilted to the side.

You should go back to your dressing room before Steve sent out a search party. Dealing with Nat was one thing, dealing with the overprotective instincts of Steve, Clint, and Thor was another.

You didn’t have the mental capacity for that, and maybe your dressing room couldn’t make you feel like there was a rope on your lungs, dragging out your soul.

*****

You were not particular about a lot of things when you were on tour. You didn’t care about the size of your hotel room or the cars you were shuttled around in. You didn’t request overly expensive foods or special bubbly waters.

The only thing on your rider that you were very specific about was your dressing room.

It was your sanctuary away from the noise. A place you would spend more time in than your hotel room.

It was important to you that it was always the same. Lit with twinkling fairy lights, the comfy gray couch that followed you on every tour stop standing near the table with your kettle and vocal steamer, and a diffuser already filling the room with the soft scent of lavender and honey.

It filled your lungs the second you stepped through the door, wiping away the burning ache that accompanied every breath for just a second. Reminding you for one fleeting moment of the honeysuckle of Alessia’s favorite shampoo (the reason she picked the essential oil blend to begin with), before the knives returned to your chest.

You rubbed your knuckles over your sternum to quell the feeling, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing into it.

You pressed your nose into the soft gray material, wishing that you had grabbed the bright red sweatshirt you stole from your girlfriend when you last saw her. The smell of her perfume was beginning to fade, but it wasn’t gone yet, and there was a distinct longing in your stomach to be close to her. Even if you were the reason there was any space to begin with.

You could hear your kettle bubbling next to you, and you knew you should make yourself some tea to soothe the sharp edges in your windpipe, but the thought of moving felt like too much.

Instead, you sunk into the couch, your arm dangling off the cushion, your fingers brushing the ugly red carpet.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you didn’t have to look to know who was texting you. Still, the urge to see what she would say was too great for you to ignore it.

It took all of your strength to move your heavy arm to your pocket and pull out your phone. Your fingers fumbled over the screen as you squinted at the device with the eye not pressed into the couch.

The light made the throbbing in your head worse, and the words written on the screen made your lungs constrict.

Ok, my love. Are you sure everything is alright? This is the 3rd time this week.

You could almost hear the worry in her voice. See the suspicion in her blue eyes.

They never failed to see through you. To strip away your exterior and leave you vulnerable and raw beneath them. It never made you feel exposed, even in the beginning when the two of you decided to extend your dynamic beyond your bedroom. Instead, you felt seen and safe.

Sometimes she liked to have to work for your submission. She liked to peel away each layer of you one by one until you were a trembling mess beneath her. Open and vulnerable in a way no one else ever got to see you.

Other times, you gave your submission willingly, stripping off your public persona like a dirty shirt and allowing her to envelop you in her warm comfort.

How much you wanted that. How much you needed it.

It was a desperation that filled your entire being.

Before you could process what you were doing, you had already pressed her contact photo and brought the now-ringing phone to your ear.

You laid the device on the side of your head and let your arm go back to dangling. It was too heavy to hold.

It only rang twice before her voice filled your ears.

“Hey my love,” She said, worry and relief mingling strangely in her tone. “I’m so happy you called me. How are you?”

Her voice washed over you like a soothing wave, like a balm on the sharp edges of your nerves, though it did little to help the fire in your lungs and throat.

You pressed your nose into the couch, pretending that it was her shoulder for just a second. That the honey and lavender surrounding you was her perfume. That she was here.

“Y/n, are you there?” She asked, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

You couldn’t force any sound, beyond a low whistle past your inflamed throat. Your lungs crackled with each breath.

Your inability to make sound didn’t bother you as much as it should have.

“Y/n? Did you butt-dial me?” Alessia asked again, and you could almost feel her running her nails through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “I’m worried,”

The words were said with too much force, not at all the soft murmur your brain had been waiting to hear.

It shook you out of your haze just enough for you to reach up and grab your phone, clicking the decline button too fast.

You let the phone drop to the floor with a low thump as it immediately began to ring again.

Your fingers twitched above the screen, but you didn’t have the strength to reach for it, even as it lit up again with your girlfriend's contact photo.

Well, it was a photo of the two of you. You were curled up in her lap, in one of her blue UNC sweatshirts that were too big, and she was kissing the side of your head.

It had been taken after a particularly grueling day in the studio. It was Alessia’s turn to host team bonding night. You didn’t remember exactly who took the picture, Leah or Lotte, maybe, but it was one of your favorites.

What the camera didn’t catch was that your arms were not in the sleeves. Instead, they were tied with intricate knots behind your back, hidden by the sweatshirt.

It was something the two of you often did, and it was one of her go-to's when you were starting to spiral out of control.

A part of you longed for the feeling of the knots now, and her fingers twisting the soft rope against your skin.

Sure, the weight of your bracelet was nice, but it wasn’t enough.

You let out a wheezing breath that crackled and hurt.

If you asked, she would be here. She would wrap you up and pull you from your free fall.

It took you a long second to remember why you couldn’t have that.

Alessia had a job to do, and you wouldn’t stand in the way of that.

The phone buzzed again against the ugly carpet, the little voicemail icon flashing. You doubted you would be able to resist calling her back if you listened to it.

Still, you had to do something.

So you flicked the screen with one finger, going to your messages, and typing out words that felt fake, even to you.

Sorry, I’m ok. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Love you.

You clicked send before you could overthink it though, or your trembling fingers could betray you and type out the truth. You laid your head back down on the couch, curling into yourself as a painful cough forced its way past your lips.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, shivering before there was a soft knock at the door, and then the little click as it opened.

A part of your brain hoped that it would be Alessia. That she had read your mind and somehow teleported to whatever city you were in.

But the feeling of gentle fingers on the top of your shoulders told you that it wasn’t.

“Y/n?” Natasha asked, very close to your ear, and you blinked up at her.

You didn’t remember closing your eyes.

“Hm?” You hummed, the sound raw and painful.

“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go back to the hotel and you can sleep,” She said, placing a hand under your armpit and guiding you to a sitting position.

The tiny movement had coughs ripping past your lips.

She held you steady with one hand and grabbed you a change of clothes with the other.

“Easy,” She breathed out, carefully unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it from your sweaty skin.

She left you shirtless for a long second as she disappeared into your bathroom, and the cool air of the dressing room felt nice on your overheated skin.

It didn’t bother you. Natasha had seen you in far less clothing than your sports bra and underwear.

She returned only a moment later with a towel, using it to dry you off before she slipped a light blue t-shirt with a foot on the back over your head.

The pants took a little more wiggling, but eventually, she was able to get you out of your costume and into a pair of sweats that were far too big for you.

She slid a pair of Converse onto your feet, scooping up your phone and tucking it into her pocket.

“Let’s get you to the car,” She guided you to stand, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you.

“People?” You asked, leaning more of your weight onto her as she pulled you towards the door.

You missed her eye roll.

Of course, all you were worried about right now was who would see you, and what they would think.

“Not here,” Natasha reassured you gently, opening the door. “Only when we get back to the hotel,”

You made a low, painful sound as she half-carried you into the hallway.

You still had time before you had to pull yourself together.

******

The city lights blurred into a distorted kaleidoscope of colors during the short ride back to the hotel.

The cool glass felt nice against your temple, though it did little to ease the throb in your head or the lava in your throat.

The feeling of eyes watching you for any wavering in your resolve also wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t be sure if it was worry (that you would puke all over the car or pass out), or concern about what the fans would think when you pulled up to the hotel.

The whirring of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out your racing thoughts, but any music was too much for you to handle.

You were drowning.

Every breath hurt, but you didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the anxiety gnawing at you.

You didn’t like to upset people. You didn’t like to disappoint them.

You were a people pleaser to a fault, and this wasn’t the first time you had self-destructed to meet everyone’s expectations.

But at the end of the day, the person you wanted to please most. The person you wanted to not disappoint the most was Alessia. Was your Daddy.

You knew you were failing, but you didn’t know how to stop.

The car came to a stop in front of the hotel far too quickly, and not for the first time, you were thankful that the dark tint kept you hidden from public view.

“Ready, kid?” Steve asked, turning around in the driver's seat to look at you.

You nodded once, reaching forward and grabbing the sunglasses facing the wrong way on his head, and pulled them over your own eyes.

You took a deep breath before Clint opened your door, painting your signature smile across your features.

You didn’t wave when you got out, too focused on keeping yourself upright, as Steve’sarm wrapped around you on one side and Natasha’s did the same on the other.

You felt safe tucked between them, though they did nothing to shield you from shrill screams and cheers that met you as soon as your feet touched the ground. They amplified the pounding behind your eyes, and the way the crowd pressed around you made it even harder to breathe (not that you thought that was possible).

You did try to flash the crowd smiles as Natasha and Steve guided you through, Clint protecting your back, and you were thankful your eyes were hidden, despite it being nighttime.

You never wanted the fans to see the… fakeness. The lie.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the hotel doors slid closed behind you, placing more of your weight on Steve as Natash called the elevator.

“You’re burning up kid,” Steve murmured, shifting to get a better grip around your waist.

You made a low sound, that turned into a full body caught that nearly had you doubling over. “Is that your way of calling me hot Stevie? What would Tony think?”

The words came out garbled, cracking with every syllable as you tried to talk through the coughs.

Steve’s arm tightened around you to keep you upright.

“I think he would say that you are sick,” Steve sighed at the mention of his husband, your publicist, taking more of your weight as another round of coughs wracked you.

You pushed off of him as soon as you could breathe again, even if it felt like sucking air through a straw filled with needles, and swayed your way toward the elevator.

It binged open as soon as you reached it, and you stumbled inside, gripping the metal bar on the back wall for support, and resting your forehead on the cool wall.

You could feel the heat of your skin leaching into the surface, but it did little to quell the pounding in your ears or the feeling like everything was tipping on its head.

Your fingers instinctively found the braided bracelet, running over the soft leather strands.

However, this time, it didn’t ease the bubbling anxiety and fire in your chest.

“We’re almost there, and then you can rest,” Natasha said softly, and you felt both her and Steve’s eyes on you as you leaned further into the wall.

The movement of the elevator was starting to make you nauseous, but you didn’t think you could voice that even if you wanted to. Not with how raw your throat was.

It took you a second to realize the elevator had stopped, and it wasn’t until Natasha gently touched your shoulder that you began to move again.

You let Steve guide you out of the elevator and into the hallway.

Natasha had the door to your suite open before you even got there, and Steve half-carried you to the bed, settling you on the fluffy white comforter.

Your fingers tangled in the expensive sheets as you fought to keep yourself upright.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Natasha asked you softly, kneeling in front of you and carefully undoing your sneakers.

You shook your head slowly, smothering another cough. “Sweatshirt,”

The croaky word hurt as it left your lips, barely audible and surrounded by more lung-crunching coughs.

But they understood, Steve, passing you a bright red sweatshirt from your bag.

You brought it to your face and collapsed back onto the bed, breathing in the perfume that clung to the material.

It burned as it filled your senses, but you could pretend that it soothed the edges of glass in your throat and lungs. You could pretend that it was her taking off your shoes and tucking you in.

You could pretend that it was all ok and that she wasn’t going to be livid when she found out. Not that you were sick, but that you hadn’t told her immediately.

You knew you would take whatever punishment she decided you deserved with no questions. She could be rather creative when she was annoyed with you.

“Let’s get you settled properly,” Natasha said, shifting you on the bed so your head was on the pillows, as Steve moved the covers and tucked them around you. “Rest now, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning,”

You groaned, sending more flames down your airway, rolling over and pressing your face more firmly into the sweatshirt.

You heard the distinctive sound of your phone being plugged in, and the click of the door.

And then you were alone.

More alone than you had been in a very long time.

Even if it was all your own doing, you hadn’t been this disconnected since the beginning of Alessia’s college career, and your first tour with Taylor. The infamous break in your relationship. Even though neither of you had actually experimented with anyone else, and you had texted and called nonstop, you had been hesitant to push too far, to ask for too much.

You blew out a long breath into her sweatshirt, ignoring the little needles that followed the air, eyes fixed on the phone on your bedside.

It buzzed again as if it knew you were thinking about it.

You reached your hand out, pulling it close so you could look at it, but it was still plugged in.

The movement had the screen lighting up with a string of messages. The one at the top made your heart hurt.

Please don’t ignore me, my Little One. I’m worried.

It said, and you could almost hear the inflection in her tone. You could almost see her eyes softening, and feel her fingers brushing your hair behind your ear.

You closed your eyes, pressing more deeply into the sweatshirt under your head.

Your fantasy world was far nicer than the reality you were in, and the universe wouldn’t end if you stayed in it until morning.

********

Your night was… hazy, filled with half-dreams that were increasingly difficult to distinguish from real life. As the morning light crept its way further and further across the ceiling, you leaned into the sweatshirt slowly losing its smell, one eye peeking out to track its progress.

It felt like a timer. A countdown clock on the imagined feelings of soothing hands on your back and whispered reassurance that everything would be okay.

Soon enough the door would open and you would have to be you again. You would have to pretend like each breath you took didn’t feel like a bear was mauling your lungs, and your brain wasn’t a freight train threatening to escape from your skull.

You would have to deal with the incessant buzzing of your phone that had kept you on the edge of real sleep all night.

You would have to face your girlfriend. Your daddy.

You were not looking forward to it. Any of it.

The only thing that you were semi-excited about was watching your girlfriend play, even through a screen. That had been your only saving grace back when she was in college before the two of you got back together, and you knew it would be your only saving grace now.

You sighed, rolling over, the sweatshirt falling from its bunched-up place against your cheek, and reaching for the phone still on the corner of the bed next to you.

It buzzed again as your fingers caught it, and brought it closer so you could see the screen. It was filled with notifications.

Some were from the group thread you shared with your manager, assistant, and publicist. Some were emails from people you were collaborating with.

But the majority were from Alessia.

You couldn’t help but click on the thread.

You knew it was a mistake immediately.

Good morning little one. I’ll have some time if you want to FaceTime before the game. I miss you, and I’m worried. You don’t usually ignore me.

It was like an arrow straight through your heart.

A direct hit to your will.

You swallowed hard, ignoring how badly it burned, and typed out a message.

I miss you too. Good luck today. You’re going to do amazing

You dropped your phone after you hit send, deciding that finding the starting 11 wasn’t important anymore, and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, pulling the comforter more tightly around you despite the sweat breaking out across your chest.

You thought it would help the hollow feeling slowly taking over your insides, or the dull throb that accompanied each breath.

It did not.

You let your eyes slide back closed, deciding that the light hadn’t transversed far enough across the ceiling for you to need to be awake yet. Not when the pull of sleep was so strong, and the comfort of your half dreams was too difficult to resist.

“You know I don't like it when you hide from me,” Alessia’s voice said sternly, as though it was right next to your ear, and you felt fingertips graze your lips.

You didn’t open your eyes. Even amongst the haze that was filling every crack in your brain, you knew she wasn't here. She couldn’t be here. Not when she was back in London about to play some team you couldn’t remember.

“I know,” You rasped out.

The fingers gently pulled at your bottom lip before they circled back towards your cheek, and a thumb brushed across your closed eyelid.

“And you’re still doing it?” She asked, and you felt the air of each word on your ear.

You shook your head, turning it slightly, hoping to feel her nose bump hers. “You need to focus on the important things,”

You didn’t come into contact with her, though you knew you should have with the way you shifted.

“And you are not important to me?” She asked her voice hardening in the way it only did when you were about to receive a punishment.

An involuntary shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes opened automatically.

You sucked in a painful breath, blinking blearily at the face above you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said quietly, even as your eyes darted around, searching for your girlfriend. “It’s 1, so you need to wake up so we can make a decision about tonight,”

“Less?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper when you saw that Natasha was the only other person in the room with you.

Natasha frowned, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “She’s in London, remember? The game against Luxembourg starts soon,”

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. You hadn’t remembered that they were playing Luxembourg.

“She’s starting?”

“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It’s mostly the young ones starting since the over-under is plus 20 for England,”

Your nose scrunched, and you forced yourself to sit up. “She has to play,”

None of this would be worth it if she never touched the field.

“I think Serina is using this as more of an identification camp,” Natasha countered, stepping in to help you sit up. “The girls need rest after doing both the Champions League and regular play these last couple of weeks,”

You grunted though it sounded more like a pained wheeze than a grunt.

Alessia’s schedule had been nearly as insane as your own for the past few months. It was part of the reason you were so… reluctant to bother her with something as trivial as a tickle in your throat.

“Maybe you should take a page out of her book,” Natasha added.

Your nostrils flared immediately at the implication.

Your job was so much less physical than Alessia’s. You didn’t do anything to deserve rest like she did.

The pressure you both face to perform was inherently different.

She didn’t let down millions of people every time she rode the bench. She wouldn’t crush the dreams of thousands of people if she didn’t take the pitch.

But still, you could already hear her argument ringing in your head.

I expect you to care for the things that belong to me as deeply and completely as I do. That includes yourself. Your needs matter, and I will not allow you to disregard them.

“No.” You rasped, none of the bite you meant appearing in the word.

“Yes,” Natasha countered, shifting the pillows behind you before you leaned back. “There is no way you can perform tonight,”

You huffed, and crossed your arms, glaring at the city beyond the large window to the right of the bed. “People paid-“

“To hear you sing. Not hack your way through a set,” Natasha cut you off. “They’ll be more disappointed if you give them a show that’s not your best. Reschedule the last 3, so they’re worth what they paid,”

Your glare only deepened, and your eyebrows pulled very tightly together as you processed what she was saying (taking a few extra minutes to cut through the thick fog in your brain).

You knew she was playing on your sensibility. You thought ticket prices were disgusting, and had fought to lower them as much as you could. You had made your show longer in retaliation, so the fans got what they paid for.

You wouldn’t give them a sub-par show.

You didn’t look at her but nodded once.

“I’ll have Tony write a statement. Do you want to approve it before it goes out?” She asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, your lips pursing.

“We’ll release it then, and I’ll call a doctor so we can get you some real medication,” The redhead continued, ignoring the deep frown pulling at your features.

It wasn’t that you were trying to be difficult. You just knew what would happen the second the people staked outside of your hotel caught sight of a doctor.

But now you felt like you didn’t have a choice, and not in the fun way.

“Fine,” You muttered, a hacking cough following it.

Natasha patted your back until the coughing stopped, and you relaxed back against the pillows. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll have food sent up, you just watch the game and try to get more sleep before the doctor gets here,”

You huffed but didn’t protest as she tucked the blanket tighter around your torso.

“I know you’re unhappy with all of this, but it is what it is, and we need to look after your health too,” She sighed, turning and bustling around the room, flipping on the television to the game and grabbing a mug you hadn't noticed from the dresser by the door. “Drink that, and I’ll be back in a bit,”

You didn’t respond as she placed the mug on the table beside you, and disappeared through the hotel room door with a soft click.

You wanted to groan. To yell. To throw the mug across the room, but you knew it wouldn’t help.

The other part of you wanted your guitar, not that you were sure your fingers were strong enough right now to actually play.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillows.

It wasn’t long before you felt fingers in your hair, though you hadn’t heard the door open again.

You instantly knew who it was, though her perfume was suspiciously missing.

“You look like you got hit by a bus,” She murmured, her breath brushing across your nose.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue, except it was two shades darker than you remembered, the same shade as the old UNC jersey she was wearing.

“I’m fine,” You croaked, the sound pulling a hacking cough from your lungs that burned as it left you.

“Ah yes, because you sound just fine,” She huffed, her nails scratching lazily at your scalp. “You don’t need to hide from me,”

You blinked slowly, and her form shimmered slightly beside you. “‘M not. ‘M right here,”

“Rule one is honesty for a reason,” She countered, her hand pausing. “You’ve not abided by that.”

You swallowed around the glass in your throat at the confirmation of what you already knew, and your eyes closed again as the heavy weight of it settled on your mind.

You had broken the most sacred rule and you were in trouble. It wouldn’t just be a punishment you would have to take. It would be regaining her trust that would take the longest time.

It was a fragile thing, and you had shattered it.

You forced your eyes open again, determined to say something- anything- that would make it better, except when you did, she was gone.

You blinked heavily at the empty bed beside you. The space she had been seconds ago.

You wanted to shake your head, but with the freight train pounding in your skull, you knew that was a terrible idea.

“This is a very different starting eleven for England, but it’s what we expected. The only change of note is that Alessia Russo is unavailable for this game.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the television, flashing the starting lineup for the game.

Natasha said Alessia wasn’t starting, but you expected her to at least be on the bench.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back.

What was the point of suffering alone if Alessia wasn’t even going to play?

You weren’t sure anymore.

******

“I’ve got her,”

You stirred at the familiar voice, and the feeling of gentle fingers running through your hair and the bed shifting next to you. The scent of lavender and honey wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, pulling you closer to consciousness.

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together before your eyes flickered open, meeting the familiar blue of your girlfriend.

“Hey there,” She said softly, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing but a low hacking cough came out.

“Easy, little one,” Alessia shushed you softly. “Just relax. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you now, ok?”

It was painful how real she felt. Painful how much you wanted to believe she was here with you.

“Trouble,” You mumbled, coughing violently afterward, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her hand.

“I think we should make it your middle name since you seem to find it so often,” She murmured, running her hand again through your hair. “But no. You’re not in trouble. Not right now,”

You made a low, wheezing sound, shaking your head, despite the waves of nausea it sent to your stomach. “Real daddy disagrees,”

She frowned. “Real daddy?”

You swallowed hard, forcing words past your stolen vocal cords. “Not here. In Luxembourg. Won’t fool me again,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, her nails dragging against your scalp in the way she knew you loved. “Natasha called me last night, and I got on the flight as soon as I could,”

It took a few extra seconds for her words to filter through the unpleasant haze in your brain. Even then, they didn’t make sense.

Hell, her entire demeanor, including the softness in her features as she looked at you, didn’t make sense.

You explicitly told Natasha not to call her, and you couldn’t process her going against that request. Not when Alessia had a game to play.

“My brain is making you up,” You wheezed after another long second.

She breathed out a half chuckle. “While your brain is brilliant, I wasn’t conjured by it,”

You made a low, husky sound that could only be incredulity.

Her thumb again smoothed the space between your eyebrows. “What will it take for you to believe you’re awake?”

You blinked heavily at her, your shoulders lifting and falling.

She shook her head. “You’re too much,”

“No,” You mumbled, the crease between your eyebrows pushing against her finger. “‘M a good girl,”

“Yes. You are always my good girl, even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” She agreed fondly, leaning down to press a kiss to your too-warm forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here where you wake up, and maybe you’ll actually believe you’re not dreaming,”

“Promise?” you asked. Sounding small, as exhaustion pulled at you.

She hummed. “I promise,”

Her fingers kept their soft rhythm in your hair as your eyes fluttered closed, and you shifted to press your nose into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with each rattling intake from your lungs. It surrounded you, soothing the burning in your chest, and soothing the sharp edges in your throat.

For the first time since the lingering tickle started, you actually felt at peace. You felt calm enough to let yourself truly relax.

It would suck when you woke up and Alessia was gone, but doing anything other than allowing your mind to linger in this delusion felt unbearable.

Instead, you allowed yourself to sink into the overwhelming pull of exhaustion.

And you swore you heard an “always,” before sleep pulled you under.

Even if this alessia didn’t turn out to be real, you trusted her. And as angry as you wanted to be at Natasha and Steve for calling her, you knew she was exactly what you needed.

She always would be, even if she was just made up in your mind.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #safe harbor universe #woso imagine

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anachronismstellar · 4 months ago

Text

I have no other excuse for this besides:

1) Italian YQY is funny as hell and

2) I need to practice some of my Italian or I'll forget everything I've seen in college lmao

So why not enjoy the brainrot? :D

Prompted by this amazing post by @artsarasp and @vodkassassin

TW: Old Master Place being Old Master Palace

----------------------

Yue Qingyuan was a politician true and through, capable of mediating difficult groups of egotistical individuals, his presence imposing enough to demand respect. But there was something about Huan Hua’s Old Palace Master that brought forward his street-smart instincts, a sleaziness that made his teeth ache and the hair on the back of his neck raise up. It was so bad that he had to concentrate on circulating his qi to not lose his mind. Or his patience.

Because if there was one thing that Yue Qingyuan could call himself was patient. But every man had their limits, and Yue Qingyuan was reaching his.

"Besides, you will understand with time, young Sect Leader Yue, these types of border negotiations must be dealt with utmost care. Oh back in my day when-"

And on and on the Old Palace Master went, his voice gritting on Yue Qingyan’s years.

They had been fighting over the border issue for the past five days. It was supposed to be simple, a matter to be solved between head disciples at most, nothing that a simple correction of maps wouldn't solve.

And all this due to a river Huan Hua palace had diverted themselves resulting on them pushing back their own territory. An action they have done without consulting their own maps, creating this entire situation without Cang Qiong Sect knowledge of it, only to whine and complain right after.

This was pointless. A waste of time. He could have been having tea with Xiao Jiu right now or reading the last pile of paperwork Shang-shidi had left on his table. Five days ago. Heavens, he would rather go back to the Ling Xi caves and lock himself there for a month than listen to another hour of this nonsense.

Their departure had already been rescheduled two times. It had gotten to the point which Shang Qinghua had panicked after sending the third bird, arriving at the Huan Hua Palace the day before by sword flying.

He could feel Wei Qingwei stealing glances at him on his right, eyebrows slightly raised, clenching his hands over crossed arms. On his left, Shang Qinghua wasn't fairing any better by the soft vibration coming from under the desk, leg shaking in an anxious tick.

"- And then your Shizun, young Sect Leader Yue, personally had gone there to check it! I remember as if it were yesterday! Oh how beautiful she was, your Peak colors suited her very well! And the nape of her neck, as gracious as a swan-"

Yue Qingyuan had enough.

"Stronzo, porco di merda," Yue Qingyuan let it slip through his clenched teeth, Xuan Su warming up to dangerous levels against his waist. "Testa di cazzo, figlio di puttana," he closed his eyes, doing his best to breathe through his nose, letting it go through his mouth. Even so, not even Wei Qingwei polite cough or Shang Qinghua's squeak was enough to snap him out of the pure wave of rage coming straight from his core.

He had kept himself quiet for far too long if that insolent decrepit man had the audacity to mention his Shizun as if he hadn't acted like a dog in heat every time he wormed himself close to her. Each praise felt dirty, as if the Old Palace Master were dragging tar all over his Shizun's image, perverting her beauty with a sickening smile. Yue Qingyuan could almost see the droll dripping from the scum's mouth.

"Mortacci tua!" he said with a slap on the table, shoulders hunched as he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

"Zhangmen-shixiong-" Wei Qingwei gently took him by his arm, trying to calm him down, his qi rattling Xuan Su to the point of the sword start buzzing inside its sheath.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Old Palace Master demanded with a frown, lips pulled downwards, nasty friendly aura completely forgotten. "Explain yourself! Does Young Sect Leader Yue intent to curse this Master?!"

"Sei proprio un rattuso che dovrebbe andare a farsi nel culo," he said with a smile, ignoring how every single person in the room had their hands on their swords, or how Wei Qingwei seemed to be doing his best (and failing) at holding back his laughter.

Not only curse you, you fucking pervert but also your entire family and ancestors, piece of shi-

"Aiyaaa! Forgive us, Old Master," Shang Qinghua said as he squeezed Yue Qingyuan arm hard enough to make for him to wince. "This lord fears that Zhangmen-shixiong might be going through some type of qi deviation!" and in a proper Shang Qinghua fashion he started to whine, fat tears already gathering at the corner of his eyes. "This lord humbly requests a break so a doctor might check on Sect Leader Yue! This one has never seen him so distressed, please Old Master-"

Yue Qingyuan didn't even have time to blink before Shang Qinghua took him away from the room, screaming for a doctor, not bothering to wait for the Old Palace Master's permission to leave with Wei Qingwei hot on their heels.

"What was that?!" And he knew he had messed up if Shang Qinghua was angry enough to hiss at him. "Yue-shixiong, have you lost your mind?! What if someone could understand what you said-!"

"I did," Wei Qingwei said with a snort, patting Yue Qingyuan on the shoulder, beaming like a proud big brother. "It was amazing and well deserved. That old sac-"

"Shh!" Shang Qinghua hurried to slap both hands over Wei-shidi's mouth, trembling all over. "Have you both lost your minds?! This place ears have ears, so kindly please shut the fuck up. Both of you," and then he threw a glare at Yue Qingyuan so heated it made him turn his face away from his shidi.

"Here is what we are going to do," he said after pulling a face, cleaning his hand over his robes while Wei Qingwei gave him a smug smile. "We are going to take Yue-shixiong to the doctor, and you are going to do your best to pretend to be really sick, do you hear me, Shixiong?"

Yue Qingyuan didn't want to, it felt wrong to pretend to be weak at the heart of their allies/enemies palace, but he trusted Shang Qinghua. He could see by the glint of his eye that he had already though of plan and a contingency one in case the first failed.

"And you," Shang Qinghua turned his glare at Wei Qingwei, lips pulled in an almost snarl, squinting at Wei-shidi while pointing his finger at the swordsman. "You are going to keep your big mouth shut if you want get any closer to a certain sword, do you hear me?!"

Yue Qingyuan wasn't stupid or frigid as bad tongues might say. He knew very well what Shang-shidi was insinuating, so he did his best to stare at the ceiling, doing his best to ignore the way Wei-shidi was almost giggling at Shang Qinghua.

"Of course, shidi~"

It could have gone worse, Yue Qingyuan though to himself as Shang Qinghua dragged him all the way to the medical wing of Huan Hua Palace. It could have gone way worse. Thank Heavens he had requested Wei-shidi to accompany him instead of Xiao Jiu. That would have ended up with the Old Master Palace with a dagger on his throat for sure.

And it would be well deserved. Porco matusa.

----------------------

YQY: *can't hold together anymore* SQH: SHIXIONG NO- WQW: GO SHIXIONG!! GO APESHIT GOOO!!!

this was so SO fun ashdfuahsdufahsudf and yes I've sprinkled a little bit of 12/12 SQH over it, I couldn't help it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I Airplane this so hard I didn't check what we know about YQY's Shizun but she is a boss woman now. An awesome lady because I said so lol

Now, to the Italian part,,,, I haven't studied Italian since?? 2019?? I'm very very rusty, and these are mostly curse words but please let me know if I said something weird OTZ

Stronzo: Shit, in this case "you piece of shit"

porco di merda: porco means pig, di merda means shitty, together it becomes shitty pig or fucking pig

Testa di cazzo: dickhead :D

Figlio di puttana: son of a bitch/son of a whore

Mortacci tua: .... This is a tricky one! From my sources (aka my Italian speaking friend) it's like YQY was cursing OMP entire family, including his ancestors in a really reaaaally rude way.

Sei proprio un rattuso che dovrebbe andare a farsi nel culo: "you are a real pervert old man and you should kindly go fuck yourself" we love a really passive agressive sect leader Xiao Jiu would be proud

porco matusa: again, porco means pig, and matusa comes from Methuselah which is the oooooold dude from the bible. idk if this one is right, but I wanted to call OPM an old pig lol

I hope you guys had as much fun as I did writing this and searching for Italian cuss words :D

And Long Live Italian YQY, may he finally go off and bite many people's heads like he deserves

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #yue qingyuan #wei qingwei #shang qinghua #svsss fanfic #italian yqy #LET IT OUT YQY #YOU DESERVE ITT #now off to queue it goes and I'm out to bed lol

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celestie0 · 6 months ago

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hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

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awesumsaus · 1 year ago

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cave

wc: 6.5k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

part two of pretty when I cry

summary: Ever the man of his word, your boyfriend Joel finally fulfills your need to have him claim that secret little part of you.

a/n: welcome back besties. thank you so much to everyone that checked out part one, I seriously can’t believe the response it’s gotten. again please heed the warnings and skip of you don’t think this is for you. otherwise hope y’all enjoy my absolutely depraved writing

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, very needy/emotional reader, joel can pick reader up (I’m convinced this man could lift anyone), smut smut smut literal porn (ok a TINY bit of plot), established relationship, age gap (not really mentioned in this one), so much daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, tiny bit of degradation kink, whole lot of praise kink, joel tummy™️, spanking, unprotected pinv, oral (m receiving), plug use, ass eating (brief), anal sex, subspace, joel is still a consent king, fluffy aftercare (these bitches are in love)

It wasn’t until two weeks later that either of you brought it up. You’d been thinking about it, that morning, admittedly far too often. The way his fingers and tongue explored the very hidden spots of your body, pushed the limit of what you can and can’t handle. But you couldn’t ask him, couldn’t be the first one to bring it up. It was the game the two of you played, you being far too shy to voice this filthy little need, and Joel far too teasing to give it up without you asking.

But it was becoming unbearable, thoughts of him arising at the most inopportune times, whether that be when you were laying in bed at home, alone while Joel was working a double shift, or at work when there were millions of other tasks you should be focusing on, but all you could think about was your boyfriend finally claiming that secret little part of you.

And so tonight you’d decided to put an end to your suffering, devising your own little plan to set things in motion, one that you were comfortable with, and that you knew Joel wouldn’t object to.

The two of you were getting ready, having made plans to meet Joel’s brother for dinner at 7. It was already 6:30 by the time you finished your hair, still dressed in nothing but one of Joel’s t-shirts and a lacy thong. Usually, your lateness was just a result of you losing track of time, trying to tame flyaways, or pausing to belt out one of the songs that came up on your playlist. Little did Joel know that this time around you were stalling, working up the courage to present him with your latest purchase.

You glance over to the open vanity drawer, and a tinge of excitement spreads up your spine when you see it. A small thing, silver all except for the red heart-shaped jewel at the end of it. You reach for it, the metal cold against your fingertips, a contrast to the heat that spreads up your neck at the thought of what comes next.

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you exit the bathroom to see Joel, fully dressed and rummaging through one of his dresser drawers. The way the fabric of his dark green sweater stretches around his broad shoulders makes your stomach flip.

You pad over to him, hands held behind your back, clearing your throat and he turns. He immediately registers the hesitance in your movements. “I um- I got you something.” You look up at him through your lashes, putting on your most innocent guise.

“S’ that right?” He quirks an eyebrow, already holding back a smirk. His focus turns to his wrist, snapping in place the silver band of the watch you’d gifted him this past Christmas. It was a simple thing, nothing too fancy. You would’ve gotten him something nicer, something more high-end, but the year-end bonus you’d been hoping for never came. Still, Joel insisted that it was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, bullshit, but it still put a smile on your face whenever he wore it.

“You promise you won’t laugh?” His smirk widens.

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise!” You frown at him before giving his chest a little shove, but he’s quick to respond, grabbing your wrist and pulling, closing the space between you.

“Promise.” You say it softer this time, looking up at him, ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clench from how far you have to bend your neck just to meet his gaze.

“I promise.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, his expression softening. “I won’t laugh.”

And he doesn’t. In fact, his smirk falls completely when you reveal what’s in your free hand, extending your palm to him. He takes it from you, turning it over in his fingers, something darkens in his eyes.

“Dirty little girl,” he says under his breath, his attention still focused on the small metal plug in his hand. He turns away from you for only a moment to grab his phone from the dresser.

“What are you doing?”

“Textin’ Tommy that we’re gonna be late,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No wait, I’ll be quick. I’m almost ready-“

“Uh-uh, baby.” He takes exacting steps towards you, forcing you to retreat backward, nearly falling over when your calves meet the edge of his bed. “Not goin’ anywhere yet.” He swiftly turns you, manhandling you against his chest, and dips his mouth to your ear. “Bend over.”

A shiver runs down your spine, yet you can’t ignore the heat continuing to spread across your face. “R-right now? Joel, are you serious?”

“You bet I am.” His hand comes down with a firm slap to your ass and you gasp, the arm he’s looped around your midsection keeping you from falling forward onto the bed. Wet drips from your core when he does the same to the other side. “Thought you were gonna get away with this, baby? F’ you’re gonna act like a fucking whore, I’m gonna treat you like one. Bend over.”

You shudder slightly at his words, but do as he says, slowly lowering your upper half, whining when he pushes you the last few inches, your brain already gone fuzzy from the roughness of his movements. A part of you expected this, knew that Joel wouldn’t accept your gift and just move on with the rest of the night. So it’s no surprise that when he pulls your thong to the side, your pussy is already glistening with slick.

“Jesus, baby,” he lets out a breath behind you, running his knuckles along your seam making you shiver. “Always so fucking wet, so ready f’ me.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you sigh against the mattress, rocking your lower half back, seeking friction.

Joel lets out a strangled grunt from behind you, one hand squeezing your ass cheek. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin you right then and there, but he restrains himself, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t make it out the front door if he gave in.

You suck in a breath when the cold metal presses against your cunt, slipping through your folds with ease, gathering slick. “Gonna be able to behave yourself at dinner, baby? Don’t want Tommy gettin’ suspicious.”

You whimper slightly as the tip presses into the cleft of your ass, squirming at the action and the almost belittling tone of his voice. “Don’t want him to know how much of a goddamn slut you are for me, huh?” He delivers another stinging slap just as the plug breaches your tight hole. “Answer me.”

“I-I’ll behave!” The words tumble from your mouth. “I’ll be good, daddy- p-promise.”

“I know, baby. Always such a good girl f’ me.” His words are so dizzying you don’t even realize that he’s fitted the plug completely inside of you until his knuckles graze your ass. It’s not what you had expected, not painful or uncomfortable in any way. It feels good, being this full, the slight stretch making your lower half shake with anticipation.

“That feel okay, pretty girl?” His voice softens the same way it always does when he’s checking in with you.

“Mhm,” you nod against the mattress, a content smile spread across your face.

“Good. Now go get dressed ‘fore Tommy starts askin’ questions.”

He plants one last slap on your bottom, softer than the others, but the way it reverberates across your skin and through the toy now deep inside you makes you gasp, your senses now on high alert. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

You make it through the better part of dinner without any slip-ups, just a regular evening with your boyfriend and his brother who you’ve come to befriend over your time knowing him.

You’re barely paying attention, focused on the story Tommy is telling when Joel curves a finger through the back loop of your jeans and pulls. You choke on your water at the sudden feeling, the seam of your jeans digging into you, pressing tightly against the toy you’d nearly forgotten about at this point. Something white-hot shoots up your spine and settles in your lower belly. Tommy pauses and shoots you a worried look as you cough unexpectedly, obviously unaware of Joel’s actions. You notice Joel holding back a smirk from the corner of your eye.

“Woah- hey, ya alright darlin’?” Tommy asks, looking to Joel who’s started patting your back softly, a forced expression of concern written across his features. It takes everything in you not to slap the look right off his face then and there.

“I’m fine, yeah- sorry.” You try to ignore the obvious blush spreading across your cheeks, still attempting to catch your breath while also fighting against the growing heat pulsing through your core.

“You sure, honey? You’re all flushed,” Joel says.

“Said I’m fine,” you almost snap at Joel, immediately regretting your tone when he shoots you a warning look, a brow raised as if daring you to continue.

“Sorry, Tommy.” You turn to the younger Miller, disregarding the way Joel’s palm has started kneading the flesh of your lower back, only making your head spin more. “Please go on. I’m alright.” He looks between the two of you a bit hesitantly for only a moment before continuing his story.

And suddenly it’s all you can think about, the feeling of the plug pressing into your most sensitive spots, the fullness of it all, only made worse by Joel’s continuous teasing, his seemingly harmless touching.

When you finally make it to Joel’s truck after bidding Tommy goodnight, you’re an absolute mess. Practically soaked through your panties, squirming against the leather of your seat. And Joel knows, revels in it, confirmed by the shit-eating grin he exhibits the entire ride home, while his hand softly grips the plushness of your thigh, only deepening your need.

You’re on him as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door, clawing at his chest, a rabid little thing. He appeases you almost instinctively, pushing you against the opposite wall and pinning your wrists by your head as he roughly presses his mouth to yours. You writhe against his grip, whimpering when he takes his free hand to angle your jaw upward, giving his tongue access to plunge deep into your mouth. You hook a leg around his waist, grinding against his thigh, and finally, a tiny ounce of your ache dissipates.

But just as quickly as it started, Joel removes himself from you, turning away and walking into the living room. He plops down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaning back against the cushions. The look on his face is maddening, cocky son of a bitch.

“C’mere,” he says from his seat on the couch, his legs spread wide. If you weren’t so painfully desperate you’d refuse him for being so smug, but luckily for Joel, you need him about as much as you need air to breathe in this moment.

You can’t help but eye the growing tightness in his jeans as you approach him, the sight making you a little dizzy in your movements. He stops you when you attempt to straddle him, placing a hand firmly on your lower belly, and looking up at you with a devilish smile. He toys with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. Off. It’s all the command you need before crossing your arms over your body and lifting the fabric from your torso.

Your shirt’s not even pulled over your head before his deft fingers are unbuttoning your pants and tugging them along with your panties down to your ankles. He leans forward, gripping your calf, and helps you step out of them, popping your shoes off in the process, and quickly tosses your clothes aside. His hand travels up your leg, sending goosebumps across your bare skin. A small yelp escapes your lips when he pulls you onto his lap by the back of your thigh, but you quickly melt into him as your knees sink into the couch on either side of him.

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you shiver. “So sensitive, baby,” he tsks. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks from your desperation. It was pathetic really, how much you need him in this moment, how much your body craved even his lightest touch. It was pathetic really, how much of your need now dripped onto his still-clothed crotch, soaking through the material.

His hands move to cup your tits, thumbing your already peaked nipples through the thin fabric before expertly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed Joel is, a stark contrast to your naked form, yet the image sends another wave of slick weeping from your core. You allow your head to fall forward onto his shoulder, mouthing at his sweater to muffle your cries, when he tweaks one of your nipples between his fingers.

“Sh, I know. I’ve got you, little one.” He continues his slow torment, smoothing his hands along your bare skin, his smirk growing with each of your whines and whimpers. You’re like putty in his hands, completely at his mercy, a plaything for him to do with what he pleases. Your breath hitches when his hands travel to your ass, two of his fingers pressing lightly against the now exposed plug, sending a jolt through your whole body.

He brings his mouth to your ear, nips at it, before whispering “You want me to fuck you here, baby?“ He says it like a secret, only for the two of you to ever hear. That’s when everything starts to ache, the feeling in your lower belly so warm and unfurling, that you fear you may start sobbing if he doesn’t end his teasing soon.

“Please, daddy.” You sniffle into the spot connecting his neck and shoulder. “Want it so bad, please.”

“Such good manners, baby.” One of his hands slides up your back to the nape of your neck where he grips you, pulling you back to meet his gaze. “M’ gonna give you what you want, sweet girl.” Your heart rate quickens, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“But not tonight.”

And just like that your heart sinks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at his sudden declination. You’d feel foolish for it, overly emotional if it wasn’t Joel’s lap you were sitting on. He knows how you get, how reactive you can be, especially when you have your heart set on something. You shake your head and lean away from him, your eyes casting down to your lap, shame beginning to bubble in your chest. You have the sudden urge to cover yourself, wrapping your arms around your chest, a little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s your fault, that you’d done something wrong to make him deny you, deny himself, of this.

“Hey,” he says it so so softly. His hands run up and down your biceps, as if he’s attempting to pull your focus from the insecurities he knows are settling in your brain “I’m not doing this to punish you, understand?” You sniffle again, a tear threatens to fall from your lower lashes.

“Look at me,” he says sternly. You reluctantly meet his gaze. “Tell me you understand.”

You want to shake your head no, want to beg him to change his mind, whine and pout until he gives you what you want, but as much as you know Joel’s a man of his word, you also know he’s nearly impossible to sway once his mind is made up.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

He gives you a moment to collect yourself, thumbing your tears away and pulling you back against his chest. You unwrap your arms from yourself, instead latching them around Joel’s neck. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. Just gotta have some patience. Want this to be good for you.” He rubs your back soothingly, kissing your temple. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your lips at his words, because you like the hurt. Like being subject to his each and every desire, surrendered entirely to his control. Joel knows this, knew this from the first time you’d slipped and called him daddy while he fucked you into his kitchen counter, knew this when the next morning he caught you in his bathroom mirror, smiling at the finger-shaped bruises burgeoning across the flesh of your hips.

Joel knows you like the hurt, and part of him can’t deny how utterly irresistible he finds you when you beg him to push just a little further, to be a little rougher. But he also knows where to draw the line, never inflicting enough pain to outweigh the pleasure he brings you. He’s had experience with establishing this limit, but never in past relationships had he found anyone to be as persistent as you, as stubborn, as needy. And though it isn’t always obvious, he needs you just the same. It’s what frustrates him the most, not your neediness, but the way in which it clouds his judgement, makes him forget how fragile you can be. So he wouldn’t, not tonight, not until he’s certain you won’t break.

“Poor baby,” he coos when you grind down on his bulge, the rough fabric against your soft folds making you gasp. “I know you’re not used to being told no, huh?”

You let out a squeaking whine when you feel the rough skin of his hand cup the entirety of your sex. You instinctively buck into his touch.

“You want daddy to take care ‘a this for you?”

“Mhm, please,” nodding your head against his chest. You almost cry when the pad of his finger finds your clit, swiping two delicate circles before pulling away.

“Sh sh, I’ve got you, honey.” He lifts you slightly off his lap, a strangled sound erupting from your throat at the loss of contact, but he makes quick work with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hardened cock, red and pulsing in his grip.

“Come sit on daddy’s cock, baby.” His eyes glass over as he pumps his length once, twice before urging you forward. He taps the wide tip against your clit a few times and you swear you could come just from that before he’s lining up with your entrance, coating himself with your slick.

He lets you go at your own pace, loosening his grip on your waist as you begin to sink down on him, inch by inch. He’d usually stretch you first, make you come around his fingers once or twice before letting you take him in his entirety. But not tonight, not with the steady flow of slick that’s been gushing from your heat all night.

You shudder once he’s fully sheathed inside you, your clit twitching against his pelvis. He lets you adjust, squirm a bit in his lap, before he’s bucking up into you, a bit of his own impatience beginning to show.

As much as you’ve needed Joel all night, you know his teasing has had its own effect on him. He’s been itching to be inside you since the moment you presented him with your little gift, it was all he could think about the entire evening, so it comes as no surprise that his movements quickly grow hurried. He fucks up into you at a frantic pace, meeting your little bounces with increasing force.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The combination of his cock pumping deep inside you and the toy sitting snug inside your asshole. It’s overwhelming, nerve endings you didn’t even know existed now buzzing within you. It’s only mere minutes before you’re clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

“Little cunt’s huggin’ me so tight, baby,” Joel pants, his movements stuttering.

“Daddy-“ you gasp, “m’ ngh m’ gonna cum.”

“Fuck- that’s it baby,” he babbles, his fingers move to messily rub your clit. “That’s it pretty girl. Want you to cum on my cock then I’ll fill you up, yeah? So fucking full, baby. C’mon, cum for daddy.”

Your entire body convulses against him as you reach your peak, strings of curses and incoherent sounds slipping between your lips. Everything turns white behind your eyes, every inch of your skin on fire. He only fucks you harder, rubs his fingers against your clit faster. You don’t even realize you’re on the cusp of a second orgasm until he’s pressing his free hand against the heart-shaped jewel still sticking out of your ass, hitting something deep inside of you. Then you’re crashing down once more, sobbing as your grip tightens around his neck, completely enraptured in the feeling as he fucks up into you.

“Good fuckin’ girl-“ a groan sounds from deep within his chest, a few more bucks of his hips before he cums, spilling into you with a slew of grunts and unintelligible praises. He only lets up once you’ve milked him dry, a combination of both your releases coating his length and further soaking his jeans.

Joel comes back to earth first after he’s caught his breath and carefully pulled out of you. He stands and rids himself of his damp clothes, now just as bare you are, before wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you from the couch.

Later, after you’re both showered and Joel makes you a cup of your favorite tea, the two of you lay in bed, your head resting against his chest, tracing a finger along the broad expanse of him. You’ve committed just about every mark and freckle to memory by now from this exact spot. His hand lazily runs up and down your spine, as you mull over where things will go from here.

A week. You talked him into a week. A week of doing exactly as he says, with no attempting to convince him otherwise. You’ll wear the plug when he tells you to, for as long as he tells you to. A week and then he’ll divulge that secret little part of you that he’s yet to claim.

Joel lasts till Thursday.

He’s done for the moment he arrives home from work to you sprawled across his bed, book in hand, with nothing on but a tight-fitting t-shirt and a barely-there thong. You knew what you were doing, knew it was exactly what Joel told you not to do, tempting him to go back on his word and cave. You notice his eyes darken the moment he enters the bedroom, his gaze falling to the red heart poking through the fabric of your panties. The same one he stuffed inside you before sending you off to work this morning, the one you were sorely reminded of every time you shifted too quickly in your desk chair.

“Hey baby,” you smile sweetly at him. You swear you hear him grumble as he makes his way to the closet, pulling his sweaty work shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. You mark your page and set your book aside before stretching out across the comforter like a cat in the sun. The muscles in Joel’s shoulders tense when a soft sigh slips from your lips.

You nearly skip over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection before he has the chance to pull on a clean shirt. He lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of your small fingers splaying across his bare stomach.

“How was your day?” you ask, pressing against him more firmly, your head resting below his shoulder blades.

“Fine,” he responds, his tone suspecting. You feel his breath catch as you press small kisses to his spine.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today,” your voice goes softer, a hidden plea behind your words.

“S’ that right?” His severity wanes, an opening.

“Mhm,” you hum against him, dragging your blunt nails across his skin. “Need you so bad, Daddy.”

“‘M right here, baby.” He pretends to not know what you’re talking about, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, acting like your fingers aren’t dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. You know he can see right through you, has always seen right through you, his refusal to admit it in this moment only makes your need deepen.

“Please, Joel,” you whine softly, errant fingertips dipping just below the waistband of his boxers. “I almost started touching myself in the bathroom today.” Your cheeks flush red at the confession, a low groan escapes Joel’s throat. “Every time I felt it, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wish it was your co-“

You let out a small gasp when he snatches your wrist. He pauses, so still you begin to worry you’ve upset him, that you’ve pushed him too far. But then something shifts.

Fuck it. His mouth is on you in seconds, his tongue immediately gaining access as you melt into him. It’s dizzying, one of his hands grabbing you just below your jaw, the other squeezing your ass cheek roughly. Your knees buckle just as he’s turning you around and practically throwing you onto the bed. You don’t even have time to lift your head off the mattress before he’s yanking your panties over your ass and easing the plug out of your hole. He’s quick with it, your body shivering as the cool metal slides through you, leaving an empty feeling in its wake, but it doesn’t last for long as Joel licks a broad strip through your seam to your asshole. He presses his tongue there, gauging your reaction before he’s licking into you, spreading you with his hands. At first, you squirm away, the feeling of him eating at you like this entirely foreign. But then you're rocking back into him, completely lost in the rush of his mouth against your asshole. Sounds you never knew yourself capable of filling the room as his tongue repeatedly dives into the ring of muscle.

A strangled moan leaves your lips when he pauses, you crane your neck just in time to see a string of saliva drip from his mouth directly between your ass cheeks. He rubs it into you, pushing his thumb through the ring of muscle making you whimper.

“What d’you want?” His voice is low. His thumb starts pumping in and out of you, fast and unrelenting.

“Daddy,” you whine, burying your burning-hot cheeks into his pillow.

“Gonna need better than that,” he tsks, rutting his bulge into your heat. “Or else I’ll have t’ take care a’ this myself. Tie you up and make you watch.”

“Ngh, Daddy,” you moan, face burning impossibly warmer. His thumb slows, giving you a moment of reprieve to gather your thoughts.

“Want you t’ fuck my ass- wanna feel you.”

“Jesus-“ With his hand coming down to grip your neck, he suddenly pins you to the mattress, muttering a short stay before you feel his weight lift from the bed. You hear the sound of his zipper undoing and catch him fisting himself in the corner of your eye. Your thighs tremble with anticipation as he moves to the side of the bed, planting a knee by your shoulder. Then he’s towering over you, his weeping cock right at your eye line, your cheek still pushed against the mattress, ass in the air. He looks so powerful like this, so broad and so commanding, so when he tells you to open your mouth, you don’t even have to think twice.

“Gonna get daddy’s dick nice n’ wet, baby.” Saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to drip onto the bed when you stick your tongue out. “Then ‘m gonna wedge my cock in this tight little hole. How’s that sound?” You jolt forward when the pad of his index finger pushes into you.

“Please Daddy,” you whine. He removes his hand, immediately wrapping it around the back of your skull, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his length, tapping the red-flushed tip on your tongue a few times before pushing all the way into your mouth in one swift motion, your nose scratching against the coarse hairs at his pelvis. It had taken you months to work up to it, taking him in his entirety. The first time you blew him you’d barely been able to make it halfway down his cock before you were gagging, but not now. Now you take everything he gives you, like he’s molded your throat to the shape of him.

“This mouth-“ he’s cut off by his own moans, erupting from deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

Tears quickly prick in the corners of your eyes as he continues his assault on your throat. A breathy moan slips from his mouth when you gag around his length after an especially forceful thrust of his hips.

His pace slows as he thumbs away your tears. “Daddy’s been so mean, huh little one? Makin’ you wait all this time.”

You whine around his dick, the vibrations making Joel’s breath catch in the back of his throat.

“You like when I’m mean though, don’t you? Like when daddy treats you like the little slut you are?” He delivers a harsh smack to your ass just as he pulls away from your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. He moves to open the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a bottle of lube before rounding the corner of the bed, towering over you from behind.

“Don’t need it,” you whine, head still foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Quiet little girl.” He softly swats your ass before you hear the disappointing sound of the bottle opening, followed by the cool sensation of the liquid hitting your exposed hole. He rubs it into you, letting out a satisfied hum when he presses his thumb into your asshole with ease. And then his cock is lining up with you, it’s so fucking big, so much bigger than the plug, a small part of you starts to worry it may not fit, may be too painful.

Like always, Joel senses your apprehension, running his large palm soothingly down your spine as he leans over you. You feel his warm breath hit your ear.

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah baby?” He says it only slightly above a whisper. “M’ only gonna enjoy this if you do too.”

You nod against the sheets, immediately recognizing that the action won’t be enough for Joel. “Yes, Daddy.” You crane your neck to look at him, eyes hooded and dazed. Something flashes in his expression, beyond simple desire, a need suddenly so evident in his eyes that you’d sit up and kiss him until your lips were raw if he wasn’t pushing the tip of his thick cock inside you.

It’s so much. Even just the first inch is blinding, your vision going blurred and your senses entirely rapt with the feeling. The hurt is overwhelming, the stretch all-consuming, but it’s so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

He pushes in another inch and the pain dissipates, in its place a euphoric haze, where all you can feel is him, his weight driving you into the mattress, his hips rocking against your ass. You see stars once he’s fitted inside you, never having felt this full.

The noises Joel is making are almost pained, his cock throbbing from the tightness of your hole, all the restraint left in him keeping him from setting a brutal pace. No, instead he moves slow, focused intently on not blowing his load every time you squeeze around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers for any signs of unease.

“It’s a lot baby, I know,” he pants. “But you’re doin’ so good.” His praises have you reeling, furthering your dazed state. “Look so goddamn perfect takin’ all a’ me like this.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you know is that you need more, entirely lost in the feeling. You’re always insatiable, greedy, whenever it comes to Joel, and he knows, revels in the fact that he’s the one that gets to have you like this, makes you feel like this.

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point, what sounds are falling from your mouth, just that Joel takes it as a sign to pick up his pace. It brings you back to earth a bit, your lower belly going taught at the force of his body against your own.

You’re crying out against the mattress, small fingers twisting in the sheets, tears forming a wet spot beneath your chin.

“Fuck, baby c’mere.” He suddenly pulls out of you with a heady groan and wastes no time flipping you over. He’s pushing back inside you in seconds, resuming his vigorous pace.

“Wanna see you when I come in this perfect fuckin’ ass.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, your entire body going limp against the mattress as he uses you. When his thumb finds your clit you’re done for. The messy circles he makes send you hurtling right to the edge. With a near-scream, every part of your body goes taut for a moment before your release is shattering through every inch of your body, bursting from your core like shock waves.

“Fuck, fuck-“ he’s repeating over and over as his own climax hits him, but you can’t even hear him, can only feel him, his body thrusting into you, pushing you impossibly further into the mattress, his hands gripping the hinge of your hips, his warm release shooting deep inside you. It’s the only thing keeping you here, prevailing against the potent haze.

With one final grunt, he stills, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping from his forehead. You can barely move, still dazed as he pulls out of you slowly, the emptiness in its wake further graying your awareness of reality.

You lift a shaking hand, attempting to grab at whatever part of him you can reach. “Daddy-“

He leans forward, carefully caging you in his arms. “I’m here baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” you mumble sweetly. He brings one of his hands to your hair, gently running his fingers along your scalp in a way that makes your thoughts even more fuzzy. But the heaviness of his chest against your own keeps you there, keeps you present.

“You did so good f’ me, I’m so proud a’ you.” A tired smile spreads across your face at his words. He knows the effect they have on you, which is probably why he says it. But the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell.

“My pretty baby,” he kisses you softly, and you further melt into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent, musky and woody with something distinctly Joel. The two of you stay like this for a moment, your arms and legs wrapped around his large form, what little remains of your strength focused on keeping him in place, chest to chest, a comforting pressure.

“How do you feel, baby? You hurtin’ anywhere?” He says it against your neck, placing soft kisses to the skin there.

“Mm”, you hum, denying, still detached from your own body, not fully registering the slight tinges of hurt spreading throughout your lower half, completely consumed with the man in front of you, the smell of his sweat still glistening across his chest, the weight of his softened cock still pulsing and twitching against your thigh. He’s everywhere, everything in this moment.

He pulls away just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “How ‘bout a bath yeah?” You hum in agreement, let him unwrap himself from your hold, and stand at the edge of the bed before he’s snaking an arm under your knees and back and lifting you. You instinctively curl your face into his neck, still wet with sweat but you don’t mind, nearly your whole body already covered in him.

He sets you down on the toilet seat before moving to turn the water on, making sure it’s warm enough before plugging the drain. You sway a bit in place, thankful when Joel wraps an arm around your back to steady you. Usually by now the haze will have lifted a bit, no longer in this headspace, yet still your brain is a bit fuzzy, your thoughts and senses dulled.

You look up at Joel when you feel his thick fingers card through your hair, unsure of when he’d gone to grab one of your hair elastics. As he gathers the strands together, you lean into him, your head resting just below his belly button, on the plush flesh of his tummy, smattered with course hairs trailing down to the base of his cock. You nuzzle into the spot, breathing him in, fully content in this moment. You feel the muscle tighten when you start to press small kisses to it. He firmly grips your now fully formed ponytail when your mouth wanders south, interrupting your descent, and you whine.

“Settle.” You let out a short huff of breath and bring your gaze to his, resting your chin on his stomach as he loosens his grip on your hair. He shakes his head at you, holding back a smile as he finishes tying your hair back.

He helps you step into the tub first, guiding you to sit, before he slots himself behind you with a grunt. He pulls you against him, arms wrapped around your tummy and chin resting on your shoulder. You giggle softly when the hairs of his mustache tickle behind your ear.

He lets you sit against him for a moment before he insists on cleaning you up, lathering his soap between his hands and smoothing it along your soft skin. You start to doze off from the feeling, Joel keeping you upright against his chest. Only after the water begins to cool and your fingertips have turned pruney, Joel helps you step out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel before you start to shiver. He kisses you then, soft and slow like he could stay like this with you forever. And you would, if he wasn’t ushering you back into the bedroom, telling you to get in bed and that he’d be right back.

He makes you drink a glass of water before taking his place behind you on the bed, his back to the headboard and the small bowl of your skull cradled against his chest. You slowly drift off to the steady beat of his heart.

I have so many ideas for these two so lmk if we want to see more ;]

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction #part two

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sickskz · 10 days ago

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Hi! So I’ve never done an ask before so I hope I’m doing this right. Can I have something w/ Chan where he gets an extremely high fever from overworking himself, not eating or drinking, and has to go to the hospital? Like I’m talking 104-ish fever, chills, headache, throwing up, cramps, hallucinations, all the works. And can it be all the boys, but mostly Minho or Hyunjin taking care of him, please? That would be great thanks!☺️❤️

Hello! Your request was great, truly, and it got my mind grinding its gears 🤣🙂‍↕️

And now, here I am, back with more 😎 This is actually my first story that is going to be divided into parts, chapters if you will.

This story is also combined with some of the maaany other requests for sick Chan and Chan angst (mainly surrounding feelings of inadequacy, being too hard on oneself, self-neglect, you know the drill) 🙂‍↕️🔥

I’m both nervous and excited to post this, and I sincerely hope to hear your thoughts/feedback as I go along (cause I have no idea what I’m doing) 🤣

Enjoy!

Breaking point: Part 1

Sickie: Bang Chan

Caretaker/s: Mainly Lee Know + Hyunjin, eventually OT7 (?)

____________________________________________

He had really done it this time.

Bang Chan was no stranger to overworking himself, to pushing so far beyond his limits that his body eventually crumpled under the weight of it all.

A few years back, that was all he knew.

Pushing until he broke, confusing burnout with dedication, and mistaking self-harm for resilience.

These days, he tried to be better. He tried to rest when needed, to find balance, to pace himself and let others shoulder the weight with him. But when the pressure swelled, when the noise of his responsibilities became deafening, Chan found himself slipping...

Right back into those old patterns he’d fought so hard to leave behind.

Consumed by the kind of self-destructive habits he’d never, ever let any of his members fall into. Not on his watch.

For the past few days, he had been holed up in his studio, working on tracks, chasing perfection at the expanse of everything else. Most of all, himself.

Pouring every ounce of his being into music wasn’t just a passion; it was a form of catharsis. He loved it, he always had. But like anything pushed too far, it had its breaking point.

Reaching across his desk, Chan barely registered the tremble in his fingers as they curled around his coffee mug. The porcelain was cool against his fingers, smudged with brown stains that clung stubbornly to the ceramic after days of constant reuse.

The remaining coffee inside it had long since gone cold, but he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t planning on drinking it, he was just holding the mug, as if it was the very last thing tethering him to the world outside his own head.

Chan blinked slowly, struggling to focus on the screen in front of him. Everything blurred together; lyrics, track notes, layers of music stacked over each other in a chaotic disarray.

Producing was something he’d mastered for so long, it was almost like second nature to him. But right now, none of it made sense at all.

Each click of his mouse was hesitant, as if his hands knew what they should do, but his mind couldn’t make sense of it as the pointer moved across the screen. He watched the small, angled arrow intently, hoping it might move on its own and reveal the answers he needed. Of course, it didn’t, but maybe- just maybe, he could get through it on muscle memory alone.

Because, truly, nothing made sense.

Not the way his body felt, heavy and numb, as if filled with sand instead of flesh and blood. Not the way the screen before him swirled and flashed in bright colors when he stared too long without blinking. Not even the coffee cup in his hand made sense anymore, so cold it felt almost frigid.

Was he even awake? He honestly couldn’t tell.

Chan couldn’t recall the last time he slept either, at least not properly. A nap here and there, maybe, mostly when he simply couldn’t force his eyes to stay open anymore. But a full night's sleep? That felt like a luxury he simply couldn’t afford.

And, well, maybe something he didn’t quite deserve.

Pathetic.

It had been three whole days, and yet he’d barely managed to finish a couple of the many songs that were supposed to be finalised by Friday.

The list was long, overwhelmingly long, but like everything else lately, it no longer made sense to him.

It was just noise on a page, letters with no meaning.

The blanket wrapped around his shoulders did little to soothe the chills that had wracked through him since sometime around day two, hugging helplessly onto his frame as his mind fought to stay alert.

His whole body shook, fine tremors starting from deep in his core and radiating outwards, likely made worse by the ungodly amount of caffeine he’d consumed. He didn’t care, he hardly registered it at this point.

Chan pulled the blanket tighter around himself, trying to chase away the chill that had seeped so deeply into his bones. It didn’t help, of course. His skin was slick with sweat, soaking through his clothes, dampening the collar of his hoodie, but even with the AC shut off, the studio felt too cold.

A voice echoed from the corner of the room.

“Christopher.”

Chan whipped his head towards it, his head spinning and his shoulders tensing to where they reached his ears. There was a fleeting shadow on the wall, distorted and shapeless.

“Get it together. Why can’t you do anything right?”

He felt his chest tighten, his eyes stinging as the words echoed inside his head. It was true, Chan was running out of time and yet he kept floundering. He had to focus. There was no time to dilly-dally.

A soft whimper slipped out before he could stop it, and Chan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in frustration. When he opened them again, the shadow was gone, like it had never been there in the first place.

“What…” Chan whispered hoarsely, his voice trailing off as he absentmindedly turned back to the screen. His eyes widened in alarm as he saw the words he had so carefully crafted began to melt off the screen, dripping slowly onto the desk below.

“Hey- no..” he protested weakly, wiping a shaky hand along the bottom of the screen in a futile attempt to stop the apparent leak. “No, no, no… please..” his voice cracked as he recoiled, pressing his hand over his face.

God…This didn't make sense.

On every display surrounding him, the reminders loomed, impatient and judgmental. There were deadlines, so many deadlines that they blurred together into one overwhelming nightmare, a cacophony of expectations he couldn’t seem to meet.

His stomach clenched, a sharper cramp twisting through his gut, and Chan doubled over with a pained gasp, slamming his forehead into the desk with a dull thud.

Somehow, he barely registered the pain.

Nausea struck him like a tidal wave, and he barely managed to grab the small trash bin under his desk before he was dry heaving into it, the veins in his neck bulging from the strain. Only a thin stream of bile came up, laced with faint, bitter traces of coffee.

Nothing else. Of course not, he hadn’t eaten in almost two days.

The last thing he’d had was a cup of instant noodles, and the empty container still sat at the edge of the desk. Some of the noodles had already made their reappearance a couple of nights ago, along with half a Red Bull.

At least he'd managed to make it to the bathroom that time.

Once the heaving subsided, Chan let out a shaky sigh and cradled his head in his hands. His forehead throbbed with relentless heat, and his mouth felt weird, like it had been stuffed full of cotton, his tongue too large to fit.

He was burning up, his blood boiling beneath his skin.. and yet, somehow, he still felt like he was freezing.

The shadows were dancing around him again, flickering in and out of existence, too fast to catch, too real to ignore. They darted like phantoms, peeking in from the corners of his eyes, distracting him, taunting him.

Their whispers swarmed his ears, a storm of overlapping voices that didn’t belong to anyone.

A chaotic, merciless chorus born of his own subconscious.

“Get up.”

“Apologise.”

“Why do you persist?”

“Pathetic.”

“You ruin everything.”

“S-stop it..” Chan shook his head again, trying to clear them out, but they only grew sharper, more accusing. He was so nauseous, so dizzy, so sick. His body felt like it was shutting down bit by bit, no longer obeying simple commands.

So when his vision tipped, Chan had no strength left to stop his body from slipping out of his chair, slumping helplessly to the floor. Breath left his mouth in weak, uneven pants as he sank down, one arm draping around his chair in a last desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

His mind was reeling, but none of the thoughts were stringing together anymore. There were all disjointed fragments of his delirious mind, scattered across like leaves in a storm.

Deadlines. Friday. Gotta finish the chorus. What bridge needed adjusting? The harmony levels. Water. Did I drink water? Han said something about the key… I should write it down. Write what down? The fuck is going on?

Chan groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as if he could somehow hold his thoughts in place and keep his brain from melting out of his ears.

His phone buzzed once in his pocket. He ignored it.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

With a weak huff, Chan fumbled for his phone with trembling fingers. He squinted at the screen, willing his mind to focus as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. His thoughts were sluggish, slipping through his grasp, but even in his haze, he saw them…

Missed calls.. and messages. A flood of them, filling his screen, almost all from the other members.

Hyunjin’s name lit up at the top.

Hyunjin: Hyung, please.

Chan furrowed his brows and swiped his thumb across the screen, opening the chat between the two of them.

The conversation stretched endlessly in a flurry of short, urgent messages that, together, mapped out a narrative.

Hyunjin: Hey, are you okay? Hyunjin: Innie says you haven’t been home in a while…. Hyunjin: Three days?!! Hyunjin: have you been staying in the studio this whole time? It's literally wednesday Hyunjin: Helloooooo???? Pls don't be dead Hyunjin: HYUNG!!!!! Hyunjin: you’re kinda scaring me..

A longer pause.

Hyunjin: Are things getting bad again? Hyunjin: I’m here for you, you know that. Hyunjin: You have to answer. Pick up Hyunjin: Please talk to me. Hyunjin: Should I get someone??

Then, the most recent..

Hyunjin: Hyung, please.

The messages from the other members were a varied assortment of words conveying the same sentiment as Hyunjin.

They were worried.

About me? Chan thought numbly. Why?

As he stared dully at the screen, another message popped up, bringing an end to the one-sided conversation between him and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: We’re going to break the door down if you don’t answer me. We’re all worried sick.

Chan felt guilt coil in his chest, a bitter taste settled at the back of his tongue that he couldn’t blame on lingering bile. His eyes blurred again. Tears, maybe, but he wasn’t sure if his body had enough moisture to produce any. He blinked hard, trying to move his fingers, to skim them across the screen and type a response.

But he couldn’t, he was shaking too much.

With a weak groan, Chan hesitated, a trembling finger hovering just above the call button.

As much as he didn’t want to be seen like this, he couldn’t bring himself to let his members worry. His mind was slipping, but deep down, through the thick fog clouding his thoughts, he knew he was in trouble.

Things had already spiraled beyond his control, and he had crossed a line that there was no coming back from.

Hyunjin picked up after the very first ring. There was some scurrying, some scratching and hushed whispers in the back before his voice finally carried through the phone.

“Channie-hyung..” Hyunjin’s voice trembled, thick with concern. “Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering? We’ve all been worried sick-“ the dancer sounded like he had more to say, but reigned himself in at the last minute.

Chan swallowed hard. “Hey, Hyunjinnie …” His voice didn’t sound like his own, it was raspy, breathless, and raw. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t used it properly in days.

“‘M sorry..” his voice slurred, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and making it hard to get the words out. “I’m here…”

Hyunjin let out a soft gasp at the other end of the line, almost as if he was startled by the sound of him.

“God… you sound.” Hyunjin sucked in a breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. His voice softened, almost like he was speaking to a frightened child. “What do you mean ‘here’, hyung? Are you at the studio?”

Though Hyunjin couldn’t see him, Chan nodded his head faintly, humming a soft ‘mhm’ in response.

There was more shuffling on the other end of the line, followed by crackling noises that made Chan cringe and pull the phone away from his ear.

Then, Hyunjin’s voice again, distant and no longer directed at him. “Yeah- he answered. At the studio. I think it’s bad. Lino-hyung, get the car.”

Chan pressed his cheek into the seat of his chair as the sounds from his phone grew fainter. The leather felt cool against his skin, and it was a welcome sensation.

His hand was tired from holding his phone, so he let it slip from his grasp, the device thumping softly beside his head.

“Sorry, Hyunjinnie… I’m fine..” Chan whispered, the lie thin and slipping off his tongue far too easily.

He wasn’t even sure what he was apologising for, but before he could hear Hyunjin’s response, his vision flickered with dizzying lights, a high-pitched ringing in his ears drowning out the world around him.

It felt as though he was sinking into a hot spring, the heat soaking into his skin until all he could feel was overwhelming warmth.

And then, as his vision faded to black...

He felt nothing at all.

____________________________

To be continued...

____________________________

Stay tuned for pt.2 y’all, I promise the wait won’t be too long 🫡

Then, you'll gain insight into Hyunjin and the others' reactions as they finally reach Chan, realising just how deep of a mess he’s gotten himself into this time 👀 it’s gonna be a lil angsty, but I’m hoping it will turn out to be a good story 🤠🤞🏽

#stray kids sickfic #skz sickfic #kpop sickfic #stray kids sick #stray kids angst #stray kids hurt/comfort #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan sickfic #sick bang chan

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skeltnwrites · 10 months ago

Text

S'mores - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie takes you camping

Word Count: 3.6k

TW: bad driving, maybe a bit of angst

A/N: This might have something to do with that box of money from my last fic (kudos to those who guessed correctly), also writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet so good luck if you thought the last one was fluffy

Silver-clad fingers tap against the steering wheel, more in tune with the van’s blinker than the Ace of Spades cassette blaring through the speakers. Eddie glances over his shoulder before veering into the next lane, throwing up an apology wave to the sedan he just cut off. You peek up from the map, sights darting to your side mirror, then to your boyfriend. He’s inches from scratching the sticker-loaded bumper ahead of you, gassing and breaking repeatedly.

You’re well aware that Eddie’s never been a good driver. Frequently snagging curbs and pushing speed limits, once having picked a note from the windshield about his poor parking job. It’s a miracle that he’s only been in a couple of fender benders over the years. You once nabbed his driver’s license, swatting away his hands so you could see the grainy photo of teenage Eddie. But every now and then when his foot slams against the pedal and you lurch forward in your seat only to be caught by the belt, you wonder whether it was a fake. Today, somehow, he’s in even more of a rush than usual.

The tape ends, leaving you in silence apart from a distant honk and the familiar chug of the air conditioning. “You know the campsite isn’t going anywhere right?”

He hums dismissively, hands gripping ten and two as his gaze darts between the road and his rearview.

You throw a palm over his thigh, squeezing. “Eddie.”

He’s locked in, swerving in failed attempts to get back over. “One second, sweetheart,” he manages when you retract your hand. There’s a risky opening and he takes it, the car behind instantly laying on the horn. Your eye twitches.

He rolls to a stop, with nowhere to go between the bumper-to-bumper traffic as far ahead as you can see and highway patrol parked in the median. “Seems everyone and their mother had the same idea, huh?” He turns to you with a dopey half-smile.

“What’s the rush?”

He shrugs, picking at the rip in his jeans, “Just wanna get set up before dark.”

“We’ve got flashlights.”

“No– well, yeah. It’s not that. I just don’t wanna have to worry about it later.”

You tilt your head, “No biggie if we set up late.”

He nods, knowing you’re right.

When you’d got home from work Eddie didn’t give you a chance to kiss him hello before he urged you into the bedroom to pack for a surprise weekend camping trip. Rented camping gear and a bag of gas station snacks were thrown into the back of the van and within the hour, you were on the road. As he pulled onto the interstate he’d abruptly toggled off the radio as the host discussed details of the pending meteor shower, the part of the trip he intended to keep secret. You pretended not to hear when he asked, despite having read about it in the paper the afternoon before.

The sun sinks out of sight as you reach the exit ramp. A light pitter-patter against the windshield has you preemptively cranking up your window. Your feet cross each other over the dash as you trace the approaching circle on your map with your finger.

“You said Bronson?” Eddie asks.

“Mhmm. Left on Bronson Road.”

“Ya sure? Cause it’s definitely blocked off.”

You whip your head up at the construction signs and equipment lining the street, or lack of street rather.

“Damn it.” You rub the bridge between your nose.

“I could just try to drive through it? I mean those big trucks can–”

“Eddie,” you raise an eyebrow.

“What!” He slaps the dashboard, “This girl's gotten us through a lot of adventures, right? One more won’t kill her.” He’s dead serious; Zero problem with driving past a sign that says ‘Closed’ and ‘Do Not Enter’.

“I’ll find another route, keep driving.”

“Come on,” he groans, sagging into his seat.

“Do you want to pop a tire and be out here all night waiting for help?”

He scoffs like you’ve insulted him, “I know how to change a tire.”

“Do you have a spare?”

His mouth opens in rebuttal and quickly shuts.

“Drive,” you roll your eyes, hiding your smirk behind the map.

You try another road that connects, or so you thought until you pull up to a dead-end sign. It’s pouring now and pitch black out, road signs are hard to see, street lights are sparse, and you’re both cranky from being trapped in a car with each other. It’s your fourth attempt at rerouting when Eddie declares you are officially lost.

He holds his hands up in defense, “Look I don’t wanna say it but–”

You send him a glare before he can finish. “We’re not lost.”

“Look, it’s okay if–”

“But we aren’t. Look, right here,” you flick a pen against the paper. “I’m telling you this is the one.”

He falters at your serious stare, biting a nail, and sighs, “Okay. Fifth times the charm, right?”

“That’s what they say,” you smile.

To both of your surprise, the fifth time is the charm and you’re able to get back on track with your navigation skills. You’re on a long stretch of dirt road, miles since the last light or building or car for that matter. Still, you swear you know where you are and Eddie believes you. He drives shockingly slow, bobbing his leg and squinting at the windshield. The wipers squeal against the glass, working overtime.

You push your palm against his knee. He continues to drum against the floor mat.

He feels your gaze and anticipatorily answers, “Have to piss.”

“You did on the side of the road like half an hour ago, dude.”

“Think it’s the rain. Rainiest fucking day in Indiana history. Thought it would’ve stopped by now.” His voice trails off in this dejected sort of way that you rarely hear from Eddie.

You’re lips form a tight line and you bring your fingers up to his nape to scratch under a thick mop of curls. “It’ll let up bub.”

He nods, eyes trained ahead.

You literally scream when the headlights glare against a campsite sign. Eddie smiles so hard you’d bet his cheeks hurt. An unimpressed teenager mans the check-in booth which you pull up to. She slides the window open to abruptly tell you they closed ten minutes ago, not allowing you to reply before it slams shut. Eddie raps on the glass, pointing to a crisp twenty-dollar bill which she accepts, offering a parking pass and spot number in return.

The van is parked and you jump out, delighted that the rain has let up some. It’s sprinkling and clouds block any hint of stars, but you couldn’t care less. Eddie grabs the tent first, recruiting you to help stomp the stakes into the ground. He fumbles with the flaps, scratching his neck trying to understand where the door is supposed to be when the rain picks up again. You scramble to finish setting up, throwing bags, food, a radio, and whatever else easily accessible into the tent. It isn’t until you’re both inside, soaked to the bone, that you realize how cramped it is.

“This is definitely not a two-person tent,” Eddie chuckles, hunched over like a wilting flower, knees digging into yours. His curls are slick and shiny in the lantern glow.

You flick a mosquito off his arm and grin, “It’s cozy for sure.”

He flops on the twin-sized inflatable mattress you’d previously used as an umbrella. You wriggle up beside him, clothes drenched and clinging to every curve.

“I mean think about it, this size would go for, what, a grand in New York? They’d call it an urban studio apartment with bright ceilings and textured floors,” you say magically.

His laugh bleeds into a dramatic groan as he slings an arm over his face. You leave a wake of kisses from his elbow over to his wrist until he’s peeling it away to hold you. Your cheeks are warm against his palms as he says, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to see the meteor shower.”

You lift an eyebrow, “What meteor shower?”

He covers your face, snorting, “Shut up, you knew. You aren’t a good liar.”

You crack a smile, peeling his fingers away one by one until you can see him again.

“But really,” he says, seriously. “We are soaked and cold and we didn’t even get to make s'mores!”

You drop your head to his chest, “You’re right. I don’t think I’ll survive without s'mores.”

His hand finds your crown, his lips too. “I’m serious!”

“So am I,” you mumble into his tee.

You are content to lay there in each other’s warmth for a while despite the chills worming up your spine but Eddie breaks the stillness, “Come on. Get up. We need to change.”

You lift your head, “Wait!” You poke at his chest, “I need to tell you something.”

He hums, brown eyes heavy as they search yours.

“I love you,” you say earnestly.

“Sap!” He pushes you off, crawling over to his JanSport to fish for dry clothes. He chucks you a pair and you waste no time stripping off the sticky fabric. Before long, the lantern is off and you're wrapped in the single dry blanket, shuffling back into him for more warmth. He pecks your shoulder and mutters, “I love you too,” before you drift off.

You aren’t sure what time it is when you wake but Eddie is breathing hot air onto your neck, curls itching you in a way that makes you pull away. His arm slinks under the covers as you sit up. No light leaks through the tent so it must not be time to get up, you decide. You feel far from sleep, however. It’s cold and somehow sticky. The pant leg pinched up your calf gets tugged down, only to realize the fabric is damp.

Eddie must feel you shuffling because he starts mumbling and groping around your pillow. His hand claws at your sleeve in an attempt to suck you back in. He whines sleepily when you don’t budge.

“Eddie,” you whisper, sliding a hand up the tent’s coarse walls.

“What,” his voice catches, soft against his pillow and hoarse with sleep.

“I think,” you swipe at the floor until your fingertips graze a freezing puddle. “There’s a hole in the tent or something.” You blink rapidly trying to see the damage.

He cranes up with a hum, elbowing you as he scratches his face.

“The floor is wet.”

“Where?”

You wrap your fingers around his in the darkness, guiding them past your body to skim the floor.

“Shit,” he sighs.

You prod around, shoving away non-lantern-shaped or textured items.

“Here,” Eddie clicks his lighter. It sparks a few times before lighting, casting skewed shadows against the walls. He yawns, gesturing at the lantern with closed lids. You click it on, dangling it over the gap beside the mattress—golden light glimmers against the water. Eddie climbs over you to view it, hair swaying as he shifts. Your heavy eyes travel up in tandem to catch the steady drip from the roof. A small, fraying line splits the fabric. He pushes a thumb against the next forming bead. His tongue slips back in his mouth to clear his throat, “I’ve got duct tape in the van but I don’t think it’ll stick to this.” He scratches the canvas, “‘specially not in the rain.”

You nod, observing as his brain churns. His gaze flicks to his wrist watch and then he’s folding over his legs in a cat-like stretch. Hunched over, he says, “It’s too early for this. Let’s just go sleep in the van.” He hums as if to ask, “How does that sound?”

You trace the curve of his spine as he stretches, “‘kay.” Neither of you move. Rain pelts the tarp rhythmically.

“Come on,” he sighs deeply before pushing up to unzip the tent. Stray raindrops blow inside, a couple catching your hand where it bunches clothes together. You sweep whatever is near into his bag, passing Eddie his sneakers. You don’t bother lacing yours.

He throws his denim jacket over your shoulders before you race out, shoes squelching against the mud. Your heel dips into a puddle as you plant your hands against the slick sliding door. Eddie jams the keys in the lock with rehearsed practice, climbing in and pressing buttons until the rest of the locks click. You rapidly pull the metal handle, nearly eating shit as your foot slides.

Eddie jumps back out. “Piece of shit door,” he grumbles and bumps your hip, pushing with you until the door lurches open. When he clears it, you slam it behind him. The backpack and his jacket are discarded onto the floor before you climb over the center console after him. He starts the car, cranking the temperature knobs until warm air blows from the vents.

As soon as your eyes meet, you crumble into giggles. Any bit of sleepiness left has vanished. His hair is flattened with moisture and his cheeks rosy from the cold. You curl your nail under a black strand stuck to his chin.

“Needed a shower anyway,” Eddie shakes his hair out like a dog, spraying you in the face.

You yell and shield yourself with your sleeves.

He licks a stray droplet off his lip then leans over the seats searching. Eddie gets up and squirms between them, kicking the water bottle in the cup holder. You slip your shoes off, pushing them under the seat to avoid tracking any more mud.

Your palms hover flat against the heat for a while. It’s quiet per Eddie standards so you glance behind your seat. In the dim car light, your boyfriend shuffles through his backpack. He’s chewing on his lip as he tips it over to dump the contents out, mostly clothes. His eyes widen when he finds you staring.

“Find me something to wear?” You ask.

He nods after a moment, still watching you like a child with their hand in the cookie jar. You turn back around hesitantly.

You busy yourself with reading the campsite pamphlet you’d been given at the entrance. But the grinding of the slider door has you whipping your head back around. Eddie’s halfway outside, shouting, “One sec’!” The door shuts abruptly leaving you alone in the van. You climb into the back, cupping your hands against the foggy glass. Your boyfriend has his jacket slung across his back as he crouches into the tent. A couple of minutes pass and he’s running back. You pull the door open for him and he thanks you as he hops in.

“What?” You question.

He flashes a tight-lipped smile, “Forgot this.” He holds out his lighter in one hand, placing his jacket on the floor neatly with the other.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’ve got like three in the glovebox, Eddie.”

“This one’s my favorite.” The lighter is lime green, adorned with a fading smiley face drawn in sharpie, thanks to you. He scratches his neck sheepishly. You don’t know whether to believe him since he’s never shown a preference for lighters before now but he seems genuinely embarrassed that you’ve found out.

“Oh,” you settle with, choosing to let it go, lest you embarrass the poor boy further.

You dissolve into separate chores in the back of the van. He smears the puddle by the door with his already wet t-shirt and you hunt for another pair of his pajama pants for yourself. Dry clothes are dwindling, having soaked two pairs each already. But you manage to find new bottoms and a fresh shirt for Eddie. He’s slipping it over his head, crisscrossed on the floor in only his boxers. You circle the small space, plucking any soggy clothes off the floor to hang dry on a camping chair that had been left in the van. As you scoop up Eddie’s jacket something rolls out onto the floor. You kneel to pick up a small, black box with your free hand. You scratch curiously at the velvet, wavering to hand it off to Eddie. Gears turn in your head as you glance up at your boyfriend who stares at you from the floor a few feet away. Your expression mirrors his, mouth agape, eyebrows raised.

“I—”

“Is this?“ You say simultaneously.

Your limbs are locked in place, mouth dry as you try to string together a coherent question. Suddenly the heat pouring from the vents is too hot. You might as well catch fire with how your cheeks burn.

He deflates in front of you, shoulders sagging and chin drooping in one motion.

You shove the box into his hands as if that will fix it.

He furrows his brows and looks away, “Shit.”

You are about to offer to pretend you haven’t seen it when he continues.

“This whole trip has really gone to shit, huh?” He shakes his head, throwing a hand out defeatedly, “I mean– I had this whole perfect plan and I was trying so hard not to fuck it up. The shower and the fucking rain. Hell, Steve, even Wayne warned me to do it right and I– I just.” He scoffs, head tipping back against the door. “I almost lost it.”

It’s then that it dawns on you that Eddie Munson, your boyfriend, intended to propose to you on this trip. That he plans to marry and spend the rest of his life with you.

“–want you to think that I don’t care enough—“

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“–and I wanted you to know how seri—“

“Eddie!” Your on the dirty floor of his van, knees digging into his as you push the box further into his chest, “Fucking ask me already.”

He melts under your stare, breath shuddering hesitantly despite your growing smile. “I– Will you—“

You're already nodding at the first word. “Yes, you idiot.” You’ve lunged into his chest, smiling uncontrollably into his neck.

He chuckles nervously into your temple, slowly wrapping an arm around you. But he pulls back, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately.

His eyes dance around your face, lingering on the spot below your ear he likes to kiss. He presses his nose there instead, giggling like a little kid. “I can’t believe you said yes,” he whispers breathily, more to himself than you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You squeeze him, eyebrows furrowed.

“I dunno, I just thought,” he trails off.

“Eddie,” you peel him off your skin, waiting until he looks at you. “This is perfect.” You knead your nose and eyes before anything escapes. “I don’t care if it rained or if we didn’t see the meteors or about fucking s’mores for Christ’s sake!” You smack him lightly in the chest, smiling hard.

His eyes are glassy and he swallows hard. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet,” his voice shakes when he says it.

“There could be a paper ring in there for all I care.”

He grins, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Should’ve told me that before I bought something.”

You laugh wetly and he brings the box up to your hands to open together. Rings are not something you and Eddie had discussed much if at all and yet somehow he managed to find just what you envisioned.

The tears finally fall as you say, “It’s gorgeous, Eds.”

He chases them away with kisses, cupping your cheek to pull you closer.

When you're momentarily done studying the jewelry you press your lips to his. He’s reluctant to pull away, diving in for a second, then a third, like you’ll change your mind if he lets you go.

“Here,” his hands are shaking as he plucks the ring from its cushion and cradles your hand. The ring slips on easily, a tad too big, but “Wayne knows someone who can tighten it.”

You nod, grinning wildly at your hand. He’s watching you with a similar wobbly expression when you glance up. You remain a tangled pile of soppy limbs on the metal floor until your back aches. He’s pulling you up and clicking off the lights before crawling up front.

“I don’t know how you expect me to fall asleep now,” you whisper giddily, cheek pressed to the reclined passenger seat.

From across you, he says, “I don’t think I can either.” He watches you fondly as you twist the ring around your finger. He’s thinking about how stupid he was to worry so much about what Wayne and Steve fucking Harrington of all people warned him about. That he knows he’s never felt so strongly about someone before and that he’d be crazy to let you slip away.

Your gasp breaks his stream of consciousness. You’ve sat up, pointing through the windshield. “Look!”

“What?” he’s ducking his head, flipping up the sun visor, and glancing from you to the glass, trying to track your line of sight. Then he finds it, a long arc of light breaking through the clouds. It’s faint, fading in and out of the darkness as it streams from one end of the sky to the other. It passes, and you both observe for more, wide-eyed and stiff like dolls.

“Look at that,” you blink deliriously, slumping back into the seat.

“Did you get the universe in on this or something when I wasn’t looking?” He’s baffled, chuckling to himself.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you smirk.

He nods, leaning over to peck the corner of your lip. “Didn’t need one. Knew you were it from day one.” He slinks back into his seat, leaving you a blushing ball of flames.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic

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amberjazmyn · 10 months ago

Text

decade 💔🥹

pairing : f1 grid x driver!reader

summary : aston martin driver elouisa holland is great at keeping her composure in front of the judgemental and ruthless eyes of the formula 1 media circus. that is until she gets asked about why she only has her mum and siblings at her races but not her dad even though everytime she did speak about her dad, it was positive. those who knew why her dad wasn't present at races were worried for how elouisa would respond until the room fell silent when she explained since they clearly couldn't understand or recognise the tense in which she spoke about him.

warnings : mention of parental death, dark humour, f1 grid press conference, driver x female!reader, platonic x f1 grid, driver reader x max verstappen

a/n : i have to admit, this was slightly self-indulgent because, fyi, my own father died a decade ago this year and this is exactly what i feel like i'd respond with if someone asked me where my dad was if i talked about him in such a positive light and them not recognising the tense in which i spoke about him. and, also, yes, i have elouisa as an aston martin driver because, no hate but, i'm not the biggest fan of lance stroll so he's just not part of the grid and elouisa is instead but all the other drivers are still in the grid though with a special guest appearance of sebastian vettel.

it wasn't a shock to find out that the media circus involved with formula one was invasive and sometimes brutal. asking questions that people would think would be off-limits from asking however, within f1, no question was off-limits since there were no secrets within the sport. not even questions about personal matters like their families or their love lives since majority of the drivers had relationships that whilst weren't technically secret but on the private side and other personal matters in their life were safe from media scrutiny. things that didn't even relate to being a formula one driver would be asked instead of the more important questions like how they felt about their car or how the race itself went. and of course, because of these nosy reporters who always wanted clicks and the best and juciest headlines, all the drivers on the f1 grid was put through some form of pr media training so they'd always have the perfect response that would also still give them some privacy as well as preparing them for the harshest of harsh questions without lashing out and gracefully rerouting the conversation back to the original topic of racing. so, if they were responding to a question that was quite invasive and teetered on the line of a privacy violation, they didn't give too much away and they weren't giving the reporter the exact response that they so desperately wanted. and, most of the times, it worked perfectly and the drivers hadn't had their whole lives being plastered over the internet. however, for the first time, elouisa holland's pr training did not come and save her because no matter how hard she tried giving the intrusive reporter her pr media trained responses, he still wasn't satisfied and kept on pressing her for a better answer then the one he had been given.

so, because of that, she decided to tell the truth and it was a hard truth that would also make many people uncomfortable but, elouisa had been pushed too hard and too far and unfortunately, it was with the entire f1 grid around her alongside the nosy reporters. who most of them already knew the unfortunate reason why her dad wasn't seen around the paddock during grand prixs and why whilst she always spoke lovingly of her dad, she always spoke about him in the past tense. and that was because elouisa's dad died when she was only eleven years old when she was still karting alongside some of those who she now shares the f1 grid with.

however, that's not how the press conference started. it had actually started as an amazing group interview with all of the drivers, all twenty of them, all bunched up together on the teeny tiny couch. all of them giggling and making jokes with one another and the interviewers and the moderator. elouisa was sat in the middle of red bull's max verstappen and ferrari's carlos sainz jr, verstappen on her right and sainz jr to her left. the three of them were giggling amongst each other and it was during that moment of the three of them giggling that the invasive interviewer, a man who was like at least a couple decades older than elouisa, asked her the one question she had always managed to skirt around giving a proper answer and avoid.

however, the moment her head looked away from max and carlos and over at the interviewer, it was as though she already knew what question he would be asking. and that was before she had even lifted her head up and before he had even opened his mouth to say anything.

"you always speak about your dad in such a positive light but we never see him around the paddock or at any of the grand prixs. if he's so great and so loved by you, then why doesn't he make any effort in supporting his daughter in a sport that for so many years, was male dominated and still is considered to be. as the only female driver on the grid, it has to upset you that majority of the drivers have their entire family with them to support them but you don't. especially with the consideration that you are actually quite a talented driver and really getting up there in the status of a legend. but, this is something you always avoid and never answer properly so why are you always talking so happily about your dad but when you get asked why he's never here to watch you drive, you always avoid and deflect, why is that?" elouisa should have prepared herself better but, she genuinely thought reporters were getting bored of asking this question because of the fact she always avoided it

however, this crusty old man was persistent and it seemed as though by his stance and the look on his face, that he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he desired. but, of course, elouisa wasn't going to back down either so, she started to respond with the same old, media trained answers that she had always used every single time.

"my dad and the reason why he doesn't turn up to races has no connection to where i am now as a formula one driver. this isn't a question you would ask to someone like max or to charles so why am i the only one being questioned on this topic other than the obvious that i'm a female and they're men? if you have a better question that is actually in relation to this weekend's grand prix, i will happily answer it but, any other non-related grand prix questions, will be ignored, thank you..." elouisa trailed off, placing the microphone in her hand back into her lap as she smiled over at max who gave her a worried look

elouisa knew that the guy was going to keep on trying, it was obvious. however, she didn't want anyone to notice just how bothered she got when people constantly asked about her father and why he was always mentioned but never seen.

like mentioned before, she was eleven when her father died. and for the longest time, after the death of her father, it was as though her life went by ever so slowly. she wasn't sure how she was still alive because she never really remembered much from ages eleven to eighteen since those years just culminated together all into one. of course, she liked to say that she was the happiest she had ever been from her formula 2 days in 2020 and onwards but, everyone knew she was still struggling deep down. since the loss of her father, she developed an anxiety disorder that was then rediagnosed as ptsd since panic attacks would always strike the australian girl at the worst and most inconvient of times. however, they never bothered her when she was racing or in interviews which she always thought was suspicious considering just how much more dangerous formula one racing was then anything else that she had going on in her life. at eighteen, she made her formula one debut with torro rosso even though it was only just for that debuting performance. after debuting with torro rosso, she moved to renault and then alfa romeo within the same year since the two teams fought over her, spending one half of the year with renault and then the other with alfa romeo. then, aston martin contacted her for a multi-year contract which she couldn't turn down as they had been renamed and brought back after changing their name from racing point to aston martin. and because they knew alfa romeo were never going to keep her for longer than the second half of her rookie season. and in late 2021, elouisa would be the number one driver of aston martin alongside fernando alonso.

even though elouisa seemed to smile a lot in regards to talking about her dad, it always killed her a little inside because she always spoke about him in the past tense, reminding her of that solemn fact that, her dad was truly never going to come back. no matter how many times she wanted to forget or pretend that his death was just a mean prank that went too far. of course she did. how else would she talk about her dad who was no longer walking the earth anymore? besides, it had accidentally become a habit that she never wanted to get into in the first place. of course she wished her dad was still alive. it was the same for her best friend, charles leclerc, who drove for ferrari. his dad had also passed away but charles was a lot older, he was nineteen and a year away from getting his formula one contract. so he knew the very pain that elouisa went through every single day when she would look and see the other drivers have both of their parents be present for them at every race. it was something she had always longed for and even sometimes loathed her mum for. she had always wanted her mum to fall in love again and when she didn't, it made her slightly hate her mum for not wanting to try to love someone new again just because she was afraid of the same thing happening again. it hurt elouisa to see her mum just blantly ignore her children when they begged and cried out for more than just their mum. only their youngest brother a mummy's boy. the rest of the siblings obsessed with their dad which caused four of the five siblings way more grief from the loss.

it brought a painful ache into elouisa's heart every single time she remembered the words she said moments after the death of her dad had been announced. the first thing that fell out of little eleven year old elouisa's mouth was 'when am i getting a new dad?'. and even though she was now twenty-one, it was still something that haunted her every waking hour knowing that those were the first words that came out of her mouth. she was eleven, not a baby, yet she was still so clueless about death being final. that death meant the person wasn't going to come back. and now that she was older, she understood why little eleven year old elouisa said what she said. she said those words because she never wanted to be living a life without a father in her life. whether that was her biological father or a father that stepped up and fell in love with her mum and her five children.

however, that never happened. elouisa's mum never fell in love and it was still something that elouisa would pick fights with her mum about. calling her mum selfish because she's too scared to fall in love again. reminding her that she can't stay miserable forever and that it's not a crime to try again and give her family the stability that they've been missing for the last decade.

blinking back the cruel truth of elouisa's life, she was pulled back into the press conference as the intrusive interviewer asked her the question again, "i'll ask you again, why are you always avoiding questions that involve your father's obnoxious absences from the races? if a father loved his daughter so much, he wouldn't be avoiding all of her races so where is your father and why are you avoiding answering questions about his whereabouts?" the interviewer asked sharply, waiting for the moment elouisa would crack under the pressure he put her under

everyone just watching in wait. the drivers beside her all holding their breath as they never truly knew how elouisa would respond or react when asked about her dad. whether she'd laugh hysterically and insert dark humour jokes, in a bid to cover up her uncomfortability. whether she'd cry because it was a day in which she really missed her dad. or if she'd just be nonchalant and continue to ignore the interviewer. however, this time, it was clear that elouisa was equipped with the perfect answer. the answer that no one was ready for because of how brutally honest and uncomfortable it was.

giggling under her breath, it seemed to excite elouisa that she could finally throw away all of her pr media training and just make this absolute asshole of an interviewer uncomfortable, "sir, i have a question for you, do you have a dad?" elouisa starts as the interviewer is shocked at getting questioned himself but he quickly recovers and nods his head

"yes, i do, elouisa, why?" the interviewer questioned as elouisa smirked, her plan was working as the drivers looked at her slightly worried - max holding her hand moreso for his own comfort than hers

"well, when you talk about your dad, which tense do you talk about him in? present or past?" elouisa questions as the interviewer was still confused but not those around him as they all went into a solemn silence

"present? i don't know, why are you asking?" he huffed, his arms crossed over like a child as elouisa giggled once again as she shook her head

"okay, good to know your dad is still alive and kicking, sir. i say that because, if any of you interviewers really did your job and did it well enough, you would have picked up on the tense in which i use to speak about my dad..." elouisa trailed off, her head turned to the side as the other interviewers bit their lips in a bid to not make any noises of shock as they finally realised the way in which she spoke about her dad when she did talk about him

however, this stupid man didn't. he didn't make the connection because it was always this one interviewer that always asked and asked and prodded but never actually paid attention to what was being said and how it was being said. he only cared about his intrusivity being listened to and responded to so he could get the content and reactions he needed for his big stories.

"...okay, and? what's the tense in which you speak about your father got to do with this question that you always avoid?" the interviewer questioned in slight stupidity as elouisa sighed, her eyes rolling as she reaised she really would have to spell it out for him

"fuck me...sir, if you were slightly smarter and actually paid attention to the things i post on social media on days like birthdays and annviersaries and why i never respond to your abhorrent questions, as well as paid attention to anything that is seen on my racing helmets, you would know that my dad has been dead for an entire decade...that's why no one in this interview pen has seen my dad except for the other current and former drivers on the grid because when i was eleven, i was still in karting. at eleven, i hadn't even realised that i wanted to reach formula 1 let alone any of the others. if you paid enough attention instead of focusing on the disgusting and intrusive questions to write your big story about, you would be knowledgeable in the news that my dad's dead, mate. like, he's dead dead. like he's so dead that i don't even think i can remember what he sounds like anymore..." elouisa trailed off as the entire press conference fell silent except for some of elouisa's giggles and the clicks of cameras and the one filming the press conference live

after finally getting the response that the interviewer so desperately needed, he gulped back in embarrassment. his entire face went red and his mouth fell into a straight line as though someone had zipped it shut. he didn't know how to respond and elouisa found it hilarious. she loved when she shut down the ignorant and intrusive reporters because they always reacted the same exact way that this interviewer was reacting. but, it didn't take long before the interviewer then started to try and save his arse.

"...i...i'm so sorry. i...i didn't know that your dad..." he stammered as elouisa held her hand up, making him stop talking and he did, however it was max's voice that spoke up next, not elouisa's

"...cut the crap, mate. it's obvious you're not truly sorry because if you were, you would have stopped intruding the first time elouisa avoiding responding to your inflammatory questions! if you were that good of an interviewer as you boast to be, you would know that constant nagging isn't going to get you the answer you long for, it's going to end in the same way this press conference has ended. with a driver being pushed to their limit and giving the truth that you so wish for in the most uncomfortable and confronting way possible because you just couldn't stop prodding and poking for a response. but, well done anyway i guess, cause you got what you wished for, right? you now know why elouisa's dad isn't seen around the paddock even though elouisa still talks about him," max was not playing around, he was furious as were the rest of the drivers on the grid but, no one could see the steam that was billowing from the ears of newly retired f1 racer, sebastian vettel

sebastian had retired but he was still as ever present around the paddock when he was able to be. and at this grand prix, he just happened to be watching the press conference from the very back with nico rosberg, former f1 driver now journalist and they, nico and sebastian, were pissed. the both of them had seen elouisa holland grow up and see how she went through her life without her father present and how it devastated her. how the grief was always ever present around her when she did everything. if these pesty journalists actually did their jobs and paid more attention to things, they would have seen the very clear memorial that the aussie girl has in honour of her father on her helmet in the same way carlos has maria di villota's red star on the back of every one of his helmets or the way charles always pays tribute to his father and godfather, jules bianchi. if they had just noticed these things, they wouldn't have needed to ask these questions but, they probably still would have because they loved to prod and try to break down the only female on the grid to test just how mentally strong she was up against the male drivers. they always did it on purpose because they wanted to prove that girls shouldn't be allowed in formula one and elouisa was their scapegoat every single time. however, this time, elouisa knew what they tried to do and she wasn't going to allow them this time.

and that made both sebastian and nico proud of their girl. it made the entire grid proud of their girl. they knew from the beginning that elouisa was not the person to mess with but, people still tried yet, as the saying goes, you fuck around and you find out. and this time, this particular journalist did just that. he fucked around and he found out and he wished he never fucked around. and since max let the interviewer have it, it seemed as though he, elouisa and the rest of the drivers were no longer interested in finishing the press conference so they all stood up and, in solidarity for their fellow driver, they all walked out of the press conference. leaving the poor moderator, who was the sweetest guy in the world, all on his own in a room filled with reporters, having no clue what to do since this was being filmed live with no way of editing or cutting anything out. unless the camerman just decided to cut the cameras entirely before moving onto the rest of the grand prix weekend. which, is what the camerman decided to do anyway. the press conference had begun to drag a little too long and it was no longer the light, fun and easy-going press conference that it had started out as.

as the drivers left the press conference, a breath of air just seemed to evaporate around them. what were they meant to do now? they couldn't remember what was next on the agenda. then, out of nowhere, elouisa bursts into incontrollable giggles. and, this of course, confused the others because how on earth was what just happened that funny? but, they knew not to question her so they also started giggling and the awkwardness just went away.

finally, elouisa calmed down as she rested against max, "...mate, the look on that old dude's face when i told him that my dad was dead dead was hilarious!" elouisa sighed with the biggest smile on her face - the purest of trauma responses as the other drivers looked at her

"it for sure stumped him from saying anything else, that's for sure!" lewis chuckled softly as he shook his head as elouisa nodded her head

"it was supposed to! i said it for that exact reason! i wasn't going to sugarcoat it since it wasn't the first time old mate was begging for my response and he finally got it!" elouisa shrugged her shoulders as max sighed and pulled her closer to him

"and that's why i love you, elouisa!" max hums with content as elouisa doesn't fight against max's embrace but embraces it and moves closer to him

"why thank you, maxie! at least someone's not afraid to say it!" elouisa giggles before she stops as she feels the way the looks of the others change from the momentary joy back to sympathy

elouisa wasn't normally one to get upset over her dad. because, right from the get go, she would always talk about him and she would be able to do that without crying. it was something that actually confused many people because they couldn't believe just how poised she was when she'd talk about her beloved dad so quickly after his devastating loss. how could she not? her dad was her hero, the reason why she even got into motorsport and why she was now a formula one driver even though he would never live long enough to see it. he still had the belief in his daughter that she could make it. that was why she had made it clear that her entire racing career with formula one would be dedicated to her father. but, when it did get quiet within her head and she did get upset about her dad, she knew she could go to any of the other guys in the grid and they'd be there for her to hold her as she fell.

that was when the very distinct memory of driving on the anniversary of her dad's death and winning popped into her head.

ʚ✩ɞ

"...elouisa, i don't want to freak you out considering today's already been an emotional day but, with ten laps left, you are in the lead. max is a whole lap behind you with carlos. fernando is near the back with valtteri and logan. so, you just keep on pushing, okay baby? you keep on going and you get that win, alright?" elouisa's radio engineer's voice crackles as elouisa's breath gets shaky

"thank you! i'm pushing now!" elouisa breathes out before a quick "over" is heard and it's once again quiet between elouisa and her radio engineer

it was the italian grand prix. not only the home race of ferrari but also the home race of elouisa holland who is an australian-italian f1 driver for aston martin, born and raised in australia to italian parents which meant that she could claim both the australian grand prix and all the italian grand prixs as home races. and, that's what she did. however, this time, this italian grand prix in monza was the most important home race for elouisa. it was the first time that she was in the clear running for a podium finish. but, not just any podium finish but a win. so, that's what elouisa and her team at aston martin were vying for at this italian grand prix. and right now, without even realising it, since she had been swamped by grief and agony of the memory of it being the tragic passing of her father, elouisa was inching closer and closer to getting her first ever italian grand prix win at monza.

elouisa doesn't really realise what's going on because she's so dazed and taken out of the joyus moment but, she knows somewhere deep down inside of her that she's finally snagged a win at one of her home races. celebrating with her radio engineer was supposed to be joyful but it was as though she wasn't even in her body. it was as though she was having an outer body experience and watching it happen. she hadn't even realised that she had driven her car into the parc ferme and in front of the p1 placard. so, it took max, who grasped second place and carlos in third place to help her out of the car and take her helmet off that she started to come to again.

"...elouisa! you did it, you won!" max smiled, his helmet also off as his hands squeeze the girl's cheeks as she looks at him with bulging wide eyes in shock

"what? no...no i didn't!" elouisa stammered, she was sure max at some point had overtaken her but when she turned to look at carlos, he shook his head, also smiling wide as he joined max

"yes, you did, hermana sister!" carlos rubbed elouisa's back as tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't understand why or how she had even won a race on a day as agonising and grevious as the annviersary of the death of her beloved dad

"then why don't i feel happy or excited?" elouisa's voice cracked as max and carlos remembered, their eyes sullen

they hadn't forgotten what this day was or the feelings it brought up for their best friend. how could they forget? they grew up with elouisa and her family. of course, they were on the older side of the grid but, they still grew up with elouisa in the same way they grew up in similar circles to the rest of the drivers on the grid. so, they knew and remembered the exact time on this specific day that they got the news that elouisa's dad had died. it was devastating for all of those in the karting and motorsport world because elouisa's dad was well-known and very well loved. and because he was so involved with it, it had come as a huge shock that the news had come out during a karting championship that elouisa was actually participating in alongside george russell, alex albon and oscar piastri. and, exactly like today, on the anniversary of her dad's death, on the day that it was announced her dad had died, she had also won that karting championship, having no knowledge that at home, her mum was grieving over the loss of her husband and the father of her five children who were all at the karting championship for elouisa.

maybe that was why whenever elouisa won on days like anniversaries and the birthday of her dad, it never felt happy or exciting. it always had a tinge of sadness because it was another win that he would never get to witness and be apart of. nor was it a trophy that he would be able to see. so, getting this win at monza was equally amazing for elouisa and aston martin but it was also agonising that it was yet another win that would never be seen and celebrated by and with her dad. maybe that was why her mum had slowly started to stop from coming to races. she couldn't bear to see her little girl on that podium, winning races, without seeing both of her parents there watching. max and carlos could see that the grieving girl was ever so slightly starting to breakdown and they hated it so, they didn't hesitate. pulling her in for a hug, they pulled her closely and held her tightly. the formula one commentators mentioning just how sweet it was that even though they were rivals on track, as soon as they got out of their cars, they were best friends and were there to take care of one another. they also hadn't forgotten what day it was that the italian grand prix managed to fall on this year so, they couldn't do anything else but pay their respects and send their love to elouisa and the rest of the holland family.

ʚ✩ɞ

"...hey, you okay, schat darling? you went off somewhere, you back with us now?" max giggles softly as elouisa blinks, looking max in the eyes and nodded her head

"yeah...yeah, i'm fine, sorry. yeah, i was in fairyland for a little bit. i'm sorry, what were we taking about?" elouisa mumbled as she leaned further into max's protective hold as max smiled

"don't apologise. and whatever we were talking about before doesn't matter anymore, what was going on inside your head? where did you travel off too?" max's voice softened as he got the two of them to sit down on the couch, the other drivers following suite as elouisa scoffed softly

"my first win at monza...on dad's anniversary..." elouisa trailed off as max nodded his head, the other drivers smiling softly, understanding how agonising that was for her

"...why's that schat?" max wondered, he remembers that day like it was yesterday and it haunted him at how elouisa was so hollow and as though it wasn't her controlling her body that entire day

"it's a cruel reminder that it's now been a decade since he's died and i still forget that he's never coming back even when i win races..." elouisa whispered, tears that hadn't been shed since that podium, rose in her eyes as her lip trembled

"...you can cry, lieverd sweetheart." max whispered and that was all that elouisa needed to hear before the tears tumbled down her face as max hugged her close to his chest, her hand covering her face, the other one wrapping around max's middle

the rest of the drivers weren't sure what to do. so they just stood awkwardly, feeling bad for their teammate that her breakdown was most definitely caused by the extremely persistent and abhorrent interviewer from the press conference. that was until lewis led the rest of them out by loudly announcing that they probably had better things to be doing than awkwardly watching max and elouisa. and, max and elouisa both would thank lewis for that later on in the day. not because the other drivers were being ignorant or rude, but it was uncomfortable to see their best friend and teammate cry and not know what to do other than just stand there awkwardly. they for sure could have gone in for a group hug and hopefully used that as a way to maybe make elouisa let out a croaky giggle but, they didn't want to push it or make her feel worse. so, with lewis in the lead, they all left the paddock and allowed max and elouisa to be left on their own. knowing and trusting that max would do everything in his power to get elouisa back to the elouisa they all knew and loved again.

and it wouldn't take too much longer before max was able to dry elouisa's tears and get that smile back on her face. followed by a shrill giggle not too long after he got her smile back. sure, it was a painful reminder that her dad was gone but, he was never forgotten. no matter how many decades went past since the loss of her father, elouisa would always dedicate the rest of her life as a formula one driver to him. because he was the one that truly believed that his little girl had it in him to have what it took to become a formula one driver.

fin

ok this ending was shitty and awful but, whilst i was rewriting an old one-shot that is once again max focused, i had this idea so i decided to write it before i forgot it. and this is what i had come up with. and yes, some of what is written in here is what i've through with the passing of my own dad. the truth starting with that, this year, october 2024, it will be an entire decade since my dad died. meaning that exactly like elouisa, i was also eleven when my dad died as i am now twenty-one. which means, it's getting to the point where i've been remembering him for longer than i've known him and that honestly kind of shatters my heart in a way that, by next year, 2025, he would have been dead for the exact same time as he was in my life and that just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. however, because it hasn't even gotten to ten years yet, i shouldn't be thinking about that just yet! and, another thing that is true that i've included in this story is that, not that long after it had been confirmed by the paramedics that my dad was dead and had stopped responding to cpr and defibrilation, i had said to my mum "when am i getting a new dad?" and, i cannot say that i am proud of that statement. it is truly something that haunts me everytime i remember that i said those words. i was just so confused and had no clue what was happening because everything had happened so quickly that those were the words that just tumbled out of little eleven year old amber's mouth. i was also originally diagnosed with anxiety but then earlier this year, it was rediagnosed as ptsd because of how severe the anxiety within the ptsd was. so, yes, like i said in the author's note at the start, this was a very self-indulgent fic. i hope i didn't make anyone depressed but if i did, i promise i'll help pay for your therapy

#formula one one shot #max verstappen x reader #f1 grid x platonic driver reader #angst #comfort #parental death mention #dark humour jokes referring to death of said parent #if any of these topics trigger you please do not read because it is not my fault if these triggers and warnings are ignored

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