#hope my passion will beat my anxiety

[lavendel081]

Me and who

[decayed-cartilage]

do you currently take requests? i absolutely ADORE the way you write hannibal and may be a little (aka very) obsessed with the current intern series.. if you do requests could i request dark/yandere hannibal general headcanons :33 could be nsfw or sfw im fine with literally anything you write 🥲

A/n: thank you for suggesting 😊 I really hope I do this justice... Ive never like done this format and I think I wrote a lil too much 😮‍💨 but please let me know how you feel!! 💕 Big kisses

WARNINGS: stalking! Smut! Fingering! Taking advantage! Mentions of death! Allusion to cannibalism!

Yandere! Hannibal headcannons + mini fic(s)

Masterlist

Yandere! Hannibal who deliberately took up new hobbies—ones he knew you loved—just to have an excuse to spend more time with you.

Y/N lit up the moment she stepped into the studio, her eyes wide with happiness. It was an expression I had come to enjoy—genuine, seeing me among the rest of the potters.

"Doctor Lecter! I had no idea you enjoyed pottery as well!" she said, her voice warm, even a giggle slipping out.

I smiled, hands still dusted with clay. It was true that I had no particular passion for pottery, but I had learned. For her. And now, standing before me, she believed this was a passion of mine.

"Of course, Miss L/n," I replied easily, meeting her gaze. "I'm sure we've spoken of it before."

She hesitated, just for a second. Had we? The question flickered behind her eyes, but she dismissed it just as quickly. If I said it was so, then surely it must be.

She launched into conversation without another thought, her words flowing freely—soft, lively, unguarded. I nodded at all the right moments, smiling when she laughed, watching the way her enthusiasm bubbled over. It was an effortless thing, listening to her.

But my attention wasn’t truly on her.

It was on him.

Her boyfriend stood just behind her, arms crossed, gaze flicking disinterestedly over the room. He had no appreciation for the art, not even for the things that brought her joy. He was here out of obligation, not care. And yet, he stood at her side, playing the role he assumed was expected of him.

I watched him, my gaze steady. Unwavering. Not a glare, not an obvious threat—but something quieter. A measured, deliberate look that spoke more than words ever could.

He felt it. I could see it in the way his posture tightened, in the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes for long.

Good.

She didn’t notice. She was still talking, still laughing, blissfully unaware of the moment unfolding between us. But I held my gaze a beat longer, just to be sure the message was understood.

Just to be sure he knew he didn’t belong.

Yandere! Hannibal, who carefully manipulated doubt into your mind, never overtly suggesting you leave your boyfriend—but making you see the cracks you’d once ignored.

Hannibal watched you unravel in real-time, your delicate fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your sleeve, your voice quiet, hesitant. You were always hesitant when it came to him. That fool. That boy who didn’t understand what he had—what he was so carelessly throwing away.

"He left me in the middle of the store… and I was so scared," you murmured, like you were embarrassed by the admission, like it wasn’t something that should infuriate you.

But you weren’t angry. No, you were simply hurt. Still trying to justify his actions, trying to shrink your feelings into something more tolerable, something that wouldn’t make you seem like a burden.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, though the tension coiled within him like a serpent.

"He knows about your anxiety, doesn’t he?"

The way your breath hitched—so subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching for it—told him the answer before you even nodded.

Of course he knew. And yet he still did it.

How reckless. How unworthy.

Hannibal’s fingers curled slightly against the arm of his chair as he studied you, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you question it, just long enough for the thought to begin forming in your own mind before he spoke again.

"Then he knew what he was doing."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. One that you needed to hear. One that you needed to accept.

You frowned slightly, your gaze lowering as if you were trying to find some hidden excuse for him among the lines in your palm.

Hannibal leaned forward just slightly, lowering his voice, making it intimate. “And when you found him… what did he say?”

You swallowed. That small, nervous movement of your throat. He wanted to reach out, to smooth his thumb over the tension there. Instead, he waited.

"He just laughed. Said I was overreacting."

Overreacting.

Hannibal nearly smiled. Not out of amusement, but out of sheer disbelief at the audacity of such a dismissive remark.

“I see,” he murmured, but there was nothing soft about it. “Tell me… if it were the other way around, if you had left him there, knowing his fears, knowing how much distress it would cause him, would you have simply laughed?”

Your reaction was immediate—head shaking, eyes widening, an instinctual no.

Of course not. Because you were kind. You were thoughtful. You cared too much, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

He tilted his head, studying you, letting you sit with the realization. “Then why does he deserve that kind of grace?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nothing to say. No excuse to offer.

Good.

Hannibal relaxed back into his chair, watching you intently, watching the weight of his words settle into you. He didn’t need to say anything else. The idea was already there, curling around your thoughts, winding itself into your heart.

All he had to do now was wait.

Yandere! Hannibal, who held you as you cried over your breakup, but secretly was getting off on it.

She collapsed into me the moment she stepped inside, her fragile frame trembling as if the weight of her sorrow had finally become too much to bear. I caught her effortlessly, as if I had always been meant to, my arms wrapping around her without hesitation. She was so small like this, so breakable, and yet, she clung to me as though I were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.

I settled her in my lap, letting her bury her face against my chest, her quiet sobs muffled against my suit. My fingers threaded through her hair, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she melted into my touch. She fit so perfectly here, as though she had always belonged in my arms.

"There, there," I murmured, my voice a soft lull, soothing, patient. "You’re safe now."

She shuddered at the word, pressing closer, gripping my jacket like a lifeline. Such a delicate thing, so desperate for comfort, for security. And she had come to me for it. Just as I knew she would.

I had warned her. Had spent countless hours listening to her, guiding her, gently nudging her toward the truth. That man had never deserved her. He had only ever caused her pain. And now, here she was, weeping in my arms, proving me right.

I tightened my hold on her, tilting my head down so my lips were close to her ear. "I told you, my dear," I whispered, my voice a quiet promise, a claim. "I would never abandon you like he did."

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t question it. She simply let herself sink deeper into me, into my warmth, into everything I had been so patiently offering her.

And God, if that wasn’t the most intoxicating thing of all. The way she nestled into me, completely unaware, her soft, warm body pressing so perfectly against mine. Every shudder, every shift, only made me grow harder—her delicate frame settling right over my bulge. She didn’t notice, too lost in her grief, too trusting, too utterly mine.

Yandere! Hannibal, who killed your ex and invited you into his home as if he did nothing.

She arrived at my door without memory of the decision to come, her body guiding her on instinct. I saw it in the way her frame sagged, the way her breath hitched unevenly, her red-rimmed eyes barely able to lift to meet mine. The moment I opened the door, her lips parted, voice ruined.

“Hannibal.”

The sight of her in distress, so utterly lost, sent a quiet thrill through me. But I said nothing at first. I merely stepped aside, allowing her entrance. She obeyed, stepping into the warmth of my home, though she looked as if she hardly felt it.

Her arms wrapped around herself as she stood just past the doorway, fragile, crumbling. "He's dead," she whispered. "They found him—my boyfriend. His head was on a fence. Just… stuck there. In the middle of nowhere."

I shut the door with a soft click, carefully hiding the satisfaction that curled in my chest.

"That's terrible," I said, smoothing my voice into something gentle, something she needed.

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Terrible." Her fingers brushed at her swollen eyes, sniffling. "I just… I don’t get it. Who does that?"

I took a slow step closer, allowing my presence to steady her. “Cruelty is often senseless,” I murmured. “But you shouldn’t let this consume you.”

She shook her head, lips pressing together, fighting another wave of emotion. "How am I supposed to just… move on from this?"

"You don't have to figure that out tonight." I reached for her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, watching as she exhaled, accepting the comfort, needing it. "You need to eat. Come, sit with me for dinner."

She hesitated. Her stomach twisted—grief stealing her appetite, no doubt. But she was exhausted, vulnerable. She needed something to ground her, and so she followed.

The meal I had prepared sat warm and inviting before us, though she barely touched it. Her fork scraped against the plate, each bite an effort. Her body was weary, her hands shaking as she set the utensil down. Her lip trembled as she pressed her fingers into her lap, trying to control her breathing, trying not to break.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I—I can't stop crying. I feel so stupid. I don’t even know why I came here." A weak, bitter laugh left her. "I just… I didn't know where else to go."

How beautifully tragic. How utterly mine.

I took my time, dabbing at the corner of my mouth before setting my napkin aside. "There is no need to apologize," I said, calm, unwavering. "Grief isn't something to push down. You are allowed to feel this, especially here. You are safe with me."

Her pretty lips trembled further, her lashes wet with fresh tears. They spilled over before she could stop them, a choked laugh escaping her as she shook her head.

“God,” she sniffled, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her face. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

I tilted my head, gaze steady. “Not at all,” I murmured.

A fragile smile attempted to grace her lips, though it barely held. She played with the fabric of her sleeve, her fingers delicate, uncertain. Slowly, she picked up her fork again, forcing herself to eat. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned forward slightly, watching her closely.

“You don’t have to find out.”

The words wove themselves into the air between us, binding her tighter to me. If she weren’t so drained, so consumed by grief, perhaps she would have questioned them. Perhaps she would have felt the weight of my claim.

But instead, she only nodded, clinging to me as her anchor, unaware that I had already secured her in place.

Yandere! Hannibal who fucked any thought you had of your ex out of your head.

Her sobs were beautiful. Each one made her smaller in my arms, pressing closer, seeking comfort, seeking me. I held her as if she were fragile, my touch gentle, patient—calculated. She was unraveling, and I had known she would.

I had known she would come to me.

And now, here she was, breaking apart, utterly lost. My sweet girl. My perfect little dove. She lifted her head, glassy, swollen eyes searching for something, anything, that might make the pain lessen. I could see the moment it happened—the way her gaze faltered on my lips, how the realization hit her.

Yes, my dear. That’s it.

I had been guiding her to this, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her dependencies. Him—that waste of a man—was gone, and she was here, right where she belonged.

When she leaned in, uncertain but desperate, I met her halfway. My lips captured hers, firm and knowing, a promise sealed in the heat between us. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound greedily, my fingers threading through her hair to keep her there.

She thought this was a mistake. A reckless, grief-fueled lapse in judgment.

She was wrong.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as she rocked against me. A soft whimper escaped her lips, swallowed by our kiss. I could feel her trembling, begging for me.

Breaking away, I trailed heated kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her pulse beating wildly beneath my lips. I nipped at the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from her.

"Please," her voice barely above a whisper as Her nails scraped lightly down my back,

I growled low in my throat, my control slipping, Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire as she gazed up at me.

"Tell me what you want, angel," I commanded, my voice rough with need.

"Touch m-me," she pleaded breathlessly. " hurts s’bad." She slurred through whiney hiccups

I smirked, trailing my fingers teasingly along her sides. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Show me."

She whimpered, arching into my touch. Her hand grasped mine, guiding it lower, over the swell of her breast and down her stomach. My breath caught as she pressed my palm between her thighs, where I could feel the heat radiating through her clothes.

"Here," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "Please-"

My hands slipped under her skirt, gently caressing her silky thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, her legs parting instinctively. I traced lazy circles on her inner thighs, inching higher with each pass.

"Is this what you need, angel?" I murmured, nipping at her earlobe.

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact. "Yes, yes! please- don't stop."

I chuckled darkly, my fingers finally brushing against the damp lace of her panties. She gasped, her back arching beautifully.

"So wet for me already," I purred, applying the slightest pressure. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction. "Such a needy little girl."

I captured her lips in a searing kiss as I pushed her panties aside

My fingers found her slick folds, toying with her sensitive nub. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rocking desperately against my hand.

"Please," she whimpered between kisses. "I need more. Please, please..."

I circled her clit slowly, building the tension. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she writhed in my lap.

"What do you need, angel? Tell me," I commanded softly.

"Your fingers... inside... please," she panted, her eyes glazed with lust.

I smirked, enjoying her desperation. Slowly, torturously, I slipped one finger inside her tight heat. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around me.

All I could do was admire her beauty—the way her glassy eyes pleaded with me in silence as she clung to me, desperate and fragile in my arms.

"More," she begged shamelessly. "Please, I need more."

I added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made her see stars. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her. My thumb circled her clit as I pumped my fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm.

"That's it, good- good girl," I murmured, watching her face contort in ecstasy. "Let go for me. Show me how good it feels."

Her hips rocked frantically against my hand, chasing her release. I could feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

"I'm- I'm so close," she gasped, her nails raking down my back.

I leaned down, capturing a nipple between my lips through the thin fabric of her shirt. The dual sensation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry, her body tensing and shuddering

She panted softly as she came down from her high, her wide, doe-like eyes gazing up at me with a mix of gratitude and adoration

She was now totally under my control

[leqonsluv3r]

hiii!! May i ask for a first date with Leon with a fem reader? Thanks!

bed chem

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, some swearing, readers ex being a dick, leon charming it up on the first date, sweet but passionate seggsy time bc i say so, unprotected pnv, nicknames; baby, sweet girl, honey, heavy making out on the first date (it happens), reader being a horny mess over leon (relatable honestly), and a bunch of other shit.

“she had been weighing the pros and cons of doing this for the past three days. it was the nerves of getting back out there after being in a shitty relationship, that were getting to her. she wanted to move on from that. but still…was this the best idea? she couldn’t just forget about her ex? right? she needed to but something — maybe anxiety — was clawing at her guts. she sat in the restaurant again that they were supposed to meet at, a blind date of all things. she was never this…bold. never this much of a risk taker. but she needed this, she cant remember the last time she had — “is this seat taken?” she is snapped out of her thoughts as she looks up and sees the most handsome man she’s probably ever laid eyes on. her ex boyfriend didn’t even compare by a long shot. she looked at him like a gaped fish, “uhm…no…it’s not…” she blubbers out. she was in for it.”

— or reader meets leon on a blind date and thinks maybe her ex breaking up with her wasn’t such a bad thing

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: i’m sorry this took me so long to get up. hope this is what you had in mind, anon.🩷🩷

she didn’t think this was a good idea.

not in the slightest, she had been single for only three months. she wasn’t waiting to long right? no, she wasn’t. she could do this.

even if her gut was screaming at her to do something differently, to run out of this restaurant and away from her blind date that was setup.

she wanted to run.

she stared at her wineglass of water, taking a small sip of it. she sighs softly, looking at her phone. he was five minutes late. did she get stood up? did he see her then turn around and leave? she swallowed and tried to not jump to conclusions. that probably wasn’t the case.

she hated that she was back to square one, if only her ex hadn’t dumped her right before christmas. she felt like she was stuck, having dated her ex for two years, she felt so out of the game with flirting. she was just going on this date to humor her friends, they said she was moping, said she needed to stop eating ice cream in her sweats on friday nights.

she had to agree, she needed to start going on dates…but blind ones? set up by her friends? not the smartest idea.

but they had told her to trust them. so she was, even though she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

she couldn’t do this, she was going to get up and leave, go right back to her apartment and —

“is this seat taken?” she hears a voice drawl from behind her shoulder. she swallowed, her insides melting like jello just at the four simple words this man had uttered. she tries to find words as he quickly rounds the table and sits down opposite from her. it’s like her eyes and brain are working faster then her mouth is, taking him all in. he was so beautiful, so…god, she didn’t even have a word for what he was.

she finally found some words and opened her mouth, “uhh, your…uhh…” she takes a deep breath and tries again, “your my blind date?” she finds herself saying. it came out more quiet and feeble then she would’ve liked but in this mans presence she’s lucky she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already.

he nods with a small subtle quirk of his lips, “leon kennedy.” he says as he grabs the menu, his eyes scanning over her for a quick second then averting to the specials on the sheet in front of him. she ducked her head down to look at her own menu, trying to seem focused on it when in hindsight, she wanted to ask where the cameras were. she was obviously being pranked. right?

she looks up from her menu and chances a look at leon again, she smiles softly and nervously when he catches her stare. he puts his menu down slowly against the table and looks at her. “are you going to tell me your name?” he says with a small teasing brow raise. she chuckles softly, averting her eyes and then looking back at him before saying her name softly. he hums in acknowledgment, his lips quirking up again. “cute name.”

jesus, fuck the dinner. she could just jump his bones right now.

the waiter doesn’t giver her a chance though and comes by to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. leon looks back at her, his blue eyes burning deeply into her soul as if trying to read her from across the table. “so why are you not on the dating apps?” is the first question he asks her. she blinks at him dumbly for a moment, trying to process his question. “uhm…i just got out of a relationship in december. i didn’t really feel like joining when all guys on there are all looking for the same thing.” she manages to say with a surprisingly confident tone.

he nods slowly as if understanding, “i get it.’ he says as he sips on his own glass of water. “so your not like a commitment-phobe or anything?” he says as he looks at her, folding his hands on the table. she chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes briefly darting down to his hands on the table and then back up to him. “no, i’m the opposite. me and my ex were together for two years.”

he shakes his head, “must’ve been an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you go.”

she feels her cheeks heat up a little under the dim lighting of the restaurant, “he just…wasn’t feeling it anymore.” she says with a small nervous smile, “it happens.” he scoffs and his blue eyes darken for a second. “if he was really for you, sweetheart, trust me. he wouldn’t just stop feeling it.” he says with a small grimace. almost looking in pain for her, like he hated what he was hearing.

“why are you on a blind date then?” she says softly to him, trying to desperately change the subject. he sighs and leans back in his chair a little, looking at her, “i’m sick of bouncing around.” he says as he looks at her, his tone less teasing and more serious. “going from girl to girl…its not what i want. im not happy that way.” he says with a small glance at her.

she nods slowly in understanding as he talked, acknowledging his words. the waiter came and sat their drinks down in front of them, putting a brief pause on the conversation. his drink — a whiskey on the rocks, hers — a simple dr pepper. he notices the lack of alcohol but decides to wait until the waiter is done taking their orders. once, the waiter walks away, he nods towards her soda, “a dr pepper? no alcohol?” he says with another raise of his eyebrow.

“i doin’t like drinking on the first date.” she says as she looks at him then his drink, “you obviously don’t mind that.” her tone and edge of sarcasm as she sips on her drink pepper again. he chuckles lowly and shakes his head, his ash blonde hair moving with him, “giving me shit now for my drink choice?”

“yeah, you gave me shit for mine. don’t think i didn’t notice.” she says as she sits back a little in her own seat across from him, crossing her legs beneath the table.

they continue talking for hours, eating their food and sipping on their drinks as they talk. this was going better then she had planned, learning more about leon then she intended. he didn’t seem like the talkative type but when they started discussing jobs, past pets, family, really anything. he seemed to open up and tell her pretty much whatever she wanted to know.

after they finished eating, she went to order dessert but he stopped her. “i have dessert at my place.’” which made her stop, the rush of butterflies and nerves at his words was enough to make her nod, close the dessert menu and request the check.

which he paid, in full, with…a platinum credit card.

she knew he was working for the government but jesus, he just whipped out the platinum to pay for their meal. she felt measly with her silly little plastic card in her purse, letting him escort her out the restaurant. they walked down the sidewalk until they get to a sleek black escalade. “did you drive here?” he says as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket. she looks at him and then the car, “yeah, i did.”

“how about…at the risk of sounding too forward, you come home with me? stay the night, you can take the bed if you want and…i’ll drop out back off at your car in the morning?” he says with a small tilt of his head, his blondish hair flopping by his ear as she looks at him. a small smile graced his features, she let out a small breath, turning the thoughts of potentially doing this in her head.

she nodded with a small smile on her face, “i would love too.”

he nods towards the escalade, “cmon,” he unlocks the escalade and opens the passenger door for her. she hesitantly moves forward and slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior of the car. she was in awe, shed never been in a car this…big before. also, it made her wonder.

leon wasn’t flaunting his wealth, he didn’t even seem to mind that he was somewhat wealthy. it made her have even more questions about him. they didn’t seem to end the more she spent time with him. was he not aware of how fortunate he was?

she was torn away from her thoughts when leon got into the drivers side of the car. looking over at her with a small smirk, “what?”

“you drive an escalade.” she states with a small blink, he shrugs and chuckles a little, almost finding it humorous. “so?”

he doesn’t realize this does he? good god, he’s a humble guy. why is that such a fucking turn on?

“it’s just…the escalade, the platinum card…?” she says with a small blubber as she looks at him, “your rich.” she states with little to no care for how it sounded. he chuckles and shakes his head, “yeah? im not too bad, i’ve got money.” he says with a small flush of his cheeks as he puts the keys in the ignition. she rolls her eyes, of course he’s not going to admit it.

he starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking spot. she swallows as she watches his hands from the passenger seat, the way his large hands encompass the steering wheel and turn it. she’s watching, almost drooling at how his veins in his hands. she sees him look over at her and she quickly darts her eyes away from basically eye-fucking his hands.

they were just…fuck, the things she would let those hands do to her.

he smirks in her peripheral vision, sliding one of his hands over the console and to the exposed knee of her dress, slowly squeezing it. she swallows, the touch was somewhat innocent but causing a herd of butterflies to swarm her stomach. she felt her underwear get uncomfortable already. she lets out a small shaky exhale, trying to act nonchalant.

she was so fucked.

she surprisingly made it back to his apartment in one piece. he was acting like a gentleman, even with his hand on her knee, keeping a steady hold on it as he drove. he didn’t raise his hand higher, a part of her wished he would’ve.

but he kept it on her knee, his whole hand practically engulfed that skin on her leg. she watched him drive out of the corner of her eye, studying him like a painting.

he was so gorgeous, even in the dim light of the streetlights. she was fully focused on him, his eyelashes, the way his eyes carefully and precisely watched the road.

the way he kept his lips — pink and full — pressed together as he studied every other car around them. he wasn’t afraid, he was focused. she wondered if he always focused on things like this, or if he was just like this when he drove.

but his attention seemed divided, one hand on her leg, his thumb even moving in small circles on her knee. she didn’t know how he did it all at once, all with ease. it was like he was handcrafted by some god, some amazing grace. she just couldn’t figure him out.

but it intrigued her.

even when he made it to his apartment, parking outside the building and pulling the keys out of the escalades ignition.

he moved with such precision and confidence, like he knew his next move before he made it. like he had a plan for every step he took. she wishes that she had that grace about her, she was clumsy and not put together at all.

but when they get out of the car, making their way to the doors of the lobby, he was holding onto her hand tightly. his hand engulfing hers as they walked. she liked the way his hand fit into hers, like it belonged that way. like it was meant to hold hers. she tries to fight the butterflies and the very obvious tension as they make their way to the elevator in the lobby.

once the elevator dings and they make their way into the elevator, she feels hotter, like the sexual tension of what’s to come is taking up all the air. she squeezes his hand a little, she feels his blue irises travel to her and stay there. he must’ve lived on the top floor, because they stood there for a moment. his free hand traveling up to her hair, pushing it away from her face.

“there’s those beautiful eyes.” he whispers, it sounded like he was saying it more to himself rather then her. her cheeks flushed all the same, connecting her own with his, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “i have beautiful eyes?” she whispers to him, almost afraid to break the spell, the tension that was slowly building as they got closer to his apartment.

he smirks slowly to himself, saying a little louder, “your eyes aren’t the only beautiful thing about you.” he says as he pushes more hair away from her face with his free hand, sliding his hand into her hair and holding it there. a small breath leaving her lips, letting them part as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. this man was something else, making her act out on the first date. which she never did.

“look at you,” he whispers, “such a good girl, you look so pretty.” he praises lowly, still holding her hair at the base of her skull in a tight fist. he was forcing her to look up at him, she didn’t even hate how her underwear flooded with need for him — for his hands. she just accepts the praise with a small embarrassed smile. she didn’t know how else to react, no guy had ever praised her so openly, called her beautiful.

her ex, he took her out on dates and the sex wasn’t too bad. but he never showed her off, loved her openly, made her feel special. that was the ultimate lead up to him leaving her for some girl he didn’t even know.

and it broke her, she never thought she’d feel that way again.

but here, with leon, she felt that familiar want. that need to be his and his only.

and god, was it terrifying. he was such a good guy, so attractive. she was so afraid that she’d screw it up in some way.

but it’s better to say she tried and failed rather then give up altogether.

the elevator dinger for his floor, pulling her out of her thoughts and snapping her eyes back up to his. she felt his h=free hand slowly leave her hair and his hand with hers, pulling on it towards the hallway outside the elevator. her stomach was a mess of knots and nerves as she followed him. her eyes taking in the surroundings around her, letting him practically drag her to his apartment.

and as soon as she was inside of his apartment, his lips were on hers and she was getting pushed up against a door. the first thing she registers is how amazing his lips are and how they feel against hers. she feels like her legs are going to give out under her, her lips meld with his. everything is happening so fast and her brain doesn’t have time to catch up to all of it.

before she knows it, he’s carrying her into his apartment, kissing every inch of her neck and jaw with his tongue and teeth. she lets out small sounds as he kisses her in spots that haven’t been touched in months. he puts her down onto the bed, hovering over her as his blue eyes meet hers. he looks so haunting in the moonlight. his sharp jawline and features, the way his cheekbones reflect in the moonlight thats streaming through the window.

“i normally don’t do this on the first date but your just…” he runs his fingers over the side of her thigh, making her dress pool up to her hips, “so fucking beautiful.” he whispers between them, like its a secret. she feels her cheeks flush nonetheless. she feels his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her underwear, lace that she put on and didn’t even anticipate this happening. she feels her breath quicken and her spine straighten under his touch.

he’s so methodical with his movements and it makes her think, the contrast difference between her ex and him. he’s so gentle, like she’s made of glass beneath his fingertips. her ex never had that, rough and demanding movements. she draws the difference as leon’s fingers slowly pull the lacy fabric down her thighs. she keeps wondering why his fingers and hands seem so calloused, she should have asked earlier at dinner, not when he’s exposing her to the cool air of his bedroom.

she exhales as her lacy underwear are tossed to the floor, suddenly his jacket is coming off and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. she can only let her eyes trace the way his biceps are practically straining underneath the confines of his dress shirt, the way they flex when he grabs her ankles and drags her to the end of his bed. she feels her heart beat almost entirely out of her chest.

she can’t help it, she’s a soaking mess by now and the fact he can see that by looking in between her thighs is enough to make her cheeks heat up. she closes her thighs, pressing them together. he chuckles low in his throat as he looks down at her, “don’t hide from me. cmon.” he says as his blue eyes seem to darken under the harsh moonlight coming into his bedroom.

he gently opens her thighs, letting himself glance at her glistening arousal. “so wet already?” he says it as if its more of a statement, rather than a question. she nods under his gaze as if he has all the power over her right now and in a way, he does. and he knows it. “this all for me?” he says with an almost haunting smirk on his features that it causes her to sharply inhale. she nods again and feels her chest rise and fall beneath her dress.

“your boosting my ego too much, baby.” he says as he crawls over her, his hands bracing on either side of her head, he leans down so he’s nose to nose with her. his blue eyes almost blown out with lust for her, she recalls never being looked at this way by her ex. even when they had sex, he refused the intimate side and made her go face down in the pillows. but leon, he’s devouring her with his eyes right now and it almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t.

“what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asks when he sees her eyes become glassy, surely he knows. he has a feeling that he maybe rushed it. should’ve let you go home after the date but…you looked sad. he cups her chin, looking down into her eyes. that action seems to make it harder for her to speak but she forces words out of her mouth. “my ex…he never…” she swallows more tears down her throat.

he watches her expression so closely — so methodically — that he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something. but he lets her speak, his hand slowly cupping her cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheek in a soothing gesture. even though he’s hard as steel right now and her pussy is out in the open, he is solely focused on how she feels right now. she notes in her brain that this is another reason why she likes leon so much already.

but she forces herself to finish her thoughts, “my ex never…he never…” she chokes on the words again. she realizes that it sounds stupid coming out of her mouth now, she almost wants to push it to the side and jump leon’s bones. but he’s not going to let it go until he knows she’s okay. “he never looked me in the eye, never…he wasn’t gentle.” she whispers as she looks up at him. she feels choked up and she hates how silly she sounds. like a hurt little girl who skinned her knee.

he sighs softly against her lips and brushes some tears from the crevice of her eye. he understands what she’s saying, her ex wasn’t intimate. didn’t take his time with her, didn’t put her needs first and that just doesn’t sit right with him one bit. in fact, it bothers him beyond recognition. how could someone just abandon their partners needs, the need to be validated and be intimate? he couldn’t change that for her but he could show her that he wasn’t like her exes.

“im not like that, princess. you know that by now don’t you?” he whispers against her lips as he gently brushes some hair out of her face. she nods almost immediately, “i know.” she says against his lips, solidifying that she knows. he could not even be compared to her ex, not even close. leon was far better than him and she’s only known leon for like five hours.

“good. now, im going to fuck you now. but listen,” he gently grabs her chin, a firm but soft hold as he angles her eyes to his. “i am going to take my time with you because you deserve that. you deserve to be loved and cherished.” he says softly with a small hint of compassion in his blue irises as he strokes his hand up and down her dress clad side. “and i am not going to let you look away, your going to look at me the entire time.” he says with a firm but rugged gentleness that suited him down to his very core.

she just nods slowly in his grip, that being the only thing she can do with his grip on her chin. he smiles — a little twitch of his lips — making him seem ten times more softer then he actually is. he leans back on the bed on his knees, looking down at her. “off.” he gestures to the dress thats still covering her. she swallows and sits up on his bed, slowly and methodically shimming the dress off of her frame.

once it’s gone and on the floor with her discarded lace underwear, she plays with the strap on her matching bra. he puts his large and calloused hand over hers, stopping her. “let me.” he mutters as he moved on his bed behind her, his fingers slowly tracing along her shoulder and going to the bra strap. he hovers his mouth over neck, his other hand brushing her hair away from her back, pressing his lips to her neck with such delicacy. she feels like she would miss it if she couldn’t feel his fingers slide down to the clasp of her lacy bra.

and once it’s discarded, he finds himself hoisting her backwards onto the mattress again. his lips finding hers in a sweet but delicate kiss that says — i have you, trust me. and she does, she finds herself trusting him as his hands hold her gently but firmly, a strong hold that weighs on her heart and mind.

she looks up at him through lustful eyes two moments later, her gaze locking on his as he strips off his pants and shirt, discarding them all on the floor. the body of a greek god, yet littered with small scars that catch in the moonlight. she thinks that maybe he has his own demons, the ones that haunt him when he goes to bed at night.

but she doesn’t have time to wonder, his cock, if not perfect like the rest of him. is now out, his hand slowly stroking the hard shaft for some semblance of relief. she gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him, she was completely and utterly soaked now.

she didn’t know how much longer she could last. she needed him.

he didn’t wait long to lean over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, much like before. his nose brushing against hers and she was bare as him. it should’ve made her nervous, made her scared beyond anything. but she didn’t have it in her to be scared, not when he was eyeing her like she was the holy grail.

he pressed another kiss to her lips, a little more rough this time, his tongue prodding at her mouth. begging for him to be let in. and how could she not oblige him? she let him in and he swirled his tongue with hers, her brain on autopilot and the conversation about her ex was long gone. the furthest thing from her mind at this point.

it was just him. his mouth and hers, the way his cock barely brushed against her soaked folds. she parted her knees more for him, accommodating his wide frame as he let a hand drift down to her hip, squeezing it as they sloppy made out.

a small moan slipped past her lips and onto his, his large hand kneading the extra fat of her hip and thigh and slowly he moved his hand in between them, brushing over her clit slowly. her breath caught a little and she couldn’t find words, she was wrecked already.

he chuckled lowly against her lips, words not exchanged as he guided his bulbous tip though her folds. soaking his tip in her release and making her tremble, small squeaks of arousal leaving her parted lips.

he found it amusing, if the expression on his face was any indication.

he silenced her again with a smooth press of hiss lips against her’s, soothing her worries and the small amount of anticipation she felt. he slipped just the tip inside of her, breaching her entrance. she gasped against his lips, he was big. it was just the tip and she was keening. practically clawing at his bare back. he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sliding in another inch, his thumb rubbing circles at her hip.

as he eased in inch by inch, she tried to focus on his kisses rather then how much he was stuffing her full inch by torturous inch. it felt like her body was buzzing, it was too much and not enough at the same time. she moaned softly when he slid in the rest of the way, she opened her mouth against his. she couldn’t handle it anymore. she lets out a shaky breath.

her hands held tighter to his back as he slowly moved his hips against hers. his hand squeezing hard at her hip enough to bruise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he slowly moved his hips, moving in and out of her. she bit on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his head dipped into her neck. she choked on moan after moan as he groaned and grunted against her neck, matching her noises in his own ways.

she let her nails sink into his back as he pumped his hips a little faster. her head fell back against his sheets, her lips parted, eyes shutting in ecstasy as he started hitting that spot within her repeatedly. she wasn’t going to last long if he kept it up, his harsh groans and breaths echoing along her neck and up into her ear. his lips pressing harshly to the skin. every time her nails dug into his bare back, he bit a little at her skin.

the pleasure and pain was intoxicating as he kept moving his hips, making her whimper and whine. she tried to speak but her words were caught and mumbles of pleasure were the only things to leave her parted lips. her expression wiped and dazed with lust as she took everything he gave her. never in her life had she felt this way with sex. she felt like she was floating and grounded at the same time.

she felt her stomach coil, knowing she was close to climax. she wordlessly moved one of her hands from his back into his dirty blonde locks, pulling his head out of her neck and pressing her lips to his. he just smirked against her lips and moved his hips a little faster, seeming to understand what she meant without words. she moaned louder against his lips as he pumped faster and faster, her head felt dizzy. her head dropped back against his sheets again, not enough energy to keep her lips locked with his.

“thats it baby, come for me. c’mon.” he growls as he nips at her neck, his hand sliding from her hip to her clit. rubbing it with small brushes of his thumb, she squeaked as she looked up at the ceiling. her eyes glazed over as the coil in her belly finally snapped. “fuck, your…squeezing me like a vice.” he muttered in a groan. he felt her spasm around him, his hips slowing as he fucked her through it.

he fucked her through it until she was squirming, he moved his hand off her clit. determined to chase his own release as he moved his hips again. he pressed his chest against hers and gripped her hip again. she let out a shaky gasp as he started moving again. her eyes watering at the overstimulation she was feeling in the moment. “shh, its…i’m close, baby. just hang on.” he grunts against her collarbones as he keeps moving his hips. she squeezed him a little again and he hissed.

she nods with a small whine as he pumps a little faster, practically shaking his bed. she was wondering if it was going to break but it didn’t seem like it would. his hips stuttering as he bit into her collarbone, she gasped in pleasure as she felt his spend fill her up and fill her belly. she blinked at the ceiling as he sighed against her collarbone. letting himself be vulnerable for a moment in the aftermath of their bliss. he just kept her filled with his cock, rubbing a hand up and down her side. his mouth gently pressing a kiss to one of her breasts. “your amazing.” he whispers as his eyes shut and he breathes some air into his lungs.

she felt his words deep down to her very soul as he pulled out of her, a small noise of loss as he removed himself from her snug walls. he laid down on his side next to her, sliding a hand down her stomach and to her entrance again. his spend mixed with hers was leaking out of her abused hole, his finger scooped up the fluid and pushed it back inside of her.

his eyes flaring with that possessive nature. he drifts his blue eyes to her blissed out face. he removes his finger from her entrance and traces it up to her jaw. he gently cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her bottom lip. “good?” he whispers gruffly as he scans her expression. she smiles dazedly and nods as she looks up at him. it wasn’t how she imagined the night going but getting to here, it was good. leon unintentionally was making her move on from the slump her ex put her in. she couldn’t be more grateful.

he smiles crookedly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just fuck her raw into his mattress.

“stay the night. i make good breakfast.” he says softly with a small chuckle, the boyish charm peeking out from his hard facade he had up. she nods with a small giddy smile, “only if you make me pancakes.” she whispers as her eyes stay locked on his blue ones. he was truly a sight to behold. every part of him was and she didn’t know how he could be single. she had to wonder if maybe he chose that for himself, for what reason? she didn’t know. he was a great guy.

an amazing kisser. funny, great in bed. the list kept going.

but he was nothing like her ex, that was the best thing about him. he wasn’t selfish, conceded and rude. maybe leon was the perfect one for her. maybe he wasn’t but she was trusting her gut this time. and her gut was telling her to stay, to let herself be coddled and be held like something precious. she was letting herself be happy for once and only time would tell if they were meant to be.

even if it was the first date, she was in love. silly, but true as she gently cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers again. she felt connected to him in more ways then one. she was diving headfirst into him and she didn’t even care. she was happy.

and thats all that truly mattered.

screw it only being the first date, she was his now. and that was a comforting thought as she slipped her arms around him again and breathed him in. this is what love was, or close to it, she was sure. his arms already felt like home, no matter how dangerous that was, it was hers.

and his, as it should be. forevermore. wrapped in each other, no matter what.

exes be damned.

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[mrsfancyferrari]

My Darling

Summary: Out of all the things George says over the years, there's one word that still makes you blush.

Song: Earned It · The Weeknd

Author’s note: THANK YOU FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS!! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the engine vibrates through your chest, a familiar feeling that settles you even amidst the pre-race jitters. The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. The final race of the season. Another year you’ve spent on the edge of your seat, watching George chase his dream.

You adjust your headset, the noise-cancelling mufflers doing little to completely silence the cacophony of the paddock. He's starting P3 today. A good position. A position where anything can happen.

You've known George Russell since you were awkward teenagers, navigating the minefield of secondary school. He was the lanky, perpetually energetic kid obsessed with karting, and you were the quiet one, buried in books and content to observe from the sidelines.

He dragged you into his world, fuelled by passion and the unwavering belief that he was destined for greatness. He was right, of course.

Now, standing in the Mercedes garage, surrounded by a whirlwind of mechanics and engineers, you feel a surge of pride, so potent it almost makes you dizzy. He’s come so far.

Your focus snaps back as George's voice crackles through your headset. "…and then, darling, I told Toto that the balance felt a little off in turn 7. We made some adjustments, and it's feeling much better now."

Darling.

That single word, so casually dropped, still manages to send a jolt of electricity through you. It always has. It's a habit of his, a comfortable term of endearment he seems to bestow on everyone from his mother to the team's catering staff. But when he says it to you, it feels different. Warmer. More intimate.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "Good to hear. Just focus on the start, George. You've got this." You manage to say, hoping your voice doesn't betray your inner turmoil.

"Always do, darling. Always do." He chuckles, and the sound sends another shiver down your spine. "See you after the race."

The line goes dead, and you let out a shaky breath. You hate this. Hated the way one simple word could throw you off balance.

You grab your clipboard, feigning interest in the tyre strategy, desperately trying to regain your composure.

The race unfolds in a blur of adrenaline and anxiety. You watch, heart hammering against your ribs, as George battles for position, expertly navigating the tight corners and high-speed straights.

Every overtake, every defensive move, sends a wave of relief or panic washing over you. He finishes second. A great result.

Later, after the post-race interviews and the podium celebrations, you find him in the cool-down room, towelling off his sweaty hair. He looks exhausted but exhilarated, his eyes shining with hard-earned triumph.

"You were amazing out there," you say, offering him a water bottle.

He takes a long swig, the muscles in his throat working. "Thanks. Felt good. Could have been better, but I'll take it." He grins, and the weariness seems to melt away. "So, darling, what did you think of that move on Leclerc in turn 6?"

There it is again. That word.

You feel your cheeks flush. "It was… impressive. Very aggressive."

He laughs. "Had to be! He wasn't going to give me the position otherwise. Besides," he adds, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I knew you were watching. Had to put on a show."

Your heart skips a beat. "Oh, really?" You try to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"Of course! Always got to impress my biggest fan." He playfully nudges your shoulder. "So, fancy grabbing some dinner? Celebratory Nando’s?"

Nando’s it is. You and George have had a tradition to go to Nando’s after every single race since he started in F1.

The restaurant is buzzing with energy, filled with fans buzzing about the race. You and George manage to find a relatively quiet booth in a corner, and settle in.

"So," George says, after you've both ordered your food, "what did you really think about the race?"

You tell him honestly, praising his overtaking skills, gently pointing out a couple of areas where he could have been smoother. He listens intently, nodding occasionally, absorbing your feedback. He values your opinion, always has.

Even after all his success, he still trusts your judgement.

"You know," he says, leaning back in his seat, "I really appreciate you being here, at all the races, darling. It means a lot."

The word hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken meaning. You look down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of the napkin.

"I wouldn't miss it," you say softly. "Seeing you achieve your dreams… it's incredible."

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "You've been there since the beginning. Through all the karting races, the Formula 4 championships, everything. You've always believed in me, even when I doubted myself."

You meet his gaze, your heart swelling with emotions you've kept buried for far too long. "I always will, George."

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the clatter of plates and the murmur of conversations around you. Then, George speaks again, his voice thoughtful.

"You know, I don't think I tell you enough how much I appreciate you, darling. You're not just a friend, you're… you're family."

Family. The word echoes in your mind, a bittersweet melody. You cherish your friendship with George, but you long for something more. Something deeper.

"I feel the same way," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The food arrives, momentarily interrupting the conversation. You both dig in, the familiar taste of peri-peri chicken a welcome distraction. But the unspoken feelings still linger in the air, a tangible presence between you.

At the end of the meal, George drives you home. As he turns to you before you get out of the car, he says, “I had a great time, darling. We should do it again.”

As the years pass, George's career continues to soar. He wins races, challenges for championships, becomes a household name. Your life, too, evolves.

You pursue your own dreams, excel in your chosen field, building a successful career. But through it all, your friendship with George remains a constant, a source of unwavering support and affection.

And still, he calls you "darling."

He doesn’t realize the effect he has on you. How your heart skips a beat when he says it, how your palms get clammy, how you have to consciously fight the urge to blurt out something ridiculously embarrassing. He uses it with everyone, you tell yourself.

It's just a friendly term of endearment. But still, you can't help but feel a little different when he says it to you. Special, even.

One evening, years after that Abu Dhabi race, you're at George's house, helping him pack for the summer break. He's sprawled on the bed, surrounded by a mountain of clothes, looking utterly overwhelmed.

"I have no idea what to take," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "It's supposed to be relaxing, but I always end up overpacking."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Leave it to me. I'm a master packer."

You start sorting through the clothes, folding shirts and neatly arranging them in his suitcase. George watches you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he says, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "you're the only person who can make packing look effortless."

"Years of practice," you reply, without looking up.

"Speaking of years," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "we've known each other for a really long time, haven't we, darling?"

There it is again. That word. But tonight, it feels different. Heavier. More deliberate.

You finally meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "We have," you say softly.

He held your gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the gears turning in his head, something shifting behind those hazel eyes. You braced yourself, wondering if he was finally going to say something, anything, to acknowledge the undercurrent that buzzed between you.

But then, he blinked, and the moment was gone. He chuckled, a light, disarming sound. "It's crazy, isn't it? All those years of school, all the races we've been to, all the… well, everything. Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

Relief and disappointment warred within you. He wasn’t going to confess anything. He wasn't going to say anything at all. He was just going to keep calling you “darling,” completely unaware of the effect it had on you.

You forced a smile, trying to match his lighthearted tone. "It does. And we've definitely had a lot of… everything."

He nodded, leaning back against the headboard. "Remember that time in Monaco, when you accidentally dumped a bucket of ice water on Toto?"

You groaned. "Don't remind me. I thought I was going to be banned from Formula 1 for life."

He laughed, a genuine, booming sound that filled the room. "You were lucky he has a sense of humor. Anyway, back to the packing. What do you think? Three pairs of swim trunks or four?"

The tension had dissipated, replaced by the comfortable familiarity that had defined your friendship for so long. You sighed inwardly. The moment had passed, and with it, any hope of clarity.

You turned back to the suitcase, picking up a pair of bright blue swim trunks. "Three is plenty, darling. Unless you're planning on entering a speed-swimming competition."

He grinned, completely oblivious. “You never know!”

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable blur of folded clothes, shared memories, and lighthearted banter. You told him about your upcoming photography exhibition, he regaled you with stories of his disastrous attempt at learning to surf, and the word "darling" continued to slip from his lips with casual ease, each utterance a tiny pinprick of longing.

Later, as you were leaving, George walked you to the door. He paused, his hand resting on your arm. "Thanks for doing this," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I really appreciate it. You always know how to make things easier."

"Anytime," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just promise me you won't spend the entire vacation glued to your phone."

He chuckled. "I'll try my best, darling."

He hugged you goodbye, a brief, friendly embrace that left you wanting more. As you walked down the driveway, you could feel his gaze on your back.

You resisted the urge to turn around, knowing that seeing him standing there, bathed in the warm glow of the porch light, would only make your heart ache more.

You knew, with a certainty that settled heavy in your stomach, that George wasn't going to say anything. He was comfortable with the way things were, with your comfortable friendship, with the casual affection he expressed so freely.

And you, you were destined to remain on the periphery of his life, forever blushing at a word he didn't even realize held so much power.

As you drove away, you whispered to yourself, “Goodbye, darling.” It tasted of longing and unrequited hope. You knew that the word would continue to haunt you, a constant reminder of a love that could never be. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Maybe the quiet ache of longing was better than the risk of shattering the fragile balance of your friendship. . . .

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

The Ibizan sun beat down on George, but he barely registered it. He lay sprawled on a white sun lounger, the epitome of relaxation, yet a million miles away in his head.

His family buzzed around him; his father tinkering with the pool filter, his sister Cara splashing in the shimmering water with her children tossing a frisbee. Normally, he would be right in the thick of it, teasing his nieces, engaging in some competitive sports.

But not today. Today, he was lost in the past.

He clutched his phone, the screen replaying a grainy video. It was eight years old, a relic from a simpler time. A time before roaring engines, screaming fans, and the relentless pressure of Formula 1. A time when his biggest concern was acing his Physics exam and impressing a certain girl with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

That girl was Y/N.

The video, a chaotic mess of shaky camera work and teenage exuberance, documented a day in their 'exciting' secondary school life. Y/N, the mastermind behind the whole thing, had insisted on capturing their mundane reality for posterity.

He remembered protesting at the time, embarrassed by the prospect of immortalising their awkwardness. Now, he was grateful.

On the screen, a younger version of himself, all gangly limbs and nervous energy, fumbled with his tie as he walked alongside Y/N. Her laughter, bright and infectious, echoed from the phone's speakers, cutting through the gentle lapping of the pool water. She was narrating, her voice brimming with youthful enthusiasm.

"Good morning, world! It's Y/N, and this is 'A Day in the Life of Two Utterly Average Teenagers'. Prepare for thrills, spills, and questionable fashion choices!"

The video cut to a shaky shot of the school gates, then to a montage of their lessons. George cringed as he watched himself struggle to solve a quadratic equation, Y/N whispering the answer beside him with a playful smirk. There was a clip of them sharing chips at lunchtime, fighting over the last one. Another of them huddled over textbooks in the library, Y/N’s hand resting lightly on his arm as she explained a complex concept. He could almost feel the warmth of her touch, the faint scent of her lavender perfume that always lingered in the air around her.

The video was utterly pointless, utterly ridiculous, and utterly captivating. It was a window into a time when life was uncomplicated, when happiness resided in shared glances and whispered jokes. It was a reminder of the deep connection he shared with Y/N, a connection that had only deepened with time.

He was supposed to be sharing this holiday with her. They had planned it for months, a much-needed escape from the relentless F1 calendar. But then, a last-minute work commitment had forced her to cancel. An important project, she had explained apologetically, her voice laced with disappointment. He had understood, of course, but it didn't make her absence any easier to bear.

He was so engrossed in the video, reliving those cherished memories, that he didn’t notice someone sitting beside him until they spoke.

"Where's Y/N? I haven't seen her in a while," his mother, Alison, asked, her voice laced with concern.

George jumped, startled, nearly dropping his phone. He looked up at his mother, her eyes filled with gentle curiosity. “Oh, hi Mum. She… she couldn’t make it. Work stuff.”

Alison's brow furrowed. "That's a shame. I was looking forward to seeing her. She's practically family at this point."

George smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "She is, Mum. She really is."

He paused the video, the image of a laughing Y/N frozen on the screen. "I miss her, you know?" he confessed, the vulnerability surprising even himself. "I miss just… being around her. Being normal."

Alison reached out and squeezed his hand. "I know, darling. It's hard when life pulls you in different directions. But you two have something special. Don't let anything break that."

He nodded, his throat tight. "I won't." He knew she was right. Their connection was strong, forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unwavering support. It had weathered long distances, demanding careers, and the constant pressures of his public life. He wouldn't let it falter now.

"Show me the video," Alison said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Let's see what you two were like back in the day."

George hesitated for a moment, then handed her the phone. As they watched the video together, he found himself explaining the context, reliving the stories behind each clip. His mother laughed at their teenage antics, her face softening with fondness. He realised, with a surge of gratitude, that his family understood his relationship with you. They saw something special in it, something he had been too afraid to acknowledge.

After the video ended, Alison handed the phone back to him. "She's a good one, George. Don't take her for granted."

"I won't, Mum. I promise," he'd replied, a little too quickly.

Then came the bombshell. “Try and ask her out soon,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

“What!” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He hadn’t expected that. He thought his mum would be more cautious, tell him to take things slow. This was the opposite of that.

“Oh, come on! Everyone can see it, George. Except maybe you, in your state of blissful denial.” His sister, Cara, perched beside him on the sun lounger, her eyes knowing. "She's practically perfect for you, you know. Smart, funny, loves dogs… what's not to like?"

The rest of the holiday passed in a blur of sun, sea, and a constant internal debate. You were always on his mind.

He found himself reaching for his phone to text you, only to stop himself, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship with clumsy advances. Rejection scared him, especially from you.

He glanced at the group of sunbathers by the pool, families laughing and couples holding hands. It made him feel a pang of loneliness, a longing for something more than just friendship with you.

Finally, on the last day of the holiday, he decided he couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to talk to you. At least, send a message. He typed and deleted several texts, each one sounding more ridiculous than the last.

“Hey Y/N, just thinking of you. Hope you’re having a good week!” - Too generic.

“Missing you! Greece is great, but it would be better with you.” - Way too forward.

“Fancy grabbing a coffee when I get back?” - Too casual.

He groaned and threw his phone onto the sun lounger. He was overthinking it. Terribly.

Later that evening, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, George found himself alone on the beach. The gentle lapping of the waves was the only sound that broke the silence. He picked up a smooth, white stone and skimmed it across the water.

"Overthinking it, are we?"

George jumped, startled, and turned to see his sister, Cara, walking towards him, a knowing smile on her face.

"How did you…?" he began.

"Oh, please. I know you better than you know yourself," she said, sitting down beside him on the sand. "Look, George, I know you're scared. You don't want to ruin the friendship you have with Y/N. But sometimes, you have to take risks. Life's too short to wonder 'what if?'"

He sighed. "It's just… what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I make things awkward? What if…?"

"What if she does?" Cara interrupted. "What if she's been waiting for you to make a move? You won't know unless you try. And honestly, the way she looks at you? It's pretty obvious to everyone but you."

Cara’s words hung in the air, a stark challenge to his own self-doubt. He knew she was right. He couldn't let fear dictate his actions. He had to be brave.

When George returned home, he went straight to his apartment and after some thought, he texted you.

He replayed their text exchange in his head, his palms sweating.

George: Hey darling, how are you doing? Hope work isn't too crazy.

Y/N: Hey George! Glad you're back from your holidays. I'm good, swamped with work as always, but surviving. How was Ibiza?

George: It was nice, but glad to be home. Actually, I was wondering if you were free sometime this week? I’d love to hear all about what you’ve been working on.

Y/N: I might be. What did you have in mind?

George: There’s this new italian place I've been wanting to try.

Y/N: Dinner? You’re asking me on date, George?

That text had sent his heart into overdrive.

George: Only if you want it to be.

The agonizing minutes of waiting, the wave of relief when she finally responded.

Y/N: I’d like that very much.

He knew he had to confess. He couldn’t just dance around the issue any longer, teasing himself and her. He had to lay it all on the line after dinner.

Now, as he waited for the time to pick her up, he felt a nervous energy he hadn't experienced since his first F1 race. He checked his reflection one last time, smoothing down his hair.

He was wearing a crisp, dark blue shirt, tailored to fit perfectly, and dark jeans.

Smart casual, he hoped. . . .

The hum of the hair dryer vibrates in your hand, a dull counterpoint to the frantic drum solo your heart is currently playing. George asked you to dinner. Just dinner. A friendly dinner. To discuss work and his upcoming holiday.

You repeat the mantra in your head like a lifeline, trying to quell the butterflies that have taken up residence in your stomach.

The dryer clicks off, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. A strand of hair stubbornly refuses to cooperate, twisting into a rogue curl despite your best efforts.

You sigh. This is ridiculous. It's just dinner. With George. Your best friend. Right?

Your gaze drifts towards the two dresses laid out on your bed, each a stark contrast to the other, each holding a different promise. The first, a little black dress, is a classic. Short, sleek, and undeniably alluring.

It hugs your curves in all the right places, the low-cut neckline hinting at just enough skin to be intriguing without being overtly provocative. You imagine yourself in it, feeling confident and sophisticated, ready to take on the world.

Or at least, ready to face George.

Then there's the blue dress. Long, flowing, and ethereal. The color is a vibrant cerulean, mirroring the summer sky, and the fabric shimmers with a subtle, almost otherworldly glow.

It's elegant and understated, the kind of dress that makes you feel like you could float away on a gentle breeze. It hides more than it reveals, whispering of secrets and untold stories.

You pace between the two dresses, your mind a battlefield of conflicting desires. The black dress screams confidence, but is it trying too hard?

Would George think you're trying to send a message that isn't there? The blue dress, on the other hand, feels more like you. Honest. Authentic. But is it too… casual?

After what feels like an eternity, you make your decision. The blue dress. It feels right. It feels like you. And tonight, you need to be yourself.

You slip into the dress, the cool fabric cascading down your body like liquid silk. You smooth it over your hips, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. A light touch of mascara, a swipe of your favorite lip gloss, and you're ready.

The doorbell rings, and your heart leaps into your throat. You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, and walk towards the door.

When you open it, George is standing there, looking impossibly handsome in a tailored crisp, dark blue shirt and dark jeans. His blue eyes widen slightly as he takes you in, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.

"Wow darling," he says softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "You look… amazing."

You blush, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. "Thanks," you manage to stammer, your voice betraying your nervousness. "You look pretty good yourself."

He grins, that familiar, boyish grin that still makes your heart skip a beat after all these years. "Shall we?" he asks, extending his arm.

You slip your arm through his, and together, you step out into the warm evening air.

He leads you to his car, a sleek, dark Mercedes that screams money and success. He opens the passenger door for you with a flourish. "After you darling," he says, a playful glint in his eyes.

As you slide into the buttery leather seat, the scent of his cologne – a subtle blend of spice and citrus – fills your senses. You buckle your seatbelt, acutely aware of his presence beside you.

“So,” he says, pulling away from the curb. “Italian tonight? Heard they make a mean carbonara.”

“Italian’s perfect,” you reply, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating. “I’m starving.”

The drive is comfortable, punctuated by easy conversation. You catch up on his whirlwind month – the adrenaline-fueled races, the sun-drenched beaches of his holiday. He listens intently as you recount your own, significantly less glamorous, experiences at work.

“It’s nice to just… talk,” he says, his voice softer than usual. He glances at you briefly, a fleeting smile playing on his lips. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It has,” you agree, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “A month is a lifetime in George Russell time.”

He chuckles. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m living five different lives at once.”

The restaurant is tucked away on a quiet street, a charming establishment with twinkling fairy lights and the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs. George leads you to a table tucked in a cozy corner, away from the main bustle of the dining room.

“Table for two, Signore Russell?” the waiter asks, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“That’s right,” George replies, flashing him a charming smile. “And this lovely lady is… Y/N.”

You smile at the waiter, feeling a surge of affection for George. He always remembers to introduce you, no matter how famous he gets.

As you settle into your seats, you have the familiar sensation of being utterly at ease in George's presence. You've known each other since you were both gangly teenagers with braces and questionable fashion choices.

You've seen him at his best and his worst – celebrating victories, nursing broken hearts, struggling through exam stress. He's seen you through equally tumultuous times.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you peruse the menu. You reminisce about old times – the disastrous school play where George forgot his lines, the time you accidentally set his hair on fire during a chemistry experiment, the countless late-night study sessions fuelled by copious amounts of sugary snacks.

“Remember Mr. Henderson’s history class?” you ask, laughing. “He used to fall asleep mid-sentence.”

George shakes his head, grinning. “And we’d draw moustaches on his notes. Good times, darling, good times.”

That word again. Darling. It still has the same effect on you.

As the waiter takes your order, George leans forward, his expression becoming more serious. “So, how are you, really?” he asks, his blue eyes searching yours. “How’s everything going?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. “I’m… okay,” you say cautiously. “Work’s been hectic, but nothing I can’t handle.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “And personally?”

You sigh. “Honestly, it’s been a little lonely. I miss having you around.”

His gaze softens. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “More than you know.”

As your meals arrived, the waiter offered a bottle of Chianti. George raised an eyebrow at you in question, and you nodded, deciding to throw caution to the wind. The wine was rich and smooth, loosening your tongue and easing the tension that still lingered beneath the surface.

"Remember that time we tried to sneak into that over-18s club?" you asked, swirling the wine in your glass.

George laughed. "And got caught immediately! Your fake ID was so bad, it said you were born in 1888."

"Hey, it was worth a shot," you retorted, grinning. "Besides, we ended up having more fun at that dodgy karaoke bar. Your rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was truly unforgettable."

The laughter flowed freely, punctuated by shared memories and inside jokes. You talked about everything and nothing, the years melting away as you rediscovered the easy camaraderie that had always defined your friendship.

"It's just… it's hard, isn't it?” you said, the smile fading slightly. “Watching you achieve all your dreams, knowing that you're living the life you always wanted. I'm happy for you, I truly am, but it also makes me question my own choices."

George reached across the table and took your hand, his touch sending a familiar shiver down your spine. "Don't," he said softly. "Don't ever think that your life is any less important or fulfilling than mine. We all have different paths to follow, different things that make us happy."

He paused, his gaze intense. "And, to be honest, sometimes I envy you. You have a sense of normalcy, a stability that I often crave. The racing world is… insane. It's all-consuming. Sometimes I wish I could just escape it all and live a normal life, like you."

You laughed, incredulous. "You? Want to be normal? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it," he said, squeezing your hand. "And you know what else? All this success, all the trophies and champagne… they mean nothing if I can't share them with the people I care about."

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable haze of wine, conversation, and shared history. As the waiter cleared the table, George suggested a walk. You readily agreed.

As you stepped out onto the bustling city street, the cool air sent a shiver down your spine. The night was alive with the hum of traffic and the murmur of conversations spilling from open doorways.

Neon signs cast a colourful glow on the wet pavement, reflecting in the puddles like scattered jewels.

"Do we know where we're going, or are we just wandering?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

George simply grinned, that familiar, charming grin that had always made your stomach flutter a little. "Don't worry, trust me."

Trust George? You always had. You'd known him since the awkward days of secondary school, a lifetime ago. He was a constant, a familiar comfort in your life. You started walking, falling into step beside him.

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did between you. He talked about the upcoming Formula 1 season, the pressure, the anticipation, the relentless training. He spoke of the new car, the tweaks, the improvements they were hoping for. His passion was infectious, even to someone like you, who only understood the basics of motorsport.

Then, you found yourself venting about your own work. Another day, another unreasonable client, another project that felt soul-crushingly pointless. "Honestly, George," you sighed, "I think I'm going to lose my mind if I have to write another article about the top ten cat breeds for apartment living. My creative soul is dying a slow and painful death."

He chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. "You know, you could always quit. You're talented, you could do anything you want. Write that novel you've been talking about for years. Open that quirky little bookstore you always dreamed of. Life's too short to be writing about Persian fluffballs."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Multi-Millionaire Racing Driver. Someone has to pay the bills."

"Hey," he protested playfully, "I'd happily support you. Think of it as an investment in the arts."

"Very generous," you teased. "Maybe I should just marry you for your money."

He stopped walking, turning to face you, his expression suddenly serious. "Don't say that, even as a joke." He paused, then added softly, "I wouldn't want you to marry me for the wrong reasons."

The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. You quickly looked away, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you. "I was just kidding, obviously."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and resumed walking. The comfortable rhythm of your conversation was slightly disrupted, replaced by a strange, unspoken tension. You both walked in silence for a little bit.

After some time, you noticed that the sounds of the city were fading, replaced by the gentle roar of the ocean. The air smelled of salt and seaweed.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity piqued.

He just smiled mysteriously. "Almost there."

Finally, he stopped. You were standing on a deserted stretch of beach, the waves crashing softly against the shore. In the distance, you could see the faint glow of the city lights reflecting on the water. And then you saw them.

Balloons. Dozens of them, bobbing gently in the night breeze. They were inflated with helium, their strings tied to small weights that kept them from floating away. And emblazoned across the balloons, in large, cheerful letters, were the words: "WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You must have stumbled upon someone else's surprise, you thought. It was a sweet gesture, incredibly romantic. You started to turn to George, ready to apologize for intruding on someone's special moment.

"George, I think someone is asking some…" The words died in your throat as you saw what he was holding. A bouquet of your favorite flowers, lilies and roses, their delicate petals illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a gasp. What? This couldn't be…

George looked incredibly nervous, his usually confident demeanor replaced by a vulnerability you'd rarely seen. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clutching the flowers tightly.

He took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice slightly shaky. "Darling," he said, and the sound of that single word sent a shiver down your spine. Out of all the things George had said to you over the years, there was something about "darling" that was uniquely special. It felt warm, intimate, and utterly disarming.

"Darling, from the moment I was paired with you in year nine to do that disastrous science experiment," he continued, a small smile playing on his lips, "I knew you were going to be a special person in my life. I just didn't know how special until a few months ago. Will you be my special person and be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You couldn't believe this was happening. You and George? After all these years? It felt like something out of a movie, too perfect to be real.

"Yes, George," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Relief washed over his face, and the biggest grin you'd ever seen spread across his features. He carefully placed the bouquet on the sand, then stepped towards you, his eyes shining with happiness.

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. "Really? Yes?"

You nodded, unable to speak. The tears were flowing freely now, but they were tears of joy, of disbelief, of pure, unadulterated happiness.

He lowered his head and gently kissed you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, filled with tenderness and affection. It was a kiss you had dreamed about countless times, a kiss you never thought would actually happen.

When he pulled away, he was grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You actually said yes."

"Of course, I said yes," you replied, laughing through your tears. "What took you so long?"

He chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I was terrified," he admitted. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're one of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You hugged him tighter, burying your face in his shoulder. "You could never lose me, George. I've been secretly in love with you since that disastrous science experiment in year nine."

He laughed, squeezing you even closer. "So, all this time…"

"All this time," you confirmed, pulling back to look at him. "Now, about those balloons…"

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, whispered confessions, and stolen kisses under the moonlight. You walked along the beach, hand in hand, talking about the future, about your hopes and dreams, about all the possibilities that lay ahead.

Later, as you sat wrapped in his arms, watching the sunrise paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, you finally found the courage to tease him.

"You had me scared for a second there," you laughed softly, nuzzling into his chest.

"Why?" George asked worriedly, his arms tightening around you.

"Your speech sounded like a proposal," you said, your voice light and teasing.

George grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you're going to be a fiancée soon enough."

You gasped, playfully shoving him. "George! Don't even joke about that!"

He laughed, pulling you closer. "I'm not joking, darling. I know we've only just started dating, but I know what I want. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Your heart fluttered. "You're crazy," you whispered, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you.

"Crazy about you," he corrected, kissing your forehead. "Now, tell me, what kind of ring do you like? Just so I have an idea," he winked at you

You playfully roll your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Am I?" George playfully nips at your ear. "Maybe. But a guy can dream, can't he?"

The first rays of sunlight kiss your skin, a soft warmth that mirrors the feeling in your heart. You are finally with George, the man you have loved for so long.

And as you look up at him, at the love shining in his eyes, you know that this is just the beginning of your beautiful life together. . .

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Thinking about turning a big, strong, stoic man into your lovesick, emotional baby...

His sculpted shoulders and back slump from a hard day's work as he's hunched over in his car, keeping the thought of his sweetheart in the forefront of his mind, only to keep him from losing it.

God, he loves you. So much.

The second he walks through the door, he's calling out your name. His weary eyes rest for a moment before snapping open upon hearing gentle your footsteps.

Bending down, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you against him and tucking his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, exhaling everything causing him stress.

"Missed you so much. God, baby, I really missed you."

He authenticates his whispers by stroking your head and leaving spontaneous kisses on your forehead and cheeks.

"I missed you too, honey. Long day, huh?"

The sound of your voice results in a tighter grip around your waist as he sighs, drinking you in.

"Mmm... can we lay down?"

Mumbles tickle your skin, causing you to giggle and nod. He crouches down to the height of your abdomen, cupping the skin of your thighs, lifting you onto his hip.

Burrowing himself into the corner of your sectional couch, he grabs onto your hips, pulling you into him like he would wither away without you.

"That looks so uncomfortable baby, let me help you out, okay? Just relax for me."

His anxieties visibly melt away at your words, prominent crows feet and worry lines softening ever so slightly at the soothing touch of your gentle hands freeing him from his white button down. One by one.

Slow circles are massaged into his fleshy but firm chest, the beating of his heart slows while his breath hitches. His large hands hold onto you, right hand innocently resting on your ass, left snaked around your back, holding you right under your bust.

"So tense... that's no good. I've got you. Aw, my big, pretty baby."

He lets go of the tension buried deep in his neck, forehead connecting with your shoulder. You rake your hands through his hair, nails lightly scritching at his scalp. He angles his heavy head up to rest on your chest, staring up at his angel. You look down, smiling at the pink tint on his cheeks. One hand circling around his strong shoulders, you cradle him like a baby.

Your fingertips trace over his sharp features, leaving kisses in their wake. His skin is burning hot under your lips. You rest your head atop his, basking in the warm love shared between you two. Suddenly, you hear a quiet sniffle.

"Oh baby, are you crying? What - what's wrong?"

The gentleness and understanding in the voice he adores only causes more salty tears to bubble up in his deep eyes. There's no judgment, only worry. He buries his face deeper into your chest, embarrassed to be so affected by your small gestures of love.

He huffs out, nipping playfully at your collarbone.

"Just... I just love you a lot, is all. You're so... I can't explain how you make me feel, baby. But I feel it so strongly. So, so strongly."

He looks up, kissing your cheek, strong palm holding your face close to his. You smile, letting him hold his cheek to yours, peaceful silence once again consuming the atmosphere.

"Okay, I'm done. Let me love you now. Enough of this sappy shit."

His boyish smile almost outshines his misty eyes as you finish wiping the remaining tears staining his face before he flips you over, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

He just loves you so much.

Miguel O'hara and Toji Fushiguro ♡

I'm sorry if you feel like this is a mischaracterization... I just love the idea of big ol' emotional men 🤭 a strong man who is only sensitive in front of his woman is a man I want. Let me baby you, Mr. Macho 😭😭

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[eebeewrites]

Modern Fantasy: Nerdy Loser Elf BF x femchubby reader! (18+) Part 7

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6

When you walked inside the library with him, you felt like you were going to be sick. You hadn’t experienced this kind of anxiety in years. You took a deep breath. In a way, this was just another performance. He said to be yourself, but you weren’t sure how you’d go about that here.

They were sequestered in a small computer lab at the back of the library. It wasn’t rundown or old, just small; according to Taleisin, this was for the best, as they were apparently prone to getting a bit excited.

The two of you stood in front of the door, voices chattering on the other side. You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but to your relief, it didn’t seem to be about you.

He put a hand on your shoulder, “you sure you still wanna do this? I mean, I want you to, but I want you to not be uncomfortable even more, so…”

“No, I do, I just…I don’t wanna be annoying,” you mumbled.

“You’re not, trust me. And in the 0.0001 chance someone says you are, I’ll beat them up,” he grinned.

You smiled; he couldn’t hurt a fly. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

He smiled back at you before pushing the door open, leading you inside the computer lab. The conversation stopped, and everyone turned their heads at you. Some of them looked like the stereotypical nerds you’d see in a cheesy 80’s movie. Some of them looked just as out of place as you did, as if they were better suited for football rather than League of Legends.

He cleared his throat, as if he was making an announcement. “So, this is my girlfriend!” He beamed as he introduced you, smiling with pride as you awkwardly waved. They waved back at you; it was as if they were just as afraid of you as you were of them.

“Are those for us?” One of them asked, pointing to the Tupperware container of cookies. You nodded, setting them down on the desk at the front of the room.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said another. Your idea had paid off, and the cookies were quickly gone. Everyone gathered around the desk as they ate, some of them picking up their conversations from before. One of them turned towards you.

“So you like, sing and shit, right?”

You nodded, hoping this wouldn’t lead to a situation like what had happened at his parents’ house. “Yeah, I’m in the Bards College.”

“Nice.”

When the conversation shifted, you tried to hide your sigh of relief. You were content just watching them banter, but they made an effort to try and include you in their conversations.

“So, do you play?”

You shook your head, “no, but it looks fun, I wanna try it. He said he’d teach me.”

One of his teammates turned to face Taleisin. “Getting your girlfriend to play League? That sounds illegal.”

“It was her idea, not mine!”

Despite all of them clearly being very passionate about the game, the general consensus was you shouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.

This week was special; occasionally, other schools would offer to scrimmage before their official match. It was a mutually beneficial agreement; both sides getting to learn what to watch out for and what to practice.

They had sat down in front of the computers, waiting for the other school to start the match. Just like when you had watched him at home, when the game started everyone focused up. They all sat in the same row, with you sitting behind him.

You had learned a bit about the process for the competitive matches; each team got to ban out five characters from being played. They had looked over the players on the enemy team earlier, and knew what they wanted to avoid playing against. However, it seemed Taleisin had a history of being targeted.

“If they let Yasuo through, don’t pick it, save it for the actual game,” the boy next to him said. “If they don’t see it as a threat, they might let it through.”

“No one has let me play Yasuo the entire season, my guy. Just let them waste their bans on me, I’ll be fine.” He had a bit of a cockier air to him than usual, but given the subject matter, he came across a little silly. He turned back to face you, “they ban all my shit because they’re afraid of me,” he grinned.

“Is that so?” You said playfully.

“No, it’s because he plays the most annoying, toxic champions to ever exist.”

He shrugged, “both can be true at the same time.”

Sure enough, the first three bans were all pointed towards him. From what you had gathered, he was ranked the highest out of everyone on the team; it made sense for him to focused. Still, it couldn’t have made it any less annoying.

- - - -

🔵: so she’s hot

🟡: yeah idk how he pulled her

🔴: I still can’t believe bro fucks

You heard a phone vibrate. The boy next to you looked at his notifications, then promptly placed the phone back on the table, the screen facing down. Still, the phone kept buzzing.

🔵: not only does bro fuck but he’s 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

🔵: like there’s no fucking way he ‘forgot to mute his mic’ bffr

He grabbed his phone, shifting his body away from you as he typed.

🟢: I stand by what I said earlier

🟢: would

🟡: do you seriously think that was intentional tho? Like why

🔴: maybe some weird fetish thing idk

🔴: anyway time to lock in

He put his phone down again, and the loading screen for the match popped up. The first of three, the game had begun.

You were starting to be able to discern what was going on. This time, you could hear everyone. Things were much more chaotic, but it was certainly interesting to listen to. You couldn’t remember names, but you managed to figure out the roles each one played.

“Can you come bot? Their jungler is up our asses.” Said their ADC to the man opposite Taleisin; he had to be their jungler.

“I don’t know, can you?”

“That’s…that’s not how that joke works.”

“Please daddy?” Said their support player in a high pitched tone. The only other elf on the team, he had been jokingly flirting with his ADC the whole time. He shifted his attention to hopefully get help.

“Now I’m definitely not doing it, die.”

It was hard not to laugh; you didn’t want to distract them, and Taleisin seemed to be ignoring them. He was doing exceptionally well, to the point where watching his screen was getting a bit boring.

“What the fuck was that?”

You leaned over to get a look at the jungler’s screen next to you. You weren’t sure what he was referring to, but their support seemed rather embarrassed, the others laughing. Someone had attempted a flashy play, and failed miserably.

“We’re not talking about that.”

“No, no I think we should,” he teased.

They had won the first game without much struggle, the group of them getting up to take a break. Taleisin turned back to face you. “Hey, I’m gonna grab something from one of the vending machines real quick. You want anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though,” you smiled.

He stood up, patting your head before walking off.

🔵: imma pull up

🟢: lmao what

You looked through your phone as you waited for him to come back. The support player approached you; he was an elf, but a bit taller and more muscular than Taleisin, a build you didn't see on elves often. “So, what do you think?”

You smiled, trying to be friendly. “It’s fun, I like listening to everyone talk.”

“Oh yeah? Yeah, that one wasn’t too bad, but…sometimes it can get a little intense.”

“Really? You all seem to be pretty close.”

"It’s part of the game, I suppose. You know, you’re not the kind of girl I thought he’d end up with.”

You laughed awkwardly, “what do you mean?”

He shrugged, “well, you know. You’re cute. Plus that and the whole exhibitionism thing, that was definitely out of left field,” he smiled.

You paused, confused. Did you hear him correctly? “What?”

“He made quite a show of you the other day. It was fun, listening to you. Now the question is, does he want to share, or just make other people watch?”

“I…” what was he talking about? Last week? He said they couldn’t hear you, was he wrong? No, it couldn't be that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, there’s no need to be coy.” He got closer, lowering his voice. “I’m sure you got off on knowing everyone was listening to you.”

That’s when you put two and two together. You panicked, rushing out of the room. Your face was flushed, a pit in your stomach forming. Never before had you felt so embarrassed.

You looked for a place to hide. Just like the masterclass, you were so embarrassed you didn’t want to be seen by anyone. You ran into what looked to be a supply closet, locking the door behind you as you sat on the floor.

🧡: where are you? Did something happen?

🩷: what the fuck is wrong with you

🧡: ??? What are you talking about?

————

He had walked back inside, looked around the room, and noticed how quiet everyone was.

“Where’d she go?”

Everyone awkwardly looked at the other elf. No one was particularly subtle.

“I don’t know, we were talking and then she just left,” he shrugged.

He wasn’t amused, something seemed off. “Right, you were talking and then she just left for…no reason?”

"Seems it."

He looked back at his phone, re-reading the messages you had sent him. "No, you're so full of shit, what'd you do?"

“Just talked about what happened last week," he responded casually. "I didn't think you were that kind of guy, but I can see it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Last week, when we all heard you get up and fuck the shit out of her. You don’t remember?”

His expression fell. Now it made perfect sense; you thought he had done it on purpose, that he was trying to make you look like a slut in front of all of his friends. No wonder you were pissed.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, now realizing they weren’t meant to have heard what they did. “That…wasn’t intentional?”

“No! I…” he wasn’t sure what to say. “Fuck, why did you say something to her?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know, I thought it was some weird sex thing!”

“Well, you could’ve, I don’t know, asked before you did that!”

“Yeah, that’s what I was doing!”

“Not really…”

He let out a frustrated sigh, pointing at the man who had flirted with you. “You’re a dick, and you all,” he gestured to the rest of the group, “are fucking stupid.” He pushed the door open and left in a huff.

“Good job dipshit, now we all look like assholes.”

“Yeah, that was…a choice.”

"You could've waited to pull that once the games for the night were actually over. We only have ten more minutes."

"Shit."

----

🧡: okay I figured it out. I'm so sorry. 🧡: I didn't do that on purpose, I swear on my entire life, I had no idea 🧡: but if you don't want to talk to me I get it

You stared back at the cellphone screen. You didn't think he was the type of person to do that. He could've been lying, but...you didn't want to believe it. You figured you'd at least give him a chance to explain himself outside of just over text.

🩷: I'm in the supply closet next to the computer lab

It hadn't even been five minutes when you saw the door open, him standing in the doorway.

"Do you...do you want to get off the floor?"

"Not really," you said softly, holding your legs to your chest.

"That's fine." He awkwardly shifted inside the supply closet, shutting the door and sitting across from you, his legs touching yours. It was hard not to smile, the look of him trying to move his lanky frame within the confined space.

"Well, at least I made you smile," he joked. "But seriously, that wasn't on purpose. I genuinely thought my mic was muted, I wouldn't have...yeah, I wouldn't have done all of that if I didn't."

You looked up at him, "honest?"

He nodded, maintaining eye contact. "I promise."

You sighed; he was a horrible liar, he had to be telling you the truth. In a way, you had started the whole debacle. "I mean, I did crawl under your desk and blow you, so there's that," you shrugged.

"Well yeah, which by the way, that was fucking awesome, but that's different than me like..." he trailed off, trying to find the words to describe the way he degraded and dominated you.

You laughed, "calling me a whore and cumming on my face?" He wasn't trying to joke around, but his clumsy way of handling the conversation made things feel a bit lighter.

"Yeah! I mean, yeah, that. That's a bit more extreme than how we started, I guess."

It was impossible to stay mad at him. You couldn't, he hadn't done anything wrong intentionally. "It's still embarrassing, to be honest."

"Trust me, I understand...they had the same thought you did, that I did it on purpose. That's why Callon came up to you, apparently.

"He asked if you wanted to share, or just wanted people to watch.”

He frowned, grabbing your hand. “Listen, I don’t fuck with that ‘daddy’s kitten’ type shit I think-”

“What do you mean you think?” You laughed as you cut him off.

“I’ll try anything once, but that’s not the point. Point is…” he smiled, “you’re my girl. You’re everything to me. This is probably a really, really, astronomically shitty time to tell you this, but…” he sighed, following his intuition. “Never mind. Point is, I care about you a lot.”

“No, no, say what you were going to say.” You had an idea where his mind was going.

He looked away, his cheeks pink under the dim closet light. “Do you really want the first time I say something like that to be here? In this context?”

“I mean…it would be kinda funny.”

“Well, let me stand up at least,” he stood up before holding his hand out helping you up. You faced each other, the smell of cleaning chemicals filling the air as the fluorescent lightbulb hummed above you. He caressed your face in his hands, pulling you close to him. “I love you. Everything about you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. The way you laugh, the way you look, the way you talk. I love you so much, and all I want is to be yours.”

While the location was far from perfect, you didn’t care. You leaned in and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you too. I’m sorry I got upset-”

“Don’t be. You had every right to be. Do you wanna go home?”

You thought it over before shaking your head. “No. You still have two more games to play.”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll come with you, and we’ll just…pretend it never happened, alright? It’ll only be weird if we make it weird.” You weren’t just reassuring him, but yourself as well.

“You sure?”

You nodded, grabbing his hand. “I’m sure. Now come on, I’m sure they’re waiting on you.”

Gangbang Alt Chapter Ending - Part 8

Introducing four new characters all in one scene was a stupid fucking idea and made me wanna bash my head against the wall .

I don't care if the color coding is cheating the excuse im giving is 'well reader probably wouldnt remember their names right away haha' but ill. figure it out. i thought itd be fun for the reader too and the color coding did make my brain go brrr . i know its bad writing but heehe shapes and colors :)

Also will be writing the alt gangbang ending we had the poll about!! not sure when but it WILL happen

also unrelated but this takes place in the same timeline as my mafia story. just throwing that out there for funsies

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it!

TAGLIST: @sketchlove @madam8 @shimadalluvia @crimsonflameproxy @mimi-sanisanidiot

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - part four - savior complex

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [4.1k] warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

As you pulled away from the kiss, panting, you searched Rafe’s eyes and only found solace in them. Why did this feel so right? Was it the greenhouse or the beauty of the plants surrounding you, the hues of green in the leaves that towered over your figure? Was it the romance or the pouring rain? You couldn’t put your finger on it and then, his blue eyes bore into yours and you could. It was Rafe. It was the man of your dreams kissing you at the college you’d both attend. You’d dreamed about this moment forever, thinking it would never really come and yet, you had your guard up, wondering when things got tough, if he’d run away again. 

“Rafe-” 

He kissed you passionately again, cutting off your words, both hands cradling your cheeks like his life depended on it. You chuckled.

“Rafe..” 

You placed your hands against his chest, pushing him away.

“What is it, sweet girl?” 

His tone was kind. It stung. You wanted him as close as you could get him, his sweet voice replaying over and over again in your ears forever.  

“I-, w-we can’t do this.” 

You stuttered out.

“What do you mean?” 

The hurt washed over his face and you immediately regretted the words that left your lips. 

“I’ve wanted this with you forever and-” 

Your words were cut off by Rafe once more, his pleading eyes, begging you not to let the moment end.

“Then, have it with me. I’m right here.” 

Before your brain could register its next move, the words were spewing out of your mouth at an aggressive volume.

“You have a reputation with girls, okay?” 

You said forcefully.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He asks, accusingly. Though, the hurt laced in his blue eyes makes your chest tight. 

“It means I can’t be another one of your conquests. I can’t be another girl at a party or in your truck or on your lap in a golf cart if you’re not going to care about me next week. I’ve been there before, I can’t do it again.” 

You blurted out without thinking, really. But, you can’t deny the words – you meant them. The truth was, you had been that girl, minus the sex, you’d been his girl and then one day, like whiplash after a car accident, you’d woken up and he was gone. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle that again.  

“Is that what you think of me?” 

His head hung low as he whispered. Before you were able to reply, your thoughts were quickly shoved away when the dinging of your phone erupted from within your backpack that still sat on Rafe’s shoulders. His features softened as yours fell. 

“You feel okay? Is that the tone for your blood sugar?” 

He asks gently. 

“It always does some stupid shit at the worst conceivable time.” 

He could tell you beat yourself about it, your illness. He wondered why, no one could help being sick. Who had made you feel like it was a problem? You looked down at your phone as Rafe handed it to you and realized your blood sugar was fine, you perked up at that. But, mentally cursed at Topper’s contact flashing across your screen. 

“I’m okay, Rafe. Don’t worry. It’s just Top.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile and he returned it. The words from moments ago seemingly forgotten, at least for now. 

“Hello?” 

You asked, clearing the phlegm from your throat. 

“Hey, where are you guys?”

He questioned. 

“We’re in the arboretum.” 

You replied with the hint of a smile. 

“You and that fucking greenhouse, I swear. Okay, well. Let’s get a move on. It’s pouring rain and I’m ready to go home.” 

Topper’s attitude had hurt you more than usual and your smile quickly faltered. 

“O-okay. We’ll be there soon.” 

You spoke into the speaker, trying to keep your voice even as you ended the call. 

“Everything okay?” 

Rafe asked, hesitantly. 

“Yeah, Topper just being Topper. He’s ready to go home because of the rain.” 

You let out a defeated chuckle, eyes tracing to your feet. Rafe had heard what Topper said. You and that fucking greenhouse. Rafe never understood how Topper could be so tone deaf, such a fucking idiot. Why was loving beautiful things so wrong? 

“Okay.” 

Rafe nodded and led you out of the front door of the greenhouse. This time there was no hand on your back or smile from him and you had never craved his warmth so much. There were no words exchanged between the two of you, only your guilt eating away at your core and before you knew it you were back at the Jeep. Rafe didn’t open your door for you and at that revelation, you swallowed thickly and tears lined your eyes. You had ruined your one chance with him. Topper and Kelce were taken aback by the sudden rigidity between you and the Cameron boy, but knew better than to say anything about it. They only assumed the happiness was short lived and you’d go back to hating each other. The car ride was long and agonizing and after two hours of radio silence from Rafe, you were in shambles. So you did what any teenager with no self respect would, you texted him. 

Y: Can we talk? 

R: for what 

Y: i’m sorry 

R: why 

Y: I was mean and you didn’t deserve that, just got scared 

R: scared? Of what? 

Y: you. 

R: why would you be scared of me? 

Y: because I know what kind of hurt your absence can bring. 

He didn’t respond to the last text and you took that as the final nail in the coffin. You had fucked this up. This entire day was perfect until you opened your big fat dumb fucking mouth and now the intimacy, the closeness, the Rafe you had so desperately prayed for was slipping out of your grasp. You could almost cry, but you knew if you started you’d never stop. Brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s gruff voice, you looked to him as he spoke to Topper. 

“Just go to Y/N’s house instead of mine.” 

Your face fell and you started to spiral, he had taken back his dinner invitation and you could no longer hold in your tears, scared he was going to go away again, this time maybe permanently. You simply couldn’t bear that pain again.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” 

Topper questioned, worry lacing his features as he took in the look on your face. 

“Yeah, m’fine.” 

The tone of your voice made the hair on the back of Rafe’s neck stand up. It was flat, in a broken, numb sort of way. He hadn’t heard you use that tone since the night he took Maggie Mills up to his room after a party. He never understood why that had upset you so much. He looked at you, watching as tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes and you stared at the floorboard of Top’s car. You couldn’t feel anything, numbness over taking your body. He placed his hand on your shoulder, begging you to look at him, but your eyes remained locked on the floor. You couldn’t face him, not now, not after you had ruined things with him, again. You were brought away from the sadness by the ding of your phone. It was Rafe, again. 

R: please tell me what’s wrong 

Y: isn’t it obvious 

R: no, please tell me 

Y: you don’t want me at dinner now. You don’t want me.

R: what? 

Rafe began to put two and two together and visibly winced at the fear he had struck within you. 

R: I just wanted you to have fresh clothes. I’m sorry, I should’ve said that. Please don’t cry, pretty girl. I’d never do that to you. 

You didn’t reply to his message, but he looked on as your body slowly began to relax and reached over, wiping the tears from your cheeks and giving you a subtle smile. You returned it. Rafe had always catered to your anxiety, but he hadn’t been around you in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it when it overcame you. Topper pulled into your driveway soon after and you were quick to rush inside, slipping into a new dress, adorned with pale pink lilies, and grabbing extra insulin before making your way back out to the jeep and climbing in next to Rafe. You quickly unzipped the bag that sat in between the two of you and shoved the insulin inside and you looked down at your phone, checking your levels one more time. They were still fairly normal, reading at 85 mg. Rafe looked over your shoulder, making sure your levels were okay and he was pleased when he saw they were. He knew it had been a long time since you’d eaten and you needed real food soon. As the sound of Topper’s brakes bringing the car to a halt met your ears, you locked eyes with Rafe who hopped out of the car almost immediately. 

“Well boys, this was fun. I’ll see you two soon.” 

You say with a false cheek. 

“Bye, beautiful.” 

Kelce muttered, dragging out the “L” on his last word. Topper simply nodded his head in your direction, unsure of what was going on between you and Rafe, but too tired to ask questions. By the time you had said your goodbyes to both boys, Rafe had made his way around to the side of the car and opened your door, helping you out with the grasp of his hand. 

“Thanks, Rafe.” 

You whispered, looking at the ground, still too spooked to look him in the eye. 

“No problem, pretty girl.” 

He smiled in response to your gratitude and the both of you made your way into the house. 

“Rafe, is that you?” 

Rose called to him as you both entered the foyer. 

“Yeah, it’s us.” 

He called back to her. She quickly emerged from the kitchen, meeting you both in the huge room, giving her greetings and ushering you over to the table where you were met with your father’s disapproving eyes. 

“Honey! It’s so good to see you. I was wondering where you were all day.” 

Your mother chimed in, walking over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hi, mama. Yeah, Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and I left early this morning to tour UNC. We made it back just in time for dinner.” 

“That’s wonderful, sweet girl! Did you love it?” 

She questioned. 

“Yes. Rafe took me to the greenhouse.” 

You smiled, but it quickly faded as you looked over at him, remembering the events that followed. He didn’t meet your gaze. 

“Rafe! Thank you, that’s been my girl’s dream for quite some time, being in that greenhouse, with you especially.” 

She smiled brightly in his direction and gave him a wink. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed at your mother’s outburst of too much fucking information. Rafe let out a low chuckle and your brother, Brock, opened his mouth to speak. 

“Hopefully she wasn’t too much trouble for you, today, Rafe.” 

He spoke, his tone demeaning. 

“She’s never any trouble, she’s my best girl.” 

Rafe responded in an even, joking tone, in an attempt to diffuse the situation before his temper got the best of him. His hand made its way to your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When did your brother become such a dick and what gave him the right to speak about you like you weren’t in the room? The subject quickly changed as Rose and Ward began asking you and Rafe about the campus and your majors. 

“So, Y/N, what are you thinking of majoring in?” 

Ward questioned. 

“I’d like to go into English with a minor in entrepreneurship. I’d like to take some business classes, too, I think.” 

You responded. 

“That’s wonderful! Business and English are two things that will help you so much in the working world.” 

He replied, truly excited for you. He’s always been one of your favorite adults. 

“Yeah, thank you! I think so too.” 

You replied with a sweet smile. 

“You know, you could always intern at Cameron Development this summer and get some hands on training with Rafe, Brock, and I.” 

He suggested. 

“Thank you, Ward. I seriously would love that!” 

You smiled his way, unsure if you’d take him up on his offer. It would look good on college applications and it would mean more time with Rafe, those were both good things, right? 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, y/n. I don’t know that you could handle the workload, what with your condition and all.” 

Brock said quickly with a sneer. You cast your eyes immediately down to where your hands sat in your lap. 

“What about you, Rafe?” 

Your mother questioned him, ignoring your brother. It hurt that they oftentimes bowed down to his asshole nature, not wanting to fight with him. Sometimes you just wanted to feel fought for.  

“Dad and I have been talking about me going to business school and running the company eventually.” 

Rafe replied quietly, still unsure he had heard Brock correctly. Because the guy he knew loved his sister, he wouldn’t be treating you like this, especially not in public. 

“Of course! You’re a smart young man, it’s only fitting. You have a bright future ahead of you.” 

She replied with a cheerful tone. 

“Thank you, that means so much coming from you.” 

He replied with a kind smile. He always loved your mother and her sweet words meant the world to him. The familiar beep of your glucose monitor brought your attention away from the conversation and toward your phone in your lap. Rafe watched you intently, reading the levels over your shoulder. 80mg. ‘That can’t be good’, he thought. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

He whispered into your ear and you met his eyes. 

“I’m not feeling good, but I’m fine. I need to eat soon.” 

You responded, reassuring him. Even though you knew your levels were getting dangerously low. 

“How much longer on the food, Rose?” 

Rafe questioned. 

“About 5 minutes.” 

She smiled, letting him know it would be right out. Thirty seconds passed and the alert on your phone beeped loudly once more. You averted your gaze from your brother’s eyes and let out a sigh, but that didn’t stop his mouth from opening. 

“Not this shit again.” 

He spoke, boldly. 

“What did you just say?” 

Rafe’s tone was coated with venom, as he gave your brother a tight lipped smile, urging him to repeat himself, daring him to. 

“I’m just tired of the same shit everyday. She needs sugar, she needs insulin, blah, blah, blah. Everything is always about her.” 

He gritted out. 

“Oh you’re tired of it?! How the fuck do you think she feels?” 

Your father interjected, keeping his voice low, his kind honey-colored eyes becoming dark at Brock’s words. He’s clearly had enough. 

“Well, I’m sorry, this might not be my place. But, I don’t think she’s thrilled about it either and here she is dealing with it. It went off and she sighed, all she did was fucking sigh. She didn’t demand attention from everyone in the room. All she did was fucking sigh and you know what? She’s allowed to do that. She’s allowed to be frustrated about something that is wrong with her body. You could show some fucking compassion.” 

Rafe growled. 

“Rafael Joseph Cameron! Language!” 

Ward spoke Rafe’s full name, his tone laced with warning. 

“What dad?! You can’t let him talk about her like that!” 

He said, exasperatedly. 

“Ward, it’s really okay. He deserves to be bitched at.” 

Your mother spoke, sticking up for Rafe. 

“She’s a type one diabetic, not a fucking drug addict and i’ll be damned if I let you sit here and treat her like one.” 

At Rafe’s words the table fell silent. His father knew what the weight of his words carried, and now, so did you. Luckily for you, Rose served you your food first after the meal was done cooking and your sugar quickly went back up to normal levels, which was a giant relief to Rafe. Most of the dinner was silent after the conversation fizzled out. The words of your father affected you more than you cared to admit, yet not as much as Rafe’s. Rafe stood up for you in a room with two men that scared the shit out of you, all without batting an eye or worrying about a consequence. He stood up to his father for you and you knew you couldn’t just let that go. The conversations quickly became about business and Rafe watched as you mentally checked out, which probed his next question to you.

“Why don’t we go out to the dock, sweet girl?” 

You simply nodded in response, thankful to him for saving you from listening to your brother’s bullshit business plans any longer. Rafe helped you out of your chair and pushed it in behind you, leading you out the patio doors with his large hand placed on the small of your back. You quickly made your way to the dock on the other side of the cool grass, taking your shoes off and plunging your feet in as you sat on the edge of where the wood met the water. 

“You okay?” 

He asked, his cerulean eyes taking in your form. 

“Yeah, I am. Thank you for sticking up for me in there.” 

You gave him your best smile, even though he could see right through it. 

“How long has he been treating you that way?” 

“Since the day I came home from the hospital.” 

You whispered, but Rafe heard you, loud and clear. 

“Can you tell me about it? I mean, what happened when you got sick.” 

You swallowed thickly. Talking about your illness was easy but talking about it with Rafe was just different. He wasn’t there when you got sick and you resented him for it, but you also resented yourself for not giving him the opportunity to be. 

“It happened the Thursday after we stopped talking. I was with Topper, we were at the club, just swinging some golf balls and dicking around. He was with me everyday that week just to make sure I was handling things well and I wasn’t, so I’m glad I had him.” 

You said, with no particular emotion. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He whispered out, hanging his head in shame. 

“You don’t have to apologize Rafe, I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I just-, if I’m gonna tell you what happened, I have to tell the whole story.” 

You replied, trying to reassure him. 

“I know and I want to know everything.” 

He stated with a sheepish smile, nodding his head for you to continue. 

“I told Top I wasn’t feeling good that morning, but I thought it was just because I was hungover and when we went to play golf, I figured I’d be fine. But when we got to the third hole, I noticed that I was kinda nauseous and dizzy and my hands were shaking. I heard Top ask if I was okay before I hit the ground but I couldn’t register anything. Evidently he had called an ambulance because I woke up in the ICU three days later. They said I had a seizure and went into diabetic shock, which is when we found out I had type one.” 

You finished with a swirl of anxiety in your belly. 

“As much as it pains me to say this, I’m thankful you had Top.” 

Rafe smiled into his joke. His distaste for the closeness Topper shared with you had always been prevalent, but especially after the two of you had gone your separate ways. 

“Yeah, the funny thing is, I laid in that hospital bed for days willing myself to call you but I couldn’t do it.” 

You said suddenly. 

“I wish you would have.” 

Your eyes flickered up to meet his immediately. 

“I couldn’t do that to you. You decided you wanted a life without me in it and I respected that even if I didn’t understand it. I never wanted me being sick to be the reason you came back, I wanted you to come back because you wanted to. But it hurt like hell that I had to walk through that without you.” 

Rafe quickly pulled you in and wrapped his large hand around the back of your head, pooling your hair in his hands. He hugged you tightly and suddenly it felt like all the broken pieces of your heart had been mended. 

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Please, forgive me.” 

His voice broke as the words stumbled out of his mouth. He felt like there was no air in his lungs and all he knew was that he needed your forgiveness like he needed to breathe. He pulled back, holding you by your shoulders, looking to your eyes for confirmation of the hatred he was sure you felt for him, yet he couldn’t find it. 

“I forgave you a long time ago, Rafael.” 

You spoke softly, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster up. 

“Y/N, I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you again.” 

He said so sure – more sure of anything than he has ever been in his entire life. 

“I appreciate that Rafe and I hope it’s true. It’s just so hard for me to trust that.” 

You replied candidly. 

“I know and I’m going to work everyday to prove to you that you can trust me.” 

He responded, willing to do anything to prove that to you. 

“I hope you do.” 

He nodded, giving you the reassurance you needed. 

“So, uh, where’d you learn to kiss like that?” 

He asked, sheepishly, as he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck - one of his many nervous habits. His voice came out small and awkward and it made you laugh. 

“I don’t know, Cameron. Where did you learn to kiss like that?” 

Your eyes met, as you nudged his shoulder, which made him smile. 

“Lots of practice.” 

He replied and you visibly winced at the words that you had spoken to him earlier. You have a reputation with girls, okay? The hurt that laced his irises when the words left your lips would haunt you forever. 

“Hey, listen, about what I said earlier-” 

You began, but didn’t get to finish. 

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” 

He replied, his head hanging low. You gently lifted his chin, so his eyes met yours.

“You didn’t, not from me.” 

You said, very matter-of-factly. 

“What do you mean?” 

He asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. 

“I mean, I’ve always been your person – the one you tell anything to. It isn’t fair of me to project my shit onto you, so I’m sorry. That’s not what I think of you, Rafe and I need you to know that. I just got scared.” 

You replied, laying your heart directly in his hands. 

“Why are you so scared, sweet girl?” 

He wasn’t trying to pry, he just genuinely didn’t understand what you had to be afraid of, surely it wasn’t him. 

“I just-, I went through some things with JJ.” 

He nodded, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his brain.

“I see. You know you can talk to me, right? I mean – if you want to tell me, ya know, I’m the guy you tell.” 

He replied, assurance laced in his blue orbs. 

“Yeah, I do and I will when I’m ready.” 

He nodded, taking your answer as gospel. He knew you’d tell him when you were ready. He quickly changed the subject.

“What days are you working this week?” 

He questioned. 

“Uh-, Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday. Why?” 

You asked, confused. 

“Is it okay if I come see you?” 

He questioned, voice sheepish, unable to make eye contact with you in fear of your rejection. That’s what all this has been about to begin with hasn’t it – the years away from you, the fear that he just wasn’t enough. 

“You can always come see me. But, why do you want to hang out at the club?” 

You smiled in his direction, noting how respectful it was for him not to just show up. 

“I am a member, you know?” 

He joked and flush filled your cheeks. Bold of you to assume he'd be there for you, you thought. He must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he grabbed your hand and lifted your chin. 

“I want to spend time with you, silly girl and I can only gain your trust by spending all the time I can with you.” 

You smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Rafe. That’s sweet.” 

You looked in his eyes, thanking him for more than just his sweet words and he had no idea. 

-

You walked into the club at 4pm the next day, spotting Rafe immediately as he sat at the bar, waiting for your inevitable arrival. You were shocked to see him, even though he said he’d come. Truth be told, you hadn’t taken most of what Rafe Cameron said seriously in the last few years, but him showing up meant something to you. It meant more to you than you cared to admit.  After you clocked in and made your way behind the bar, your eyes met his. 

“Well, hey pretty girl.” 

He flashed you that Rafe Cameron smile and it was over. You were done for. 

“Hello, Rafael, to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

You said, smiling back at him. 

“Just wanted to hang out with my girl, that’s all.” 

He replied cheekily. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“She’s working.” 

You retorted, a fun-loving tone soaking your tongue, dispersing from him to check on your tables. You glanced his way a few times, only to be met with eyes studying your form. Your co-worker Emily made her way over to you, noticing his gaze. 

“So, why is Rafe Cameron being a creepy stalker and staring you down like a serial killer?” 

You chuckled, Emily or Em as she was known by her friends, had quite the knack for being dramatic. 

“Em, he is not a serial killer or creepy!” 

You yelped, rolling your eyes at her. 

“Whatever you say, angel. But, I better not see your face on the side of a milk carton any time soon.” 

You jokingly rolled your eyes at her and made your way back to the bar. You wanted to chat with Rafe for a bit while the club was slow, but he was heading out for the night and that stung a little. As he gathered his wallet and keys in his hands, you snuck up behind him, placing your arm at the small of his back. 

“You just gonna leave with no goodbye?” 

You smiled up at him, secretly hoping that wasn’t his intention. His face lit up at the sight of your smiling face beaming up at him and he relished in the feeling of your hand on his back, touching him like this. 

“No way, pretty girl. Never. Dad called and needed me home, something with Sarah.” 

He responded. 

“Okay. Well, be careful.” 

You replied. 

“Always am. You call if you need me to take you home, okay?” 

He asks, but it’s not a question. 

“Okay, Rafael. Be good.” 

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand before letting him go and watching him walk out the front door. The rest of the night drug by, Sundays were usually very busy with Kildare residents playing golf while heavily intoxicated, but most of the traffic died down around dinner time. It was your night to close so you were by yourself after Emily went home at 4 and that meant blasting Taylor Swift while you started closing the club down for the night. You wiped the tables down first, belting out the lyrics to your favorite Taylor song to date I Almost Do. You could remember it having a different meaning when you and Rafe had parted ways, singing it at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, willing yourself to pick up the phone and call him. Now, the words didn’t sting as much and instead, you just wanted to feel his warmth. It was no longer the song of your heart, now it was just another song. Those feelings seemed so far away and you couldn’t help but feel thankful. You were brought out of your thoughts by none other than JJ Maybank busting through the front door of the club and you knew this could only mean disaster. You locked eyes with him and that devilish smirk that he somehow always sported sent chills down your spine. 

“Miss me, angel?” 

He questioned, hiss in his tone. You ignored him, which you knew better than to do. You knew what it would do to him. You knew it drove him absolutely insane, but you did it anyway because it felt good. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” 

His yell echoed through the building and the fear that you remembered so well returned. 

“What, JJ? What do you want?” 

You scoffed. 

“I want your attention, honey.” 

He spoke softer now and you couldn’t help but think wow, what a psycho. 

“Sorry, you’ve lost that privilege.” 

“I haven’t lost anything, darling. Don’t forget who you belong to.” 

His sneer was sinister and you knew what he meant, what he was capable of. As he walked out of the door, tears filled your vision. You wanted so badly to call Rafe but you knew it would only mean disaster. He couldn’t know everything, yet. So, instead you finished closing the club and went home. 

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

as always, if you'd like to be tagged please let me know <3

[venusstsr]

𝘽𝙚𝙩

𝘿𝙧 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙙𝙤𝙣 𝙭 fem 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

"Dr. Langdon has feelings for you and doesn't know how to tell you."

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 soo the last chapter left me in shock but I still like Dr. langdon 😞

I hope you guys like this!!!!

"What do you say? Do you think she will like it?" Frank asks Robby, showing him a necklace while they both change from their work clothes to casual ones.

A pink diamond rests in the center of the gold chain, looking quite expensive.

" as far as I remember, u guys are not a couple, which confuses me quite a bit." Frank sighed heavily.

"Listen, i want to tell her about how i feel every time we go on a date, thats why the collar but damn every time I’m about to do it, nerves get the best of me," Robby looked at him incredulously. "I might seem confident, but her eyes, the way she talks, damn even her perfume makes me nervous."

"You should do it. Collins told me that several doctors are interested in her; and I can't deny it, she's attractive and really good at what she does," Frank sighed again anxiously. "Don't get stuck in the 'what if?' Frank, I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck," the older one patted the blue-eyed guy's back, murmuring a goodbye.

Frank felt a whirlwind of emotions and walked quickly in the direction of the girl where he saw her about to get into her car; his conversation with Robby had stirred his thoughts, and the idea of losing the chance to tell her everything consumed him.

"Wait!" he shouted, his voice resonating with a mix of urgency and determination. The girl stopped and turned to look at him, surprised.

"Frank? What’s wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

With his heart racing a thousand beats per minute, Frank approached her, trying to control his breathing. "I can't keep doing this," he started, feeling that every word was a weight he needed to release. "I've been thinking about you since I met you. Not only you are incredibly attractive, but you're also brilliant at what you do."

The girl looked at him in astonishment, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity. Frank took a deep breath and continued: "I don't want to stay in the 'what if.' I don’t want to lose the chance to be honest with you. I like you; I really like you."

Silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. Frank felt anxiety take over him, wondering if he had done the right thing by risking it this way.

Finally, she smiled softly. "Wow, that was unexpected," she said, her tone light but genuine. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I know, I know," Frank replied, feeling a bit embarrassed by his emotional outburst. "But I couldn’t stay silent any longer."

She stepped a little closer. "Frank, I like you too."

The relief Frank felt was overwhelming. "So...? Would you like to be my girlfriend?" he asked with a mix of hope.

"Yeah" she replied with a bright smile. "I would love to."

Frank felt as if the whole world lit up at that moment. All the fear and anxiety faded away upon hearing those words. " Oh I have something for you." He pulled out the small box with the necklace inside and opened it, instantly seeing how her face lit up and flushed.

"Frank, you shouldn’t have; I don’t think I can take thi—" Frank quickly interrupted her.

"Please take it; I know you'll look beautiful in it." He took it out of the small box. "Turn around." She blushed but complied and turned her back to him while feeling Frank's hands on her neck fastening the necklace.

The atmosphere was filled with electric tension as they looked into each other's eyes as if the world around them faded away. With a gentle movement, he brought his face closer to hers, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Their lips met in a delicate kiss full of promises—a touch that started timidly but quickly transformed into a passionate connection. Frank's hands found their way to her waist as he left small caresses on her.

Leaving little kisses on her lips, they finally separated and leaned their foreheads together enjoying the little moment of peace they had created.

"I told you he'd take the first step." Perlah handed twenty dollars to Princess as they watched the scene from afar.

"Damn! I thought she would get bored waiting and make the first move," Perlah muttered angrily for losing the bet.

"Hey! We still have Robby and Dr. Collins' bet left," Princess reminded her.

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.18-Jude Bellingham

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

Jude couldn’t focus on the training anymore. Every pass, every run seemed like an illusion compared to the worry that was consuming his mind. While his teammates kept playing, he just ran, his heart racing every time he thought of you. Every time he tried to push the thought away, your face appeared in his mind, your trembling voice, and the nausea you had described.

When the training finally ended, Jude quickly headed toward the locker room. His thoughts were all focused on you, eager to return home and find answers. Vinicius, Kylian, and Rodrygo followed him, but seeing his serious expression, they immediately understood the situation wasn’t good.

"Jude, calm down, if there’s anything we can do, we’re here," Kylian said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jude nodded without saying anything, feeling like the world was crashing down on him. "I’m going home," he replied briefly, his gaze fixed on the door as if it was the only way out.

"You’re right," Vinicius added. "Be there for her, especially if something’s wrong."

With a heavy heart, Jude rushed to the car and sped toward home, his mind racing. When he arrived, he didn’t waste any time: he ran to the door and opened it without even pausing.

Meanwhile, you were still in bed, trying to fight the nausea that wouldn’t go away. Every now and then, you looked at your phone, hoping Jude would have replied, but each time your heart beat faster, feeling the anxiety grow. What was happening?

Suddenly, you heard the door open. You looked up and saw him enter, his worried expression and a frown on his face. Without saying a word, Jude walked up to you and wrapped you in his arms.

"Are you feeling sick, love?" he asked softly, visibly relieved to see you but also clearly worried.

You nodded slowly, but you couldn’t hide the uncertainty on your face. "I don’t know... I feel nauseous, and my period is late... I don’t understand what’s going on."

Jude stared at you intently, as if trying to figure out if there was something you weren’t telling him. "You’ve made me so worried," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "But if your period is late, we can... take a test if you want."

His voice was calm, but there was a certain unease in his eyes. You weakly smiled, taking his hand in yours.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, his tone soft but serious. "Everything will be okay. We’re in this together, whatever happens."

And in that moment, despite the pain and the fear of what might come, you felt a warmth. Jude was giving you the courage to face the uncertainty with him by your side, ready to take every step together.

---

You both lay down on your bed, and Jude held you close to him as if the outside world no longer existed. His presence was a refuge, a comfort that made you feel safe despite all the questions spinning in your mind. His hands gently caressed your hair and face, as if he wanted to reassure you that everything would be okay.

His kisses, initially tender, became more affectionate, filled with the passion you had discovered together. You could feel his warm skin against yours, the beat of his heart mingling with yours, as if your hearts had become one.

You couldn't stop smiling, even though the future seemed uncertain. But with him there, holding you, it felt like nothing could go wrong. You looked into his eyes, trying to decipher his emotions, but all you saw was love.

"You make me feel so... safe," you murmured against his lips, which gently brushed against yours.

Jude smiled, gently stroking your hair. "That's all I want. To make you feel safe and love you more than anything else in the world."

You returned his kiss, holding him tighter. You felt that, no matter what happened, he would be by your side. And in that moment, the future seemed less frightening with him next to you.

[n0vazsq]

Romantic homicide | DR3 x Reader

pairing . . . daniel ricciardo x ex!reader

summary . . . Deciding to call Daniel after you two broke up, you never expected to hang up with the possibility of getting back together

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.2k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . why is d4vd so good??? in my d4vd angst era fr fr. HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The rain beat gently against the window, the steady rhythm almost lulling you into a sense of calm. It had been a long week, one of those weeks where time felt like it moved slower, and everything felt like a blur.

The day was dim, the gray sky casting a quiet haze over everything. You sat on your bed, legs tucked under the soft comforter, phone in hand. Daniel's name glowed on the screen, a reminder of something you couldn’t quite shake.

You hadn’t talked in weeks. Months, really. A whole season of races had gone by without a single message exchanged between the two of you.

No texts. No calls. Just silence.

It wasn’t like you were mad. Not really. It wasn’t even that you hated him. It was just that... things had faded. Like the tracks he raced on, slippery, uncertain, fading into the distance.

Your relationship had been one of those summer flings that felt so perfect, so effortless, in the beginning. The kind that starts in the heat of the moment and then, before you know it, slips away with the change of seasons.

You’d spent those days wrapped up in him. His laughter, his presence, his passion for racing. It had all felt so real. So natural. But time has a way of wearing things down, of shifting priorities, and in the end, that’s all it was. Just a memory.

Still, you couldn’t forget it. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe it was a mistake to hold on to the ghost of something that was never going to happen again.

But even with the fading memories and the lingering pain, you missed him. You missed the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his next race, the way he’d laugh at the stupidest jokes, and how everything felt right when he was near.

You stared at the phone in your hands. You should’ve deleted his contact by now. Should’ve let it go. But you hadn’t.

You could hear his voice in your head, his teasing tone, the way he always said, "You think too much, you know that?".

And maybe you did. Maybe you thought about him too much. Maybe that was your downfall. But there was something about him, something about his presence, that made you feel like you could just let go. Like you could trust him. If only...

You took a deep breath, glancing out the window. The rain was starting to slow down, leaving behind the smell of wet concrete and fresh air. You could feel your pulse quicken, your heart racing a little faster than it should. You hadn’t planned on reaching out, but somehow, the weight of silence had become unbearable.

You unlocked your phone, fingers hovering over the screen. The message you had typed out earlier in the week was still sitting there, unsent. It was simple. Just a few words. "Hey, how have you been?".

But every time you went to send it, something stopped you. Something held you back.

And now here you were again, caught in the same cycle of hesitation. Should you send it? Should you not?

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, snapping you from your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flash on the screen.

Danny Ric.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. You could answer. You could see what he had to say. You could ignore the creeping anxiety that gnawed at you, telling you to let him be.

Maybe he’s just checking in, you thought. Maybe it’s just a casual thing.

You tapped the green icon before you could second guess yourself.

The phone clicked, and the line rang. You braced yourself for the familiar voice, for the warmth you hadn’t heard in so long.

"Hello?" His voice was a little breathless, as if he’d just gotten out of a car or off a plane. But it was still him.

Daniel.

The man whose name you’d been saying in your head for weeks, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

"Hi," you said, your voice sounding a little shaky, like you hadn’t used it in forever. Why am I so nervous?

"Hey, it’s been a while," he said, and there was a hint of surprise in his tone, but also a trace of something else. Something softer, almost nostalgic. "How are you?"

Your mouth went dry as you thought about the answer. You could say 'fine' or 'good'.

You could lie. You could say the last few months hadn’t been difficult, that you hadn’t thought about him every single day.

But you knew that wasn’t the truth. And if there was one thing you’d always been good at, it was being honest. At least with him.

"I’ve been okay," you said, the words coming out slow and measured. "Just… thinking about things."

"Yeah? What kind of things?" His voice was gentle, like he was trying to find his way back into your world.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing. "Us. I guess. Everything that happened, and why it ended the way it did."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick. You could hear the faint hum of his breath on the other end of the line, the absence of words filling the space between you both.

Finally, Daniel spoke again, his voice quieter now. "I didn’t want it to end like that. You know that, right? It wasn’t easy."

"I know," you said softly. "But distance... racing... it just... you were always gone. I couldn’t keep waiting for something that wasn’t there anymore."

There was another long pause. You could hear the sound of a car in the background. Maybe he was in his hotel room, or on the move again.

"I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "But I think I did anyway."

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. The truth was always a little harder to swallow, but it felt real, at least. Like maybe you both hadn’t given up just yet.

You opened your eyes, staring out the window again. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving the air crisp and clear. But the world still felt unsettled.

You couldn’t undo the past, but maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward.

"Do you think we could try again?" You whispered, before you even realized you’d said it out loud.

The pause that followed felt like an eternity. Then, softly, Daniel’s voice came through, full of hesitation and hope. "I don’t know, but maybe we can try... talking again. See where it goes."

You smiled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"Yeah," you murmured, "Let's see where it goes."

[anika-ann]

made-up fic title: ever so softly

Hello dear 🥰 Thank you so much for participating in the game 😍

Since my brain does refuse to acknolwdge the concept so far, you too get a little drabble-ish thing 🥹 This time only with 600 words, Bucky, and a flavour of angst with hurt/comfort 😇

ever so softly

warnings: mentions of blood and violence, anxiety, sensory issues and hypersensitivity and PTSD A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics

Sometimes, your hands shake.

You’ve got a tender heart, people would say; a codename for those who get overwhelmed with the world, with people, with the noise and smells and strange textures and tastes, with emotions; with anxiety.

Your own body, your own damn brain was often your worst enemy. You were your worst enemy and you hated it with passion, especially on days when you somehow had no energy left but for that and spiralling down the void of terror made of your own synapses.

On days like these, like on every other, Bucky holds you, whispering soft words of solace and encouragement into your hair, tender lips and gentle voice, creating a protective bubble of silence and peace, tucked safe and far away from the world.

On days like these, he embraces you closely – unless you cannot bear his love for the moment, despising yourself for it all the more – and helps you put together the pieces of your tender soul you feel have imploded inside of you and suffocate you with every attempt of breath.

He sooths you and promises – begs, in truth – to keep you. Loving you,

ever so softly,

reminding you that you can choose and do the same and until you do, he will. For both of you.

And on some days, you do too.

Sometimes, Bucky’s hands shake.

It is a funny little glitch, he supposes, once he has the capacity to be sardonic with himself, which is always; his metal hand, science perfected, precious chunk of vibranium crafted to faultless functionality on engineerism, and it trembles as much as his flesh hand.

Bucky Barnes is an old man; a reborn man, haunted by an army of ghosts and undead. Doctors in his old days called it shellshock; the fancy modern name for it is PTSD.

Some days, images of blood, violence and death run on the silver screen of his mind like the most messed-up horror flick, following him through day and seeping into his nights, sleepless; or worst, consumed by nightmares than never end, because they are memories of his own actions.

His soul weighs too much to bear, drenched with blood and guilt that no penance can wash away.

Sometimes, you help with the cleanse despite it.

You take his shaking hands – sometimes his very own, sometimes the glorified invention attached to his body – and lead him to the living room where on the shelves stand his little treasures; one supposedly beautiful thing next to another, small wooden statues he had carved himself, rough around the edges but otherwise delicate, a reflection of his gentle torn soul. You do not speak a word, you do no point, letting him see what you see. To make him see that what he only perceives as a pair of hands soaked in blood and wrongdoings, had made good and beautiful too.

And even in the dead of night, you walk him to the most special room of the house, of your home, his steps hesitant, but his heart too weak to resist. Helpless and already yearning, he can never say no.

In those no longer trembling hands, you gently place the most precious thing he has had a generous hand in creating, with utmost love.

Tears burning in his eyes, he cradles your baby, his baby, to his chest with one arm, his other curling around you, pressing you to his side, lips attached to your temple. You linger in your embrace until his tears of grief and guilt turn into ones of acceptance and happiness.

Because he loves and he is loved,

ever so softly

and every beat of his heart, your heart and his child’s, promise him that despite all the pain, everything will be okay.

I hope you enjoyed the little angst but with a sweet note in the end for a change🥰

Thank you for reading and @murdock-and-the-sea for sending 💕

[thebadboyfanclub]

What Would I Do Without You? (Lewis x Reader)

Hey y’all so I’m slowly getting my groove back and I am very thankful that you guys have been so wonderful and patient with me, this was requested by @jenthustiastic and i must say I switched a few stuff but I hope you can forgive me and still enjoy it.

To be the partner of Lewis Hamilton meant to have a spotlight on you 24/7, eyes like hawks watching and judging every move, however (y/n) had this peculiar ability that made it look like a walk in the park.

From the minute Lewis posted her on Instagram and made it official meant that he had sent the dogs that were ready to tear her down, (y/n) took everything with grace and remained authentic to herself, Lewis was nervous about causing (y/n) pain, he knew that some people were ruthless, he feared that it would get too much for her, she was relatively in the spotlight, being a stylist and all yet this meant she was dipping her toes to another ball game.

(Y/n) never complained nor seemed to be phased by the comments or paparazzi, she was a social butterfly and quickly earned the respect of the fans, especially since she had grown a habit of meeting them and taking their little gifts with them to show Lewis after his race, “the fans princess” is what they called her that had started as a joke and then kind of stuck.

“Where’s the lovely (y/n)?”

Had grown to become a frequent question from the reporters when they got a hold of Lewis, Lewis would always bite his bottom lip and slightly nod before his eyes started to scan the room for the lady.

“I’m here baby!”

“Oh there she is”

(Y/n) did not like to watch the games, it caused her anxiety to see her beloved man sit in a car that went faster than the speed of light, her heart beat like a drum and every sharp turn forced her breath to hitch, she was content with hiding in the crowds and spark conversations with the fans until it was over.

“Don’t you care if I do well?”

“I care if you come back to me in one piece, that is enough for me”

She responded calmly once before she got lost in his arms, their naked chests colliding with one another as her head found its place at the crook of his neck, Lewis giggled as her hair fell on his face, and with his free hand, he caressed the strands away.

(Y/n) was scared, the track had taken men’s lives for the longest and (y/n) who was a massive fan of racing was now linked to her lover which meant that she found the concept similar to torture.

Lewis slowly got used to her routine, after the interviews, they would go to a room, and (y/n) would spend about 30 minutes to an hour just laying with him, well… at least for the majority of the time, (y/n) still blushed at the memory of toto having to knock their door.

“Keep it down! People can hear you!”

He scolded them, Lewis and (y/n) had giggled at the time still when the adrenaline wore off and she had to walk out with smudged makeup and her hair down instead of the tidy ponytail she had walked in with she clung and almost hid behind Lewis until they got to the car.

“We are never doing this again”

“Sure love”

Lewis had responded, knowing well inside that (y/n) was just experiencing the guilt of the moment, Lewis relished that he got to tease parts out of her that she did not know existed.

(Y/n) and Lewis were both fire holders, passion brought them together and the minute one even graced a finger on the other's skin it resembled a match lighting up, the one held the other as close as humanly possible and their eyes would speak the dirty words that they could not publicly even whisper even though Lewis was not one to shy away from leaning against her ear while she giggled after she had a bit too much wine at the dinner table.

“(Y/n)! Hi”

“Can you take this for Lewis?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Can I have a picture?”

“Are you excited?”

Fans stumbled upon one another as (y/n) started to approach them with a grant smile, the Qatar Grand Prix was one of the most challenging among them, Lewis was nervous which caused (y/n) to be a bit wary, so she was always worked, walked up to the fans to take her mind off the track and hopefully time would pass fast.

This time it was different and as soon as her ears got used to the voices everyone went silent then her heart clenched inside her chest, her eyes snapped to where everyone was looking and she was met with a car that looked familiar spin out.

“No”

(Y/n) whispered, this couldn’t be, her hands mashed into fists and thankfully one of the bodyguards that Lewis had hired to keep an eye on her sensed that this would not go well, she had to be taken out of the public grasp.

The man’s arms softly went up to her biceps before he guided her back to the room so she could wait for her love, though her mind would not let her rest and she feared for the worst.

“Is he ok? Do we know if he is ok?”

“Sir Lewis is fine miss, please let us escort you”

(Y/n) complied and the only thing that could be heard were her footsteps until she got inside the room they had told her to wait on, her heels clicking on the floor as she went up and down the room, even if he was alright to be taken out so quickly was not the outcome anyone would have hopped.

The sound of the doorknob twisting forced her to a halt and then before Lewis could walk inside fully (y/n) had thrown herself in his arms, Lewis even if he was taken aback by it and took a step back responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and closing the door behind him.

“You are safe”

“I hope I didn’t scare you a lot”

“No, no, no, I’m fine, I just- what happened?”

“Russel didn’t let me pass him, he took me out”

“Took you out? How?”

“He-“

Lewis stopped himself from getting riled up, he closed his eyes to take a sharp inhale through the nose and then slowly let it out from his mouth, his grip semi-loosened on her and his one hand went up to take the hair out of her face that were misplaced from the force of her running into him full force.

“It doesn’t matter”

“yes it does, talk to me”

A smile appeared on his lips, he took her by her hand and directed her to the couch, (y/n) had always been a person to show love via physical touch, so when she straddled him Lewis did not think of it even for a second, (y/n) placed her cheek on his shoulder and Lewis thought it would be better if he leaned back so he was propped up with the support of the couch.

“It was the first round, I went to get the lead from the side, and then… I was out because Rusell-“

“I’m going to ask you this… are you sure it was his fault?”

“Yes, he should have let me through”

“What if he couldn’t? First rounds are crowded baby, perhaps he didn’t mean it”

“I am-“

“Unharmed, and you have already proved yourself and how skilled you are, Russel is young and your teammate”

“So that gives him immunity into doing whatever?”

“He drove himself into a wall if you recall, remember how embarrassed and disappointed he was?”

“Yes when only you came to see me on the paddock because everyone was consoling him”

(Y/n) lifted her head to be able to look him straight in the eyes, Lewis was feeling threatened, Russell had potential and he was breathing down Lewis's neck, she could detect the certain sense of failure in his chocolate hues.

Lewis scoffed as he lifted her as gently as possible so he could stand up and away from her, Lewis had years of experience on his back, yet when it came to (y/n) he felt powerless, she hadn’t even tried hard enough and he had revealed everything to her.

(Y/n) only followed him and slightly tugged at his hand so he could turn to face her again, a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips after she raised her hand to caress his cheek, Lewis exhaled as his shoulders relaxed once her warm flesh covered his.

“You can’t hide from me, you know better than that”

“I wanted to do well alright, is that so bad?”

“No, that is healthy, but we both know you can get competitive sometimes, give him some grace, you were in his shoes once”

“You should be on my side”

“You did not ask me to be yours because I was a kiss ass”

“No, smart mouth”

“All that I’m saying is that I care that you are here with me, however, it would not be right if I sat here and caress your pride and let you be wrong, is that what you want?”

“No”

“Good”

(Y/n) placed a sweet kiss on his lips that escalated into a butterfly one, her arms snaked around Lewis’s neck while he slid down from her waist and grabbed onto her tightly.

A playful giggle was heard by her before she pulled away a few inches so she could wipe the grace of lip gloss she had left on his lips with her thumb.

“Naughty boy”

“Always”

“No, we are not doing this it’s too damn hot in here”

“We will blast the air condition in the car after”

“I am not sweating out this makeup Hamilton and you have some making-up to do”

“Now?”

“Well I am assuming he is still racing but yes, we will wait together and you will own your mistakes”

“Must you always go against me?”

“Must you always be so difficult?”

Lewis kissed his teeth at her comeback, (y/n) had become Lewis’s lighthouse at a fast pace, she was a person he would seek every time something would not sit right with him, her hug, her wisdom, her smile of reassurance, her addicting scent as she wrapped herself around him at night.

Something about her soothed him to the core to the point that he could not rest well if she was not laying next to him(y/n) was his second in command and he secretly admired her calm attitude.

Lewis would often think about the times (y/n) would reminisce over her past self, how she was hot-tempered and argumentative, she had confessed that it was a facade she had created like an alter ego to protect her true colors, and there had been a few moments that he had witnessed her eyes glistening with anger, her slick tongue, it was usually when she felt threatened or people crossed someone she loved.

“What would I do without you?”

“Just argue with people for no reason I presume”

“You are being mean”

“Would you rather I lie to you?”

Lewis's smile brightened the room and his face and (y/n) pulled him for a tight embrace, she wondered if there was any way she could get even closer to him like the water of the ocean sank in the sand after a wave, his heartbeat was the most melodic sound for her ears, well, after his voice of course.

(Y/n) had always been a dreamer, from a young age she had filled her heart with hope to find her soulmate, someone to share her light and darkness, that one person that would feel like her fuzzy blanket, friends called her delusional and precious relationships called her suffocating and emotional, Lewis relished it, the small little details that showed how grand her soul and love was.

“There will be other races”

“I know”

“Do you want to speak on this some more”

“Not really”

“Alright, let’s go find George and then we can have a nice bubble bath, perhaps some lavender oil will help”

“Oh I love it when you talk essential oils to me”

Requests are open!

[estapa-edwards]

"MOMMY?" - Q. HUGHES

paring: Quinn Hughes x fem! reader

word count:2.2k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

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There he was, Quinn Hughes, dominating the ice with his incredible skill and agility. Memories of our college days flooded back, bringing a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. It had been years since we'd last seen each other, and seeing him again in this setting was both surprising and overwhelming.

I had always admired Quinn's dedication and passion for the game. Back in college, he was the star player, and it was no surprise to see him excelling in his professional career. But as I glanced at him from my seat in the stands, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Quinn didn’t know about our son, and I had always intended to keep it that way.

Sitting beside me was Ethan, our 4-year-old son. His bright eyes were fixed on the game, completely engrossed in the action on the ice. I had always known that he had inherited Quinn's love for hockey, but I had done my best to shield him from the truth about his father.

As the game progressed, I couldn't help but steal glances at Quinn. His intensity on the ice was matched only by the determination in his eyes. But what caught my attention the most was the way he occasionally looked at Ethan, a hint of curiosity and recognition in his gaze.

The resemblance between Ethan and Quinn was undeniable. From the shape of their eyes to the curve of their smile, there was no denying the bond they shared. And as the thought crossed my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if Quinn had started to piece together the puzzle.

I felt a pang of guilt as I thought about keeping the truth from him. But I had my reasons, and I believed it was for the best. Our lives had taken different paths since college, and I didn't want to disrupt Quinn's successful career with the revelation of a child he never knew he had.

Throughout the game, I tried to maintain a sense of normalcy, cheering for the Canucks and sharing in Ethan's excitement. But every time I looked at Quinn, the weight of our shared secret hung heavily between us.

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As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, I started to gather my belongings, preparing to leave before Quinn could approach me. But fate had other plans.

"Y/n?" I heard Quinn's voice call out, and my heart skipped a beat.

I turned to see him approaching, his eyes filled with surprise and curiosity. I knew I couldn’t avoid him any longer.

"Quinn, hi," I managed to say, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looked at me with a mixture of excitement and confusion. "I didn't expect to see you here," he said.

"Yeah, it was a last-minute decision to come to the game," I replied, trying to sound casual.

As we exchanged pleasantries, I could sense Quinn's curiosity about Ethan. I knew it was only a matter of time before he started asking questions.

"Mommy?" Ethan tugged at my sleeve, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked down at him, trying to hide my anxiety. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Who is he?" Ethan asked, his innocent eyes glancing up at Quinn.

Quinn looked from Ethan to me, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Is this your son, Y/n?"

I hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. I knew I couldn’t avoid the truth any longer.

"Yes, Quinn," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's my son, almost 5 years old."

Quinn paused, his eyes widening as he processed the information. I could see him doing the math in his head, his gaze shifting between Ethan and me.

"Is he mine?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Yes, Quinn, he is."

The weight of the revelation hung heavily between us, the tension palpable. I could see the shock and disbelief in Quinn's eyes, but there was also a glimmer of curiosity and warmth as he looked at Ethan.

"I can't believe you kept this from me, Y/n," Quinn said, his voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

"I know, Quinn," I replied, tears welling up in my eyes."Can we talk somewhere more private?"

Quinn looked at me, his gaze softening slightly. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice gentler now. "Let's find somewhere quiet to talk."

We quickly made our way out of the bustling stadium, searching for a more secluded spot where we could have a candid conversation. I held Ethan's hand tightly, sensing his confusion and anxiety but also feeling a renewed hope for our future as a family.

We found a quiet corner outside the stadium, away from the prying eyes and curious stares of the crowd. The city lights twinkled in the distance, providing a soft glow as we settled into a more private setting.

Quinn took a deep breath, looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and determination. "I need to know everything, Y/n," he said, his voice firm but caring. "How did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain the complex situation. "It was during our sophomore year of college," I began, my voice shaky. "We had that one night together, and I found out I was pregnant shortly after. I was scared and overwhelmed, and I didn't know how to tell you. I thought it would be best to handle it on my own."

Quinn looked at me, his eyes filled with regret. "I wish you had told me, Y/n. I would have been there for you."

"I know, Quinn," I said, tears streaming down my face. "I should have told you, but I was afraid. Afraid of your reaction, afraid of how it would affect your career, and afraid of the unknown. I thought I was protecting Ethan, but I realize now that I was also denying you the chance to know your son."

Quinn reached out, gently wiping away my tears. "It's okay, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We can't change the past, but we can focus on the future and what's best for Ethan."

I looked up at Quinn, feeling a renewed sense of hope and gratitude. "Thank you, Quinn," I said, my voice choked with emotion. "I want you to be a part of Ethan's life, and I know he would love to get to know his father."

Quinn smiled, his eyes shining with tears. "I want that too, Y/n," he said, pulling me into a comforting embrace. "I promise to be there for Ethan and to make up for lost time."I felt a sense of relief wash over me, grateful for Quinn's commitment and willingness to be a part of Ethan's life. As we continued to hold each other, Quinn pulled away slightly, looking down at Ethan who was patiently waiting beside us.

"Do you think I could bring him to meet my parents soon?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.

I looked at Ethan, who was looking up at Quinn with curious eyes, and then back at Quinn. "Of course," I replied, a small smile forming on my lips. "I think that would be a wonderful idea. It's important for Ethan to know his grandparents and for them to be a part of his life as well."

Quinn's face lit up with joy, grateful for the opportunity to introduce Ethan to his family. "Thank you, Y/n," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I want them to know about Ethan and to be a part of his life. I want to give him a sense of family and belonging."

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The day had finally arrived for Ethan to meet Quinn's parents and siblings. I was nervous but hopeful, believing that this would be a positive step for our newfound family. Quinn had assured me that his family would be supportive, but the anticipation of the meeting still weighed heavily on my mind.

We arrived at Quinn's parents' house, a beautiful two-story home surrounded by a well-manicured lawn and vibrant garden. Quinn held Ethan's hand tightly, offering reassurance as we approached the front door. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as Quinn rang the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal Ellen, Quinn's mother, with a warm smile on her face. "Quinn! Y/n!" she exclaimed, pulling us both into a welcoming embrace. "It's so good to see you!"

"Hi, Mom," Quinn greeted, returning the hug. "This is Ethan," he added, gesturing to our son who was standing nervously beside us.

Ellen knelt down to Ethan's level, her eyes filled with kindness. "Hello, Ethan," she said gently. "I've heard so much about you. It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Ethan looked up at Ellen, a shy smile forming on his face. "Nice to meet you too, Grandma," he replied softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ellen's smile widened as she stood up, inviting us inside. "Come in, come in," she said warmly. "Everyone's been looking forward to meeting you."

As we entered the living room, we were greeted by Jim, Quinn's father, who welcomed us with a hearty handshake and a friendly pat on the back. "Quinn, Y/n, it's great to see you," he said, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "And this must be Ethan," he added, kneeling down to Ethan's level. "Welcome to the family, young man."

Ethan smiled, feeling more at ease with Jim's friendly demeanor. "Thank you, Grandpa," he replied, his nervousness starting to fade.

Quinn's siblings, Jack and Luke, soon joined us, offering their own warm greetings and making Ethan feel included and accepted. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and conversation as we all gathered in the living room, getting to know each other and sharing stories and memories.

As the afternoon progressed, I watched Quinn interact with his family, seeing the love and acceptance in their eyes as they welcomed Ethan into their lives. It was a heartwarming sight, and I felt a sense of gratitude and relief knowing that our decision to share this part of our lives with Quinn's family was the right one.

As we prepared to leave, Ellen pulled me aside, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. "Y/n, I want you to know that we support you and Ethan," she said softly. "We're so grateful to have him in our lives, and we're here for you both."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thanked Ellen for her kindness and support, feeling a renewed sense of hope and optimism for our future as a family.

As we said our goodbyes and left Quinn's parents' house, I felt a profound sense of gratitude and relief. The meeting had been a success, and I knew that we were one step closer to building a united and loving family for Ethan.

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Several years had passed since Quinn and I reconnected at that fateful hockey game. Our relationship had blossomed, and we had worked hard to build a strong and loving family for Ethan. The bond between us had grown deeper, and it was clear that we were meant to be together.

One evening, Quinn suggested that we go out for a special dinner to celebrate our anniversary. He had made reservations at a cozy and romantic restaurant overlooking the city skyline. As we sat down at our table, I couldn’t help but notice the nervous excitement in Quinn’s eyes.

Throughout the evening, we reminisced about our journey together, reflecting on the challenges we had overcome and the love we had shared. It was a beautiful and heartfelt conversation, filled with laughter and tears as we celebrated our love and commitment to each other.

As dinner came to an end, Quinn took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My heart skipped a beat as he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring.

"Y/n, these past few years with you have been the happiest of my life," Quinn began, his voice trembling with emotion. "You've given me so much love, support, and happiness, and I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else."

He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, "I love you more than words can express, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me?"

Tears filled my eyes as I looked at Quinn, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. "Yes, Quinn," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion. "I will marry you."

The restaurant erupted in applause as Quinn slipped the ring onto my finger, sealing our commitment to each other and our family. It was a magical and unforgettable moment, filled with love, joy, and the promise of a bright and happy future together.

As we left the restaurant, hand in hand, I felt a profound sense of happiness and contentment. Our journey together had been filled with ups and downs, but through it all, our love had remained strong and unwavering.

[pinkcutiepiee]

First Kiss with TASM!Peter Parker💌

Day 4 of 5 of my Valentines Writing Event💌 || Masterlist🍓

Warnings; fluff, friends to lovers, all characters written as 20+ let me know if i forgot anything!

[a/n]; cant lie, the ending isn't great... I wasn't sure how to end it. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy!!!

Although you had only been together officially for about 2 and a half weeks, Peter felt like he had been waiting for this moment forever. His heart was pounding so hard, he was expecting it to beat out of his chest at any given second.

Returning from your first official date, he walks you home. He holds your hand in his, hoping his hands aren’t overly clammy. He knew this would be the perfect time for your first kiss; the perfect ending to a perfect date. He also knew his brain would not stop overthinking it. What if you didn’t want to kiss him? What if you realised that you didn’t love him the way he loved you? What if this ruined your almost lifelong friendship?

“What’s wrong, love?” You ask, like you were able to read his mind and understand his anxieties. The concern in your voice convinces him that, whether or not you could read his mind, the first date you just shared had gone successfully in your eyes, as well as his. He smiles down at you softly, as he confirms that everything is okay. Everything is going perfectly, he thinks. To him, nothing could possibly go wrong when he was with you. You made everything okay.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” you smile when you get to your front door. He knew you were too smart to see through him. To believe that nothing was truly bothering him. Chuckling softly, he closes the gap between you both as his pulse quickened, and heat rose to his cheeks. His lips are soft, and warm, despite the chill in the air. He tastes of mint, and something slightly musky that you cannot quite place - but you know that the combination creates your favourite taste. Something that can only be described as uniquely Peter. 

As the kiss becomes more passionate, but still remains slow, Peter feels the weights of all worries and anxieties; about being Spider-Man, about not messing this new relationship up with the one person he cares so dearly for, amongst other anxieties. At this moment, none of that mattered. All he could focus on was your soft lips, and the way you grabbed onto his hoodie to pull him closer.

He finds himself chasing after your lips when you pull away, both of you smiling. His lips are swollen from the kiss, yet he craves more. As you look up into his brown eyes, the love and affection showing in them mirrors yours, he knows that this is the start of the most perfect relationship. With the most perfect person, in his eyes.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not ready to let go just yet; “I assume that’s a yes,” you smile. 

Peter returns the smile as he chuckles softly, “yeah,” he whispers, heart still racing, and wanting desperately to kiss you again, “And for the record, I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”“Me too,” you say before reconnecting your lips with his for another kiss. I’ll never get tired of this, you both think.

[feuillesss]

how is the other riize members seeing seunghan's situation? are they planning something too?

How The Other RIIZE Members Feel About The Situation

***DISCLAIMER***

I do not know these idols personally! This is just my interpretation of the cards that I pulled, please take this reading with a grain of salt. For entertainment purposes only.

( day/month/year - 12/11/24 )

How do the other Riize Members feel?

Wonbin: (Death/TheWorld/2pentrev)

He wanted to go first, his energy was very open with this, though he didn't have much to say. It seems like Wonbin saw this as a period in time where a lot was changing, he was struggling to accept these changes and put them into action. He feels hopeful that after this situation, they can make a new beginning for themselves, there's a lot of hope here. There's some anxiety for the future, like will he be able to achieve his dreams and his goals. He's been feeling overwhelmed and exhausted by this situation, there's a lot to work through, a lot on his plate.

Shotaro: (7ow/10os/Kiow)

This situation has made Shotaro more determined to fight for what he wants, I get the feeling that he admires the effort that people are putting into this, the way they're standing their ground. He's working extra hard to maintain Riize's position and success as a group. "There's nowhere to go but up." is what I got from this. He really feels like they have nothing to lose, this is making him bolder, more stubborn and assertive. I think this situation hit Shotaro pretty hard, and it's been an exhausting period of time mentally, physically and emotionally. There was hopelessness, like his hands were tied, he didn't have a say in anything. He's being very bold now, a lot bolder than he was, like I said, he doesn't think they have anything to lose, so he thinks why shouldn't he be? He's looking at the big picture, he has a vision of what he wants Riize to be and he's taking the steps to achieve that. He feels like they're at the end of a long, difficult journey, their hard work is about to pay off, good things are around the corner. There optimism here, Shotaro's got a plan, and he's implementing it.

Sohee: (8pent/6ow/4ocrev)

Sohee believes that Riize will come back stronger after this situation. He's been throwing himself into his work, practicing his skills and really focusing on bettering himself. With the four of cups, I got such a strong feeling that it's toward Seunghan, 'get up, stop moping, work hard and come back'. I feel like Sohee was encouraging Seunghan a lot during this period. This situation maybe made Sohee realise the bad sides of being an idol, it broke his illusion in a sense. He felt like his life and career were turned upside out, just a general period of chaos and uncertainty. The six of wands was a little difficult to interpret since it came out sideways, but I got the feeling that he receives a lot of praise, like he should be feeling confident and happy and proud about everything, but he doesn't?

Eunseok: (Kiocrev/8oc/10os)

I think Eunseok was really being hard on himself during this period, like beating himself up over his mistakes or something. This affected Eunseok a lot, he really bottled up his feelings and withdrew into himself. I think he was just creating a lot of distance between him and the fans, there was a lot of pressure there. like pressure of making a mistake? He's very frustrated, like his heart's not in it anymore, he lost a lot of his passion for being an idol. He felt like people were being overdramatic and doing too much over Seunghans scandal.

Anton: (Kiocrev/6ocrev/6osrev)

Okay, I got all reversed cards in this reading, so I think Anton was one of the members that was more affected by this. I think Anton also lost a lot of his motivation and passion for being an idol, this situation made him realise the bad parts of being an idol. Like Eunseok, he thought people did too much about the scandal, and did too much with the funeral flowers. There's a general sense of annoyance, he's just done. He could be being colder towards people, and just a general moodiness and anxiety. He seems to be holding onto the past, missing how things used to be. He's realising that being an idol isn't all it's made up to be, not what he thought it would be like. The rose coloured glasses are coming off, and he's seeing it for what it really is. He feels like they have unfinished business, he does not want to move forward without Seunghan. He feels like they were forced into this situation, they had no say or control, he's resisting this change and is pretty annoyed by it.

Sungchan: (TheEmpress/2osrev/2oc/5osrev)

I think Sungchan is feeling hopeful! I got a huge optimistic vibe, he's looking forward to the future. I definitely think Sungchan was also encouraging Seunghan to come back during this time, he seems very in touch with his feminine, nurturing side. He feels like they've reached a stalemate, likely referring to this current situation with the boycott. They can't move forward, and they can't move back, neither party is giving up. He believes that they can only put this decision off for so long, eventually they will have to make it, I'm interpreting this in regards to SM's decision on whether they will bring Seunghan back; since in my reading of whether we would hear anything soon, I got that they were still deciding. I'm kind of getting the vibe of like, 'can't please everyone', and it's creating this stalemate of who they will choose to please. He's very confused about this, there's a lot of anxiety here, he knows there will be negative consequences either way. They're stuck between a rock and a hard place. He feels like now is the time to take action, to stop being passive and make moves.

Are they planning something?: (Kiofwa/Kiopent/2ow)

They're definitely stepping up right now, being bold. A huge theme that I got when doing this reading was their boldness, they won't be complicit. I definitely feel like they're working behind the scenes as well. They want Seunghan back, they want to be 7, that's clear. 2 of wands is all about planning, they're taking risks and working out what they want and how to get it. There's a lot of determination here as well, they won't stop until they reach their goal.

Are they going against the company?: (Knioc/3oc)

They're being very diplomatic right now, they're all planning and discussing, though it seems to be a positive environment. I'm just getting a vibe of optimism and positivity, a celebration, I think it's a good sign, I'm lowkey excited guys.

[poisonlove]

A macchiato, please | j.o

part 1

I'm finally home, wrapped in the familiar atmosphere only my apartment can provide. Tex, my affectionate German Shepherd, is my sole company at the moment.

"Hello, sweetheart," I whisper gently, bending down to pet his head as his tail wags happily, displaying pure joy.

"I know... you're hungry," I confirm with a resigned sigh, heading to the kitchen. I open a can of dog food and mix it carefully with the kibbles.

"Enjoy your meal!" I add with a shy smile as Tex starts to happily devour his food.

I toss the keys onto the table.

I was so tired that I decided to skip my usual nightly routine and went straight to bed. I fall onto the soft mattress, exhausted from the long day.

As I turn on my phone, the screen greets me with a notification that seems like a dream.

Jennaortega has started following you.

A thrill of excitement rushes through me.

"I can't believe it," I whisper to myself with a small smile, feeling as if I've won the lottery of luck.

Curious to know more about her, I access her profile, smiling at her beautiful close-up picture. Her bright, happy eyes convey an infectious vitality.

"Wow, 40 million followers," I thought incredulously. It was like stepping into a whole new world, filled with enthusiastic followers.

I smile as I see numerous comments filled with love and support for Jenna, carefully observing her latest post: she was inside a car, wearing headphones. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips; her brown eyes seem to gaze at me as if wanting to read my soul. Her slightly parted lips, her perfectly falling bangs... her posture so natural by the window told a story of freedom and carefreeness.

I follow her back.

With shyness and anxiety, I open the chat and look at Jenna Ortega's profile picture. "You can do this... just say hi," I murmur to myself, trying to muster some courage.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed the place I manage to write, my fingers trembling slightly. I send the message, feeling my heart race. I exit the chat, letting the adrenaline rush through my veins.

I wait anxiously, heart in my mouth, hoping for a response.

The minutes seem endless as the chat remains on standby. Then, suddenly, the phone emits a sound, indicating a new incoming message. The lit screen shows the name Jenna Ortega and a short but kind message: Hi! Yes, I really enjoyed the place, the atmosphere was truly cozy. Thanks!

A spontaneous smile spreads across my face. Is there something you're particularly passionate about? I write, hoping to make the conversation deeper and more interesting.

Jenna's response comes quickly: Mmmh... why this random question?

I nervously bite my lower lip. I don't know, I'd love to know something about you that the internet can't tell me I write honestly.

I involuntarily smile as Jenna puts a heart on my message. "In that case... I love art and culture, so I enjoy visiting museums and art galleries. And also nature, taking long walks in parks."

I feel an immediate connection, as I also loved long walks, especially with Tex, my loyal four-legged companion.

I decide to share this detail:

I also love taking long walks, especially with Tex, my German Shepherd. He's my faithful adventure companion!

Jenna seems to like the bond with the four-legged friend, and the conversation continues on this topic. We've found a common ground that makes the conversation more authentic and enjoyable.

How about we have a call? she suddenly asks.

I feel a thrill of excitement at the opportunity to hear her voice and get to know each other better.

I reply: I'd love to.

A few seconds later, Jenna's profile picture, a white light, appears.

I swallow and, sighing, I accept the call.

"Hey!" My voice trembles slightly, nervous.

Jenna softly laughs, making my heart beat uncontrollably.

"Hello," Jenna responds.

I can sense the smile she's wearing.

"How are you?" I ask and close my eyes at such a basic question.

"Good... just a bit tired," she comments shyly, letting out a small yawn.

My eyes glance at the alarm clock next to my bed, seeing that it's only 10:08 PM.

"Maybe... we talk tomorrow?" I ask worriedly, biting my lower lip.

My heart hammers rapidly in my chest.

"No... I enjoy talking to you," she confesses, and my cheeks flush.

I sigh in relief knowing she couldn't see my blush and smile widely, almost feeling a pain in my cheeks.

"Oh, well... I can say the same," I reply.

Jenna gently laughs, making me smile even more.

"Do you have any interviews tomorrow? Or have the recordings already started?" I ask curiously.

"Mmmh," Jenna murmurs, thoughtful, "I think we're meeting with Tim," she says almost hesitantly.

"Right, it's not certain they're shooting here," I murmur almost sadly.

"I have no idea... but it's very likely," she admits weakly.

An not uncomfortable silence envelops us.

"And tell me... you said you'd be meeting. Who's with you?" I ask with curiosity, clutching the sheets out of nervousness.

"Oh... let me think," Jenna murmurs, "I believe it's Percy and Emma," she admits.

"Emma?" I ask excitedly. "Enid?" I ask with a smile on my face.

"Yes..." she laughs softly at my enthusiasm.

"Do you know I ship them in Wednesday ?" I say excitedly. "Enid and wdenesday are so close and adorable!" I exclaim happily.

Jenna bursts into laughter.

"Maybe it'll be canon... who knows," she says in a sing-song tone.

"Come to think of it..." she begins. "Maybe one day I could introduce you to the cast," she proposes, and I open my mouth in surprise.

"You're not joking... really?" I ask, and she gently laughs at my excitement.

"Seriously, let's say it's a way to pay you back for the coffee," she murmurs, yawning.

My excitement grows as I talk about my passions, the books I love to read, and the places I like to visit in the city. But then, I notice Jenna murmuring timidly, almost incomprehensibly, not responding.

"Jenna, everything okay?" I ask worriedly, sensing something off in the air.

"Mmmh," Jenna responds even more timidly, as if wanting to hide something.

"Did you see the new movie talk to me?" I ask absentmindedly, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood. "It was strange... I feel sorry for the guy, his face got messed up... but the ending... wow," I murmur absentmindedly, hoping to liven up the conversation.

I notice Jenna getting quieter and quieter, and worry grows inside me. "Am I... boring you?" I ask uncertainly, fearing I've made the conversation dull or tiresome for her.

"No," Jenna barely manages to respond, her voice weak and tired.

"I like your voice... keep going..." she affirms with a yawn, trying to encourage me to talk, but it's evident that fatigue is taking over.

Confused, I stutter in my thoughts, "What was I saying?" My mind is a bit foggy, and the fear of having bored her grows.

Jenna's steady breath makes me realize she has fallen asleep. I smile tenderly, knowing it's been a long day for her. Unfortunately, it's clear that tiredness has taken the lead, and I realize it's best to let her rest.

I gaze at the ceiling of my room, smiling.

"Goodnight, Jen," I whisper with a small smile, feeling the breath of the girl on the other end.