#and what should i subject him too next!!!!!!!

[lirotation]

Astarion in Cyberpunk AU

POV: How you met him in Night City =P

You’re just another low-tier merc in Night City's meat grinder, same as any other. Sure, you smoke, you chug whatever synthalcohol gets your synapses sparking, maybe pop a little Black Lace now and then for kicks. But one thing you don’t do? Pick up joytoys from Jig-Jig. Nah, choom. Not your scene.

Until tonight's clusterfuck.

You were on a gig, dressed to fool the corpo crowd—chrome hidden under slick, expensive synth-leather. Playing at being one of Night City's untouchables. Then your optics lock onto him.

A joytoy, but not just any joytoy. Lux-grade. The kind of beauty that made your targeting systems glitch and your tits perk up. Picking him up wasn’t the plan—never the plan—but here you are, trying to blend in, figuring if all these suits are doing it, maybe you should too.

Preem bastard had a silver tongue worth more than his chrome, smooth like pre-War whiskey. He leaned in close, casually dropped the very intel you need - an exclusive corpo mixer, one hosting Kong Tao mid-level procurement officer - your target - fresh from Guangzhou. The two of you hit it off, chatting over overpriced drinks at the bar, and one thing led to another. His place.

Then you wake up.

Your choom on the other end of the link, screaming. Your brain feels like it’s been through a shredder. You’re sprawled out on some piss-stained mattress, butt naked, weapons gone.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You’ve been played. Conned. During a job, no less. Just your fucking luck.

Gotta escape before they rip you open, gotta figure out where the hell you are. But one thing’s for sure—you’re gonna find that pretty bastard, and when you do, he’s got a world of hurt coming his way. _______

Your head’s pounding, but you’ve been in tighter spots before. You force a reboot, running a quick scan. Typical corpo blacksite flophouse—The stink of blood, sweat, and bad decisions clings to the walls.

You find a rusted shard of metal and grip it tight. Better than nothing. You rigged the lock and slipped out of the room, the sound of your bare feet drowned out by the buzz of cheap fluorescents overhead.

The hall’s empty. Nobody watching the cams—amateurs. You find a storage room with your gear dumped in a corner like garbage. Your Militech pistol? Check. punknife? Check. Even your boots. Slipping them on feels like hugging an old friend.

Now clothed and armed, you should be bailing, cutting your losses. But the faint sound of muffled screams crawls under your skin, pulling you back into the fray.

You creep closer, the door half-open. Inside, him.

The joytoy. Astarion.

Strapped down like a Maelstrom test subject, neural wires spiderwebbing from his temples into some black-market brain-dance rig. The machine's whining like a dying cat, each pulse making him scream. Some chrome-headed ganger's working the controls, grinning like he's watching prime-time BD entertainment.

“Picked yourself a zero, didn't ya? No creds, no dirt—just a fucking merc with nothin’ to give. You are lucky boss is not in town.” the ganger sneers, twisting a dial, “What good’s a pretty face if it doesn’t deliver?”

Astarion convulses, tears streaking his otherwise flawless face, “I—tried,” he whispers.  "Please, give me another chance.”

Something snaps in your gut. You’ve seen people broken, but this guy? He’s built to endure. Still, this is next-level fucked.

Your blade whispers through the air, clean and silent. The ganger drops, and you catch the falling remote and cut the power to the rig.

Astarion slumps, breathing shallow. You free him, pulling the wires from his skin. He flinches but doesn’t resist.

“Can you walk?” you ask, dragging him to his feet.

He groans but nods. “I’ve had worse.”

The two of you fight your way out, bullets and curses flying. By the time you hit the street, you’re out of breath and out of ammo, but alive. Barely.

You lean against a wall, wiping blood off your hands. “I should fucking gut you for this,” you say, leveling him with a glare.

Astarion chuckles, though it’s more pained than amused. “I’m flattered. But I was under orders, if that softens the blow.”

“Doesn’t,” you snap.

Still, you don’t hurt him. Just turn to leave, figuring he’ll disappear back into whatever pit he crawled out of. But when you glance back, he’s trailing behind you.

“What are you doing?” you snap again, tired and still on edge.

“I have nowhere else to go,” he says softly, eyes downcast, his voice a quiet plea.

“Not my problem,” you grumble, turning to keep walking.

“Wait,” he calls out, stepping closer. When you face him again, the vulnerability in his posture is tinged with a familiar, deliberate charm. His lips curve into the barest hint of a smile. “I could… make it up to you.  I’m quite skilled at certain things”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That so? You think I’m just gonna take you in because you bat your lashes?”

“Not just because of that,” he murmurs, tilting his head just enough to catch the faint light. “I can be useful. I wasn't lying before, you know? the mixer? I can get you in.”

You pause, damn it he is beautiful. He shifts closer, his voice dipping into something silkier. “Let me stay, just for a while. I’ll keep out of your way. Or,” he adds, his smile sharpening ever so slightly, “if you’d rather, I could be very in your way. Whatever you prefer.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Fine. One screw-up, though, and you’re out. Got it?”

“Crystal clear,” he purrs, bowing his head slightly. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

As he falls into step beside you, you mutter under your breath. “Already regretting it.”

His soft chuckle is barely audible, but it lingers all the way home.

[girlsoutlate]

this is my new account, so i'm reposting my 1 piece of work, hope you enjoy!!

readers thoughts are in pink, ever so light implied john price x reader, light questionable behaviour from men (not 141)

thinking about subtle sarcastic reader, especially to the type of man she'd encounter while working in the army. being a civilian and a woman many on base just looked over her, or looked too intensely at certain parts of her. but after months of working she's found her place, she's now respected by those who surround her. but what happens when some higher ups come and visit?

working closely with the 141 was no easy task. going from mundane paperwork to the flurry of action from a mission was difficult for you to handle, let alone helping them. you'd grown closer to them though, no more bouts of shyness stopping you from being yourself. instead you'd grown in to steady workplace banter with all.

unfortunately today couldn't be one of those days as some ever so important higher ups were holding a meeting with the 141, and since you handle the majority of the paperwork you were so graciously invited to attend.

you wished you had a little bit more time to prepare for this. these were important people, who wouldn't be nervous? apart from soap who appeared with a shit-eating grin at your office door, gifting you another surprise meeting. or gaz who could charm any conversation his way a bit too easily, with suave compliments and easy-going humour. don't forget ghost who doesn't even need to look engaged because of his mask, or be expected to speak due to his... unique personality. oh and the captain has been to countless of these meetings, so he can't empathise with you either.

but, one thing you could all agree on is that meetings were incredibly boring. for two reasons mostly. either the attendees were so dense it seemed they hadn't stepped on planet earth before, let alone a military base. or the subject matter was so bland you all wondered why there needed to be a meeting in the first place.

as your heels tapped hastily along the hallway you wondered which it would be. arriving barely on time with a tight clutch on haphazardly organised documents and a cup of coffee you opened the door, and had an inkling it wouldn't be any. you were met with two male voices. one high, clipped and plummy, the other harsh and american.

"-- that's what i expected from someone of her-oh hello! nice to finally meet you" the man at the head of the table said. an older, short and stout man with thin wire-rimmed glasses and a black tailored suit. a typical english man in an authoritative position. "ah, sorry i was late you'll have to excuse me. i thought to bring my extra notes, i hope i didn't make you wait long." you replied. "not at all, my colleague mr sullivan and i were discussing stories from our base". your gaze flicked over to what must be the source of the american voice. perfectly gold hair stuck down with copious amounts of gel, paired with lightly tanned skin and a too white smile didn't make it hard to guess. "civilians eh?" the taller man began "don't know what's up with the ones here, especially the woman we were just talki-"

"right" prices deep gravely voice cut over the grating one "meeting should start we're all 'ere". murmurs of agreement filled the room, and so did glances between the 141 that you didn't pick upon. however you did notice they were unusually quiet though you brushed it off, they were probably tired. "gosh where are my manners" the man at the head of the table exclaimed "my name is mr buckton and i'll be leading this meeting." briskly taking a few steps towards you he shook your hand roughly. being polite you attempted to make eye contact, yet his eyes were still looking straight ahead? lingering only on your chest for a moment he then made eye contact with you, a wide grin crept on his face. "come, your seat is next to mine" he prompted, gesturing you to walk infront of him and take your seat. as you walked infront of him his eyes now travelled further south. a small grimace shared from gaz to soap went undetected by the three sitting at the top of the table. mr buckton at the head, you to his left and then the captain and ghost next to you. opposite was mr sullivan, with gaz then soap next to him. with you all seated the meeting began.

for once the meeting was actually worth being held. despite it not being anything too serious you did well, even with your nerves. you answered questions and expanded in the points of others. as you suggested plans of action mr buckton steadily kept his eyes on you, while mr sullivan constantly scribbled notes down. soon enough the meeting was a breeze. well for about twenty minutes. across from you, mr sullivan was very inquisitive about anything you said. asking you to back it up or to show proof. not thinking much of it you obliged. it was a little odd but you knew your stuff and why not show off infront of higher ups? however the sentiment was not shared with the rest of the 141. who even asked for evidence about evidence? they understood wanting clarification on certain things, but it was growing incessant now. you were capable of your job and they knew that - that's why you were there. price especially helped you in the growing awkwardness; his job had never been so easy with you working underneath him. gaz and soap constantly gave eachother questioning glances, not wanting to explicitly speak up if their captain didn't. ghost was pissed he couldn't hide his eyes rolling as well as his scowl behind his balaclava. although they were growing increasingly annoyed the meeting continued, with more ridiculous questions being asked. professionalism was continued with a grim expression for another twenty minutes or so. hardly.

until mr sullivan basically dislocated his back by stretching in his chair with an exaggerated yawn leaving his cavernous mouth. "thought you woulda brought coffee since you kept us waiting for so long, cant believe you didn't make me some fresh". with beady eyes on you he smiled lazily. oh he has to be joking you thought to yourself there's no way this guy is real. play them at their own game. "why would i make more? i've already got some for myself" you smiled sickly back at him back, one that gaz has used on you many times when he's late giving you a report.

the table fell unusually silent again, and that's when you noticed it. the crackling of unease filling the air. sharp eyes from the 141 darted from eachother to you, to mr sullivan and back again.

"don't be so mean, i'm literally a dying man" he snarkily replied, eyeing you coolly. "one can hope" ghost muttered under his breath.

"i have urgent needs that need to be taken care of, won't you help?". mr sullivan continued, a slimy smile displayed as he noted the effect his badly hidden innuendo had on you. you felt your cheeks warm. he smirked at this, finally affecting you after bugging you the whole bloody meeting. fuck impressing him he's an arsehole.

"well, i'm sure you'll be alright by yourself. seems it happens a lot." you said back, indifferent. as soon as that left your mouth a strange sharp bark that hastily turned in to a cough came from soap. all heads from the table whipped to look at him. "pardon me" he shakily said, quickly taking a sip of his drink, watery eyes not straying from the blank wall above ghosts head.

"let's get back on track hmm?" mr buckton suggested "so cheeky, must be that time of the month". he turned to you with an eyebrow raised with an impish grin.

what. what the actual fuck. not only was this unprofessional, but who even though if that? let alone say it out loud.

price coughed uncomfortably and turned away. gaz and ghost looked at eachother in disbelief. and soap was finding that wall even more interesting. surely it could not get any worse.

"oh you all know what women are like, don't pretend. especially when they're frustrated" mr buckton let out a giggle "you know from work". you actually spluttered, eyes wide with disbelief. the feeling of unease in the air was now a full jolt of electricity. just as you felt price boiling with anger you leaned forwards to mr buckton. if everyone on the table wasn't watching you, they certainly were now.

"tell me" you said. mr buckton looked at you shocked, mouth gaping open. "tell me what women are like. you know i've been so airheaded this last week i hardly know my left from my right!". just to amp it up a little you slowly crossed your arms just underneath your chest, accentuating it. "you've explained so much to me this meeting surely you could explain this?"

the 141's eyes grew to the size of saucers, there's no way these two would actually fall for this? right? at this point mr bucktons and mr sullivans jaws were practically falling off. the latter was sadly the quickest to start talking 'so, when women start-". a smart rap in the door interrupted. a male voice said seriously

"emergency call for you mr buckton".

"oh, oh you must excuse us. i have to end this meeting" mr buckton declared "i simply cant miss this". messily shuffling their papers together both men swiftly said their goodbyes to you all. with that they just about made it out the door without tripping over their own legs.

a second passed after the door banged shut before gaz burst out in howls of laughter, clutching his ribs, soon joined by soap who could barely look at the wall for any longer. ghost stared at the door muttering who knows what under his breath and the captain sat there with his gaze fixated on the table mortified. he turned his head to you apologising profusely and asking if you're okay.

you just nodded vaguely and replied "men"

all likes, reblogs and comments are so appreciated!! this is my first time writing something properly so i hope you enjoyed it

[ashlynnfall]

group project with jayce and vi - arcane x reader

summary: blurb about you being stuck with vi and jayce for a group project

tags: arcane fluff (because we deserve it after this show), no spoilers (but mentions of s2 scenes and characters), silly, stupid, reader insert, school au, no trauma au, hextech exists in this world, somewhat ooc vi and jayce

warnings: cussing

word count: about 2.4k

a/n: this is inspired by the current vi and jayce accomplishing nothing memes. i love that joke so much, so i decided to write a little story about it! also jinx remains as powder in this since no tragedy has happened. this is my first fic ever, so any advice on how to be a better writer would be greatly appreciated! thanks for reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------it's your favorite class about your favorite subject full of your favorite people, so what could go wrong?

literally everything, apparently.

your teacher, mr. heimerdinger, announces a group project to the class. soon after, everyone chatters in excitement because you all like each other, so no matter what, you'll all end up with a good group. he starts calling names and organizing people into groups of three. as the options for your group narrow down, you look around to see who hasn't been called yet.

vi...ekko...ooh mel would be great for this, you think to yourself as you survey the crowd.

"mel, ekko, and caitlyn! you're a group," heimerdinger calls out, causing you and the class to frown.

"ugh, talk about unfair," one student murmurs.

"viktor, skylar, and elora, you're a group."

the options keep getting smaller, and as you look to see who hasn't been grouped yet, a horrible realization hits you. all that's left is you, vi, and...

no.

"jayce," heimerdinger says.

stop it now.

"vi."

this isn't happening.

to your dismay, heimerdinger calls your name. you turn to look at vi and jayce who are sitting next to each other, currently celebrating the pair up.

"hell yeah!" vi exclaims, raising a hand up to high five jayce. jayce enthusiastically moves his hand to hers-

and misses her hand.

seriously, how do you miss an unmoving target?

you watch as these bumbling fools try two more times before they can actually hit the high five.

you've got to be fucking kidding me.

jayce talis, the golden boy of the grade. he's a genius inventor with incredible ideas that will take him far in life. known to be smart and charismatic, most people would love to be grouped up with him for any assignment. as one of heimerdinger's star pupils, being his partner should be good news right?

wrong.

vi, the cool girl of the grade. she's not the most academically gifted person, but she does all of her work and tries her hardest to contribute to the group. she's known to be an amazing fighter and has a gift for making people feel better. rumor has it that caitlyn kiramman once went on a total rampage after losing her mother's expensive necklace. she was a raging asshole for a week, spewing mean things to anyone who stood in her way. vi was out sick for that week, so there was no one to console caitlyn.

when vi returned to school, she called caitlyn "cupcake" one time, causing her to switch sides immediately, reverting back to the sweet girl she's known to be. oh, and vi found the necklace too!

so a team up between a boy genius and a girl with a big heart should be amazing news. however, despite all of their incredible traits, when jayce and vi work together, all of that shit disappears.

they've been paired up together for projects before, and they're the only ones who love this match up. everyone else reacts in horror.

they're always onto absolutely nothing, cooking up plans and ideas that fail so miserably, it's almost impressive. during a lesson on hextech, they had the simple task of using a comically large hammer to aim and hit a target. the hammer was too big for vi to hold alone, so they used the power of friendship to hold it up together. they aimed for the target, and shot a blast.

it completely missed.

in fact, they missed so bad, that it ended up shooting through a window, resulting in it completely shattering. students had to dive for cover from flying glass shards. this prompted a severe tongue lashing from a very angry heimerdinger, who now had to pay for window repairs and do paperwork.

there was another time where they were sparring with some older classmates, got way too into the fight. they were in the middle of hyping each other up when a kid accidentally got in the way of their brawl. they totally knocked him on his ass, the poor thing got sent straight to the ground.

he recovered soon after, but he went home with a bloody nose the day of the impact. jayce was the one who dealt the punch, so he was wracked with guilt for the child he just injured. he sent the family some flowers as an apology, to which the mom responded with dead roses and a note saying: "eat shit".

he is not popular in that family.

knowing you're in for a disaster, you accept your fate, and walk over to a beaming jayce and vi. they are so excited to be partnered up with you, and it would be sweet sight if they weren't, well, them.

"this project is due next class, so please decide on a time outside of school to complete this. we have a lecture to finish," heimerdinger instructs.

vi offers her house, to which you and jayce agree. you're supposed to meet there about four hours from now, which isn't nearly enough time for you to prepare for the bullshit.

here we go.

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

four hours later, you're knocking on vi's door, trying to calm your already spiked nerves. it swings open to reveal a small girl with two blue braids.

"hi!" powder exclaims as she wraps you into a tight hug. it's been a while since you've seen vi's little sister, and you're relieved to know that at least one person in this house has sanity.

the two of you catch up for a bit while you wait for vi to bring you upstairs. powder tells you about her little crush on ekko, rambling happily about their adventures while you laugh at their antics.

ten minutes pass and vi still hasn't come down to get you, so now you're annoyed. that annoyance quickly turns into concern as a loud bang from upstairs shakes the entire house.

what the hell?

you and powder rush upstairs to see what the commotion is about. nearly ripping vi's bedroom door off its hinges in fear, you two run inside to make sure everyone's alright.

you look at the scene with disappointment as you see dumb and dumber standing in shock, eyes directed to the damage they just created. there's a giant dent in the floor, no doubt made by the hammer in jayce's hand. vi's giant gauntlets are at her side, which leads you to infer that they were sparring before the impact.

jayce is always doing some type of extreme damage with that hammer, you facepalm as you take in the scene.

you give them both a withering glare then yell at their foolishness.

"you idiots do realize that we're supposed to improve the hextech, not destroy buildings with it, right?"

powder runs downstairs to tell uncle vander what happened, and you sigh in frustration while the other two carefully set their weapons onto the ground.

"sooo...we should get started on the project now, yeah?" jayce offers as his hand rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to fix the mood.

you let out an exasperated sigh.

"yeah, let's get started."

vi and jayce add another disastrous duo moment to their record. you've lost count of all their failures at this point.

during the entire project, they say stupid ideas or do reckless things. jayce swings the hammer around with zero regard for his surroundings, and laughs whenever vi sticks up her middle finger in the gauntlets. whenever one of them says something that sounds remotely smart, the other one says, "EXACTLYYYYY."

"do you think if we wrap the hammer in foam, we can prevent it from breaking things?" vi asks jayce, who shoots her a look of disbelief.

"you can't be serious," he responds in a critical tone.

you nearly jump for joy as you watch their interaction. for the first time ever, there's hope that one of them will finally be smart in the other one's presence.

"we should wrap it in air pillows, not foam. regardless, that's a great idea! we should test it out," jayce enthuses as he reaches for the hammer.

your hope shatters into a million pieces, just like that window they destroyed.

"no, no, no, no, no!" you interject as you swat his hand away, preventing them from causing more destruction.

"what crawled up your ass today?" jayce asks, offended by your behavior.

"heimerdinger's foot definitely did because you keep screwing up on his exams. don't hate on us because you have a D in this class," vi insults as she completely airs out your business in front of jayce.

jayce yells "OHHHHH" in response, then goes to dap up vi for flaming you. putting your head in your hands, you practice deep breathing so you don't completely lose your shit. it's not your fault that runes and hex crystals are so confusing!

uncle vander stops by shortly after the argument to inspect the damage, loses his mind, then goes to call uncle silco for assistance. you, vi, and jayce continue the project and pretend like vander isn't infuriated with all of you. you didn't even do anything but you still get wrapped up in this mess.

halfway through the project, vi gets a facetime call from caitlyn, to which she immediately responds. if you had a dime for every time vi called her "cupcake", you'd be a millionaire.

things get even more annoying when jayce gets a facetime call from mel, who he also immediately responds to. your friends yap to their girlfriends while you continue working on the project, silently reflecting on how terrible your luck is.

despite their annoying tendencies and horrific performance as a duo, they're somewhat helpful during the project. jayce uses his hextech knowledge to create solid ideas for improving the weapons. the secret to getting him to be his genius self? tell vi she isn't allowed to speak or be in the room while he works. you gave the same rule to jayce when it was vi's turn to contribute, and she actually came up with solid ideas for weapon functionality and protection.

turns out, separating them is a brilliant idea. you mentally pat yourself on the back for your effective plan.

the three of you finish the project and decide to do a movie night in celebration. jayce and vi miraculously land a high five first try, which makes you smile. they then take turns giving you a high five, making your smile wider. the pair gets too confident and tries to do a complicated handshake, which per usual, goes terribly.

jayce accidentally smacks vi (how does this even happen?), and vi punches his arm in return. the two playfully duke it out while you pull out your phone to record them for your private story. you caption the video "mfs when they horrifically fumble a situationship".

when they finish the fight, you realize you can't be their babysitter anymore. desperate to not be stuck with the moron brigade, you ask to invite the rest of the friend group, and vi agrees, complimenting you for coming up with a great idea.

"it's pretty easy to have great ideas when you two are full of terrible ones," powder shouts from the kitchen.

even though vi is taller, older, and arguably stronger, she is always getting destroyed by powder in a verbal battle. it's what makes their dynamic so amazing. vi opens her mouth to shout something back, but you put your hand on her shoulder and shake your head, letting her know it's no use arguing back.

about thirty minutes later, you're sitting in the living room with vi, jayce, mel, caitlyn, ekko, viktor, skylar, elora, powder and her new friend isha, claggor, and milo. you all watch a comedy movie to unwind from the stress of the day, and soon become thoroughly entertained by the movie's ridiculous humor. jayce and vi throw popcorn at each other, which annoys everyone. knowing there was no stopping them, you and mel make a bet on who will win. you choose vi and she chooses jayce like a supportive girlfriend.

mel slides you a crisp five dollar bill halfway through the movie.

as you sit and watch, surrounded by your friends who are full of the happiness and light that they deserve, you decide that maybe a group project with vi and jayce didn't turn out to be such a bad thing after all.

the hangout is full of jokes, silly arguments, laughs, and unbridled joy. even vander and silco stop by to check in on everyone from time to time, smiling at each other as they reminisce about their days as students. whenever those two enter the room, vi and jayce's bodies go rigid with stillness, trying to attract as little attention as possible from the angry set of uncles.

it was an amazing night of bonding with your friends and basking in the comfort of good company. you make a mental note to plan more of these, hoping to give your friends the enjoyment they deserve. when the movie ends, everyone gets off the couches to clean up as they discuss their thoughts on the movie. vi approaches you with a big grin on her face, then has the audacity to deliver the following line:

"this was so fun, the three of us should totally be partners again!"

since you're in such high spirits, you consider giving jayce and vi another chance. maybe they aren't all that disastrous, and maybe, just maybe, they can prove to be a competent duo-

"totally! for our next project we should try seeing how powerful a hextech blast can get! maybe we should go to the park and shoot it into the sky?" jayce schemes while vi's face lights up in excitement at the prospect of another hextech hangout.

never mind, you roll your eyes and mentally chastise yourself for even thinking of giving this another shot. these morons couldn't find a way out of their own asses if they were handed a map.

you fervently shut down their plan before they try making any more.

"absolutely not."

jayce and vi are definitely going down in history as one of the worst duos of all time.

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey guys... this is my first fic.. and for god's sake I'm so excited.... I hope you like the plot. And yes, I'm open to requests, girl! Enjoy reading :)

[Notice: my native language is not English, forgive me if there are any mistakes 🙏]

Subject: Fight in the Rain!

~~~~~~~~

If you were to describe today with one word, it would be shit.

You and Rafe went out to a dinner that you thought was special. The first moments were beautiful. You both were having a good time. Wine, food and a handsome gentleman Rafe... Isn't it heaven? The happiness didn't last long. When the tactless man at the table across from you sent a bottle of champagne to your table and his number with it, Rafe's veins started to boil with blood and anger.

Someone was trying to walk next to him, to his lover, to his lover.

Rafe was not a calm man, he never was. So he took the champagne in his hand and walked towards the man. If eyes could kill someone, this pimp had been killed many times by Rafe. As you watched him nervously, trying to grab his arm, Rafe broke the champagne in his hand over the man’s head.

Yes, your psychopathic lover.

And now, after all the chaos, you were sitting in the car, driving home. Rafe’s palm was bruised and bleeding from the shards of the champagne bottle. He was driving furiously as you carefully wrapped his hand.

“I wonder when you’ll finally get your temper under control,” you grumbled.

Rafe glared at you as he tried to control his anger. “That fucking pimp should be thankful I didn’t stick a champagne bottle up his ass.”

You just rolled your eyes. You finished cleaning your hands as the car drove to Rafe’s house in the pouring rain. You could feel the tension in the car as you sat there silently.

“I should have killed him,” Rafe said angrily, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. “I should have buried him in that restaurant.”

You didn’t say anything. This happened a lot. When Rafe got angry, he would mutter to himself and when he finally calmed down, he would start talking to you. You were sure this guy was a real psychopath.

Rafe looked at you while smoking his cigarette angrily. “You shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, are you going to be a bitch to me?”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The reason a man walked up to you was because you were wearing a short dress? Seriously? Was this man serious? “Are you serious, Rafe?” You frowned at him.

"Oh, come on Yn. Don't look at me like that. You caught that man's attention by wearing that fucking dress. That's what you wanted. To be a whore." He growled, blowing smoke from him cigarette.

You wore this dress for Rafe. Not for any other man. You clenched your jaw in anger, not going to last until you got home. You turned to Rafe as he sneered at you.

"Stop the car."

Rafe frowned. He looked at you as he tossed his cigarette out the window. “What are you fuckinh talking about?” When he stops the car, you grab your bag without turning to him and get out of the car. You can't stand him calling you a whore. You weren't a whore. You never were.

You were already crying with anger when Rafe got out of the car, cursing. Rafe grabbed your arm and turned you towards him as you drove through the rain. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

You pushed him away. You pulled away from him, your body boiling with anger. But Rafe didn’t let you. He grabbed your arm tighter. “Are you trying to be a spoiled slut?! Wasn’t it enough to get that pimp’s attention?!”

Your hand, which you knew was tiny, flew up in anger and hit Rafe's cheek. You hadn't expected him to be so harsh either. But his disrespect was too much. "You're not the Rafe I know." Actually, that was exactly it. Psychotic, rude, Rafe.

When Rafe stood there in shock from the slap, you continued to cry in anger and turned your back and walked away from him. Your hands were shaking and it wasn't because of the rain. When you took a few steps, you felt two strong arms around your waist. He pulled your shaking and wet body to him. Your back hit his broad chest. Your efforts to push him away were in vain as his face rested on your neck. "Baby...." you gasped when his muffled voice reached your ears.

“Let me go…” your weak voice was mixed with the rain as your body leaned against his chest. Your eyes closed as Rafe held you closer to him. Your mascara was running down your face. Your black satin dress was soaked. The rain was cold, but the body you were leaning on and the arms that would have wrapped around your belly twice if they weren’t embarrassed were warm.

“Sshhhh…” Rafe muttered quietly, burying his face in your neck. “I’ll never… never let you go…” he felt you go limp in his arms as he gently kissed your neck. You knew you were crushing your pride underfoot, but damn it, you couldn’t help but feel his arms around you and wth his lips on your neck, and his voice muffled... what were you going to do but not give yourself over to him?

After a few minutes, when your hiccups had subsided and your crying had slowed down, Rafe removed your head from your neck and turned you towards him. "Look at me..." He gently lifted your chin. There was no anger in his blue eyes. There was compassion. A feeling he showed only for you. The shield in his eyes was lifted. There’s your Rafe.

"I'm sorry, okay? I meant to call you that... I mean call you bitch- damn it baby... I didn't mean to call you that shitty word..." He searched your eyes for any emotion as he looked at you. You looked up at him. You nodded silently. Your heart was still broken.

"Shit...." You looked up at Rafe as his huge hands cupped your cheeks. "My baby... my beautiful girl... my love..." the words were making you drunker than the wine you were drinking. "I never meant to break that little heart of yours. I'm sorry... I'm sorry so hard... I... I don't know how to handle this..."

"I see..." Rafe felt worse when you spoke with your cracked voice. He looked at you while cursing himself and suddenly fell to his knees. He looked at you while you frowned at him. "Rafe? What are you doing?"

"Respect.... you thought I didn't respect you... I respect you more than I respect myself..." Rafe on his knees just out of respect for you... fuck, my god....

"Rafe, get up... come on..." you looked around as he continued to look into your eyes. The dark street was empty. You bent down in front of him and became the same height as him. "idiot... you're a complete idiot..."

If anyone else had insulted him he would probably be buried, but Rafe smiled slightly at you as you called him an idiot. “I’m your idiot... sorry baby, I–” before he could finish his sentence your hands tangled in his wet blonde hair and you kissed him.

Smiling at the groan you heard coming from his throat, Rafe quickly stood up and lifted you up as well. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you.

"Fuck, baby..." He looked up at you, breathless, as Rafe's thick finger brushed against your wet lips. He kissed you hungrily as you stared at his lips. His arms wrapped around your slender legs and kissed you hard as he pressed your back against his car.

He kissed you until you were moaning and grinding yourself against his hardness. He moaned when you pulled his hair and whispered against his lips. "Fuck me until I forget how mad I am at you.." that was the last straw.

And Rafe fucked you in the backseat of his car until daylight, until the sun came up...

Hey, guys! I hope you like this....

When I wrote this episode, I wanted to write in a mood somewhere between season 2 and season 3 Rafe. A psychopath but a guy who respects his girl... you know he.

Don't forget to give information about the department you want! bye!

[spacetime1969]

Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!

I have had the wonderful opportunity to write a fic inspired by the art of the wonderful @arisu-artnfics as part of @ecto-implosion. I ended up thinking it would be fun to bring in a trope from a completely different fandom, and write a Peter Parker Field Trip fic for Danny Fenton. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Magic, Dragons, and Storms? Oh my!

Ao3 | First | Previous | Next

Technus’s voice sounded over the speaker. “Welcome to the Time Lost Lands, students! The home of Queen Dorathea and her subjects.”

“Woah is that a castle?” one of Dash’s classmates asked.

Dash looked out the window and sure enough, there was a massive medieval castle right out the window.

“Is that a dragon!” Dash couldn’t help his yell as he spotted a large winged reptile climbing out from behind the castle.

Manson just grinned at him. “Yep.”

The Dragon jumped from the tower and started flying towards them. Dash made a very manly noise of surprise. Definitely not a terrified squeal. (AN: This is a lie. He actually did a very good impression of a baby otter)

The Dragon was getting closer and closer, and everyone, other than the nerds, was getting progressively more freaked out. Fenton and his friends on the other hand didn’t even flinch as the massive mythical creature landed on top of the bus.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY... Oh, hello Lady Samantha. How are you this fine morning.” Halfway through its booming yell the dragon transformed into a woman with long blond hair who smiled at Manson.

“Hi Dora!” Manson smiled back. “Our class fell through a natural portal and we’re trying to get home. Think you can point us in the direction of the Far Frozen?”

“Well I can certainly give you directions, but I’m afraid they won’t be much help. The next stop on your journey is Box Ghost and Lunch Lady’s lair, which is currently only accessible through The Storm of Doom.” Dash could hear the capital letters in that name. He looked out into the Ghost Zone where the ghost was pointing and saw a patch of dark clouds. It didn’t look like much, but something about it scared him.

“Oh no, are they alright?” Fenton asked. He and his friends actually looked concerned.

Now Dash would admit that he wasn’t the best at math, but if those four were actually scared of something after how relaxed they had been at everything else in this dimension, then Dash should probably be just as scared. (AN: Dash made an error in his calculations, he should have been far more scared than he was)

“Last I heard from them they were preparing their lair for the storm. So I assume they are doing alright, but we won’t know for sure until the storm passes,” the ghost queen said.

“Speaking of which, that storm is heading this way!” Technus’s voice said over the bus speakers.

The other ghost, Dora, nodded. “Yes, I have been working to prepare the castle and move my citizens inside for the storm. You and yours are welcome to shelter with us Lady Sam.”

Manson and her friends share a look. “The last thing we want is to be stuck in The Storm of Doom.” Valarie said.

Fenton and Foley both nodded. “Yeah, the castle is probably one of the safest places to ride it out. I vote we take Dora up on her offer,” Fenton said.

“Hang on just a minute!” Mr. Lancer interrupted. “Since when were the four of you in charge!”

Foley shrugged. “Hey, Technus!” he said, turning to the front of the bus. “What are the odds on us surviving if we try and fly through The Storm of Doom?”

“My current calculations indicate a 5% chance of immediate death.”

Mr Lancer’s eyes widened. “Well that’s not too bad,” he managed to stammer out, but Technus kept going.

“A 30% chance of your classmates' blood boiling in their veins. A 24% chance of their brains freezing solid. A 4% chance of death by electrocution. A 10% chance of death by poisonous gasses. A 7% chance of spaghettification. A 9% chance of death by eldritch madness, 6% chance of Danny, Valarie, and I being the only survivors, 3% chance of you and Sam also surviving, and a 2% chance of more than half of your classmates surviving. The odds of everyone surviving is less than 0.01% and statistically insignificant, so I rounded it out.” Technus sounded way too cheerful to be discussing their, apparently very probable, deaths.

Mr. Lancer’s face had gotten paler and paler as the ghost spoke. He stumbled into his seat, Foley just smirking at him. “So, do you want to do that? Or do you want to spend the night in a very secure castle and not die a horrible death?”

“Besides,” Fenton held up a glowing green post-it note that he had gotten from... Dash had no idea where he had gotten it from, “time is apparently moving at a two to one ratio to earth right now, so every two hours we spend here only one is passing on earth. So we have plenty of time.” No one bothered to ask him how he knew that.

Mr Lancer just nodded and slumped farther into the bus seat.

Manson turned back to the ghost dragon lady floating outside the bus and smiled at her, bowing at the waist. “We humbly accept your offer of shelter, Queen Dorathea of the Time Lost Lands.”

The Ghost, Queen Dorathea, nodded back at Manson. “The Time Lost Lands do not forget those who helped us find our path to the future, you and yours will always be able to find shelter in our walls, Lady Samantha.”

The solemness that had fallen over the group hung for a moment, before Manson straightened and smiled at the ghost. “Thanks Dora, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course Sam! I’m always glad to have you stop by! Have your vehicle land in the field by the stables. It should be safe from the storm there.”

They did as ordered, and the bus came to a stop next to a stable with, were those unicorns? (Star would later inform him that they were actually alicorns.)

They all hopped out of the bus and looked around at the castle. It was even more impressive up close. The walls absolutely towered over them, and they made Dash feel very small.

Off to the side he could see Fenton and his friends talking to Mr. Lancer, but they were too quiet for him to hear what they were saying. He wasn’t gonna have to wait long to find out what they were talking about though, since Mr. Lancer called them all to gather around.

“Alright class. Miss Manson and Mr. Foley are going to go find out how long we will have to wait out the storm. In the meantime, I encourage you all to eat your lunches. If you were planning to buy lunch at the planetarium please raise your hand, Mr. Fenton has offered to hand out Fenton Sustenance Crackers™ to anyone without a pre-packed lunch.”

Dash felt his lunch money in his pocket and winced, he didn’t exactly want to take Fenton’s charity, but he had worked up quite the appetite since they had fallen into the Ghost Zone, so he raised his hand. Next to him, Kwan raised his hand too.

Fenton slowly made his way around the group and passed the crackers out. When he approached the two jocks Dash was surprised to see that they were literal crackers, like a saltine. For some reason he had been expecting more. Fenton smirked at him and split the cracker in half, handing one half to each of them. Dash stared at it.

“Is this really it?” he asked.

Fenton just smiled. “Yep, trust me, that’s all you’re gonna need.”

Dash shared a look with Kwan as Fenton continued onto the rest of the group. Kwan just shrugged at him and the two inspected the crackers they had been handed. It looked like a normal cracker, for the most part. Dash was pretty sure the slightly green hue was just the lighting, but he still hesitated.

Dash’s stomach rumbled and he shrugged. It was better than nothing. He tossed the cracker into his mouth.

It tasted strange, both citrusy and bland, while also tasting like absolutely nothing. The taste was nothing compared to what happened when he swallowed though. He could feel the cracker slide down his throat and into his stomach, and then expand.

“Oh that’s really weird,” Kwan said with a shudder.

“You get used to it!” Fenton yelled from across the field.

Dash shuddered, he really, really hoped he never did. He would give Fenton one thing though, the crackers certainly worked. His stomach felt like he had just eaten an entire 16” pizza by himself.

He joined the other students as they sat in the grass eating and talking. For a moment he forgot that they weren’t just hanging out on the football field back at Casper High. Manson and Foley returning with the green skinned ghost queen broke the illusion though.

The group hurried over to Fenton, and Valarie. Dash didn’t recognize what Valarie and Danny did, that the group were only avoiding breaking into a sprint to not cause a panic.

Dash was just close enough to over hear their whispered conversation.

“Danny we have bad news,” Manson said.

“Really bad news. The storm’s drifted further than expected. The Core is heading straight for us,” Foley sounded scared, and that scared Dash. The look on Fenton’s face pushed him from scared to terrified.

Fenton stood up from where he had been leaning against the bus, straightening and turning to the ghostly queen who had offered them shelter. “Queen Dorathea, how may I be of service to you and your people.”

The Queen bowed her head to Fenton. “Your friends have agreed to assist the royal mage in raising a shield around the castle. But I fear that without your power they will be unable to outlast the storm.” The queen made eye contact with Fenton “I ask for your aid in this, K-”

Fenton interrupted the queen. “Just Danny right now, Dora.” Fenton looked over at the rest of the class, who were obviously trying to listen in to their conversation. He made brief eye contact with Dash before turning back to Queen Dorathea. “But you will have my assistance in any way you require it.”

Fenton turned to Valerie. “Come on, let’s go let Lancer know what’s going on.” He turned back to the Ghost and bowed. “We'll be back soon.”

They hurried over to Mr. Lancer. Dash wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he could see the way Lancer tried to argue with Fenton only for him to stand firm. Eventually Lancer slumped and seemed to give permission.

Fenton grabbed his bag and made his way back to his friends and the queen. “Alright, let’s go. Val, you got things covered here?”

She nodded, before pulling Fenton and the others into a quick hug. Then they walked away, leaving the class whispering behind them.

There was no sun in the ghost zone but it certainly felt like it was setting as the green sky grew darker and the howling noise of the storm began to grow louder and louder.

Dash and the other A-Listers watched as the storm rolled over them, the clouds covering the sky completely. The clouds seemed to whisper to him and Dash couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He felt himself stand up and, not hearing his friends call his name, started walking away.

Val smacked him over the back of the head. Hard.

Dash felt dazed and confused. When had he stood up? Where had he been walking to?

“Yeah, don’t look at the storm. It’s not the weather you really have to be worried about.”

Instinctively Dash looked back up at the storm. Val smacked him again.

“Don’t look at it idiot. Got it?” Dash nodded rapidly. “Good. Now get back to your friends. You scared them.”

Dash looked back over his shoulder. They really did look terrified.

He quickly walks back to them. “Sorry guys, I don't know what happened.”

Paulina’s voice shook. “Don’t do that again.”

“You scared us man,” Kwan said. "It was like you couldn’t hear us.”

Dash almost looked back up at the whispering clouds again. But he caught himself, and looked down at the ground instead. “I don’t think I could.” He whispered.

They sat in silence, intentionally not looking at the storm.

There was a deep ring that echoed through the castle, and voices raised in a haunting chant. All around them a glowing green dome raised to block out the storm, the whispers in the storm becoming muffled and drowned out by the chanting.

“Look! up there!” Star said, pointing up to the castle walls. Dash followed her finger to where four figures were standing silhouetted against the bright green of the shield.

Three of the figures were holding their arms up to the sky, green wisps of magic trailing out from their hands and stretching out to the dome above them, pulsing in time with the chanting. The fourth figure had his hands on the shoulders of two of the others, their hair seeming to glow with the lighting.

“Is that Fenton and the others?” Star asked.

“Yep,” Valarie said. Dash jumped. He hadn't seen her walk up behind them. “Them and the royal mage.”

“Since when could they do magic?” Paulina asked.

“Sam and Tucker have been studying for a while. Danny too, but he doesn't have as much talent in it. He’s so powerful though that it doesn't matter much in the long run. He can just brute force a lot of things.”

She turned to look at them, making eye contact with Dash in particular. “You should all be grateful you haven't bothered them since freshman year. Sam could turn you into a frog and Danny could separate your soul from your body with just a word. As for Tucker… let’s just say that we’re all glad he stays focused on technomancy.”

Dash felt queasy. "Did you ever learn anything?” He asked, morbidly curious.

Valarie just shrugged. “It's not my specialty. I know some of the theory, but not much more than that.” She grinned and pulled a very big ray gun out of her purse. “Besides, I'm more of a gun gal anyway.”

Kwan squeaked and Dash barely kept himself from doing the same.

“How’d you get that to fit in your purse like that?” Star asked.

“There are some benefits to having magic friends.” Val grinned at them again, before sobering slightly and gesturing back towards the bus. “Now come on, we fixed up the bus so that people can sleep in it.”

Dash and the others followed her to the bus. The backs of the bench seats had been laid down flat and someone had found blankets and pillows from somewhere, turning the seats into makeshift cots.

“Claim a bed and get some sleep if you can. It's gonna be a long night.”

Dash had a hard time sleeping on the makeshift cot. Not necessarily because it was uncomfortable, but more because his mind was too full. The green glow and unending haunting chanting wasn’t helping either. Though it was definitely preferable to the alternative. The way he had almost walked off into the storm terrified him.

He got up from the bed and quietly made his way out of the bus.

Val was sitting outside on a wooden stool that had been pulled from somewhere. She had her gun balanced on her knees. and was staring up at where her friends were still chanting on the castle wall.

“How are you so calm?" he asked. “All of this is absolutely crazy, and yet you're so calm. How?”

Valarie just sat there for a long moment. “There's not much I can say other than 'you get used to it,'” she finally said. “Danny Sam and Tucker, they've been there since the very beginning, since the portal opened in his parents lab.” She glanced at him. “It's hard to keep up with the rest of them sometimes. They're all so in sync and I joined them so much later, but I'm nothing if not stubborn, so I keep up with them anyway.”

“So this whole time Fenton and the others have been befriending the ghosts and learning magic and and... I don't even know what else.”

Valerie's laugh was humorless. “Yeah you really don't know what else Dash. And I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not!”

“Why would I Dash? Why would I tell you a secret that isn't even mine when you bullied Danny and ostracized me back in freshman year. Why do you think Dash?” Val shook her head. “It's not my place to tell people, and even if it was, you'd never be someone I'd tell anyway.”

Dash had nothing he could say in response.

Valerie turned back to watch the castle walls. “Go back to bed Dash.”

He did as told, but he didn't get much sleep that night.

[souenkun]

Bagged plushie aoki-kun during a discount and I have no regrets at all!!! 💸

[luck-of-the-drawings]

FOR A BEAT OF HEART, THE BREATH IS SHOT. AND WITHIN A BREATH, THE HEART IS CAUGHT. THE PIPES ARE BURSTING, UNDER GREAT STRESS, BOLTS TORN ASUNDER, MAKING A MESS. A FINAL COUGH, A FINAL RETCH, A GOREY SLOUGH, CLAIMED BY WRETCH.

[mixed-up-metaphors]

weird practice doodle comic thing idk 2/2

(first one is over here)

in case you are bamboozled and missed the first post this is just me ranting/rambling abt dimitri and ashe and ghosts in comic form

huzzah, the rest of the first one featuring uhhhhhhh idk lol its like the first one. But Now With A Brief Appearance From Our Special Guest, Dedue!!!!!!!!

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[fallingformatt]

SEXUAL TENSION M.S.

bsf!Matt x fem!reader

summary: the sexual tension between you and your best friend Matt causes you two to ‘talk it out’ in the car

based on these requests available: here, here

warnings: filthy ass smut bro

word count: 3.2k

a/n: I’ve been so busy with work, but im glad i finally found the time to write something hope yall enjoy it :) this post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

"Wait do you like him?" my friend asks with a smirk on her lips as she playfully pushes my shoulder.

I was hanging out with my friend at the beach tanning, eating some grapes, swimming and just taking in the sun.

"I don't know, it's like this weird sexual tension between us like I just feel that hot and bothered vibe coming from him," I say to my friend as I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers.

"As in general or like just around you?" She asks me while raising an eyebrow. "Girl I don't know, we don't talk about how often we get laid," I say with a serious tone. "You should then," she answers as one corner of her lips rises up followed by a wink. "Can we not? I'm not asking Matt if he wants to fuck me or just fuck in general, let's change the subject," I say now slightly annoyed about how long this topic has dragged on.

I have to admit though, in the past couple of weeks there have been moments of strong sexual tension between me and my best friend Matt. I don't know what it is but every time we hang out in a group setting, I feel him throwing glances at me while fidgeting with his rings practically undressing me with his eyes, his eyes seem to scan me up and down, eventually meeting mine every time, his stare would get this hint of hunger like he's been starving for something, so I went for advice to my friend but she doesn't have a serious bone in her body so it obviously didn't go far.

Not even a second later I heard my phone ring. I turn it facing up to look who's calling. My friend leans in pushing up her sunglasses to see the caller as well. "Oh it's Matt, you should ask him if he's down to fuck," she says with a huge smile plastered across her face. "You're so funny," I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes before answering the phone.

"Hey!" I say as I bring up the phone to my ear.

"Hey, what are you up to?" Matt asks.

"Nothing much, I'm at the beach with a friend," I say as I turn my head to look at her, as soon as I do so, I see her standing on her knees humping the air before she points to my phone laughing. I instantly facepalm regretting that I even mentioned something to her.

"Hello, are you there?" I hear on the phone.

I snap back as I remember that I'm currently on the phone with Matt.

"Yeah sorry, what did you say," I say.

"I asked if the weather is nice, am I really that boring?" Matt says.

"No I was just looking at my friend, she was kicking down someone's sand castle," I lie as I search around with my free hand for something to throw at my friend. "Yeah the weather is nice, the water is really warm too, what are you doing?" I continue.

"I'm driving home, do you want to do something later?" Matt asks and I see my friend walking over to me kneeling next to me pressing her ear against my phone trying to hear what Matt is saying.

"Yeah I'm down, do you have something in mind?" I answer as I try to push my friend away with my elbow staring at her and shaking my head.

"Chris and Nick really want to see you, so I was thinking we could go to topgolf, and get something to eat after that," he offers.

I see my friend nodding her head up and down signaling me to say yes. How did she even hear that is beyond me.

"Yeah I'm down, should be fun," I say.

"Alright I'll pick you up at 7, see you then," he says before ending the call

I look down next to me and see one grape lying in the sand, without giving it a second thought, I pick it up and throw it at my friend. "You're such a child," I say as I roll my eyes smiling. "You still love me," she says sitting down smiling, finally relaxing after being on my case this whole time.

The sun had started to set and we decided to head back to my friend's house. The beach is like a 10 minute walk from her place. "What time is he picking you up?" My friend asks me.

"He's picking me up at 7, but it's not like you didn't know that already, you're so nosy," I say as I look down at my phone to see the time. "Shit it's 6:27 pm already, there's no way I'm gonna get back to my house and get ready in time.

"You can just get ready at my place," she offers. I nod and pull out my phone from my pocket and text Matt the new address.

We go into her house and I drop my bag at the door running for the bathroom to shower. I turn on the water and hop in.

"Are you really that excited to see him?" my friend asks as she opens the door to the bathroom. "What do you mean?" I ask her. "I mean you rushed to take a shower so fast, surely you're excited to meet up with him," she says as I hear her turning on the sink to wash her hands. "I'm literally just showering, I don't want to be sweaty, covered in sand, and gross, no matter who I'm meeting up with," I defend myself. "Whatever you say," my friend says as she leaves the bathroom.

I hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. I went past the kitchen to my friend's room. I open the door and she's sitting in front of her vanity doing her skincare playing some music in the background.

My eyes lay upon an outfit lying down on her bed, it's a short jean skirt and a black lace tank top, I raise my eyebrow in confusion "What's this?" I ask. "It's an outfit for you to wear," she answers, I tilt my head. "Well unless you're gonna go to topgolf in sweats and a bathing suit, you should wear what's on the bed," she exclaims. "But this is what I would wear if we went clubbing not something I would wear hanging out with friends," I answer. "Trust me on this one," my friend replies. "You seriously need to move on," I say as I grab the outfit and put it on.

I check my phone to see the time, 7:05 pm it reads and as I was about to put down my phone I receive a text from Matt.

"I'm here" that's all the text says.

"I have to go," I say to my friend as I stand up from her vanity and head for the door. "Wait, just one more thing," she says as she runs over to me with a perfume bottle and sprays a few sprays on me. "What's that?" I ask. "It's a pheromone perfume, it's supposed to make guys crazy," she says, smiling proudly holding the bottle. I just sigh as I go for the door. "This way we'll find out if he wants to fuck in general or if he wants to fuck you!" my friend says happily, waving at me as I exit.

I get in the front seat as I see that Chris is sitting at the back. "Hey," Nick exclaims. "Hey," I say to everyone as I put on my seatbelt. "You look good," Matt says as he turns his head looking me up and down and Nick nods his head in agreement. "Thanks, guys," I say and we start driving. We're now driving for about 15 minutes, there's music blasting through the whole car as Nick and Chris are arguing, trying to scream over the loud music about which is the best spongebob episode making me giggle from time to time.

We're stopped at a red light and as I'm scrolling through my phone I feel someone's eyes on me, I pick up my head and see Matt looking at me, there it is again, that hungry stare, he's looking me up and down before his eyes again meet mine. I see him bite his lower lip before a little smirk creeps up on his lips. "You look so fucking good," he says, making me smile, his voice was deeper than usual. He turns his head to focus on the road again as the light turns green.

This is the vibe I was talking about with my friend earlier, we've never had this kind of tension between us before.

I turned my head back to see if Chris and Nick noticed his comment, and no they were still arguing, but the topic of the argument had changed to waffles and pancakes.

"We're here," Matt says as the car stops and he pulls out the keys from the engine and we all exit the car. As we go in, Nick goes to registration and pays for all of us. We all walk to our playing area and we all get something to snack on and some drinks.

"I'm up first," Matt says as he walks over to the playing area, he sets up the ball and swings the golf club. Next up is Nick, he does the same, now it's my turn, I walk up to the playing area, set up the ball, and take a swing with my golf club, I miss completely and I turn my head to look at everyone laughing, well almost everyone, Matt is the only one who's not laughing, which made me less embarrassed, I guess that's what best friends are for. "You need any help?" He asks, I nod my head and he stands up walking over to me.

I set myself up to take a shot and Matt walks over standing behind me, he puts his hands over mine "You have to hold the club tightly, okay?" Matt says as he tightens his grip around my hands. "Keep your back straight," he says and I straighten my back, which causes my butt to brush against his crotch. He inhales sharply before he continues, "Now swing," he says as he guides my hands with his swinging them to the side before hitting the golf ball and watching it fly away. I turn around to face Matt, "thank you," I say as I give him a hug. Before I get to pull away I feel his arm around the back of my neck as he leans into my ear, "you did so good," he says as he lets me go a slight grin forming on his lips, we walk back to the lounge area and Chris stands up as it is his turn now.

I was now sitting watching them play as I understood pretty quickly that there wasn't gonna be a golfer made out of me. Throughout the night I kept noticing Matt's glances, he's now sitting across from me, and he's staring me up and down as he's fidgeting with his rings. His gaze sends shivers down my spine, making me actually shiver and Nick notices.

"Are you cold? I left a sweater in the car, Matt can get it," he offers, " yeah that would be nice," I say as I look back at Matt and he seems to snap back into reality not really understanding what's going on.

"Come on Matt, I'm gonna go with you to get the sweater," I say to help him understand what's going on, he nods and stands up and we start walking to the car. I was actually glad that I managed to get him alone, I needed to understand what was going on with him, but I didn't want to ask with everyone around.

As we get to the car he unlocks it and I get into the front passenger seat and lean back to get the sweater Nick was talking about, as I grab the sweater I hear the door open, I turn my head to look and I see Matt leaning down, his arm resting against the open door. "You ready?" He asks. "No get in," I say as I lean back into my seat, placing the sweater in my lap. Matt gets in the car and closes the door. "What's up?" He asks. "I should be asking you that," I answer and Matt tilts his head confused by my statement.

"What's going on with you?" I ask. "What do you mean?" He answers me with a question not understanding what I'm talking about. I take a deep breath slightly nervous about what I'm going to say next, but I needed some clarity so I knew I had to ask. "Past couple of weeks you have been zoning out, staring at me," I state, I watch his face, waiting for his reaction. His expression grows dark, and once again his glare turns dark.

"You're driving me fucking insane, " he says his voice getting deeper again, "you don't know what you're doing to me, your sent, your presence," he says as he moves his stare from my eyes to my lips before licking his. "Tell me," I say as I put my arm on his bicep. "How about I show you instead," he says as a smirk appears on his lips. He leans over and grabs the outer side of my thigh, signaling me to move. I cautiously move over the center console his arms grabbing and holding my ass for support as he guides me to sit in his lap.

Without any warning he pushes his lips onto mine, kissing me roughly. One of my hands travel to his hair and the other one rests on his chest, his hands travel to my hips, pushing and guiding them back and forth, I let out a quiet moan as I break the kiss, "Matt this is wrong," I say as I try to calm down my breathing. "I don't care, I want you," he says as he smashes his lips back onto mine and I give into the kiss, he moves from my lips to my cheek and down to my jawline, his one hand still guiding my hips back and forth as the other hand moves over my ass grabbing it and slapping it.

I'm not fighting him and give into his touch fully, I throw my head back as I feel my panties getting wet and a moan slips past my lips, Matt takes advantage and attacks my neck, leaving wet kisses, slipping in a few bites as he's sucking on my sensitive skin leaving marks.

"Move up," he says, his voice is demanding. I move my ass up, both of my hands move to his shoulders as I hold them for support. He quickly unbuckles his belt and bucks up his hips sliding his jeans down along with his boxers. Matt's hand travels to my panties, he rubs against my clothed clit before sliding them to the side with one quick motion. He places his hands on my waist pushing me down and signaling me to sit down again.

He pushes his lips on my neck leaving sweet kisses around the dark marks he had created, he leans back and his eyes lock onto the hickeys, "pretty," he says as he grabs my jaw, his thumb brushing over the bruised, sensitive skin.

Matt grabs my ass as he moves me slightly up, positioning his dick against my entrance before pushing me down, I let my head fall on the nape of his neck as my elbows rest on his shoulders, my hands roaming his hair, I let out a moan as I start to move my hips.

"You feel so good princess," Matt groans, his hand tightly around my waist as the other one holds a tight grasp on my ass, his nails digging into my skin as I become a hot mess on top of him. "Matt," I moan out, my movements are sloppy and sensual.

"We can't be gone for too long," Matt whispers in my ear and suddenly fastens his thrusts underneath me. A sudden feeling of overbearing pleasure comes over me as I throw my head back no longer able to control my breath, moans and whimpers leave my mouth before I bite my lower lip trying to be quiet. "Baby don't be quiet, I'll make you scream my name," Matt growls deeply as his hand travels to my lower back holding me for support.

"Will you?" I manage to slip out between my moans as I start to grind faster on his cock. "You're such a brat," he says as his hand wraps around my hair pulling my head backward. His lips attack my collarbone, he's sucking and pulling on my skin slipping in a few bites, I hiss at the pain, "not so brave anymore huh," he says as he detaches from my collarbone before leaving a trail of kisses up my neck before meeting my lips.

"I'm," I whimper, my hands roaming around for something to hold onto as I feel my climax approach me. "You're?" Matt asks proudly as he's the one making me unable to finish my sentence. "Close," I manage to moan out between his hard thrusts and my grinding as we move in sync. "What was that huh?" He chuckles. I grab the collar of his shirt to pull myself together as I gather my strength to form a sentence.

"I'm so close Matt don't stop," I blur out, I feel my walls closing around his twitching cock. "You take my dick so well baby," Matt moans out sending me over the edge. "Matt," I scream out as my orgasm takes over me. Matt lets out a low growl-like moan, as I feel his seed pumping into me. I push my lips against his in order not to scream as I ride out my high.

"Oh my god Matt," I say as I move off of his cock and back to the seat next to him. "You did so good princess," he says as he leans in and kisses my forehead before he pulls up his pants. "We should get back," Matt says and I nod in agreement. I take Nick's sweater and pull it over my head putting it on.

As we step out of the car, I close the door and fix my short denim skirt and I see Matt fixing his belt. "I'm gonna leave the window slightly open," he says slightly chuckling pointing to the windows that had fully fogged up and I let out a small laugh as well.

"What took you two so long," Nick says as he looks at us and we try not to look suspicious. "We were talking," I say confidently, I see Nick shifting his eyes from Matt to me, and his eyes fall down to my neck as a smirk appears on his lips, "you got something here," Nick says as he brushes over his own neck with two fingers. My eyes immediately shoot to Matt as I slap his shoulder from the back.

I guess there definitely was some sexual tension between us that needed to be resolved.

[radiance1]

"Okay, so." Danny began slowly, very, very slowly. Testing the rope that bound his arms behind his back. "This is new... Ish."

"Sorry, sorry." The kid Danny had, unfortunately (but also fortunately), saved from multiple kidnappings from cultists. Said, hands raised in his direction but also not going any further and instead fidgeting in place. "Are they too tight? Do you want me to loosen them?"

"No, no. They're fine." Danny shrugged, silently hoping the Infinite Realms isn't going to smite the unfortunate boy across from him for, you know, kidnapping Danny and all that. "I would say this is one of the more comfortable kidnappings, to be honest."

"Oh, okay. That's good." The kid nodded slowly, though a bit hesitant before deciding not to follow that line of conversation. "Alright, so, my name's Billy." Billy introduced him, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he gave an awkward smile. "Y'know, the guy you saved from multiple kidnappings and, uh, kidnapped you too."

"Cool, cool." Danny hummed lightly, leaning back against the wall. "Name's Danny, nice to meet you Billy."

"I thought your name was Phantom?" Billy asked, understandably confused.

"It is." Danny confirmed.

"But your name is also, Danny?" Billy tilted his head a bit.

"Yes." Danny said, unhelpfully.

"Is Danny your secret identity?" Billy asked.

"Nope."

"Is Phantom your secret identity?"

"Yes but no."

A beat.

"That makes no sense." Billy said flatly.

"What can I say," Danny shrugged. "Not a lot of things in my life make sense."

"Right, yea." Billy nodded politely, drumming his fingers against his leg. "Interdimensional prince and stuff."

"Yea."

A moment of silence.

"So-" Billy began.

"No, the Ghost King isn't going to hunt you down. No, every other ghost in existence isn't going to hunt you down either and, no. This isn't going to start a war."

Billy blinked.

"Not what I was going to ask, but okay. That's nice to know." He nodded, a certain amount of relief unknotting unknown pressure in his chest he only knew till now.

"Oh." Danny blinked, then tilted his head. "Soooo, what did you want to ask then?"

"Do you want to be my boyfriend-"

"Yes."

===

"Let's fucking GOOOOOO!" Zeus roared, throwing his fists into the air. "Haha! Take that Solomon! I told you it would work!"

Solomon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation, reaching into his robe and pulling out 5 gold coins.

"Thank-a you!" Mercury swiped the money right out of his hands then hid them... Somewhere, on his body. Then gave Solomon a wink. "Pleasure doing business with ya!"

===

"Oh, it finally happened." Clockwork remarked calmly, barely pausing as he continued to run the comb through hair.

"The Realms seem out of sorts." Pariah Dark said slowly, twisting his head to try to look back at Clockwork only to turn it right back from the gentle whack of Clockwork's staff. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," Clockwork said casually, running the comb through his king's hair. Honestly, it amazed him that Eons of Eternal Slumber, yet his hair wasn't a rat's nest. "Let it sort itself out, it shall be done in the next century, or the next two millennium, either or."

"You're unsure?" Pariah tilted his head forwards the slightest amount, doing so very carefully as to not disturb the Master of Time's work.

"A rough estimate, though I can give a more accurate statement," Clockwork hummed lightly as he combed through the few knots left. "It is unimportant."

"Ah," Pariah Dark, both trusting and not knowing enough about said subject seeing as he does not have dominion over time, nodded slightly. "I see."

===

The Infinite Realms was very, very happy to see one of its blorbos gain a lover.

It knew interrupting various kidnappings and marking the boy as a good Realms token so they could meet would work out eventually!

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

[theosbaby]

helping hand

lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

masterlist

SUMMARY ! the guys find out that enzo is still a virgin and they keep bothering him about it, so he asks for your help.

WARNINGS ! friends to lovers, use of y/n (just once i think), loss of virginity, SMUT, virgin!lorenzo, sub!lorenzo, dom!reader, mutual masturbation, p in v, lots of praising, neck grabbing, hair pulling, slight orgasm denial, unprotected sex.

NOTES ! english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. yes, i have read filthy and i know lorenzo isn't innocent at all, but i wanted to portray him like that for this one, hope you like it!

lorenzo was your best friend, he had been since you both were a couple of tweens and met at the hogwarts express on your first year. you remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. he had bumped into you, which made you drop your chocolate frog to the ground, after that, he immediately apologized and bought you the whole honeydukes trolley as an apology; at that moment, you swore to yourself you would never let him go.

and seven years later, he was the most important person in your life.

as every friday night, lorenzo and you were having a sleepover in your dormroom. that night, pansy, your roommate, was out on a date with some dude and you had the room all to yourselves. you were lying in your bed, enzo next to you. a film was playing, but you were having trouble to focus on it since enzo kept moving; he looked uneasy, which was really rare to be honest, lorenzo was the calmest guy in the whole wizarding world.

you couldn't possibly imagine what was going on in that pretty head of his.

truth is, the week before, the rest of the guys had discovered that enzo was still a virgin and they had been teasing him about it nonstop since then, which had already started to seriously bother him. at first, maybe you could say it was funny, but after eight days of constant jokes, it was not funny anymore.

you sighed, finally deciding to ask him what was going through his mind.

"lorenzo," you called him, using his full name, which you rarely did, "is something wrong? you seem off today..."

enzo looked away, clearly trying to avoid your eyes, and you frowned; that was the confirmation you needed to know that something was not fine, he never averted your gaze like that.

"nothing, just... dealing with some stress." he answered, dodging the subject. when he saw your unpleased look, he added, "it's not a big deal, seriously. don't worry about it."

"cmon, enzo..." you said, reaching to cup his cheek and force him to look at you, "i know you like the palm of my hand and i know something's bothering you."

you smiled reassuringly at him, pausing the film to focus fully on the conversation, then you added, "you can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

enzo's cheeks blushed slightly, his eyes darting back and forth as he looked at you, clearly hesitating whether he should tell you or not.

"you wouldn't... you wouldn't think any less of me, would you?" he asked and you saw a hint of vulnerability in his light brown irises.

you frowned as you looked at him, caressing his cheek softly; his attitude was making you really worried.

"of course not, enzo... you're my best friend," you told him with a soft and sweet voice, trying to get him to open to you.

he nodded slowly, leaning into your touch; he found comfort in your presence, it had always been that way. taking a deep breath, enzo finally confessed.

"well... it's just that... the guys found out i'm still a virgin and they've been teasing me about it all week." as he talked, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"that's it?" you asked, chuckling as your worried expression visibly softened. "they're a bunch of idiots... just ignore them," you reassured him, your hand moving up to stroke his soft hair.

enzo managed to let out a small laugh, his expression softening at your comment too.

"yeah, i know..." he muttered, his eyes fixed in yours as he thought of his next words, "but it's hard not to let it get to me when they treat me like some sort of joke."

"hey, don't say that..." you replicated, your brow furrowed as you heard his words. "there's nothing wrong with being a virgin."

he nodded, agreeing with you, while his eyes drifted back to the paused movie on the screen. despite your words, he still seemed a bit troubled. you were definitely going to beat the guys up the next time you saw them for making enzo feel so bad about something completely normal and natural.

"i know that... i can't help but feel self-conscious about it though," he said, then elaborated, "I mean, everyone else seems to be... well, you know."

"experienced?" you asked, finishing his sentence.

you grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his; you wanted to make him feel better. he looked down at your intertwined fingers and sighed softly.

"yeah... experienced." he nodded while he talked. "it's not like i haven't tried to lose my virginity or anything; it's just never been the right time or person, i guess."

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze when you heard his words, smiling at how sweet he was. enzo was simply the perfect guy, the perfect friend, and you were sure someday he'd be the perfect boyfriend.

"you'll get there eventually, trust me," you chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder. "just don't overthink it, okay?"

lorenzo smiled back, clearly more relaxed now that had confided in you. his fingers tightened slightly around yours as he rested his head on top of yours.

"i know, thanks for listening, darling."

"always, enzo." you kissed his cheek briefly. "and if they bother you again about it, just let me know, i'll gladly hit them," you added, laughing.

"you would do that for me?" he looked at you, his expressive eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"i'd do anything for you," you answered honestly, smiling warmly at him.

it was the truest thing you had ever told him; there wasn't a single thing you wouldn't sacrifice for him. he was just worth it. your words seemed to awake something in him, you could almost see the gears in his head spinning as he stared at you intently.

"really? anything?" his voice deepened a bit, his eyes still locked onto yours. "can i ask you something then?"

"of course silly, anything," you replied, letting out a nervous laugh as his intense gaze made you feel butterflies in your belly.

"would you..." he swallowed nervously, taking a deep breath before continuing. "would you maybe... want to be my first?"

your breath hitched when you heard his proposal, your heart started racing in your chest. for a second, you thought that you could be dreaming, so you pinched yourself; the pain you felt confirmed that your were, in fact, not sleeping.

"enzo, are you sure about that?" you questioned, unsure if he was saying it seriously or not. "we've just talked about that, there's nothing wrong with being a virgin," you repeated.

"i know, darling." he bite his lower lip, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "but i can't stop thinking about it... and i'd really like it to be with you."

"really?" you gasped in surprise, nipping at your bottom lip to try and hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of your mouth.

you loved enzo; not the kind of love you feel for a brother, though, you were in love with him, and you had tried to convince yourself otherwise for a long time, because you thought your feelings weren't reciprocated, but now... he was in front of you, asking you to be his first, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to ignore your feelings anymore.

"you aren't just doing it out of social pressure?"

you wanted to make sure he was not feeling pressured to do it; you wanted him to do it only if he finally felt ready to take that step.

"no, i mean it," he said, blushing shyly. "i really want it to be with you, y/n. you're so beautiful, and kind, and smart. i've had a crush on you for years."

his admission made your heart skip a beat; you thought you were going to faint right there and then. your thoughts were all over the place, your mind racing as you looked at him, but there was just one thing that you knew for sure; you were dying to kiss him... so you did.

"then, i guess it can be arranged," you whispered, reaching to cup his face and pull him into a kiss, one that was very sweet at first.

enzo's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the kiss, his hands moving to rest on your hips. he gasped softly against your lips, his heart racing wildly. you took control of the kiss as you tangled your fingers in his hair and tug at it, slipping your tongue in his mouth; the innocent kiss soon turning into a full make out session.

his hands moved slowly but surely down to the small of your back, gently pressing against your lower back and pulling you even closer to him. you slightly moaned into the kiss, unable to get enough of the taste of his soft lips.

"you taste so good, enzo," you muttered between kisses, not pulling back at any moment.

your hand moved down his neck, gripping at it, which made enzo gasp softly, his fingers digging into your waist as his tongue became bolder in your mouth. he could feel himself getting hard, the rush of blood making him dizzy.

he was practically on top of you at that point, so you pushed him gently until he was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and you straddled his lap, leaning in to resume the kissing. quickly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close a he possibly could. one of his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it upwards slowly; the gentle caress of his fingertips on your skin gave you goosebumps.

"you want me to take this off, baby?" you asked, breaking the kiss, as you started toying with the hem of your top.

lorenzo looked at you with hooded eyes, licking his lips slightly. "yes, please… take it off."

you smirked, grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it off your body. since you were not wearing a bra, you breasts were now completely exposed under his intense gaze. his eyes darkened as he saw your boobs for the first time; they were perfect, just like the rest of you.

"have you ever touched a girl, enzo?" you questioned, a sweet tone to your voice.

he swallowed hard, his hands aching to touch you, and answered, "no, i haven't."

"don't be shy, baby," you whispered with a smile, grabbing his hands to encourage him to cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly. "like this."

enzo stared at your face closely, his eyes filled with lust as he mimicked your action, his hands squeezing both your boobs gently. his thumbs brushed against your little nipples, causing them to harden instantly.

"you're beautiful," he breathed out, completely stunned at your beauty.

you gasped slightly, your cheeks flushing as a heat wave washed over your body; your panties growing wetter by the second. the way he touched you, as if he was worshipping your body, was a huge turn on.

"thank you, baby," you muttered, squirming in his lap.

enzo moaned softly as he felt your body grinding against his hard length. he kissed along your jawline and down your neck, nipping softly as he went. you let out a cute whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt his tongue lapping at one of your hard nipples and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair, caressing it tenderly; he groaned against your skin as he began to suck at the hard nub gently.

his hand moved down between your legs and he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric of your shorts and panties; you felt his digits rubbing hesitantly over your pussy, as if he didn't know what to do with them next.

"enzo," you gasped at his action, tugging at his hair tenderly. "you have never done that before, right?" you chuckled as you you caressed his face.

lorenzo blushed slightly and shook his head slowly, still teasing your sensitive skin with his fingers. his eyes locked onto yours as he whispered back, "no... i have not."

"let me show you how to do it properly, yeah?" you said with a sweet voice, grabbing his hand to pull it out of your panties.

then, you got off his lap, sitting next to him as you pushed your shorts and underwear down your legs, finally exposing your pussy. his breath hitched in his throat as he saw you completely bare for the first time. he reached out tentatively, tracing a finger along your upper thigh.

your hand moved down to cup your pussy, your fingers gently parting your slick folds to rub your swollen clit in circles, teaching him how you liked it; you couldn't help but gasp at the touch.

"just like this, see?" you asked, looking at him with glazed eyes.

enzo's eyes darkened as he watched you touch yourself; you looked so vulnerable and exposed, yet so sexy. when you withdrew your hand, he replaced your fingers with his, mirroring your movements as he started rubbing your clit in small circles.

"fuck yeah, like that..." you muttered, your breathing coming out in sharp pants as your hips bucked forward. "doing so good for me, enzo," you praised.

he groaned at your praise as he watched you writhing at his touch. his dick was rock hard in his pants and he wished more than anything that he could slide it into your tight pussy right away.

you reached next to you to push his sweatpants down his thighs, just enough to free his erection. he arched his back slightly to help you and his hard cock sprung free, standing tall against his flat stomach. you bit your lower lip, your mouth watering when you saw his dick; he was really big.

"can i touch you, baby?" you asked, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns over his abs.

enzo's breath hitched at your touch. his abs flexed slightly under your fingertips as he nodded eagerly. when he gave you his permission, you grabbed his length in your hand gently, pumping it slowly at first.

he groaned at your touch, leaning back against the headboard as you began to stroke his cock, his fingers still rubbing your soaked pussy. his eyes were half-closed as he watched you move your hand up and down.

"that feels so good, darling," he muttered.

you moaned in response when his digits picked up speed, pressing down your swollen clit and making you squirm in pleasure. your chest raised and fell quickly as you gasped for air.

he smirked as he felt your body respond to his touch, leaning forward to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that you returned instantly. his tongue slipped inside your mouth as his hand slid down your slit, searching for your entrance; he pushed two fingers inside of you, feeling your wetness coat his digits as he began to thrust them in and out.

you whined, involuntarily breaking the contact between your lips, and your face scrunched in pleasure. your hand moved faster as it stroke his cock, your thumb teasing his tip, that was leaking precum.

he groaned, his mouth finding your neck. his free hand slid up to cup your breast, massaging it gently as he continued to finger fuck you. he was already close to cumming, all the new sensations overwhelming him, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

"enzo, fuck," you cursed, your pussy tightening around his fingers when you felt the coil in your belly about to snap. "such a good boy... making me feel so good."

you gasped, your pumps becoming sloppier as you approached your orgasm. enzo's breath hitched at your praising words, hips bucking against your hand, unable to contain himself any longer.

"please, love... let me inside you," he begged between breathy moans, his fingers thrusting in and out of you harder.

"how do you want me, baby?" you asked in a whisper, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

enzo nipped at his lower lip, he didn't even have to think his answer. "i want you to ride me," he muttered as he looked into your eyes, his own glazed with lust.

you gasped when he withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a smirk tugging at your lips as you said, "whatever you want, baby."

you released his cock from your grasp to climb onto his lap. enzo's breath caught in his throat when you straddled him, the sight of your wet pussy just inches from his cock making him shudder with anticipation; he almost came on the spot. his hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

you grabbed his cock and placed the tip against your entrance, slowly lowering yourself onto it. you couldn't help but moan as you took his big cock inside you. once he was fully seated within your pussy, you stood still for a moment to get used to the new intrusion.

"how does that feel, my pretty boy?" you asked, leaning in to nuzzle his neck affectionately.

he groaned, his hands moving to cup your ass as he began to instinctively thrust up into you. it felt so perfect, so right, like every inch of him belonged inside you.

"it feels so good," he whispered in your ear, his breathing ragged.

"yeah... it does," you agreed, starting to ride him slowly at first; his cock reached all the right spots inside you so easily. "it's like your dick was fucking made for me, enzo," you moan, your breathing growing uneven.

he shuddered as he bucked up into you, his fingers digging into your ass so hard that you were sure he would leave bruises. you were so fucking tight, and he was so hard, the friction almost too much for him to handle.

you smirked as you saw him so helpless underneath your body while you rode him. you reached to tug at his hair, tilting his head back to suck at his neck, leaving some hickeys, which made him moan.

"you like being deep inside my tight pussy, enzo?" you teased him.

your boobs bounced as you jumped on his cock; that sight only adding to his pleasure. you placed your hands on his chest to support yourself, seeing his eyes roll back in his head as he felt you tighten around him; he thrust up into you, hitting that perfect spot again and again.

"yeah... so fucking much," he answered, panting heavily.

"such a naughty boy..." you cooed, a smug grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "but i love it."

you looked closely at him; he was completely flustered, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"you look so fucking pretty underneath me, enzo," you complimented him

he groaned, sliding one hand down to rub against your clit roughly, the other one still holding onto your ass.

"don't stop, please." he breathed out, his hips lifting up to meet every downward thrust of yours.

"you close, pretty boy?" you asked him, watching his face attentively as he nodded in response. "you gonna be a good boy and hold it in for me, yeah?" you ordered with a soft voice.

he whimpered, biting his lip harshly. his cock throbbed inside you, aching for release, but his thumb did not stop rubbing circles on your clit; the sensation of his dick pounding into you together with the stimulation on your clit making you weak on the knees.

"yes... I'll be good for you."

"that's my boy," you praised him, struggling to keep up the pace while riding him since your legs had started shaking from the pleasure. "you gonna make me cum, baby." you breathed out, moaning loudly.

you hand had a conscience of its own and moved up to grasp at his neck, applying light pressure on it. enzo's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, your grip limiting his air flow very slightly, but enough to make it pleasurable.

"oh fuck! i'm cumming," he moaned, gritting his teeth.

"hold it," you commanded, your voice harder that time. "you won't cum until i do."

he moaned in frustration, shaking his head as his hips jerked up into you. "please... i can't."

"just a minute, baby, i'm almost there," you promised, whimpering while your pussy started clenching around his cock as your orgasm built up.

you kept riding him until you finally fell over the edge, letting out a long string of soft moans and whimpers while your whole body shook. you leaned into his body, your hands gripping at his skin as pleasure washed over you.

"oh gods, enzo," you moaned, "you can cum now, baby."

as soon as you gave him permission, he came with a loud whimper, almost a cry, shooting his thick cum inside you in long spurts, your pussy milking his cock as both of your rode out your highs, holding onto each other tightly.

he panted, leaning his forehead against yours, his heartbeat slowing down as he tried to catch his breath.

"that was amazing."

"pretty good for a first time, huh?" you chuckled, out of breath too, while caressing his back and shoulders; your bodies were completely pressed together.

"fuck yeah... let's do it again," he laughed, grabbing your hips to push you onto the mattress; your body bounced slightly.

"enzo!" you giggled, but your playful laugh soon turned into a moan when your best friend buried his head between your legs.

you had definitely created a monster... you weren't complaining, though.

[pedrospatch]

flutter

Jackson! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[harrysfolklore]

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!”