#but I'm tired of everything is a ship shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obscure-imagines · 1 year ago

Text

wet dreams - Zoro

🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…

🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.

Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.

He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.

While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.

He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.

Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.

Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-

Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.

You're just too beautiful.

The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.

It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.

Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.

"You look like shit."

Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.

"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"

"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.

"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.

Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."

You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.

"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.

He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.

Who is Zoro to deny you?

With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.

God, you look beautiful like this.

Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.

You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.

"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."

You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-

It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.

The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.

"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-

The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.

Again, who is Zoro to deny you?

"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."

You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.

He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.

You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.

Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.

He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-

"Dinner!"

Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.

Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.

Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.

Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.

Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.

You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.

You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-

No, this changes everything.

The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.

You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.

You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.

Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.

Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.

Zoro freezes. You both do.

Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."

He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."

"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.

"I don't act like I hate you."

"You hardly talk to me."

"I'm not a big talker."

You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."

"Go ahead."

Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."

Zoro goes rigid next to you.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."

"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."

Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."

"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."

He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."

Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"

"Yes, please."

The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."

If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"

"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."

Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"

"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"

Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."

"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.

"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."

Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-

He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.

You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.

The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-

You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.

"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.

You've been waiting too long for this, for him-

He groans. "Say that again."

One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"

"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.

"Tell me you want my fingers."

"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"

"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.

His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.

You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-

"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."

"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"

"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.

You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.

"You sound so pretty."

Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.

In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.

No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?

You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.

Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.

"Close already?"

All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"

"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."

You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-

"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.

"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."

You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.

"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.

"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.

You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.

He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.

"You still want to do this?" he asks.

"There's nothing I want more."

Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.

"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."

"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.

He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.

"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.

"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.

The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-

Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.

You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.

"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.

You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.

That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-

"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"

"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"

He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-

Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-

"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"

"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"

Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"

"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"

Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.

Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-

It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.

He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.

You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.

"You look happy," he muses.

"That's because I am. Are you happy?"

"Very."

Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"

"Completely done."

"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."

"Me neither," he admits.

"I like you a lot."

Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you liked this, check out my fics for Sanji and Mihawk :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

#zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa smut #roronoa zoro smut #opla smut #zoro opla #opla zoro #opla #one piece #one piece smut #one piece live action #zoro x reader

4K notes · View notes

sleepymccoy · 2 months ago

Text

Someone I follow is posting about Spock and McCoy after the Katra sharing, but they're posting canon thoughts and I'm all fanon so I'm making my own post lol

Post Katra headcanons!

Spock swears in Southern when he's tired. He really doesnt like this

McCoy understands a bit of Vulcan, but only when he doesn't know the person isn't speaking English. Like, if they randomly switch to Vulcan he can keep up until it's pointed out

They can feel when the other is experiencing strong emotions. They don't know what emotion, but it's like an itch or a tickle in their throat to say the other is feeling something

They know a bit of each other's specialised knowledge. McCoy is passable at astrophysics now, and Spock is an even more annoying patient since he understands the terminology

They also remember a few private moments of eachother's that they weren't present for. Both politely don't mention this, but do find confusing ways to allude to it

McCoy can cook some Vulcan dishes now. Spock developed a taste for bourbon in the evening that takes everyone by surprise

With great effort Spock can project messages to McCoy. With greater effort McCoy can give Spock a feeling that translates to fuck off

On Vulcan they're legally super duper married and Spock just doesn't mention this. McCoy notices next tax return when he's taxed like a married man, not a single man. Takes him months of asking around to figure out who the government thinks he's married to. He files for divorce without talking to Spock

Spock won't divorce him cos he did carry his Katra, but he'll agree to an annulment. McCoy about pops off with anger

Kirk buys them a wedding gift when he finds out

They don't get the annulment and neither can really put their finger on why. Something about respecting Vulcan culture, cos they'll still be married on Vulcan no matter what

McCoy gets a headache whenever Spock mind melds with someone else

McCoy can initiate a mind meld with Spock, which they both get kinda very into cos their brains feel so good paired back up again. McCoy drunkenly described it as being better than sex to Kirk and the idea of that sticks around something terrible

Their telepathic connection is stronger after a meld, so they start doing it in advance of missions so they can be in touch immediately if things go sideways

If they're apart for a long time the connection will tell them when each other is close by. They've run into each other at conferences or in hotels or once on a transport ship they didn't know the other was booking too. They find each other quickly and easily when they're nearby

This becomes an uncanny capacity to always vaguely know where the other is. McCoy is bad at remembering that he shouldn't know and will volunteer Spock's whereabouts sometimes without thinking

They get good at learning what the various nudges and hints from their connection mean. They can tell different moods apart and send messages that the other can open at their leisure, rather than breaking through and being front of mind

If one of them is injured or captive or just bored as shit they'll sometimes pop into the other's head and basically turn into the back seat driver from hell

With everything they know and learn, they're very fond of each other

#spones #spock #mccoy #katra #i choose the danger

419 notes · View notes

wubwubwubtastic · 1 month ago

Note

Heyy I saw that your requests are open hehe

What abt y/n standing up against jisappointment and curly reacting to them

Oh or after crustification curly being in our care

Or y/n finding jibortion messing with the ship before the crash and telling everyone, how the rest would react to this information?

..haven t had a fixation like curly since sally face LMAO 🧎‍♀️‍➡️🙇‍♀️

Anyway feel free to do whichever you like or none at all haha, pls and thanks

I LOVE YOU WILD PERSON!!!!

>Warnings Jimmy, just jim tbh you know what he does

[READER STANDING UP TO JIMMY]

>we all know Jimmy is an asshole, that's a given. A selfish, degrading, holier than thou guy, that will try everything to get his way.

>Sadly for Jimmy, his usual tactic of sweet conniving manipulation was something that didn't affect you as much as the others. Which made him quite unnerved, it made him feel weak. So of course he chose to pursue his passion of making your life miserable.

>You were walking down a hallway in the lower part of the Tulpar, the soft hum of the mechanical beast following you around every corner. You just wanted to go find a place to chill, you had finished all your duties and you were tired.

>Just as you are about to sit down, Jimmy finds his way to you. He approached you with a swift gait, walking with purpose. Once he finally slithered close enough next to you that's when his usual monologue started.

>Jimmy was stressed, and what better way than to beat his anger out on you! With harsh words, snide jabs and some degradation to sprinkle on! He was a master at his craft, years of weaseling his way out of trouble with slimy, honeyd words.

"I don't get how people like you can sleep well at night, I work my ass off for all of you and you just sit and mope all day-"

"it's pathetic really, you've got everyone doing eeeverything for you, can't do shit on your own, huh?"

"if I were as lucky as you I guess I'd be sitting on my ass all day as well, but I wasn't born lucky"

>His words do get to you and you just snap, at this point. It had been too long that he'd been getting away with this, letting out all your frustrations in a screaming match in between the two of you.

>Jimmy is basically covering you in spit as he yells at you, your defiance causing him great wrath. He reels back his fist, preparing to punch you. He has never been one above getting physical.

>The little verbal struggle was swiftly being mended by the captain, he had heard the commotion from the cockpit and was immensely concerned for the wellbeing of his crew.

>Curly grasped Jimmy by the shoulder, making the angry man drop his fist to his side. They exchanged a knowing, spiteful glance, one that made Curly wince in discomfort.

"Brave captain coming to the rescue, eh?"

"Jimmy i-"

"Don't bother."

>As Jimmy walks away from the situation, escaping it with no repercussions, you are left alone with Curly. He looks unsure, looking back to watch the way Jimmy left from, his blond eyebrows furrowing.

>Once he seemed at least a little bit more sure of himself, Curly turned back to face you. A soft apologetic smile gracing his features.

"I'm sorry about Jim, he can be harsh sometimes"

"It's good you stood your ground, Jimmy can get a little....ahead of himself"

>Curlys large hands gave your shoulder a little pat, meant to comfort your nerves. He flashed you a quick toothy smile, before he left to continue his duties as captain.

Hahsgshbxjsbsb this was so fun! Thank you for the request <3

#captain curly x reader #captain curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #captain curly #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy x reader

154 notes · View notes

vhswolf · 1 month ago

Text

Three | Reader X Carlos Sainz X Rebecca Donaldson

really short, I just needed to deal with this idea before I combust, but it was made with love ❤️

English is not my first language

Warnings: online bs, haters

Face claim: Anne-Marie

Imrebeccad

Imrebeccad Weekend with mine truly 🤍

View all comments

Carlossainz55 Guapas!! Liked by the author ❤️

Ynishere The 😝 duo is here!

User2 The way she puts her bestie first is iconic

User6 bros before hoes!!!!!!

User9 can we talk about how y/n looks like Rebecca and Carlos emo daughter?

→ ynishere @/carlossainz55 @/imrebeccad they're calling you both old!

→ user9 I'M NOT

→ carlossainz55 @/ynishere you're too young!

→ ynishere I'M 5 YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU THAT'S NOT MUCH

User14 Carlos comment tho 😐

ynishere

Ynishere Pretty women only 🙏🏼

View all comments

Imrebeccad I love you, pretty! ❤️😝

→ ynishere love you too, bella! 🧡😝

Carlossainz55 Hermosas de mi corazón Liked by the author & imrebeccad

User8 if I was Rebecca I would be screaming and crying with Carlos comments on yn's posts, like what does he mean BEAUTIFUL OF MY HEART? No, please kill me already

User3 literally a family

User22 the only place yn is not giving emo is the beach

→ ynishere Forgive me father for I have sin 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Landonorris Carlos in the back, thinking about how he managed to the girl

→ ynishere I also got the girl!

→ landonorris and the boy this comment was deleted by the author

Carlossainz55

Carlossainz55 Great company ❤️

View all comments

User44 nuh uh! This is weird as shit! If Carlos is not cheating, he definitely wants to!

imrebeccad My favourite company, my two favourite persons in the entire world!

User66 everyone is dressed so nice and yn is in a hoodie... How did Carlos choose to cheat on Rebecca WITH HER?

Ynishere Maybe I do look like the weird daughter...

→ imrebeccad don't fuel the daughter allegations!

→ carlossainz55 I'm not old enough to be your father, please, stop

→ ynishere you two are boring...

User56 ok Rebecca, love, she WANTS YOUR MAN!

Landonorris Lucky man

User86 100% not emo any more

Imrebeccad posted a story

ynishere

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boys

Ynishere Carlos real reaction to the first pic, like 100% real! No clickbait ❌

(got tired of high heels, never again)

View all comments

User76 I don't know who's more of a whore around here

User49 Since when this became a whore house?!

Imrebeccad Nice job with the censoring!

→ ynishere thank you!

User98 So Rebecca is the whore, but Carlos what in...

User44 the girl befriended Rebecca just to try to end her relationship, SUCH A BITCH

carlossainz55 caught in 4K as you might say

→ ynishere glad you know

The comments are now limited

Carlossainz55 and imrebeccad

Carlossainz55 I wasn't supposed to post this, so I'll deal with the consequences of this later, but I have something to tell you guys. I've been seen so many shitty comments on yn's posts, calling her all sort of names that doesn't describe her in the least! She is the most caring, loving, funny, energetic, talkative person I ever met. Everything Rebecca and I can say are good things, and see people that don't know her at all talking shit gives me a headache. Yn say she doesn't care because it is not true, but I know she cares, so I came here to straight things up, I'm not cheating on anyone, Rebecca neither, we're just three people that love each other, and will keep loving each other till death, you liking it or not. Please be respectful with the two girls that I love, they don't deserve all this bullshit.

View all comments

Ynishere I'm too punk rock, I can't cry!

→ imrebeccad she is in fact crying

Ynishere I love you two so much!!!

User4 oh

User66 didn't expect this one

Landonorris Is the Spanish accent, isn't it?

→ ynishere yes

→ imrebeccad it helps

Charlesleclerc FINALLY JESUS CHRIST

Scuderiaferarri PR will contact you soon they're currently crying and shipping the new throuple (can't blame them) and @/Williamsracing good luck next year

→ Williamsracing We're READY! Blue will suit you well @/ynishere

→ ynishere @/Williamsracing I love you already 💙

Imrebeccad my two true loves ❤️

Danielricciardo ok, why all the juicy stuff happens after I got out?

#carlos sainz x reader #rebecca donaldson #carlos sainz x reader x rebecca donaldson #f1 x reader #f1 social media au

157 notes · View notes

gemini-forest · 1 year ago

Text

I'm growing more exhausted with this community's fucking behavior

Vent under cut

I've talked privately before about this but I'm so sick and tired of Rise Twitter behavior on this site. Legit that's why I LEFT.

Y'all are so ready to call people and things fucked up lables instead of leaving well enough alone. You're taking shit at fave value and refusing to budge on things.

I'm gonna rip the band-aid off:

THESE CHARACTERS ARE NOT REAL AND NOT EVERYTHING WILL BE CATERED TO YOU

They aren't gonna behave or act how you think they should and they're tools to tell a story. No matter the type of story no matter how dark and no matter how kid friendly it is.

Don't like April x Any of the turtles because you feel that's incest. Block tags and the artists and move on.

Don't like Tcest? Block the tags and artists and move on.

Don't like an artist/author because they create adult turtle nsfw, block the tags and creator and move on.

But no. Instead y'all rather labe people as things. And I seen this community label folks with shit with no context, no evidence or ignoring jokes.

And majority of you all are adults encouraging this behavior from minors and honestly that's predatory and sad. ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE ENCOURAGING HARASSMENT TOWARDS MINORS

No one is a "neutral", or a "proshipper" and evil because they don't care for something you deem problematic. No one is a "tcester " because they choose to ignore your weird witch hunt for an artist who "could be a tcester".

The amount of dms I have gotten claiming a few of my moots are tcesters, and when I ask for evidence y'all get allergic to evidence real fast regardless of the topic💅

If you read this far lemme make this clear:

I don't ship tcest, April x Any of the turtles, Casey Jr x Any of the turtles, or any other ship or content seen problematic for my personal reasons.

But I do not care if other people doing public or private. And have those tags blocked and it does the job for me and I leave those creators ALONE.

TLDR: STOP HARASSING AND BULLYING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE TGEY MAKE SOMETHING THAT ISN'T CATTERED TO YOU.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rise movie #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles

787 notes · View notes

woahjo · 11 months ago

Text

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else.

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment.

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear.

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent.

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight.

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula."

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands.

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?"

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit."

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane.

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid."

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess."

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now.

"Got a name?" he asks.

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?”

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling.

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?"

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am."

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both.

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed."

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost.

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising.

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to."

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?"

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it.

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step.

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees.

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you.

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation?

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!"

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room.

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him.

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned."

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost.

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while."

"Well, I'm back," he says.

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word.

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?"

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check."

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.”

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?"

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?"

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone."

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock.

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki.

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..."

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him.

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you.

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting.

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't."

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?"

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day."

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this."

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it.

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can."

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months.

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up.

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit.

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words.

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.”

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together.

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.”

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away.

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”

You nod.

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric.

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet.

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks.

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them.

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant.

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing.

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge.

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring.

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark.

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back.

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit.

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway.

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment.

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now.

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner.

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner.

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.”

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.”

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group.

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder.

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina.

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.”

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning.

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues.

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.”

“Mhm,” Mina says.

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.”

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy.

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.”

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri.

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever.

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.”

You swallow thick and nod a little.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.”

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree.

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from.

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink.

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly.

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?”

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask.

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?”

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.”

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude.

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?”

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond.

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.”

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.”

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in.

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us.

—

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation.

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop.

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it.

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough.

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago.

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize.

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.”

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.”

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?”

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.”

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman.

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.”

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?”

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto.

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?”

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg.

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit.

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.”

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find.

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod.

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look.

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.”

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen.

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop.

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.”

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you.

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.”

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes.

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary.

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant.

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.”

You listen as you eat your crackers.

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.”

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.”

Mina laughs a little.

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.”

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers.

“Can you blame me?”

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked.

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.”

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you.

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop.

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder.

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down.

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl.

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it.

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper.

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.”

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely.

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering.

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners.

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at.

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now.

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly.

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask.

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from.

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back.

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it.

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it.

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from.

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it.

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him.

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up.

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones.

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind.

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks.

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.”

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion.

“Got everything?”

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it.

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers.

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread.

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well.

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out.

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe.

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way.

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk.

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation.

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?”

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?”

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again.

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something.

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?”

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm.

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world.

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.”

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.”

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb.

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days.

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any.

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be.

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source.

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet.

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.”

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice.

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.”

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.”

The group grows quiet for a moment.

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.”

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?”

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?”

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.”

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?”

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.”

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds.

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control.

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it.

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect?

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open.

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house.

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place.

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal.

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling.

—

“Need some help?” You say.

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck.

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?”

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him.

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably.

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?”

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.”

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work.

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly.

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch.

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively.

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.”

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others.

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.”

You tilt your head.

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is.

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.”

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little.

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-”

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.”

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side.

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun.

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable.

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that.

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character.

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow.

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task.

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket.

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.”

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out.

“You’re doing laundry.”

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.”

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit.

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.”

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive.

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick.

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering.

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence.

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace.

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid.

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“Were you?”

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.”

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway.

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh.

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?”

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?”

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.”

“She’s pretty,” you say.

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.”

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you.

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little.

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant.

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?”

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused.

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little.

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food.

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him.

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into.

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you.

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both.

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position.

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet.

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.”

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope.

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.”

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes.

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier.

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house.

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better.

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator.

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?”

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in.

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #mha smut #bakugou fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #apocalypse au #tw.violence #tw.blood #tw.loss of identity #tw.derealization #tw.depersonalization #tw.exhaustion #cal.writing #char.bakugou

898 notes · View notes

callixspod · 4 months ago

Text

Your affection. [Read ID]

might make an animatic out of this BUT!! here's more of my brain blasted insanities. Rambles of "I<3U" AU below here ↓

What began as a simple one off story about a living digital consciousness inside a video game to be implemented on Persona 4, and their unused game files hidden behind folders, left to collect dust. But it still remains, waiting for anyone to discover it.

I can't put on the details on how Yosuke even gained sentience, but I can tell you now that this AU simply took place on Persona 4 Vanilla. (Not golden. As much as it has its own content I will be sticking with its roots. So yes, Yosuke didn't own/bought a motorcycle. That event never happened.) Hanamura's odd behavior only happened when the Player bought the game with a specific player ID. So their gameplay experience will be on their perspective of how this one character manages to know, everything about them. Also slightly close to creepypastas which, I loved. Huhu.

This can be seen as a Yume or Souyo ship perspective so pick your poison

Now it's time for Yosuke's unique behavior towards the player when they progress the game. His depraved ass was already set to go off when the player was given the option to pick miscellaneous interactions between the characters, mostly to follow up Yosuke's questions or any one of the investigation team to mention anything about Yosuke. The options being "What kind of girls do you prefer?", "Looking great [insert name]" or the famous "Which ones are you looking forward to see in a swimsuit"

If you're like me and didn't indulge on having a romantic subchoice to any of the members, that's where it triggers the start of a few bugs and glitches manifested behind the scenes, fuelling the code until it couldn't automatically run on itself, but from something else manually taking over. Manifesting the game to not coordinate with its ordered storyline, changing the system to be primarily more unique than others.

When Yosuke only appears for a few days on the weekend, suddenly his model would stand in position to a day that he was not meant to show up. He was meant to show up on a Sunday. So why was he here out in daylight on a Saturday? Other strange occurrences are if whenever Yosuke was on scene, closeups and corrupted texts would come in to reach out to the Player, sending a message that only he and the other side of the screen can see.

Now his normal dialogue never wound up to show from the screen, simply replaced with vague, short-ended questions asking them if "Are you there?" "Can you hear me?" "I can't see you, but I can still hear your voice." "Will you show me someday?" That last part was not a suggestion. Really demanding, hard for him to know he'll be left alone all over again if the Player turns off their game, aw :( And he keeps remembering the shit I gave to you even when I didn't need some of them.

So that's it? I think??? 😭 There will be more, later I'm rlly tired.

until then, have what's served on this 4 stat Yelp restaurant.

#persona 4 #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #souyo #I<3U AU #my art #fanart #attempted to make him look. on model as possible #the warmup sketches says so #i hope that i managed to explain it okay cos my eyez are starting to feel hwsvy #vhgujj

202 notes · View notes

penguinsfly · 11 months ago

Text

I unfortunately saw something I didn't want to see and that was my last straw. I'm fucking doing this.

Let's establish this first. Alastor is stated in the show to be asexual that is not up to discussion. He is also very heavily implied in the same conversation to be aromatic. 'An Ace in the hole' being used in context of him being with Charlie is also implying his aromanticism.

VIDEO

If that's not enough then here is Viv speaking about his romantic orientation. It's pretty clear despite the fact that afterwards she said it's okay to headcanon whatever (it's not but I will get o that later) that he is written purely as an aro ace character.

On top of that going by Alastor's interaction with Angel from the pilot and the first episode it is clear that he is sex repulsed. Not only that but on the fandom website he is stated to be touch averse with two sources which you can check out on the website.

Hazbin hotel wiki, Alastor page

Now we established that Alastor is canonically Asexual, Aromantic, Sex Repulsed and Touch Averse

As I also am all of the above I'll try to explain everything to the best of my ability as simply as I can.

Aromanticism and Asexuality.

I'm probably targeting the audience that knows those terms but regardless I will explain it anyway.

Aromantic - people that experience little to no romantic attraction towards any gender

Asexual - people that experience little to no sexual attraction towards any gender.

Little to no

Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums in which people can feel certain attractions towards people but those attractions are less occurring or are defined by personal connection.

Diagram from AVEN website

However some people are at the end of the spectrum, they never felt attraction and that's valid. Alastor was stated to be aroace he wasn't written as demi or as gray he was written as aroace as in the end of the spectrum. His repulsion and not giving shit about romance or sex speaks for itself.

Representation

I do understand that everyone wants to be represented but it's so important to understand that aroace people are one of the most underrepresented queer groups in the media.

And I'm not here to scream about how I want my fav character to be just like me I don't care for it I'm way too confident in my orientation to rely on that however I'm tired of explaining to people what asexuality and aromanticism is just to receive 'are you sure' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'its not real' or the community favourite 'you'll find the right person' no I won't I'm not looking thank you very much (I just smile and nod to be polite and I'm sick of it).

'Harmless' buts like: 'He might be on the spectrum', 'AroAce people can still feel attraction' hurt the final outcome for all the people on the spectrum not only strictly aroaces because it allows people to write one shots with 'Demi Alastor' that falls in love in 2000 words because he is 'demi' (spoiler alert: they don't understand what that label means). It's just a cover, an opening, sneaky way to disregard his orientation, feel good about themselves and move on. Newsflash there is no moving on for aroace people it's our life.

Shipping

Shipping is just harmless fun right? Usually yes but not in this case. In the same way its not okay to ship gay characters with genders they are not attracted to.

It's erasure and since there is much less people identifying on aro/ace spectrums then there is gay or bi people our voices are being silenced. Not to mention that gay people received support from entire LGBTQIA+ community over the years in contrast to aro/ace specs who to this day are told that we are 'not queer enough' or 'not oppressed enough' often by other queer people.

And finally... FINALLY we get cannon Aro/Ace character that is clearly not interested in romance and sex. Character that beats stereotypes of boring and timid aro/ace people and what's the first people do? They ship him. Alastor's storyline provides so many points to be explored like 'what is his backstory', ' what's about his deal', ' how does he fit in in the found family trope' , 'does he care about hotel guests' yet people choose to write about the only thing that he is not interested in. As a heavily repulsed person that used to be horrified about the fact that I'll have to fall in love with somebody at some point before I found out what aro/ace is I find it repulsive and trust me he would too.

But Viv said it's okay!

Its the same point once again. What if Viv said that it's okay to ship gay Angel with woman. She doesn't have authority to say shit like that.

Queerplatonic relationships

I can't tell you not to do it I don't think he would be necessary interested in it but for fuck sake do your research and try to understand what queerplatonic means before you use it as a cover to shamelessly ship him. Respect the fact that he is sex repulsed and touch averse and you're fine.

Why can't you just avoid it?

First of all I shouldn't have to. Alastor's orientation should be respected in the fandom like any other orientation is. Second of all I've tried. I tried to only look up AroAce Alastor tag I've blocked over 80 people on tumblr alone (I just counted) to avoid to see anything that could trigger me and I'm not talking about slightly shippy posts or fanarts I'm talking about full blown disregard towards his orientation. Guess what it didn't work!

Archive of our own where do I start. I've used this website for over a decade and I could probably count days I didn't go there on my fingers. I'm fluent in AO3 I know which tags I should block. I know how to skim thorough the summary and tags to see if I'm interested. I've seen shit I'm a shipper I've been on ao3 for ten years but never had to mentally prepare myself to face queerphobia as I click on the tab.

Just use aro/ace Alastor tag.

I do and let me tell you people can't tag for shit or they just pretend to be clueless at this point. Besides see this?

there is more ff with Alastor/reader (disgusting) than there is Alastor with his canon orientation and to play the devils advocate for arophobic people there is more Angel/Alastor then his stated in the show sexuality. I understand that fandom goes back before the show was aired but Viv confirmed his orientation back then too.

Summary

I could go on and on bout different issues and maybe I will in the future but I'm not wasting anymore of this weekend on it. I'm ready to answer any questions as long as they are respectful.

I'm aware that he is a fictional character, it doesn't affect him in any way whatsoever but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind.

If there are any mistakes grammar related I'm not sorry I'm fluent in English (not my first language) but I took 3h nap in between and I'm sleep deprived.

Have a nice day.

#alastor #aroace alastor #hazbin hotel #aromantic #asexual #aromantic alastor #asexual alastor

522 notes · View notes

vivilunacornio · 1 month ago

Text

First of all, Merry Christmas

If you're finding this comment on the 25th… man we need friends lol

Second, if you're going to be annoying, don't bother yourself. Just move on, this is not for you.

Well, a month has passed since the end of Arcane and even though I haven't posted anything, I'm always here following some incredible analyses. And during all this time as a Caitvi shipper (long before the series was announced) I've seen everything in just one month

stan Jinx (sorry if you're a decent stan jinx, the ones I've met have serious problems), anti-caitvi, moral police, "arcane critical", vi hater, caitlyn hater, incel, misogynists, harassers, lesbophobes, people who go to the ship's tags to talk shit

And now I started thinking and finally came to the conclusion that… I don't FUCKING care about your opinion. I'm tired of stressing myself out because of misinterpretations. I'm going to have fun, there are fanarts, fanfics and people who love this ship as much as I do. If you couldn't feel the same way I did watching this couple's story, I'm really sorry, because I loved this experience with all my soul. I'm not going to ruin the affection and how special these two are to me just because you didn't like or didn't understand what the writers did to them

I have my own complaints about some of the choices the writers made with them, but nothing that would ruin my experience

To the couple's lovers, a piece of advice: don't pay attention to these people. They won't change the way they think and your argument doesn't mean anything to them, it will only make them think they are right. It's not worth damaging your mental health

So if you're one of those crazy lovers who just wants to freak out and have fun with hc, theories or just finding details, I'd love to freak out with you. Don't be shy, I promise I'm just a little weird

(english is not my native language, so I apologize if any words seem confusing)

#caitvi #violyn #piltover's finest #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn arcane #anti caitvi don't find this post please #I can't stand you anymore #This fandom is awful and I just want to have fun #haters this is not a safe space for you

99 notes · View notes

froggywritesstuff · 1 year ago

Text

rest | yandere!asmodeus

ship/pairing: Yandere!Asmodeus x g/n!reader

fandom: Helluva Boss

request: anon: yandere asmodeus

warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, too many pet names (reader gets called darling, sweetie, honey, and baby), forced close proximity, unwanted touching (not sexual), unhealthy relationship, not proofread

word count: 710

A/N: i'm so very tired rn. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

You glare at the door in front of you, debating running away and back to the comfort of your own bed. No, comfort wasn’t the right word. Your mattress felt unusually hard tonight, and the sheets felt like sandpaper grinding against your skin. Your blankets were too hot and you felt suffocated underneath them, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the uncomfortable sensation you got from sleeping without any covers. After an eternity of contemplation, you will yourself to lift your hand to the door, your knuckle knocking against the wood. Regret immediately hits you as the sound rings through your ears, but you stay still. It’s been too long since you got a good night's sleep and you weren’t gonna let an overgrown chicken stop you from getting that. You’re not letting your guard down, and you’re not letting yourself forget about the monster he really is. The love he claims to shower you with is nothing but poison he decorates with food dye and glitter. And you won’t fall for it, no matter what.

”What’s the matter darling?” he opens the door and you reluctantly crane your neck upwards to meet his eyes.

”I can’t sleep.” you say simply, hands clinging onto your pyjama shirt.

You don’t miss the way his smile widens ever so slightly, before he asks, “Do you wanna sleep in my bed?” he pushes his door open further, allowing you to get a look at his bed. Your body has never felt as exhausted as it does when you see his bed. It’s just so big and fluffy, and the blankets are so soft, you feel like they’re calling to you, telling you to come sleep.

The thought of saying no and marching back to your own room crosses your mind more than once, but you genuinely don’t think you have the energy to do that right now. Nodding your head, you remind yourself of all the shit he’s put you through, you just really want a good sleep. You’re not falling in love with him like he’s so convinced you eventually will and you never will, you know that.

“Is everything alright with your bed sweetie? Anything you need fixed?”

“I dunno I just couldn’t sleep.” you shrug, frustrated over how genuine his voice sounded.

He grabs your shoulders, leading you to the bed, "Well not to worry darling, you're always welcome to sleep in my bed."

You know that. Not a day went by when he wasn't reassuring you that there wasn't any pressure to sleep with him, and that he trusted you to grow comfortable with him in your own time. Though apparently not enough to not kidnap you. You keep reminding yourself of that whenever you catch yourself thinking about how nice he treats you. Or whenever you find yourself wanting to believe him when he tells you how much he loves you.

The bed as you suspected is comfortable as fuck. The soft sheets and blankets gently hug your body, and you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It's almost enough to make you forget about your captor lying next to you. Almost.

"You comfortable honey?" his voice rings through your ear, making you aware of just how close he is.

Shuffling over to further the distance between you, you sigh, ”I hope you know I’m only doing this for your bed, this has nothing to do with you.”

”I know.” he answers nonchalantly, making your chest tighten with frustration.

You sit up, staring at him with the coldest glare you can muster, ”I just want it absolutely clear that I’m exhausted yet I took like, ten minutes standing in front of your door, contemplating sleeping in the same bed as you.”

”You’re adorable baby.” he says tiredly, laughing softly as if this were just some joke. His hand gently but firmly pushes you back down to the bed, done with the ease of moving a pillow. You go to make yourself more comfortable on the bed, but feel Ozzie's hand pull you against his much larger body.

Before you can even begin to struggle, you're trapped between him and his arm, as his mumbled voice softly speaks to you, "Get some rest darling. I love you."

632 notes · View notes

jack-kellys · 17 days ago

Text

so we all know life is a circle. thus fandom is a circle. we see things come back around like the de/twinkification of racetrack higgins. or cowboy versus artist jack kelly. or "mom" friend david jacobs and the perpetual need to make the newsies some kind of heteronormative family. and yet again we've found our way back to the anti katherine pulitzer arc of her "getting in the way" of jack and davey's popular subtextual/fanon relationship. (yes im late nevermind that.)

now, not being a katherine fan is different than being anti-katherine. not being a katherine fan means you might have criticisms like "i'm not sure how she serves the newsies narrative better than, say, sarah jacobs, as sarah is more aligned with the newsies contextually/societally and katherine is very distant and rich lol", or even "i'm not a big fan of how katherine seems to be tired of jack's shit for most of the play and then 'suddenly' finds romantic interest in him within one song".

but being anti-singular-young-woman-character because of a ship between the main two boys is. a tired take is it not? again with the circle, we've had this discourse already and its been cut out. since 2012 and 2017 we been talking about this girl and her value, but not in the context we should be.

(because the context we should be talking about it in is a newsies 1992 versus newsies broadway context, not an anti-katherine context, but i digress.)

katherine's value. what is there to mine from? she is an extremely young woman reporter, 17-18 years old, whose article makes the front page of the new york sun. since she writes under a pseudonym, i'm presuming she writes with skill well above her age to be published at all (yes, even writing vaudeville reviews). in past productions she either finds the newsies at jacobi's because she saw the walk-out (TWWK) from inside The World (UK), or jack kelly simply interests her enough for her to seek him out again (Broadway/Tour/Live). she is unsure about herself as a writer despite her skill which is made clear in her song. she is rich. she did not need to have a career and was encouraged not to. pulitzer is her father and she does not get along with him. she matches jack word for word, often with davey at her side. she mills comfortably about the newsies through the second act and has a friendship of some kind with specs specifically. she also literally says "that's a face [jack's] that could save us all from sinking in the ocean/like someone said 'power tends to corrupt'" essentially prophesying the act 2 betrayal. which is crazy.

you can draw your own conclusions from the above, but all of it is essentially canon? right? so maybe you don't have to be a fan of all of it, but you're really going to tell me absolutely none of this is compelling. that none of this is something you can interpret for yourself as complex. that albert is more complex.

this is not me saying you have to include katherine in everything, because that isn't what this post is about. this is about individuals choosing to dislike or devalue katherine by only viewing her in relation to her as a romantic interest, instead of a complex character in a period piece with a full arc. yes a full arc. it's the musical that's rushed not katherine.

@we-are-inevitable speaks on this extremely well in the comments of this post as well, more in connection to katherine as being a compelling romantic interest in the context of newsies speaking in the defense of love interests/often women characters. in this post i speak on how i would navigate jack/katherine as a director, and in this post i speak on how to direct something to believe in to make it, well, believable, aside from its awful writing for both kath and jack. because again, fandom is a circle, and i literally talked about how to "fix" jatherine in august 2024. at length

#literally scheduling this 8hrs from now cause my visibility is good at like 11am-12pm lmao?????#anyway i wanted to talk ab this for a bit but the reason i didnt till a few days later is bc like.#i just feel like i HAVE already #MULTIPLE times. in 2023 too for uksies katherine bc i rly wanted a jath push for a black jack kelly #AND i feel like i talked abt this adjacently with girlsie spot conlon as well. since its quite pointed that she's a rare find round here.#katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #as for the pseudonym- yes her dad knows she writes but idt the sun knows its her bc they'd be like to pulitzer:#'just have her write in the world'. yk. why would they let joe pulitzer's kid on their pages. they DONT KNOW ITS HER #newsies #newsies the musical #newsies broadway #livesies #newsies live #newsies uk #uksies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #mutuals #jac ily for ur comments on ur post they are truly so clear-worded and like. logical.#fizz freaks #fizz writes #maybe #rizz.analysis #<- best tag on the blog btw.

76 notes · View notes

st4rg1rl-16 · 11 months ago

Text

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ in a club max, lando and carlos make a plan to discover if the ferrari drivers are in a relationship, how? making charles jealous!

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 24 march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ barcelona, spain

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ they are in a club so alcohol consumption jealous!charles, the boys being the little shits they are, fingering (wait what?!) lewis kinda flirting with bella?

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ I been MIA I know, sorry for that but here it is!!and things are starting to get heatedddd

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻

♡ liked by 𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵, 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗹𝘆 and 𝟴𝟲.𝟬𝟲𝟴 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 After revolutionizing not only the motorsport world but also our hearts, Arabella Torres is crowned with the title of the new "it girl" of Europe.

"I've spent this last month hating my body and I'm tired of pretending that everything is fine" The Formula One driver opens up to us showing us her most vulnerable side about hate on social media and several other topics in the interview for the 200th issue of our magazine, now available on 💥 our link💥

Text: 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗿

Interview: 𝘁𝗼𝗺_𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁_𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

Photograph: 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸_𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱_𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗼

Styling: 𝗺𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘄𝗼𝗱𝘂

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 have been tagged

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘀 🏎️🏎️🏎️

⤷ 𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 😍

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭 Wait, I’m running to get it

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟮 I wasn’t a big fan of her but since I saw the live I love her

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 the same happened to me

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟰 Sorry for my ignorance, but what happened? I just got into the fandom.

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 Last month she was sexualized a lot on twitter because some youtubers uploaded a video and mentioned sexual things about her body, she went viral and began to have even more hate than she already had and made a live saying that she was going to leave social media for a while and then talked about how bad she felt, how it was a shame for her family and how it was “staining” her career. She basically talked about how bad it is to sexualize and also took out things like sexism and things like that (+)

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 (+) Then she left social media and we only saw her in the Shanghai and Azerbaijan gps and during these four weeks a lot of celebrities have talked about her and she has gone viral and now she is like the “it girl”.

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟱 ooooh, thanks for the explanation 💖

𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗮𝗿𝗶 That’s our girl!! 😌

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 muchas gracias por darme esta oportunidad! 🤍thank you very much for giving me this opportunity!

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟲 aww she is so cute, why do people hate her?

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟳 Unfortunately there are many people throwing hate at her even though she is a great person

⤷ 𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 Te queremos, Arabella! 🥰 We love you!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 ARABELLA TOOOOOOOORRESSSSSSSSS

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 and 𝟭𝟮𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 liked this comment

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟴 my ship 🥺

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟵 What they've done to her is horrible, now she hates her body when she's beautiful

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟬 I would kill for having a body like hers

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟭 that’s how society works 🙂

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟮 she is probably going to get even more hate after this

"IT would be awesome if your first victory was in Spain" Oliver's smile was focused by the camera. His mother snapped her tongue looking at him with reprimand.

"Oli, son, don't swear on the table, please" The boy looked at his mother and gave her his most charming smile.

"Yes, mommy" The woman rolled her eyes and threw her napkin in his face so he complained while her husband laughed.

Arabella smiled watching the familiar scene unfolding in front of her. The truth was that she had missed it, after so many months away from them and seeing each other only by casual video calls, it was nice to be all together even if the whole family was not yet there because her parents had traveled to Barcelona, where her next race was going to be, with her brother the previous week to celebrate the birthday of the youngest of the Torres family and now a week later her grandparents, her uncles, aunts and her cousins were still to arrive so that everyone could attend the race on Sunday because they wanted to support Arabella in their native country. But this was nice, she had missed hearing her brother's nonsense, her mother acting like a mother and talking about cars with her father. She missed a normal life that she had never had.

"By the way" Her father caught her attention, turned her gaze to him drinking from her glass full of sangria. She saw out of the corner of her eye how she pointed to the team of Netflix’s cameras that surrounded them in the garden of the house they had rented during their stay in Barcelona “Do we have to speak in English or...?”.

Marisa, her mother, let out an disgusted moan “Oh, with how much I struggle with English”.

The green-eyed boy laughed as he nibbled at the chicken wing that his fingers were holding “I still don't understand how you don't know English, mom. Your children are literally international athletes, you should know English”.

"I know English" The eyes of the same color as that of her two children opened in the direction of the teenager before she began to speak in English with a very strong Spanish accent "How are you? I'm fine, thank you!” She smiled with self-centeredness, pointed to herself “See? what your mother doesn't know how to do...”

“Jeez" The girl murmured, sticking her lips to the glass again while her brother burst into laughter, almost chocking with the wing.

The one wearing the glasses looked at his wife with a small smile, obviously trying to hid the laughter that was about to come out, and winked at her “Of course, honey! you are good at everything”.

Her brother's smile increased when their mother smiled sending a kiss to their father, clearly not grasping the intention of his words. Arabella shook her head but still a smile had made room in her full lips, she left the glass on the table and lay down on her chair after making a sandwich with the chorizos that her father had cooked on the barbecue.

"It's for the Netflix’s Formula One docuseries" She spoke with her mouth full, making her mother look at her badly but she didn't see her because she was looking at her father. She shrugged her shoulders turning her gaze to the sandwich before giving it another bite “They wanted to see what my private life is like and we speaks in Spanish so no. Speak in Spanish, period”.

"But your private life so fucking boring" She looked at her brother badly while her teeth crushed the food in her mouth, he stuck out his tongue at her.

"Oh, really? Okay, okay, I don't invite you to the party tonight then” She smiled evilly at what the moto driver let out a gasp bringing his hand to his chest.

"So rude, sister" He shook his head "So rude”.

A pleasant silence covered the table after her brother's words. Manuel, her father, shared smiles with his wife while they watched their children eat. They had also missed the family moments and were grateful to be together, especially after what their daughter had gone through thanks to the internet.

"Then will you go out tonight?" The man cleared his throat, turning his gaze to his firstborn, who nodded.

"It's been the boys' idea" She rolled her eyes “They've just arrived and they already want to party”.

"Don't you have the classification tomorrow?" She nodded to her brother's question and grimaced when she felt their mother's gaze on her.

"Arabella Torres González, don't even think about drinking tonight." She raised her finger and pointed at her accusively. The girl nodded while father and son looked at each other knowing that she was indeed going to drink. The blonde turned her gaze to her plate when she began to cut a piece of bacon “If you drink, don't drive”.

"I wasn't going to go drunk to practice, but well" She murmured, giving the last bite to the bread. She wiped his lips with the napkin that was next to her plate.

The only brown eyed let out a breath of air when the cold Coca Cola passed through his throat and smiled “Well, I think it's great that you go out, honey. Especially after everything that has happened”.

She nodded, offering a smile to her father before looking down at her plate, a common reaction she had to the mention of the twitter situation.

"Do you think you're going to win?" She heard her brother ask and although she thanked him mentally because she knew that he had changed the subject to entertain her, she couldn't help to, without knowing why, tense.

Being honest, she knew why: everyone's eyes would be on her, not only because it was going to be the first time she was going to race in her country since she in formula one, but because of the same issue she was trying to avoid. She had disappeared since what happened, the only time the media could see her was in the Azerbaijan race and they didn't even see her too much because she refrained from doing interviews or any kind of media in addition to the fact that she had moved away from social media even closing her twitter account temporarily after announcing on Instagram live that she was tired of the comments towards her body.

She had managed to hide well from the paparazzi and that had made people talk about, the whole gossip magazines was talking about her and not only them because even in the sports they had mentioned her situation which had caught the attention of many celebrities, especially women, who defended her from the internet trolls and praised her for continuing with her sportiness above all. Her popularity had risen like foam and the contracts and offers of all kinds of brands had not taken long to reach her manager's email. The first offer they had accepted had been to be the cover of the May issue of GQ Magazine where she had taken the opportunity to talk about how the online comments about her body had affected her, which was something quite healing for her, being able to talk loudly about it because she had been keeping it to herself.

Before she didn’t give too much importance to her body, focused since she was a child on cars and nothing else had not gone through that stage in which insecurities about her physique tormented her but that controversy had provoked it. She had suffered a mini crisis in which she was never very hungry, she spent hours looking at her reflection in the mirror thinking that it was what was wrong with her, her wardrobe had changed to a more comfortable and wide one that did not reveal more than the minimum of skin and the salt of her tears was the only thing that fed her.

She wasn't proud of herself, far from it, but what could you wait for? She was just an eighteen-year-old girl receiving hatred everywhere, although none of those people had a face to look at when she read those insults Arabella could not prevent them from affecting her. And although she was much better now, after talking to Sebastian –who was on a plane on his way to Spain, because unfortunately he hadn’t been able to attend Azerbaijan– as if he were her personal psychologist and spending time with her family, she could not help but tense every time something reminded her of the small trauma she had experienced.

She closed her eyes inhaling and exhaling "I have a good feeling but I don't want to jinx it”.

Her mother's hand curled up on hers, looked up to see her and immediately felt a warmth and security invade her body causing her to relax her tense shoulders. Marisa González smiled sweetly at her daughter "No matter what happens, we will be proud of you, cariño. Okay?”.

She bit her lower lip feeling her eyes begin to sting, she nodded "Okay" Her voice came out more raspy than usual, causing the woman to get up from her seat and approach her daughter to hug her.

"THIS is so awkward" A somewhat drunk Lando looked worriedly at his teammate while he rolled his eyes denying. He pushed his arm when he saw him “Carlos! What do we do? I can't keep this secret that is eating me alive”.

"It's not a secret because we don't know if it's true" He leaned over to take his glass from the small table in front of the sofa on which they were both sitting and drank from it.

He was going to need alcohol to survive the night.

He opened his eyes in an exaggerated and paranoid way “What do you mean, Carlos? Look at them, they look like cats in heat!” He extended both arms towards the dance floor where they could see Arabella dancing with Daniel and Pierre while Charles was next to George at the bar, neither of the two pending the presence of the other to the very opposite of what number 4 had said.

A "Mmh" sounded on the other side and they both quickly turned their heads to see the Dutchman sitting on the other sofa. The McLaren's idiots opened their eyes with surprise when they remembered that the Red Bull driver was with them.

"So, do you think Arabella and Charles are together?" He raised one of his eyebrows, curious because he swore to have seen things among the members of the red team but he had not yet mentioned his suspicions to anyone.

"Don't tell anyone, but yes”.

"It's not that we believe it, it's that we know it" The British raised his index finger to emphasize his words.

"Oh, really? How?” Max moved in his seat, approaching them to try to get information from them because he had decided not to drink that night so he was bored as he watched his friends and co-workers approach the ethyl coma.

The curly-haired one approached him too, looking over his shoulder to prevent unwanted ears from hearing their conversation “Have you seen how they look at each other? Or at least how Charles looks at her? She is more discreet but he is not and clearly that look is not from friends”.

"Mmm" The 33 rubbed his chin before a mischievous smile crept into his lips "Maybe we can make them confess”.

"Ohhhhh" Lando laughed while Carlos pursed his lips.

"I don't know, guys" He denied taking another sip from his glass "We shouldn't get in, I also think they're angry at each other”.

"Yes” Verstappen’s blue eyes moved to the spaniard "I've noticed it too, they're acting weird. They don't talk much”.

Norris let out a moan of protest while patting his thigh “Now that we have something to entertain ourselves, they go and break up”.

"Shut up, shut up!" The eldest of the three exclaimed between his teeth when he saw Pierre and Arabella approaching the VIP zone, the reflections of the lights colliding against the brightness of the girl's skirt almost blinded him "They're coming, they're coming”.

Pierre let go of the girl's hand and dropped with a sigh on the sofa next to Max, who looked at him raising both eyebrows making the Frenchman smile at him unwillingly “God, i’m dead”.

"But we barely have danced, P” The girl who was still standing laughed, Carlos moved making room for her but she denied leaning a hand on his shoulder. She made puppy eyes “Carlitos, you coming to dance with me”.

He shook his head without looking at her because he knew he was going to give in if he kept looking at her “No, no, I'm okay here”.

"Oh, come on!" She complained before taking his hand and began to pull him but it was of little use. Releasing a blow, she sat next to him and took the cup, earning a complaint from him “You are the only one with whom I can sing the songs, this useless frenchie doesn’t know the lyrics”.

"Sorry for not knowing Spanish!" The other exclaimed as he raised both arms "I already know English and Italian and that is more than enough”.

"Hey, what about Daniel?" The Dutchman frowned when he realized that his former teammate was not in the group.

"He found a girl" The girl shrugged her shoulders accepting the glass of the other spaniard when he took a sip and then hand in it to her again.

Immediately everyone let out complaints in unison and she laughed because she knew why. They had decided to ignore the hotels and rent a house all together to be able to stay a couple more days in the country and, well, they were going to have to listen to the australian and his fling all night.

"Can I sleep with you today?" Carlos looked at her horrified because he was the one who had his room next to Ricciardo's, she denied what he opened his mouth in pain "Why not?"

"Because you don't want to dance with me" She was busy arguing with him so she didn't notice when Max collided his knee with Lando's to get his attention, once the boy looked at him he nodded to the girl opening his eyes.

"What?" He asked in a confused whisper to what Max rolled his eyes and Pierre approached them, curious about what was happening.

"Go dance with her so we can make Charles jealous”.

"Why is Charles going to get jealous because Bella dances with Lando?" Pierre looked at them strangely, he was not surprised about a jealous Charles because, obviously, he had also realized the feelings of his friends, what he didn’t understand was why was he going to feel jealous of the little boy of the McLaren team.

A demonic smile was planted on the full lips of the much acclaimed lion “You'll see”.

With his gaze he pointed to the duo that was approaching them and Gasly nodded impatiently to see how the Dutchman's plan unfolded.

"Bells" The voice of the curly haired one came out high and both the 10 and the 33 had to put their hands to their mouths to avoid laughing. The girl looked at him expectantly but smiling, he swallowed saliva feeling nervous suddenly “I can dance with you, if you want”.

She nodded before getting up and extending her hand towards him, who didn't take long to take her between his much larger one and let himself be guided by her to the dance floor. Along the way they met Charles and George, his blueish green eyes collided with the greens of the Monegasque who clearly did not look very happy at the image in front of him. He swallowed again, praying mentally that the elder would not end up beating him up. The girl in front of him kept pulling him, completely ignoring her teammate but not without giving a smile to her other British friend who responded by raising both thumbs.

Fuck he thought when the reggaeton song of which he didn't know how to pronounce its name changed to Reminder by The Weeknd. A wave of screams filled his ears when the first chords filled the nightclub, he watched as the sweaty bodies stuck even more when he heard the song and suddenly he felt that the shirt that decorated his torso was too small for him. He hooked his index finger on the neck to relieve the sensation a little but it didn't work too much.

His eyes went down to the girl in front of him, despite wearing heels she was still shorter than him so he could see the club above her head. He bit the inside of his cheek when they finally found a clear space on the track and turned around to look at him.

She analyzed him from top to bottom before showing him a nice smile "If you want we can go back, Lan. It's okay”.

He immediately denied “No, no, it's fine. Let's dance, that's what we've come for, right?”.

"Okay, but if you feel uncomfortable, tell me" She stood on her tippy toes to reach his ear because Abel Tesfaye's voice was too loud. The boy closed his eyes when he smelled her perfume “Okay?”.

She separated from him, enough so that they could look at each other's face but not so that their bodies would stop being against each other. He nodded speechlessly looking into her eyes and she smiled funny before taking her hands and placing them on her hips to which the boy opened his eyes wide making her throw her head after laughing.

"They are just hips, Lando!"

"Yeah, i know, but... don't blame me" He laughed too.

On the other side of the nightclub, their friends watched them as if they were the best show in the world while Charles felt that he was going about to throw up. He squeezed his grip on the glass that was in his hands without looking away from the young drivers, who now danced very close to each other. It should be him who was there moving his body next to hers, it should be him who had his hands on her hips, it should be him who had his arms around her neck. It should be him and not Lando.

"They would make a good couple" He heard Sainz speak, who was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I thought that if she would date with one of us it would be Max" All the eyes, including Charles's, went to George, who had not realized that he had become the center of attention because he was very distracted on his mission to catch with his straw a gummie that was at the bottom of his glass.

The named one frowned “With me?”.

Pierre moved in his seat offended "Yes, what do you mean with Max?" Why not with me?”.

The Spaniard laughed scratching his leg over the fabric of his jeans “Don't you have a girlfriend?”.

"Shut up, Carlos. This is important” The Frenchman raised his hand trying to block the Spanish's face.

Russell's bulging eyes rose to look at his colleagues “I mean... I don't know, between Max and Bella there is like this strange tension but at the same time they get along well. I guess it will be because they are both so focused about beating Hamilton but I thought they would end up together”.

The green eyes of the number 16 traveled to his childhood rival, his desire to throw up became even stronger when he saw that he was struggling not to let out a smile. He knew that he had liked the British's words and although he couldn’t blame him because, to be honest, they were all young men and she was practically a goddess so he was not too surprised that he was not the only one interested in her.

"Mmmh" Pierre's lips furrowed in agreement. "Yeah, they wouldn't look bad together. It would be kind of enemies on the track to lovers off the track, it would make sense”.

Russell pointed it at him “Right?”.

"But she and Lando have already kissed" After Verstappen's words, everyone looked at him strangely.

Carlos let out a high-pitched squeal “It was you who interrupted them!”.

"Yes" He laughed nodding as he drank from his glass, he moved his gaze towards the boy sitting next to him.

"Well, Landito has a lot of advantage then" Carlos' honey eyes returned to the dance floor causing the others to imitate him. The youngest pair of the group were dancing as close as they could to each other, they were sure that not even a pen could fit between them, Arabella was with her back to him with her arms hanging from his neck while Lando hid her face in her neck and his hands kept a firm grip on the girl's waist.

"Do you think they will fuck tonight?" The dirty blond with a beard smiled like a kid, entertained by the reaction of his best friend but also happy that his friends got some kind of action.

"Looks like it”.

Before Max's words, he squeezed the glass so much that it exploded, attracting the attention of others and even of some people around them. He felt the cold liquid from his cup pierce the fabric of his pants when he released the last piece of glass that he was still holding in his hands. He waved his hand to get rid of the liquid and let Carlos take it to inspect that no crystal had been stuck in his skin.

"Fuck, Leclerc" The one with the raspy voice handed him napkins from the napkin holder that was on the low table in the center of the sofas.

He looked back at the dance floor ignoring how Carlos called a waitress or how Pierre and Max tried to clean the mess by throwing an unnecessary amount of napkins on the floor. Suddenly he was relieved when he saw the dark-haired British boy walking towards the table, with no trace of the brunette next to him.

"What happened?" Lando's disheveled eyebrows came together when he saw his friends trying to clean the floor and Charles soaked from top to bottom.

The monegasque had to look away from the boy when he noticed a mark of lipstick of the same color as the one Arabella wore on his cheek. He got up abruptly releasing a quick "I'm going to the bathroom" before leaving.

He walked through the club as if the devil himself was behind him, he ignored the screams of the people when the song changed and also the looks of the Spanish girls on him in addition to their whispers. Once he reached the hallway where the bathroom was, he let out a sigh, his knuckles had turned white from how hard he was squeezing his fists. He leaned against the wall taking advantage of the fact that the hallway was empty and sighed, bringing a hand to his hair.

Damn the day he met Arabella Torres. Since that day, everything that could have gone wrong was going wrong. He didn't blame her but the damn fate for playing with him that way.

He leaned his head on the wall, looking at the ceiling and thought that it wasn’t as he had expected the night to be. He had gone to the party hoping to be able to talk to her and fix their problems but no, she hadn’t even give a single look to him and that drove him crazy because since their fight and having left him lying in her driver’s room they hadn’t spoken, except for some video that the Ferrari stuff had forced them to record for the YouTube channel and little else. They hadn't even seen each other since the last race, they were supposed to have flown together from Azerbaijan to Barcelona but Arabella had run away to Madrid to celebrate her brother's birthday with her family so it had been almost two weeks since they had last seen each other.

For a moment he wondered what his life would have been like if maybe they were in different teams or if they were normal people and met at a party like this or maybe at college. Everything would have been very different and much easier.

He moved his head following the rhythm of the song without knowing that the lyrics said because it was in spanish and sighed when he heard the door of one of the bathrooms open, he looked down even without separating his head from the wall.

Oh, what a coincidence.

"What happened to your pants?" Arabella was in front of him, looking with a frown at the dark spot that covered much of the fabric that covered his leg.

"My glass exploded" He replied in a hoarse voice because he had not said a word almost all night. He observed her through his long eyelashes, trying to memorize the image in front of him before she ignored him again.

"Ah, good luck cleaning that then" She squeezed her lips and began to turn, ready to get out of there, to run away from him again but he prevented her by grabbing her wrist. She froze in his place, she had missed his touch, she let out a sigh trying to stay calm “Charles, let me go”.

"Why?" A cynical smile stood on his lips "Are you in a hurry to go back to Lando?".

He saw how she tilted her head to the side before she let go of his grip and turned around, he saw how she looked at him confused.

“What does Lando have to do with this?”.

"I've seen how he was kissing your neck and how you danced very close. Too close to be just friends" Everything around Charles was red, as red as the cars they drove or the uniforms they wore on weekends. He was jealous and drunk and didn't think too clearly because they both knew that he wasn't like that. Arabella looked at him strangely, she never seen him that way “What, have you already found my replacement?”.

"What the fuck?" She murmured in spanish. The girl was surprised and as incredible as it may seem, turned on.

"Maybe you can go to McLaren" He bowed his head as his gaze went from her eyes to his lips "But you know that orange will never look as good as red on you”.

She immediately realized that it was a metaphor and wanted to laugh but was too confused to do so. The alcohol in her system next to Charles' perfume wasn't really helpful. She knew that he was playing a game and that if she followed it she could get burned but everyone knew that Arabella Torres was reckless and that she liked danger.

Her confused expression changed, Charles couldn’t describe it but when she began to shorten the distance between them he began to walk backwards, unconsciously entering the women's bathroom, which was empty thank God. He felt his mouth dry when he saw that the girl's hand went to her chest where she began to play with the buttons of the shirt she was wearing “I'm not sure if the red fits me so well” Slow but very slowly she unbuttoned the first buttons revealing a red lace bra. She gathered his eyebrows looking at him with feigned curiosity and in an innocent tone asked him "What do you think?"

He blinked a couple of times before looking up at her. He cursed in French before shortening the distance and smashing his lips against hers. He passed his hand through his neck entangled his fingers between the soft waves of brown hair, closed his fist and pulled her hair forcing her to walk towards the sink. Her ass hit the edge of the marble board making her moan in his mouth because his free hand was squeezing her butt making the Prada's skirt rise and she could feel the cold marble against her skin. The moan in his mouth made him smile, his hands moving from top to bottom through her body caressing her barely covered skin thanks to the open shirt and the short skirt.

Her hands traveled to the boy's neck, one of them taking over the small strands that were born on the back of his neck causing Charles to open his lips but not move them, he stayed in his place watching as she twisted under his touch, the smug smile he had on his lips made her know that he was enjoying it. The tips of his bangs stuck to her skin thanks to the thin space between their foreheads tickling her, which was making her nervous.

Arabella let out a small moan when she felt his right hand go up from her ass to her naked thigh and go through the bottom of her skirt to her underwear. He kissed her again as he pressed with his finger –she wouldn’t know which one– against the fine red lace garment that separated her skin from the contact of his hand.

For a second she thought that she had reached glory when she felt how he was pressing even harder but she fell from the cloud when he separated. She looked at him frowning at what he gave her a smile of apology before asking her with his eyes if she was okay and comfortable with that.

At another time maybe she would have thought it was cute but she was drunk and horny so she could only roll her eyes and take his hand with hers to place it back on her panties “For God's sake, Charles. Just do it”.

This time it was she who joined their lips, ran her fingers through his hair and pressed herself as hard as she could against him while their tongues fought each other. She let herself be embraced by his pleasant smell and the thousand sensations she felt when he was like this with her.

She released her grip on his hair and took her hands along a path from his neck to his chest where she took the shirt in her fists and, in one movement, pulled it breaking the buttons making them fly. He walked away from her when he heard the buttons touch the ground, he looked at them without expression before turning his gaze towards her, raising an eyebrow looking at her between his eyelashes. She bit her lip because, let's be honest, he looked too good looking at her like that from that angle.

"I'll buy you a new one" She went to tell him, but before she opened her mouth, he screwed his hands on the back of her thighs, causing her to let out a small choked scream in surprise when she didn't feel the ground under her feet.

She hissed when the cold of the marble hit the skin of her thighs although she was silent when she felt Charles' hands raise her skirt more to have better access between her legs. The monegasque released the garment when he felt her gaze on him, he looked at her without raising his face, giving a dark touch to his gaze. They watched each other in silence for a few seconds until Charles took his right hand to her jaw and kissed her quickly, separated from her but not enough so that their breaths didn’t mix and took his fingers to her lips.

"Open your mouth" He murmured still holding her gaze, the girl obeyed by letting his fingers pass between her lips meanwhile he looked down at her mouth “Suck”.

He watched with delight as the girl's swollen lips closed around his digits, he felt her tongue playing with them. He looked into her eyes and found that she was already looking at him and almost moaned at that moment.

"Merde, mon ange" He cursed when she let go of his fingers making a pop resonate through the empty bathroom. Shit, my angel.

"Charles..." She said his name in a sigh. He looked at her expectantly with his fingers still touching her lips, the skin of her mouth stained by the red lipstick collided with his finger tips surely staining them too “Charles, please”.

"Please, what?" His voice came out in a murmur but she still heard him and of course she did because the only thing she could hear, feel and smell was him. She was drunk but the alcohol wasn’t what the room had circling around her but him.

She hated Charles Leclerc, she hated the effect he had on her, she hated that even though she was angry with him she felt the stupid need to feel his skin against hers, she hated that they couldn’t be together, she hated that he was playing with her that way, she hated that it made her question every damn aspect of his life. She hated him.

Damn Leclerc and his perfect eyes.

She squeezed her grip on his shirt and kissed the fingers that hadn’t yet separated from her lips before looking at him through her long eyelashes with the most pleading look she could give him "I need you. Please”.

Pathetic, she thought for a moment but the boy's hands rolling up on the fabric that covered her private parts returned her to reality or at least to that bubble in which they had both locked themselves. She rested her hands on the white marble countertop and raised her hips to help him slide the garment down her legs before he made a gap between them and kissed her abruptly.

She felt how the tips of his fingers caressed the inside of her thighs until he reached his destination. She felt how they grazed her folds, covering them with her juices and she groaned in his mouth when she felt him slowly rubbing her clit.

The boy broke the kiss by grabbing her neck when she saw that she made the move of throwing her head back “Was that what you wanted?” His voice was so calm, in contrast to how trembling her breathing was “Did you want my fingers, mmh?”.

"Please" She groaned and he pressed his fingers harder.

She let out a gasp when his fingers slightly touched her entrance, pushed her hips against his hand desperate for his touch, that caused him to laugh. He put one of his fingers inside and a soft moan came out of her, hips moving again to look for some kind of liberation “More” She complained in a murmur under the intense gaze of the boy.

"More?" He smiled and inserted another finger, feeling the walls tighten around his fingers, his hand moving to equalize the movements of her hips, putting in and pulling out his finger being able to hear the wet sounds.

The whining and moans began to get stronger, the nails stuck strongly in the skin of his shoulder on the fabric of his shirt and he moaned at the sensation, looking at her as he fucked her with his fingers.

Arabella thought that not only did his fingers feel incredible, but he also looked so good in front of her and just by looking at him touching her she thought he could send her to the limit. His thumb went up to rub her clit causing her to sink her teeth into her lower lip, the sensation became too intense.

"I'm so c-close" She groaned and he straightened up, crashing his lips in hers, their tongues dancing in a passionate kiss while his fingers pushed into her faster and deeper. The fluids ran through his hand while his thumb applied even more pressure. She felt so overwhelmed that she couldn't even keep up with the kiss, she was too focused on how well her fingers felt inside her.

And just when she began to feel those tickles in her lower belly that she had rarely felt in her life, everything stopped making her open her eyes abruptly. She looked at the boy in front of her confused and moaned when she felt how her disconnected their bodies.

“Charles...”.

His free hand squeezed on the back of her neck, he approached her ear and she heard how he smiled, "You're right, red doesn't look that good on you.

He walked away from her causing a sudden feeling of being cold to cover her body, she frowned when he saw him crouch and take her thong from the floor. With a mocking smile he shook it before storing it in the pocket of his pants “I'll keep this, maybe it will bring me good luck and I beat you in your home race. See you, mon ange”.

He winked at her, causing his dimples to be marked on his face. She looked at him, her eyes shining thanks to the tears of frustration that had accumulated. She clenched her jaw watching how he was leaving the bathroom so calmly. She looked silently for a couple of seconds at the door through which he had disappeared before releasing a scream of rage. She swallowed between quick breaths and closed her eyes, dropping her head against the cold mirror.

"Fucking asshole”.

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 added to their story!

A mischievous smile was present Charles' face, who was looking at the photos that Arabella had uploaded. He looked up from his phone when he heard footsteps enter his part of the garage, he saw one of his teammate's engineers approach his car to talk to his own engineers. He ignored him and looked back at the device in his hands, trying to hide his deception when he saw that it wasn't the brunette.

But when a part of the conversation made its way to him he couldn't help but turn his attention to them. He continued looking at the phone and moving his thumb across the screen from time to time to disguise it.

"I recommend that you don't talk to Arabella today" Said the man whose name Charles didn't know. He had seen him several times in the other part of the Ferrari garage but the truth was that he had never paid much attention to Arabella's team. His ears perked up at the girl's name.

“Why?” His engineers were clearly not as interested as Charles as they didn't even give him a second glance and continued inspecting the car.

"Just don't say anything to her unless she talks to you first".

And with that he ran to the other end of the red walls. He frowned and got up from his seat, left the garage belonging to his team and began to walk towards McLaren's, ready to find Carlos because he knew on good authority that the spaniard was the one who kept the paddock's princess' secrets.

He laughed to himself wondering if she had told him what happened in the bathroom at the nightclub last night. He hesitated because she told him everything but he wasn't so sure if she would tell him that.

I'll find it out now, he thought as he saw the spaniard sitting on the ground with several others. He clenched his jaw at the sight of the other part of the McLaren duo but continued his pace towards them anyway.

"Haven't you noticed that she's acting strange?" The Australian's notable nose wrinkled at his own question. He narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah? No, I don't know" Alex raised his head looking at the others confused "I mean, I don't know her as well as you do but there is something different about her".

"Maybe she's just focused on trying to win in her homerace" His best friend shrugged, turning his head to look at the other side of the paddock. He raised both eyebrows when he saw him and was immediately excited "Charles is his teammate, surely he can tell us what is happening to our girl".

He looked down at him, his expression showing very clearly that he had not liked the way he had referred to the spanish woman. Gasly's annoyed smile widened as he separated the green from the blue and shook his head.

"We argued so she doesn't talk to me" He put his hands on both hips and rested his weight on one leg. He looked at Carlos surreptitiously trying to see some kind of expression that would give away that he knew about their relationship but nothing. On the one hand he felt relieved, on the other he felt the need to talk to someone about it but he knew it was too big a risk.

He felt Ricciardo's hand collide with his shoulder and then his contagious laughter filled his ears "Have you never heard the expression "happy woman, happy garage"?.

"What have you done now?".

He looked at Albon, putting a hand to his chest, offended “Why does it have to be me?”.

"She's the one who doesn't talk to you, the one who must have screwed up must have been you" Carlos joined his hands on top of his knees, his eyes focused on some distant point behind Charles' body.

He opened his mouth to complain but the vpice of the protagonist's of the conversation made everyone look in the same direction that Carlos had his eyes on. The girl walked through the paddock alongside a group of cameras and interviewers, answering her questions with her calm even though the press seemed to be about to kill each other to be able to walk near her. As if she were some kind of saint who just by being close to her and breathing her air would cure most horrible symptoms.

Lando broke the silence that had formed between them by speaking for the first time since the monegasque had joined them “They have never fought to interview me.”

"Me neither".

"Neither" Daniel responded and Alex just clicked his tongue.

He curled his lips and then remembered that in the other two races she hadn't done any kind of press. Charles didn't know why but it wasn't like he could ask her either. He watched her walk away and twisted his head, something was happening here.

"POLE position, baby!" Alexandre exclaimed in her ears and she laughed at the man's enthusiasm. As always before getting out of the car, she thanked the team over the radio and took off her helmet followed by her balaclava. She heard the roar of the Mercedes and watched as Hamilton's car parked next to hers, she saw him get out of her and copy her, taking off his helmet and balaclava. He looked at her and smiled at her raising both eyebrows to which she rolled her eyes and started walking away.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The British accent sounded soft and sweet next to her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye seeing that he had not taken long to get next to her. She tightened her grip on her helmet.

"Because I don't want to see you" She smiled sarcastically still looking ahead. Lewis frowned and quickened his pace to stand in front of her, walking backwards. He observed her face delighting in it when he saw her make a face of frustration when she saw him in front of her "You're going to fall".

A smile planted itself on his plump lips “Aw, you care about me.”

"On the contrary, it would brighten my day" Sarcasm continued decorating her pretty smile.

"I thought me being second was what would make your day" He stopped his pace abruptly, causing her to collide with him, she placed her hands on his hard chest to avoid stepping on him and grunted in annoyance while the british man smiled, clearly enjoying the moment.

As if he were poison, she quickly let go. She looked up to see him, remaining silent for a few seconds because she didn't know they were so close to each other. She blinked before pushing him away, his annoying laughter soon filling her ears “Enjoy the views from the second place.”

The man laughed again watching her walk away from him towards her garage, her car being driven by one of the engineers following her at a considerable speed. He sank her teeth into his bottom lip before raising his voice“I'll do it! Believe me, I will".

She hurried into the garage, clenching her jaw as she saw the monegasque driver giving her a smile as if nothing had happened between them "Congratulations…"

She raised a hand blocking his face and his words before passing by him and heading to the hallway that would take her to her room, ignoring how the red polo shirts were soaked with champagne and how everyone was celebrating the pole position. Upon arrival she dropped the helmet on the ground without giving much importance to the loud noise it made when it hit the ground and threw herself onto the sofa while releasing a sigh. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"ARABELLA TORRES CROSSES THE STARTING LINE CROWNED AS THE NEW WORLD CHAMPION!"

Despite the roar of the car engine and the cloaks covering her ears she could hear the screams of the audience. She frowned when she saw a sea of red and yellow flags, her team began to take their place on the fence that separated the track from the pedestrian zone, she saw how they shouted with smiles on their faces and how they waved their flag in the air and then she knew.

She had won.

She had won the last race of the season and just like that the fucking title of world champion was hers.

She laughed madly, raising her arm above the halo in celebration. She pressed the button on the radio and incredulously asked "Have I won?".

"YOU'RE WORLD CHAMPION, BABY!—She heard Susie's scream, behind the blonde's voice she could hear the others celebrating the victory. Her smile widened even more making her cheeks start to hurt. Wolff wiped her own tears and picked up the microphone, bringing it to her lips. "You've won, Arabella. You've done".

Her lips trembled but the smile didn't fade, her throat went dry and for a moment she saw blurred "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you so much to all of you, guys."

Come on, get out of the car so we can celebrate" This time it was Toto's voice that rang through her ears, he nodded and followed the few meters of road until she reached the sign with the number one. She parked in it and sighed before getting up from her seat and raising both arms in victory.

She got out of the car feeling tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She took off her helmet and balaclava before kneeling on the ground right in front of the car, clasping her hands together and resting them against the nose of the black car and then resting her forehead on her hands, as if she were praying to the machine. She lowered her head until her forehead was almost touching the floor and, finally, she cried. She let out a sob so hard her chest hurt, and she grabbed the fabric of the chest of her suit tightly.

"Arabella, Arabella, Arabella!" For a moment she heard nothing but the audience chanting her name.

She sobbed again, raising her head, looking around around. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Was that really happening? She looked at the camera in front of her and with her hand on rop of her heart chehe vocalized several "Thank you" non-stop.

Suddenly she heard a loud bang and immediately afterward the screams of people, she looked at her hands and frowned when she saw that they were illuminated by an orange light.

She raised her head slowly seeing how her car was on fire, she moved her gaze to the right finding the red car embedded in the side of hers. She watched in horror as Charles's lifeless eyes looked back at her.

“Arabella, Arabella, Arabella!” The crowd's cries grew even louder and she willed them to shut up. She got up to run towards Charles but it was too late, neither he nor both cars nor even the circuit were there.

“Arabella, wake up” Some light pushes drew her to reality, with a gasp she opened her eyes, meeting Sebastian's face.

She smiled when she saw him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She heard his laugh and felt how he gave a kiss on her hair before caressing it.

"I'm here, siéger” He whispered into her ear, his voice immediately bringing him peace. She sighed against his shoulder “I'm here.” Champion.

"God, I've missed you so much" She murmured against his jacket, she hid her face even more in his neck, feeling the man's hand go up and down her back.

“Me too, siéger” He patted her on the back a couple of times and began to let her go. He looked at her with a frown “Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yeah, but…wait” Her gaze ran to rest on the clock on the wall right next to the television. She opened her eyes in surprise before looking at the man kneeling in front of her "Is it Sunday already?".

Vettel nodded “Yes, you've been sleeping here since qualifying. It's been a long nap”.

She put her head in her hands, hiding her face in them, and let out a sigh “I didn't sleep much yesterday.”

“How much?”.

She denied, remembering that when she arrived at the villa that the boys had rented she couldn't sleep but instead stayed tossing and turning in bed all night without stopping thinking about the race and how frustrated the green-eyed boy had left her. Plus Carlos's unconscious body trying to hug her every chance she got didn't help her much “An hour”.

“Fuck, siéger” He let out an incredulous laugh “And yet you qualified on pole, incredible”.

She shrugged as if it was nothing. She turned her neck to both sides grimacing when she heard the bones creak and got up from the couch being followed by the german, who stepped forward to open the door for her.

They walked among the paddock, heading to the common cafeteria so the girl could have breakfast. They both ignored the surprised looks at seeing the former champion walk and chat so calmly next to the driver, since it was not public knowledge that she and Sebastian Vettel had known each other and had maintained a friendship since she was a child. She licked her lips watching the cameras not far from them, she knew that at any moment people were going to find out so she tried not to give it much importance while the dark blonde, on the other hand, looked a little worried.

Sebastian knew that the girl didn’t want the public to know about her friendship, either the one she had with him or with the Schumachers, since the public would quickly question all of her achievements in her career. Both Sebastian and Mick understood and agreed with her, they knew Michael would agree too. And that's how it had been since they met, distancing herself from the Schumacher’s son while they were in public when they met at a race even though they both wanted to talk or simply enjoy each other's company, not being able to go to Sebastian's races to support him or couldn't even talk about how the germans had become fundamental supports in her life since she met them at the tender age of eleven.

That's why he couldn't help but be surprised when he accepted her call and heard her invite him to the next race. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, he knew that she had had a bad time and he was worried about her, after all for him, she was like his eldest daughter. Not for nothing did his first-born daughter bear her name.

Once seated in the cafeteria, they were accompanied by the girl's manager and her publicist, who after waiting for her to have breakfast, dragged her away because she had to do some interviews.

“Don't you notice something strange on her?” Nicholas took a bite of his croissant, both men watching the two women walk away at a hasty pace.

“There is something in her gaze” He responded, nodding “Something that I don't know if I like”.

He had noticed it and it had not been difficult for him to recognize that shine in her eyes. He more than anyone could know it, because a while ago he also had that shine in his own eyes.

275 notes · View notes

mieldreams · 4 months ago

Text

Payal

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is the roommate of your best friend's crush. That's all. Well, he's also a pain in the ass. But could one dance and a lucky pair of payal change things?

pt 2 is out!

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x desi!reader (or just reader who's familiar/involved with that culture, no physical descriptions involved)

Warnings: None, except for 'i haven't proofread a single fucking thing' :) sorry for the mistakes in advance.

A/n: wrote something on a whim again (this is the first ever time I've written a proper fanfic tho *_*). Happy navratri y'all

Edit: Here's some payal playbacks aka any moodboard/refs if you want to know (songs, outfits, word meanings etc.)

It was Navratri, the festival in honour of the Goddess Durga. Nine nights of colours, prayers, and a whole lot of dancing. Oh, and the sweets! You couldn't wait to just rot your teeth on those festive delicacies.

It was the 5th night of festivities and today's celebrations were mainly the daily prayer and the dandiya dance. The special event for today however, was the ladies' dance competition. Your best friend had practically dragged your ass to get your name registered along with hers and your other friend Pari's, a half-assed promise of treating you to your favourite food at that fancy restaurant on the other side of the city to bribe you into the elaborate bollywood-esque romance scheme to seduce her crush. "There's no seducing!" she whisper-shouted, standing at the booth where you had to give your name, her cheeks immediately heating up at your insinuation. "I just want him to... see me, you know?" and you couldn't help but mentally scoff at that, why was she so blind? "Plus the price is money," she added, smirking as she picked up the pen to write down the names.

"Well shit, you should've said that first girl, I'm always looking to make me some moolah" your smirk matching hers even though your brain was already exhausted just *thinking* about the hours of practice she was gonna make you do to make sure everything was perfect to the T. That was over a week back, and after hours of choreographing and practising and picking out the costumes, the day was here, and despite all the whining you had done during practice, you couldn't deny that you actually hoped that her plan worked. Was it because you were tired of your oblivious best friend and her equally oblivious man playing dog and the bone with their feelings? Nooo, you could never be tired of your darling best friend's endless rants about how 'handsome he looked at the cafeteria today, in his lucky white cashmere sweater his ex-grandma gifted him in 2019' (how did she know that?) or how 'it's so sad his little sister's goldfish died because it jumped into the pot of boiling water for tea, and they've invited us to its funeral' (what?). And it most definitely wasn't because you were starting to get sick of having to watch them make those nauseating googly eyes at each other every time you hung out, for the past year. (though you wondered if it would only get worse when they finally got together.)

That's right, when, because if those two failed to get their ship sailing after tonight, you were 100% planning on just walking up to each of them, asking them what time they're free for dinner and setting them up on a date yourself. Your mental planning however, was disrupted by the creaking of the metal gate to the lawn space that had been rented for the festival. You turned around, a smile immediately pulling on your lips at the sight of the said man you were downright ready to shake like a maraca till your best friend got her deserved confession (though you expected the same on her end as well, of course). But the smile immediately fell at the sight of another man walking in right behind him. Anakin. What the hell was he doing here? And truly, the scowl that pulled on your face was hardly your fault when his eyes met yours and his lips immediately turned up into that infuriating smirk as the two of them headed towards you. But before you could march up to him and demand why he was here, your best friend ran up to you, gripping your arm to stop herself from crashing into you (you supposed the accidental intervention was for the better, since asking him such a thing might only give him more reason to mock you, it was obvious he was here with Krish, your best friend's crush who was also very unfortunately college roommates with Anakin, seriously how did someone as sweet as that guy get stuck with a moron like him?).

"C'mon it's time for the competition to start, ours is literally the second performance!" She started to drag you by the arm only to stop immediately at the sight of Krish causing you to crash into her. "Are we sure you can dance in the competition when you can hardly manage to walk without stumbling?" his voice immediately caused you to raise your head, glaring daggers as you squared up to throw your own taunt about how he just had to be oh so special and wear black even though tonight's theme was white. Unfortunately, you were beaten by Krish as he elbowed Anakin harshly in the rib, making you snicker at his grunt of pain, before walking even closer towards your best friend. "Aamani... hi," Krish breathed out, shifting his weight from one foot to another. And though you wanted to roll your eyes at how his eyes seemed to literally twinkle as he looked at your best friend, or how he always took time to call her by her full name despite all her friends calling her Manu, like he just had to say it every time to even begin to appreciate her entire being that he was so clearly besotted with, you couldn't help the small smirk that tugged on your lips as you gently pried your arm out of her death grip. (when the hell did she get so strong?) ‘Let's leave them to it, then.’ You thought to yourself.

And with that you walked away towards the small stage, knowing they'd most likely not see or hear anything besides the other person for at least the next half hour. "They're not gonna leave each other's side for the rest of the night, are they?" Ugh, Anakin. How had you forgotten? and now he was following you. Great. "Well, they wouldn't normally, but we do have to perform our dance and we're up second, which means the lovebirds will have to sacrifice at least half an hour for final practice and the performance." Hold on, why were you entertaining him? You stopped suddenly and turned to him with a scowl, "and I'll have you know I can dance very well and I-" "Is that why you're wearing red? for the dance? I thought the theme was white today," the audacity this man had to interrupt you. "Oh did you? Is that why you instead wore black?" you popped a hip with a closed fist resting on your hipbone, raising a jeering eyebrow at him, his eyes immediately drawn to the movement and indirectly your exposed midriff and then the shiny white stud in your belly button. He gulped before quickly averting his eyes to the stage behind you. "I think they announced that they're gonna be starting the competition soon," he replied instead.

Oh shit.

"Good luck" was all he said before walking away towards the audience gathering up for the performances. Oh shit, you really had to find your best friend fast.

Half an hour later with your costumes readjusted and makeup re-touched you were ready to get on stage. You weren't worried about messing up as much as you were about not keeping the same amount of energy for the next half an hour. That's right, your original plans of going mostly unnoticed as your best friend's supporting dancer for a mere 4-5 minutes went down the drain the minute she blabbered about you being a dancer as a kid to the aunty from down the block who was arranging her own group dance performance and immediately downright ordered you to join her group as well. At the time you didn't mind much but now, now you were wondering if you could pretend to sprain your ankle after your first performance to avoid the other one. I mean a whole half an hour of continuous dancing? and worse, the traitor that was your best friend wasn't in the second one and so you'd been entirely alone with a bunch of strangers during the first few practice sessions. (you knew it wasn't her fault the lady didn't ask her to join but you were sure she might have accommodated another person considering it was a big dance number) So here you were now, about 30 seconds away from getting on stage, sending a quick prayer that you don't throw up at any point considering they were pretty much back-to-back dances. As soon as you heard your group being announced the three of you walked onto the stage to get in your positions. You used the brief gap before the music started to scan the huge crowd, immediately spotting Krish almost at the very front of the audience, closest to where Manu was standing, but Anakin wasn't beside him like you expected. Your eyes continuing their scan to find him in the crowd before you even realised what you were doing. Wait, why the hell are you looking for him? You need to focus on the count before the music starts.

And as soon as the music started your body naturally moved to the rhythm and beat, a light laughter bubbling in your chest as you felt the stress melt away with each step. You had forgotten just how fun being on stage actually was, and with the atmosphere of such joy and celebration it was that much livelier. Before you know it, the performance was over, Krish walking quickly to the side of the stage as you got off, still high on the adrenaline and euphoria of performing after so long, and everything had gone smoothly too. It was hard to keep the smile off your face, even more so when you saw Manu and Krish talk animatedly at the bottom of the stairs to the stage, her head thrown back, laughing at something he said and then nodding enthusiastically with a toothy grin. Her expression changing to that of shock for a brief second as Krish immediately picks her up to twirl her around, her laughter dancing in the cold night air once again. It was only your obnoxiously loud teasing whistle that broke their bubble, though only temporarily. You had to go back on stage in five minutes and you wanted to make sure that Manu had company since you wouldn't be by her side for at least the next half an hour. Though realistically you knew it was her who wouldn't be by your side for the rest of the night. Ah, young love... or whatever.

"So now that the two of you have finally been cured of your obliviosis, have fun kiddos," you smirked, "and make sure to be safe." You winked at the pair, earning you a half-hearted angry call of your name from Manu as Krish let out an awkward nervous chuckle, burying his face into her shoulder. Aww, you had embarrassed them. "What? I'm just saying, have her back by 11." you gave a pointed look at him to which he immediately straightened up, enthusiastically nodding to your words while Manu continued to glare at you. "Back by 11? What am I in middle school?" "If you were in middle school I'd want you home by 9 miss, just what the hell sorta parents did you have?" You looked down at your watch realising your 5-minute break was nearing its end. "Okay lovebirds, I gotta go, but seriously have her home safe if you guys decide to leave the ground," you said pointing a finger at Krish, "and you," your finger pointing at Manu now, "don't forget to text me when you're leaving and when you get back home, alright?" She left his arms to quickly walk up the stairs to the top where you stood, pulling you into a bear hug as she rocked you side to side without even giving you a chance to hug her back as she held your arms at your sides, "I'll text you." She freed you from the hug to squeeze your palms in hers, "I had a lot of fun with the dance, thank you. And good luck with your next dance, sorry I won't be there to watch it, I mean we could stay till it gets over. we'll have the rest of the night anyway. Hey Krish, maybe we should stay for–"

But you immediately cut her off, "absolutely not, you've been looking forward to this day for almost a whole month now." You shook your head as you saw her open her mouth to argue, "plus I know you have that scarf you knitted for him in your bag." you smirked as her eyes went wide with surprise, not having expected you to know that. "Pulling that lovely 'oh it's a cold night, isn't it? Here, I just so happen to have this beautiful scarf that I definitely didn't knit just for you, here, let me wrap it around your beautiful neck. Oh no, you don't have to give it back to me at the end of the night, I have a matching one at home that I totally didn't plan as a couple’s thing, no seriously you can keep it' on him? There couldn't be a better opportunity." You laughed as her ears became bright red, "I hate you and your Nancy Drew observation skills." she mumbled out of puffed cheeks before immediately pulling you into another hug. "I love you. Good luck." "Thanks, I love you." In the end, you were about 2 minutes late to your dance and the aunty's scary face as she hurriedly signalled you to get into your position made you cringe on the inside, but oh well whatever, there were so many people you doubted that anyone had noticed there was supposed to be another dancer. You were here now anyway. You were halfway through the dance, your back turned to the audience when you felt a sharp gaze on you. Weird, there were about 100 people watching you, why did you feel this one particular stare stand out? It was only when you completed the circle to turn to face the audience again that you immediately connect gazes with the sharp eyes you had felt on you. Anakin. He was standing at the very back, close to the water coolers and refreshment tables, leaning on one of the empty tables with his arms crossed. His gaze never leaving yours. For a second your thoughts drifted and you were annoyed at how good he looked in the black shimmery kurta, though the top 3 buttons being left unbuttoned was so unnecessarily extra. The sleeves folded over his forearms that stretched the fabric, his collarbones standing out from the open collar. Such a slut. But damn did he look fine. Wait, what the hell? Focus, focus, focus. You couldn't lose count mid-step. And tripping right now would mess up everyone's steps since it was a circular movement. Why the hell would you trip over him anyway? Ugh. And so you focused back on your steps, continuing to feel that strange unwavering gaze on you for the rest of your dance.

Half an hour later, you were entirely done with the dance competition. Your feet hurt, your stomach was grumbling every few seconds and you were sure you'd be getting a headache from being so close to the speakers for so long. Thankfully, the emcee had announced a short break for refreshments and such, before the rest of the dances and then the final event to end the night — the dandiya dance. Were you positively exhausted and maybe even getting real tired of all the dancing and loud music? Most definitely. But Manu had texted you saying they'd be back for the final dandiya dance and you were really hoping to get to dance at least once with her, you know, outside the competition, just for funsies sort of stuff. So your irritation? Nothing some tasty snacks and maybe a cold drink couldn't solve. That was until an unfortunately familiar face came into your view as he plopped into the seat right next to yours at the circular table. Not the two other tables that were entirely empty (wasn't he supposed to be some emo loner who preferred to sulk in a corner?) or even the chair on the other side of the table (though you wondered if having him directly in your line of sight would make it worse). But no, he just had to sit right next to you with his stupid pretty eyes purposefully not meeting yours and his annoying plump lips innocently wrapping around the spoon with a piece of gulab jamun on it. He didn't even like sweets.

"Um— what the hell?" "What?" he looked at you with doe eyes rounded in innocence, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Nothing, never mind," you were too tired and too hungry to start anything right now and what would you even ask, 'Why the hell are you sitting next to me?' 'didn't know there was some rule telling me where I can sit' is what he'd say, maybe roll his eyes at you, the usual stuff. So you continued eating your puff pastry in silence. Until you just had to ask, "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You tried to make your voice sound as non-judgemental as possible, you were only curious after all. "And who told you that?" he raised an eyebrow at you. Truthfully, nobody. But you had noticed the way he always avoided the dessert table at parties and functions, the way he only drank his coffee black; not even your best friend's infamous black forest cake that she had made for Krish's birthday a few months back had tempted him to even grab a Yolanda-approved bite. Yolanda would certainly be proud. Obviously, this had nothing to do with you observing him particularly, you just observed a lot of things around you, and he just very unfortunately happened to be around you a lot, being Krish's roommate and 'brotha from anotha motha' or whatever they said. And yet, here he was eating a freaking gulab jamun that was absolutely dripping with the sugary-est syrup. Did he hit his head on the way or something?

"Did you hit—" "I ran into Krish and Aamani, she told me to give this to you," he interrupted you yet again, turning to face you and pulling out a long silver chain-like thing, which upon a closer look you realised with an elated gasp, was the missing half of your lucky pair of payal, the one you'd been looking for everywhere earlier that evening. "I thought these came in pairs," it was a question from the tone with which he said it, but his eyes remained fixated on the jewellery in his hands, thumb running over the delicate silver with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. You lifted the hem of your skirt a little, head tilting down to point at your left ankle, "they do. I just couldn't find the other one." You shook your head, going back to taking a sip of your drink, "I like the sound they make when you dance, it's fun, so I thought ek hai toh ek hi sahi," catching his questioning gaze you translated, "if there's only one then so be it, I hardly ever get to wear these anyway." You shrugged, "Manu must've found it later and forgotten to give it to me earlier. I think their dating honeymoon phase is gonna be worse than their not-dating honeymoon phase" You rolled your eyes affectionately, expecting him to make a teasing remark too or at least give you that amused smirk. Instead you saw him give an almost imperceptible yet decisive nod, quickly sliding off his chair to kneel in front of you. "What are you-" He gently lifted your right foot onto his folded knee, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp on your anklet. Your stomach fluttered as you felt the warmth of his hands on your cold bare ankle, and you were sure if you still had that sip of cold drink in your mouth, your lungs would be burning from snorting it down the wrong pipe, and definitely not because he might've stolen your breath. His fingers skimmed in a barely there touch down your foot. Till now, his gaze had been entirely focused on clasping the jewellery but now that he was done he lifted his head, looking directly into your eyes from his still kneeling position, your faces a few inches apart. This time you could feel your heart burn. Dang, maybe you should cut down on the greasy food and drinks. His gaze briefly shifted to your lips, but then he quickly got up, dusting off his pants, picking up his empty gulab jamun cup, throwing a quick, "I'mgonnagothrowthis" over his shoulder and then he was gone. He quickly disappeared into the crowds while you still sat there, entirely motionless. Your mind blank except for the phantom feeling from his feather touch on your skin.

It was finally time for the last round of dancing. You had run into Manu and Krish while carrying your trash to the bin, the emptiness of your thoughts completely overthrown by the excited shout of your name. You were surprised they had spotted you first, considering all the doped-up lovey smiles and heart-eyes you noticed when they walked to you. The brief hand squeeze and wide-eyed glance from her let you know you were in for an entire night of dramatic recalling of every detail of their evening and you could only shake your head with a fond smirk. As you all walked back towards the dance area, Manu spoke up, "Oh, did you get the payal I'd given Anakin to give to you?" she looked down at your feet though they were covered with your skirt. You supposed she heard them jingle, the sound louder and more noticeable now that you were wearing both of them. But her question brought back that unwanted memory from earlier in the evening instead, and you fought real hard to keep your face from heating up, inhaling a deep breath as inconspicuously as possible, "uh– yeah, he um.. he did." you nodded your head a little too aggressively, "I mean I got it, yeah." Lightly lifting your skirt to show your pair of anklets safely secured, by the most gentle hands you'd ever felt. This time you felt your ears undeniably heat up. 'What the hell? Why were you so fixated on that one thing? It was nothing. It's not like he was sliding a wedding ring on you or something.' Though for some reason, that thought only made your breath stutter as you felt the lava-like blood now rushing to your cheeks. Ugh, get a grip, get. a. grip. And since you were too busy trying to appear totally normal and shoot the butterflies in your stomach dead, you missed the mischievous look that Manu shot Krish as she gave a quick squeeze to his hand in hers. "Should we really have been spying on them like that? And worse, taking photos of them without them knowing?" and though his question was whispered through a sigh he squeezed her hand right back.

"Oh, hush. 10 years from now when they have cute little munchkins running around, I'll have proof to show that I was the one that set their ship sailing." she answered with a smirk. "You've thought about their kids? 10 years from now??" he raised his brows with an incredulous laugh. "Of course. I think about everything." Even the things that you were too practical to consider. Your words, not hers. 'Blind' is what she would call it. You may have the observation skills rivalling that of the most infamous detectives, but she had The Vision. And she knew in her guts that you two were just meant to end up together. "Oh yeah? Then what have you thought about our 10 years? We got 'cute little munchkins' in our cards too?" he tossed an arm around her shoulders, snuggling her close to him to teasingly tickle at her exposed waist. "Mmm, for now our cards hold a very very important mission." She answered and he sighed again, knowing exactly where this was heading. "Let me guess, mission 'get your best friend and my best friend together for the last dance to recreate another Bollywood-style romantic scene?" he raised a brow, coming to a stop as they reached the edge of the canopy of lights and fabrics. "It's only been a few hours and you've already gained the boyfriend-telepathy skills. Impressive." She wiggled her brows at him while turning around in his arms, "I need you to find Anakin and somehow get him to agree to dance." Sensing his hesitation she quickly continued, "I know it won't be easy, but you'll manage. Once we get them both here we need to make sure they're on opposite sides of the circle so that when the final song comes they'll be paired together" she finished. "You really have thought this through, huh? I can't guarantee that he'll agree to dance, I mean it's Anakin we're talking about," noticing her pleading pout he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, "but I'll try."

With that, he left and she walked to where you were standing, finishing up talking to some old lady, no doubt held hostage to some good ol’ ‘I knew you since you were thisss little’ talk for the past few minutes that the two had spent whispering their plan, but she quickly patted your cheek and left. "So, tonight's the exclusive dandiya night," she wiggled her brows like it was supposed to mean something, it was. You laughed, not understanding her implication. "What about it?" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "it's dandiya dumbass. As in, you know, pairs dancing," she continued when she realised your light bulb was still dim. "Oh," you hadn't thought about that, too caught up in the dance competition to care about the other stuff. "Yeah, ‘oh.’ So, who you gonna choose?" "Um...you?" though it came out unsure. "I appreciate the sentiment babe, I really do. I would choose you too–" You raised a brow at that, "but?" "But'" she made a show of dragging out the word then throwing her arms out to her sides, "look at the crowd around you, there's so many kids our age, there's quite a few guys our age too." And finally you caught onto her line of thoughts, narrowing your eyes you shook your head. "Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight, well I mean you're settled, so I'm not doing this tonight." But the fates seemed to be on her side that night, as she noticed Krish and Anakin talking a few paces away towards the outskirts of the canopy while you both stood at the centre, you hadn't noticed them yet but she could see Anakin shaking his head in a firm no as well. Gosh why were the both of you so difficult? But she also noticed another opportunity walk towards you, and a hopeful scenario played out in her head, courtesy of The Vision. And so she immediately got to work.

"Hey AJ!" she called out to the guy just about to walk by you a few steps away, "didn't you mention that you don't have a partner for tonight's dandiya?" Your eyes widened and you subtly tried to pinch her to stop her from saying the next words but it was too late, "My best friend here also doesn't have a partner, would you mind pairing up with her if you haven't already found someone else?" In speaking to the guy, both of you had turned to fully face him, so she couldn't see Anakin’s reaction anymore. She hoped he had heard what she had just asked this guy. He had. While the two had been devising their plan off to the side, you had been standing at the centre of the canopy taking time to clear your mind and cool yourself. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the gorgeous lights and colourful fabrics that hung above you, mesmerised by how pretty they looked standing out against the dark nighht sky beyond. And though you may never know, Anakin had spotted you right then, standing there in your pretty red ghagra, face tilted to look above you, and it had looked like one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen, you had looked so pretty with all the lights gleaming in your eyes. And though he was too far to see it, he knew your gaze held that golden twinkle that shone every time you were genuinely happy, though he had hardly been on the receiving end of it. So he had always observed from afar, just as he was doing tonight. His thoughts had been interrupted by the movement of someone approaching him in his periphery. It turned out to be Krish, who clapped him on the back as a greeting and then asked him if he had eaten anything to which Anakin's mind flashed to the almost nauseating sweetness of the tooth-rotting dessert he'd had, immediately followed by the image of the delicate jewellery around your ankle and he quickly shut the door on that thought, instead answering with a single nod.

"Good, good 'cause you're gonna need some energy for a while." Anakin only raised an inquisitive eyebrow in response, while Krish thought of the best, most convincing way to... well, to convince him. "Y/N needs a partner..." "Okay…?" "For the dance, I mean. She needs a partner for the dandiya, she doesn't have one..." he trailed off again, should he just be straightforward with it? "It's you." "What?" Anakin's head snapped to look at him like he was insane. "It's you. You're going to dance with her." "What the fuck? No, I'm not?" it came out as a question because he was baffled as to how his own best friend could say something as dumb as that. Dancing? him? That's fucking funny. "Yes, you are. She needs a partner. You need a partner. The solution is obvious." "Like hell it is. I don't need a partner, 'cause I'm not fucking dancing." He shook his head decisively. "You want to though. You know you want to dance with her." Krish said with a pointed look. "And just what the hell made you think that?" "I'm your best friend, Ani. Do you think I'm blind or—" "Hey AJ!" Aamani's voice had carried over to the two of them, halting their conversation as their attention was now on the two of you, though your backs were turned to them. Aamani's voice was somehow loud enough that they got the gist of it, she had asked this AJ to be your partner, and from the way he walked over to the two of you, your best friend introducing you to each other, him shaking your hand and the dazzling smile you gave him in return, Anakin felt an irrational sorts of a burning pit in his stomach. "Well, looks like the deal's done. She's got her fucking partner." He pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning on, walking away. "Wait! Dude! Where you go—" "Out." and with that he quickly walked towards the back exit of the ground, walking through the gates and out into the cold night. But he had been wrong. AJ hadn't yet agreed to dance with you, or rather Aamani hadn't given him the chance to, stalling him by telling you that he was studying the same thing as you, though he went to a different university. She had been buying time, hoping that any second now, Anakin and his impulsiveness would come barging and say that you've already got a partner. But time was running short as the conversation between the two of you came back to the topic of tonight's dance. "So, you don't have a partner for the dandiya either?" she heard him ask. Where the hell was Anakin? But her movie-like vision for his entrance onto the scene immediately shattered when she turned to see what was holding him, only to see Anakin nowhere in sight and her boyfriend standing alone with a small frown on his face. Catching his eyes she sent him a questioning look, to which he only shook his head dejectedly. And she knew her plan had failed. For her, at least. Because when she turned back around, she saw you agreeing with AJ to meet up under the canopy before the start of the dance before he excused himself, mentioning something about helping move the chairs or whatever. You too said something about meeting up with one of your older hometown friends you'd run into right before the dance competition. You'd promised to come find her when you were free to catch up on things. And so you left as well.

But at that point, Manu could only think about how wrong this was. She knew it was her who had asked AJ to dance with her best friend, so she couldn't blame him. But Anakin – Anakin she could blame. And she could also just about drag his ass back here to ask him what the hell was he doing? With the way the whole payal scene had gone, and knowing Anakin's possessive nature, she was almost 100% sure he'd metaphorically sweep you off your feet (before literally sweeping you off your feet during the dance). So why the hell was her best friend going to be dancing with a guy she was (frustratingly) getting along with instead?

Krish had walked his way back to stand behind her, but not even his warmth and the comforting palm he ran up and down her bare arm could stop the disappointed frown pulling on her lips. She turned to her boyfriend with a concerned expression, "Did I just accidentally push my best friend towards the wrong guy, with the right guy storming off to who knows where?"

a/n: so.... there's 4 more nights left... do you think they'll ever get their dance? 👀

A/n: Thank you all so much if you spent your time on this trash wreckage fuelled by finals stress and unfulfilled dreams </3

Would love to hear feedback on this one! Don't hesitate to send me any ques or just anything that comes to mind relating to our dearest love-haters and the overzealous matchmakers ;)

#miel works #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars #hayden christensen x reader #slow burn #anakin imagine #anakin fluff #hayden christensen #fanfic #fanfiction #desi reader #payal universe

98 notes · View notes