#fuck is the easiest one even though i never want to actually fuck any of them. because i can imagine like a world in which maybe

[coquelicoq]

fmk is so hard because i never want to marry any of them. i get that that's how it works and i don't want to kill people either (or fuck them??? aroaceacidal represent ig) but marrying people even in the realm of thought experiments is so hard to wrap my mind around that it makes the game quite stressful. there is only one person i've ever wanted to marry and that person is fictional character meng zhi from nirvana in fire. from now on i am only playing fmk under the stipulation that he can be one of the three people.

[muffinpink02]

Another Love (flatline)

Okay, this isn’t my usual kind of story, but I’ve always wanted to do a cheating fic. I haven’t been cheated on (yet, hopefully never) so I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel authentic. I took a different approach with it. But yeah, let me know what you think. Also thank you this anon. I know I didn’t do exactly what you asked but I hope you like it.

Warnings - smut 18, cheating, toxic, manipulative behaviour, swearing

word count 6922

The rain outside pelted hard against your living room window, the sad looking drizzle cascaded down the glass like a mini waterfall. The sky outside was grey and miserable, making your normally bright and sunny living room dark and gloomy. But being at the end of the year it wasn't a surprise the weather was so dull, even if you were living in the sunnier climate of Barcelona.

And as it was the end of the year that meant Christmas was only a week away. Which is exactly why you were searching on your phone for a last minute Christmas gift. Well, actually you had done all of your christmas shopping weeks ago. This last minute shop was for Alexia’s mum. Though, this gift wasn't from you, this gift would be from her very unorganised daughter. And just like Alexia did every year she left everything to the last minute and of course she had asked you to help her out.

“You’re better at shopping, amor. Just take my card. I know you’ll get something she likes.”

You of course couldn't say no to your fiance's pleading puppy eyes and honestly you didn't mind, you were better at buying the gifts for any occasion. And Alexia would only end up just buying something last minute that her mum definitely wouldn't want or use.

So you sat comfy on your sofa with a heavy blanket wrapped around you, snuggled in one of Alexia’s thick, soft jumpers, scrolling through your phone in search of the perfect gift for the older woman. You hummed, mindlessly nodding your head to the music that lightly played out of your speaker in the background. After another 20 minutes of scrolling you finally found the perfect gift. It was a beautiful red cotton scarf. Alexias mum had lost her own a couple weeks back, and as far you knew she hadn’t replaced it yet. So this was perfect! 

You added the item in your bag, filled out all the postage information and just before you could click the ‘buy now’ button, your screen turned black. Your phone battery had given up on you. 

“No! Fuck sake.” You grumbled, throwing your head back in annoyance.

What were the chances? I mean you were warned at 20% and 10% but still!

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly kicked the covers that were wrapped tightly around your legs, freeing yourself from your comfy cocoon. You were about to go to your bedroom to grab your charger until you spotted Alexia’s ipad sitting under the coffee table. You leaned over and grabbed the device, thanking the heavens you didn't have to leave your spot.

“Please have charge.” You prayed as you pressed the on button.

The apple tech gods must have heard your prayers as the screen sprung to life with a full battery. “Yes!” You cheered as you slumped back into your pit, wrapping the covers around your body. 

You easily unlocked the device, typing in your date of birth for the password. You smiled as the screensaver appeared. It was a photo of you and Alexia last year, when you had been away on holiday, the very same holiday the blonde had proposed to you. You wore a huge smile while the blonde was lovingly kissing your cheek, both your sun kissed skin glowing on your faces.

You could still remember the moment she pulled the blue velvet box out. Your eyes had tears in them the moment she got on one knee, it was the easiest decision you had ever made.

It only made you more excited for the upcoming holiday you had booked. Not that Alexia had any clue, this was a surprise holiday, completely planned all by yourself. It was technically for her birthday but you couldn't wait another 2 months, she’d almost found out about it four times already!

You opened up the website again and found the red cotton scarf, you added the item to your trolley once more and began the process of filling out all of the shipping information again. You didn’t mean to tap the notification when it appeared on the screen, you swore as it instantly opened you up to Alexia’s emails and straight to the one that just landed in her inbox. 

“Shit.” You huffed. 

You were about to click off of the app and finish your purchase and you would have, if it wasn’t for the yellow emoji that caught your eye. You knew you shouldn't have, but something in your gut told you to read the message.

You blinked.

You stared at the screen. 

You blinked again.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you read the words, your heart instantly dropped to the pits of your stomach. “What?” You whispered to yourself

Alexia - I'll see you around 4 after training. Be ready. 

Joe - be quick, I’ve missed you 😘

“Missed you?” You said out loud. What?

No. Wait. Maybe there was more to it than this. Maybe it wasn't what you thought it was, surely not. Alexia wasn’t cheating on you, she’s your fiance for fuck sake, this wasnt what you thought. Just breath, don’t over react. This might be a friend or someone you don’t know, and she's meeting up with them. This might be nothing. Right? It's nothing. 

But, it also might be something. 

You scrolled a little further up on the conversation. 

Joe - Did you have to rip my underwear? 😂

Alexia - Sorry, i'll buy you another pair 

Joe - just for you to rip those too? 

Alexia - maybe 😘

Your breath caught in your chest as the words sunk in. You were wrong, this was clearly more than a friend.

You felt sick.

Your eyes kept going over the words, over and over and over until they didn’t make sense to you. You stared until the black lines that formed letters became small blurs that you could no longer read or process.

Alexia was cheating on you. 

Alexia. Your fiance. Your world. Your life. Your person was cheating on you.

This couldn’t be real, surely not. It must be a prank. A wrong email. Maybe she had been hacked or it's a code for football talk. Maybe …. something? You were so desperate you would believe anything else right now. But it was real, it was right in front of you, in black and white. You just didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t.

Your mind went completely blank, a numbing feeling sunk into your bones. Nothing was processing right, it was like your body was trying to reject what it was feeling. Even your vision seemed to stop, everything around you seemed to blur. A deafening silence sliced through your head, ringing painfully inside your ears. 

Breath. 

With a shaky hand you swiped up to see how far this went. Maybe this was a one time thing? Not that it made it any easier, well, maybe it would? Maybe. But that thought was killed instantly as you watched the messages between Alexia and Joe go on and on. Your finger kept swiping the screen, watching the days and weeks go by. The dates were going further and further back. It felt like it would never end. 

Your stomach twisted as the dates went back eight months. Months. This had been happening for 8 months. Nearly a year. How? How was she doing this? When was she doing this? Why was she doing this? Countless questions were steam rolling through your head. You didn’t notice your fingers were gripping the iPad as hard as they were until the muscles in your digits started to hurt. 

The messages were short. There were no declarations of love or anything that seemed intimate. Just a lot of ‘when’ and ‘where’ there was the odd flirty message, like the one you read, but nothing cryptic, it almost seemed business li

“W-what?” You stuttered in disbelief.

This surely wasn’t happening, this had to be a dream. A nightmare.

You took a deep shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You wanted to wake up and see that none of this was real. You had to wake up from this nightmare and see Alexia sleeping soundly in your warm shared bed as she cradled you against her chest like she did every night,

Please don’t let this be real. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until your tears began to drop on the screen, blurring the words that had just turned your world upside down. Your body was shaking, trembling hard as your fingers moved to swipe along the messages. You scrolled to the start of their conversation, needing to know how this started. 

No, you needed to see her. You needed to put a face to the name. You needed to see who this Joe was. 

You studied the name of the stranger. You instantly searched for her on Alexia’s instagram followers. It didn't take you long before you found her profile. Her public profile. Did they even care to be careful? The carelessness felt like another kick in the teeth, it almost felt like the stranger wanted you to see her. Maybe she did.

You scanned her profile. She was the complete opposite of you. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her style, her smile. She was nothing like you. 

She was beautiful. 

Somehow that made the pain worse. You couldn't stop the humiliation creeping down your skin, and your walls going up. Your mind dived into a deep pit of insecurity, not only was you being cheated on, but the girl didn't even look like you. A nauseous feeling flooded your brain. Did Alexia not find you attractive anymore? Was this the kind of girl Alexia actually liked and wanted?

A certain photo caught your interest. Joe was laying beside a pool, her perfect body cladded in a bikini that hardly contained her intimate parts, you scoffed in disgust when you spotted Alexia’s name in the likes. She had liked a few of her photos. Once again not caring about her footprint, she either had no shame or was just careless. It just felt like another punch in the gut. You continued to stalk Joe’s insta, looking for any more sightings of Alexia in the likes or comments, and maybe even a photo. 

She was stunning. She was perfect. She wasn't you.

You felt stupid. So fucking stupid. How many lies had Alexia told you? 

Your mind wandered to where they even met. Was she a fan? Did she know her from a life before you? Did she work for Barca? Did she find her online? On a dating app? Maybe they met on a night out?  It wasn't hard for her to do, you had noticed you had been asked less and less on nights out with the girls. Probably for this exact reason. Was she the only one, or was there others? Or maybe Alexia wasn't even meeting with the team.

Did the team know? Were they aware of what Alexia was doing? You had noticed some of the girls didn’t speak to you as much as they did before, maybe this was why? Maybe they felt bad, too ashamed to look you in the eye. But Alexia could.

Then it started to click, the late nights, the texts from Alexia telling you she was staying behind for extra training, it was all starting to take a different meaning. You pictured Alexia and Joe sneaking around, checking into some random hotel, naked and wrapped up in white sheets, panting and laughing at how clueless you were.  

You could feel the acidic bile daring to rise as you pictured Alexia with your rival. Did she make her feel better than you could? Satisfy her in a way you couldn't? 

That's when the intrusive images flashed in your mind, images of Alexia doing all the things she did to you to your opposite. Did she fuck her the same way she fucked you? Did she go down on her the way she went down on you? Biting at her thighs, making her beg to give her what she wanted, while your fiance smiled up at her with her hazel eyes. 

Her mouth kissing you hours after being with her. That’s when the bile finally rose up from your stomach. You ran to the bathroom just in time to make the toilet as the sick came up. You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, your back slumped hard against the wall before collapsing on the bathroom floor. Your lip quivered as the tears finally spilled from your eyes, your body trembling against the cold tiled floor.

How was this happening? Alexia had proposed to you just last year, you were planning a wedding, a future together, a family. 

What did you do wrong? 

You didn’t know what to do. Should you call someone? Should you call Alexia? No. Should you leave? But where would you go? All your family and friends were back in the UK. You had some work friends here but you weren't close enough for something like this.

Everything was falling apart. Everything you thought you knew was one big lie. How could someone you love treat you like this? How? 

After what felt like hours, you found the strength to wash your mouth and face before carrying yourself back to the living room and opened the ipad back up. Reading the messages that were breaking your heart but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The messages were short, no more than two lines but every word felt like another blow, another hard hit that made your chest painfully tight. You didn’t realise you were hardly breathing until your body forced you to take one large gulp for air. 

You felt your body go numb when you realised Alexia had met her on your 5th anniversary. 

God, you felt so stupid. You had waited at home for her. You had spent hours cooking a three course meal, all her favourites. 

Your eyes begin to blur again when you read their messages.

Joe - Are we meeting at the restaurant or should I meet you at the hotel?

Alexia - Come to the hotel, I want to see you before I go out

Joe - okay, but this time we have to make the reservation. We missed it last time.

Alexia - well if you hadn't have put on that dress that drives me fucking crazy we would have made it. 

You were broken. 

How was this your Alexia? 

This surely wasn't the same girl that made you feel effortlessly loved? The girl that knew you better than you knew yourself. The same girl that brought you untold happiness, happiness that you never knew existed before you met her. This wasn't the same girl that asked you to dance 5 years ago in the dingy little bar. The girl that had put a ring on your finger promising you a happily ever after. 

How was this her? Your Alexia. Was she even your Alexia anymore?

Nothing felt real. You looked around the living room, it didn’t look right, nothing looked right, nothing was the same. The peace and warmth you felt from the apartment had instantly disappeared, it felt cold, lifeless. 

You jumped when you heard a text come through on your phone, it was from Alexia.

Alexia - Hola, baby, we’re going over game strategy so I will be home a little later today

And there it was, another one of her lies. A heavy weight sunk over your body, making you feel numb to the bone.

You placed the ipad on the coffee table and slowly stood up. Your legs felt like led as you began to walk, you didn't really know what you were doing, your body felt like it was going into some weird overdrive or maybe it was the shock from it all. You stopped and stared at the christmas tree that flickered in the corner, your mind took you somewhere else. You weren't sure how long you were standing there before your legs brought you to your shared bedroom.

—-----------

The familiar sound of keys rattled in the door. It was once a sound you looked forward to, instead your stomach lurched. You took a deep and shaky breath as you got ready to come face to face with your finance, the woman that had shattered your heart into a million pieces. 

“Amor, I’m home.” 

Alexia frowned when you didn’t reply, she removed her shoes and made her way into the apartment to find you. It didn't take her long to spot you in the living room, sitting at the breakfast table. 

The beating in your chest thumped hard when your eyes fell on the blonde. You wanted to hate her, you wanted to instantly fall out of love with her, you wanted to feel nothing when you heard her call you by your pet name, but that wasn't the case. You still felt everything you did before you saw the messages, before you knew the truth.

But you knew where she had been this evening. 

Alexia could instantly tell you had been crying, your blushed cheeks and watery eyes gave you away, not that you were trying to hide it. You wanted her to see the hurt she had caused.

“Bebé? What's wrong?” 

Alexia hurried over to you, she was about to cup your face, but was stopped in her tracks when you moved away. Your eyes met hers, you could see her hair was wet, she at least had the decency to shower before returning home, or make it look like she had just showered after training.

“I know.” Your voice croaked out, the hours of crying weakening your throat.

Alexia’s face frowned in confusion, it instantly annoyed you.

“Que?” 

“Joe.”  Even saying her name out loud made you want to scream.

Alexia’s face dropped, you could see the look of horror as realisation hit her. Her mouth gaped open but no words came out. The silence was deafening, you felt your skin burning, it felt itchy, painfully itchy you wanted to tear it off. After what felt like hours, though it was likely seconds, Alexia finally spoke.

“Wh-what? Who? What do you mean?” The blonde anxiously fiddled with the zip on her joggers. 

You felt your shoulders slump, she didn't even have the decency to just be honest, but why would she? She’d lied this whole time. 8 months. 

“Don’t. Don’t play dumb, Alexia. I saw your messages on your emails.” 

Alexia's frown deepened. A flash of anger flickered across her eyes. “Why were you going through my emails?” 

Was she really going to try and turn this on you?

“What? Are you actually fucking asking me that?” You snapped, your own anger boiling over.

“No! I mean-” Alexia pushed her hand through her wet loose hair, you didn't miss the way it shook. A trait she did when she was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

“Don’t lie to me!” You shouted, voice cracking. The tears you were trying so hard to hold down bursting at the seams. “Please. Just stop lying, Alexia.” God. You sounded so weak.

Alexia looked at you, those beautiful hazel eyes you loved so much filling with tears. Her foot was tapping against the floor, she looked scared. Good, you thought. She bit her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. You watched her through blurry eyes, she took a step back from you, covering her face with her hands. Her body stiffened as she took a deep breath.

“She means nothing to me.” Her voice was just above a whisper. But you heard it.

You sucked in a hard breath. Even though you knew what you knew, hearing her confess it hit you harder than you could have imagined. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but when Alexia put her warm hand on your shoulder you broke down, your skin prickled where she touched you.

“Amor, please. Please don't cry.” The blonde begged. 

You covered your face as the tears streamed down your hot cheeks, you could feel your heart beating painfully fast. It felt like you were about to go into shock, maybe you were, your body felt like it was taking a brutal beating from the inside out.

“You were with her tonight.” You weren't asking. You felt her hand stiffen on your shoulder.

The silence was so loud.

“You were with her tonight, weren't you Alexia.” You repeated. Your tone was sharp. You bluntly moved her hand from you, not wanting her to touch you. You ignored her gasp from the out of character movement from you, but you didn't care. The thought of her hands being on someone else made the pit of your stomach tighten painfully.

You watched as a few tears slipped from her eye’s. You could see the panic starting to hit her. You stood up, you needed to move, you walked past Alexia even though a small part of you wanted to hold her. What the fuck? No. You ignored it. You walked to the open kitchen, you grabbed the sides to help you with your balance, you were sure your legs were about to give up on you, your knees buckling under the turmoil of emotions that ran through your body. 

“I just don’t understand.” You squeaked out, turning your head to see Alexia who looked like a kicked puppy. 

“I am sorry. I-I- she means nothing to me. I swear.” She slowly walked over to you but stopped when you moved away.

You didn't believe her. You would never believe her again.

“You’ve been doing this for months, months Alexia! Lying to me for fucking months, seeing this girl behind my fucking back!” You screamed. Your chest was heaving with anger.

Alexia didn't say anything, what could she say? She stood there looking like she could be sick, the colour draining from her face.

“You asked me to marry you, Alexia. I have a ring on my finger because I love you. Don’t you love me? What have I done wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you had blamed yourself, but it felt like you needed to know. 

Alexia looked panicked, your words clearly making her wince. “No! I do love you! I-I- she is nothing. It’s just sex. It’s just a big mistake. I don’t know why I did it!”

That hurt. You would have some kind of understanding if you and Alexia didn't have sex, but you did. Yeah, of course it wasnt every night, or even every week but you were still intimate. So this must have been more than sex.  

You shook your head, you didn’t believe that, not anymore. You felt so small as your world began to crumble around you. The blonde was now by your side, catching you before you dropped to your knees. 

What was happening? How was this your life right now? It wasn't meant to be like this. Alexia was never meant to be the one that broke your heart.

“Baby, please. I’m here.” She grabbed your body pulling you into hers. 

You had a burning urge to hold her, you wanted to feel safe in her arms like you always did, but you felt weird, her arms didn't feel right anymore. It made you feel sick, you could feel your stomach churning as you pictured Alexia holding your opposite. You flinched away like she was made of fire. 

“Here? You’re here? You havent been here, you’ve been creeping around fucking some girl and god knows how many others behind my back! Don’t you dare say you’re ‘here’. You screamed so loud the neighbours would have heard every word.

Let them hear.

Alexia shrank at your words. You hated that you felt bad. She was the one that had hurt you.

“Why? Just tell me why? Am I not enough?” You felt like you swallowed a stone with that question. 

Alexia sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. It made you realise how little you saw the girl cry. 

“You are everything and more, I swear it. I….I panicked.” Her accent grew thicker as her words shook in her throat.

“What? Panicked for what?” You questioned. 

“After I proposed.” She took a breath for air, her hazel eyes looked more green after she cried. “I panicked and got scared. It was only meant to be once, but then we started planning the wedding. It got more real and I-I just didn't know how to stop.”

“You asked me to marry you!” You said in disbelief. 

“I know! And I still want to!” She whispered.

You scoffed. This girl had some fucking nerve.

“Why would I marry someone who can lie to my face every night? Lie about where she is? Touch someone else and lay in bed with me the same night!” 

The neighbours were definitely getting a show now.

Alexia dragged her face, her puffy lips wet with tears. How could she still look so beautiful?

“I’m sorry. It was all just a big mistake I swear!” She moved closer to you. “Please, amor, forgive me! I have not been myself, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I want to marry you and be with you! You are my world, my everything! Please! Please forgive me! Please.” She was hardly breathing, her gasps of air were short as the tears came pouring out of her. She dropped to her knees in front of you, her crying getting louder and louder, you thought she might be having a panic attack. 

Your own tears fell from your eyes as you watched the woman you love break down in front of you, you wanted to believe her, but your trust had shattered the moment you read those words. How could you trust her again?

“Alexia.” You whispered her name as you put your hand on her arm. 

The blonde looked up, her wide hazel eyes bore into yours. She looked so tired. She put her hand over yours and stood, her face inches from yours. 

“Babita, please. Please. I love you so much, give me another chance.”

Her large hands came up to your face, you allowed her to wipe the ever flowing tears from your cheeks. Even though it was Alexia who had broken your heart you still needed comfort, you still wanted to feel her. You still loved her.

She took you not moving for a good sign, taking her chances and gently cupping your cheeks. 

“Please, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am such a fool, you’re everything I want. I love you so much. I can’t do this without you.” 

She moved closer to you. Her familiar smell washed over you, she smelt like home. She wrapped you up in a tight hug, you felt yourself lean into her, you didn't know why. Maybe because your whole world had just been turned upside down and you needed to feel something, even if she was the culprit that caused you all this pain.

A couple of minutes passed by, all in silence other than a couple of sniffles from you and Alexia. And in those minutes you weren't sure where you went, it felt like you had left your own body. Like this was all just a big weird dream and you were about to wake up and see that it was all a mistake, see that this wasn't real. 

Maybe you were having a panic attack.

Alexia stroked your hair as your tears still fell, the front of her jumper was wet from your face but you only snuggled more into her.

You hated yourself for it. Why were you so weak? Why were you not screaming and calling her all the names under the sun for breaking your heart? For ruining your self confidence, for making you question everything you thought you knew. Why can’t you do it? 

“Alexia.” You whispered into her jumper.

“Sí, carino?” 

“You-you’ve broken me.” Your voice cracked as more tears came.

Alexia’s tears also sprung to her eyes as she heard your words, her arms held you tighter. She took a big shuddery breath before she kissed your head. “I’m so sorry. I will be sorry that I hurt you, until the day I die.” She confessed. 

Her words didn’t comfort you, not really. They made you wonder about the future you had planned with Alexia. The future you had once been so excited to share with the girl. Now all gone. 

“I will fix this, I will, amor. Please, let me fix this.”

You felt Alexia press her lips on the top of your head. You tried to ignore the warm feeling that swirled inside your stomach. It felt like you were losing a battle with your brain and body. You closed your eyes as a soft kiss was placed on your temple. It was the same spot Alexia kissed every morning. It was so familiar, and yet it felt different. Does it feel different? Or was your brain trying to protect you?

“You’re my world. I promise you I will fix everything.” She whispered into your ear.

Your lips quivered before a small sob escaped your mouth. You felt your eyes release a new wave of tears at her words of declaration, you wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe this could be fixed. Could it? 

Sad watery eyes met yours as you looked up at the girl in front of you. Her hands held your face. It was just you and her, staring at the other. This was the face you wanted to watch grow old. The face you wanted to wake up to everyday. The face you wanted to have by your side for the rest of your life. Now it almost felt like you were looking at a stranger.

Alexia placed her hand under your chin, moving your face to her own. Your body stiffened when you felt her lips press against your own. 

“No.” You whispered weakly as you pulled back.

“Please, don’t do this. I love you with all my heart. Please don’t let this break us.” The blonde whispered as she stroked your face. 

Alexia pulled back slightly to look at your face, her glassy eyes scanned your features, taking in every detail of you. You felt exposed. Completely open to her. It made you feel vulnerable. Alexia had been your world for so long. She made you feel real love for the first time. A love that made you feel protected, seen. 

“I love you.” 

Your brain screamed to run. Leave. Don’t let her fool you. This wasn't right, you knew it wasn't. But your heart didn't agree as you let her kiss you again. The kiss was everything you knew. Her lips were a safe blanket that you could wrap yourself around in. This was what you knew, how were you going to give this up? 

“I love you.” She whispered against your lips as she gently pushed you against the kitchen side. 

“Alexia-”

“Please. I can fix this.” She pleaded as her voice cracked with desperation. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, her body leaning more into you. She closed her eyes but the tears still managed to escape as they dropped on your t-shirt and seeped into the fabric. 

You didn't say anything. All the words you had ever known escaped your brain, leaving you empty. Everything you had planned, all the questions. Gone. You were more ready this time when her lips sunk into yours again, you even opened your mouth, allowing her to push a gentle tongue against yours. You could taste the salt from her tears that stained her lips. 

What were you doing? Why were you letting her in? 

Because you loved her, you loved her with everything you had. Because you were a fool.

Her mouth cascaded down from yours to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your skin as she made her way down to your neck. You hated yourself when a small groan left your mouth, but it turned into a small whimper as another sob escaped you.

Run.

But you couldn’t, your heart was broken, you needed to feel something, you needed Alexia, she was the one that made everything better, she was the one you went to if you ever felt upset. She was your light. She was who you needed. You just wanted to feel loved even though this wasn't what love was.

Your hands gripped her shirt when she came back to your mouth, you weren't sure if you were going to push her or away or pull her closer. Her kisses grew more desperate once she heard the groan you made, thinking this was the only way to have you back. 

She easily moved you from the kitchen to the bedroom, all while her lips attacked your neck and mouth, making you gasp for air. Your mind was a blur, a blur of pain and hurt. A blur of confusion. 

Your head was throbbing from the headache you caused yourself from crying. You tried to ignore it like the way you ignored the voice in your head telling you to stop this. But you didn't listen.

“I love you. I love you. I can fix us.” Alexia kept chanting.

She laid you on the bed as she slowly removed your joggers. You felt the tears run down your puffy lips, as you reached out for her needing her close to you again. But you couldn't look at her. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the girl you loved and hated.

Both yours and Alexias lips were puffy and swollen from tears. You felt your lips split as you licked them, stinging your plump flesh, you tried to focus on it as Alexia connected your lips once more before she began to move down your body.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much, babita. Let me make you feel good.”

You felt your breath hitch as the blonde kissed on your stomach. The familiar feeling of her body pressing on yours grounded you more than you would have thought. You almost forgot about why you were crying. You nearly didn't feel the pain that sunk into every fiber of your body. Nearly.

Her hazel eyes looked up at you as she moved further down. But you looked away, you felt shame flood your chest as you allowed her to remove your underwear. 

“I love you.” She mumbled against your skin. 

You gasped as you felt her tongue swipe through your folds. Your eyes started to wet again as you felt her mouth on you. Her hands gripped at your thighs, pushing you open as she gently licked at your sex. 

You felt everything and nothing. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, wanting to feel Alexia, but wanting nothing to do with her at the same time. You just wanted to feel something. It was an absolute mind fuck. And yet you opened your legs further as the girl wrapped her lips around your clit. 

Alexia stroked your thighs as she used her mouth on you. She kissed your clit before sinking her tongue into your cunt. You felt the way she groaned, probably from tasting your essence as it melted on her tongue. Your own body betrayed you. 

Your thighs started to shake as you felt that familiar swirl start to wash over your body. Alexia could tell straight away. She grabbed your hands that would have normally sunk into her hair by now and placed them on her head. You looked down from the touch, Alexia’s eyes were puffy from crying. She looked at you with a look you didn't recognise. 

Was it regret? Was it hope? Was it guilt for being caught?

Your fingers flexed loosely in her hair as your thighs started to shake. Your orgasm was building but you could tell it wasn't the same, it felt like it didnt know where to go. Or why it was even there. But you let her finish, you let her suck and lick your bud until your body shook against the bed. Your orgasm trickled over your body, leaving you feeling worse than you did. Alexia stayed between your legs to clean you up. 

You felt your chest tighten and your throat close up as a wave of sadness pulled you down. When Alexia reached your face it felt like you were drowning, it must have been your own cries as you shuddered against the bed. 

“Baby, please. Please, I’m here.” 

You grabbed Alexia's hand and pushed it between your legs, you needed to feel something. You still wanted to feel her. You didn't want to feel this sadness that was taking over your body.

Anything. Please feel anything.

“Please.” You begged as you pulled her closer to kiss you.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” She whispered before your lips locked.

Alexia circled your clit a few times before she dipped a single finger into you. You let out a small groan, you could feel you were tight. She pumped her fingers as she kissed your neck, you tried to ignore the tears that fell from her eyes onto your skin.

You hissed as she pushed another finger in. 

“Ho sento. I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to your lips as she moved her fingers slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed her shoulders as she started to open you up. Her eyes fixed on your face as you closed your own, trying your best to escape today's nightmare. 

“I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” She mumbled into your neck.

Her fingers got deeper as she moved faster. You finally started to float away as you felt nothing but her inside you, putting all your focus on this one feeling. 

“I will marry you. I want you to have my babies. Please let me.” She started to cry as she fucked you. 

Before you could register what she was saying you let out a loud gasp when she pushed a third finger inside you, but she knew it wasn't a painful gasp. She knew your body, she knew you. Your head dipped back in the pillow as you felt your second orgasm start to rise. Your small whimpers gave you away to the girl above as your nails dug into her arms.

“That's it baby. You’re so good.” She peppered kisses all over your face as she encouraged you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm fast apoached. Your thighs shook against Alexia's hips once her thumb began to circle your clit. You felt it. You felt something. other than sadness, just for a few seconds. 

“Don’t stop!’ You begged as your orgasm rushed over you.

“I’m here. I’m here.” Alexia coed at you.

You saw stars as your pussy clenched tightly around the thick fingers. Time stood still as everything went quiet. No voices in your head. No sadness that took over your senses. Your tears stopped for just a moment as you relaxed into the mattress. All the pressure that your body had taken was finally melting away. 

You winced a little as Alexia removed her fingers as gently as she could. You slumped back into the pillow, taking a deep breath of air. You stared at the ceiling before you felt the blonde slot herself next to you. 

“Turn around, amor.” Her breath ghosted the lose her on your neck.

 You slowly moved, you knew she wanted to hold you and you let her without question. 

Was this really your life? Was this really you?

Familiar hands started to stroke your hair. You could feel how stiff Alexia’s body was behind you, maybe she was scared to move in case she frightened you away. 

“I love you.” She whispered again.

You didn't respond. You felt her arm snaking around your side, her hand looking for your own. You didn't think before you gave her what she wanted, her thumb instantly stroked your knuckles. It wasn't long before your tired and sore eyes started to close. 

An hour later you woke up as Alexia stirred behind you, sleeping soundly. You moved as slowly as you could, creeping out the bed as lightly as you could. You grabbed your clothes that you had waiting on the side, along with your suitcase that Alexia missed when she pulled you into the bedroom.

You looked over at her sleeping form, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, a small frown sat between her brows. She looked beautiful. You almost wanted to climb back in the bed. But you stayed strong. 

“I love you.” You whispered to your lover.

The tears started to form again, quickly falling over your cheeks. You felt sick as you carried your suitcase to the front door. What were you doing? Was this the right thing? Yes. She cheated on you! She’s broken your heart. She doesn't love you like you thought she did. Leave. 

You took a deep shuddery breath before you removed your engagement ring and left it on the side, with the keys to Alexia's apartment next to them. You took one last glance over your shoulder, the Christmas tree caught your eyes as it flickering in the corner. You gently shut the door behind you, a loud sob escaped you as you left everything you thought was your future behind you.

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

[itneverendshere]

okay we know rafes help reader in situations like with electricity and no car and such. but maybe it’s the first time where he knows he’s in love with her and she’s the one for him, where she doesn’t go to him for any help. and it’s maybe like not having enough money to buy groceries for herself, or how she walks to work still bc she can’t afford gas. and he gets so mad, and she thinks it’s an inconvenience to him. but it’s actually because rafe will always be there for her, and no matter what the problem is , he can fix it just for her

you got me overnight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(bartender!reader universe) warnings: first fight and confession 🫂

Rafe knew convincing you he was worth a shot was the easiest part of your relationship.

You were absolutely perfect, made to be his. He could picture you right now, how you’d smile at his stupid jokes, the warmth of your hand in his, or how you’d send him those random "good morning" texts that made his day. You were everything.

You cared about people, about him. You gave a shit, that was something new for him. He never thought he’d get someone like you, you made him want to be better.

Months later, and he was hooked. Totally gone. You were the real deal for him. Every time his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, he smiled like a fucking idiot.

So when you dropped it on him, casually, that you'd been walking to work because you didn’t have the gas money while he’d been away on a family holiday, it set off something inside him.

You said it like it was no big deal, just another part of your day.

He was losing it over the idea of you walking to work, sweating it out while he was chilling on vacation, it made him sick. He didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him earlier or call for help.

Why didn’t you call him? He could’ve handled it in a second, from across the world if he had to, no problem. You didn’t need to be doing stuff like that. 

“You’ve been walking to work?”

“Yeah… it’s fine. It’s not far,” you replied, brushing it off.

It wasn't nothing, Rafe knew how far your walk was. Your house was exactly around the corner, you didn’t have to be doing this. Even if he hadn’t been there for the past week to give you a ride as he usually did, he could’ve taken care of it.

He was always here for you, even when he wasn’t physically there.

Rafe gripped the counter, hoping to keep his frustration under control, for your sake. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t tell me you were low on gas.”

You gave a little shrug, as if that was the end of the conversation.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s not your problem.”

Didn’t wanna bother him? Not his problem? You were his problem, the best kind of problem, and he couldn’t understand why you thought you had to handle everything by yourself.

It pissed him off to no end—not you, but the fact that you were struggling in silence. It felt like you didn’t trust him to be there for you, to lean on him when you needed something.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” His voice came out harsher than what he'd hoped for, and you froze, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Chill,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. “I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it. I can handle it.”

That wasn’t the point, you shouldn’t have to handle it when you had him. You were supposed tocome to him when things like this came up. That’s what being together meant.

It was crazy to him. Every part of him wanted to protect you, make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything like this on your own. The thought of you walking to work—tired, probably stressed out—while he was away doing nothing important...he hated it.

"You don’t have to handle it, though," he argued, still frustrated “That’s the thing. I want to help. I need to help. When you're struggling, that's my problem too. I wanna be there for you. Always.”

You looked at him like he was overreacting, making something out of nothing.

“Baby, it’s not that serious. It’s just a couple of walks. You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. "It's not about the fucking walks. It's the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me. Like I wouldn’t care.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples, tired of this conversation already.

“I didn’t wanna bother you. You were on vacation. I didn’t want to stress you out over something so small.”

He didn’t know why it irked him so badly, but it did. “You’re serious? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” 

You shifted on your feet, already defensive. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I figured I’d handle it.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” he snapped, stepping closer to you, his hand gesturing wildly. “You figured you’d handle it? What the fuck? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about something like this?”

“Because it’s stupid gas money, Rafe!” you fired back, “I didn’t wanna bother you with something so small! You were gone, and I didn’t want to make it a whole fucking thing.”

He could hear the anger in your voice, but it just made him furious.

You thought you were protecting him from being “bothered,” but all it did was make him feel like you didn’t need him. Did you not think he could help? Or worse, you didn’t want him to.

“Small? Are you fucking kiddin’ me? You walked to work for how many days, in the heat, probably tired as fuck, and you think that’s small?” His voice was rising, he hated that he couldn’t control it, but he was too worked up. “It’s not the gas money. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. You kept it to yourself, like I’m just some fucking dude who’s not in your life like that.”

“Rafe, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I didn’t need to tell you because I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not what this is about!” He nearly shouted, eyes wide with desbelief. “This isn’t you being helpless or not! It’s you not letting me be there for you, not letting me help you when things get tough. Shit. That’s what this is, what we are. You don’t fucking get it.”

“I do fucking get it, Rafe!” You gritted back, your eyes burning with misplaced anger. “I don’t need to run to you every time something goes wrong. I’m not gonna fall apart because of a few days without a car.”

He was grinding his teeth now, trying to keep his composure but failing miserably. “You didn’t even think to lean on me! You didn’t trust me enough to just call and say, ‘Hey baby, I’m low on gas. Can you help?’ You shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “I did figure it out! I walked. It wasn’t a huge disaster. I made it work.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the kitchen. “Why can’t you get that? You don’t have to handle shit like this alone! I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re acting like I don’t care about us because I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I care, Rafe. I can deal with things on my own, too. I’m not gonna dump every little problem on you like it’s your job to fix it for me."

Rafe shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time, pacing because he couldn’t stand still.

“It is my job, though. That’s the whole fucking point. I’m supposed to be the one you come to when things go wrong sweets, big or small. I’m supposed to be the one who makes your life easier, not the guy you hide stuff from.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, “Hide? Seriously? You think I’m hiding things from you? It was gas money, Rafe, not a dark secret.”

“It feels like it, though,” he shot back, voice cracking, “It feels like you don’t trust me. I’m not… am I not enough for you to depend on?”

You went silent at that, your arms dropping to your sides. “That’s not fair,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?" He scoffed, "It feel like it is. I’m out here thinking I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back, but you’re out there, dealing with stuff alone. It makes me feel… I’m not even part of your life like that.”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, stepping toward him, the fight drained out of your voice. “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to worry. Not because I don’t trust you. I thought I was helping by not making you deal with it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Helping? You think it helps me to know you’re struggling and didn’t say anything? That’s not helping. Shit, that’s torture, baby. I’d rather know and fix it than find out after and feel like an idiot because I wasn’t there.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, exhaustion settling in.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious to me,” He confessed, the anger ebbing away, leaving only the hurt behind. “Because I love you, and when you love someone, you don’t want them to handle things alone. You want to be there, always.”

You froze, eyes wide as you gawked at him.

What? He hadn’t planned to say it like this, in the middle of a fight, but there it was.

“I love you,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I need you to understand that means I’m here. For all of it. No matter how small it seems.”

He said it. He loved you. It asn’t the perfect timing, but at least it was out of his chest. This man who had always been so intense, fiercely protective, was looking at you like you held his entire world in your hands. And you did.

He loved you, almost too much and it was what you felt for him too.

It's why you didn't ask for help, you didn’t want to burden him with every problem. You thought you were protecting him.

Now, standing there, you realized maybe you’d gotten it wrong.

“You l-love me?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he shook his head, bracing himself for rejection.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning away, “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I just needed you to know.”

“No.” You stepped forward, reaching for his hand before he could pull completely away. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just say it and walk away like I’m not standing right here.”

His gaze shot back to yours, confused and a little bit guarded.

“I love you too,” you said, the words feeling right as soon as they left your lips. You squeezed his hand, needing him to feel it. “I love you, okay? I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought I was being strong, handling things on my own. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t need you. I do need you,” you continued, “And I know now that I should’ve called, let you help me, because that’s what we do. We’re a team, but I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he all but yanked you into his arms, his grip desperate. You melted into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the calming thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re not a burden. You’ll never be a burden. I just—I need you to let me be there for you. I don’t care what it is. Big or small, I wanna know. I wanna help.”

You nodded against him, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his skin calm you.

“Okay. I promise.”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. There was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before—relief, but more than that, love. He felt you relax, your body molding into his.

“Say it again,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled, hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “I love you, Rafe.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I need you to get something,” He said, voice much calmer now “When I say I love you, I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I’m in this, all the way.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide “I—” you started, but he shook his head.

“No, listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re everything. And I love you for it. I love every single part of you.”

He felt his chest tighten as he said it, the words were coming from somewhere so deep inside him that he hadn’t even realized they were there until now. He didn’t just love you—he needed you.

You grinned, your eyes glistening a little. “This… it feels so big. Holy shit, bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“That’s because it is,” Rafe nodded, “It’s the biggest thing in the world to me. You are.”

Your breath hitched as you reached up, cupping his face with your hands, and for the first time since the fight started, Rafe felt like you were really seeing him. All of him—the guy who was scared out of his mind at how much he needed you, but who was willing to do anything to keep you close.

“I love you too,” you said it again, your voice shaking a smidge as you said it. “I’m sorry.”

 “We’re in this together,” he kissed your palm, “No more going through stuff alone. Not you, not me. We’ve got each other now.”

You smiled, and Rafe felt like he could breathe again for the first time all night.

“Deal."

Right there, he knew that everything was going to be okay, you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his person. 

[iwantyouto-eatme]

-PRETTY DEER

description! being trapped in the wilderness with a pretty girl makes it just the slightest bit better. oneshot!!

parings! natalie scatorccio x reader

contents! usual yellowjackets shenanigans, making out, fluff, slightly suggestive at the end, wlw, use of y/n.

not proofread

it had been 6 months since the crash.

6 months since all the chaos erupted.

6 months since you were forced to be around the prettiest girl in the school.

natalie was gorgeous to say the least. her bleached shag that complimented her warm brown eyes.

she wasn’t unaware of the looks you’d been giving her. she was actually quite aware of it. you hadn’t tried to hide it though.

whenever you and the girls would be sitting around the fire you’d intentionally perch yourself across from her, just to get a good look at her without anyone else really noticing it. even though you’d already been stuck with these girls for so long, you were still a little afraid of their judging eyes.

“hey y/n” nat said, deadpan from the other side of the muddy creek you were sitting at, trying to clean the blood off your bodies after the eventful night you’d had beforehand.

“oh hey nat. you alright?” you asked, trying to start small talk to get some sort of conversation going.

“yeah im splendid” adding an eye roll to the end of her sentence. “im shit but i don’t think that’s new”

“makes sense” you said. “do you wanna maybe go on a walk? i need to dry off and im really not in the mood to sit all day”

“sure” nat said, suprisingly accepting your offer.

-

the walk was calm. slight conversation flowing between the two of you. it was awkward to say the least. nat knew that you had been staring her down lately and you could tell now that she knew.

“yk im not blind” nat says simply

“what”

“i can see you staring. i have seen you staring. if you wanna fuck just say it” she says with a giggle, playfully shoving you.

“um… i uh just think you’re pretty. it’s nothing more than that” you say trying to convince yourself that’s all it is.

“yeah sure. i think you’re quite pretty too y/n” a small smile creeps onto nats face. it’s rare to see her smile like this, but you thought it was the most gorgeous sight ever.

the wilderness had been quite difficult for the two girls alike.

nat had been trying to help lead the girls and try to not all die. she had been doing quite well so far and wanted to make sure that stayed that way.

y/n just wanted to get out of that place one way or another. she didn’t care if she was rescued or killed. death did surely seem the easiest way out in this situation.

“were you with anyone before we left?” nat asked, genuinely curious about the girls life. she never was that close with her before. yeah sure they played on the same team and everything but y/n spent most of her time around jackie and shauna. not really nats favourite crowd.

“uh no. i liked someone but i never really got to talk to them before we left so i guess nothing could ever happen between us”

“do you still like them?”

the second of silence between nats question and y/n’s answer was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“yes.”

“so it’s someone here?” natalie was now extremely curious about who y/n’s mystery crush was.

“maybe maybe not. you’ll have to figure that one out nat.”

nat didn’t want to admit it but the way y/n said her name with such grace made her heart flutter in a way that it only ever once did for the boys she had a crush on when she was young.

crush

that’s definitely not what it is she barley even knew the girl.

but the way the soft afternoon glow of the sun hit y/n’s skin in a way that made her shimmer, the way her curls that still looked perfect without any product in them gently blew in the wind. she was in awe.

“you still there nat?” y/n asked seeing nat completely fazed looking at y/n’s face.

“oh uh yeah i am” nat said. “just looking at you”

y/n felt her face flush with red.

“lemme show you a spot travis used to take me to”

the way she said that made y/n realise that her dreams may just be about to come true.

she remembered how in love nat and travis used to be. until he was a dick. y/n lost her trust in him the second she saw how horrible he was to nat. if she ever wanted a chance with the girl they had to have a shared hatred for someone.

“ugh I can’t stand travis anymore” y/n said.

“oh my god tell me about it! his whiny voice just makes me wanna shoot him”

the two girls shared stories about eachother that even within the 6 months of being stuck around eachother had not learnt yet.

“there was a time during training once that i forgot my boots and had to play with my cheap ass sneakers and I fell over so many times!” y/n exclaimed.

“i actually remember that! you were so stupid! actually correction, you’re still stupid”

“what! this is not okay what are you talking about”

“look at you right now. can’t even tell what im trying to do” natalie says, slowing down when the two reached a large tree. the initials “t + n” lay etched onto the tree messily. it was all you could notice while nat picked up a stick from the ground.

gently moving you out of the way, she came close to the tree and etched a large x over her and her exes initials.

“why did you do that?” y/n asked.

“i wanna start fresh, you know start something new.”

her hand then wrote onto the tree “n + (ur initial)”

once nat had written that she turned back to you, your eyes widened in shock. clearly confused on why nat would write your name.

“y/n, i know we’ve like never really properly spoken before today, but i really really like you. i wanna know you, inside and out.”

nats words sparked something in y/n and she moved closer towards her, backing her up against the tree.

“oh yeah?” y/n said with a hint of flirting laced in it. she never knew this side of her could come out but for the girl she had been admiring for months, she’d do anything.

“yeah” nat said, barley a whisper.

y/n then, in an attempt to close the gap of awkwardness between the two, pressed her lips against natalies.

the two moved in a way that was almost whimsical. everything that the two had gone through over the last few months disappeared behind the two lovers, mouths moving in sync with the wind howling around them.

“nat! finally i found you we’ve been waiting for ever for you to-“ jackie yelled, pausing the second she saw the two girls passionately making out.

the two broke apart, readjusting their clothes and brushing their hair behind their ears.

“calm down i knew this would happen eventually. glad you stopped eye fucking eachother and just did it” jackie giggles as she walks back towards the groups site.

y/n and nat looked between eachother, a silent agreement that they’d continue all this when they got alone time next, and that maybe next time it would go just the slightest further.

“is this the right time to tell you that id so take you against this tree?” nat whispers into y/n’s ear. enough to get her flustered but able to leave her wanting more.

the two walked back, hand in hand. “i can’t wait to get to know you y/n.”

“i can’t wait to get to know you too nat”

the girls just hoped they’d live to know each-other as much as they wanted.

a/n! first story on here i hope u guys like it :3 pls give me feedback and/or requests writers block is so real. i have a series in mind i wanna do pre-crash!nat x reader story inspired by 10 things i hate about you. if i ever get to finishing writing it ill 100% post it!

[formulaonecrumbs]

Would you be okay with a lando x male!reader where they meet at a kids’ karting event, where lando was invited for a special appearance or something like that? The little girl who wins the race gets to take a picture with him and get his autograph, and that’s how Lando meets the reader, who is her dad. They start talking, going out, and eventually start dating?

unexpected laps 🏁

Lando Norris x single-dad!reader

summary: lando goes to a kids’ karting event for a quick pr appearance and unexpectedly meets a single dad who changes everything.

warnings: PURE fluff, meet-cute, use of y/n

A/N: thanks for request anon!!! i never write fics where it’s y/n but for this one i felt it was necessary cuz i wanted to make sure that during the fic u could tell that ‘reader’ was a guy so 🤷‍♀️ also i don’t typically write in third person, lemme know if it’s not too cringe. but other than that i loved this req, it was too cute. sorry i’m posting it so late, i rewrote it like 50 fucking times. ENJOY, MY LOVES ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the last thing lando expected when he got roped into making a surprise appearance at a local kids’ karting event was to meet someone who made him want to stick around for more than just the photo ops.

it had started out like any other pr thing. a few hours in his mclaren gear, smiling for pictures, signing miniature helmets, crouching beside kids with wide eyes and dreams bigger than their bodies. lando didn’t mind it, not really. he loved seeing that spark—the one he remembered having when he was their age. but by the time the final race came around, he was already checking his watch.

and then she came flying across the finish line.

this tiny blur of pink and orange, with wild curls sticking out from her helmet and arms raised in victory like she’d just won monaco. she practically leapt out of the kart before it had even come to a full stop, bouncing on her toes as she pulled her helmet off and ran to her dad.

and that was when lando saw him.

he was kneeling beside her, beaming like she’d just won the championship. she flung herself into his arms and he caught her like it was the easiest thing in the world, spinning her once before setting her down and ruffling her hair.

“you were so fast!” he laughed. “i think you might’ve scared the rest of the grid.”

she grinned, proud and breathless. “i was pretending i was you!”

he chuckled. “i wish i was that cool.”

and then, like some cosmic joke, the announcer’s voice echoed across the track: “and the winner gets a signed photo and a picture with lando norris!”

his daughter screamed.

lando blinked. and before he could really process it, she was dragging her dad by the hand toward him, practically vibrating with excitement.

“hi!” she beamed up at him, cheeks still flushed from racing. “i’m mia! you’re lando! i won!”

“hi mia,” he smiled, crouching to her level. “you were flying out there! nice moves on turn four.”

she gasped. “you saw that?!”

“of course i did. couldn’t miss it.”

and that’s when lando met his eyes. he looked a little apologetic, a little amused, and—a little shy.

“sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “she’s a big fan. we both are, actually.”

lando stood, brushing his palms on his jeans. “don’t apologize. she’s got talent. you’re her coach?”

he laughed. “more like her chauffeur and snack provider. she tells me what to do, really.”

he had a nice voice. warm, steady, playful.

“i’m lando,” he said, even though that was obvious.

“yeah, i got that part,” he teased, then offered his hand. “i’m y/n.”

when lando shook his hand, he noticed the way his fingers were calloused but gentle, like he worked with his hands but still knew how to hold something carefully. it did something weird to his chest.

he stuck around longer than he was supposed to. took a picture with mia, signed her helmet, even let her sit in the demo kart he’d driven in earlier. but every time he looked up, he found y/n watching him. not in a creepy way. in a curious, thoughtful way, like he was trying to figure lando out.

lando liked it more than he should’ve.

at some point, while mia was showing another kid her medal, lando found himself standing beside y/n again, both of them watching her from the edge of the track.

“she’s got a good teacher,” lando said.

y/n raised an eyebrow. “i told you, i just buy the juice boxes.”

lando smiled. “still. she’s lucky.”

he glanced at him. “and what about you? lucky day?”

lando looked at him. “wasn’t expecting to meet someone interesting at a karting track today, so yeah. lucky.”

y/n laughed. “mm… smooth.”

“you like it?”

“maybe.”

lando hesitated for half a second before blurting, “can i get your number?”

y/n blinked, then smiled. “you’re asking for mine before i can ask for yours?”

“beat you to the finish line,” lando grinned.

he gave him his number.

the first few texts were casual. jokes about mia being faster than him, memes about go-karts and juice boxes, the occasional photo of her holding up her latest karting trophy with a look that could kill. lando sent a selfie once, hair a mess and tongue sticking out, with the caption: think i can beat her now?

y/n replied: not a chance.

and then lando asked him out.

nothing crazy. just coffee after one of mia’s saturday races. she was busy running laps around the parking lot with her new karting friends while they sat on the curb with two paper cups between them, knees bumping sometimes, smiles lingering a little longer than they used to.

“you sure about this?” y/n asked quietly, eyes on his daughter across the lot.

lando looked at him. “about what?”

“me. the dad. the kid. the juice boxes.”

he nudged y/n’s arm. “i’m in it for the juice boxes, honestly.”

y/n gave him a look.

“i’m sure,” lando said. “about all of it.”

dating lando was easy in ways y/n didn’t expect. sure, there were complications—paparazzi, travel, the occasional insecurity about being the guy he chose in a world that expected him to date models. but there was also his laugh in y/n’s kitchen, his fingers brushing his when he helped with dishes, the way he always carried an extra hoodie for mia in his bag “just in case.”

she adored him. and lando adored her back.

he never overstepped. never tried to be more than y/n was comfortable with. he just showed up—cheering from the sidelines at her races, offering advice when she asked, helping her untangle her hair when it got caught in her helmet strap.

and when the three of them curled up on the couch at the end of the day, mia fast asleep on y/n’s chest, lando would wrap an arm around him and whisper, “this… this feels right.”

and somehow, it always did.

y/n didn’t expect to fall for him so fast. but maybe it was how lando looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, even when he had the whole world watching. maybe it was how he made his daughter laugh louder than he’d ever heard. or maybe it was just him—the way he stayed, showed up, chose them.

again and again.

and when he kissed y/n in the quiet of his kitchen one night, soft and slow, like he’d been waiting for the right moment, he knew this wasn’t just a lucky day.

this was the start of something real.

THE END :>

[alicentsgf]

I always thought it meant this in a way, that it represented them, but I think this is actually the formula for how.

Like Shauna and Lottie told us, there is no "it", it was always just them. So regardless of whether this symbol has some ritualistic or practical meaning within the actual story (such as being a map), I think more than anything this symbol was chosen to look like it does because it mirrors the positions on a soccer field. It represents them because thats what this story has always really been about. It represents the team they had before they (both literally and figuratively) cannablised themselves.

Soccer is a perfectly balanced sport. At the moment the starting whistle goes for the two teams on a soccer field you can halve that field any way you like and get 11 players placed evenly across 11 different positions, each side a mirror of the other. The Yellowjackets however have always been innately lacking balance. Because of what some of them were willing to do to Allie, as well as the other already visible fractures in the team, they were unbalanced before they even got on the plane. In that way they were already working against nature, against the "wilderness", because isnt nature all about balance? Ecosystems, food chains, and life cycles, everything has an ebb and flow. Every animal has its specialised role in its environment, just like the players in a soccer game.

I've spoken a lot on here about the major themes in this show and what it all might mean, but ultimately what it boils down to in my opinion is they should have listened to Nat from the start. They should have "played like a fucking team and won". It was the only thing that could have possibly saved them because regardless of some supernatural force or not, it wasn't the wilderness that killed anyone, it was them. They made it possible. Their constant ostracisation and rejection of each other. "Freezing out" Allie (figuratively) becomes "Freezing out" Jackie (literally). The way they repeatedly push out the "weak", the least useful, the easiest (gentlest) targets until all there is left to do is turn on each other instead. Fracturing completely. Now we see the teens in season 3 splitting into factions, making 3 or 4 seperate gameplans that end up conflicting in the worst possible way all because they couldn't trust one another. If they'd just worked as a team/communicated then Mari wouldnt have died. All of them killed her in the end, even Mari herself contributed.

It's like Lottie said to Mari right before she fell. Shes been here before, she could let it be different, but then it isnt. It happens again, and again, and again. Allie, Jackie, Javi, Ben; "You want to freeze her out?", "Jackie didn't say it", "He's not one of us", pushing them out one by one until the whole team is so unbalanced it fractures irreparably, reflected in the way the symbol appears in the fracture of Misty's glasses the night they hunt the outsiders - the night that marks the end of this symbiotic little society they've created, suddenly divided by a reminder of home. We see it in Misty's ostracisation right from the pilot, their inability to treat her as a teammate. Its the reason they're even stuck there in the first place. Misty being so desperate to hold onto her first taste of community and acceptance that she destroys the transponder. Them all isolating Shauna in her grief and guilt, othering Lottie in her illness, its all the same thing. Its what dooms them every time.

So many opportunities to make a different choice and they never do. They make the same mistake a hundred times over. Thats the essence of tragedy though, because of course it could be different, they could make a different choice, but they won't. They are who they are. Who they've always been.

"It never meant what you thought it meant," doesn't just apply to the necklace. All this time demonising and rejecting this symbol like they demonised and rejected each other, but it doesn't mean what they think. Thematically speaking it's not a curse, or a warning, its a representation of the only thing that could have saved them.

[mochinomnoms]

If requests are open...👉👈

I was thinking of a scenario, you know how Yuu was isekai'd pretty late into the educational track (US High School/UK College kinda late), that's a lot of years of basic education that their missing. I can imagine them getting tutoring from say, Riddle, Azul or even Jamil (though if you can think of anyone else in this scenario, go nuts) and he just...kinda makes a comment about like, "How can you not know about The Chess Wars, Yuu? This is Primary School level stuff"! Or something and Yuu just...loses it on him. Kinda in a "Do you have ANY idea how smart I am to be keeping my head above water when Grims dragging it down, I've got YEARS of schooling to catch up on AND my job working for Crowly!? Let me ask you about any part of MY worlds history and see how smart you are"

Or something. This has been an idea in my head for a while and words are hard today...💦

(I write NRC a college/university level so that's how this will be written as)

“This is basic history! Really Prefect,” Ace never failed to make fun of you, and lately he'd been focusing in on your abysmal grades. “Even Juice knows about the Chess Wars! And he's skipped like, all of middle school!”

Deuce glared at Ace kicked him out from under the table, though Riddle actually seemed to agree with him.

“I do have to admit, Ace is correct. Prefect, even students like Ruggie and Epel know the basics, this is inexcusable of a student of Night Raven College!”

Riddle had his arms cross, tapping a finger on his arm impatiently as you looked off to the side with a blank expression. Grim was, to no one's surprise, asleep in their lap.

Of course, Grim's 'responsibility' were the magic based classes. The Prefect had, literally, everything else.

“…Well? What do you even have to say for yourself?” Riddle narrowed his eyes at them, huffing.

“.....Back home I was smart, you know.” It was a soft mumble, barely audible, which made Riddle angrier.

“Speak up! You're not a child, you can enunciate—”

“—I was smart, Riddle! I was really fucking smart!” A sudden bang of your fists on the table startled the other three and awoke Grim.

“W-w-wha—wha' happ—”

“I had my school paid for with academic scholarships! I was awarded on the Dean's List for being one of the best students at my old university! I bet if you came to my world, you'd have just as much trouble, maybe even more!”

You jabbed a finger at Riddle, growing louder and louder in your self-righteousness.

“You don't know about the world wars! You don't know about our ancient history and gods! You're great at alchemy, but I bet you'd be getting yelled at by my version of Crewel for not being able to recognize the periodic table! I mean, can you even understand my position? Or do you guys just like having someone to look down on to make yourselves feel better!”

At this point, your voice was echoing in the library, the steps of the librarian growing louder as he approached you.

“You know what? I don't want your help, I don't think I want to even be around you guys! Not if you're going to belittle me for being forcibly plucked from the only world I've ever known into your shitty own! Deuce, I meet me at my dorm if you get tired from being around two condescending asses!”

Before the librarian could kick you out, you'd grabbed your things and marched out, ignoring his chastising as you marched out of the building.

Riddle was, of course, incredibly red. Though, his lips were pursed in a way that made it unclear if it was from his usual rage, or from guilty embarrassment. Ace looked baffled, clicking his tongue and pouting.

“Geez, it was just a joke…you know it was, right Deuce?”

“I mean, I kinda get what they're saying…”

Few wanted to admit that they did get a bit of satisfaction in being 'smarter' than someone else, and that you were the easiest target for that. Plus, no one wanted to admit that they forgot that you came from another world. It was a reminder that you'd have to go back eventually.

Gossip from that conversation spread like wildfire among the student body. Riddle was, of course, embarrassed and giving a gentle talking to by Trey after hearing about it from Cater. Though, he wasn't nearly as gentle to Ace, who didn't have the grades to back up his talk. Deuce did his best to support you in his own way, which was mostly sharing the notes and feedback he'd gotten from Riddle, at least until you were back on speaking terms with him.

Some of the other students started approaching you after a little while. Offering you a spot in their own study group, letting you ask the 'stupid' questions without those extra snide comments, though some of them have to remind themselves to shut their mouths. It takes awhile for you to talk to Ace and Riddle again, but once you do and resume your study sessions, Riddle is softer and Ace just a bit kinder.

[luigilore]

scott street- l.m

It's been four years since you've last seen Luigi. You run into him and things have changed...

(a/n: huge thank you to this anon for changing lives with this idea! this is a part two to my fic lovefool <3 i wrote this in one sitting so... lmk if u want another happier ending lol... also ofc the title is from the phoebe bridgers song, 1.2k wc)

At first, you don't recognize him.

But it's hard not to. Luigi doesn't look that different. Older, more mature, hair a bit shorter and face a bit thinner— but he still looks like himself. He still looks like your Luigi.

You don't know what to do. It would be easiest to duck through the isles of the quaint bookstore you're in. A hole in the wall that you discovered with Luigi years ago. Strolling the streets hand and hand and wandering into different stores. You would spend hours here together, laughing at niche books you discovered together. He would always look at you with so much love that it was obvious and it almost embarrassed you, you knew he always loved when you let yourself have a break like this.

You always loved this bookstore— that’s why you’re here now; desperate for a reprieve from real life, from your sterile apartment and the infinite grind of rehearsals. 

But this is no reprieve, Luigi is in front of you, years after you broke up for the final time, since the last time you've seen him; wearing a gold wedding band and gently bouncing a baby against his chest. 

Even though you knew he was still in the city, you never expected to see Luigi again. You lived entirely different lives and that’s why it didn’t work in the first place. After months and months of letting him fuck you, hold you, even though you weren't together anymore, you knew you finally had to end whatever you had with Luigi.

It was eating away at you jeopardizing your career, hurting you. When you pushed him away for the last time, you always secretly hoped he would contact you somehow, show up at your apartment, and fight for your love and relationship like he always so fervently had. But Luigi respected your decision, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest as you tell him We have to stop.

And so he does.

And you do too. You throw yourself back into ballet entirely and Luigi becomes a distant memory, something, someone, you felt lucky to experience but you knew you never truly deserved or could preserve. 

Now, you internally debate speaking to him or pretending you didn't see him but Luigi makes the decision for you, meeting your eyes as recognition and love flashing across his face with a smile; calling your name in a way you haven't heard in years.

You're both not that much older now, not even four years had passed but it felt like an entirely different lifetime.  

“Wow, it’s great to see you,” Luigi says with a smile and you try to find the right words and can’t. "You look great," he continues as his attention is drawn away from you to his child, gurgling and making Luigi smile and shift him in his strong arms.

"Who's this?" You ask weakly and he grins proudly, "Nicholas, he’s seven months.”

The baby looks like Luigi in a very unfair way, dark eyes and tufts of hair. Actually, the entire interaction feels unfair. You feel like you've had the wind knocked out of you. You try to smile at his baby's sweet laugh and chubby arm leaving his father's chest to reach out to you.

“We’re trying to read to him early,” Luigi explains, like he has to defend why he’s here of all places. 

The offhanded mention of We, the implication of his wife, makes you swallow thickly and try to think of any excuse to get out of the conversation. It feels like every lingering doubt, every insecurity you've felt since you broke up for good, is bubbling to the surface in an overwhelming and consuming and devastating way.

"He's precious," you manage to get out, because it's true. "He looks like you," you finish, partly fishing for any small talk you can muster and also because Nicholas truly does. Luigi just smiles proudly, "Yeah, that’s what everyone says."

He asks how you’ve been and you feel embarrassed even though you can list accomplishment after accomplishment in your career. He asks about the current performance, and says he saw something about the Swan Lake show online. It makes you wonder if he ever thinks about you, if you ever randomly cross his mind. 

You say you’re okay- because that’s the truth and he smiles a bit sadly and you both stand there a bit in silence. Like there's something to say but neither of you can quite grasp. You feel like an intruder, intruding on Luigi and his baby- his family. You wonder where his wife is, who she is. 

“I’m glad you’re doing well, ___,” He says eventually. “Really.” 

“Thanks,” you say meekly and feel entirely overwhelmed.

"Don't be a stranger," he says suddenly, breaking the thick the silence that seems to inherently envelope the two of you. You just smile and nod, knowing that neither of you actually expect to stay in touch. You only say goodbye and wonder if Luigi felt similarly affected.

You can't help but turn around one last time to watch him leave. But you only catch his eye again as he turns your way too. Luigi looks a bit embarrassed, like he was caught and turns away for the final time.

-

When you get back to your dark apartment, you can't find the energy to make dinner or even start the dishwasher. You dazedly curl into yourself in bed, thinking about what could have, should have, been. You never find yourself missing what you don't have but Luigi was always able to instill in you something you'd never felt before.

Maybe it's a bit self assured to think that if you hadn't finally cut him off, you would eventually have a family. Or maybe that was never possible between the two of you.

But then you think about the way you and Luigi would so often talk about children when you were together, filling your head with thoughts of an incredibly wholesome future together and making your heart unfairly twist in excitement and want. He’d always inevitably ask you in a quieter voice if you think he’d be a good dad. And you always told him yes between sweet kisses to his jaw. 

You don't remember falling asleep and wake up to your daily 5 am alarm for rehearsal; still in your clothes from yesterday, mascara smeared underneath your eyes from silent tears. You wipe your face a bit roughly, staring at your tired, bleary eyes in the mirror and start getting ready for the day.

[yumecel]

Closer to God ❤️

yandere wriothesley / reader | 3k words

summary: the duke finds himself fascinated with you. to an almost unhealthy degree. scratch that, it is unhealthy. but in the underground world of vitamin D deficiencies, questionable mystery meats, and near-agoraphobia towards the overworld, does the “health” of one’s desires really matter so much?

character specifics: uhhh i think nothing but so heavily written from reader’s perspective that you may not feel his essence is fully Captured

reader specifics: female reader girl/she/wife terms

world specifics: i have no idea how fontaines legal system works and it will show. hinted matchmaker sigewinne but don’t hate her

tws: yandere, non con kissing, stalking

a/n: i could chew through fucking steel right now i am so full of lust and felt possessed to write something to this iconic song despite there being NO ACTUAL SMUT sorry.

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

——❤️——

You have been instructed to deliver his tea. The box feels like it’s more valuable than your entire existence, all gold-trimmed edges and swirling designs. That’s probably why it was entrusted into your hands when the usual runners are preoccupied.

Probably.

But it’s the third errand this week, and it seems so unnecessary for you personally to run it. And your sentence will be over in six weeks. And seeing the Duke now only makes your anxiety spike, lest you stumble straight into a crime you wouldn’t even know you were committing and somehow end up extending your sentence.

He’s not like that. Surely not. But you’ve been worrying.

Something in his bone-chilling gaze towards you betrays his casual demeanour. It’s the same something in the forced lingering, the excuses. The ways that he swindles you into staying in his office for an hour or two when you want to leave. Today is no different. One of the teas comes such a long way, you see, all the way from Inazuma, and you must indulge in a cup and let him know your opinion on it. Is it similar to the last one from Liyue? They have different methods of drying out the leaves. Did you drink any of it when you were in the overworld?

You always answer his questions the best you can. It’s easiest when they’re all small talk like this, and you’re not trying to play oblivious at his advances. There’s going to be a further advance soon, you can feel it.

It’s six weeks until the end of your sentence and Wriothesley’s interest in you seems foolish. With a little luck, you’ll never return to the Fortress of Meropide in your life. You did everything right, you deserve to leave, surely?

But you know that Wriothesley is no fool, and that he would not be playing these games so boldly if he was not certain to win.

——❤️——

Eleven months ago, you didn’t make much conversation with anyone in the prison. You did what you always thought you should do in a prison; kept your head down, worked hard, and didn’t associate too intimately with anyone.

Ten months ago, you had started to assume Sigewinne pitied you, or whatever the closest melusine approximation to “pity” was. Somehow designated to running errands for the infirmary, you talked to her more than any of the prisoners. Though you were grateful for her support, you kept displaying the autonomy and dignity that would let her know you were of the composition that didn’t desire company. It wouldn’t fool a melusine as observant as Sigewinne. You knew this. But you persisted, holding onto shreds of pride.

Nine months ago, Sigewinne had managed to get you to open up. You had believed at the time you were contributing to her understanding of human emotions, but now you suspect that she had motives of helping you.

“As for why I don’t really talk to anyone outside of working, well, I… I’m still processing everything. I feel like people won’t accept what I did, and get the same pushback I felt from people up there and I just… can’t relive that. People that I thought would understand didn’t, and it’s been difficult to recover trust in others.”

Sigewinne’s eyes examined you thoroughly. You maintained a perfectly still expression, under the impression that her observations of your face were for her research.

“Hmm… what if someone was guaranteed to understand you?

You took a little time to think before answering, “I think it would help. But I doubt I would personally pursue someone like that.”

“You wouldn’t?” Sigewinne queried.

“I wouldn’t. And I don’t know where I would find someone who understood.”

“Where indeed…” she whispered, more to herself than you, eyes flitting back to yours. A slight raise of the eyebrows indicated that she had come to a conclusion about something, and you weren’t sure about what. You were just happy to help, and it didn’t occur how deeply you had revealed your emotions until later.

Eight months ago, you had started running errands for Wriothesley. This followed a mixup with your records, where Sigewinne accepted blame for not filing your work hours accurately as your manager. The Duke himself had to personally review your entire record in prison to confirm that there were no inconsistencies. You were a little embarrassed by the whole thing, though Sigewinne insisted she was entirely at fault and deeply sorry. You didn’t blame her as it was an exceedingly rare mistake on her part. If anything, you were a little touched that Sigewinne cared so deeply about this. Also, the apology cake from the overworld certainly washed away any remaining feelings of irritation you held.

Eventually, you found yourself walking into the Duke’s office like Sigewinne had told you to, hands clasped in front of you. “Sigewinne sent me, Your Grace.”

“Oh, (Y/N). Thank you for coming along. I just need you to read some documents and sign them.” He said, motioning to three papers on his desk.

Hearing your name spill from his mouth so casually felt surreal. Nevertheless, you took timid steps forward and examined the documents.

“Sigewinne speaks highly of you, you know.”

Unsure how exactly to respond, you paused for a moment. “I’m glad she does, Your Grace.”

You continued examining the documents, quickly signing the first one off.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need someone trustworthy to help me hand some medical records to Sigewinne for me. Well, maybe “hand” is an understatement.”

In your peripheral vision, you catch the way he gestures towards some boxes, more than one person could reasonably move at a time.

Ink meets paper on the second document.

“Of course. I’d be more than willing to help.”

“Ah, great. Our head nurse is capable, but I’d just feel bad making her carry these on her own.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I knew you would.” The Duke says.

Silence hangs in the air. You pull the final document closer towards you to interrupt the unbearable quiet. Eventually, you make the final signature and turn around, moving towards the boxes.

The files look rather haphazardly thrown in, papers sticking out from their respective folders. That’s when the Duke approaches from behind, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. Not expecting the touch, you jump slightly, and then pretend to act like it never happened. He felt it though. He couldn’t have not felt it.

“Also, maybe you could do me another favour and help me sort these before we give them back to her?”

There is nothing else to do other than nod and say, “Of course, Your Grace.”

Eight months ago you learned that the Duke is exceptionally chatty around you. Eight months ago, your work became more divided between his office and Sigewinne’s infirmary.

Seven months ago, you had first divulged information about your crime to the Duke.

“What are you in for?” is a common enough question in the Fortress of Meropide. His Grace has never asked you it, and he wouldn’t need to either. And yet, his speech is peppered with implications about your crime that you can either refute or accept. You had dodged every hidden question artfully, and he would be very blatant about acknowledging this, saying you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to. Comforted by this, you had started trusting him.

Seven months ago, you had started trusting Wriothesley, and that had been a mistake.

Of course he already knew your crime. How could he not? A murder in self defence is quite a notable trial in the overworld regardless, and nothing in the underworld slips past Wriothesley.

You may have been a free woman if it was simpler. If the man in that alleyway had been less beloved by his community, if you had not ran away from the crime in fear, if you submitted evidence at the time, if being dragged back to Fontaine was never part of the ordeal. If it hadn’t divided the people around you over whether you should’ve really did it.

If they just understood.

You accepted the sentence nonetheless. Evading the court is a crime in itself, and in that respect you could be considered a prolific criminal.

Sat in his office, you had retold the tale.

Wriothesley understood.

——❤️——

Six months ago, you had entertained the thought of Wriothesley as a fling.

Your heart wanted emotional connection, your brain knew it would be unreasonable to pursue a long term relationship. And your pussy really just liked the idea of him pinning you down and fucking you like an animal.

Some of his little gestures towards you supported this notion. A hand on the small of your back, maybe going a little low, the warmth of his presence behind you. The leering that’d stop when you picked your head up, but you still caught in reflections and out of the corner of your eye. The occasional innuendos. Wriothesley is fairly down-to-earth all the time, but with you, some more primal desires seep through.

But sometimes, it was different. The way he’d sweep hair away from your face. The possessiveness around you when other prisoners- now seemingly assuming you were a member of staff rather than an actual prisoner- talked to you. Always played off as professionalism. And the endless desire to know exactly what you were up to, inside and out.

Noting this, you were a little less reciprocative of his hints, afraid of feelings being hurt. He seemed to accept it. You were friends now. You knew about his crimes, which he had confided to you in private. He knew everything there was to know about yours. You would come to chat over tea. You continued working with Sigewinne, but saw her less. Wriothesley dominated most of your waking moments.

But the possessiveness didn’t stop, and the curiosity was starting to become intrusive.

——❤️——

Four months ago, you had learned that Wriothesley personally went through all of your mail.

All mail of yours was immediately forwarded to his office, where it would be opened and sent back to the mailroom. You had only found this out when you wandered into the mailroom and inquired about the mail, expecting a monthly letter from your family that was a little late.

“Oh, I take it she’s one of your patients? All of that mail gets forwarded to the Duke first. Guess there was a contraband incident or something. Anyway, don’t have it.”

It was information the attendant would have never divulged to you if he realised who you were. You blended in so well as a member of staff that people had started to see you as a nursing attendant before anything else. The clothes you now wore that treaded the line between prisoner and staff member were another layer of this disguise, courtesy of Wriothesley. Now, it was working against him.

Despite how perturbed you were, you managed a, “Oh, thank you for telling me.”, and immediately darted towards Wriothesley’s office, knocking with a shaking hand before you heard him telling you to come in.

“How nice it is to see you on your day off. Take it you missed me?” He said, closing his book and getting up to get another cup. It’s like a routine to him, and one he’s very comfortable doing.

“Well, I do have a reason to be here.”

“Cold. Well, let me pour you a cup, and you can tell me all about it. It’s Chenyu adeptea today.”

After getting seated and engaging in a few pleasantries with him, you pose your question, about if what you heard in the mailroom was really true.

He doesn’t deny it.

With a piercing gaze that doesn’t deviate from yours, he says, “Hm. I didn’t want to worry you at the time, but dangerous contraband came through in a parcel addressed to you a couple months back, and I’ve been going through it ever since.”

A reasonable explanation, you suppose. But why keep it from you this long? Surely he must understand this is a betrayal of your trust?

You remain quiet, still trying to process everything.

“My apologies if your feelings are hurt, but I acted in your best interests. I promise that.”

Your fingers glide along the edge of the teacup. “That’s alright. I shouldn’t have doubted your reasoning.”

You finish the cup of tea over lighter conversation, until just before leaving, you pose one last question.

“Ah, uh, you don’t go through my outgoing mail too, right?”

Wriothesley chuckles dryly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no reason to do that, is there?”

You’ve known him too long, been confined in his presence with nothing else to do but observe. His perceptiveness is second to none, but you’ve trained yourself. Dodging the question is suspicious. As you close the door to his office, there is no doubt in your mind that he reads every letter you send.

It didn’t surprise you that the mail attendant you first spoke to seemed to no longer work in the mailroom when you next approached it.

——❤️——

It was difficult to remain amicable after that, but you tried your best. Treading a thin line between not upsetting him (not that he’d ever show it) and not allowing him to encroach further on your personal life, you may as well have been walking on the edge of a knife.

The advances started again. He’s more demanding of your time. Sigewinne simply lets you off work to do whatever he demands. She seems to believe there’s something amusing in all of this, and you don’t dare confide in her about your discomfort around the Duke. You don’t think she’d be playing on your side.

Two months ago, he started getting far too touchy. He wants to be next to you, he finds any excuse to put a hand on you, rub your back, your shoulder, the top of your hand- all gestures of comfort that come across more like domination and marking territory. You don’t feel like you can tell him to stop. He has too much power, and you don’t wish to interfere with it. The reality of who he is seems more imposing than ever, and you steel yourself, trying to remain as professional and inoffensive as possible.

The clock ticks down. Less and less days to the end of your sentence.

——❤️——

Two weeks now remain of your time in the Fortress of Meropide.

“I think you might owe me something for that.” Wriothesley says.

You stare down at the cards scattered across the table, remnants of a finished game that Wriothesley had won. He looks slightly smug about it. It’s only been a few rounds, too. He’s often happy to play many more.

“Like what?”

“Something I’ve always wanted.”

You look up at him, seeing his hand beckon you closer. You get up slowly, carefully stepping around the table. He pats the sofa beside him and the world around you starts to feel dreamlike as you sit down.

His hand touches just under your chin, thumb stroking your jaw, before reaching up steadily to your lips. You know what comes next, and shut your eyes as his lips eventually meet yours. Obediently, you kiss back until he pulls away. When your eyes meet, you immediately look down, observing how his hand was now on your thigh, touching lightly.

You gasp as he squeezes, feeling his gaze remain on you. “I… I’m not sure if we should be doing this. I’m l-leaving soon, and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.”

“Leaving to where?”

Your blood runs a little cold then, but you steady yourself. “The overworld.”

“You don’t have to.”

Making an earnest attempt to get him to sympathise with you, to understand like he always has, you place your own hand on top of his. “I think I do. I’ve served my sentence with the intention of getting out of this place. I need to go back up. Reintegrate before I forget how.”

Wriothesley doesn’t understand.

When you look up, he’s now looking right through you, into space, into nothingness. “I guess you’re not going to make this easy.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You say, roughly swallowing. Against your will, you do understand. You always do.

“We’re made for each other. Circumstance is a powerful thing, (Y/N). If it wasn’t for circumstance, you wouldn’t be in jail. You wouldn’t be like me. I wouldn’t be here either. Two people, who can perfectly understand each other, in the same place. But I suppose you don’t think that’s something worth pursuing?”

“I can’t be here forever.” You reply definitively.

“Don’t exaggerate things, now. I do go up to Fontaine every now and then, you know.”

“You know what I mean.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“I guess I can have your sentence extended. I didn’t want to play that card, but…”

“I- I’ll report you to any authority that will listen!” You exclaim, retracting away from him in horror.

“And it’ll be your word against mine. Wonder how that would work out.” He states, as if he was simply pondering the results of the card game.

Tears have started falling from your eyes. A wave of nausea rolls over your entire body as a thumb gently swipes over your cheeks. You’re utterly stunned and lost for words, slowly collapsing into yourself. Wriothesley takes the opportunity to inch closer and wrap his arms around you, letting you freely sob into his shoulder. There is nothing else to do. His arms are like a prison, and his hot breath is tickling against your ear.

“You’ll understand in time. For now, let’s calm down and maybe we can start preparing for your permanent residence, huh?”

As another sob emerges, his hand rubs your back with overwhelming tenderness.

[hazbinwhoree]

May I request a scenario where Adam and reader are in a marriage and domestic life, like how he is with reader being pregnant, gave birth, and what he is like as a parent?

Is the request OK? This the first time I make a request so please correct me if I made a mistake here.

Domestic Life

A/N: It was easiest to do this in headcanon format.

Adam is far from the perfect husband

But he’s trying, he really is

He has a breeding kink, so it’s not long into your marriage before you got pregnant

When you tell him, he thinks you’re joking

“HAH! Good one, babe.”

You literally have to convince him

Once he believes you, he’s incredibly nervous

Yeah he had a breeding kink but he never really planned on kids

Eventually he comes around

Is actually really doting during your pregnancy

The way he looks at it, you’re sacrificing your body for nine months to bring his spawn into the world so of course he was going to dote on you

You’re incredibly nervous about your due date, knowing child birth was the worst pain a woman could naturally experience, but Adam didn’t really understand your fear

“Think of it like you’re taking a shit but it’s from your vagina.”

Thanks Adam, very helpful

Always comes up behind you later in the pregnancy and locks his hands under your stomach, lifting slightly, taking the weight off your back

The first time he did it you teared up in relief

Adam made a point to do it a lot more after that

When it comes time to deliver the baby, Adam is shocked at the process

There’s so much blood and screaming and Adam is almost one of those dads who pass out

Feels like a dick for not taking your fear seriously

Holds your hand the whole time and stays up near your head

He gets sick if he looks at what’s going on between your legs

Tries to be comforting and encouraging but he’s so bad at it

Eventually shuts up and just lets you squeeze the life out of his hand

He brushed your hair back and off of your sweaty forehead with his free hand

There are complications with your delivery, you lost a lot of blood

You start losing color and becoming sluggish and Adam yells at the doctors

They try to escort him out but he straight up refuses

Adam is terrified not only of losing you, but of being a single parent

He knew without you he would fuck your child up

Luckily for everyone, you pulled through

Adam is more concerned about you than he is his child

Doesn’t leave your side even to cut the umbilical cord

Leaves that to the doctors

But once you’re lucid again you’re asking about your baby and Adam doesn’t have any answers because he was too concerned with you

He doesn’t even know the gender

The doctors bring you your baby and when Adam sees him, your son, in your arms, he falls in love with him too

That doesn’t help the looming thought that he’d be a terrible father though

As soon as he finds out it’s a son, he wants to name him Adam

You allow it

Adam wants to be an active father, he does, but he really is bad at it

If you want him to take any night shifts, you have to wake him up because the baby’s crying won’t

He makes pervy comments when you breastfeed

“Me next?”

Adam is very happy and proud that he has a son

You catch him baby talking sometimes but he’ll always deny it

He doesn’t have too much trouble bonding with your son

He learns to love him as much as he loves you

Almost cries at your son’s first steps

Also denies this

Your son’s first word is “fuck”

You really try to get Adam to clean up his language after that but Adam thinks it’s hilarious

Your baby’s second word is “bitch”

He may not be the best father but he is a loving one

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

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

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@loxbbg

@its-emma-asinme

@zagreusdaughter

@animealways

@dead-sane-stuff

@avitute

@khaleesihavilliard

@d3m0n8ch1ld

@almostjollypizza

@anniebannanie0315

@tracysnook

@edlothia-baby

@noom147

@justanotherravenclaw

@gamocity

@eposadomd

@defiantbalde12

@lilyalone

@sillypastasludeland

@cassini-aming-the-stars

@pietrosbae

@bring-it-on-home-johnb

@romanoffmaximoff0096

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[inmyheaddd]

meet me in the afterglow - averyjameson

a/n: this may be my fav averyjameson fic i’ve written 😕 wc: 1.7k warnings: swearing, our fav parents fighting 💔, angst but v fluffy ending i promise!! masterlist

avery sat in her room alone, reading a book to keep herself busy, but she wasn’t actually taking in a single word. 

she usually enjoyed the coldness of her room, but now it was just a bleak reminder that the one person who always radiated warmth and sent jolts through her with his touch wasn’t there with her.

and the worst part, was that it was her fault.

“what do you want me to do, heiress? act like i have it all figured out?” jameson’s voice grew louder, “well i don’t, i can’t just—”

“—just what?” she shot back, “jameson, i never asked you to act or pretend. i don’t need perfect, i don’t even want it. i need real.” her volume began to match his, even though she hated fighting with all her being. 

the moments from last night played on repeat in her mind like a broken record player she couldn’t stop. she chewed on her bottom lip, and before she knew it, her eyes began to sting. 

she wondered what jameson was doing now —drinking? driving at speeds far too high? blacked out? with his brothers? feeling nothing? feeling everything? whatever, she didn’t care. she didn’t care. 

“i need you to stop acting like nothing matters every time things get hard!”

“oh, so staying silent how you do is any better? fuck, avery, i hate to break it to you, but this is the “real” me. as real as it fucking gets.” he said through a force chuckle, letting go of the nickname and using her name instead. “if thats too much for you, or— or, or not enough for you, maybe you should just walk away.“ 

without realizing, another tear fell onto the page on her book, and it was like the boiling point for her. 

slamming the book shut and chucking it across her room, her hands came to cover her face as she sobbed, and she brought her knees up to her chest. 

she was muffling her sobs like she’d gotten so used to doing when she was growing up, so no one would hear her, but there was no one there to hear her now anyway. 

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair frustratedly as avery blinked back angry tears. “jameson, don’t even say that to me.” her voice quivered, but she wouldn’t let a tear drop. “don’t you dare look for the easy way out. you’re a hawthorne, aren’t you? the easiest answer is never the right one — you’re the one that told me that.” 

she trudged her way out of her room to the kitchen, after angrily wiping at her tears and staring at her reflection for far too long. 

she revised over all the things she would say to jameson when she saw him again, how sorry she was, how she never meant any of it, how she was so out of her mind.

jameson laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “avery, none of this is easy." his eyes met hers, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it. “you want someone i can’t be. you want a version of me that doesn’t exist. i can’t change myself no matter how hard i try, and believe me — i have.”

her throat began to tighten as she struggled to keep her composure. “jameson, no. i want you—whatever flaws you think you have and all.” she exclaimed, the next part coming out much quieter than she intended. “but you…” she trailed off, “you don’t even trust me with all of that. why can’t you understand that i love you for who you are? i want to work for us. i know we aren’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t something worth trying for.” 

“heiress,” he paused, “trying isn’t working anymore. down the line we’ll both be miserable and you’ll say nothing until we have one of these bursting screaming matches like this again. you don’t deserve it. it’s not worth it.”

it’s not worth it. they weren’t worth it. she wasn’t worth it.

avery swirled the glass of water she filled up as she leaned against the counter, dim low lighting filling the empty kitchen. the freezing water made her feel as cold on the inside as she was outside. 

she finished her glass and made her way out of the kitchen, making a turn to get to the stairs, only to stop in her tracks and stagger back. 

her eyes met familiar green ones with slight bags under them, and an unruly bed of hair that usually looked a little tidier. 

avery was at a loss for words, jameson hawthorne, standing infront of her, giving up because things got too hard?

she scoffed, but she sounded more dejected than she did angry. “fine then. don’t try anymore.” she swallowed, taking in the way jameson’s brows softened and a flash of something passed through his eyes, though she couldn’t quite place it. regret? anger? satisfaction? 

she let her eyes do the talking for a moment before speaking. “you are the most selfish person i’ve ever met.” she added with purpose, every word like a dagger to him. she didn’t wait for anything he had to say, turning on her heels with one last look and walking out of the room. 

jameson called out for her, but she kept walking. her heart beat faster than it ever had before and it was like every inch of her body wanted to turn around and collapse in his arms. 

—to apologize for everything she did and didn’t do, to look into his eyes and see that glitter of love in them, for him to kiss the tears off of her and simply be there.

unfortunately for avery kylie grambs, she didn’t always get what she wanted, and she kept walking forwards. 

avery felt like she had the wind knocked out of her as jameson stood infront of her, breathing heavily as he looked equally as surprised to have found her.

every rehearsed line and practiced speech she had left her mind in that moment. the only thing that rang through it was his name. “jameson,” she said, almost whispering. 

“heiress, wait.” he said, reaching an arm out to stop her leaving— he couldn’t let her go. she wasn’t going to anyway, she felt frozen in place. she also didn’t want to leave.

“i, i don’t know what to say, jameson, i’m so sorry.” she said with a light shake of her head, “i was so out of line last night, and i shouldn’t have—“

he cut her off, “no, avery, let me just say this, please.” he said with pleading eyes. “i think i should be institutionalized with the way i felt like i’ve lost my mind without you. i know i lost my mind last night, that’s for sure.” 

he chuckled nervously, and avery knew jameson hawthorne never got nervous. “avery, you are worth every single thing on this goddamn planet— in the whole universe. i don’t think i could begin to conceptualize a life without you in it. what i said last night? i lied.“ 

he took a deep, shuddering breath in. “i said i couldn’t change for you, but i know that’s not true, because i have— before my own eyes. every waking day i spend with you makes me want to become better, for you, heiress.” 

avery felt her eyes begin to prick with tears once again, but she didn’t feel a single drop of hurt in her body now. “i’ve never felt so deeply devoted and in love with anything in my life before, and that scares me. it scares me in a way nothing has before because i know it’s so real. but im not letting my fears get in the way, not anymore.” 

jameson’s chest heaved as he looked down at avery, “heiress. you don’t have to say anything.” he said upon seeing her glossy eyes.

there was nothing she could say anyway to express the complete enamored feeling she felt when she looked at him, to express how much she loved him. 

she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, as his arms wrapped around her middle like if he held any looser she would disappear, his head dropping down to her neck.

“i’m so sorry,” avery sobbed into his shoulder, “i love you so much. i’m so in love with you. i couldn’t ever imagine losing what we have.” 

“you won’t ever have to, heiress. i’m staying forever.” he mumbled, as one of his hands came to run through her hair. when she didn’t respond, and he heard her muffled hiccups, he spoke once again. “heiress,” he he lifted his head, his voice low and almost musical. “don’t get all sappy on me now, i much prefer that smile of yours.” 

she sniffled as she let out a little laugh, pulling back from the hug and wiping away at her tears. “shut up.” 

jameson’s smile only grew at the sound of her laugh, and her now slightly red eyes met his. her smile faded for a second before she spoke again, remembering the events that had just happened the day before. 

“jameson, i— you have no idea how sorry i am.” her brows slightly furrowed as she shook her head, echoing her words for earlier.  

he chuckled, reaching his hands out to grab hers, “yeah? i think if you repeat it one more time, i’ll have a pretty good idea.” 

“stop it,” she laughed, “im being serious.” 

“so am i. you don’t have to apologize.” 

“i do, though. and i’m sorry,” 

“if you say you’re sorry once more, i may have to consider bringing you to rehab for people pleasers.” 

“jameson,” avery breathed out through a chuckle, “i just wanted you to know.”

“heiress, i know.” he nodded with a small grin as he brought her closer, and she let go of his hands and brought them to his chest. 

his eyes flickered over her whole face, frequenting back to her lips and eyes, and there was that glitter of love in his that she loved so much.  

“can i kiss you now?” he mumbled.

“you don’t even have to ask.” her voice was barely audible in the small space between them.

he hummed in disagreement as he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers. the mere act made avery feel like she was buzzing alive as her breath caught in her throat. it would never get old.

“i like hearing you want me, like how i want you.” he whispered against her lips, before finally pressing a kiss to them, and they quickly found their rhythm against eachother. 

his hands moved to cradle her face, like he needed her as close to him as humanly possible, his brows knotting deeply as he kissed her.

jameson pulled back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. 

his thumb brushed gently across her cheek as he looked at her, his heart leaping at the sight of the her smile.

"see," he murmured, his voice soft, "much better than the sappy stuff."

avery let out a small laugh, feeling light on her toes. she looked into his eyes, feeling the love pouring out of them. “everything is better with you.”  

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @sweetlikeanangel

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee — if you’d like to be added or removed lmk!

[artstennisracket]

Jealous/Possessive Patrick, Art tells him he slept with a guy, even though Patrick and Art aren’t dating. So Patrick fucks him saying things like “Was he better than me?”

i feel like this is something that would most definitely happen. considering Patrick’s ego. I always go for stanford era when idk what era to write in since it’s the easiest to write fics in (in my opinion). it did get really dirty really fast so lmk if the tone change is too drastic. (my mind really ran away from me LMAO)

cw: nsfw(18+), dom/sum undertones, dirty talk

They had just gotten back from the dining hall. The three of them, Patrick, Art, and Tashi, got lunch together using Art’s meal credits but Tashi had practice afterwards. So Art and Patrick headed back to Art’s dorm.

Once they’re settled in sitting next to each other on Art’s bed, Patrick turns the TV on to America’s Next Top Model.

“you actually watch this show? that’s so gay.” Art chuckles.

Patrick scoffs, “it’s 2009 babe, gay is not an insult anymore.”

“i know it’s just funny that you watch this show” Art shrugs.

“and you’re also not exactly the straightest guy I know.” Patrick smirks.

Art’s face turned beet red and he looks scared almost, “who told you?! tashi? it had to be tashi.”

Patrick scrunches his eyebrows together, very confused, “what did you finally come out of the closet? and you didn’t tell me?”

Art shakes his head no, he pulls the collar of his shirt up to cover his face. He answers Patrick, mumbling, “…i slept with a guy.”

Patrick is stunned. Somehow that revelation is so much worse. The thought of Art sleeping with a girl? Hot. The thought of Art sleeping a guy? That wasn’t him? Okay still hot but he wanted to be the one doing it. Scratch that, not hot. He’s the only guy that should be able to fuck Art. “you slept with a guy. you told my girlfriend. and didn’t tell me?”

“i mean i wanted to, but i was just kind of just, really embarrassed.” Art says letting his shirt fall back into place.

“why were you embarrassed?”

“because i was really drunk, like wasted. And i was at a party and we kissed. then one thing led to another and we were in his room and he fucked me.” Art says but Patrick can tell that Art’s hiding something else.

“and what else happened?” He asks.

Art responds, “no that was it.”

Patrick studied Art’s face and body language before he makes his move. He moves quickly, pinning Art to the bed, holding his hands above his head. Now in this position, Patrick is straddling Art. “tell me the truth.” Patrick whispers, leaving forward so their faces are almost touching.

Art starts to break a sweat, blush reappearing on his cheeks, “that’s it i swear.”

Patrick isn’t satisfied with that answer. “you can either tell me or i can tickle the answer out of you. your choice.”

“okay fine imoanedyournamebyaccidentmultipletimesthatnight” Art rushes out.

Patrick barely got any of that but he got the most important parts of “moan” and “your name”. He put two and two together, smirk reappearing on his face. “awe you moaned my name? That’s so cute, you really did miss me.” Patrick pauses before speaking up again, “you know, if you wanted me to fuck you all you have to do is ask.”

Art squirms under Patrick’s grasp. “that’s— that’s not-”

Patrick can feel Art start to grow hard under him so he cuts him off, “that’s not what? you don’t think i can do better than him?”

“i never said— but tashi-”

And what Patrick didn’t hear was a No, so he starts kissing down Art’s neck, still keeping his grip on Art’s wrist. Art lets his head fall back against his mattress. Patrick whispers right into Art’s ear, “i’ll show you better.”

Patrick wants to take his time taking Art apart because he is so going to enjoy this. He starts by moving down Art’s body and unzipping his shorts. He palms Art’s semi hardness, looking up to see the reaction on Art’s face. Art’s already squirming and Patrick’s barely begun. He pulls down Art’s briefs, wrapping his lips around Art’s tip. He hears a loud gasp from Art and continues. He’s swallowing down Art’s cock, letting it hit the back of his throat. Art is starting to moan like crazy, hands gripping the sheets below him.

Patrick pulls off Art’s cock and goes to pull off both Art’s shorts and briefs. He looks up at Art, “do you have any lube?”

Art nods sitting up on his elbows, grabbing some from his nightstand and passing it to Patrick. Patrick takes the lube applying it to his fingers as well as Art’s hole. Art gasps during the application from how cold it it. “relax babe, i’ll take care of you.”

Patrick slowly pushes his first finger in. It takes a minute for Art to adjust, but in no time he’s begging for a second. Patrick goes to add another finger but before he pushes in he asks, “did he have you begging like this too huh? like the desperate slut you are?”

Art could feel himself getting harder which he didn’t even know was possible. Art blinks a few times trying to regain his train of thought and remember but he honestly can’t, “n-no i don’t think so.”

“seeing how desperate you already are with one finger, i’m sure you did.” Patrick responds before he adds another finger in pumping his fingers in and out of Art’s hole. It’s not long before Patrick deems that Art is ready. He flips Art over so he is face down, ass up. He lines himself with Art’s entrance before he pushes in all at once.

“fuck” Art exclaims. He feels so full, Patrick is genuinely stretching him out right now.

“there you go baby, how’s that? does it feel good?” Patrick asks slowly going in and out. Art is still a bit tight around him.

“really really, good patrick fuck.” Art moans.

Patrick pulls all the way out and says “you’re still a little tight so you’re gonna have to hold yourself open for me okay?”

Art nods, moving his hands back towards his ass. He uses his hands to spread his cheeks, holding himself open for Patrick. Patrick almost finishes at that sight alone. He takes a mental picture before sliding back into Art. “holy fuck you’re still so tight.”

“your so fucking big patrick, fuck.”

“was his dick bigger than mine huh?” Patrick asks. He grips Art’s hips and starts drilling into him.

“ah, ah, oh- fuck, jesus fuck, no it wasn’t i swear.”

“does he fuck better than me? does he stretch out your fucking hole like I do?”

Art shakes his head no as best he could. He could start to feel his eyes watering up from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was feeling as Patrick slammed into his prostate.

Patrick grabs Art’s hair, pulling his head up so Patrick could whisper in his ear. “i asked you a fucking question, use your words you dumb slut.”

Art is trying to remember how to formulate a sentence, he can’t even think straight while Patrick is still drilling into him. Art tries to shake his head no again, “…ah- n-no.”

“no what?”

“n-no he doesn’t fuck me better than you do.” Art responds as tears start to roll down his cheeks. Patrick lets go of Art’s hair causing him to fall back onto the bed. He pulls out for a second making Art whine at the loss. He turns Art to lay down on his back before pushing back inside of him.

“did he fuck you raw like this?” Patrick asks, he moves his hand so he can jerk Art off at the same time.

Art shakes his head before he remembers to verbalize his answer, “no he didn’t, wore a condom.” Art’s pupils are so blown out right now and he definitely looks a little spacey.

“maybe your not such a dumb cockslut after all.” Patrick smirks before he quickens his thrusts again.

“ah fuck, only for you.” Art moans. He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying at this point.

“that’s right baby, your mine. you’re my personal little fucktoy so you better not let anyone else fuck you like this ever again.”

Art doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much but he’s finishing all over Patrick’s fist before he knows it.

Patrick isn’t too far behind, finishing deep inside Art. He pulls out slowly, watching as it leaks right out of Art’s hole.

Maybe Patrick was being a little possessive but he didnt lie about anything he said. Art really does and will always belong to him, the same way that he will always belong to Art.