#but my teenage self needed that win | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bahrtofane · 1 year ago

Text

husband Jude headcannons

jude just really really enjoys married life

Word count - 2.3K+

Watch it - i got carried away sorry guys, proposal lore?? insanely sappy, even by my standards

—--

He's not a fan of you being known as his, rather he's your husband. Always correcting people during interviews and giving you the spotlight. Even when you shy away, not knowing where to look or what to say. He's always there, a gentle hand on your knee rubbing circles as he nods for you to continue.

Every red carpet he wants to match, doesn’t care how big or small the event is. Gotta be a way you two look look a pair

His fav is when you wear exactly the same thing so there’s no way to confuse anything for what it really is hehe

Bouncing around while you get ready together, helping you get your shoes on while he tries his best to stand still while you fix his tie

“Look okay?” he asks, head tilted

You rub his arm, “you look great.”

And he smiles wide, giving you pecks all over while you giggle, trying to shoo him away from you and closer to the door. your ride is waiting, but he doesn’t care. pouting for just one more kiss. please ?

All his socials turn into your personal fan page, a big fat married in every bio, ring and all

He has more posts about you then his actual job

His teammates poke fun at it, “when are you gonna post us huh?”

He just rolls his eyes,”when I marry you i’ll think about it”

And that’s that

You're the first he runs to post a match, greeting you with the silly hand shake you perfected years ago. You think you could do it in your sleep at this rate. You came up with it ages ago when you kissed him after practice, playing with his fingers till he came up with the idea, and you with the actual hand shake.

You're his biggest supporter, and him likewise. In every and anything you do, give him pompoms and he'd be your personal cheerleader at this point.

He just likes to have you at games. Waving obnoxiously while you tell him to pose. And he does, every time, sending hearts your way. He dedicates his goals your way. The kisses he would send the crowd in his youth now only go your way where you catch them like a teenager.

You see complications of it everywhere, he thinks it's endearing. He makes you watch them together on the living room tv while you grimace

“My face looks so weird there, oh my god.”

He flicks your arm, “you look great shush. Ha that was during el clasico, ah good times.”

You roll your eyes but snuggle up against him anyway.

One of your favorite past times btw, nothing he loves better than a lazy morning in with you in his arms while he hits snooze on every alarm.

He tries to cook, with his stupid kiss the chef apron he got just for you. but he will need help, which you gladly give. You end up eating on the couch, covered in pillows watching cheesy shows. You've watched keeping up with the kardashians too many times to count and he still laughs out loud every time.

Jude is soft and sweet when he's not forced into a picture perfect smile and self 24/7. He's a silly guy, always trying to make you laugh. Teasing is his love language by the way.

But he's still sweet, leaving notes around your house for you to find when he has to leave for away games. Hearts and smiley faces littering every inch of the paper. Some frowny faces when he knows he'll miss you extra.

He likes bringing you to family events and bragging about how cool you are, but everyone already loves you as is, he just likes to brag. Look at how cool the love of my life is everyone, I am sooo lucky you guys look look.

Jobe has rolled his eyes far too many times, but he's happy to see his brother so happy. Plus you guys threw a fantastic wedding. A win is a win.

When you can't be there he facetimes you every second he possibly can. Blowing kisses when he has to go.

“Judes been complaining all day I hope you know,” Aurélien pops his head into the screen.

You snort, “ hello to you too Aurélien.”

He gives you a wave before ruffling the top of Judes hair as he pouts, fixing it just how he likes again, “they just don't get it,” he sighs dramatically.

You laugh, “sure baby, sure.”

You make sure to keep up with the match the best you can, texting him live reactions, even if you know he won't see them till later. He likes them all the same.

Your name on his phone is a simple "mine" with a bunch of heart emojis, the contact pic is one of the two of you together on vacation, smiling with your faces squished together while laying in the sand

It makes him smile every time. he thinks you’re the cutest

He's a big fan of nicknames, weather its a version of your first name, or just a good ole fashion baby. He rarely uses your actual name. He called you something so insane like pooki bear in public once and you have yet to let him live it down.

"in a restaurant was crazy," you squint at him.

He only giggles, "but it was soo funny baby come on."

Speaking of restaurants, this guy loves a good date night

Gigdy as he comes down the hall in his pjs, grinning while showing you the new reservations, it’s your fav place !

Every anniversary he somehow finds a way to outdo himself, don't ask, because in truth he doesn't even know how he pulls it off, but anything for you. Anything.

Even if it means hunting down the stuffed animal you had as a kid and couldn't find after you lost it in your couch cushions. He finds it, after months and months of searching, making Jobe help him look, it comes in the mail and he has to get creative to get you out of the house and away from the mail the day it's supposed to come.

It gets neatly wrapped and placed on your shared bed the morning of, surrounded by a collection of other gifts, your favorite flowers, and a cheesy note that you always end up crying at.

The look on your face makes it all worth it, when you tackle him in a bone crushing hug, tumbling into the covers in a tangle of legs while you laugh in between sniffles, he loves you. Oh how he loves you

It's been a tradition to end the night with the very place he proposed, his home, now yours.

He doesnt think he could forget it even if he tried. It was a whirlwind of a day. Picture this:

He's lost all his black socks, his (and your) favorite body wash just spilled all over the shower, his hair looks awful ( he got a haircut that morning), his cologne isn't where he left it, and the private chef he hired isnt replying. All while you're not even awake yet.

He calls his mom because what else are you supposed to do when you're set to propose and everything is going wrong.

She only chuckles softly over the phone, “calm down jude, just breathe. You'll find your things, just take a breather and come back to things with a clear head okay?”

So he does. Sitting on his bed, towel still on, frowning. He chooses to instead pat himself dry, get dressed, and give himself a pep talk in the floor length mirror at the corner of his room.

Turns out his mom was right, things fix themself for the most part, his socks are stuck at the bottom of the dryer, his hair isn't as bad as he thought, he finds a better cologne in his collection, and a perfect body cream. It's gonna be a good day.

He finishes the last of the day of prep, getting fancy candles, a lighter, and greeting the decorator. Yes he hired a decorator.

It's nothing over the top, just little changes to make his home look a little softer, changing out the curtains, placing lace table cloth with details in your favorite color. The main event is his second living room that gets covered in an arch of your favorite flowers, gentle curling to just kiss the top of the new antique chandelier that will be holding the fancy candles too. He hopes you like it. He really really hopes you like it.

He's had this planned for ages, since the moment he first met you he thinks.

When you greet him with a silly good morning text he only grows oh so fond of you, excited to see you. He told you it was a fancy dinner at his place. A change of pace from the resurates. Both of you prefer a much more intimate night in then cameras shoved into your face while a hundred people all yell a hundred things while you're trying to chew your food.

So you get ready, dress up and make it for dinner. When you see the familiar face of the chef, Karlos, you give him a wave and get seated. Noticing the new table cloth but you don't say anything. You don't want to be wrong so early into the night.

Jude comes in, nervous as a school boy as he takes your hand for a quick peek, running around like a maniac back and forth. He looks nice, in a signature all black suit, and smelling amazing per usual.

Dinner is amazing, full of your favorite courses and Jude is jittery in his seat.

“You okay?”

He nods, a little too fast, “oh yeah. I am. Don't worry.”

You raise a brow but dont push, thanking Karlos for the amazing meal as he cleans up and heads out for the night.

Jude gets up, telling you to stay put while he'll be righttt back. Don't worry, remember!

He comes back, unable to meet your eyes while he gives you his hand. You take it, sliding out of your seat and following him down the hall. There's flower petals on the floor now, you look at him, but he looks anywhere but at you, chewing his cheek.

He leads you to the second living room, where the furniture has been cleared out. Replaced by a walkway of flowers and candles, leading up to where an arch of your favorite flowers hugs the curtain, new ones.

Gently pulled back to reveal the floor to ceiling windows that give way to his yard. And the most gorgeous sunset you have ever seen. A chandelier hangs above you, decorated with more flowers, and the most ornate candles and bulbs you have ever seen.

Your eyes begin to water before he even gets down on one knee, his lip wobbles, holding your hand the whole time as he confesses every little moment and reason for his love.

He loves you, he adores you. You're- youre everything. Truly and fully. You're the sunlight that kisses his skin, the stars he wishes to touch, to know, he yearns for you. Years to know you in your entirety, till he knows nothing else but you. For your name to only fully know his lips, for only he will fully know you. He sees no other, he knows no other. He wants- no needs, to give himself as he is.

You see him, see him as more than just Jude Belingham. You see what others can not, will not. You see him, you know him. You know him better than he knows himself most days. You've seen all there is to see, all that makes him who he is. You know his stupid sandwich order at the place you hate but keep going to because you know how much he loves it.

You sit in freezing weather for the full game just to make sure you don't miss a second of him. The first to congratulate him, the first to mourn with him, the first to sooth his aches and pains. You're the face he looks for in a crowd, you're the first person he calls when anything happens.

And you love him with such ferocity it amazes him.

You're full crying at this point, fat tears rolling down your cheeks till you can barely see him, and he finally gets down on one knee, fishing out a small velvet box from his inner pocket, opening it with shaky hands.

And he whispers, “will you marry me?”

You fall next to him, sobbing into his shoulder while you repeat yes over and over. He cries with you, till you're both laughing from pure joy.

Who better to spend the rest of your life with then the man who loves you so?

Telling his family is the best part. You have them over for what was supposed to be a quick lunch, turned dinner, and you break the news at dessert, showing off your ring while they all gasp.

They pile you into the biggest hug, smiles so wide they hurt and you laugh, you're going to get married! You think they just might be more excited than you are.

Wedding planning comes and goes both so fast and so slow. Youre so excited you can't wait, and yet every step of the way seems like it takes excruciatingly long.

Your wedding planner tries her best, bless her soul, but you want it to be completely and utterly perfect. Down to the types of chairs at the venue.

Jude lets you have your way for the most part, chiming in now and again, he trusts you fully. Knowing you're going to make it the best regardless.

Leading up to the big day you think you just might pass out from stress and never be seen again, but the almost year of planning pays off, and you're married!

The honeymoon is spent traveling all over while jude is wide-eyed, unable to believe he's married to you of all people.

The press catches on soon after, even if your wedding was small and intimate. News comes out one way or another.

Jude only responds with a picture of you two slow dancing among your family and friends, captioned, “all you need to know.” and he pins it to every social media page.

What a man huh?

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insidemyrottenbrain · 5 months ago

Note

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company.

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact.

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face.

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows. “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

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ceesimz · 10 months ago

Text

panna

Not my best work, but it was fun to write nonetheless. FYI: panna means nutmeg, but it's also a playground/street football game where it is either a 1v1 or basically a huge free-for-all and you had to get as many nutmegs/pannas as possible - great memories :)

Living with Leah was a much different experience than you thought it would be.

The first time you met her she was a little shy but the more you got to know her, the more enamouring she was and before long you had completely fallen for her, as had she for you. Each date, you peeled back another layer of each other's personality and you saw a side to her that was inexplicably softer than the sometimes rather grumpy, stoic demeanor she had for her career. It was easy to like her, adore her, and eventually love her, and you made sure to offer her a safe space for her to let go in when she was away from the view of the public. She did the same for you, allowing you to switch off when you needed to in her presence. Ultimately, the relationship was so rewarding and comforting, it seemed almost too good to be true. In moments of self-doubt and insecurity, you felt like you were just waiting for the shoe to drop.

And when you moved into your new house together, that shoe did indeed drop, but in a way you didn't expect.

As time went on of you sharing the same space, an extremely irritating side of Leah came out in full force. You had seen glimpses of it so far of course, and it never failed to make you laugh, but living with her? It was next level.

Leah seemed to embody the nature of that of an annoying younger sibling or a tiresome teenager who had a maddening addiction to just being absolutely infuriating. When she was in a certain type of giddy mood, this habit seemed to reach new heights. You loved it, but sometimes it felt like you were going to explode with the aggravation you felt towards her.

You know that saying of if you don't react, they'll get bored and stop? Yeah, that didn't apply to Leah.

"Leah, I'm trying to cook dinner, put the football away please." You started out by asking her politely as you manned the pasta in the pot on the hob, your girlfriend doing kick-ups by the fridge.

"I'm alright here, babe. I won't get in your way, swear. Just wanna be with you, and I am bored." That's kind of sweet, you guess.

Deciding that the pasta can survive without constant surveillance, you step away from it to unload the dishwasher but clearly Leah doesn't agree with that.

"Nah, forget that, I'll do it later. Come here, one versus one." She grins, quickly flicking the ball between each foot.

"And why would I do that as someone who doesn't even know which foot to use?" You raise an eyebrow and stand across from her with your hands on your hips.

"Bit of fun, babe, lighten up. Let's do a game of panna." She teases, passing the ball to you. "You first."

"What is panna?" You frown, confused.

"Just try to nutmeg me." Leah rolls her eyes, though she knows your knowledge of football lacks compared to her as someone who lives and breathes the sport and has done all her life.

You squint your eyes sceptically at her, before slowly inching towards her and attempting to dribble the ball the way you've seen her do it probably a million times. However, as soon as you get close, she removes any gap between her feet and instead stands like a penguin.

"How am I supposed to nutmeg you when you stand like that?" You scoff, but she just smirks smugly at you and shrugs.

"No one likes a quitter."

"No one likes a stubborn girlfriend that forces her girlfriend to play a game that's impossible to win." You hit back, and a smile tugs at your lips as you see Leah suppress a laugh.

"Fine, let me go against you." She steals the ball from your feet in the blink of an eye, and now the cards are stacked impossibly against you.

"Right, 'cause this is totally fair."

You roll your eyes but nevertheless prepare to defend your pride against the decorated footballer that stands before you. This little stand off lasts all of two minutes as Leah performs as many standing tricks as she can - it's hard not to laugh because, despite the talent she's portraying, it just looks like the result of a button-spamming FIFA player.

Finally though, you gain the confidence to lunge at her to get the ball back, but Leah of course spots this immediately, and flip-flaps the ball straight between your legs.

"Panna! You just got your shit rocked, baby." She celebrates as if her performance wasn't as easy as stealing candy from a baby. You watch as she cheers quietly to herself under her breath and dances like a fool. If the world could see her now, you think.

Feeling slightly humbled, you go back to your place at the stove, finding comfort in your cooking skills at least.

...This oddly felt like you were playing into some kind of stereotype.

"Put the ball away now, please." You tell her once more, but as ever her ego takes no prisoners.

"Aw, is someone's ego hurt?" Leah pouts pitifully at you, her hands falling to your waist when she stands behind you. You weren't having it though, not when she had humiliated you purely for her own ego.

"No, I just have many dangerous weapons in my arsenal here and I wouldn't want the leader of England to come to any harm." You return the patronising pout on her face, swatting away her hands and wagging the pasta ladle you had just pulled from the boiling pan in her face.

"Alright, message heard." She walks away with her hands surrendered.

For the next five minutes that the spaghetti spends boiling, you both exist civilly in the same area whilst doing different things. You're preparing for dinner as Leah is of course dilly-dallying with the football again. Each punt against the ball as she does kick-ups or ridiculous little tricks slowly grinds your gears, until she eventually begins occupying floor space in the kitchen that she obviously knows you'll use.

"Move, please, I need to drain this pasta." You say initially, a bit of bite to it but not as much as you easily could reach. However, she doesn't move, and instead gets in the way even more. "I have a pot full of boiling water here, move!"

You shoved past her where she was messing around with the ball near the sink, a shit-eating grin on her face which its only purpose is to infuriate you more. She does move out the way though, lifting the ball up into her arms with the foot, but she only steps so far away.

"What are we having?" She asked in an all too innocent voice, watching as you drained the pasta - the aggression you did this simple task with probably should have been a warning sign to her. But that had never stopped her before.

"Spaghetti, what does it look like?" You shake your head at her. "And you will eat it this time."

You were yet another unfortunate victim to Leah's limited and fussy palate.

"Not my fault you used a rank sauce last time. You better have gotten a new one." She grumbled like a picky toddler, starting her kick-ups again right in front of the next cupboard you need to get into.

"Put that fucking ball away before I stab a knife into it." You snap, pushing her out of the way with one hand and getting out the aforementioned new sauce. "See? Is this better for you, princess?"

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, sweetheart." Leah smirks, referencing the sassy tone and mocking pet name you used for her as you shoved the jar into her face to prove a point.

"I'd like to see you try." You scoff, heading back over to the stove.

She falls suspiciously silent as you put the spaghetti and sauce into the pan. You try to pay no notice, watching out of your peripheral vision as she slowly makes her way back over with her hands behind her back.

"What are y-"

You're disrupted by her kicking the ball in between your legs, it clunking scarily loud against the glass door of the oven.

"Another one! Call me Ronal-fucking-dhino!" Leah laughs giddily, scampering away like a naughty child.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself so that you didn't chase after her with one of the multiple weapons within reach around you.

However, sticking true to your threat, you grabbed a knife from the draining board beside the sink and sunk it into the ball that had been the bane of your existence for the past however long it's been in Leah's possession. It wasn't a sentimental object, you wouldn't do that to her, thankfully it was just a ball she had picked up from the supermarket one day she had been determined to tag along as you did the grocery shop. The poor thing let out its final breath as the air puffed out of it, a sign you had won the battle. With a slightly manic grin, you went on making the rest of the meal as if nothing had happened.

Luckily you were able to cook the dinner without any further childish interruptions, though you did have half a mind to pour the whole shaker of salt onto her portion. But no, you can rise above this kind of behaviour. A household prank war against this woman-child could lead to an unfortunate break-up. Though you did just get an adrenaline rush from murdering a harmless football, so maybe it was already on.

"Leah, come here and sort your cheese out." You shout into the apartment, not a clue where she had gone off too.

Although, you forgot the scene she would walk into, only realising when a sharp gasp sounds through the room.

"What... the hell did you do?" Leah whispers in a dramatically heartbroken voice, kneeling to the ground and delicately picking up the punctured ball. You turned and rolled your eyes at the sight that met you, forever astonished at the theatrics this girl pulls off.

"Better a ball than your head." You mutter under your breath. "Sort your dinner out, I'm not being blamed for ruining it this time."

You took your bowl and walked past where she was still on the ground, nudging her shoulder with your knee as you went by to push her over. Okay, maybe you did have tendencies similar to hers.

Leah joins you on the couch a few moments later, an embarrassingly scarce amount of parmesan in her bowl as she slumps down next to you with a groan.

"I'm not watching this right now, I don't want to participate in a fucking reading lesson whilst I'm eating!" Leah complains at the choice of TV show you'd picked for this evening: Narcos.

"Tough, I cooked so I choose." You shrugged and pressed play, the characters immediately talking in thick and fast Spanish that, despite the English subtitles, is too much for your poor girlfriend to deal with right now.

"That's not fair, you always cook." She grumbles, stabbing her fork aggressively into her food. You pause the show at that statement, turning to look at her with a face that conveyed pure and unfiltered rage.

"Did you seriously just complain that I always cook?" You question in a frighteningly passive tone. Leah glances at you from the corner of her eye, not daring to turn away from her bowl. "Really, Leah?

She grimaces at the use of her name when you probe her for an answer. All day, she had been toeing a fine line, pressing all the wrong buttons, and pushing her luck with you. This time though, she'd really done it.

"Watch whatever you want, I'm not eating with you." You stand up from your seat on the sofa and storm away to the bedroom, leaving a glum and regretful Leah in the lounge who does in fact change the show on TV.

Was it an overreaction? In an hour, you'll probably think so. But right now you couldn't bear to look at the woman downstairs. You both eat, sad and alone, in your separate rooms to think over your actions.

In fact, no, you didn't overreact. You were entirely in your right to get angry over a throw-away statement that Leah had made just to win one back against you. Her immature attitude and competitive nature took over and she made an unnecessary comment about an action you not only enjoyed doing anyway, but enjoyed doing for her. So, whilst Leah thought back on how she should have behaved better, verbalised herself better, you were satisfied with your actions.

When there was a quiet knock at the bedroom door twenty minutes later as you lay in bed on your phone, bowl on the floor and meal happily consumed, you gave no answer. Leah came in anyway, a sheepish and guilty look on her face.

"May I come in?" She asks shyly, only her head in view.

"As long as you promise to not be a complete arsehole to me anymore." You grumble, not looking at her.

"I promise, love. I am sorry. I have things to make up for my utterly stupid behaviour." She says, and that does pique your interest.

You grunt in affirmation, and the door opens to reveal her holding a few items: your favourite candle from the lounge, a hot chocolate, your favourite cookies, and the oil you often used to massage Leah whenever her muscles were giving her some discomfort.

"Maybe I could give you a massage, babe? I am sorry. I appreciate all you do for me, I was just being an idiot before who didn't know when to stop. I love that you cook for me, and eating dinner with you at the end of a long day is one of my favourite things, genuinely. I'm really sorry for making that stupid comment, I am." Leah tells you softly, an air of desperation to her voice. Through all the times she loves to piss you off, nothing made her feel worse than when you truly got angry at her.

"You must really be sorry if you're letting me eat in bed." You comment quietly, referring to the pack of cookies in her arms. She smiles and nods, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

"I am sorry. Get crumbs everywhere if you want, get your revenge." She replies and a weight lifts off her chest when you giggle slightly. "I love you, truly, madly, deeply. I'm so grateful for you and everything you do."

You reluctantly smile up at her from where you lay, then roll your eyes and hold your arms out for her.

"Come here, you massive idiot." You mutter, watching amused as she rushes to put her things on the bedside table before diving on top of you. "You're a wanker, number six."

Leah laughs into the pillow at the reference, nodding her head in agreement. She turns her face into your neck and places a few light, apologetic kisses there.

"I am." She murmurs, sighing a little and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "I wouldn't appreciate it if you started shouting that at my football games though."

"I don't appreciate you reciting a ninety's song in your apology though. Get some original material next time." You hit back, a smug grin on your face as she laughs again.

"I'll sing it for you if you want." Leah offers, voice slightly muffled by your neck as your body shakes with laughter.

"I think that would reverse all your efforts." You say, her humming in agreement. "Now, did you say something about a massage?"

The next morning, Leah believes all is forgiven from the previous night. But just to be sure, she hops out of bed since she's the first to wake up and decides to bring you a coffee in bed before you both were due to go out for breakfast with friends. It's a delight you welcome immediately, sighing contently when the hot mug is placed into your hands as you sit up against the headboard. Leah joins you in bed again, copying your position, and wraps an arm around you as well as kissing your forehead. She mumbles a few more words of apology into your ear as you drink, ensuring that you know how grateful she is for everything you do. You also welcome that with open arms, happy to hear her feelings towards you when she's not being an irritating little pest.

She watches you the whole time you get dressed for the day, and there's a soft smile on her face as she stood in the bathroom doorway whilst you put your earrings in, the finishing touch of your outfit. You mirror the smile she wears when she steps forward and wraps her arms around your waist, murmuring endless compliments into your ear that send shivers down your spine. It's a sickeningly sweet moment, it would rot any witnesses' teeth had they been there to see it, but it's perfect and it's the couple that you recognise rather than the bickering one from the previous night.

You exit the bathroom together, your fingers intertwined as Leah leads you down the stairs. Though, just as you're about to leave, you spot a smudge mark on your cheek from your mascara in the mirror by the door, so you stop to fix it. Leah, with the patience of a toddler, somehow finds yet another ball and it's one you can't stab this time since it's a Euros 2022 ball. Even though she has just done her hair, begging you to straighten it for her, she starts doing headers. And that's where the morning takes a turn for the worst.

When you'd finished fixing your makeup, you head to the downstairs bathroom to quickly wash your hands. Then you hear a panicked shout, followed by a loud bang, and lastly the sound of glass smashing. Instinctively, you rush out the room to see if Leah's okay, thinking the worst, but it seems that the only damage she has is to her ego. And, subsequently, to her relationship.

The sight that greets you fills you with more fury than you'd ever felt in your life. Your mirror, the antique one you had been adamant at buying when decorating the house, lay broken on the ground. The frame was cracked, it was surrounded by glass, and the ball laying next to it was very clearly the offending weapon. The culprit cowered in the corner of the hallway, looking at you and waiting for a reaction.

And boy did it come.

The walls of the house shook with the scale of your voice as Leah flinched like she was physically impacted by each punch that your words delivered. Nothing offensive or harmful was said of course, but your language was certainly colourful and impactful. Each word was spat with a lethal amount of venom, and Leah wasn't sure she would ever see the light of day again; living a life banished to her house, individually glueing each piece of the mirror back together as you endlessly lecture her. Eventually though, you did have to take a breath. Leah took one at the same time, though she was a shell of herself as you glared at her.

Composing yourself, you stepped over the mess and opened the front door before turning to Leah with an unnerving smile. She smiled anxiously back at you, and it took everything in you not to laugh at the nervous, apologetic look on her face. At least she knew she had messed up.

The next time you speak, it's like nothing had happened, and that fills Leah with more fear than she'd ever felt in her life. She knows she's in for it when you get back later.

"Come on, my love, we have a breakfast date to attend."

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson one shot #woso #woso x reader

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adascore · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

To Jump The Gun(ners)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #meadema

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gothamite-rambler · 3 months ago

Text

Bruce Wayne can't win small arguments with Jason Todd anymore. It doesn't matter if this defense doesn't fit in the argument, he can and will use it.

Bruce: You can't just steal my car, crash it, and leave a note saying "Belongs to Bruce Wayne!"

Jason (disinterested): Sorry, man. My brain doesn't work well at times. Being dead and then randomly revived does that to you. At least I made it out of that accident alive this time, unlike last time.

Dick: Fair point, Jason.

Bruce: …Um, okay, valid point. But you can't just use my credit card to buy only books on eBay!

Jason (opening a pepsi can): They were self-help books… about loss, grief, and betrayal.

Dick (whispering): Two points for Jason.

Bruce groaned in annoyance.

Bruce: Fair. Point.

Jason poured the Pepsi from the can into the sink, doing it purely to annoy Bruce.

Jason (smugly): Would you like to try again?

Bruce: All right, you can't just shoot a criminal and leave them for dead. What if you end up killing an innocent person like-

Dick (chiming in): Like a teenage boy.

Dick chuckled softly before bursting into laughter and collapsing onto the floor in delight.

Jason (staring at Bruce): Do I even need to say anything?

Bruce (shaking his head, defeated): Nope, nope, nope. I'm going to leave in defeat.

Dick: Jason wins!

Dick kept laughing as Bruce stormed out of the kitchen in a huff. Jason shook his head with a smile and grabbed a jug of milk he 'borrowed' from the fridge before heading out.

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kenyuukissme · 15 days ago

Text

three points ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ w/ rensuke kunigami

pairing :: kunigami x gn!reader

warnings :: not proofread ; pre wc!kuni ; possibly ooc kuni ; swearing ; self indulgent ; petnames ("baby") ; shitty ending

wc :: 891

three goals. that’s all he needed to get his phone back.

okay, look. teenagers and their phones, we all know they’re here for soccer but he needs to keep in touch with you. and this last goal, he’ll take it even if it means he has to steal it from isagi.

well, its not like isagi has what he does.

a loving partner, waiting back at home. he promised to keep in touch as much as he could, so winning back his phone is the first step.

just thirty seconds of this match left, and kunigami can steal this goal. fuck isagi, this is his game now. a swift shift and before isagi, the team and even he knows it, he’s scored that last goal.

wait. what?

“GOOAALLLLL!!!!” the team shouts in unison, jumping onto kunigami. everything they say following is a blur. all he can focus is on hearing your voice tonight, reading your texts and seeing your face.

after the match, the usual unwinding and whatnot is finished and kunigami finds himself waiting in front of ego’s office. he’s replayed this moment in his head so many times, he just needs to exchange his goals for his phone. its not difficult. so why is he hesitating?

no. it’s for you. he can’t hesitate. he needs you in a way that threatens his will to become the world’s best striker.

he knocks on ego’s office door. “excuse me. may i exchange my goals for my phone?” he awkwardly asks, and ego deadpans. the tall man sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “you kids come for soccer and your damn phones.” he mutters, throwing kunigami his phone. kunigami bows slightly, turning to leave as fast as he can.

to talk to you, and to get away from that freak… you can choose which was more urgent in that moment.

he hurries back to his room, but he quickly notices his roommates are… well, in the room. and they’re immediately teasing him about talking to his partner right away. so, to avoid their crazy comments, he decides to find a practice field that isn’t being used.

in the corner of the large practice field, he takes a seat against the tall wall and unlocks his phone.

oh, how he’s waited for this moment. he opens your and his chat on messages, looking at the messages you sent him for every day since this moment. you promised to send him them, even if lack of reply was discouraging. even if neither of you knew when he’d be able to read and answer them. for many reasons, really.

but losing feelings for each other wasn’t one.

he spends a dedicated amount of time to reading through each of your messages heart reacting and decides to leave replying for now. he presses the voice call button, he wants to cherish the moment properly.

he waits. one ring. two rings. three rings. fo-

“ren!!” your voice breaks the anxiety-inducing rings. and god, how he missed it.

“[name].” his voice almost smiles as much as his lips. after a few moments of back and forth “is this real??” and giggling with tears at the brink of your eyes, you finally calm down. it seems you were with your friends at the moment he called, so you excuse yourself into another room.

“how’ve you been? i missed you so much.” you can barely form a proper sentence, the rush and excitement turning into biter sweetness. or rather, melancholy.

“i’ve been good. would’ve been better i got to bring you with me.” he pauses, smiling to himself, almost in a love sick way. “and i know, baby. i know. i missed you too.”

hearing him talk, and not lowering his voice in a bashful way. hearing him proudly admit to you that he missed you.

the tears came on their own.

he hears your breath catch in your throat, like before you cry. and that’s when he presses the button that changes voice call to a video call.

“don’t cry, i’m here now.” you accept the video call switch, wiping the tears that threaten to fall, even before they fall. but seeing his face — after long hours, days, weeks, even months — of yearning to even hear his voice.

it does something, y’know?

with a singular expression he makes, along with a very subtle head tilt… its almost as if he was telling you to let it out. let yourself cry, let yourself feel what you’ve held back since the moment he left. let yourself cry into the comfort of his charming little smile, even if its a little sad.

so you spend the next few minutes crying, words mixed with sobs and jumbled up with hiccups. watching you cry would’ve made him cry, but you… you’re his precious lover. he wouldn’t make you watch him cry. so he whispers sweet nothings, despite being alone in such a big field.

well, not alone, ‘cause you’re with him. on call, in spirit. may his phone be taken away, that’s unknown. but he knows regardless of if you can talk daily, hourly or even once a month.

you’ll forever be in his heart.

a/n :: kuni my love <3 first time writing for him, sorry if its ooc and the ending's shit 😞

taglist :: open [ask to be added]

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

{do not copy, translate, steal, modify or repost without permission}

#signed by kyumeno #bllk #blue lock #kunigami rensuke #rensuke kunigami #kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami rensuke x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x gender neutral reader #bllk x you #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n

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victonair · 6 months ago

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Courting Azul Ashengrotto: A short concept (and a result of brainrot)

Intro: In which you propose to court Azul right after your confession, and surprisingly, you succeed in this endeavor.

Author’s Note: Hi! This is my first time posting on tumblr and despite this being just a short blurb, I would appreciate feedback and constructive criticism! I based this concept off traditional Filipino courting methods, but the reader’s race is ambiguous.

Courtship is a delicate process that has two meanings: to win the favor and affection of someone who you’ve chosen to solely dedicate yourself to or the process of putting in the effort to win someone’s romantic favor with the intention to marry them. Now, in this case, it would obviously be the former - considering you and Azul were still teenagers. But who said, you weren’t aiming for the latter as well?

The moment you proposed the idea of courtship to Azul; it became a fairly pleasant surprise to you - seeing his face turn completely red with his hand held up to his mouth in surprise and taking a step back. He looked so faint, especially right after the confession.

Initially, he was hesitant - considering he wanted to take the role of spoiling you first like what he’d done a good amount of times within your friendship, he had not made it obvious of course or lest he risk the discovery of his feelings for you back then. But now? He was at free reign to do as he pleased after listening to your heartfelt confession. Weirdly enough, it felt as romantic as an engagement proposal, with you preparing an entire well-worded speech to deliver the most romantic words he’d ever heard in his life - incomparable to even the ones the most talented script writers and actors had given.

The moment you had proposed the idea, words of disagreement were on the tip of his tongue until he saw the determined, longing, and absolutely charming look in your eyes. Effectively, that immediately shut him up, because of course, you only had the capability to do that.

And so with a meek nod, he had agreed, unable to resist you entirely. At that moment, he had not known the consequences of agreeing to your actions.

To put it short, it was nothing but being showered with affection at least once a day. Despite not having as much money as him, you always found a way to give him flowers once a day or every other day. He suspects that someone had given you access to the botanical gardens because not only were the flowers always fresh, but you always sorted them and left a handwritten note on why you picked them and the meanings of each arrangement.

Everyday was a surprise for him: from flowers, handwritten love notes (regardless of your handwriting), and gifts ranging from different varieties like trinkets and additions to his collection of coins. He could see the amount of effort you were putting into courting him.

It was an endless amount of affection that was a testament to your deep feelings for him; it was the fact you worked so hard in doing odd jobs and put in effort to every gift and each thing you presented to him with the most smitten smile on your face, like you were the one receiving a gift instead of him.

It left him speechless and always deep in thought about you; he often thought about many things: the mostro lounge, the amount of work that needs to be done, but most of all: he thought about you the most. It was no deception or lie that he was the happiest when with you - practically anyone could see the genuine smile on his face or flustered expression when you showed up, spent time with him, or gave him one of your courting gifts once more.

Even Azul could see that you were smitten with him, and that was something that was impressive. He was no stranger to insecurity and self-deprecating thoughts: it haunted him and made him think he was incapable or not worthy of you - but whenever you looked at him like he hung both the moon and stars just for you, his heart couldn’t help but just melt at the sight.

The most memorable experience of his in fact, was you serenading him with a traditional courting song from your culture - you ended up inviting him to Ramshackle late at night, when the fireflies were out, telling him to go to the balcony in the letter. At first, he was initially confused when you weren’t there, but when the soft sounds of a guitar started playing accompany with a sweet serenade of your voice from below - he immediately looked down to see Ace, Deuce, and you - you were singing with a guitar in your hands, strumming the strings to a soft beat whilst singing a tune that practically sang of charm and romance. Ace, on the other hand was carrying a sign that said, ‘Please accept my feelings’ - and Deuce was carrying another guitar that followed different yet similar beats to yours.

It was one of the many moments that Azul realized his feelings ran deep into his veins and with each beat of his heart. By the time you had finished singing and serenading him, he was a mess of emotions that were all positive in every sense. And when you went up to the Balcony to meet him, after telling Ace and Deuce to give both of you space - that was the first time you had kissed him, despite it only being on the forehead.

It was a magical moment that had been engraved in his head, something he’d never forget.

However, it wasn’t only the fact that you put in effort into the traditional courting gifts and methods; it was the fact that you made the effort to recognize the feelings he felt at times when he was overwhelmed or when he felt anything akin to a negative emotion; you always took the initiative to comfort him and do the best you could to make him feel better, whether it be aiding him with words of comfort or giving him space he needed, you always tried your best to help him with his emotions. It was clear you cared for him so much and if the gifts didn’t communicate that; then it was every moment you held his hand, and did your best in each situation to do as much as you could for him.

It didn’t matter if you were merely giving him a trinket or surprising him with a bouquet of flowers right after class and walking him down proudly down the halls; he was smitten with you in every action you did and everything that showed you…ever so remarkable and sweet you. He may not be sure of the future to come, but all he knew is that he wanted you in every path that would alternate from his decisions. He would take you hand in hand in every twist and turn, and when time is right, he’ll take you as his forevermore.

You can’t blame him if he never lets go of you; his greed is unmatched and he could never bear to have you out of his reach when you were the one who provoked feelings that no one on this earth had ever awoken. Do take responsibility, won’t you?

And although you were courting him first, you wouldn’t mind if you took your hand off the reins and let him take over, right? After all, rewarding you for the amount of effort you showed in order to prove that you loved him would only be the only viable option in this situation. So sit down, and let him spoil you with flowers, dinner dates, love letters, and more - just as you’d initially had done.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x reader

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soulaires · 1 year ago

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aaron warner family headcanons

The Warner Family.

pairings: dad!aaron warner x mom!reader

summary: get to know more about the warner family!

warnings: fluff, domestic, ooc, domestic shenanigans, protective aaron warner …

🪩:: voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

Aaron found out about it when he heard some crying in the bathroom at the middle of the night, noticing your lack of presence beside him, he got worried and walk towards the bathroom.

There, he saw you, in front of a mirror having a breakdown.

He approached you and asked whats wrong.

“love?” he said softly, as he hugged you from behind and caressed your hair, “My love, whats wrong?” he asked you worriedly.

“aaron..” you trailed off as you continue to sob. He hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead , pulling away as he make you look at him, “what is it, angel? You can tell me.” he urged you.

“I’m pregnant.” you blurt out.

With the lack of reply, you panicked.

“I missed my period recently and I feel kinda shit lately so me juliette and nazeera bought an pregnancy test earlier and I tested all 7 of them and they are all positive, I don’t—”

As you were rambling, he quickly hugged you tightly and lifting you up to the ground as he span you around. You laugh softly at this gesture as he peppered kisses to your face and hair while he whispered sweet nothings.

“Its okay. We will be okay. Don’t worry. We got this, yeah? I love you. Thank you. Thank you, I love you so much, My love.”

at the first stage he got nervous about being a dad and have some self doubt but later got over it as he saw you patying your belly despite it still not visible.

he got more protective over you and never ever let you do things.

you guys told your friends by a guess the word game. They all cried.

He bought a book about being a dad and take notes on pregnancy books to help you out.

Baby proofs the every part of the house immediately.

He went to every appointment with you

He never ever made you feel guilty for your cravings.

Oh you want a food from a store hours away? Just wait.

A hellspawn food combination that you want? He will eat it with you.

Massage? Done.

A food from a different country? He ordered his men to get it ASAP.

Want some sweets especially made by your husband even though you have never tasted his baking? He learned how to bake immediately!

You guys did an gender reveal in the most fun way.

You did it as both kenji and juliette worn a baby costume with 'boy' written in the blue bib for juliette while 'girl' in a pink bib for kenji

They both FIGHT to determine who wins to know the gender

They even go overboard as they jumped into the swimming pool racing each other to the finish line

Kenji won.

So, its a girl!

You guys decorated her room immediately

You did ALOOOTTTT of shopping!!!!!

Your husband just spoils you rotten as you keep buying cute toys, plushies, and pretty cute clothes!!!

“my love, don't you think its a bit too much?” “I am sure the little princess do not need that much clothes, honey.”

he gave up as soon as he saw some cute baby clothes + a matching one.

When you guys did a baby shower its so emotional like omg you guys are gonna be parents!

You and Aaron planted a tree so it grows with baby dior!

teenager!dior safe place is the tree, she goes there to lay down, read and to relax when stresses!

Your friends wrote letters for dior to read when she reached the age 7, 11, 13, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21 and 22!

You and aaron made her a gmail account as you guys constantly wrote her some letters and random things there for her to read in the future

When you went into the labor he desperately wished to take away your pain and was crying with you. He comforted you as he cares your hair and gives you kisses.

“shh, its okay, baby. Im here. Im not going anywhere. ”

“you got this, my love. You are doing so well.”

“Aaron! I can't do this—”

“yes, yes you can, darling.”

He really can't bare to see you in so much pain even though he had seen so much worse

He was very gentle and was crying when he held your baby girl in his hands. His princess, his girls, his universe.

After the labour, you were barely allowed to do things in the house, he only let you rest while he take cares with everything.

You guys had an 3 months lockdown, not allowing anyone to visit the baby

Always keeping an eye for baby monitors

You and him do an rock, paper scissors when it comes to changing baby Dior diapers (he lets you win, sometimes.)

Dior have your eyes so he is a victim to those puppy dog eyes. He can't say no to you, what more to his princess especially with your eyes?

Learns to do her hair!!

Dior first words is not 'momma' or 'dada' it was Kenny. Kenny. You and aaron felt betrayed.

Despite with the nickname, kenji teared up and always paraded the moment (to your husband dismay) he grows to adore the nickname when she keep calling him that

He sometimes forget that he played dress up with baby di so sometimes he go to work with tiara, ribbons, those princess accessories on him.

“Refrain from laughing, there is nothing funny about this matter.” “uh...theres something on you, sir.” “oh.”

Sometimes they were to scared to point it out

Kenji, nazeera and juliette made fun of him not until they were a victim of the dress up

At one point, kenji kidnapped baby dior and was later banned from seeing her for 2 months (barely a month in dior throwed a tantrum wanting to see her uncle kenny)

Baby dior played with your make up when she misses you! She wanna look like you because she misses you so much

Dior is an nature girlie! Aaron believes his angel is a reincarnated of persephone/artemis

Baby dior wears her pants backwards. She believes that “tails” should be at the back. You and Aaron gave up on the fight.

You guys had an motto that if its not hurting anyone or themselves, don't fight it. Let them.

One time you guys thought she was playing phone call but turns out she was in an hour real call with james.

Seashells hunting !!!!!

Everytime you guys went to a beach aaron always buy a big beautiful seashell then hides it in the sand for her to find!!! And her reactions always makes you and him melt!!

he also buries some treasure chests

He made an contract of no boyfriend until shes 30 and made baby dior sign with her prints with paints. He framed it.

You scold him for that and he just shrugs lol

teenage!dior have you in her closefriend and private insta!!

she collects shells and glue them to a cardboard and gifts it to you!

She wants a sibling so one day she just go “I want a baby sister or brother 🥺”

Keeps wishing on a well for it

Aaron is 100% in he just goes “Princess, ask mommy :)” “me too, baby. Let’s just ask momma for it, hm?”

Well, let’s just say she always get what she wants…

authors note: I had fun doing this Omg I wanna make it a series, do you guys want it? Please let me know!!! Feedbacks and reactions are very much appreciated!!!

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

If you want to be added to my A.W tag list plz let me know in my inbox ! 💌

#reader insert #shatter me series #shatter me #aaron warner x reader #aaron warner #aaron warner x you #rie answers 🦦#riewrites 🫀#aaron warner anderson #aaron warner imagines #girl dad aaron warner #aaron warner x y/n #shatter me x reader #aaron warner imagine #fem!reader #The Warner Family 🪐

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alphajocklover · 9 months ago

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Hey ! Recently, I've heard about a guy in my college, a young jock fresh from high school, that honestly acts very weirdly.

Apparently, his friends all went to local universities, while he moved all the way out to the capital, apparently in a bid to get some "elite" education. But that's not really weird, isn't it.

No, the weird thing starts at how he already acts like he's the king of uni, belittling everyone, including those like me who have been here for quite a few years, acting and even stating that he is the "alpha" of our department - as if such an outdated and so obviously false way of classifying people was even remotely correct. But then, he just goes around stating that he needs some "betas". Now, while I can imagine what they must be, those "yes-men" you see in movies accompanying the bully, I can't even begin to see how he wants to bring that to real life ! Especially since he's not in high school anymore !

Well, whatever. The real thing that creeps me out is how he seems to hang out near me weirdly often... Should that be cause for concern ?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I’ve only just seen your message. Hopefully there's still enough time for me to warn you. What you’ve met isn’t human. Not exactly. He’s… more.

Most teenage boys go through puberty with drastic changes. They shoot up, gain a bit of hair and possibly some muscle. Their voice deepens, and of course they get some… urges. It’s all very natural. But some teenage boys undergo a… startling transformation. They don’t just shoot up, they tower. They don’t gain a bit of hair, they grow bushes of it. Some shave it so that they can better show off their muscles, but most don’t. Muscle isn’t just possible for them, it’s inevitable. They’re bodies become beefy and hard, even without exercise, though most still become obsessed with lifting weights and getting even bigger. But what sets these boys, or rather these men, apart from the rest most are their urges. They don’t just feel the need to cum like most guys. They get the urge to dominate. The urge to show their power. The urge to fuck.

These men are what’s known as Alphas. And no, that’s not just some arbitrary classification. This isn’t some guy calling himself an alpha male because he’s an insecure Andrew Tate obsessed bitch. What you are dealing with is a real fucking Alpha. Once they were normal people like you or me, but something… awakened in them at some point. Usually during puberty, as I showed before, but it’s not impossible to have an Alpha discover his true self later in life. These men, if they can be called mere men, are bigger, stronger, more dominant than the average man. Much more dominant. So much so that the world seems to… bend to their will. I don’t know how they do it. Maybe they have some sort of special pheromones, or magic powers. But what I do know is when they want something, it just happens. If they want to be good at something, they just are. If they want to win at something, they just do. If they want the world, it’s served up to them on a silver platter with a protein shake.

And if they want you to be their Beta, you will be their Beta.

I’m not kidding. They can just.. change people. You’ve probably already seen some symptoms, in you and your friends. A sudden interest in fitness, in sports, in ‘bro culture.’ A strange growth spurt, the kind that really shouldn’t happen after puberty. An increased libido, a simpler vocabulary. And most of all, a great admiration for your Alpha. Not just admiration, a deep love. A need to do what he says, be what he says. Once those feelings start it’ll be too late to save you. Soon you’ll be nothing more than his Beta. Everything about you will revolve around what they want.

It’s not the worst fate in the world. Most people think that if a horny Alpha could do whatever they want to you, you’d end up a brainless sex doll. But more often than not what they really want is a bro. Or, more accurately, they want bros. Alphas are so competitive that they rarely are able to spend extended periods of time together. It’s like having two leaders of a pack. Eventually they end up locking horns. So they find, or rather make, Beta bros for them to hang out with. Big, but not as big as their Alpha. Sexy, but not hot enough to take any pussy away from the Alpha. Cool but not cool enough to take any attention away from the Alpha. There are some differences based on what the Alpha wants. Some Betas are stoners, some are jocks, some are surfers and some are skaters. It all depends on the Alphas personal aesthetic and taste. But Betas are all muscular, horny, hung, and completely subservient to their Alphas.

If you’re lucky, you can get out. Move somewhere far away, and forget about all of this. If you’re lucky the Alpha won’t care enough to go after you. You can keep your identity and sense of self intact.

But if you’re not lucky? If you’re too far under his influence? If your Alpha has taken a liking to you and won’t let you go? Well…

… be grateful you’re his Beta bro and not his Beta bitch.

**3 post in 2 days! I feel like I’m on fire! Guess I’m just very motivated to write recently. Anyways I hope you guys liked this one! Hope mentioning Andrew Tate wasn’t too political. I hate to let irl politics ruin my online fun. Enjoy!**

#jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #muscle growth tf #nerd to jock #Alpha with a capital A #muscle tf

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bunkerjking · 9 months ago

Text

The emotional breakdown later in the chapter will get most of the attention, but for my money, this is the most revealing moment in this week's chapter. A teenager so disconnected from his real emotions that he desperately rationalizes his hypersexuality not as a coping mechanism, but as 'this is what guys are like.'

It's easy to make fun of men for burying their emotions and then asking, 'why doesn't anyone know who I really am' - hell, Denji literally does that during the Bomb Girl arc - but Denji is a pretty direct criticism of both the way boys can get forced into unhealthy gender roles, and the way men self-regulate themselves and others into them.

The other boys Denji is with don't have the problem of being horny at inappropriate times. They have WAY bigger problems.

But Denji can't think properly when someone dangles the idea of sex in front of him. It's like a switch flips and he becomes a completely different person.

He shuts down and reverts to trying to embody masculine stereotypes he's been ingrained with, both through the social conditioning of growing up male in the 90s and the psychological conditioning Makima put him through to strengthen 'Chainsaw Man' - itself a hyper-masculine ideal that a human being physically cannot measure up to - and emotionally cripple Denji.

Denji is at his happiest when he's at rest with the people he loves. Power and Aki were not always easy to be around, but they loved him back and they wanted him to be happy. Nayuta is a child who doesn't understand her place in the world - how could she - but she earnestly wants to help her big brother as best as she can.

He isn't some cock-swinging alpha badass constantly on the prowl to crush puss, but for a lot of people - especially a teenager who was groomed to be an expendable child soldier - this unhealthy masculine 'ideal' isn't just something to live up to, it's the expected norm for men to be.

Being Chainsaw Man doesn't make Denji mentally stronger. As shown in the Falling Devil fight, he literally chops up his brain with his chainsaws to avoid confronting his trauma. Whenever he has to think about what he's lost and what's still left to lose, he runs toward something he isn't and away from a 'normal,' healthy response to the issues at hand.

"You stupid boy."

You'll notice that Katana Man, a perfect embodiment of an overly masculine dickhead, a misogynistic moron who refuses to grow in character or even basic combat skills, is totally on board for throwing Denji in a brothel and letting what happens happens. Katana Man perfectly represents the bad ending where 'traditional masculinity' wins the war for Denji's soul.

Denji needs help. Not some quick gratification. Not a meal and a nut and a nap. He needs genuine help, and a better male role model than the ones he's got. Even Kishibe, the only adult in his life other than Aki who actually did more good than harm, is an alcoholic recluse.

God help the boy.

#chainsaw man #csm #denji #character analysis #analysis #this poor kid

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ladykailitha · 3 months ago

Text

Around the World Part 4

Hello! And we're back with this lovely story and we have finally made it out of Utah.

In this we have an encounter of the voodoo kind, Robin wins over two teenaged boys, and Chrissy realizes she hadn't been doing her job as cover for the boys very well.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They continued their little haunted tour. Kooky curio shops, haunted mind shafts, Big Foot sighting locations, Moth Man hunted in Chicago as well as the OG in Virginia. They stayed at spooky inns and visited weird museums. They went to the French Quarter in New Orleans and had their fortunes read by a Voodoo priest. And even went on a river tour to see alligators.

The fortune teller’s shop was amazing. Everything they hoped they would get from a quirky little shop in the French Quarter. They didn’t care that it was probably mostly for show and tourists.

The shopkeeper was a thin, black man with tattoos all over his body. He had dark brown eyes that were almost the same color as the pupil, but they had a merry glint tot them Eddie was instantly charmed by.

“Welcome to my shop,” he purred when they first entered. “What can I get you fine folks? A good luck charm for the long haired gentleman? A love potion for the pretty lady? A curse for the red-head? Or maybe even your fortunes told...” And while Steve wasn’t referenced in the last pitch, he looked straight at him when he said it.

“Does the curse need to be for anyone in particular,” Chrissy asked, “or can I have one on standby for the next time a man calls me ‘little lady’?”

The shopkeeper chuckled. “Must have a bit of the person in question to curse them, I’m afraid, but can I interest you in an antique hat pin? It’s what ladies used to do in the old times to deter such men.”

“Sold!” Chrissy laughed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

And he did had three or four beautiful long and sharp hatpins. She picked the one with the emerald and sterling silver pin. She probably paid more than she should have, but she really didn’t care, it was beautiful.

Robin pointed to the painted rat skull behind him. “How much for that?”

“The pretty lady has a discerning eye.” He pulled the skull off the shelf and showed it to her.

She picked it up and turned it around. “I’ll buy it,” she said firmly.

He smiled at her and wrung her up, too.

“And what about you two fine gentlemen?” he asked Steve and Eddie. “What can a humble shopkeeper do for you?”

“Actually,” Eddie said with a grin, “could do all our fortunes?”

The shopkeeper smiled. “But of course, I’ll even throw in a nice group special for you all buying something from me first. $35 for all of you, payment first please.”

Steve smirked. He had a pretty good idea that tourists would come in ask for their fortune, get pissed off at the results and refuse to pay.

“We’ll start with the very pretty lady,” he said after grabbing a medium sized velvet bag. He emptied the bag out of the counter that had raised sides to prevent the pieces from tumbling to the floor. There were small bones, coins, and gem stones that now littered the surface.

“Love is in the cards for you, pretty lady,” he said with a grin. “You know where to find it, just reach out and grab it. It’s okay to be different person to different people, but trust those you love with you true self and sky is your limit.”

Robin blushed and murmured her thank yous. He looked up at Eddie next. He pushed all the items back into the bag and gave it a good shake, concentrating on Eddie as he poured out the bag once again.

“This trip you are on is more about self-discovery then you want to let on,” the shopkeeper said slyly. “You want to appear cool and collected all the time, but you don’t have to be. There is nothing wrong with being you. Be the child you never got to be.”

Eddie blushed and ducked his head. He wished he could shove a locket of hair in front of his face, but he had learned early on in his career that his best disguise was pulling his hair out of his face. And of course he steered clear of metal chains, black denim, and leather jackets.

He then turned to Chrissy after dumping out the bag a third time. “You are strong and powerful. A good friend and a better boss. But you spend too much time on the job. You’re worried that either it will have burned down without you or worked too well in your absence and won’t need you anymore. Learn to let go and be the better friend. Also your love life will flourish too.”

Then he turned to Steve. He cocked his head to the side and looked him a few moments before he shook out the bag for a final time. He leaned over what Steve thought was just an comprehensible mess. He looked back up at Steve warily and then kind of leaned back.

“You are one very complicated fellow,” the shopkeeper said giving Steve the side eye. “Your soul is split in two, but it’s a clean split. You like having two lives. You like the comfort and security of being yourself and someone else.” He pointed to Eddie. “This one could learn a thing or two about being himself from you, it’s that clean.”

He touched a bone and cocked his head the other direction. “One day you will see that to truly be happy you must reunite the two pieces, but for now, enjoy the split.”

Steve smirked. “I plan on it.”

The shopkeeper watched him for a moment before turning back to his fortune. “What you seek from this journey is closer than you think and not what you thought it would be. You thought it was about being free, but you are already free. This journey is about learning.”

“Anything else?” Steve asked. “I seem to be getting a longer reading than my friends.”

“Because these three are but shallow ponds compared to you,” the shopkeeper said wryly. “Everyone else is an easy read. But also they fit together. It’s like sticking your hand in a bag expecting all rubies and pulling out a diamond and three rubies. They weigh the same, but they are not worth the same.”

He started putting the detritus back in the bag. “The thing that is most interesting, is that your friends here would agree with me that you are the diamond. But you would not.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and he tilted his head forward in shock. “Come again?”

“You think of yourself a dross,” the shopkeeper said with a smirk. “You think that given the chance everyone you know would pick someone else, someone better if they came along. You think they’re settling. For shame.”

Steve’s lip began to quiver.

“Shame on you for thinking so little of the people you love,” the shopkeeper admonished. He turned around and rummaged around for something. He turned around and held out a small flannel bag. “There are many names for this, but the one you would recognize is a mojo bag. Keep it in your right pocket and every time you feel like you don’t deserve them, reach into your pocket and it will remind you of the opposite.”

Steve took it bashfully as Eddie leapt forward to talk about some of the weirder aspects of the shop, like the chicken feet and what all the bones were for, to give Steve a moment to compose himself.

Steve looked down at the bag in his hand, thumb rubbing over the soft material. Even if he didn’t believe he was worth keeping, what right did have to think that his friends were horrible people? Because he knew they weren’t.

So if they weren’t bad people, then maybe they did want to hang out with him for him, not in spite of him.

He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a twenty, shoving it into the tip jar. The shopkeeper noticed, but just smiled and shook his head. The advice had been for free, but he would take that tip in good faith.

When they left, their prizes in hand, Steve felt a strange wind send a shiver down his spine. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at the shop behind them. But it was gone. All that was there was a ramshackle building that looked on the verge of falling apart.

But there in the doorway the thin shopkeeper stood. But gone were the vestiges of the Voodoo priest. He wore a smart suit and top hat.

He tipped the hat at Steve with a jaunty wink and then he was gone and so was the strange wind.

“Hey, Steve,” Robin called, “you coming?”

Steve shook off the strange feeling and hurried to catch up with his friends. “Keep you’re shorts on, I’m coming!”

If it was was wild, crazy, or just plain silly like the giant clothespin by Claes Oldenburg in Philly while they were there in Pennsylvania for the HH Holmes gravemarker in Yeadon.

They were just having a blast running through the country having fun and doing silly things. Steve was documenting it all on social media, always making sure to tag a place after they left so fans would leave Eddie alone.

The strangest place they found a fan of Eddie’s was definitely the Lizzy Borden B&B.

Eddie had come out of his hotel room and hadn’t had a chance to pull on the hat when a couple of teenagers walked past grumbling about how obsessed their mom was with this true crime bullshit.

And Eddie. Dear Eddie just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was out of his mouth before he could even register the words. “Don’t knock true crime, I think it’s cool.”

Now these teenagers whirled around all set to tear into this adult who dared to call them out on their bullshit when they stopped dead cold in their tracks. Their eyes went wide and their mouths dropped.

“Eddie Munson?” the younger of the two boys cried. “Of Corroded Coffin? There is no way!”

Eddie quickly put on his sunglasses and trucker hat. He pressed a finger to his lips and winked. “I’m on vacation.”

The two boys shared an incredulous look.

“There is no way you would choose this place,” the first one said. “It’s lame.”

“The murder of an entire family is lame?” Eddie asked with a smirk. “What are the kids into these days.”

“Yeah,” the younger one said, “but it happened ages ago. Who cares now?”

“Ooh, ooh!” Robin said, having just exited her room. “I do! It’s really super fascinating.” And then she launched into this great big rambling speech about the different theories and who it could have been if it really wasn’t Lizzy like she proclaimed.

She led the two boys like a pied piper all the way to the breakfast nook where she continued to yap at them, waving her arms and talking at a speed Eddie wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could follow.

“They should pay her for that,” Steve said with a huff of laughter as he sat down next to Eddie at the table. “She could take anything ‘boring’ and make it the most interesting thing in the world. It’s how we survived retail together, if I’m honest.”

“She’s cute when she gets animated like that,” Chrissy said dreamily.

“Down, Chrissy,” Eddie warned. “You’re supposed to Steve’s beard for this trip not drooling over Lezzy the Lesbian over there.”

Chrissy sighed, but reined in her longing looks. “How goes the trip for you two, by the way? Is it as hard as you thought it would be? I told Vickie I would keep her updated on how things are going in case she needed to get ahead of something.”

Steve and Eddie shared a look. “It’s actually harder than we thought it would be,” Steve admitted.

“I thought it would be easier with smaller hotels and bed and breakfasts,” Eddie agreed. “But smaller means more intimate in ways we didn’t anticipate.”

“Ooh...” Chrissy grimaced. “It’s harder to get busy when the walls are thinner and the minds more closed off, huh?”

They both nodded.

“Once we get to the British Isles and the rest of Europe, it’ll be easier,” she promised taking Steve’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “They’re more about privacy over there and the walls tend to be stone, and thicker by design.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. Just two more days and the weight of being seen in America would be soon behind them.

The boys came over with Robin and got pictures with Eddie and then happily skipped back to their parents, excitedly chittering away about meeting Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin in backwoods Massachusetts.

Eddie smiled as he watched. It was definitely the strangest fan interaction he’s had. Where he became almost an afterthought in the wake of Rambling Robin and her obsession with true crime.

Steve gave his leg a squeeze under the table and they shared a fond smile.

Robin and Chrissy exchanged a look of their own. They couldn’t imagine being that deep in the closet and how much that must have had to hurt.

They silently vowed that they would be better at making sure their besties got more alone time on their European leg of their journey. Because that’s what this trip was for after all.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar au

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pullupinarari · 3 months ago

Text

Inside your mind, don’t you mind? [LH]

author's note: ehm, hi 🧍🏻‍♀️ welcome to "I write things like this when I'm having a mental breakdown" - I finished this one at 3 am and I'm actually nervous to post it. I don't even know if this should be here as a fic, but I wanted to share it with my girls. (I'm so very sorry for this one in advance)

warnings: babes, this is very raw. there's mentions of self esteem problems, deteriorating mental health, descriptions of intrusive thoughts and feelings and some mentions of suicidal ideation - nothing happens though! But there's a lot of destructive references that can be triggering! Please, don't read this if you're not comfortable with these topics!

• masterlist

wc: 3425 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

The agonizing pain of not feeling like you’re enough. Oh, the aggravating, agitating, screaming pain in your chest, the lump forming in your throat, leading tears to swell in your eyes as your thoughts haunt your brain - creating a shadow that follows you around everywhere you go.

It started slowly, some clouds gathering around your brain from time to time while you read some comments online, but you managed to shrug off most of them. But like a storm coming, there is always the moment when the thunder hits - startling everyone who wasn't expecting it.

You can’t lie to yourself and say that you didn’t feel it coming. You could sense it in your bones, your body growing colder, your thoughts getting darker and heavier, your mood constantly changing every time reality would hit you.

The comments started to get bigger and bigger - or maybe your eyes just started paying more attention to them, making them look bigger than they really were. But you let them occupy the space in your brain, you allowed that to happen, and the storm started forming.

Isn’t it funny how our brains work in such a malefic, even masochist way towards ourselves? The eternal creation of our self-destructive thoughts can be our end sometimes, like when the thunder hits somewhere, or someone, so close and with such intensity, capable of setting its surroundings on fire, demolishing everything it touches.

Your mind was never your friend, to say the least. It was always hard for you to deal with sadness, anger, all the feelings that would corrupt your vision, making you feel like you could reach a point of no return anytime. But as you grew older, life taught you its lessons, and opened your eyes to what living life truly means.

The sad teenager turned into a grown woman, trying her best to survive, until she started to see a world that could actually hug her tight, embrace her and all her flaws, and never let her go. Meeting Lewis in the middle of your self-discovery process was the cherry on top of your cake: finding someone who cared about you, who understood you, who made you feel seen, loved - just as you were learning how to love yourself.

But Lewis brings his own tornado attached to his soul, wrecking every place he walks into, destroying the fragile souls that try to reach him, not knowing how to deal with everything he represents.

His name is enough to make a riot erupt in every street, in every corner voices call for him, echoing his fame, his legacy. He tries his best, he truly does. But he can’t stop the madness whenever someone gets too close to him, and his fans surely don’t forgive anyone who gets to touch his soul, to win his love and devotion.

You were good at ignoring most of the comments at first - being so in love that nothing could make you pay attention to it. But nothing lasts forever, neither the good nor the bad, the angel and the devil constantly battling in your mind.

Sometimes, the devil needs to win - the fire is always stronger than the water. The fire that destroys lives, the world that we live in, the love that you used to have for yourself. Sure, water can save you, but you need to allow the saving grace to enter your body - and most important, your spirit, for that to happen. You need to let the waves come crashing down on your being, putting out the fire that consumes you.

And you don’t. Instead, you allow yourself to slowly burn in the flames of the old consideration that you had for your life - your will to live turning into ashes right in front of your eyes.

Every day, you read a handful of comments under your posts, of people talking about your appearance. First, they talked about your clothes. Then, they commented on the ways you would style your hair. Which is fine, because you can actually change all of those things. But turning your presence at the paddock to support your boyfriend, into a beauty pageant online, made you feel sick.

You can’t change your physical features. You can try and smile more, you can lower your tone, you can change your makeup. But you can’t change the shape of your nose, your bone structure, your height, or the way you are.

Entering a spiral of thoughts, comments, and comparisons ruins you silently. It’s like drinking poison, letting it slowly corrupt you on the inside, feeling it burning on your throat as the corrosiveness enters your veins - changing you forever.

Not even an ocean of holy water could save you for your destructive state now. Every time you are in the presence of your boyfriend, you can’t help but blame yourself. He is still oblivious to the ideas filling your head, touching you as gentle and loving as always. His kisses feel warm against your frozen heart, his own fire mixing with yours every night - but no one really knows how different flames can evolve, when mixed with flammable emotions.

Lewis’ fire is controlled. He is meant to burn only when is around you, letting his touch speak for all the words that could leave his mind but that would never make you feel even half of what his fingers do. And even when his fire spreads, and he lets it blow a little out of proportion, he still runs to you, to vent to his other half, so your whispering words can sound like the wind, blowing in his face, allowing him to calm down softly.

He only burns because he is fed by the love he feels for you - feeling it so strongly, with an intensity that could break the strongest chain in the world, letting all his walls down so he can get closer to you.

But you… you are a wildfire - ready to spread and destroy everyone and everything around you. Feeding yourself off of the hate comments you read all the time, of the ideas that fly around your brain because of them. The comments that Lewis always taught you to ignore, to not pay any mind to them. You know he is right, but when your being starts breaking, every crack counts to destroy everything that you are, everything that you’ve built - it’s a matter of time until it all comes crashing down. Every single detail that you have experienced, that you learned through the years, that made you what you are right now, it’s slowly disappearing, and your body leaves a trail of destruction as your feet drag around the way.

The incessant feeling telling you that everyone online is right, that you really should work on your appearance more, makes all the doubts sound real - like a ghost stalking you, running its silky touch on your skin, making goosebumps appear, just to let you know that they are near, surrounding you everywhere you go.

What if Lewis shares the same opinion as those people? How can he love you if he looks at you and questions your looks? It’s more than just clothing choices now. It gets to a point when you feel embarrassed to wake up next to him, knowing that he is going to see your tired face and notice all the details and flaws in your skin.

Your subconscious always makes you hide your face with the sheet, or diving your features further into the pillow so he can’t look straight at you. It’s stupid, but it’s the reflection of all the insecurities pooling in your stomach, making you cry yourself to sleep every night without your boyfriend noticing, waiting until he is fast asleep to pour your emotions into the pillow that muffles your sobs.

Believing in all those opinions that get through you makes you feel disgusting, stealing from you all the will to go outside. But you can’t quit right away, you can’t go down without a fight. You can’t let Lewis know about this, he can’t even suspect it - not wanting a fight to break between the two of you because of the hate that you’ve been getting online.

And even if you can’t change your physical structure, you are going to try your best to, at least, make it seem like you can. Trying one more time to be someone you’re not, just so you can make Lewis like you a little more, falling in love with an idea of you that doesn’t exist.

You try everything. New sets of nails every single week, hair extensions, doing your makeup in a whole different way, wearing completely different clothes than you were used to.

Lewis notes the small differences at first, not paying much mind to it and letting you choose the way you like to present yourself - seeing fashion as a way to express your personality. But it comes to the point of obsession.

Every single day, when you’re back home, you read the comments on your instagram about your outfit of the day. Every time, there’s always someone ready to compare you to another girl on the paddock. It’s sickening - as hard as you try, you are never enough.

And if you’re not enough for some random people online, how will you ever be able to be enough to your boyfriend? To the person who shares his life with you, who sees you naked - physically and metaphorically, knowing every inch of your skin and every haunting thought of your mind like the back of his hand.

You don’t feel comfortable to act like yourself anymore, not even around him. Feeling like nothing that you can do will be enough to fulfill his needs, to make him feel lucky enough to have you by his side. And there are no doubts in your mind that he can find someone so much better than you, so easily.

“Do you want to go have dinner out tonight, love?” - no. Of course you don’t want to. You don’t want to leave your house, the four walls surrounding you being the only thing keeping you safe, away from the judgment, from the dirty looks, from the snarky comments.

Lewis might be calm and thoughtful, but he is not dumb. He notices that you look skinnier, that you haven’t been getting much sleep - waking up in the middle of the night to your side of the bed empty, only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering what you’ve done wrong to deserve all this backlash.

This is destroying you, you know it is. You are sure that you will burn so hard that everything will turn into ashes, releasing the powder that might just finish killing all the things that surround you and your memory.

It’s already planting guilt on Lewis’ mind. He wishes he could have more time to stay by your side most of the days, without having to hang up your calls while you are in the middle of a conversation, without leaving you alone for days on end, always arriving in the middle of night, just to leave again early in the morning. He notices that you look sadder, your face doesn’t shine as much anymore, your facial expressions are closed and bland, looking unsurprised with life, not having it in yourself to enjoy the little things anymore.

It breaks his heart, it truly does - and he can’t help but feel like he should be more present, he should listen to you more, even if he does everything he can right now. But maybe it’s not enough, maybe he needs to try harder.

He would love to understand what’s going on with you, really. Nowadays, he looks at you and it’s like he doesn’t recognize you anymore. You don’t laugh out loud at his jokes anymore, he doesn’t hear your giggles echoing through the room, he doesn’t understand why you felt the need to cut your hair short and then fill it with hair extensions after two days. He doesn’t understand why you are so obsessed with your looks now. The thing that he loved the most about you was how authentic you were. How you weren’t scared of being yourself in a world where every girl looks the same. You stood out in a room full of people, because you were you, not an imitation of someone.

Your boyfriend used to love looking at you at your most candid moments, mesmerized by how your eyes would look small on your face when you would laugh, your cheeks turning pink whenever he complimented you. He loved how effortlessly beautiful you looked at all times, especially after waking up, noticing the reminiscents of his touch on your body from past nights. But the heavy makeup, the exaggerated nail extensions, putting in an obsessively amount of effort into your appearance… and he looks at you, and now you just look like everyone else.

Lewis doesn’t understand that you do all this because you love him, though. Because you desperately want to be someone that he will find attractive, someone that he won’t ever even think about leaving behind - your mind not thinking straight anymore, not even believing that he still loves you at this point, feeling too unloveable to accept the love confessions that he still insists on whispering in your ear, when he tries to get closer to you.

Every night, he looks at you, lying with your back facing him - not even allowing him to come close enough to cuddle properly, keeping a distance created by the shield that you’re creating around yourself, isolating yourself from the one person that you would always let inside. But not anymore.

His eyes are fixated on the back of your head, curious to delve into your brain, wishing he could crack it open just to see what’s inside of your mind. So he could try and understand you, all the changes in your behavior, wanting to help you get back to yourself - missing his girl terribly.

Unfortunately, the trail of destruction surrounding you is too big, already. You can’t come back and resuscitate your old self, bringing her back to life after killing her a thousand times, each time hoping you would be reborn with a new personality, a better one, one that looked more pretty, who’s laugh sounded more contained and controlled.

Your attempts failed. All of them. And there’s no point of return, you are not yourself anymore, and you will never get yourself back as long as you stay in the same environment that made you rip apart all the details that belonged to your old self.

As much as Lewis tries, he too can’t feel love from your side anymore. The distance between your souls doesn’t stop growing, breaking his heart into a million pieces as well, already mourning the loss of a body that still sleeps by his side.

This was never about a lack of will on his part - you are the problem here, you have always been during your whole life, and you can’t hold that against him. The truth is, Lewis wasn’t ready for the storm that you carried inside of you - letting it show now in its plenitude. Each thunder goes straight to his heart, burning it, ripping it to pieces, until he is gripping his chest with the agonizing pain of losing someone that he would give his life for.

But whenever he said that he saw all the greatness in your eyes, he was just projecting himself. He said he would do anything for you, walking a thousand miles just to look into your eyes - but your eyes are land, and he still insisted on navigating you. At the end, you can only feel sorry for traumatizing him with the fire that you let spread out of control, not even moving an inch to hold it inside of you anymore. You are already gone, burnt to your core, and the light coming from your flames keeps blinding Lewis, at this point.

Now, your bodies lay beside each other on a cold mattress, matching the way your figures seem to be made of stone - never moving to meet one another, your limbs never touching, your souls not connecting anymore. Two strangers, lying side by side, both breaking psychologically, with no way to mend.

After a long time of introspection, of hours where he allowed all the tears to stream down his face, he knows what he needs to do. You are broken so badly, that there’s nothing he can do anymore, and Lewis refuses to watch you destroy yourself any more. If the pressure from his fame has put you through all of this, he needs to set you free, so you can recover every single bit of yourself that you have lost while you tried to please everyone else around you.

You are not good for each other anymore. Your moments together are filled with silence, like you don’t know the other, now. You too know that it’s best to just nip the evil in the bud, but there isn’t a good way to end things - it’s ending, after all. The emptiness that you are going to leave inside each other will be unrepairable, but sometimes, love isn’t enough.

Love can’t save us all, and lucky are the ones that can be saved by such a pure and divine feeling - relying on an act of courage to allow themselves to be captured again after the fall, rebirthing into the demonstration of what love represents, of how powerful it can be.

Breaking up, after giving your all to someone, to try and please them, so you could be someone that they would love more and more, makes you question all your life choices. You don’t know who you are anymore, you don’t know where to follow now. You don’t have a path - when you look around, you just see the corrosive effects of your actions, the loneliness enduring on your every day now, not having a single soul to talk to. The smoke lingering in your eyes is the only thing making you look alive.

You and Lewis need to follow different paths, though. Both of you know this. You both need to find yourselves away from the pressure of each other’s presence, from the demons surrounding both of your brains - wrapping your necks around a rope that would be enough to hang the two of you, suffocating you with the deepest emotions that you once shared as a couple.

The devil always wins, at the end of it all. The destructive thoughts match the destruction surrounding you, leaving you completely empty, with nothing to keep to yourself as you have lost everything you had in your life, in yourself. You’re nothing now, you’re just a deposit for your brain to dump its worst creations in, using you to its own pleasure now.

Falling for someone like Lewis was the peak of your destructive tendencies, feeding yourself off of his own fire, sucking him dry of all his energy like gasoline, only to boost your own burning, to the point where it could erupt from your body and end everything around you. The angel quickly died, killed by the devil himself, ruling your mind without a contrast of the good, the judgment of your actions being delivered to the demon on a tray for him to savor.

You know Lewis gave you things that you could never give back - the purest of his feelings that you crashed like it was nothing in the middle of your obsessions, running over him while trying to please him at the same time. You never really understood how honest his love was for you. He didn’t love you for your makeup or clothes, he loved you for who you were.

You are not that person anymore, but as your fingers feel the ashes of what you have become, a sparkle of a light shines in front of you - like an angel, that’s still lingering on the corner of your brain, trying to call your name.

Maybe, it’s never too late to find yourself again when you lose your deepest form of being - your devastated soul can still be relieved, once you find the purity in between the embers that still feel warm at the touch - realizing that, once you stumble upon the person that you used to be, she will be so happy to see you.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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