#i feel like Taylor Swift would crash it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenroutledge · 3 months ago

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we were liars

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: inspired by taylor swift’s cruel summer.

warning(s): angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, baku ‘24 crash, mutual pining, two stubborn idiots in love basically.

a/n: this has been a long time coming! longest thing i’ve written in years and i loved every minute of it! enjoy <3

They say there’s no place like home. Whether that’s a person or a feeling, it’s hard to tell. Every summer allows you to figure that out, but at what point do you lose hope in trying? At what point do you resign to the feeling of wanting someone so badly, knowing they’re impossible to have? At what point do you stop torturing yourself into facing that fact?

Seeing as it was impossible to decline Carlos’ invitation to join his summer vacation, finding answers would be a hopeless pursuit. Not that you were paying close attention or anything, but plans were always tentative around this time of year. Knowing that whenever he calls, you’ll answer. It’s always around mid-late July, many nights during the race weekends that have you awake in the middle of the night, on the receiving end of his late night thoughts. It’s by that point in the season that Carlos begins to feel restless, carrying more doubts in his ability than he’d care to admit.

But he’s only human. He needs a break. He needs to retreat back to the solace that calms the soul, an unfamiliar peace that he doesn’t stop craving until he sees you again. For most months out of the year, Carlos settles on the sight of you running through his imagination until he musters the courage to give you a call. He settles once again when he wishes you sweet dreams to mask the three words and eight letters that rest on the tip of his tongue. Just friends or not, Carlos settles for having you in his life any way he can. You’ve already attended the many races he’s asked you to come to, sometimes with less than a day’s notice. Summer break is the reunion you both can count on, always overdue no matter how much time you’d spent apart.

The journey to the house has your mind buzzing with possibilities, or theories, as to how your dynamic with Carlos will be. Will you pick up like you never left off? Will you keep pretending that nothing’s changed between you two? For now, you’d have to put that on hold. Given that Lando had been accepted as an honorary member of the Sainz family, it was no surprise to see him, tan as ever, answering the door at Carlos' vacation home. “Y/n! Long time no see!” He greets you with a bright smile and a hug, offering to help you with some of your bags.

“No kidding, it’s nice to see you too!” You smile warmly, eyes instinctively drifting past him in search of his best friend and former teammate. “How’s your break so far?”

“Much needed.” He sighs, gathering your bags in an attempt to take them all in one trip. Lando starts rambling about his triumphs and defeats so far this season at McLaren, feeling comfortable enough to divulge his true thoughts in your company, sans the media training.

Any remarks you had in response suddenly leave you, heart melting under the gaze of those gorgeous brown eyes you know so well. Carlos’ lips turn up into a smile at the sight of you, eagerly opening his arms to meet you in a crushing embrace. “Look who made it to Mallorca!”

Your smile spreads so wide that your cheeks begin to hurt, not that you care. “I wouldn’t miss it. You know I’m not one to pass on a free vacation.”

“Ah, come on.” He grumbles at your teasing words. “Tell me you didn’t miss me, too.” You both relax in each other’s arms, never pulling too far away. To see him like this, up close and personal, feels like a dream. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while and you admire how handsome the length looks on him.

“Maybe a little bit. But it’s not like we haven’t been on the phone nonstop. We always keep in touch.”

“That’s true, but those phone calls don’t beat the real thing. They’re not even close.” Carlos runs a finger underneath your chin, so quickly that if he didn’t have your full attention, you would’ve missed it. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Who would’ve thought you would be so happy to see little old me when you’re rubbing elbows with the rich and famous every weekend. You have it all.”

He smiles, but shakes his head in playful disagreement. “Not everything.”

“Ahem.” Lando clears his throat, still visibly struggling with your luggage at the front door. “Hate to burst your little love bubble but would anyone care to help me carry this?”

His interruption startles you and Carlos, causing you both to retract from the other’s hold and stand at a very platonic and appropriate distance away from each other. Not that you were just caught in anything unusual, but it sure felt like your parents just saw your prom date kissing you goodnight on the front porch.

“Jesus Y/n, is your suitcase full of bricks or something?”

“Just bikinis.” You laugh, not missing the way Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at you before going to help poor Lando carry your bags upstairs. “Gotta get my money’s worth out of them. Not all of us get paid millions to drive in circles, you know.”

Lando scoffs. “We’re only here for a week. How many of them could you possibly need?”

“She needs options, cabrón.”

“See, Carlos gets it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sure. Defend her.” Lando snides at the Spaniard. “I’ll remember that.”

—

The summer holiday not only gave you an opportunity to restore your serotonin levels and forget that the outside world existed, but it was also a chance to reconnect with the people you hold dear. (Sometimes) Lando, Carlos, and of course his sister Ana. Being close with Carlos’ family was a packaged deal with anyone he was also close to himself. The four of you together made for unforgettable memories. The day had been spent on the water, with Carlos showing off his ability to pilot something other than a Formula 1 car.

“Enough of the boring conversation please!” Ana interjects Lando & Carlos’ chatter about their latest golf game, wanting to revert the conversation back to something interesting at dinner. “I have a burning question I need to ask Y/n. And I know that somebody here would love to know the answer. So, who are you dating?”

Her question changes the mood suddenly, a mix of interest and curiosity filling the atmosphere. It takes you by surprise even though you don’t have to pause to think about it because the answer is simple. It’s not complicated, even if your feelings for the man sitting across from you are anything but.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

This draws a dramatic gasp from your friend beside you, one that conceals a subconscious sigh of relief from Carlos.

“What do you mean? How is that even possible?”

You chuckle at Ana’s amazement, feeling unexpectedly shy with your love life being the topic of conversation. “It just is. I’m not really interested in dating anybody right now.” As if Carlos wasn’t listening closely before, he sure is now. The inquisitive looks you receive from each of your friends prompts you to explain yourself further. “I mean what’s the point, you know? If I don’t see a future with someone, why would I put myself through that? Knowing it’s gonna end in disappointment.”

“I’m just saying, you’re way too hot to be single. Isn’t that right, Carlos?” Ana defends, smirking at the harmless embarrassment she’s pushing on her brother. He shoots her a sharp look and draws a pained gasp from her when he (harmlessly) kicks her shin under the table. Carlos clears his throat to hide it, but their interaction is evident, and ever true to their sibling dynamic.

“She’s right. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

The tips of your ears burn at his compliment, but you know he’s only saving himself. He’s the gentleman everyone knows him to be and adores him for by giving you a line that’s been written into romantic comedies since they came to be. “Thanks, Carlos.”

His heart clenches at your words, unable to tell if you really believe it or not. He knows that his statement was vague and it toes the line of friendship more than he would like, but he’s also at a loss. How could he even begin to describe the ways he loves you, or notices everything about you, big and small? How he lied when he said anyone would be lucky to have you, knowing that most people wouldn’t even come close to deserving the love you have to offer. He knows that he’s not supposed to feel this way, let alone tell you and destroy the friendship you have. Locking eyes with you across the table, he wishes you could read his mind. Instead, he settles for a polite smile.

—

Once the boat is docked, it doesn’t feel right to abandon the sunset and head back to the house. The air on the beach is crisp, smelling of the clear waters and reflecting the pink and golden hues of the setting sun. Lando and Carlos are the last to leave the boat, carrying a beer cooler to where you and Ana sit down in the sand.

Carlos hands you a drink before taking a comfortable seat next to you. The silence is tranquil as you rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the gifts that Mother Nature has to offer. A warm feeling envelopes Carlos as he peers down at you, one that he can’t pass off as just the alcohol starting to move through his system. He wants to commit this moment to memory. If he’s settling for this, then he isn’t settling at all.

“We should play Truth or Dare.” Lando suggests, growing bored of the silence, though it was nice while it lasted. His expression turns puzzled at the looks he receives from the rest of you. “What? It’s fun.”

“If you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, you would’ve made one hell of a frat boy.” You tease, Ana and Carlos agreeing with you.

Lando sighs. “I know. What a waste right?”

“But then we would’ve never become teammates.”

“You’re right.” Lando chuckles, toasting his drink with Carlos’ at the realization.

“I’ll go first.” Ana speaks up, interrupting the boys before they could get too deep into their side chatter. Judging by the closeness she’s seen from you and her brother, what’s the harm in trying to help things along? “Carlos, truth or dare?”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink before throwing his head back dramatically. By his sister’s not so subtle hints throughout the night, and really every time you are in each other’s presence, he can feel where this is going. Yet a part of him isn’t mad at it.

“Truth.”

“Boooor-ing.” Lando sneers and you can’t help but giggle. Ana gives him a look as if to say, not so fast.

“Are you in love?”

Lando regrets ever saying anything in protest, as he nearly chokes on his beer once Ana finishes her sentence. Given what he knows, it’s impossible for him to not die of laughter at the scenario. Watching Carlos fight for his life on this question tops any interview moment they’ve had inside a Formula 1 paddock. Carlos pauses, which luckily for him can be passed off as pure concern for his best friend that’s currently gasping for air.

Your chest feels tight at the question, not expecting Ana to go there. You know Carlos’ life being on the road as a very rich and attractive athlete probably isn’t one of abstinence, but you can’t deny that it doesn’t crush you to imagine someone else having the key to his heart. You take a few gulps from your drink and it makes you worry that if this keeps up all night, there won’t be any alcohol left for you to drown your feelings in. They’ll just stay trapped inside of you with nowhere to go.

“Yes. I’m in love… with life.” Carlos professes, looking around with gratitude, raising his arms up as if to give thanks to the beautiful scenery around you.

Ana scoffs. “That’s not my question! I asked are you in love. As in, with someone. Perhaps even someone next to you.” She speaks the last part quickly, feigning innocence as she looks between you.

“Please, Carlos and I are just friends.” You brush off her words, knowing how she can be sometimes when she believes in something. Relentless; just like Carlos is. A trait you can’t help but admire in them both. Lando laughs in disbelief, making kissing sounds to contradict you. Carlos’ smile falters, eyebrows scrunching together ever so slightly. It’s impossible to tell if he’s hurt at your dismissal of only seeing him as a friend, or just annoyed at the antics that are a nuisance to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

“We talk all the time, Anita. I think you already know the answer.”

Ana shrugs. “It’s the rules, Carlos. You picked truth, so you have to answer.”

“Yeah! Spill the beans, Carlos.” Lando encourages. “And don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

“Easy, cabrón.” He warns, glancing between his best friend and his impatient sister as they wait for him to answer. Finally, his gaze lands on you, quietly sitting beside him through all of their quips. He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know you don’t hold him in a higher regard than friendship entails. Yet the weight pulling at his heartstrings isn’t one he feels the need to bear anymore. You may never know the full truth, but that’s just another thing Carlos feels the need to let go of. “The answer is yes. I am in love.”

While the summer weather is nothing but serene, the storm inside of you is the complete opposite. You feel like throwing up. Leave it to Lando to suggest a fun, light-hearted game to stir things up. You paste on a smile, trying with everything you have to hold Carlos’ gaze and make your ‘just friends’ statement feel like reality. The emotion glossing over your eyes betrays you. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

He can’t shake the unsettling feeling that’s consuming him. Whether it’s the guilt of omitting a very important detail to that answer or the fact that you don’t seem disturbed at the thought of him with someone else. Ana and Lando share an incredulous look, unable to understand how two people can be so oblivious to one another while also being unable to look away from them. “So that’s it?” Lando mumbles, but his quiet tone isn’t much competition for the silence that’s fallen over the group.

Carlos pretends that he can’t feel the disappointment in the air, turning his attention to his friend and choosing to carry on with the game. “Lando, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Lando says cooly like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” Carlos ponders, thinking carefully as to how he’s gonna get his payback. The awkward tension between you could’ve been avoided entirely had Lando not mentioned this stupid game at all. “I dare you to… jump into the water with all your clothes on.”

“So the opposite of skinny dipping? But we have no towels!”

“Exactly.” Carlos raises his eyebrows pointedly. He can’t think of a better punishment than to make Lando sit here shivering until he can find comfort under a scalding hot shower. “Unless you are too scared…”

“Never too scared.” Lando argues, already making a mold in the sand for his drink to sit while he’s gone. “I’ll do it, on one condition. Y/n comes with me.”

“No.” Carlos answers for you, almost immediately. “That’s not in the rules, remember?”

“Come on, live a little.” Lando looks between the two of you, hoping he can make a convincing argument. If he doesn’t liven up the mood now, he’ll consider this game a wash. “How about this, if you join me, you don’t have to answer any questions or do any dares. You’ll have immunity.”

You raise your eyebrows at his idea, intrigued. You’d do almost anything to distract yourself from what just happened with Carlos. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t.”

“You can.” Carlos objects, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “And you will. Come on Y/n, you could get sick. It’s getting chilly out.”

Lando scoffs at his hypocrisy. “Oh, so now you’re concerned? Because who cares if I get sick, right?”

You look between the two men, and then to Ana, who shrugs undecidedly as if to say it’s up to you. Carlos’ eyes are pleading, hoping to get through to you before you do something you might regret. Then again, these are the same eyes that looked into yours minutes ago and told you he’s in love with someone else. You don’t need to listen to his concerns, you don’t owe that to him. Drinking what’s left in your bottle, you accept Lando’s hand to help you up before making a run for it towards the water.

The two of you disappear under what’s now the nighttime sky, the moonlight shining bright enough to lead the way. It isn’t until you’re just about there, that one wrong step onto a bottle hiding in the sand halts your movements, causing a sharp cry to escape your throat as a sharper cut of glass slices into your foot. Lando barely makes it to the water when he realizes you’re no longer beside him, instantly turning around to see that you’re bleeding. “Oh fuck, are you alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder, trying to examine the injury but comfort you the best way he can.

A string of curses fall from your lips, language more characteristic of a sailor than your normal self. “What does it look like? Holy shit, it hurts!”

“Carlos!” Lando calls out, unable to peel his eyes away from your foot.

Both Carlos and Ana were already watching the scene unfold, and Carlos wasted no time in rushing to your side within seconds, Ana following closely behind from down the beach. “Y/n? What happened?”

“I stepped on this– fuck– that bottle.” You nod over to the bottle, a couple feet away from you. Carlos’ heartbeat quickens at the sight of you, clearly distressed and in pain, but knows he can’t afford a freezing moment of panic. He removes the thin linen shirt he’s wearing to wrap around your foot and compress it, in hopes the bleeding will stop.

Lando takes a step back when you remove your hands from where they clutched your injury, trying to catch his breath as he feels lightheaded at the sight, glass piercing your skin deeply. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Carlos and Ana pay him no mind, as Ana rests a hand on your knee soothingly while Carlos goes to wrap up your foot with his shirt. But you are just as quick to stop him. “It hurts, Carlos.”

“I know, I know, but we have to stop the bleeding. This cut is deep.”

“Removing the glass will only make it worse.” Ana falters, knowingly it’s not what you want to hear. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You’re probably right, I think I need stitches.”

“We will get you there.” Carlos assures. “Just breathe with me, can you do that?”

You nod, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as your eyelids flutter shut. Clearly Lando has to do the same, feeling dizzy at the sight. He wanders over to where the bottle lay broken in the sand, a wave of guilt washing over him when he realizes the label reads Estrella Galicia. Carlos’ favorite beer, the same one they happened to have an abundance of in the cooler today. A bottle they must’ve dropped by accident when making their way up the beach.

Ana tells you that she’s going up to the house to find Carlos’ keys to drive you all to the emergency room. Lando finishes picking up the pieces of the broken bottle, heading inside to dispose of them. It’s just you and Carlos now. Not that you bothered to care who you were alone with at this moment, but you feel safe.

You notice your heavy breathing has slowed down in tune with his as he gently secures the fabric around your foot. “You will be okay Y/n, I promise.” Considering how out of it you are, you nearly miss the feeling of his lips kissing your forehead chastely. Before you can wonder how the hell you would be walking up the beach, Carlos is effortlessly lifting you off the ground and carrying you in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

—

“Don’t do that.” Ana nudges her brother’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like you do. She’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right.” Lando chimes in. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s your fault.” Carlos snaps back at him.

“What did I do?”

“I told you not to take her with you. It wasn’t a good idea and clearly I was right.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “She wanted to. And if you wanna talk about fault, it was an Estrella Galicia she stepped on. That bottle fell out of our cooler.”

Carlos felt that tightening feeling in his chest again, a mix of guilt and shame brewing into something far more intoxicating than what he’s had to drink tonight. “I would never be so careless.”

“None of us would be. It was an accident, that’s the point. It’s not like she blames any of us for what happened.”

“She might.”

“Carlos, stop it.” Ana interjects, watching him with concern as he leans forward, hands clasped together while his mind is in deep thought. “She would probably slap both of you if she heard what you’re saying right now.” Ana proceeds to retrieve some money from the bag she hurriedly grabbed before leaving for the hospital, asking Carlos to get some chips from the vending machine. There wasn’t much she could do about the bickering between him and Lando except try to diffuse it by separating them. She knows how stubborn her brother can be and knows that his attitude won’t go anywhere until he sees you.

Carlos certainly doesn’t feel like himself, sluggishly moving down the hall, unable to break his train of thought. The fact that you got hurt on his watch, still unaware of how he feels about you has his heartstrings tangled in knots. The most unbelievable part being that despite the intensity of his Formula 1 career, he’s never felt as on edge as he does right now. It’s both exciting and scary that you’ve seemed to wedge yourself a little closer to his heart than the sport that’s defined his life.

When he sees you with Ana or Lando, he envies them. He envies the authenticity that defines your friendships with them, the feeling of being able to say what’s on your mind without a care, knowing they’ll never lose you. He wonders what that’s like, he craves to have that with you. He struggles to remember when his feelings began to get in the way of that. Now he has no choice but to face it, feeling further away from you than he ever has. The longer this goes on, that distance will only worsen until you don’t know each other at all. A part of him wants to do everything in his power to stop that; another part tells him that he’s powerless when it comes to you.

His head hangs low, finding it easy to get lost in the glow of the vending machine. Behind him in line, the sound of a kid deliberately tapping his foot snaps him out of his trance, prompting him to hurry up with the chips. Heading back towards the waiting room, he notices Ana and Lando speaking to a doctor. By the looks of it, they’re hanging on her every word, urging him to pick up his pace so he doesn’t miss any updates on you.

—

The hospital room is cold and uninviting. Quite the opposite of an ideal place to spend your summer vacation. You lay there alone for what feels like hours, wishing nothing more than to have Carlos at your bedside. You know he’s here, and so are your friends, but it’s not the same. The heart monitor beeps routinely every couple seconds, and your blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, making it impossible to doze off even if you wanted to. The pain in your foot is better, though not gone completely, after having the glass removed by a doctor and your wound properly stitched up. Given how late it was, they’d keep you until the morning, needing to monitor the wound for a possible infection.

When you ask for your friends in the waiting room, your nurse looks like she’s seen a ghost at the mention of Carlos Sainz. Once you had reassured her that you had no head injury whatsoever, she reluctantly left to go find your description of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. You’ll see him.’

And so taking a deep breath, Carlos is standing in front of your room, tapping his knuckles gently to the wooden door. “Knock, knock.”

You smile instinctively at the sound of his voice, eager to see someone familiar in what has been a lonely couple of hours. “Come in.”

He opens the door immediately before laying eyes on you sitting up in the hospital bed, hurt and exhausted from the day’s events. He swallows down the guilt that creeps up his throat, hoping that it doesn’t show. He doesn’t deserve to throw a pity party right now when you're the one that’s in pain. His words don’t get that memo as he laments. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Maybe if I went too, it would’ve been me instead.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, patting the foot of your bed so he will sit down. “I won’t let you think about the what if’s, Carlos, you need your feet to drive remember? Though knowing your resilience, you’d probably come back and win, glass in your foot be damned. They don’t call you the Smooth Operator for nothing.”

His heart warms at how you know just what to say to lift his spirits. “I could win only if you’re there to cheer me on.”

“Just say the word and I will be. I wouldn’t fly around the world on a moment’s notice for just anyone, you know.”

“I don’t want ‘just anyone’. Just you.” Your smile beams, and all of a sudden you feel the need to be close to him, holding a hand out to him that he instantly takes in his own. “Can I say something? And can you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Tonight can’t get much worse, can it?”

He faintly smiles at your quip, but it also worries him that your relationship may always be limited to just that, laughter and clever jokes. He needs you to know that he’s serious. And it wouldn’t be so bad to hear that in return from you either, just this once. “I love you.”

You freeze, probably looking like a deer in headlights. There must be some truth to the theory that people tend to be more honest at night. The exhaustion from the day wears on the brain while the world falls asleep, leaving the two of you to face the lingering vulnerability intertwining itself deeper into your friendship. You’d been denying it for as long as you can remember. A part of you wonders if he’s just tired of fighting it, if he’s just giving in to what everyone expects to happen between you. Even though Carlos is a terrible liar, you can’t shake the doubt that tells you his admission isn’t what it seems.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to say that just because you feel bad. I understand.”

“It’s not about that, Y/n. I’m telling you how I feel– no, how I’ve felt– for a long time now, and I refuse to hide it from you anymore.”

“And how can you say that when a few hours ago you said you were in love with somebody else? Does that ring a bell to you?”

The realization hits Carlos, now he can understand why you’re so skeptical. “I never said I was in love with somebody else, it’s you! I was talking about you. When I said that I am in love, I meant to say that I was in love with you.” He sighs, finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

The feeling that comes over you is paralyzing, unable to breathe a word in his direction. Those damn eyes that he’s giving you only complicate things. As badly as you want to express your love for him in return, you can’t. Not when the past several months, if not years, of your life have revolved around falling in love with Carlos and not being able to stop. Not being able to save yourself from the inevitable rejection that would break your foolish heart in two. Each day, the feeling buries itself deeper but comes alive in bursts. If your body didn’t remind you of it with a quickened heartbeat and a fuzzy feeling when he’s near, you wouldn’t know the difference between your ‘best friend’ Carlos and the confused one sitting at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Y/n, please. Say something. Tell me to get out or tell me you love me too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I know there’s something behind your eyes. There’s something you’re hiding from me, I can feel it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Y/n, you forget that I know you.” He states obviously. “We’ve been best friends for years now, so the question is how could I not?”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Having you is more than enough. But you have to understand that I can’t go on like this. I want to love you and never hide it. For as long as you let me.” His eyes bare into yours, nearly feeling claustrophobic as he takes both of your hands in his. “Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out as a mumble instead of the vibrato you wished to have right about now. Tears gloss over your eyes, but you don’t welcome them. The downturn of his frown and the emptiness that’s seeping into his expression claws at your chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” He opens his mouth to say something, be it out of apology or anger, you’ll never know.

Three resounding knocks to your hospital room door cut through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

It’s Lando and Ana, the soft smiles on their faces falling as they look between you and Carlos, sensing that something isn’t right. “Are we interrupting? We thought we’d check on you before they kick us out for the night.”

“Not at all.” You put on a smile for them in reassurance, yet fooling no one. The suspense in the air is palpable enough to leave all of you feeling awkward to say the least. It’s enough to make Carlos split the distance between his best friend and sister, leaving the room without a word.

Carlos walks as fast as his feet will take him, eventually landing on the familiar chair in the waiting room he sat in when he arrived. For the first time tonight, his mind isn’t racing and anxiety isn’t coursing through his veins. He is defeated, worse than he’s ever been before. Be it a race-ending issue with the car or losing out on his Ferrari seat, those are losses that he can at least come back from. This one’s a dead end.

“Want some? You look like you could use a snack.”

His attention swivels to a boy in the seat nearby, who he now recognizes from the vending machine earlier, snacking away on his bag of Ruffles. Carlos shakes his head, but still smiles softly at the consideration. “No thank you, not hungry.”

“Do you like chips?”

“I prefer cookies.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And why’s that?”

“I dunno, you’re Carlos Sainz. Chili. I thought you’d go for anything salty or spicy. I guess you really do learn something new everyday.”

Carlos sighs, remembering his current troubles. His eyes flicker over to the hallway containing your room, expecting to see a familiar face at some point. “Tell me about it.”

The boy, whose backpack is embroidered with the name ‘Samuel’, gives Carlos a puzzled look. “What did you learn today?”

The question leaves him clueless as to how he can answer, without trauma dumping onto Samuel who is none the wiser to the conundrum he’s in. He clears his throat before answering, eyeing the vending machine as an analogy comes to his mind. “I love chocolate chip cookies, but they don’t love me back. My job doesn’t allow me to have them because they are too sweet for me. I try to stay away from the cookies, but I can’t. I wish I could be selfish and have them all to myself, but it’s just impossible. I can’t win.”

“Maybe try a different kind? Something healthier for you then.”

“Good idea, but that would never work. I’ll always love the chocolate chip cookie. Nothing else compares to her.”

“Are you talking about a girl?”

“No, no.” Carlos tries to cover, heat rising to his cheeks. “Still talking about the cookies.”

“You could always try baking your own.” He suggests. “When my mamá bakes cookies, they’re better than anything else because she makes them with love.”

Carlos nods along, and thanks Samuel for his words of advice. He’s off in his own world right now, desperate enough for guidance that he’s willing to imagine the ridiculous analogy between chocolate chip cookies and his relationship with you.

Minutes turn into hours, and Carlos finds himself in your room once again, sitting in a chair near your bedside. He reassured Ana and Lando earlier to go home as he insisted on staying with you overnight. Visiting hours were far from over, but a small bribe for your nurse was all it took for an exception to be made for Carlos Sainz.

The sun is up before you know it, but that’s not what shocks you. It’s the man slumped over in the chair overcome with fatigue. You wish it was all a dream. That stupid game of truth or dare, stepping on the glass bottle, pushing Carlos away when in hindsight, you should’ve surrendered too. You should’ve given in the same way he did, it surely would’ve made for a less awkward ride home. It’s not his words from last night that cloud the space in your mind, it’s your own. Seeing him now, he looks tranquil. Like the weight of the world can’t touch him when he’s already said his peace. You’ll continue longing to feel the same, knowing that your chance might’ve just come and gone.

—

AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024

“Care to tell me why you’re really here?”

A puzzled raise of your eyebrows tells Lando everything he needs to know before you can even say it. “I’m sorry, I can’t support McLaren now? One of my best friends happens to drive for them.”

“Another happens to drive for their rival, too.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing personal. Orange looks better on me.”

“Carlos would beg to differ.”

“Will you stop that? It isn’t about him.”

“Fine. But it’s not not about him, admit that.” He gives you a knowing look, one that’s skeptical of how much you’ve been avoiding Carlos lately, ever since the vacation you all took together. What was once a lively group chat between you three now consists of the occasional meme or reaction photo. “Come on, something happened between you two. Admit it.”

You sigh, eyes tearing away from him as you feel pressure under his interrogation. “Nothing happened. It’s probably more about what didn’t happen.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Like your bestie hasn’t already filled you in.”

Lando shrugs, never giving away too much. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“He just misspoke. He told me he loved me after I injured my foot over the summer. I brushed him off, and we’re pretending like it never happened.” Lando’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t realize his jaw is hanging open until you press two fingers under his chin. “And that includes you. Deal? Not a word about this to anyone.”

“Damn, that’s even worse than I thought! You’re avoiding him because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t love me, doofus. He felt guilty because I stepped on a bottle that one of you probably dropped.” Three sharp pokes to the Brit’s chest emphasize your point, the narrative you’ve spent months now convincing yourself is true. “It’s just been a little tense, we haven’t really been the same since then. He thinks I’m being cold about the whole thing.”

“Are you?”

“No! I just know him better than he knows himself and he refuses to admit it. He’s stubborn, as you know, and he won’t let me forget it. He’s probably messing with my head until I cave in.”

“Cave in to what? Admitting you love him too?”

You gulp, brain scattering while you feel for some reason, like you’re being found out. “Where would you get that idea?”

“You haven’t denied it. Isn’t that all he wants anyway? I’m sure if you told him you didn’t feel the same way, this would all be over. Which won’t happen because you do, in fact, love Carlos Sainz.”

You resist the urge to give Lando a good whack to any tender part of his body, by the way a McLaren team member accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation in passing, obviously trying to look away before you notice. “Don’t use his full name.” You warn in a hushed whisper. “Word travels fast around here, you know.”

“Please don’t injure me before the race. I’m just saying, would it hurt to speak to him for more than five minutes at a time?”

“He’ll get over it. Hell, he might already be over it. I just think a little more space wouldn’t hurt either of us right now.”

“Well, you know what they say about space.” Lando gives you a knowing look, before dramatically breaking out into his best Nick Jonas impersonation. “Space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get close.”

“Very nice, Lando.”

“Just don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

“It’s better for our friendship this way, okay? Imagine had I said it back, what kind of damage that would do to all of us when it goes to shit. It would never work between us, and I refuse to set us up for failure. I’d rather keep things the same. And he would too, he just doesn’t know it yet. This year hasn’t been the easiest for him, you know? He’s just trying to cling on to what’s familiar. He might think that he loves me, but it’s a phase. In a year from now, he’ll be in a new team, a new era of his life and career, and we won’t even remember this.”

“Really? Because I think, if he had it his way, he’d be with you forever.”

“And I feel terrible about pushing him away, but it’s for the best, okay? You’ll see.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Lando nods slowly but unconvincingly, taking some steps backwards and away from you, leaving to do the pre-race preparations he should probably be focused on instead.

—

“For the best?!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes wide and hinting a mix of disappointment, hurt, and frustration at the turn your friendship has taken.

“I know, I had the same look. It doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Each excuse I hear from her is more ridiculous than the last. I miss when I could just talk to her, you know? Without thinking about how she’s gonna push me away this time.”

“You should just tell her to stop inventing.” Lando giggles, biting his lip to keep from breaking out into full hysterical laughter in the middle of the driver’s parade.

Carlos shoots a warning glare to his friend. “It’s one thing if she didn’t feel anything for me, but she’s been avoiding me as if we haven’t been best friends for years now. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe she’s scared to lose you, have you ever thought of that? What would happen in case it doesn’t work out? I think she’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, though. She knows me. I thought I knew her, too.”

“You do. I, for one, think you’re perfect for each other.” Lando tries to offer some consolation, but he knows that Carlos can’t and won’t settle for the silver lining in all of this.

“I used to think so too. But hey, she might be onto something. Maybe it is for the best.”

—

The race doesn’t disappoint, keeping in line with the chaotic patterns the 2024 season has had to offer. Nearing the end of the race, the pit wall, mechanics, and spectators alike can breathe a sigh of relief that the position of their driver won’t be threatened. Oscar leads by 10 seconds, making it a great weekend to be a guest of McLaren for the weekend. The garage bustles with excitement as the cars begin the last lap.

It was looking like a fight to the checkered flag between Checo and Carlos, closely rounding Turn 2 just behind Charles, racing wheel to wheel down the straight before the two cars clash, the Red Bull of Checo sending the Ferrari of Carlos into the concrete barrier at 300 kilometers per hour.

A wave of adrenaline strikes you instantly, audible gasps sounding through the garage at the brutal and unexpected impact. The same sight of the crash had to be on every monitor throughout the entire paddock, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat. Carlos being a beloved member in the McLaren family certainly intensified things, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screen. A flash of heat burns through you as you see Checo seemingly confront Carlos and walk off, but your worries don’t dissipate until you see the man in red get out of his car, slowly but steadily.

—

It’s almost night by the time you arrive back at your hotel, Lando having stayed back in the paddock for team photos and celebrations of Oscar’s win. It’s a short walk back to the nearby hotel, and you could use the fresh air to help clear your mind anyway. Mindlessly, you open your messages with Carlos. Typing, then erasing, then typing again.

‘Glad you’re okay.’ No, too short.

‘Are you okay? Sorry about your race.’ No, too impersonal.

‘I love you too. I should’ve said it sooner.’ No, too risky. Too permanent. You’re not ready for what comes next. Who knows if he even wants to talk to you, especially about this. Don’t be selfish.

Your earlier conversation with Lando creeps up on you, giving you more to worry about than you had previously considered. Could it be guilt or pure heartache, you’re not sure. All that is certain is you can’t carry on with your relationship like this either. It only took you a few months and a crash to fuel you with the same passion he felt for you over the summer, when he confessed. Facing the truth is scary, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you let him go. You can’t live with knowing that he might go so far that he never comes back.

The elevator door is open, your thoughts so entrancing that you don’t bother to look up. Until that signature red polo catches your eye, and they trail upwards to meet the brown ones you remember so well, the same ones you’ve been waiting to see again.

“Hi.” He breathes, almost in disbelief. From the mental and physical wear of today, Carlos can’t be more relieved to see your face, no matter what has gone on between you. Pure surprise sets in when you, after taking a few pauses to get a good look at him, engulf him into your arms with a passion. He winces slightly at the soreness that’s sinking into his muscles, but ultimately relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, trying to untangle yourself from his hold, to which he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“It’s not just about that, Carlos. I haven’t been a good friend to you lately and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“No.”

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“I pushed you away when I told you how I feel. But you need to know that I’m not sorry I said it. I’m not taking it back.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “This again? Why won’t I take it back? Because it’s the truth! I love you! I wish you could see it. I wish you could feel how badly I’ve been wanting to say it and hear it back from you. I’m man enough to understand if you don’t feel the same way, but you won’t even give me a conversation. You refuse to talk to me and I don’t know whether to take that as rejection or an admission. Because if you really didn’t believe a thing I said that night, we wouldn’t be here. Things would’ve stayed the same.” You stay silent, trying to process each of his words and their meanings, a mistake you’ve made one too many times. “Just talk to me, please.” His voice cracks slightly in his last word, and his plea brings tears to your eyes. “Not what you think I need to hear. Tell me what you’ve been holding inside.”

This is exactly what scares you about Carlos. His ability to understand your innermost thoughts without a word. His skepticism is more than enough to rattle you. Having him as a best friend is one thing, but leaving your heart to be broken in his hands is another. “I just don’t want things to change, Carlos. At the end of the day, we still have our own lives, our own goals and ambitions. It doesn’t matter how I feel when there’s plenty standing in the way of it.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent every waking moment wondering how all of those things could be ours, together. I fell in love with you and you’re punishing me for it, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Does it scare you? Is that why you want to sabotage our relationship before it has a chance? You need to understand that I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty you got hurt. I told you because I refuse to look you in the eyes and lie anymore than I already have.”

“I know.” You sigh, a tear slipping away from you. “I know that.”

“Then why are you only admitting this to me now? We’ve been wasting time dancing around this long enough.”

“I know how you feel because I feel it, too. Watching your car slam into the wall like that… I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing the truth. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore about avoiding you, about lying to you, about any of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I love you too, Carlos. It should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you told me but I just panicked. All I could picture was how this ends a million different ways and each of them were more heartbreaking than the last. But the longer I waited, I just thought it would be too late.”

“It’s never too late, Y/n.” Carlos whispers, brown eyes glossing over as they admire yours. Honestly, unabashedly, and lovingly, for the first time in a while. “I’m still here, aren’t I? After all this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, remember? Some things are worth waiting for.” He holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your fallen tear. “You are worth every second.”

You don’t hold back any longer, closing the gap and kissing him with all that you have. All of the emotions that for too long, had nowhere to go, have now found their home. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the hum of approval he gives you is delicious. If it were at all possible, you feel as close to him as you’ve ever felt, and him to you. Kissing him, feeling your love be reciprocated calms your head and sends your heart ablaze. You’d reckon the wall that stood between you, was always ready to be knocked over with the slightest gust of wind, had you not spent so much time trying to hold it up. Letting go was your best decision to date, the feeling of his lips on yours just confirms that.

It isn’t until the sound of the elevator dings that you pull away, realizing neither of you had pressed a single button upon entry. To your surprise it’s Lando, his grin smug like he’d just pulled off some kind of heist. You and Carlos instinctively try to put an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, only this time, nobody would believe there’s anything platonic about you two. By the looks of Carlos’ tousled hair and the smudges of your once perfect lip gloss, Lando needs no explanation from either of you.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on.” Lando laughs, reaching inside and pressing the ‘Close Doors’ button. “I’ll take the stairs.”

💌: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

taglist: @marjorieswrld

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guiltyasdave · 4 months ago

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epiphany

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

tags/warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, fluff, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n

summary: after a helicopter crash, frankie wakes up in a strange place.

a/n: once again i apologize for the pain i'm about to inflict on you. this was written for @almostfoxglove's angst challenge which i'm so so soooo late for (i'm sorry freya!) and this was originally @sizzlingcloudmentality's prompt/moodboard, but we were both going through the worst writer's block of our lives and thought switching might help (it did not), so the first thousand beautiful words are hers! <3 also thank you for beta reading and for all the yap sessions about this one in particular my love!

for an extra sad experience, listen to epiphany by taylor swift while reading :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

It is all noise, deafening noise, roaring rotors, beeping instruments, flickering lights, blinking warnings, screaming metal, screaming people, his own voice, so loud it made his ears ring. Then he saw it. Again. His mom, cradling him, his dad, telling him he was a good boy, Juan, his first cat, curled up in his lap. Friends, his brothers, most of them dead now, rotting in graves, the women he loved. His baby momma. His child, smiling up at him, tiny, fat hands grabbing into the air. Fuck, his life was flashing before his eyes. Again. How often would he have to see this, all his good moments and why were there bad moments, too?

A massive jolt goes through the helicopter as he hits the ground and now the smell of copper, fuel and earth fills his nostrils. Wet, dark, quiet earth. The smell of a grave. The beeping and whimpering blurs into one soundscape, a wave of sounds on which Frankie slips away as his eyes close shut. Dark, quiet earth. Like a grave.

A sheep. Or more than one? They bleat. They coax him out of his unconsciousness, every sound a beacon for his mind to find his way back into consciousness. Out of the dark peacefulness, back into the light. Frankie groans, everything hurts, not only his body, his whole existence hurts, feels broken and ripped. The sunlight cuts through between his eyelids, blinding him, but that is what he wants, the light. He needs the light.

He shields his eyes and finds himself in a meadow. Poppies, cornflowers, grass. Wet, rich earth under his palm as he tries to push himself up. The buzzing of insects. And the bleating sheep. He finds himself in a dream of cottage life. Then he turns his head and sees the helicopter, the carcass of the metal beast he tried to fly too close to the sun. Like Icarus he came crashing down.

He doesn’t have to check, he knows “a fatal crash with zero survivors” when he sees one. Frankie got lucky, again. Somehow death spared him, he always does. Maybe the old fella took a liking in watching Frankie fuck up his life over and over again.

Military training kicks in, he checks himself for injuries and finds no major ones. Maybe a broken rib or two, a concussion for sure. He grunts and pushes himself onto his knees, crying out in pain that he doesn’t even know where it’s coming from.

A furry head appears out of the tall grass, white curls, pink nose, floppy ears, black and vigilant eyes. The snout opens and a bleat comes out. Like a complaint for this human being. To better not disturb the peace in this meadow any further with his mediocrity of surviving yet another accident that should have killed him.

“Sorry,” Frankie mutters and finds the energy to rise to his feet. Shaky, wobbly, the scent of earth and grass clinging to his damp clothes and skin. “You know somewhere for me to find help?”

Another bleat, then the sheep turns and starts wading through the tall grass with all the time in the world. Frankie watches the little bum disappear between green blades dotted with red poppies. He might as well follow the animal. Perhaps he will find a shepherd this way. Or a good shepherd may find him. God knows Frankie is in desperate need of some guidance. Or at least medical attention.

So he starts walking, more limping than anything else, his boots cutting a swath through the grass and flowers, every step causing mayhem for bees and bugs. The sheep, a few steps ahead of Frankie, sways through the meadow like a ship through green waves. It doesn’t turn around once, doesn’t turn towards its herd, the animal simply follows an invisible path that Frankie can’t see. Maybe he is losing it now, following an animal after having a fatal crash like it was his guide. But he had done weirder things in his life. Maybe he had hit his head really hard on the ground when he got thrown out of the helicopter.

His head hurts, his legs hurt, breathing hurts as well, but the scent of summer and peace fills his hurting lungs and every breath soothes the stinging and rippling in his chest.

It takes some time, but finally, after hobbling behind the sheep, the meadow opens into a clearing, a gravel pathway starting to show and leading to a cottage. A small house with walls made out of stones, big and small, various shades and colors, a crooked roof, ducking under some trees as if it was hiding from the eyes of anyone who was not welcome. The birdsong sounds different now, too.

Another bleat and the sheep starts trotting towards the house, the front door open wide. Silence. There is no sound to be heard, no voices, no music playing, no banging of pots and pans. Just birds, humming insects, the sheep drinking water from a bowl. Peace, comes to Frankie’s mind as if someone had seeded the word into his brain.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, on a creaky bench in front of the house, basking in the last warm rays of the sun before it hides behind the trees. Ten minutes maybe, or an hour. His thoughts were flowing molasse thick behind his forehead. Thoughts about the crash, thoughts about the lives he has on his list, thoughts about who might miss him if he disappeared for good this time.

His eyes flutter shut. The sunlight is warm on his skin, painting the darkness behind his eyelids orange. It’s like he’s floating away, on his way to the sun once more.

“Francisco?”

Your voice is soft, almost as if the wind had whispered his name. He opens his eyes, turns his back on the painless bliss of unconsciousness once more.

Rays of the setting sun frame you where you’re standing in front of him, giving you a warm glow, illuminating the flowing fabric of the dress that you’re wearing. He doesn’t question how you know his name, how you feel familiar even though he’s certain that he’s never seen you before. He must have hit his head really hard.

“I— I crashed,” he croaks, his voice hoarse and the words scraping his throat on their way out.

His hand vaguely gestures in the direction he came from, but he can’t see the helicopter anymore, no sign of the crash either, only seemingly endless fields of grass and wildflowers, with trees in the distance. How far did he walk?

You nod, seemingly unsurprised. The sheep that led him there nudges your hand with its snout and you scratch through the wool around its ears, muttering what sounds like thank you. It bleats at him once more, before finally trotting back to its herd, blending into the white dots among the green.

You pick up the wooden basket you had been carrying and tip your head towards the open door. Your eyes had been trained on his face, but when he stands up on unsteady legs, they trail down his frame, lingering on his side where blood has been seeping through his shirt and the stained fabric is clinging to his skin uncomfortably. He barely registered the pain while he was sitting there, but now, it grows to full intensity. Maybe it’s more than a concussion and a cracked rib after all.

He follows you over the threshold, taking in his surroundings. The stony walls, littered with mismatched wooden shelves, filled with books and flowerpots. Small windows through which the evening light is filtering in. Worn down furniture, cushions that he would love to sink his tired body into right now. An earthy, heavy scent, cleansing his mind and his lungs.

For the first time in years, there’s no underlying need for the artificial high that has kept his head over water and simultaneously pulled him under.

“We need to clean you up,” you say, eyeing his bloody shirt again.

You lead him up a wooden staircase, creaks accompanying his every step, and into a small bathroom. The light from a round window reflects off forest green tiles, mesmerizing him. You fill up a bathtub, adding oils from little glass bottles, until a herbal scent is wafting around him.

Carefully, you help him strip off his clothes down to his underwear. Lifting his arms hurts like hell and he sucks in a harsh breath when his shirt unsticks from the open wound on his left. Some of the pain eases as soon as he sinks down into the warm water, a grateful sigh falling from his lips. You smile at that, a small, timid thing, and he wants to keep looking at you, wants to make you smile again, but you settle on the stone floor at his back, pushing down on his shoulders until most of his body is submerged.

With a cloth, you start on his face, cleaning off mud and dried blood, so gently that it barely stings when you touch scratches on his skin. You move on to his hair, letting him lean back, your fingers massaging over his scalp, easing the tension, the worry that he’s carrying around with him. Finally, you probe at his rips under the water’s surface, fingertips dancing over the open wound there. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it feels less heavy, less biting somehow.

Your hands trace over the scars littering his torso in gentle touches, soothing phantom pains that have long passed. “I’m sorry about these,” he thinks he hears you say, so quietly that he’s not sure if the words were meant for him to understand.

“‘s not your fault,” he murmurs, his eyelids drooping shut once more as he sinks deeper into the warm water.

He awakens surrounded by soft white bedding, a wooden ceiling with exposed beams over his head and the light of early sunrise falling into the room, painting it golden. He stretches without thinking, only a sting at his ribcage reminding him of the day before.

It all feels like he’s walking through a dream, one too beautiful to disturb. So, he doesn’t wonder how he came here, who you are, why you seem to know him, how you seemingly healed most of his injuries simply by giving him a bath. If this is what an actual dream feels like, not the nightmares he usually has, he doesn’t want to wake up.

Everything feels easy, here, with you. There don’t seem to be any clocks in the cottage, so he has no idea what time it is, but it must be early morning. Still, he finds you in a small garden behind the house, tending to vegetables that you’re growing there.

He feels your gaze flying over him, like you’re checking what state he’s in. Then, with a smile, you start explaining what you’re doing. Which plants to water, which vegetables are ready to be harvested. He works alongside you, naturally, like he’s always done this. It feels good, using his hands and body like this. Growing something, helping someone, doing good.

He follows you to the small kitchen, watches you prepare things, storing them in a pantry. You explain which herbs you are growing in small pots on a windowsill, handing them to him one by one to let him smell them.

The sun is rising higher, warming the air floating in through the open backdoor. You take his hand and pull him outside again, walking down an invisible path through the green fields surrounding the cottage. Bees are buzzing in the wildflowers around you and the sheep are bleating occasionally, watching the two of you with curious eyes, but not coming closer to investigate.

You’re wearing a dress again, the skirt flowing around your ankles in the light breeze and the sunlight illuminating your figure as you skip a few steps ahead of him. Frankie can’t help himself, picking a few of the flowers and handing them to you. His heart almost cracks at your wide smile when he gives them to you, your fingertips grazing his.

Back at the cottage, you put them into a vase on the kitchen counter, the flowery scent mixing with the house’s earthy notes in no time. It’s a small thing, but in a way, it's a trace of his presence here. It’s almost scary how much Frankie likes that thought.

It becomes a routine, as easy as breathing. The two of you taking care of the garden first thing in the morning, then a walk through the fields. The sheep start coming closer, even though they don’t let him pet them the way they do with you. He barely hurts anymore, the wound at his side almost completely healed.

In the evenings, you make tea from the herbs that you’re growing. Frankie has never liked tea, always proud to be a black coffee guy, but this one is different. It calms him, slows his thoughts down and fills him with a peace he didn’t know life had to offer. And it’s something that you made. For him, to care for him.

One night, you’re both sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames and listening to them crackling. He starts telling you about his past, about all the regrets that haunt him. About the men that he’s killed, about all the pain and sadness that he’s responsible for. About the woman and child that he abandoned, all to chase a high that he knew was unreachable.

He feels lighter, afterwards, like a shadow has lifted from his heart. You take his hand and rest it on your thigh. Your fingertip dances over his open palm, drawing delicate shapes over the calloused lines of his skin.

“All the violence it took you to become this gentle,” you sigh.

Your smile is sad, and he wants to kiss it off your lips. He’s never felt gentle one day in his life, has always been made of brute force and rough edges, but here, with you, he thinks you might be right.

With every passing day, the peace seeps deeper into his bones. Maybe it’s not a dream. Maybe everything that happened before was the dream, a nightmare, and he finally woke up.

That evening, you’re singing while preparing dinner. He puts down his knife and the potatoes he’s been chopping and takes your hand instead. You grin at him, still singing as he sways the both of you around to the melody. His heart aches at the sound of your laugh.

He pulls you closer, leaning in, eyes darting to your lips. For a second, he could swear that you’re moving towards him too. Then you sigh, one hand coming up to rest on his chest, stopping him. He freezes.

“Frankie, you— We can’t. You can’t stay here”

Suddenly, his whole body feels cold.

“Why not? I want to be here. With you.”

Under other circumstances, he’d be ashamed of the whine in his voice.

“Your time hasn’t come yet.”

“What do you mean, my time hasn’t—”

Tears well up in your eyes. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip.

“I’ve already kept you longer than I should have. I’m sorry, Frankie. You have more life to live. I’ll protect you, just like I have before.”

Before he can say another word, before he can even attempt to understand, your arms wrap around him. Your lips sink down onto his, just as soft as he imagined, just as sweet.

Then, everything dissolves. The stone walls around him, the setting sun through the window, the scent of herbs and fresh flowers. It leaves only the feel of your warm body, your lips on his. Until that disappears, too.

His eyes fly open, seeing nothing at first. Sound erupts around him like an explosion. Blurry shapes move in his periphery. The air is thick with smoke, his ears are ringing. His mouth tastes of blood. Hands are frantically pulling at him, moving him, shouting at him, around him, in words that he can’t make out.

It’s like he’s watching, barely present in his body as someone feels his wrist for a pulse, shines a light into his eyes, checks his body for injuries. He doesn’t understand. He was good, he was healing. He was at peace.

His body is limp as he gets strapped onto a stretcher. They may be talking to him, he thinks.

“He must’ve had a guardian angel,” someone next to him says.

Frankie isn’t listening. He’s scanning the treeline, the landscape around him. It was all right here, the sheep, the meadow.

It’s like you’re still right there, the phantom of your presence next to him, but he can’t see you anymore. Just like it was before, he could swear he hears you whisper.

thank you so much for reading <3 as always, comments and reblogs are love, i'm so excited to hear what you think!

and check out this gorgeous art piece by @millersblud 🫶🏻

#janas fics #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader

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slutforvoldy · 2 months ago

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“ ILLICIT AFFAIRS. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: an illicit affair between the reader and lando spirals into heartbreak, leaving behind only stolen moments and broken promises.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: angst, infidelity, taylor swift references, mentions of y/n.

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

IT WAS WRONG. You knew it was very wrong. To be someone’s forbidden fruit—a mistress. You knew the risks and the consequences of your impulsive actions. Yet, you felt no ounce of regret.

You hated yourself.

You hated how you let yourself sink into this.

You hated how you kept falling into bed with him, knowing he belonged to someone else. A wife, even.

You hated how selfish you had become.

You told yourself you could stop anytime. But you never did. Maybe it was the thrill. The secrecy. The pleasure. The stolen moments that made you feel wanted.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. You never wanted this to happen. But with Lando Norris, it all felt too good.

It all began at a Formula 1 afterparty—a world of dazzling lights and champagne-fueled celebrations. One glance across the crowded room, and your eyes met with a pair of green eyes staring right back at you.

And somehow, that's how your story started.

You started sneaking around, making excuses, whispering lies to those who asked where you were, telling them you'd be going out for a "run." In reality, you were having sex in the backseat of his car.

Months passed.

Secret meetings. Stolen glances at parties. Midnight rendezvous that left you breathless. Every whispered promise, every fleeting moment of passion made you fall deeper for the British guy.

You craved the rush.

The way his gaze burned into yours across a crowded room.

The way he said your name, like it was the only thing that mattered.

The way his touch ignited something in you—something dangerous, something irresistible.

And then, one morning, everything changed.

“Let’s talk. 4 PM”

The formality of the message sent a wave of unease through you. Something was wrong. You felt it in your bones.

But you ignored the warning bells and went anyway.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

Lando’s voice was steady, but the weight behind his words crushed you. He leaned back in the dimly lit café—the place that had become your hidden world.

Your breath hitched. Your mind raced, scrambling for an explanation.

How could he say this so easily?

What happened to all the promises?

And most importantly,

Why now?

“W-what?” Of all the things you wanted to say, that was all you could manage.

“Baby, don’t—”

“Don’t call me baby!”You snapped, your voice raw with heartbreak.

Lando shut his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“You made me look like an idiotic fool,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Look at me, Lando. Look at this godforsaken mess that you made of me!” You cried out, not even noticing the sorrowful tears that you shed.

“I love you, Lando…” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. For the first time, you said it aloud.

For the first time, it felt real.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked at you like he might say it back.

The silence between the two of you was so loud. It was deafening. Just the two of you gaping at each other.

But then he looked away, feeling ashamed.

“I’m going to be a father, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a crashing wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your body went cold.

Your heart shattered.

Silence stretched between you. The air felt suffocating.

You had no right to be jealous. No right to be angry. You were just the mistress. The secret. The sin.

He would always choose her. You should have known.

You should have seen this coming.

It was your fault for believing his empty words.

Stupid, stupid girl.

“I hope you understand… my family needs me,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You remembered the times when you would lay against his chest, naked under the bedsheets, with him muttering sweet words against your ear, and you giggling while you were wrapped around his arms.

“I love you,” he had whispered before. “I can’t wait to be with you forever.”

“But what about your wife?” You asked looking up, doe eyed and staring at his green eyes. His green eyes that started all this mess.

“Does it matter?” he had murmured, brushing a kiss over your lips. “I’ll always love you. No matter what.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Lies.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, Y/N. I really valued these months with you," he said now, as if his words could soften the inevitable goodbye.

You let out a hollow laugh. "So, that’s it?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

You stared at him, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers fidgeted, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say more.

But he wouldn’t.

And even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.

For the first time, you truly understood what you were to him.

A secret. A mistake. A fleeting indulgence that he could afford to leave behind.

You inhaled sharply, forcing a smile onto your lips—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"Have a good life, Norris."

His jaw tensed. He gave you one last look, something unreadable in his expression.

“I love you, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You clenched your fists. “You’re making this harder. Just go, Lando. Please.”

A heavy sigh escaped him before he stood. The rustling of his clothes filled the silence.

You watched him walk away.

You watched him glance back at you.

You watched him leave.

And just like that, it ended the way it started—

Stolen glances filled with unspoken words.

Only this time, they clung to the remnants of their so-called love.

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aionue-writes · 22 days ago

Text

Obviously • Milo Manheim

Summary: y/n hadn’t been coping since the breakup and everyone could tell. so she went out with the girls to try and clear her mind but it doesn’t exactly go as planned

Song rec - Hits different by Taylor swift

The girls’ night out had started the way they all hoped it would—filled with laughter, loud music, and the sweet sting of cocktails. Payton, Rainbow, and Sarah had practically dragged Y/n out, determined to pull her from the wreckage of her heartbreak. They wanted her to feel alive again, to remind her that she wasn’t just the girl who cried in the bathtub to Love Is a Losing Game every night since Milo left.

For a while, it worked.

The drinks were strong, the music was loud, and for a few fleeting hours, Y/n almost believed she could forget.

Until the inevitable happened.

"So," Rainbow started cautiously, swirling her drink. "How are things with...you know, Milo?"

The name alone sent a ripple through Y/n’s chest. Her forced smile wobbled for just a second before she steadied herself. "I don’t want to talk about him tonight."

"Good," Payton said firmly. "Because tonight is about fun. No sadness, no exes—Milo’s name is officially off-limits."

They clinked glasses, a silent agreement to leave the past where it belonged. But as Y/n threw back her drink and let the burn settle in her throat, she knew—forgetting wasn’t as easy as they made it sound.

Hours later, the alcohol had done its job, numbing the edges of her heartbreak. The beat of the music pulsed through her veins, and before she knew it, she was on the dance floor, swaying, laughing, existing.

That’s when she saw him.

Not him—not Milo.

A stranger. A handsome guy at the bar, watching her with interest.

She let him.

One drink led to another, and suddenly, his lips were on hers. She let it happen, let him pull her close, let herself believe for a fraction of a second that this was what moving on looked like.

But the second his lips met hers, nausea rolled through her. Not from the alcohol.

It was wrong. The touch, the taste, the feel of him against her—none of it was right. None of it was Milo.

She yanked herself away, muttering an apology before stumbling towards the bathroom, her breath coming fast and uneven.

The second she locked the door behind her, she crumbled, mascara staining her cheeks.

"Y/n?" Payton’s voice came from outside, gentle but firm.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared at her reflection in the mirror, her red-rimmed eyes and smeared lipstick a stark reminder that no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t escape him.

With shaking hands, she opened the door.

Payton took one look at her and sighed. "Let’s go home."

The air outside was sharp and sobering as they walked to meet Jacob, Payton’s boyfriend, who was picking them up. Y/n scrolled absently through her phone, her vision blurry, fingers clumsy.

And then she saw it.

Milo’s Instagram story.

It was nothing—just a set photo, a behind-the-scenes shot of him sitting next to her. A girl Y/n didn’t know. A girl who wasn’t her.

The impact was immediate. Her stomach twisted violently, her breath hitched—before she even had time to process it, she was doubling over, throwing up on the sidewalk.

"Jesus," Rainbow gasped, pulling her hair back. "Okay, we’re done for the night."

They kept walking, Y/n wiping her mouth, her body shaking. And then, as if the universe hadn’t been cruel enough, they passed by a bar blasting their song. "You belong with me."

She broke.

Sobbing, clutching onto Payton as the weight of everything she had been trying to suppress came crashing down.

The girls tried to soothe her, tried to say all the right things. But nothing felt right. Nothing felt right.

She whispered his name through her tears, slurring it like a prayer, like a curse.

By the time they reached Jacob, she was still crying. He didn’t say a word, just opened the car door and let her in while the others talked outside. Y/n curled into herself in the backseat, silent tears streaming down her face as she stared out the window, lost in a storm of memories she couldn’t seem to outrun.

When she got home, she found them.

The artifacts.

A hoodie he left behind, the ticket stub from their first movie together, the stupid baseball cap he always wore but never took back.

She sat on the floor, holding the cap in her lap, tears slipping down her face.

"He was the one," she whispered to no one. "I loved him. And he just...left."

Payton sat beside her, leaning her head against Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n let out a shaky, bitter laugh. "You know, this is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy."

Payton smiled sadly. "Bet you could still melt his world. His argumentative, antithetical dream girl."

Y/n just sniffled, closing her eyes. "I dream about him, you know?" she whispered. "His hair, his stare, the way he used to believe in me."

Payton squeezed her hand. "Maybe he still does."

The next morning, Y/n lay in bed, eyes swollen from crying, heart still aching.

And then—

The key in the lock.

Her breath hitched.

Her heart pounded.

Milo?

She shot up in bed, staring at the door down the hall, waiting, waiting, waiting

But it wasn’t him.

Of course, it wasn’t.

She collapsed back into her pillows, fresh tears burning her eyes.

Until her phone rang.

Her heart stopped.

It was him.

With trembling fingers, she answered.

A beat of silence.

And then, his voice, raw and quiet.

"I miss you."

Silence hung between them, thick and heavy, stretching across the distance that neither of them could seem to cross.

Y/n swallowed hard, gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles ached. Her breath felt uneven, like she’d just run a marathon, but she hadn’t moved an inch.

"I miss you."

Two simple words. Ones she’d wanted—no, needed—to hear for weeks.

But now that she had, she didn’t know what to do with them.

She let out a slow, shaky breath. "You don’t get to say that, Milo."

A pause. Then, a quiet sigh on the other end. "I know.

"Then why did you?" Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for it.

"Because it’s true."

She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers trembling around the phone. "No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to walk away and then—then call me in the morning like I’m supposed to just—" She broke off, biting her lip so hard she nearly tasted blood.

"Y/n…" His voice was softer now, pleading in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before.

"Why are you calling me, Milo?"

Another pause. She could hear him breathing, like he was debating what to say.

"Because I can’t stop thinking about you."

A tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily. "That’s not fair."

"I know."

"You always do this," she whispered. "You always come back just enough to make it hurt again."

"I don’t mean to."

"But you do."

Another beat of silence. Then, quietly—"Did you see it?"

She knew exactly what he meant. The photo. The girl. The thing that sent her spiraling into the worst night of her life.

"Yeah," she admitted, voice small.

Milo exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath.

"It wasn’t—she’s no one, Y/n. Just a co-star. It was just set stuff, you know that."

"That doesn’t change how it felt."

"I know," he murmured. "I hated it too, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn’t."

Another long pause. She could picture him now—probably running a hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched the way it always did when he was frustrated.

"You’re still mad at me," he said finally.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Of course I’m mad, Milo. You broke my heart."

The words hung between them, heavy and painful.

His voice was barely a whisper. "I know."

She closed her eyes, hating how much she wanted to believe that he regretted it.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, voice raw.

She heard him inhale, then exhale slowly. "Because I was scared."

She frowned. "Of what?"

"Of how much I loved you."

Her breath caught.

"Of how much I still love you," he corrected.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to hold in the sob that threatened to escape. "Milo…"

"I know I don’t deserve to say it," he admitted. "Not after what I did. But I—God, Y/n, I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine anymore."

Her heart ached so badly she thought it might shatter completely. "You let me go."

"I thought it was the right thing to do," he confessed. "I thought—I don’t even know what I thought. I just know that I was wrong."

She let out a shaky breath. "Do you think that just saying this fixes everything?"

"No," he said immediately. "I don’t. I know I have no right to ask for anything. But I had to call. I had to hear your voice."

Tears slipped down her face, one after another.

She didn’t know what to say.

"I miss you," he said again, softer this time. "And I know I don’t deserve you, but if there’s even a chance—if there’s anything left—"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Milo."

"Do you still love me?"

It was the question she’d been dreading.

The answer sat heavy on her tongue, waiting.

And the worst part?

She already knew it.

“Obviously”

#milo manheim x y/n #milo manheim x you #milo manheim x reader #milo manheim #wally clark x you #wally clark x y/n #wally clark x reader #wally clark #school spirits

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ssweeterthanfiction · 3 months ago

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Hii, I'm new here but I loved your profile!!

Can you do a fanfic of finnick?As if he and the reader had met at one of the capital's parties? And she's from the same district as him and unfortunately she's also used by Snow.

hello my lovely and welcome!!

of course I can! you ask and you shall receive!

Gold Rush

finnick odair x victor fem reader content warnings: angst, yearning, mentions of trafficking of victors

masterlist.

The party was in full swing.

Gleaming and glittering lights, the suffocating smell of expensive perfume, the loud chatter of the capitolites filled the hall.

You got lucky tonight, no Capitol citizens wanted your company so you were off the hook for once. But you still had to be here, at this party, in a lavish golden gown. You stood by a wall, observing everything around you, and then your eyes landed on a group of people across the dance floor.

And then your eyes landed on him.

Finnick Odair.

He stood out from the people that surrounded him. His bronze hair that fell into place on his face perfectly, his sea green eyes that twinkled under the light, his boyish smile that made his eyes crinkle with practiced amusement.

He entertained the crowd around him perfectly, the men all laughing, the women clinging onto his every word, their laughter mixed together like a symphony of adoration.

But you could see through it. You could see how he tensed up when one of the women would get too close to him, you could see how his smile would falter for a second and how he would mask it with a smile or a flirty remark, you could see through it all.

As you kept watching, your eyes met his. For a moment, you felt the world stop.

The gilded walls, the clinking of glasses, the fake laughter, it all melted into nothing. It was just him.

But the feeling came crashing down once one of the women leaned closer to him.

You watched as she draped herself over his arm, you watched as she whispered something to him and as a flicker of discomfort washed over him before he smoothed it over with his charm.

Your heart tightened as you looked away, the familiar ache settling in.

They all wanted him. Everybody wants him.

You want to know what it would be like to love him.

You shifted against the wall, fingers curling around the delicate stem of your champagne glass. You fought back a few tears as your chest tightened again.

No matter what, you knew you couldn't have him. You knew you couldn't love him.

You knew it would be dangerous. Even when you were both back in four, in the comfort of your homes, you knew it would be dangerous.

Unable to stop yourself, you looked back at him.

But he was already looking at you.

His gaze was steady, cutting through the chaos of the room again as if the two of you existed in a world of your own.

But the moment couldn’t last.

The woman from before called out is name and his charming smile slipped effortlessly back into place as he approached her.

You didn't see him much after that. The party continued on, you had to mingle in with the crowd, but your thoughts always came back to him.

It wasn't until the final toast of the evening came.

You were standing in the crowd, watching as everyone clamored to find a partner to toast with.

That's when you heard his voice call out your name.

When you turned around, he was standing there holding two glasses in his hand.

"Finnick, hello" you say, nodding politely.

"Do you have anyone to toast with?" he says, taking a step towards you.

You shake your head.

"Well," he starts, holding out a glass to you, smiling, "Now you do"

You feel your heart skip a beat, "What about...the woman from earlier?"

He shrugs, "What about her?"

You smile, and nervously take the glass from his hand.

You both stand together as the host gives the final toast to end the party.

Once he finishes, everyone cheers.

You turn to Finnick, clink glasses, intertwine arms and drink the gold liquid.

Your eyes never leave each other's as you do.

You both stand there for a moment as the crowd disperses, gazing into each other's eyes. His eyes are so warm, so inviting. He opens his mouth to say something, but then he hears the woman from earlier call out his name.

He turns his attention to her, and you look down.

"You should go, Finnick" you whisper, not looking him in the eye.

He looks down at you and sighs.

Before he fully turns away from you, he leans close to your ear.

"You look beautiful by the way..."

You finally pick your head up as he walks away. Your fingers tightened again around the empty glass in your hand as you watched him weave his way through the dispersing crowd, his every movement graceful, yet burdened with a heaviness only you seemed to notice.

You finally made your way outside of the party, where everyone was saying their goodbyes and good nights. You were about to leave, you stood in the cool night air, thoughts of Finnick still rushing through your mind.

You felt someone's shoulder brush against you, before you could move, you felt the person squeeze your hand.

You looked up and Finnick was standing beside you.

The woman from earlier was draped on his arm, you felt a pit in your stomach form because you knew what she was with Finnick for.

He didn't look at you, he just held your hand as the woman leaned closer to him.

The woman tugged on his arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. "Finnick, darling, we really must go. I have the most wonderful surprise waiting for you," she cooed, her voice syrupy sweet.

You felt him squeeze yours one last time before he let go.

The pit in your stomach grew more as you watched him walk away.

You knew it was stupid to want to know how it would be to love him.

But it hasn't stopped you in the past, and it will never stop you now.

part 2…

#isa’s thoughts #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #thg finnick #finnick fanfic #finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick oneshot #finnick x y/n #finnick odair angst #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg finnick odair #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you

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ssparksflyy · 3 months ago

Text

jason grace dating headcanons ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing jason grace x daughter of hera!reader warnings none i think this ones pretty much all fluff unless your uncomfortable with marriage and children lol an i have a whole yap on how i think children of hera are created here if u wanna check it out cause im quite proud of it ꈍ◡ꈍ , requested !!

alexa play so high school by taylor swift pretty pls ‹𝟹

my bad just had to set the mood before i talked about THE CUTEST COUPLE EVERRRRRR

jason dating a daughter of hera would just be so like cliche classic romance that everybody longs for

a timeless love if you will

youd think that your parents arguments and bickers would have some sort of effect on your relationship but you just dont care LMFAO

well i mean like your relationship with your mother is probably pretty good and stable (you know, for a relationship with a greek god) and i truly do think that hera would be caring torwards her demigod children cause those are her kids and they dont have a stinky man for a father

but your parents really dont have much of an effect on your lives because your relationship is something you developed and worked on together, and it has nothing to do with them

you first met jason when he crash landed on the shore of chb with piper and leo, but didnt really speak to him at first

but he DEFINITELY wished you did

cause the second the crowd swarmed him and he locked eyes with you, oh boy

SMITTEN

actually standing there with his mouth open

he wouldve spoken to you sooner if he didnt feel like his insides were being flipped at the mere thought of you

but you did end up speaking literally the day before he left for his quest

you had moved over to his table during dinner to wish him luck and find out a bit more about this quest

but you ended up taking for the entire night, hitting it off immediately and ending the night with him walking you to your cabin door with the excuse of "my legs are dragging me in the wrong direction!"

and when he returned from his quest, you were the first person he talked to about it

he literally went into full detail just so he'd have an excuse to talk to you longer (but left out the part where leo threatened to dump him into the ocean if he didn't shut up about you)

i feel like during your whole 'friends but you it doesn't feel like your actual friends and you can kinda tell you both want something more' era, jason is definitely making all the efforts to extend the conversation, spend more time with you, and to get to know you better while youre the one dropping more subtle hints that you want something more (which have him staring at his wall at 3 am questioning EVERYTHING)

i hate to drag things on longer than the should but guys... you dont get together until AFTER the quest of the 7 (well 8 cause surprise shawtay! you spent months on a boat fighting the tension between you and jason ‹𝟹) and even then it takes a few months full of you dropping heavy hints, the contemplation to make the first move, and countless amounts of teasing from your friends for him to FINALLY ask you if you'd let him be your boyfriend

thankfully from there, things just began to flow easily :)

you went on dates pretty often, but at some point you stopped considering them to be dates because you spend so much time together and its a bit difficult to come up with something original in a summer camp

but once you eventually move out of chb (jason moved camps to be with you) and into your apartments (not shared cause we need some space), you both made sure you were both coming up with unique ideas and planned dates frequently :)

jason ends up working a job in finance (trust fund, 6'5, blue eyes), while you did... well wtv u want queen !!

honestly life further on out is so peaceful and simple between you two, any issues you face you always work them out together

communication is so big between you two likeeee

not even only if you get into arguments and stuff, but just like in general

you talk about everything, know everything about each other, the yap sesh never ends between you guys ‹𝟹

you probably dont move in together until after youre married, which honestly bro ... biggest occasion ever

i cant lie and be like 'oh you just did something peaceful in a garden with friends ‹𝟹' nah yall went ALL OUT

youve been dreaming about your wedding since you were a kid (it comes with the parentage bro) and jason views giving you a big wedding as a way to really express your love for each other (and he gets to spoil u hehe)

he goes all out to propose too btw, like asks your closest friends from camp what your ideal proposal is and goes through with it

but yea after marriage? your life becomes practically perfect with the beginning of your family and live together forever nd ever ‹𝟹

not to say stuff gets boring like ur kids? some of the most random childrento ever walk the earth like theres always SOMETHING happening with them

and you and jason dont allow yourselves to go boring either, you stay communicating and working out different ways to showcase your affection for each other

you guys stay really close with your friends and always have them over for dinner and such ‹𝟹 (GUYS THE SEVEN ARE FOUND FAMILY IDGAFFFFF)

but yeah you continue to live in your happily ever after little fairy tale for ever n ever n ever ‹𝟹

#wowie this have been sitting in my drafts for a while #but shes finally been released !!#jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#whos the cute boy with the wide blue eyes? ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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mariasont · 11 months ago

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hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees.

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace.

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did.

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face.

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified.

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body.

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding.

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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blushsturns · 10 days ago

Text

₊˚⊹ there was one thing missing and that was the moment i knew

title: the moment i knew

word count: 1417

warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, all the sad stuff

And what do you do when the one

Who means the most to you

Is the one who didn't show?

Today was finally the day–your birthday. It only comes once a year, so it should be a special day full of exciting fun and surprises. It was a day that was all about you without the feeling of selfishness. For your birthday, you wanted to have dinner with all of your loved ones–including your boyfriend, Matt.

Things have been rocky between the two of you. You weren’t sure if it was miscommunication, or the fact that he was simply losing feelings for you. You didn’t like to overthink anything, but it was hard not to when the last month all you two have been doing is bickering back and forth so much you weren’t even sure what you were fighting about anymore.

It was almost like he was fighting against you and not for you, and your relationship anymore. You’ve been trying to do everything you possibly could to keep the relationship alive, but nothing seemed to be working.

He wasn’t coming home as often as usual. You two shared an apartment in the city and when you first moved in, it felt like home. Now? You dreaded going home, feeling the emptiness without Matt there and when he was there, things felt different like you were walking on eggshells in your own home.

Matt was really busy, working on his own project and filming a lot with his brothers and would end up crashing at his brother’s place rather than coming home to you. When he was home, the bickering would ensue and he’d slam the door, leaving you standing there in the middle of the floor with tears spilling down your cheeks. You didn’t get an apology, any effort to fix anything. He’d take the easy way out, by leaving you in the middle of an argument. Sometimes, he’d come back the next day and apologize and act like nothing ever happened, but the wounds you had were still opened and hurt you to the core.

But to keep him around? You swallowed your pain like you were a brave solider fighting for battle and had no choice but to keep fighting. For yourself, or for your relationship, you weren’t sure at this point.

The week before your birthday, he was out working on his solo project separate from his brothers’ when you asked him if he wanted to come to your birthday party. You felt silly asking–he was your boyfriend. Shouldn’t he already be expected to come considering you should be special to him?

“I’ll be there.” Matt said on the other end of the phone, rustling sounds in the background. “Don’t worry.”

You had let out a soft sigh on the other end, unsure if he could hear it, but didn’t really care whether he did or not. “Matt, are you absolutely sure? It’s just going to be a party with some of our friends and family. I’d love for you to be there.”

“‘I’ll be there.” Matt said on the other end of the phone. “I’ll make sure of it.”

All you could do was take his word for it and believe him. In all honesty, you hadn’t spent much time with him the last couple weeks. He’d come home and pass out on the couch, obviously exhausted from all the work he was putting on himself, but maybe part of it was avoiding you and the issues of the relationship as well.

Here you are now, at your birthday party with all of your loved ones, besides the one who meant the most to you. Christmas lights twinkled around you, music playing throughout the speakers. Quite a decent amount of people were all scattered around the room mingling together in conversation and laughter.

It was your birthday–your special day, so why didn’t you feel very special? Your loved ones came up to you, pulling you into a hug and making small talk to catch up, but you weren’t too invested in the conversation. Your eyes kept darting back to the front door, hoping to see Matt walk into the party, but each time someone else walked into the door, you were left with utter disappointment.

You were glad your loved ones made it to the party, but Matt still didn’t show. You had sent him several text messages in the last couple hours and hadn’t heard anything back.

A soft sigh emitted from your lips as you look down at the pretty party dress you bought yourself and the heels to match that complimented your legs. Despite how shitty you felt inside, you never looked better on the outside. Your red lipstick looked amazing, and you got so many compliments on how beautiful you looked. As nice as the compliments were, there was only one person you wanted to impress and so far, they hadn’t shown.

Time is ticking. Before you know it, everyone will be gathered around to sing happy birthday, and you didn’t want to have to do that without Matt. You kept telling yourself there was still time. There was still a possibility that he could walk right into those doors any minute.

As each minute passed, it felt like hours. People came up to you to ask how you were and how things have been. Of course, you put on your best smile and smiled through your lies–you were fine, things were great, everything was going well. All of it was a lie. You weren’t fine, things weren’t great, and nothing was going right.

They asked about Matt–how he was, what he’s been up to, where he was. You didn’t know what to say besides smile through all of the lies you were telling them.

The speakers began playing one of Matt’s favorite songs and that’s when you felt yourself begin to fall apart. Your eyes began to fill with tears, your body started to tremble, and you could barely even find the right breathing pattern. Your chest ached as you stared at those same doors–hoping he’d show up.

Your friends noticed you weren’t okay–immediately coming to your side when the tears became visible. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you blinked them away, looking over at your friends and the concerned look on their faces. You tried so hard to keep it inside, to not let those emotions show on the outside. You were always the one with a smile on your face, your personality so bubbly and infectious, but this was affecting you greatly–how could it not? You were always so strong, but you could feel yourself falling apart.

They follow you down the hall to the bathroom and once you step inside, you fall apart. You stand there, tears spilling down your cheeks as you watch your friends try to console you, hugging you and asking you what’s wrong.

After several minutes of choked sobs and your body trembling you were finally able to speak. “He said he’d be here.” You cried out your words, your makeup practically smeared against your cheeks.

Your friends told you things you knew they would like “You deserve better”, “He’s an asshole”, and “I’m so sorry”, but unfortunately nothing they said could take away the aching pain in your chest. It was the first time you actually felt your heart breaking into pieces.

When you walked back to the party, he still wasn’t there. It was time to sing happy birthday to you and honestly, you weren’t up for it, but everyone else showed up for you, so you had to hold it together for now.

You were the center of attention, the beautiful, towered cake in front of you with candles in it as everyone around you sang happy birthday, but you weren’t smiling, you weren’t happy–far from it.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you blew out the candles. Of course, you wished for something you knew wouldn’t come true, but you did it anyway.

He should’ve been there. It would’ve made you so damn happy.

The phone call comes in later that night when you’re home alone lying in bed, your heart aching in your chest. You didn’t even bother to take off your dress as you laid there, your makeup smeared all over your cheeks.

“Matt.” Was all you said as you answered the call.

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make it. I-”

You cut him off immediately, shaking your head in disbelief even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

And that was the moment you knew.

You two were over, for good.

notes: i know this was a sad one. i wanted to write some angst and heard this song recently and got inspired. if you have any ideas for me, please send them my way! love you guys. -n

taglist: @strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rcameronlova1 @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @harls-sturn @whore4chris @slvtf0rchr1s @tits4matt @ikyoudreamofme @sophsturns

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets fic #blushsturnsღ

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scorpioriesling · 4 months ago

Text

What Happens on NYE…

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, Tamlin x Reader

Warning(s): none

Summary: Each of the ACOTAR males paired with reader of you were to attend a NYE celebration with any of them. <3

SR’s Note: So… HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! I’ve been so busy & then getting back into the swing of things — not to mention, becoming really sick as 2024 wraps up. (‘: Not to worry! I have the best friends, family, and hubby that have been taking the most care of me. I know I’ve been lacking, especially with the Invisible String series — so allow me to feed y’all tonight, at least a little bit!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

“Sweetheart, what’s got you so… preoccupied?”

You sigh, turning your attention away from the drink you’d been studying to meet your husband’s gaze.

“I just… I’m just so… I don’t know, dear. Preoccupied, like you said.” You chew on your lip, the cranberry juice in your glass doing little to calm your nerves. Around you, Rhysand’s closest friends and family flit about, singing and dancing and drunkenly laughing with one another. Usually, you’d be right there with them — it’s felt like ages since you’d had a stiff drink last.

“Darling,” he coos, his hand sliding against yours as he takes your glass from you. “Whatever is there to worry for?”

Just then, a large crash sounds from the room adjacent — and your husband pulls you close to his chest out of instinct. When you lock eyes again, he chuckles.

“Why don’t we—“ he sets your glass down on the kitchen table. “… go somewhere more, private, hm?” You nod, a small smile forming on your lips as his hand wraps protectively around yours waist. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, his next words holding a smile of their own.

“Ahh, now there’s that beautiful smile I love so much.”

He walks with you to the terrace, quietly opening the doors and stepping outside with you. The cool breeze of the night feels wonderful against your skin, which only grew warmer by the minute.

“A new dress tonight, hm?”

You grab the loose fabric of the skirts, swishing it back and forth. He leans against the railing as the light of the moon reflects off of his silky black hair.

“Yes — do you like it?” He nods, scanning you up and down.

“I love it, dear. I must say, I’ve never seen you in a style like this.” He takes your hand, pulling you close to him once more. The light of the ever rising moon makes the band on his ring finger gleam.

“Well… it is New Year’s eve, after all.” You fake a confident smile. It was true — you usually went for more form-fitting gowns, or ones that at least showed off your assets… but this occasion was, well… different.

“It’s nearly midnight, you know.” Rhys points out, his gaze fixing on the moon above. You nod quietly, preparing for the clock to strike twelve.

“Anything you want to leave behind this year? To not bring into the new year with you?” He asks. You chew your lip again, not sure how to answer. You’d prepared and practiced for weeks, yet now it felt as though no amount of preparation could have helped you for this moment.

Rhys shrugs after a moment. “I, for one, would like to leave any bad vibes behind now,” he pauses, listening and chuckling as Cassian belts out a line from the newest Taylor Swift song inside. You can’t help but laugh too as he says, “… and, maybe Cassians singing.”

The lighthearted moment eases you for only a second, a mere glimpse of time before you must work to steady your mind again. You realize, going into the new year, with the husband you have — this is exactly, the right moment, and nothing would make it more perfect.

“I, have something I’d like to bring with us into the new year, rather.” You say, and Rhys looks out as fireworks burst among the stars, cheering through all of Velaris heard from where the two of you stood. As you gazed upon the side of your gorgeous husbands face, you took a deep breath and just said it.

“Rhys, I’m pregnant.”

He slowly turns to you, his joyous expression morphing into surprise as he gazes into your tear-filled eyes.

“W-what?” You don’t think you’d ever heard the High Lord of the Night Court stutter. “Did you say-“

“I’m pregnant,” you say again, more confidently. His eyes grow larger, his hands taking yours as his lips curl into a wide grin.

“You’re… oh Gods, we’re…” he laughs breathily, almost in disbelief.

“We’re having a baby, Rhys!” You beam, and he instantly swoops you into his arms, spinning you around in the light of the firework streaked sky.

“We’re having a baby!” He shouts joyously, gently setting you down to take your face in his hands and pull you into a deep kiss. When he releases you, he stares down at you in pure joy, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“My darling, you’re going to make such a wonderful mother.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Cassian

You bend in half, laughing so hard your stomach begins to tighten. Eyes squeezed shut, you try to regain your composure — but what your boyfriend said was just so. Damn. Funny.

“Cass… you’re truly a comedian,” Mor giggles from beside you, her hand resting on your shoulder. When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is your handsome man’s face alight with a smile.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles, taking yet another sip of his beer. His gaze settles on you as he slides a hand around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing you on the head. “That’s how I got this one, yeah?”

Mor laughs again, and you blush as you lean into his strong frame. Strong, but a little wobbly under the influence of all the alcohol he’d consumed tonight.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Mor hiccups. “…to convince yourself worthy of such a gorgeous girl.” She winks, and you reach a swaying arm for her.

“Awwwh, Mor,” you say, as she stumbles a bit before standing upright. “You’re such a good friend!” There was a million better things you could’ve said, but in your intoxicated state, that’s all you could come up with.

“Oh my gosh!” The blonde squeals. “It’s starting!”

Everyone’s attention turns to the widescreen, the DJ cutting the music as the number 10 flashes on the screen.

“Alllllright, Rita’s!” He announces over the mic. “Let’s count down into this new year together tonight, shall we?”

The crowd cheers, beginning the descent from 10 as the numbers flash on the screen. Cassian pulls you closer, and you all but crane your neck to look up at him.

“Six, five, four…”

Cassians hand slides against your jaw, the other holding you to him by the small of your back.

“Three, two…”

“Gods, you are the most beautiful-“

“One, Happy New Year!”

You don’t even let the crowd get to one, or allow your boyfriend to finish that sweet sentiment before you press up into your tip-toes and smush your lips onto his. His grip tightens, almost lifting you off the floor as his mouth drunkenly devours yours. When you finally do pull away, he smiles softly at you as though it were just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.

“I… truly am,” he whispers. “So, so lucky.”

Then, his mouth is on yours once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Azriel

“Dare!”

Feyre takes another long swig from her glass, giggling as she sets it down in front of her.

“I dare you, Nesta,” she giggles. “To take off your bra, right now!” She cackles, as the group expresses their disbelief.

Through the protests and shocked expressions, Feyre groans over-exaggeratedly.

“Oh come on,” she whines. Nesta reaches behind her back, working to unhook the clasps.

“Yeah — it’s nothing you’ve never seen before.” She triumphantly yanks her bra free, removing it and tossing it into Cassians lap without so much as untying her gown. Cassian scoffs, feigning annoyance.

“What am I gonna do with this?” He picks it up, beginning to inspect it. Nesta chuckles, sitting up on her knees as she scans the group.

“Hehehe… my turn.” Her steely gray eyes land on you. “Hm. Y/N,” she says, and you feel your heart jump. You never liked truth or dare much anyway, especially not when your crush was involved.

“Truth? Or dare?” She raises an eyebrow.

You gulp. “Umm. Truth, please.”

She grins wickedly, subtly looking between you and Azriel as she pretends to contemplate a question for you.

“Truth, then. Hmm… alright, I’ve got one.” She leans back on her hands, watching as you fidget with yours.

“If you had to pick anyone in this group to kiss tonight, who would you pick?”

Your face heats, and you glare at her. Practically everyone knew of your interest in Azriel, everyone but himself — admitting that now would only be embarrassing.

“Oh… Gods Nesta, uhh…” The tequila from earlier swirls in your stomach, and for once, Azriel looks as though he’s interested in the game again and not the countdown celebration happening beyond the palace walls.

Your eyes meet hers, and she gives you an encouraging look.

“Go on then… name them.”

You swallow, glancing toward Azriel. Grave mistake, he was already looking at you.

Your cheeks deepen their shade of crimson.

“M-maybe… uh, Azriel.”

Nesta shakes her head slowly, that wicked grin only growing. Soft chanting from outside can be heard, the citizens of Velaris participating in the end of year countdown. They’re already at eight when members of the Inner Circle notice how near it is to midnight.

“Guys — it’s almost midnight!” Cassian says giddily, but Nesta keeps her gaze trained on you.

“Prove it.” She says lowly, and you sigh, taking your abandoned glass and throwing back the rest of what was in it.

In an instant, you’re standing, stumbling toward Azriel — your friend, your trainer. Your true love. If only he saw it that way.

“Five, four,” the friend group has engaged in the chanting as well.

Those deep hazel eyes meet yours, his rough hands reaching to help steady you as your friends brush past you for a look out the windows. He cracks a smile, his gently hands bracing against your forearms. You are close, so close — foreheads practically touching as he leans down to peer directly into your eyes.

Behind him, Nesta rises slowly, seeming rather pleased with herself.

“So,” his voice is low and gravelly. “Are you going to prove it?”

You don’t think twice before pressing your lips against his, every point of contact between the two of you sending a million fireworks through you. His lips move, eager for more — you’re happy to oblige.

Behind you, cheering and clapping and the distant sound of fireworks is all drowned out by the sensations taking over you — Azriel’s lips, his hands holding you to his chest… Gods, he smells so good—

He pulls back, breathing heavily as he grins down at you. You chuckle, unsure if the fluttering within is the bubbles from your earlier champagne or perhaps, butterflies.

“I don’t think,” he whispers. Your eyes widen.

“I don’t think you… proved it, enough. Yet.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing him again, his hands sliding around your waist. Just before you loose yourself in the moment, you squint to meet Nesta’s pleased gaze.

“You’re welcome,” she mouths silently.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Lucien

The cold winter air bit into your exposed arms, but you didn’t care. The night had been so cold, you were suprised to find your tears hadn’t frozen right on your face — perhaps, the constant flow kept them streaming down your cheeks instead.

You’d heard rumors of Lucien, your absolute best friend being mated to none other than Elain. Sure, she was beautiful, and kind, and quite perfect really — which was exactly the problem. Everything so right about her, only made you that much more insecure.

If you were honest, you understood why the Mother would choose her for him. Your best friend was perfectly imperfect— he was a beautiful male, that you’d known for years, but he was also selfless, kind, and one of the best people you knew. That’s what made him so special; he truly was, the greatest friend you’d ever made.

Perhaps, that’s why the rumors broke your heart so much. No, he hadn’t mentioned it to you — had he known? Surely he couldn’t have known of your feelings, you’d kept them so buried inside… how deeply you’d cared for him. Loved, him.

“Why?” You whispered, glaring at the night sky above. “Why couldn’t you just let him be with me?” Your voice broke, and you whimpered once more. Tonight was pure Hell — watching him, watching her. You couldn’t blame him, she was gorgeous… and for all your friend had gone through, you only wished for him to be truly happy.

You rested your head on your hands, leaning against the marble ledge of the balcony and crying so hard you didn’t hear the terrace door slide open.

“Y/N?”

Your sniffling seized, and you looked up to meet the horrified gaze of your best friend.

You wiped a hand across your face, looking down to not meet his eye.

“Lucien, please-“ you coughed. “Please, enjoy the party. It’s nearly midnight-“

He was to you in three long strides, sitting beside you on the marble bench and resting a gently hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t care what ever else is going on — what’s wrong, Y/N?” His voice carried so much concern, a wave of fresh tears stung your eyes.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. He rolled his eyes, gripping your shoulders and pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder, your wet tears dripping onto his collar.

“It’s surely not nothing,” he argued, his hand running soothingly over your back. You swallowed, regaining some control before sniffing and peering up into his face.

“It’s…” you tried, your lower lip wobbling. His hand rested against your cheek, a small encouraging smile on his lips.

“You can always tell me anything,” he encourages. You sigh, looking right up into his beautiful face.

“I… I heard, about Elain. And I’m so sorry, Lucien, I shouldn’t be doing this and behaving this way, because I want you to be happy and-“

“Wait wait. Y/N what are you even saying?” He chuckles, his thumb brushing away a fallen tear. Your eyes well up with more as you feel like this may be the last moment you’ll ever have like this, with the man you love most.

“You’re… I heard, about the bond. You, and Elain.” You sniff.

He tosses his head back, his bright laughter splitting the air between you. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he refocuses on you.

“Y/N, come now,” he starts, his hands wrapping around your waist. “If Elain and I were truly mates, don’t you think I’d tell you about it?”

You shrug, glancing down at the stone. “I… I don’t know, I-“

He tuts, tilting your chin to look at him again. Inside, the partygoers begin counting — nearing midnight.

“Oh, Y/N… you really don’t see it, do you?” He shakes his head, gazing down at you. Your bottom lip wobbles as you look to him again.

“I just… I only want you to be happy, Lucien.” He smiles warmly, leaning in as the first firework bursts across the night sky.

“You’re what makes me happy, Y/N.”

He kisses you with so much love and adoration, you hadn’t ever imagined possible. Your fingers thread through his hair as you kiss him back with as much love as you can convey.

All he says when he pulls away is, “I love you, so much, Y/N.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Eris

You sigh as you bring the mug to your lips once more, hoping the caffeinated tea can keep you awake for a little while longer.

“I don’t like this one much,” Eris comments, watching as the girl onstage sings about getting pregnant. You chuckle lazily, setting the mug down and leaning against his shoulder.

“Not a Sabrina fan?” You add playfully, and he moves his arm so you can lay more comfortably against his chest.

“I suppose not,” he says, his arms resting as he lays beneath you on the couch. He yawns, the first telltale sign of his tiredness — you had to admit, it’d been a long day. Between planting new seeds in the orchard (an annual tradition), taking the kids to visit the in-laws and wrangling them into their rooms at the end of the day… yeah. You could say you were quite exhausted.

Eris’ fingers ran along your bare arms nonchalantly as he gazed at the screen, watching Dick Clark chat with Sabrina Carpenter after her NYE performance. Her dress glittered against the city lights, reminding you of the times you and Eris shared celebrating nights like these in the past.

Sighing, you tilted your head to peer up at your mate. The angle of his jaw, so strong — it complimented the angular panes of his face, so strikingly handsome in any light. He must have noticed your stare, as his fingers stilled and he looked down at you with a tired smile.

“What is it, dear?” You sighed, toying with the small bow at the top of your pajama camisole.

After a quiet beat, you replied. “I just… I’m sorry, you know.” His brow raised, his chin tilting so he could look at you more directly. “We don’t… celebrate. Like we used to.”

He chuckles, the movement shifting you as you pressed against his chest.

“Well, my dear… we do have children, you know.” You half-smiled.

“Yes, I am aware — I’m just missing the days we went out, I guess. Me in a glittering gown, just for you, and all that.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. Your husband’s hand began lightly brushing your arm once more, his expression sympathetic.

“I understand, but, there’s nothing to apologize for my love.” You looked up at him, and he gave you a small smile. “I’m grateful we had those times, yes — but I’m even more grateful now. Nights like these are wonderful; they’re everything I want and need. I’m grateful for our children, tiresome as they may be.” You share a giggle, and his hands move to thread through your hair. “But, this, right here, laying on this couch with you on New Year’s eve… I couldn’t possibly want anything else.”

You close your eyes, snuggling closer to him as he continued playing with your hair. You began to drift off, resting peacefully knowing you were going into the new year with the one person who loved you most.

Eris only moved to reach for the remote, turning down the volume as the crowd on the screen began chanting. You stirred, but he could tell you were fast asleep — gazing down at your beautiful face, his heart swelled.

He leaned down as the crowd roared, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Tamlin

“So, are you gonna go talk to him, or what?”

You’d been eyeing the blonde all night, trying (and failing) to keep your staring to a minimum. Naturally, your friend caught on — likely when she noticed the sudden changes in demeanor as he entered the room you were in.

“W-who?” You feigned innocence. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin to the brooding blonde by the mini bar.

“You know who,” she chuckled. “Mystery man?”

Now it was time for you to roll your eyes. “That’s what we’re calling him?”

She smirks. “Well, you haven’t gone and asked his name yet, so yeah. That’s all I’ve got for now.”

You sigh, sipping on the last few ounces of your drink.

“Come on,” she eggs on. “Go over and at least say hi?” She nudges your shoulder. You tip back your glass, swallowing the rest of what was in it. Only when you step forward does she applaud you.

“Shh!” You glare over your shoulder, but your friend only watches with amusement as you nervously make your way toward the bar.

Once you’re within arms reach, you take a deep breath, your gaze meeting the emerald green one you’d been eyeing all evening.

“Uh… h-hi.” You stammer. He raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down before opening his mouth.

“Hi.”

Your lips press into a flat line.

“Uh… what’s your name?” You ask. The butterflies in your stomach threaten to come up your throat, and you swallow hard.

“…Tamlin.”

Your eyebrows raise.

“Like, from the Spring Court?” You squeak. He huffs a laugh.

“Like, yeah.”

Your brows furrow, cheeks heating at his lack of communication skills. You fidget with your fingers, not entirely sure what to say next.

“Is there something I can-“

“Why are you here?” You cut him off. Now he raises his eyebrows, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“No, no uh I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, uhm. Why come to a, uh, party in Autumn if you’re from Spring?” You stutter.

He tips back his glass, setting it on the counter before him before turning to fully face you.

“Friend brought me.” He glances to the room next to you, where Lucien is talking to a group and laughing.

You shrug. “Me too.”

He looks at you near expressionless, leaving you so defeated that you turn to walk away. His hand catches your wrist, and your breath hitches as you whirl around to face him again.

He stares silently for a moment, before pulling you closer to him.

“You’re not here with a… a male?” He asks. You shake your head slowly, and he smirks.

“A shame. For everyone else, but hopefully not me.” Your cheeks darken as you watch his eyes rove over your face, down your neck, over the edge of your top…

“I didn’t come with one,” you choke out. “But, I’m not opposed to leaving with one.” You can’t believe you just said that out loud. He apparently finds it amusing, chuckling as he glances to the clock.

“You’re not above kissing a stranger you just met at a party where you know no one?” He asks, his palms resting on your hips as you stand between his parted knees. You hadn’t noticed how close the clock hand had gotten toward 12, quite literally so distracted by the man in front of you now.

“Are you?” You retort. He smiles, his right hand resting against your jaw.

“Absolutely not.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

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