#anyways let this be your reminder to never trust how you feel about your life past 9pm thank you and goodnight

[wannabespacesmuggler]

THE LAST TIME ➵ J. N. NAWOOD

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: The last time you saw Jod Na Nawood, he was taking off with his crew in search of treasure �� promising that this haul of credits could finally get you both out of this life for good. Years later, you’re still on Nevarro where he left you, but you’ve created a life free from the bounty hunter’s guild and backstabbing pirates. That is until Jod Na Nawood shows up on your doorstep with four small children asking for your help. Against your better judgment, you agree, but with a promise that this is the last time you let him in your door. It was only a matter of time before your seemingly neverending patience for the scoundrel found its end, but Jod decides to push his luck one last time.

Pairing: Jod Na Nawood x gn!Reader

Warnings: written after episode 6 of Skeleton Crew, previously established relationship, angst, language, no use of y/n, use of nicknames

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Happy Skeleton Crew Day! The show isn't even over, and I'm writing for my favorite pathetic man. Should I wait until we know more about Jod's backstory to write for him? Maybe. Is that going to stop me? Absolutely not. Will any new information change how I feel about him? No. It's Jude Law, and I love him. Listen, Disney has GOT to stop giving me reluctant fathers — I'm out here collecting them like infinity stones. Anyway, I haven't seen much fanfic for my boy Jod, so I figured I'd write a little something. I've become a little too invested in this relationship between the pirate and the bounty hunter after writing this, so let me know if you want to see more of them — like their first meeting, their first big score, or just some snippets of their travels together.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you watch a group of young children scurry past your shop while you close for the day, racing to get home before curfew. Grabbing your datapad and flipping off the lights, you begin your trek home just outside Nevarro’s capital city. On your way, you wave goodnight to multiple other shop owners who have rebuilt their lives in Nevarro. It’s incredible to see what this city has become. Within the past ten years, Nevarro went from a ruthless refuge for bounty hunters and Imperial outlaws to a bustling city built on lawful trade and commerce.

You never thought you’d be able to live a quiet life — not after the grueling years you spent with the bounty hunter’s guild. You thought you were meant for a life filled with danger and excitement, but as the years went on, that life began to take a toll on you — allies turning into enemies, always having to sleep with one eye open, never being able to settle down somewhere. But here you are, with your own plot of land and a shop filled with the treasures and artifacts you collected on past adventures. The only thing missing in your life is the person you want to spend it with. 

You shake that thought out of your head as you enter your quaint home nestled amongst several small farms. You try not to dwell on the past — especially not those that left you behind. However, you can’t help it as your eyes land on an old photo on your bedside table that you never had the heart to destroy. There, pictured with his arm slung around your shoulder with a bright smile after your first big score together, is Jod Na Nawood. The photo marked the beginning of your partnership. What started as a professional business arrangement quickly became an unlikely friendship — a pirate and a bounty hunter against the galaxy. Eventually, that friendship shifted into something a little more tender. And soon enough, you’d fallen in love with the man that no one else dared to trust. 

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips as you tear your eyes away from the photo. You should get rid of the photo, as it’s now just a reminder of the man who left and never came back. You haven’t seen Jod in years — not since he ventured off with his latest pirate crew in search of treasure. It didn’t make sense for you to tag along since your latest bounty puck was on the other side of the Outer Rim territories. But the night before he left, Jod promised you this was it. The cunning scoundrel of the star systems assured you that this was your last bounty and his last plunder. And you made the mistake of believing him. 

You made your way to the kitchen and busy yourself with brewing a fresh pot of caf, knowing that even though the sun had already set, you are far from sleep — a life of hunting bounties cursed you with many things, including insomnia. Before you can pour yourself a mug, you hear footsteps approaching your bungalow. You quickly grab the blaster you have hidden under the counter. Nevarro may be a reformed city, but you’re still prepared for the worst. 

You quietly move to the front door and press your ear against the cool wood. To your surprise, the voices you hear sound juvenile. You loosen your grip around your blaster as you suspect some of your neighbor’s kids are out past curfew. It wouldn’t be the first time that you have to walk some of the local children home to ensure their safety. But when you open the door, your breath catches in your chest. He’s leaner than the last time you saw him and his short hair is a little grayer, but standing before you is none other than Jod Na Nawood. A charming smile spreads across his face as he locks eyes with you.

“It’s been a while, Jewels.”

The old nickname is like a punch to the gut — knocking out the air caught in your lungs. You hated the term endearment, which only made Jod use it more. But on a quiet night in your old starship, after too many glasses of Rodian spice liquor, Jod explained the true meaning behind the name: all the treasure in the galaxy will never compare to you — his prize jewel. 

“What are you going by now — Crimson Jack, Silvo the Mad Captain, Jodwick Zank, Dash Zentin, or maybe Professor Gorelox?”

You know it’s a low blow, but the way that name slipped off his tongue so easily angers you. It’s like every emotion you’ve ever pushed away has come crashing down on you. But you’re not that person anymore — you're not his — you haven’t been for a while. Jod bristles at your question. To the rest of the galaxy, he may be a liar and a scoundrel, but with you, he was simply himself. Even if you don’t realize it, no one in all the star systems knows Jod Na Nawood like you do. 

“Just Jod.”

“What are you doing here, Jod?”

He glances behind him, and you find the source of the voices you heard: four young children huddled together. Your face softens as they look up at you.

“I need your help.”

For a split second, his mask of swaggering indifference slips, and you can see the exhaustion embedded deep into his handsome features. Jod’s shoulders slump forward for a moment before he rights his posture. 

“This the last time I’m letting you in my door, Jod.”

Your words are a double-edged sword — a threat and a promise. Jod nods knowingly, and, against your better judgment, you open the door the rest of the way, letting Jod and the children into your home. 

“Noticed no speeder outside. Did you get rid of it? You loved that thing.”

He attempts to make small talk. It’s strange being in your presence now. He thought he’d find comfort in it, but it now feels awkward after years of separation. But he knows how much that speeder meant to you — an old Joben T-85 you’ve had since your youth. When you weren’t off chasing a bounty, you could be found working on that bike. And you always kept it just a few paces outside the front door of your old house on Nevarro.

“Had to. Who do you think had to pay off all your debts when you disappeared?”

Ouch. Guess he needs to add that to the neverending list of things he has to make up for. Jod keeps his mouth closed and follows you into the kitchen. You pour two cups of caf. He’ll have to make do with having it black; you stopped stocking your small pantry with cream and sugar about a year after his departure. You slide a cup toward Jod before looking at the four children. 

“You guys hungry?”

You open your pantry, letting each of them choose a snack from your selection. Your eyes wander to Jod, sipping his caf slowly, nose crinkling ever-so-slight at the taste. His slacks have been patched at least a dozen times, his cotton shirt is torn, and the jacket he’s wrapped in is ill-fitting. Your brow furrows at the sight. The Jod you knew put, arguably, too much effort into his appearance. 

“I have a trunk of your old clothing under my bed. Go change.”

You motion towards your bedroom door, but Jod doesn’t move. Instead, a grin pulls at his lips.

“What’s wrong with my get up, Jewels? Am I not a sight for sore eyes?”

“You’re a sight, that’s for sure.”

Jod playfully rolls his eyes before relenting. You attempt to stifle the shiver that runs down your spine when his arm brushes against yours. But it’s safe to say Jod noticed based on the smirk that pulls at his lips. You’re almost embarrassed by how much your body yearns for his touch. After years of separation, he’s right here invading your personal space — and yet he still feels so far away. 

Jod finally breaks free from your orbit and disappears into your bedroom. He lets out a shaky breath as he closes the door. He approaches your bed and chuckles at the amount of blankets you’ve thrown on top of your mattress. He remembers the countless nights in your starship that he’d slide into bed, only to be immediately pulled into your chilly embrace. Your hands would slide under his loose shirt, and although your touch was ice cold, he’d never pull away.

Jod shakes off the memory and pulls the trunk out from under your bed. Inside are a few cotton shirts, an old pair of trousers, and his favorite jacket, which is folded nicely at the bottom. He never thought he’d see this jacket again — he never thought you’d keep it after all this time. He tries not to look into the gesture until he looks up and spots the photo on your bedside table. His hands move on their own accord as they delicately pick up the photograph. It reignites his cold heart, and he’s suddenly drowning in an ocean of unspoken emotion. 

The sound of your laughter in the next room forces him to tear his eyes away from the memory. He quickly changes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he slides his arms into his old jacket. It’s the first time in years that he actually feels like himself. 

He steps out of your bedroom and is emotionally sucker-punched by the scene before him. You’re on the couch with the kids close by. KB and Fern are on the floor watching something on your satapad — most likely one of the old Mandalorian soap operas you’ve watched at least a dozen times. You’re on the couch with Wim and Neel. Neel snores quietly with his head pressed against your shoulder, while you card your fingers through Wim’s hair as he sleeps peacefully with his head in your lap. It’s domestic — it’s what life should have looked like for the two of you. 

He doesn’t have the heart to interrupt this picturesque moment, but you eventually feel his gaze and look up at him with a soft smile. For a second, you simply look at each other before you eventually tear your eyes away from him. You gently shake the boys awake before getting the girls’ attention. 

“C’mon guys, you can sleep in my room. There’s more than enough space for all of you. KB and Fern — you can even keep my datapad for the night.”

The girls smile at you before racing into your bedroom, immediately claiming the mattress for themselves. Wim and Neel trail behind them and collapse onto the small couch in the corner of the room. After the children have settled in, you close the door and return your attention to Jod. 

“We need to talk.”

Jod nods at your words and follows you into the kitchen. He watches with a small smile as you pour yourself another cup of caf. When the two of you traveled together, you practically ran on caffeine. Some things never change. 

“So, At Attin?”

You look up at him and take a long drink of your caf. Jod nods at your words and leans against the counter across from you — still in disbelief over the revelation.

“It’s real.”

“So, I’m told. Wim even gave me one of these.”

You pull out an Old Republic credit from your pocket, and Jod simply stares at the little piece of metal in your hands. The things he’s done just to get his hands on a stash of those old credits — the people he’s killed, the friends he’s betrayed, the loved ones he’s left behind. It haunts him. And yet, he’s practically salivating at the credit in your hand, and if you were anyone else… Well, old habits die hard, he supposes.

His reaction makes you let out a dry laugh, and you place the Old Republic credit on the counter beside you. You take another sip of caf before confronting him.

“That’s what you’re doing this for, right? Chasing down an old pirate’s fairytale for a couple of credits?”

Jod’s face falls at your insinuation. He thought if anyone would understand how incredible this information was, it was you. His posture turns uncharacteristically rigid as he now feels the need to defend himself. 

“It’s real, Jewels. The kids, they said…”

“They’re children, Jod! Children make up stories all the time — they would be from anywhere in the star systems. Have you even thought this through?”

Jod’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head furiously at your words. 

“No, it has to be real. They wouldn’t offer up a reward they can’t cash in.”

“They would if they thought it was the only way you’d stick around.”

Jod prepares to bite back at your claim but stops as he notices your downcast expression. That’s why you thought he never came back? The realization slaps him in the face. You may believe that he cares for treasure and coin more than your company, but you couldn’t be more wrong. His longing for you is burrowed deep into his bones. Your voice, which he carefully burned into his memory, was his only companion. You were his every waking thought and his every idyllic dream during his time in that dank, dark cell. 

“I had every intention of coming back to you.”

You let out a frustrated huff at his words but note how his voice has softened. His gaze is intense as he waits for your response.

“If you wanted to, you would have.”

The palpable hurt in your tone makes him feel like someone just stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife. You should never feel unwanted — especially by him. Not when Jod knows it’s been you all along. 

Not coin. Not treasure. Not even the Old Republic credit he’s miraculously forgotten about on the counter. You.

“You have it all wrong.”

You roll your eyes at his words, and for a moment, he thinks you’re about to argue with him. But you stay silent, letting him continue. 

“I meant it. What I said to you the last time I left. But I was wrong about the credits — they were moved before we arrived. And you know how much that stash meant to the crew — how life-changing those credits would have been for every single one of them. So, Brutus invoked the Pirate’s Code, and I yielded, knowing I needed to get back to you. And I’ve been stuck in a cell on Borgo Prime ever since.”

Your mind is reeling as you take in his words. All this time, you thought he’d been plundering the galaxy. But, instead, he’s been imprisoned on a planet a mere day’s travel away. 

“You’ve been that close this entire time?”

Jod nods at your words, and his heart breaks as tears begin to well up in your eyes. He takes a daring step forward. With no opposition from you, he takes another step and then another. He’s invading your personal space once again, but this time, you aren’t complaining. You place your now lukewarm cup of caf on the counter beside you, next to the forgotten Old Republic credit. 

“How’d you know where to find me?”

Jod places his hands on either side of the counter, caging you in before answering.

“Brutus had the crew keep tabs on you. At first, to make sure you didn’t come looking for me. But then, he just did it to torment me with all of the details of your new life without me. When I escaped that damn spaceport with those kids, I came straight here.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you look up at Jod. You know you should be angry at him. Furious. There’s a long list of wrongs that he needs to right before he’s an upstanding man. But as he stands before you, looking down with nothing but adoration in his gaze, you cannot find it in yourself to be anything other than content. Jod ducks his head down a little lower, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m truly sorry, Jewels.”

You lift up on your toes, closing the distance between you, and capture his lips with yours. He moves his hands from the counter to your waist, greedily tugging you closer to him. The way he touches you is urgent — this is all he’s dreamed of for years, and he won’t waste a single moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you with just as much desperation. The kiss is deep, passionate, and ravenous. Eventually, you both must pull away — the need for air outweighing the need for each other.

After catching his breath, Jod smiles brightly down at you. And he’s suddenly Crimson Jack again — the charismatic and dangerously charming pirate you fell in love with all those years ago. But there’s a newfound maturity and sincerity that makes him less like Crimson Jack and more like the man you always knew he could be: Jod Na Nawood. And it’s for that reason that you know what he must do.

“You have to leave again, right?”

Jod sighs, nodding at your words. He presses his forehead against yours, wishing to stay in your embrace for the rest of his days. But he’s made promises that he must keep. Promises that will take him far from you, but he has to make sure these kids get home — wherever home is. But after he does right by the children, he can finally begin doing right by you. And that starts with coming back — and then maybe replacing the speeder bike that you sold off for him. He knows he may never be able to right every wrong he’s done, but he’ll spend the rest of his life making them up to you — as long as you let him.

“This is the last time, I promise.”

And against all odds, you believe him. 

[headslikekites]

sometimes I forget I'm a real-ass adult and have been for years because I do not know shit or fuck what I'm doing in any sense whatsoever

[dollishmehrayan]

# “MRS. WAYNE I THINK THIS IS FOR YOU!” ── .✦ ( bruce wayne wife headcannons )

a/n: this was request by a anon (here) so yeah but anyways I Lowkey used to be OBSESSED with like batmom stories but like I genuinely then lost all care for liking anything bruce wayne but this might just like help me (jason todd girly converts into a batmom Stan😭) tags: (bruce wayne x fem!reader)

CHAOTIC HEADCANNONS ── .✦

“No, Bruce. That’s Not a Normal Thing to Do.”

You frequently have to remind him that billionaire habits don’t translate to normal life.

Bruce: “I thought I’d buy out the café you like so you wouldn’t have to wait in line.”

You: “Bruce, we’re just getting lattes. Calm down.”

The expensive car Dilemma: He’s tried picking you up in one of his expensive cars once, and you’ve never let him live it down.

“Bruce, we’re not running a car dealership we’re going to Target.”

Tech Mishaps: Bruce likes to show off his gadgets, but they always malfunction around you. Once, the Batcomputer locked him out because you accidentally spilled coffee near it. You took a picture of his shocked face and made it your phone wallpaper for weeks.

The Disastrous Cooking Attempts: Bruce insists he can cook. The truth? Alfred banned him from the kitchen after he tried to “surprise” you with pancakes and set the stovetop on fire.

“I’m Batman, but I can’t handle pancake batter.”

OVERPROTECTIVE HUSBAND™ ── .✦

He’ll interrogate any new friends you bring around like they’re suspects in a heist.

Bruce, shaking someone’s hand firmly: “And what do you do for a living?”

You, glaring: “Bruce, they’re not applying to join the Justice League.”

GOSSIP FINAL BOSS ── .✦

He pretends not to care about gossip, but he secretly listens to you rant about gala drama. Sometimes, he’ll even chime in with hilariously accurate observations.

You: “That woman was glaring at me all night.”

Bruce: “Because she kept seeing her husband looking at you’re instagram posts. Trust me, Alfred told me.”

ROMANTIC HCS ── .✦

Constant Gentleman Mode: Bruce is always opening doors for you, carrying your bags, or pulling out your chair. You tease him about being old-fashioned, but it’s clear he loves taking care of you.

Private Dance Lessons in the Manor: When you’re stressed, Bruce will put on some music in the empty ballroom and sweep you into an impromptu dance. He’s a surprisingly good dancer, but the way he looks at you mid-spin? That’s what makes your heart race.

Personal Love Notes: Bruce doesn’t text much, but he leaves little handwritten notes around the house.

“Don’t forget, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Coffee’s ready downstairs. So is your husband, who can’t stop thinking about you.”

The ‘I’m Watching You’ Look: At galas, Bruce can’t stop staring at you. When you catch him, he gives that little smirk that says, Yeah, you caught me, but I’m not sorry.

Soft Batman Moments: Even in the Batcave, he has moments where he’s just your Bruce. When he sees you waiting up for him late at night, he’ll silently take off his cowl, walk over, and hold you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Protective, but Not Controlling: He worries, of course, but he respects your independence. If you’re ever in trouble, though, the Bat is out faster than you can blink. “No one touches my wife.”

Gift Giving Expert: He puts serious thought into gifts. One time, he recreated your childhood bedroom in the manor when you were feeling homesick. “I just wanted you to feel at home,” he said, completely nonchalant.

The Morning Ritual: He wakes up early to watch you sleep for a few minutes (in the least creepy way possible) because it’s his quiet reminder of how lucky he is. When you stir awake, he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers, “Good morning, love.”

Subtle Public Affection: In public, his affection is subtle—hand on the small of your back, thumb grazing your hand, or an almost imperceptible wink across the room. But behind closed doors? He’s all cuddles and kisses.

Always Puts You First: Whether it’s cutting a patrol short to spend time with you or risking everything to keep you safe, Bruce’s priority will always be you. “The city can wait. You can’t.”

MIX OF CHAOS AND ROMANCE ── .✦

When Bruce tries to be romantic but Alfred bringing him back to reality: Bruce, holding your hand: “You’re the light in my dark world.”

Alfred, walking in: “Sir, you said that to the last woman, too. Shall I fetch your script?”

You once jokingly wore a bat-symbol T-shirt to tease him. Bruce didn’t say anything, but later that week, he wore a matching shirt that said, “I <3 My Wife.”

[mostly-imagines]

answering a question nobody asked: what are jason's love languages ranked?

giving:

5 ) gift giving is bottom tier for him. i just dont see how he could value that more than any of the above because of the way he grew up. like material things and money seem like something he’d reject more than anything to me. but he does still give you presents, of course. he’ll buy you flowers randomly and jewelry and little things he’d noticed you admiring. but i dont think he really does it as a method of expressing his love for you so much as just like a little nice thing to do for you. its not his preferred method of communication, at least.

4 ) a little lower on the list comes words of affirmation because i don’t think it comes as naturally to him. he’s a man of few words and those chosen are caked in sarcasm and dry in a way that attempts to push people away, even if he doesn’t mean to. i just think his words can be rough around the edges even if his meaning isn’t. when he can work through it though, his words are very gentle and genuine. not one for hyperbole but really truly means what he says. he hears that you’re insecure about how a dress looks on you and he’s telling you to ‘shut up, you look good.’ or you’re nervous and he’ll say “you’re fine, don’t worry about it.” to someone else’s ears it might sound dismissive but you know that not how he means it. there’s a lot of unsaid words with him that are more significant than whats coming out of his mouth. like i said though, only like level 10 acquaintances and you will ever know him well enough to decipher those secret meanings.

3 ) he tends to treat himself like a loner, pulling away from people like second nature, but after he met you he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. he’s not the best with words or romantic gestures so quality time is an easier way of reminding you he loves you. he likes just sitting with you and letting you ramble about your day—listening to your voice is a big part of his calming down process every night. but sitting in comfortable silence with you is probably his favorite. he doesn’t get that with a lot of people. silence—sure; comfortable—not so much. he loves the implied intimacy and trust of quietly cooking, napping together, or doing your own things in the same space.

2 ) physical touch is another big one for him. only unlockable after entering a relationship with him. he does it for a lot of reasons, common ones include: as a reminder that he’s there, to ease anxiety (yours or his own), as a sort of fidget, or if he’s feeling a little possessive. its honestly going to shock his family how much he initiates touch with you. he’ll shove them off of him when they try to hug him and is likely to throw hands if they get too touchy. so when they meet you for the first time and he’s squeezing your hand in his the whole night, shoulder to shoulder with you—they’re surprised, to say the least. as time goes on they start to notice that he looks borderline uncomfortable when he’s not touching you—like he doesn’t know what to do with his body. his favorite ways to touch you (non sexually) include: keeping you pressed back to his chest, having your leg hooked atop his when you’re sitting hanging out, hand on the back of your neck, and hands on your hips are a must.

1 ) jason's prime method of communication is through acts of service. he fully believes it’s his responsibility to take care of you and doing things for you comes very naturally to him anyways. he’s known to refuse to let you carry things, let you have the comfortable chair, give you the last of his snack, that kind of thing. he also wants to make your life easier as much as possible—he’ll insist on you telling him about things you need, especially things you aren’t able to do yourself. you never ever have to hire a guy to come look at anything broken in your apartment, jason’s got that shit under wraps. he’d honestly be a little hurt if you did. he’s got a wide array of skills under his belt, he can fix leaky pipes, install locks, build furniture, repair cars, you name it.

receiving:

5 ) he always appreciates getting gifts from you but it’s not necessarily his preferred way of receiving your love. gift giving and acts of service are bottom tier because they’re the only ones that he feels like are taking away from you. costing you money or energy, wasting it on him—he doesn’t want you to do that. he can’t feel loved by the gesture when he’s busy concerning himself with the idea that he’s putting you out for it. when you do give him gifts he likes it most when they’re little things, especially things that you made. make him a friendship bracelet, a simple painting, a fucking paper crane—he’ll love it. with things like that, it makes him really happy to see how excited you are to show him and that’s when he feels the love from you.

4 ) it’s always a little hit or miss with acts of service. he has a hard time accepting help, especially from you. he tends to feel like its his job to take care of you and if you have to help him, he’s doing something wrong. the best way to perform acts of service for him is through littler things. cooking his favorite dinner, checking up on how his stitches are healing, covering him up when its cold and he’s too busy/stubborn to go get a blanket. don’t make a whole thing about it, just do it and he’ll notice and he’ll be thinking about it for a while.

3 ) for the same reasons as mentioned earlier, he loves quality time with you. he prefers being on the receiving end of it though because he is a little insecure and absolutely loves when you go out of your way to spend time with him. tell him you want to be around him, tell him you miss him, tell him you’re happy he’s here. warning: he might cry.

2 ) you’ll notice this one because his breath will literally hitch. physical touch is one of the most prominent methods of affection in your relationship and he never gets used to it. the presence of just your head on his shoulder or your hand in his provides such a noticeable release of tension for him. he’s a huge huge fan of you tracing patterns anywhere on his skin, playing with his hair, and wrapping your arms around his middle so you can hold him close. climb on his lap unexpectedly and his heart will skip a few beats.

1 ) he won't ever admit it, but words of affirmation are his absolute biggest weakness. your boy has a praise kink, but i also think it's difficult for him to accept that so you have to be subtle about it and work up. it gets him really blushy and if you can manage to get him talking, he’s stammering. he can’t hold eye contact for shit when you call him pretty and it’s very amusing to you to see such a quick and drastic shift in his disposition. things that have straight up put him out of commission include: calling him “my pretty boy,” or “sweet boy,” “you always take such good care of me,” “you’re so strong,” “you’re the love of my life.” “i’m proud of you” will literally put him on his knees.

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[maxtermind]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart. 

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[please-destroy]

Moments of Respite

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

.

Your body aches with the fight you’ve barely survived. 

The flight home from Sokovia is the longest of your life. Steve had practically thrown food rations  at the team, but they are all long finished now. So is any conversation, sheer exhaustion flattening the atmosphere.  

Wanda Maximoff sits on the far side of the Quinjet. The rest of the team are quiet, wordlessly favouring the other half of the aircraft. 

Wanda seems uncaring of her surroundings. Her long, dark hair is matted with dirt and blood. It shrouds her figure strangely. Only Clint watches her as openly as you.

You can’t keep your eyes away from her. There is something about her stillness. It scares you and thrills you in the same breath. Wanda watches the blue sky outside the jet, as if she isn’t really here, as if nothing is real. 

Her eyes burn with bitter life. 

When you land, it is Clint who clears his throat and walks over to her. Wordlessly, he nods his head at the exit. Wanda follows him with the empty footsteps of grief.

You aren’t quite sure why you follow them too.

Sunshine slicks pleasantly over your skin as you hurry across the lawn toward the Avenger’s building. Already, Clint and Wanda are disappearing inside.

You wait for the elevator to the residents’ quarters. When the doors open at last, Clint is standing there alone.��

He touches your arm. 

‘We don’t know her.’ He reminds you calmly. You wonder what he can see on your face. You nod but don’t answer. 

You enter the elevator as he walks out. Clint shakes his head and you worry that you really are making a big mistake. You try to ignore the thought, trusting the strong new instinct inside you that wants to follow her. 

When do you ever listen to Clint anyway?

You press the elevator button for the floor with the largest guest rooms. 

When the doors open, nerves strike you. 

You press the ‘doors close’ button hurriedly and go to your own floor instead. 

In your own living quarters, you go to your window, watching as the other Avengers disembark slowly from the Quinjet. Your fingers tap a nervous beat against the windowsill. 

You watch as Pepper meets Tony in the middle of the grass, bringing him into a tight hug. You watch Natasha’s arm slink around Clint as she leans tiredly into him. 

You think of Wanda and her dead brother and feel your gut twist with pity. 

It’s why you go back to the elevator.

This time, you get as far as Wanda’s door. It’s already ajar. You clear your throat as you push it open. 

Wanda doesn’t react. She sits stiffly at the edge of her bed. Her figure is silhouetted against a large window. She faces away from you, watching the same scenes play out on the grass. 

Your feet walk you forward. 

You look down at Wanda and the feeling of sympathy only doubles. 

Her eyes slide over to regard you dully.

You offer out your hand, not sure if she’ll take it.

‘You need to wash your hair.’ You tell her quietly. You have never spoken to her directly before. 

Wanda closes her eyes and you watch sudden, unbearable heaviness return to her shoulders. You hate yourself for bringing her back to reality.

‘I can’t.’ She whispers, voice rasping from lack of use. 

You take her hand and squeeze it once. Wanda grips it tight as she gets to her feet, following you into the bathroom. 

As her feet hit the tiles, Wanda begins to strip automatically out of her grimy clothes. Her eyes do not glance to you. You hold back your shock, realising with sudden clarity just how invisible you are to her. How meaningless everything is.

The thought bolsters you weirdly. You kick off your shoes, before removing every other piece of clothing, except your t-shirt and underwear. Wanda keeps a tight hold of your hand as you lead her into the shower. 

She lets go obediently as she turns to face the jet of water. She washes herself numbly, as you work through the wet tangles in her hair, applying shampoo and conditioner in turn. 

The steady thrum of water is comforting as you focus on your task. 

A few minutes later, you turn the shower off and find Wanda a towel. It is a comically large and luxurious one. Wrapped in it, Wanda seems encompassed in a fluffy cloud of cotton. 

You dry yourself efficiently then, removing your wet t-shirt and putting your dry sweats back on. Wet underwear seems like a ridiculous discomfort to worry about. 

When you turn back to Wanda, she hasn’t yet moved. You say her name quietly.

Wanda’s stare turns to you with sudden intensity. Her mouth hangs open slightly as her breathing becomes more rapid. 

Desperate emotions cross her face, but grief chokes them all. You touch her bare shoulder cautiously. 

Wanda’s lungs desperately search for air. She curves slightly, as if her stomach cavity has been hollowed out.

She hurries past you, back to the room that is barely hers.

You follow her cautiously. 

She is sitting again on the edge of the bed. This time, you sit next to her. Her shoulders are curved inwards.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ You admit, more to yourself than to her. The words feel blunt and honest. Part of you wishes immediately that you hadn’t spoken.

Wanda’s head tilts, moving slowly to rest against your shoulder. Your arm moves automatically around her shoulders. Her wet hair soaks through your sleeve. She cries tiredly.

You feel your heart beating steadily in your chest. You are glad that you followed her.

Minutes later, Wanda leans heavier against you as overwhelming exhaustion lulls her to sleep.

Your back aches unbearably, but you focus on the feeling of gladness. 

.

Pietro’s funeral is barely a funeral. 

Wanda wanted to bury him. But a superhuman’s body is valuable, dead or alive. 

A twisted embarrassment runs over Wanda’s face as she scatters his ashes below the large tree. 

You hate knowing that it feels so wrong to her.

Sokovia’s borders are not open to pilgrimages of grief. There wasn’t anywhere else special to do this.

‘Put me here too.’ Wanda murmurs as she walks back over to the small group of you, Clint and Steve. You nod silently. Clint seems entirely impassive. Steve touches Wanda’s shoulder supportively, but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

As you walk back to the Compound, her cold hand finds its way back into yours. You squeeze it tightly. 

The full team is waiting inside. Tony and Pepper hadn’t been invited out to the tree, the Stark Industries connection being an unspoken barrier. They wait with the others, just inside the main door.

You are frustrated at their insistence in being involved at all. It is not the time to reopen old wounds.

Inside, several traditional Sokovian dishes have been provided by a catering company. The drinks bar on the other side features Sokovian vodka prominently. You watch a careful wall develop behind Wanda’s eyes. You understand why. The gesture feels jarringly intrusive. As if Tony has dug up pieces of Wanda’s past and put them on display.

Steve talks to Wanda earnestly, telling her that Pietro was a hero. You watch her jaw tighten slightly at his words. You squeeze her hand again, wishing you could do anything else. 

Wanda slips her hand out of yours. She ignores the empty plates provided, instead going straight to the drinks bar. 

The atmosphere settles familiarly with everyone else, especially with Wanda on the other side of the room. Rhodey starts talking to you about something mundane. 

You watch Wanda pour herself a drink.

The awkwardness of the formal event makes every minute spent feel like an hour. After polite conversations with most people in the room, you watch Wanda slip away. 

Barely five minutes later, you do the same. You pretend not to see the others commenting on your hurried exit.

Her room is empty. You step into it briefly, scanning for signs of occupation. You stop at her window, heart sinking as you realise Wanda looks directly onto the large tree with ashes scattered beneath it.

A tight claustrophobic feeling binds itself around your chest. You hurry from the room, down the emergency stairwell, intending to find some fresh air. 

You nearly trip over Wanda, huddled on a stair. 

Apologies fly from your mouth instantly. Wanda stands up, brushing her dress off. Her face is pale and you can see the tremble in her fingers. 

Her attention is turned to you. 

‘Are you okay?’ She asks. 

‘Are you?’ You challenge unthinkingly. Wanda rolls her eyes. Her foot taps a large stolen bottle of Russian vodka, standing on the step below her.

‘No.’ She replies matter of factly. ‘I’m having a funeral.’ 

You nod, eyeing the vodka with a surge of envy.

‘Can I join?’ You ask bluntly.

.

Twenty minutes later, the world is getting hazy at the edges.  

The door at the bottom of the stairwell thuds open and you both startle. 

Together, you peer over the ledge. Wanda’s hand presses down on your inner thigh as she leans for a better view. You try not to think about how it feels.

For a moment, there is silence and no movement below. Then, Natasha appears, looking right up at you.

‘That is my vodka.’ She calls out. 

‘Was.’ You correct her teasingly. Natasha’s expression crinkles with a half smile.

‘Toast him from me.’ She requests simply, gaze meeting Wanda’s. 

Wanda nods and Natasha leaves, the door thudding again behind her. 

You lift the vodka bottle in silent toast, taking a drink before passing to Wanda. 

As she drinks, you notice a beauty mark on her cheek. Your eyes linger a little too long. 

Wanda watches you thoughtfully, before she puts the bottle down. 

She takes your hand carefully into her lap and lays it there gently, palm up. She traces the outline of your hand with her forefinger. Tingles shoot along your arm and down your spine. 

Drunkenly, you decided that Wanda is in fact magic. 

You watch as she carves a featherlight ‘P’ into your palm with her finger. You know the rest of the word to follow. 

When she’s  finished, Wanda begins again. You watch half hypnotised, overwhelmed by a feeling that you can’t name.

She writes her brother’s name again and again into your skin.

You don’t realise you are crying until the tears slide from your face.

‘He was your brother.’ You whisper with strange reverence, staring down at your palm. Wanda nods silently, pressing her thumb slowly into your palm. You curl your fingers gently around her and kiss the fist you make.

.

Weeks fly together after the funeral. Everyone seeks out a sense of routine, including Wanda.

Missions and training are the group focus of each day. 

There is no use denying the way you feel about Wanda. But, you try anyway. 

You are her only friend. You do your best not to mess it up.

Wanda trains far longer each day than you do. She is passed between different Avengers for specialised training. Natasha and Steve have sessions with her every day. 

Each afternoon, Wanda seeks you out in your room. You lie together on your bed, watching old sitcoms on the TV in the corner. Wanda’s hair is always wet from her shower and you fight a feeling of deja vu when she leans against you. 

You eat dinner together every evening. Sometimes afterward, Wanda’s head rests even heavier against your shoulder. You stay as still as you can, praying she might fall asleep. She never does.

You know that eventually something will disrupt the carefully balanced routine. 

It is a Tuesday. You are talking with Sam in the kitchen. 

A muffled explosion makes the building shudder. 

You are both already on your way toward the noise, when Jarvis informs you that it is a training accident. 

Sam slows down when Jarvis clarifies that nobody is hurt. You don’t.

As you approach the main training room, Steve is exiting it. He brushes past you like you’re not even there, shaking his head in preoccupation. 

You enter the room cautiously. Natasha is standing just inside the door. Her voice is pitched low, intentionally calming. 

You take in the scene. 

Mangled fitness equipment lies scattered. Training weapons are embedded like makeshift javelins in the wooden floor. 

Wanda stands at the heart of the explosion. There is no red aura around her, but it’s like you can taste the residue of it in the air.

Natasha gives you a cautionary look, as if she’s the zookeeper standing between you and a tiger.

‘Wanda.’ You call out anyway. The red pulse that marks your words is unmistakable.

‘Don’t come near me.’ Wanda spits at you. Her eyes train on Natasha again . “Either of you.’

Natasha’s jaw tightens as she nods.

‘Okay.’ She says calmly, keeping her front to Wanda as she backs out of the room. Through the glass pane in the door, Natasha waits for you to follow. 

You shake your head imperceptibly. Concern floods Natasha’s face before she leaves. 

You slide to sit on the ground, back against the wall.

You are alone together. There is the loudest silence. You can hear Wanda’s frustration in her breathing.

‘I told you to go.’ Wanda tells you in a tight voice. Minutes have passed. You wonder if she knows. 

‘You’re not a monster.’ You tell her resolutely, stretching for one of the unopened water bottles left discarded along with some kit bags. ‘I’m not treating you like one.’

Another minute passes. You sip the water that you don’t really want, grateful to have anything to do.

‘I am.’ Wanda whispers finally. She falls slowly to her knees.

‘You’re not.’ You counter firmly, climbing back to your feet. You walk over in a quick few steps, refusing to acknowledge any danger in being here. 

You feel Wanda tense worriedly as you get closer. So, you sit back down several feet away from her.

You slide the water bottle across the floor and Wanda takes it.

‘I’m not normal.’ She amends, fingers twisting the bottle cap. 

‘Doesn’t mean you’re a monster.’ You insist, feeling a hot protectiveness in your chest. 

‘You don’t know.’ Wanda tells you; and you see the echo of her mistakes written across her face.

‘I’d like to.’ You admit unthinkingly. 

Wanda looks back up at you. Her eyes feel fiery but her expression is pained. 

‘Don’t say things that you don’t mean.’ She warns, her accent curling harshly around the words. 

‘Never.’ You promise immediately. 

Realisation falls upon her face as you hold her stare. Wanda blows out a shaky breath. 

‘Don’t say things that you don’t mean.’ She whispers again. 

You crawl across the space between you. Your heart is in your mouth. 

‘Never.’ You hear yourself repeat. 

Wanda’s eyes are desperate, but she faces you with perfect stillness.

You brush her hair as you cup her jaw. Her eyes flutter shut at the sensation, her lips part slightly. 

You kiss her gently. You think of how delicate she doesn’t know she is. Her lips feel soft and then they feel like home.

—-----

You find her alone in the kitchen. It has been four weeks since the kiss in the training room. A month since everything clicked into place.

‘Hey.’ You call, unable to wipe the immediate smile from your face.

Wanda tenses and then she swears in a language you don’t understand. 

You hesitate in surprise.  

‘I’m cooking you dinner.’ Wanda informs you tensely, a moment later. 

You smell the air and hesitate at the strong but unfamiliar aroma. Wanda catches your unsure reaction. 

‘Something you’ve never heard of.’ She tells you, looking down at the stove in an attempt to hide her smile.

‘Yum.’ You tell her enthusiastically, walking over to the island counter. 

Wanda snorts, leaning familiarly back against you as your hands slide around her waist. You rest your head on her shoulder, sneaking a glance down at the mysterious dish. You are relieved to recognise chicken.

You revel in Wanda’s closeness, holding her tighter for a long moment.

‘I really do want to try it.’ You assure her. ‘It looks good.’ 

Wanda nods, but she doesn’t speak. 

Your fingers slide under her top, resting at her hip. You rub circles with your thumb against her skin. 

‘It’s my favourite meal.’ Wanda tells you quietly. You press your lips against her collarbone as you listen. ‘But it’s supposed to be something that you share.’

The echoes of her past feel weighted now. You stroke her cheek unthinkingly. 

‘Let me set the table.’ You offer simply.

.

You take the first piece of chicken from your plate and go to try it. You pretend Wanda’s eyes aren’t glued to you in anticipation.

The spice kicks in at the back of your throat and you splutter a cough. Your eyes water and you hear yourself wheeze as you reach for your drink.

Wanda is already on her feet, panic radiating from her. Her hand is on your back. 

There is an awful, embarrassing moment as you continue to splutter.

‘No.’ You finally force yourself to speak hoarsely, hitting yourself in the chest. ‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ You give an awkward thumbs up as you finally swallow.

Wanda falls back in her seat. You watch her cover her face with her hands. A strange laugh bubbles out of her,

‘I thought I’d killed you.’ She admits suddenly.

You touch her shoulder unsurely. You can feel her start to shake, as her laughter descends into strange sobs. You taste the lump in your throat as you realise how very real her fear was. 

You want to tell her it’s illogical, irrational to worry about something like that. That you won’t die so easily. That it would never be her fault. 

You can’t lie.

You take her hand instead, pulling her wordlessly to your lap. Wanda buries her face against you, and you feel hot tears trickle down your neck. 

She clings to you in a way that she never has before. 

She has never seemed so vulnerable. You rub her back, hoping desperately that she doesn’t feel so vulnerable too.

Her cries slow and she takes a steadying breath. Wanda lifts her face to face the ceiling and wipes the tears from her pale cheeks. Your eyes catch automatically on her beauty mark. 

She moves to leave your lap, but you keep her steady. 

Wanda turns to face you, confused. 

You offer her your fork, another piece of chicken on the end. You shrug.

‘It’s meant to be shared.’

[sepublic]

I cannot imagine being Camila Noceda because so much of her arc starts around her being scared for her child, wanting her to do well and succeed and being afraid she’ll get hurt. And then right under her nose, her daughter has disappeared on some adventure in another world but at least she seems fine, right?

But you still let yourself break and you end up saying things you might regret. And then it’s only when you begin to worry about her that she comes back and she is scarred. She’s hurt. There’s a cut on her eyebrow and you realize it will never heal. It always reminds you of how you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t protect your daughter from those who hurt her, and if you’d been enough for Luz then maybe she wouldn’t have needed to come to the isles to begin with and be injured. You see how she’s begun to loathe and hate herself, because of things and people entirely outside of her control, and you couldn’t have been there to comfort her when she needed it. So now it’s built up for Luz into this horrific trauma that she hasn’t even yet begun to unpack.

Camila is stronger than everyone because if I’d seen my kid come back like that, I’d have broken apart asking what happened, are you okay, etc. But instead she remains strong because she can see that Luz and her kids are scared and they really need an adult who can be strong for them. Camila probably thought about what happened in Yesterday’s Lie afterwards, and come to regret her outburst; She must’ve guessed how it hurt Luz and made her feel terrible and alas she was right! So she vowed not to make that same mistake again and be even stronger next time, and she was!!!

But man that must’ve been so scary and helpless and painful, seeing what happened under your watch. Being unable to provide a fix in getting her back home, so of course Camila goes along to the Demon Realm once she gets that opportunity, because this all started because she wasn’t there for her daughter when she needed her most. Of course she supports her in coming out, as well as in staying in the isles; She won't blame Eda for giving Luz what she wanted and needed, as Eda herself couldn't be a hypocrite by telling Luz to stay with her mom. Camila won’t let Luz face this stuff alone like last time, not when she knows and Luz feels better about trusting her (or had to, anyway) and it’s what saves Luz!!! Because when Luz relapses after failing against Kikimora, it’s Camila who’s there to pick her back up and tell her everything she needs, which leads to Luz’s palisman String Bean finally emerging!!!

But then Luz dies and just. That scar must’ve reminded Camila that she wasn’t there to protect her daughter from anyone that might hurt her. And despite helping a little against Kikimora, it still happened again. Permanently. Man I wish Camila had a “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH” moment to get back at Belos for all she did her to child. But Camila had to keep going because after Yesterday’s Lie, she knew she still had other kids to look after. She was strong for Vee during Yesterday’s Lie, only to let herself drop right afterwards in front of Luz. But not again. No time for self pity, you just have to move on after a death and keep living, just as you did with Manny. And in the end, Luz IS all right, and she’s better than she’s ever been and there’s some huge relief.

Just augh Camila Noceda. Luz went on an isekai adventure, but maybe so did her mother? And I don’t mean with the Boiling Isles, I mean with the U.S. Camila might have been an immigrant, and not just the child/descendant of one. And even if she wasn’t, she still moved to Gravesfield. So in general so much of her life has been about going to another world and trying to survive and feel comfortable in it. As it was for Luz, too; But they survived along the way and found what fellow “weirdoes” they could, with Camila meeting Manny, who could’ve also related to her as a fellow Dominican American. And now she’s found others who can relate to Camila in other ways, as Manny also related to her as a huge nerd.

[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[sapphireis]

Dark/Yan Aemond HCs

ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: DARK CONTENT, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), Bad English, Toxic Relationship, Implied AFAB Reader (talk about pregnancy and stuff in a part, but for the rest pretty GN), Jealousy, Manipulation, Breeding Kink a bit, OOC?, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! ➳ Characters: Aemond Targaryen

⤠ I'd do anything for you, Mrs. Highness (Aemond) ⤟ Masterlist (soon!) ⤠ None ⤟

hello hotd fandom... pls be nice to me since this is my first time posting smth about this fandom hndhhd and I'm also very insecure about my writing rn, anyway... i wrote this mostly for myself so I'm sorry LMAO

He's so possessive and protective of you. To the point where you can't go anywhere without guards who are loyal to him, due to his paranoia. Aemond would prefer to be your guard all the time, but alas he is unfortunately a very busy man so he has to trust the guards

When you are forced to do parties or appear in public Aemond is always around you or watching you, his eye never really leaves your figure. He always has his hands over you either on your lower back, guiding you where he wants, or on your waist. To remind you who you belong to.

Heleana and Alicent are the only one who he lets be around you when he is gone to keep you company, his brother Aegon? AH. No. Maybe Daeron, but Aegon absolutely not. Why would you want to spend time with a drunken fool?

In truth he is insanely jealous about everything and everyone, including his own family. He trusts his sister and mother to not pry too much into your relationship, and in fact his mother is more of an enabler for him. She is just so glad her son finally found someone he loves and cares about, so that he isn't alone anymore. How could she deny him such happiness?

Will try to get the two of you married instant. As soon as he saw you Aemond knew he had to marry you, it doesn't matter if you are highborn or not to him. Much to his mother and grandsire's displeasure of course

Once you are married of course he's gonna make you pregnant if possible. You wouldn't try to get away from him with a child on its way no? When he has endless ways of helping you with a babe, both during the pregnancy, the birth, and the years to come. Why have it the hard way when you can live a life of luxury?

Talking about a life of luxury, Aemond will give you anything you might need and more to keep you compliant. However, some things are not negotiable like for example what you wear: its either green or sapphire blue, no other clothes are tolerated for him. If you want to be more transgressive you can wear something outside of that, though the consequences...

He's so manipulative and wouldn't care to bring the situation in his favour, and would absolutely use your own emotion against you. "If you are hurt imagine how I feel" and stuff like that is often said when you two are fighting often over nothing, if not directly about Aemond's way of treating you.

You think it's unfair, Aemond thinks you don't understand how he feels. There is a war coming and he won't always be there protecting you since he will be on the battlefield. Its only fair that he fears for your safety, no? What kind of husband would he be otherwise?

This work belongs to @/sapphireis, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡

[honeytonedhottie]

fostering and living out confidence⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁🍬

CONFIDENCE ANALOGY ;

think of unshakable confidence as a fragrance, there are three layers to fragrance, the base note, mid note and the top note. thats what makes the fragrance stick and creates the scent we love so so much. confidence is similar in that way, its not just a mask or a front, at least not authentic confidence.

SOOO after thinking of this analogy im going to structure todays post like that, just to keep things simple and easy to apply. anyways, lets talk about confidence…💬🎀

BASE NOTE ;

the base of self confidence is self love. period. you can think of a billion other ways to say this but the base will never change. the base of ur self confidence is how much you love yourself. so how do we get a strong base? a strong foundation of self love thats gonna make sure that our self confidence remains intact?

start treating yourself like someone that u care about. treat urself like you would a friend, would you criticize them harshly for every mistake? would you tear them down when they’re struggling? no, you’d encourage them, remind them of their worth, and help them grow. now it’s time to do that for yourself. cuz why are u treating others better than u treat urself?

a really important aspect of self love is FORGIVENESS. forgiving yourself and having compassion for yourself cuz we hold ourselves to such a higher standard then we do others, especially if you're a perfectionist. and that can become really toxic, really quickly.

MID NOTE ;

the mid note of self confidence is trust in yourself. it’s the belief that you can handle whatever life throws your way. it’s knowing that even if you stumble, you’ll figure out how to get back up. its knowing that YOU'LL HAVE UR BACK even if others dont. we can build up our self trust by...

♡ doing what we say we'll do

♡ following thru on promises made to ourselves

♡ practicing self discipline

♡ trust ur gut feeling

♡ say no when u dont want to do something

some words that u can add to ur vocabulary to be more confident and advocate for urself properly is "absolutely not" or simply NO. theres so much power in the word NO so make sure to use it more…💬🎀

♡ honor your feelings and honor your wants + needs

self confidence is the mid note of confidence because without self trust, ur confidence wavers because you’re constantly second guessing your abilities and choices and thats not sustainable at all. you have to know and TRUST that ur that girl. bcuz u are.

TOP NOTE ;

the top note of confidence is how u express yourself. its the top note because thats what radiates outward and its how the world notices u first. self expression is how you own ur individuality, how you voice ur own opinions. how u express urself AUTHENTICALLY. in essence, self-expression is about living boldly and unapologetically as you. because isnt it so freeing to just be who you are? now what are some ways we can cultivate our self expression?

♡ having creative outlets

♡ exploring ur interests

♡ having ur own personal style, signature, brand etc

♡ journalling

GET COMFY IN UR OWN SKIN ; 

i feel like the most confident people are dancers. i feel this way cuz of the way my own confidence SKYROCKETED after i started dancing. i feel like dancing gives u a sense of control over ur own body and its just amazing.

whenever i feel like i need a little boost of confidence or i wanna feel sexy and good in my own skin i DANCE. and i promise that it helps so so much. i dance around in my room in my panties all the time and it’s like therapy. 

embarrassment does NOT exist, stop making urself feel awkward or embarrassed for making mistakes sometimes, learn to laugh and not take everything so seriously.

ALTER EGO CONCEPT ;

an alter ego is a persona you create—someone you embody when you need to channel certain traits, strengths, or energies that you might not fully feel in your everyday self…💬🎀 

using an alter ego is super helpful when it comes to confidence because it helps u to detach from ur insecurities. you temporarily set aside your fears and limitations and adopt the mindset and behaviors of your alter ego.

using alter egos can even help u to access different strengths that u never knew u had because ur removing the limitations that u place on urself. lets talk about how to create an alter ego.

HOW TO CREATE AN ALTER EGO ;

first start off by identifying the traits that u want to have, then give ur alter ego a name and an identity. u can even go as far as to visualize ur alter ego, anchor them with symbols, and practicing embodying them. some examples of people who used the alter ego concept include beyonce with sasha fierce, and kobe bryants black mamba.

[bluebeary-jay]

clouded judgment / clear mind

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: it was a long time since Joel had felt a maddening rage like this, but he weren't about to let anyone who dares to hurt you get away with it (based on this ask)

Tags: Joel goes apeshit, angst, a bit of comfort at the end, established relationship, protective Joel (REALLY protective lmao), basically he goes feral

Warnings: uh. VERY graphic descriptions of violence (I'm not good at writing action sequences but it is graphic), swearing, kinda torturing 😬

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: this one was really challenging, but i hope yall will like what i came up with :) i really didn't expect it to be so difficult to write buuut i tried to focus on the "giving-his-brother-nightmares" side of Joel and i think i succeeded. anyway !!! happy reading ❤️

He should have never left you alone.

Which was a ridiculous thought, of course, because how are you supposed to patrol efficiently if the other person refuses to leave your side even for a moment? Besides, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you – he saw multiple times what you were capable of first-hand and he knew you were able to take care of yourself.

He put it forward once – to not split up and patrol the same area within the eyeshot of each other. You sent him a crooked smile at that, saying something about him being a little too overprotective before you gave him a kiss and went on your merry way, leaving him alone and slightly annoyed (but with a faint, stupid grin on his face).

So he tried to rein in this ‘overprotectiveness’ you mentioned. He never brought it up again, even though a cold shiver ran up his spine every time he lost sight of you beyond the safe walls of Jackson. Each time you two went on a patrol, he had to take a second to calm down and remind himself this is not one of his dreams when he loses you.

That’s why at first, when he heard your voice screaming his name from a distance, he wasn’t sure if it was really happening.

The instinct, however, kicked in the next second and he rushed back to where he saw you last, to the interior of a resort around which he was scouting. This was supposed to be one of the safest options for patrolling – no one ever saw any signs of life here besides occasional infected, and Joel was never that worried when you went inside alone to check the place.

He had a feeling his cautious (he really didn’t want to call it ‘overprotective’) nature was gonna become a nuisance again after this incident.

The goddamn downpour outside made listening for any noises aggravatingly difficult. Joel yelled for you, but he didn’t hear any answer and the driving rain beating against the windows of the resort absorbed all the sounds.

He made his way inside the building and up the stairs when he noticed your hat lying discarded against the wall. A wave of ice-cold dread washed over him. The stairway was dark but even with the little light he had he could see a couple of wet, almost black droplets on the dirty floor.

What he felt next reminded him of falling asleep – his shoulders relaxed and from head to toe a cool, silent equilibrium crept over him. Joel gripped his rifle firmly and pushed on soundlessly. It didn’t seem like you were stabbed or shot – there would be much more blood present – but you were hurt. Someone must’ve laid in wait to ambush you, and now…

It didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they made a grave mistake.

Joel reached the second floor, listening intently for any clues as to where you might be or how many people are in the building with him, but he didn’t even have to check the rooms one by one. A faint light, which couldn't have been left by the previous patrol, was spilling out from underneath the doors at the far end of the corridor . He did consider the possibility that it was a decoy and your attacker was hiding in one of the other rooms, but the closer he got to the sliver of light on the dusty floor, and the more doors he passed, it became clear that whoever got you, they weren’t that cunning.

And then he heard it. A sound of a blow from the other side of the door, and then a strangled cry.

It was you. Your voice.

Joel took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and kicked the door open, bursting into the room with his rifle held high – only to find himself surrounded by six men, five of whom were holding him at gunpoint.

The sixth one, a ragged-looking blond, stood over you and the second he saw Joel, he grabbed you by the hair and pressed a knife against your neck, making both you and Joel freeze.

“You’re from this town nearby, right?” asked the man with a heavy accent Joel couldn’t place. “The one that fucking shoots off any newcomers.”

Joel didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at this man. All he could see was your bruised and battered face and the blood running freely from your – probably broken – nose and down your chin. You had a black eye and a split brow, but your gaze was sharp and alert when you looked back at him.

He felt like his insides were boiling.

“Hey, dickhead!” the leader of the group yelled, gripping your hair tighter and making you hiss in pain. “You deaf or something?”

Joel finally managed to take his eyes off you – your blood and your bruises, and the concealed fear on your face – and glared at the man standing over you. His jaw was clenched and nostrils flaring, but he quickly collected himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him when you were in danger.

He lifted his hands slowly, showing that he was no threat to them. The thug tilted his head at one of his friends.

“Put down your gun and slide it over.”

Joel watched you following his movements with your eyes as he carefully put his rifle down and kicked it in the direction of one of the men. The blond holding the knife nodded twice.

“Now. You two are from the town, aren’tcha?”

“Let her go,” said Joel, trying to remain calm and not use – quoting Ellie – his ‘asshole voice’. “Then we’ll talk.”

The man shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, no, no.” He pressed the blade harder against your throat. “We have the upper hand here. You understand?”

The man was looking at him expectantly but Joel’s eyes were nailed on the trickle of blood now running down the column of your neck. He remembered kissing that same neck this morning and tickling it with his nose, and the thought of this fucking bastard cutting your soft skin and leaving such a mark on it made him feel like he was about to burst.

“Fine,” he ground out with his jaw set. He looked over at the leader of the group. “What do you want?”

Had any of them been smarter, they would have picked up a dangerous note in his voice. But just like he suspected, they weren’t that bright.

“You go back to your town and bring five more horses here,” said the blond.  “And ammo. My buddy here,” he used his chin to point at another guy, standing behind Joel, “will tell you what kind. You try anything or come back with someone else, and I’ll slit her throat right open.”

“She will go get that shit for you and I will stay,” Joel negotiated strongly, but the leader of the group shook his head again.

“No. No way. You go and bring back everything we ask for, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Joel’s eyes once again shifted to your form and something inside his chest twitched. You noticed it – of course you did, you were always able to read him like no one else – and tried to offer him a half smile.

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassured him. “Nothing I haven’t–”

“Shut your trap!” The shorter man standing to your right yelled and raised his hand, making you flinch.

Joel could almost feel fire burning in his veins and through his skin, peeling it off his bones.

“Hey! There’s no need for that!” he said louder, taking a step forward, but the gang lifted their guns higher. He stopped and spread his arms wider. “I’ll get you the stuff you want. Just leave her alone.”

“You better hurry, then,” said the blond with a nasty smile, and Joel nodded while trying not to look too desperate. He looked at his friend. “Tell him what we need.”

Joel didn’t give a shit what they were saying – it was him who needed to think of something, and fast. He had a suspicion as to who these men were – he heard from Tommy about a larger group trying to gain entry to Jackson several times. Apparently they threatened the patrol which found them when they were denied permission to join their community. It was before Joel came to the small town for the first time with you and Ellie, but the word around was that any rogue group around this terrains wasn’t to be trusted.

And everything from the description Tommy gave him fit: ragged looks, traveling on foot, low on ammunition.

While one of the men listed what kind of guns they had and how much supplies they wanted, a motion in Joel’s field of vision caught his attention and his eyes darted to you – or more specifically, to your left hand.

You stared right back at him, moving your fingers slightly so the others didn’t notice.

N… O… A… M…

No ammo.

None? That’s probably why the one standing next to you wasn’t holding you at gunpoint but with a knife to the throat. The rest of them must’ve had their pistols drawn just for show. Joel had no idea how you figured it out, but a thought struck him and he surveyed the members of the group. He remembered which one held onto his rifle, but you were armed, too…

As if reading his mind, your fingers started to twitch again the second he looked back at you.

U... Left… B, E, H, I…

Suddenly the man to your right bowed over you again and punched you square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled with contempt and glared back at Joel. “No funny games, you hear me? You come back with a gun or anyone else, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill her, man.”

Joel’s heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see was your face contorted in pain, all he could hear were your coughs and grunts.

Two of the men came forward – the one on his left had a loaded gun from what you managed to convey to him in sign language – and pushed him towards the exit. Joel shifted his icy stare at the man standing next to him, and then at the two situated near you.

They were all going to die.

When he gets back, he’s going to kill every one last of them, and he’s going to enjoy it immensely.

Joel sent you one last look before turning around and slowly walking out of the room with both men close behind, pointing their guns (and only one of them loaded) at him.

It was going to be alright. He had a stirring of a plan and when he comes back, maybe with Tommy or someone else…

You gasped and coughed again behind his back after the sound of another punch.

Joel came to a dead stop, not registering the gun barrel digging into his back, and he felt like his jaw was going to snap if he kept clenching it like that.

You murmured something he didn’t quite catch and Joel turned his head slightly just in time to see the short man kicking you in the ribs and your form lying on the wooden floor, spitting out blood…

“You think you’re so clever, huh? I swear to fucking god, if you pull something like that again…”

Joel didn’t even let the man finish.

In a split second he elbowed the man behind him, grabbing his hand holding the gun – the one they took from you – and shooting the blond standing over you. He fell backwards and the knife fell out of his grip. Taking out the guy Joel grappled with was embarrassingly easy, and once he had a good grip on the pistol belonging to you, he spun around to face the other thug with his gun, standing on the opposite side of the room.

The ragged man fired at him, but Joel didn’t even need to duck, for the bullet missed him by half a meter at least. The man was lying dead soon after, shot twice in the head, and the remaining three took out their weapons, ready for a fight.

None of them reached for Joel’s rifle, lying under their friend’s corpse.

“That’s even better,” he murmured to himself, unloading the gun and throwing it against the far wall.

If looks could kill, they’d already be lying on the ground and writhing in agony. But Joel was more than happy to do it himself. And with his bare hands.

He strode with confidence to the nearest man who swung a machete at him. Joel avoided the attack and pushed him back, quickly darting to the side and decking the other man coming at him.

A sharp pain ripped through his body from the back of his arm when the third thug cut through his clothes. Joel blocked the second strike and twisted the opponent's arm, applying so much pressure that the bone in the forearm snapped and the man’s scream pierced the air.

He lurched back to dodge the machete aimed at his neck and picked up a knife dropped by the previous guy. He surged forward, driving the blade into the thigh of his current attacker, which made the other man lose his balance. Their friend, the last one still unharmed, managed to punch Joel’s jaw, making something crack and reverberate inside his skull, but he only wiped the blood from his face.

When the last thug came closer, Joel used his own momentum and grabbed the back of his skull, bringing the guy's face down onto his own knee. After that his movements were practically automatic when he grabbed the dazed man from behind and broke his neck in a swift motion.

Breathing heavily, he made his way to the first man he knocked out and took your gun from, picking up the machete en route. That son of a bitch wasn’t even conscious, but it didn’t stop Joel from bringing the weapon down and through his head.

The next one was the bastard with the broken arm, but his screams quickly died away when he, too, received a deep and lethal wound from Joel – this time aimed at his chest, almost cutting it open.

Your yelp ripped through the roar of blood in his ears and Joel turned around just in time to see the blond he shot in the shoulder sitting on top of you, trying to stab you with his knife. You managed to dodge it and before that idiot could try again, Joel came up to you both, grabbed the man’s hair and all but threw him off of you and onto the floor.

The blond was still holding the weapon in his hand, but didn’t get another chance to use it – with all his strength Joel brought the heel of his heavy boot down on the injured man's fingers. The man screamed when the satisfying crunch of the bones in his hand breaking echoed throughout the room and Joel couldn't hide a smirk.

He deserved it. All of them deserved it.

He again saw before his eyes the way this motherfucker kicked you and how his friend threatened to cut your throat. Again he saw red.

“You piece of shit,” Joel whispered, still blinded by rage, and gave the man a taste of his own medicine by kicking him in the stomach as hard as he could. The bastard coughed and yelled in pain but it wasn’t enough.

Joel’s focus was sharp and clear when he stood over the battered and bleeding man, staring down at him with hatred. He thought the blond tried to say something – his lips were certainly moving – but he didn’t concern himself with any begging or threats the thug had to offer. Instead he gripped the front of his sweater and punched him in the jaw, letting the limp body fall to the floor and relishing in the sounds of his curses, his grunts of pain, his blood dripping onto the floor…

Not enough.

Joel did that several more times – grabbing the idiot’s clothes, hair, whatever – to pull him up and hit him in the jaw, temple, nose and wherever else his fist landed. The face of the man was bloodied and he was barely conscious at this point and still all Joel could see was the look of sadistic glee on this man's face after finding an excuse to hurt you.

Joel didn’t have much strength anymore, but he ignored the biting pain from the cut on his arm and the raw wounds on his bloody knuckles, and straddled the lying man. The survival instinct must've kicked in and the blond started to tussle, reaching with his not-broken fingers to Joel’s face, scratching his brow and cheek.

And just like the glee he saw in the thug’s eyes earlier, Joel was more than happy that he gave him an excuse – and an idea – how to hurt him more.

“I saw how you looked at her,” he said in a low tone to the unlucky man, holding his left arm in place with his knee and pressing his own thumb to that fucker's swollen eye. “You like hearin’ people screamin’ in pain? Because I just know this is going to bring me great joy.”

Blood was flowing from under Joel’s finger and down his hand when he gouged the blond’s eye out and the man was shrieking. He was writhing and struggling under Joel's weight, and his voice became guttural and hoarse soon after when the dark blood started to flood his mouth. Joel pulled his hand away, panting heavily, and soaked in the suffering of that bastard whose face now resembled a smashed, bloody goo.

Not enough.

It was unfortunate that the blond was the only one left Joel could take it out on, but he couldn’t find any compassion in himself at the moment. So he punched him again, staining the floor with the scumbug's blood.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Joel.”

Joel turned around sharply, grasping the thug’s knife. He could still feel rage churning inside of him and he was breathing heavily, trying to contain the fury filling him without screaming out loud. His hands were covered in blood – not his – and he subconsciously knew that the man lying motionlessly under him was long since dead, his face completely destroyed, but he wished that son of a bitch was still alive so that he could feel the suffering Joel longed to inflict upon him.

Everything because he hurt you.

You…

The ringing in his ears stopped suddenly and the knife fell out of his hand when he ran up to where you were still lying on the floor. You were curled up on your side with your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and your face twisted in pain.

Joel’s breathing got quicker, now for an entirely different reason, when he noticed that the cut on your neck was bigger than he originally thought, and still bleeding. Your face was bruised and he knew your whole torso will probably turn green and purple soon, too.

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispered tenderly, his trembling hands hovering above your body, but not touching it. “It’s…” It’s alright, he wanted to say. Or maybe, where does it hurt the most?

He had trouble finding his voice, though. In his fury he completely forgot that you were still here and in need of his help.

You took a deep breath and turned your head ever so slightly to look at him in the corner of your eye. A sad smile appeared on your face.

“Hi, Joel.”

Joel breathed in. Out. In again.

For fuck’s sake, what was he thinking?

He quickly wiped the blood of the people he killed on his pants and cursed at himself mentally.

“Hi, darlin’,” he murmured in response, focusing back on you. “You’re gonna be alright. How are you feeling?”

“I think I might have a broken rib or two,” you breathed while Joel pulled out a clean piece of cloth he carried in his jacket for cases like this one and pressed it against the cut on the side of your neck. You winced and he felt a pang of pain in his own chest.

“Can I check?”

You let go of your stomach with a strangled gasp. Joel started to gently feel your torso, trying to discern if he could feel any broken bones or signs of internal bleeding. He kept his touch as delicate as he could, not wanting to hurt you even more, or worse – scare you.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though, no matter how much he tried to calm his breathing. He wished he could hold you as securely as he held his gun, with a quiet heart and sharp focus, but the fear of accidentally hurting you made his fingertips recoil at times.

Although you two knew each other for years now, you were never a witness to this cruel side of him. You knew about it, of course, of horrible things he’s done before he got to Boston and met you. A couple of times you even saw with your own eyes snippets of these primary emotions of fear or anger overtaking Joel’s mind and body.

But never like that. Never with such ferocity, hatred and satisfaction from hurting those who did the same to you.

He just really didn’t want you to be afraid of him. You were so precious to him and often he thought those brutal hands of his, which he knew were guilty of inflicting unimaginable pain and suffering, weren't worthy of touching someone who in his eyes was so delicate and pure.

But it never stopped you from seeking his touch, and although Joel could be stubborn and tough at times, he didn’t have it in himself to ever refuse you anything – even when he knew better.

That was always the case. His judgment and mind were clouded when it came to you.

“I don’t think anythin’ is broken,” he finally said in a quiet voice, cupping your cheek gingerly and turning your head to look at it better. “But the nose probably is. How did it happen?”

“They jumped out on me in the hallway,” you answered, not meeting his eyes while he gently touched the base of your nose. Then you looked to the window against which the still pouring rain was beating. “One of them punched me when I shouted for you. I thought you might have not heard me.”

“I heard you,” he murmured and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You came for me pretty quickly, so–”

“Not that. M’sorry you had to see… this.”

To that, you didn't say anything. Joel felt his heart clenching on itself and almost stopping from the wave of terror that washed over him.

His treacherous mind was rushing him to defend his actions or make excuses – because if he doesn’t, if it turns out you’re scared of him and the things he’s capable of…

You might leave him. And if you leave, Joel won’t survive that.

But he didn’t give in to those cruel thoughts and silenced the voice in his head.

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly, making you lift your head. “In a heartbeat. I’m really sorry you had to see that, darlin’, but I… just know I’d never hurt you. And if I can help it, no one else will either.”

“Hey.” Your knuckles brushed his cheek and you looked at him with sad eyes. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you did it to protect me.”

“I wanted them to suffer,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, but at the same time he soaked in the feeling of your soft touch on his face. “I don’t know how much you saw–”

“Joel.” You sat up with a wince after interrupting him, and your gaze turned sharp. “Why are you telling me this?”

Even though the bloody, battered mess that he made of the blond man seemed to push itself into Joel’s field of vision, he refused to look away from you.

“‘Cause you need to know. I feel like I’d be lyin’ to you if I didn’t explain that it wasn’t an accident or a one-time thing,” he answered, his eyes flickering from your neck to your face, and down to his own stained hands. “Couldn’t think of anythin’ else after I saw you like that, on the ground and…”

“Listen to me.” You took his head firmly in your hands and your gaze was unwavering – like you wanted to make sure that your every word will reach the depths of his soul. “I’ll say it again: you don’t need to explain. I get why you did that. And don’t even think you’re gonna drive me away because of that.”

You knew him too well. Sometimes it was slightly annoying, sometimes even scary.

This time, however, it felt reassuring.

You looked to the side where the body of his last victim lay, and Joel grimaced, gently touching the edge of your jaw and tilting it back to him. “Don’t look,” he whispered, realizing with surprise, as well as a horrible lump in his throat, that he felt almost ashamed.

Your bright eyes met his again and he briefly wondered if your gaze always was so scrutinizing.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said sternly, like always knowing what was going on in his head. “I'm not, so stop thinking that.” You shook him by the arm a little and when he didn’t answer, the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a teasing manner. “I’ve seen you multiple times in the morning. I know you’re secretly a big softie.”

Joel really didn’t deserve this kind of kindness and understanding from you. That didn’t stop him from craving it, though.

He didn't say anything – just leaned in and kissed your cheek tenderly, lingering there for a moment but paying attention not to brush your nose. You exhaled and closed your eyes, your eyelashes tickling his skin, and he decided not to drag this conversation on any longer.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart. I’ll help you up.”

He stood up and held out his hand. It was rough and covered in blood, but even after you saw what he did to those men and heard their screams, you didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Joel,” you said gravely after standing up. There was no trace of your previous smile on your face. “If you were the one in danger, I’d do the same thing.”

You were looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer, and after a couple of seconds he nodded slightly. Apparently it was good enough for you, because you just squeezed his hand and tugged him after you and out of the room.

Joel didn’t know if he believed you.

But your words made him feel calmer and cleared his clouded mind nonetheless.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 10)

summary: with your trainer's help this last week, you slowly find your way back to yourself again... and you finally have the courage to tell hugh more details about your relationship with jack and it only makes him angrier. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: angst - mentions of toxic relationship, verbal / physical abuse (not with hugh!). implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 2.4k a/n: anyway, we're getting into the reader's backstory with jack, so it's going to be a bit dark... and consider this the first argument between reader and hugh... gonna be a tough next couple of chapters, but trust me when i say there will be a happy ending at the end of all of this! as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part. - next part.

You’d taken today off to drop your trainer off at the airport. This last week had gone too fast and while it was emotionally and mentally exhausting, it was just what you needed to remind yourself just how far you’d come. There’s still something lingering in the pit of your stomach, the anxiety that you’ll need to have a conversation with Hugh about everything that’s happened with you and Jack. He knows bits and pieces that you’ve shared before, but he doesn’t know the full picture. 

“You gonna be okay?” she asks. 

“I think so,” you nod. “I can’t let Jack run my life anymore.”

Your trainer pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “You’re a good person,” she whispers. “And you never should have gone through what you did. He should have never put you through that.” 

You can feel tears stinging your eyes as you wrap your arms around her as well. She had been a godsend and so important in your journey in finding yourself again. She empowered you, motivated you, and helped you see just how worthy you are. 

When she pulls away, she smiles in your direction. “Hugh loves you,” she points out. “Allow yourself to be loved because you’re worthy of it. You’re enough.” 

You nod, wiping any fallen tears from your cheeks. “I just don’t want to disappoint him… What if he realizes that I’m not what he thought I’d be, that maybe all the pain I’m still working through isn’t worth it?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?”  

You share your head. 

“Well, that man looks at you like you can do no wrong. Like you’re the only person that matters. Trust me, you are worth it.” 

“Part of me is also nervous… To talk to Hugh and tell him everything. He knows bits and pieces, but…”

“He’ll understand,” she replies. 

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” 

You sigh and then pull her in for another hug. “Thank you for coming here, for being there for me. Again.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh and gives you a tight squeeze before she pulls away. “If Hugh wants to invite me back, let me know. I’d be happy to visit again,” she winks. 

“I’ll let him know. Get home safe.” 

“Remember how far you’ve come, okay?” she says. “And if Jack crosses any lines, it might be time to get the authorities involved.”

You nod in agreement. “I know… I just don’t want it to get to that point.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” 

—

Later that night, you’re sitting out on the balcony of the hotel room with a notebook on your lap. You had tried to write some talking points to go over when Hugh gets home. You know he’s going to be tired, but you know that if you don’t have this conversation with him, you may never will. 

You know he’s on his way back to the hotel and your heart races faster and faster. You can feel the anxiety course through your veins and even with the notes you had written down, you still don’t feel all that confident. It’s not the fact that you have to tell Hugh what happened, but it’s the fact that you’d have to relive everything that Jack had put you through. 

When you hear the hotel room door open, you stand up and turn to look over your shoulder and make eye contact with Hugh. He looks tired, but at the sight of you, his eyes light up and a broad smile lines his lips. This must be what your trainer was referring to… about the way he looks at you. It eases your nerves, calms you down and keeps you grounded because with Hugh, you have always felt safe. 

He steps out into the balcony with you and pulls you into his arms, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hi, baby. Missed you on set today.” 

You smile to yourself and shut your notebook, setting it on the chair you were sitting on and away from his line of view. “I missed you too.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands playing with the hair at his nape. “How was filming?”

“It was good. Movie’s coming along.” Hugh holds you closer to him, eyes falling shut as he holds you in his arms. This was what he was looking forward to all day. Being with you. He knows that this last week had helped a great deal, having your personal trainer here had helped immensely. You weren’t so much on edge anymore and it felt like things were going back to normal. Before Jack entered the picture. “And how was your day? You get home safe after dropping her off?” 

“Oh yeah,” you nod. “It was nice having her here. Thank you for doing that, baby. You really didn’t need to and–”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But I wanted to. I knew she would help… in ways that I couldn’t.” 

“I love you,” you smile. “I’m really lucky.” 

“I love you too, baby.” He pecks your lips and then slowly pulls away. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and maybe we can order in for dinner?” 

“Wait, Hugh…” 

“Yeah?”

“After your shower, can we talk?” 

Hugh’s brow furrows, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands move to rest on your hips. “What about?” 

“Just…” you bite your lower lip. “It’s nothing bad. I just–” 

Hugh tilts his head to the side. He can sense your worry, your anxiety, so he just nods and leans in to peck your lips lightly. “Okay, baby. We’ll talk after my shower.” As he turns to walk back into the room, you reach out for him and pull him back into a tight hug. Your face buries into his chest, arms tightening around his frame as you hold onto him for a few seconds longer. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispers. 

“I will be.” 

—

Hugh’s shower doesn’t last that long. He tries not to overthink about what you wanted to talk about, but he can’t help the tug he feels in the pit of his stomach. Now he’s worried, he’s concerned. He quickly changes into a pair of black sweatpants and a Global Citizen t-shirt. He dries his damp hair with a towel and steps back out into the room, seeing you still outside on the balcony. You’re writing in your notebook again and he knows that you only write when you have something on your mind, something that you can’t shake. 

Quietly, he steps out with you and smiles in your direction. Hugh watches you close your notebook, setting it on the small table. He doesn’t let you get up, instead, he scoops you into his arms and then sits in the same chair with you on his lap. 

“Okay, let’s talk, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he drapes an arm over your legs. Hugh tries not to make it seem like he’s nervous and he isn’t even sure if you take notice because he can see that your mind has drifted, and can feel the tension in your shoulder blades. 

“Jack–”

“What?” 

You take a deep breath and move an arm around his shoulders. “I need to tell you about– about Jack.”

“Baby, you don’t have to–”

“I need to, Hugh.” 

He can see the tears in your eyes and a piece of his heart breaks at the sight. Hugh cups your cheek and gently brushes his thumb across your skin, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

You nod and bite your lower lip. “So, we were together for three years…” 

“That I knew.” 

“The– The abuse, the manipulation, everything happened so fast. I didn’t even realize what was happening until I realized it was too late.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw. He feels anger bubbling within him, but he opts to remain quiet, to keep a neutral look on his face. He knows that you need this, that you need to tell him and he can’t react because he fears that if he does, you’re going to pull away and he knows how important this is that you’re telling him. 

“I had gotten used to his insults… so much so that I started to believe him.” you’re about to get off his lap, about to pull away from him, but he keeps a firm hold on you. When you look into his eyes, all you can see is the concern in his features and the subtle desire to take your pain away. 

“Oh baby…” Hugh whispers quietly. 

“I’m weak and I’m not brave,” you continue. “And that’s because of Jack. I should have left at the first sign of his verbal abuse, but I always–” you can feel your breath catch in your throat. “I always justified his actions. Always felt like it was my fault, that he was acting the way he was and saying the things he’d say because of me. Because I was making things difficult for him.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw when you look away from him, the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“And I believed him. I thought– I thought I could give all of my love to him and he’d see how much I cared for him, how much I was willing to do anything for him. Because I did,” you say with a disappointed tone. “I did love him and when he broke up with me – he broke up with me –” you shake your head. “It was my fault. It was always my fault. Mine.” 

“Baby, no…” Hugh shakes his head and cups your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours. 

“I couldn’t even break up with him, Hugh. All of the nasty things he’s said to me and I couldn’t–” you shake your head and stand up from his lap before he can pull you back. “I was heartbroken when Jack broke up with me because he made me believe that no one would ever love me… that I wasn’t worthy of love and I fucking believed him.”

Hugh’s foot taps against the floor incessantly. He wants to reach out for you, but he always wants to find Jack and cause him just the same amount of pain – if not more. But then, he hears the words leave your lips and he jumps up from his chair. 

“He hit me once.”

“What?” 

“Hugh…”

“No no, he what?” 

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You can see the anger clear in his features and you gently reach out for him, but he just shakes his head. He’s fuming, hands shaking at his sides at your admission. You know this was going to happen, had even expected this reaction, but seeing it firsthand is entirely different. You don’t know how you can even calm him down. 

“I got angry because he had made me make him dinner after a long fucking day at work and–” you sigh. “After that, I learned how to fight because I knew that if he put his hands on me again, I’d fight back and–” 

“Wait, he hit you? Put his hands on you?”

“Hugh…”

“No, baby.” Tears are now pooling at his eyes. “He doesn’t get to do that, do you hear me? He has no fucking right–”

“Hugh!” you raise your voice, staring up at him. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry. I’m telling you this so you can understand why he had so much control over me, why I reacted the way I did when I saw him that one night at dinner, why it’s so fucking hard for me to see how worthy I am of this, of you.” 

Hugh shakes his head. He’s trying – truly, he’s trying so fucking hard to understand (and there’s a big part of him that does), but all he can see is this man putting his hands on you, putting thoughts and words into your mind that aren’t true. 

“Give me his number. The number he called you from a couple of weeks ago,” Hugh says. 

“No.”

“Baby, he can’t just get away with thinking that what he did to you was okay. He can’t get away with still making you feel the way that you do.”

“What are you going to do? Go and beat him up?” you ask, shaking your head. “Hugh, you’d get arrested! It’d be all over the media and–”

“I don’t care!” Hugh yells – it’s the first time that he’s ever raised his voice at you and when he sees you take a step back, it brings him back to reality. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just– I can’t fathom this man walking around thinking like he did no wrong, baby.” 

“Nothing you do will help him see that, Hugh.”

“No? Well he hasn’t dealt with someone like me and–”

“Just stop!” 

Hugh furrows a brow. “Baby–”

“No, Hugh…” you cross your arms over your chest, wanting so badly to just get away from this all, away from Jack, away from Hugh. “I don’t need you to save me… I don’t need you to go back to my past and make things better. I just need you to understand the shit I went through is what made me who I am today. And I’m still healing… I’m still working on it, and I just–” your breath catches in your throat once more. “You’ve been so patient with me, so understanding that I figured I’d at least tell you everything because… because I will have moments where it’ll be hard for me to snap out of it.”

“I know, and I appreciate you telling me all of this, baby–” Hugh sighs. “But I can’t just sit here and not do anything about it.”

“You know what,” you tell him, opening the sliding door to walk back into the hotel room. “I’m gonna go for a walk. I can’t be here right now. This wasn’t how I thought this conversation would go.”

“Baby, no–” Hugh walks after you, watching you pull on a jacket and slip on your shoes as you grab your bag. “Please, just stay. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell him quietly. “I just need some space right now.”

“I love you,” Hugh whispers. 

“I know,” you reply, grabbing the hotel key card and setting it in your bag. “I love you too, Hugh, but I just need to be alone right now. We both need to calm down before we say something we’re both going to regret.” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond because just as his mouth opens to say something, you’re already out the door. 

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

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@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

[daisymbin]

second chance romance 12. "every song reminds me of you."

woozi gets writers block after his breakup with y/n and realizes how much color and life had when they were still together. he would do anything to get back together 🥺

why does this already sound so heartwrenching :(( thank you for requesting this, lovely!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // jihoon's m.list

second chance prompt #12: "every song reminds me of you."

jihoon had spent weeks staring at his keyboard, fingers hovering but never pressing. the notes he usually heard in his mind came in fragments—disconnected and hollow. every song he tried to write felt incomplete, as if missing the heart it used to have. as if missing you.

he sat in his studio late at night, frustration burning in his chest. “why can’t i just—” his voice cracked, and he slammed his hand against the desk.

the memory of your laugh, your voice humming along with his music, filled his mind. he swallowed hard. you had been his muse without him realizing.

“why didn’t i fight for you?” he muttered under his breath.

a knock at his studio door startled him.

“you’re still here,” seungcheol said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“don’t start,” jihoon warned, leaning back in his chair.

“i wasn’t going to. i was just wondering how long you were planning to torture yourself.”

jihoon glared at him, but seungcheol didn’t flinch.

“you should talk to her,” seungcheol continued, arms crossed. “you’ve been miserable since the breakup, and it’s obvious she’s the reason you can’t write.”

“it’s not that simple,” jihoon snapped. “i hurt her, cheol. you don’t just come back from that.”

“it doesnt have to be this hard either. you don’t know unless you try. you always overthink, but this—this is different. just go. tell her how you feel.”

“and if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“then at least you’ll know you tried.”

jihoon clenched his jaw, his heart pounding as he weighed the possibility of facing you again. seungcheol’s words echoed in his mind long after his friend left, and eventually, he found himself standing outside your door.

the door creaked open, and your face appeared in the gap, your expression soft but full of unspoken emotion.

“hoonie jihoon?” you said his name like you couldn’t believe it, like you thought you might be dreaming.

his breath caught. “hi.” his voice was barely audible. “i… i know it’s late. i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to see me, but—” he faltered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice quiet, tinged with sadness.

“i don’t know how to say this,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “but i couldn’t stay away anymore. i needed to see you.”

your lips parted, your eyes scanning his face for answers. “jihoon… it’s been months—”

“i can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice breaking. “every song reminds me of you. every melody, every lyric… it’s all you.”

your lips trembled, tears forming in your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. “you can’t just show up like this after all this time. do you know how hard it’s been for me?”

“i know,” he said quickly, his own voice thick with emotion. “i know I don’t deserve another chance. i know i hurt you more than i can ever apologize for. but i’m a mess without you. i can’t write. i can’t think. everything in my life feels empty because you’re not there.”

you looked away, tears slipping down your cheeks. “why did you leave me, jihoon? you didn’t even fight for us.”

“i was scared,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “of how much you meant to me. of how much losing you would hurt. but i didn’t realize that losing you anyway would destroy me.”

you let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped your face. “i don’t know if i can trust you again. you broke my heart.”

“i know,” he whispered, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. “but i’ll spend the rest of my life fix it if you let me. i’ll prove to you every single day how much you mean to me. just… give me a chance.”

you stared at him, his words sinking in, the raw desperation in his voice breaking down the walls you had built around your heart. he took a deep breath, his eyes glistening. “i don’t want to live without you anymore.

your tears fell freely now, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. after a long moment, you nodded, the smallest movement, but it was enough.

jihoon’s shoulders sagged in relief, his eyes filling with tears. “thank you,” he whispered.

you stepped back to let him in, and as he crossed the threshold, he hesitated.

“i mean it,” he said, his voice trembling but steady. “i’ll spend every day showing you how much i love you. i won’t mess this up again.”

as you closed the door behind him, the weight of the past began to lift. it wouldn’t be easy, but in that moment, with jihoon standing in your home again, you felt the first flicker of hope.

and for jihoon, the music in his heart finally began to return.

[kissohee]

losing ur virginity with riize members ot7 riize x fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : N/A ☆ mdni! warnings; mention of corruption kink?

shotaro ☆ losing your virginity is such a huge thing, and shotaro is always very happy that you want to lose it to him. however, he needs you to be sure you want him to take it for weeks before he actually does. just in case you were only feeling that way at that time, and he only wants to do it when he knows you are 100% ready. eunseok ☆ since it's your first time, whatever happens is up to you. if you want to ride him, you can. if you want him to be in control, he can do that! he doesn't really care about how he feels in the moment, and is more focused on you. he might have to remind himself that it's your first time quit a lot because he'll go overboard without realizing. lots of aftercare after though, he'll do anything for you. sungchan ☆ he's very excited but he pretends to be very calm about it. just the thought that he'd be taking your virginity had him hard before it even happened, which made him realize he had a corruption kink he had no idea about. but it doesn't show when it happens! he's actually very soft, looks can be deceiving. wonbin ☆ unlike sungchan, he is very calm about it inside. last thing he'd want to do is freak you out, and he never cared about virginity that much anyways. but nonetheless he's very thankful you trust him enough to lose yours with him. he'll hold your hand a lot during, and he'll constantly be kissing you. seunghan ☆ will prepare a dinner date beforehand. losing your virginity is a one time thing, and if it's not perfect, he would beat himself up over it. im talking rose petals, candles, soft music. he even changed all the bedsheets just to make sure the experience is amazing for you. and it is, he's very soft and he'll take it extra slow. just for you. sohee ☆ all you have to do is say the words "i want you to take my virginity" and he's practically jumping from happiness. we know he's extremely horny so he's been looking foward for this day to come. definitely less prepared, but that's what makes it more natural. he makes so many noises and he can barely stay still during, it makes you wonder if you're the one losing your virginity. anton ☆ anton truly believes that when the time comes, it comes. he's never seeking it out and he let's life do it's thing. when you're ready, of course you tell him and he makes sure to walk you through every step. it's very lighthearted, you guys might even laugh a bit if he's too big for you (which he is, lets be real).

ill probably write a "riize losing their virginity with you" ver later - 🐠

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS AND THINGS THEY

LOVE ABOUT YOU

including mclaren, ferrari, mercedes + verstappen, ricciardo & gasly

warning : mention of imperfections and insecurities

note : can't wait for the new f1 season because my sundays are so boring

!! english is not my first language !!

ᦈ OSCAR PIASTRI 81

you free up time only for him. you're always busy with your essays and assignments which means you don't have much time to spend with your boyfriend. but still you always manage to free up some time just fort him. and he loves that, he feels confident knowing that he is the only one who is so special to you. of course he won't waste a single second of your time together, because he couldn't ask for anything better than spending time with his favorite girl in the world.

ᦈ LANDO NORRIS 4

your cuddles. i swear this boy will cuddle you every chance he gets. he loves how your two bodies fit perfectly together in the arms of each other. he'll grab your waist and lay you on the bed, his body on top of you. he'll hold you tight and bury his face in the crook of your neck. you play with his curly hair, your hand gently stroking his back. he places some soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. and he delights in your warm embrace, which provides him so much comfort. like he's home.

ᦈ CHARLES LECLERC 16

the way you show to the whole world that he belongs to you. it's often subtle but you always try to give everyone a hint about your relationship with charles. to make sure the world knows he's yours. because he secretly loves when you do that. he genuinely feels loved and he loves thinking about the fact that there is only him in your heart.whether it's a matching jewelry or the faint trace of your lipstick on his cheek, he cherishes those little clues that show the world your deep love.

ᦈ CARLOS SAINZ 55

your eyes softening when you look at him. he notices it, the way you gaze at him, how you stare at him. but he has observed the way your eyes always soften when you look at him. some sparkles in them as you admire the love of your life. and he can't help but get lost in the beauty of your pupils. he stares into your eyes until he finds all the love you hide behind them. he feels special, and he always ends up flustered as his cheeks and face become all red. he turns into a blushing mess under your loving gaze.

ᦈ LEWIS HAMILTON 44

your imperfections and insecurities. gosh how much he loves your insecurities. lewis knows you don't like certain parts of your body and you can be insecure about your flaws. but he wants to show you how beautiful you are despite your imperfections, which he obviously doesn't agree with because you're literally the most prettiest person in this world. every single day he reminds you how perfect you are, and that no matter how insecurities you have he'll always cherises them.

ᦈ GEORGE RUSSEL 63

the way you're just yourself with him. george genuinely adore when you let your true self shine when you're around him. you don't open up to people easily and you're not quite comfortable when you meet one another. but not with george. you trust him and he makes feel you so safe that's why you're not afraid to be you, and he loves so much that. it means so much more than you think, his heart overflows with love every time he is with you.

ᦈ MAX VERSTAPPEN 33

your kisses. as simple as it is, he simply loves your kisses. whether soft and sweet kisses or rougher and deeper, he loves every type of kisses. especially after a bad day or a bad race (though 2023 was a pretty good year for him anyway), a kiss from you is all he needs. it's never enough kisses for him, he always asks for one every single minutes and if he doesn't get it then you're sure he'll pout for the rest of the day. but your kisses brings so much comfort and he feels so loved every time.

ᦈ DANIEL RICCIARDO 3

your smile. how much he loves your smile it's insane. obviously you two are a perfect match. he's so funny and his sense of humor is the same as you, you two are like the funniest couple of the grid. but daniel uses his humor and jokes mostly for you, just to see your beautiful smile rises on your face. the way your eyes narrow with a few tears of laughter on the edge, the way your smile brightens up his whole day. he just needs to see your smile to feel better. and he wishes you'll never stop smiling because how you look perfect like that.

ᦈ PIERRE GASLY 10

your little habits. one thing pierre loves about you is your habits. first in the start of your relationship, he didn't really know about your behavior and your little habits. but then he started to notice them : the way you bite your lips when you're concentrated, when you put the dishes away in a specific order because otherwise it stresses you out, your usual morning routine. he finds these things absolutely cute and he even started to appropriate them too. it shows his love for you.