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mrsfancyferrari · 10 days ago

Note

Hey author,

Loved your work! I have a request for a Max Verstappen fiction. Here's the idea:

Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

The Reader is a badass, known for her fiery press conferences and domination on the court, much like how Max is in racing. Despite being a power couple in front of the world, they are very vulnerable and weak for each other. They know the struggles both have been through—she understands the impact Max's childhood and his father, Jos, have had on him, and he knows the challenges she faces, including attacks and pressures from the media.

They are incredibly supportive of each other. Max attends all her Grand Slam matches, and she visits his races. They are deeply in love and very open with each other, understanding each other's feelings and experiences.

That's the type of story I have in mind. I hope you like it!

Best regards,

Anon.

Power Couple

Summary: Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

Song: Slow Down · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: I hardly had any ideas for this one but I tried my best! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It's messy, chaotic, and punctuated by the sharp thwack of a tennis ball and the roar of a finely tuned engine. It’s the story of you and Max, a whirlwind that started when you were both just fifteen, a story that’s still unfolding in the dazzling glare of the spotlight.

You were fifteen and a force of nature on the tennis court, even back then. Your name was already whispered with respect in junior circuits. You carried a racquet like an extension of your arm, and your focus was so intense it was almost palpable.

That summer, your training brought you to a small, dusty tennis club nestled in the Dutch countryside, a far cry from the manicured lawns of Wimbledon, but the perfect place to hone your craft.

He was there too. Not on the court, but lurking near the chain-link fence, a lanky boy with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a mop of unruly brown hair perpetually falling into his face. You'd noticed him, of course.

How could you not? He was the only teenager there whose attention wasn't glued to the endless practice sessions. Instead, he seemed more interested in the growl of the beat-up scooter he’d arrived on.

One day, during a water break, you were staring down at the worn-out grip on your Wilson when he spoke.

"That's a good shot," he said, his voice still cracking with that awkward teen timbre.

You looked up, surprised, and saw him leaning against the fence, an almost shy smile playing on his lips. "You mean the forehand?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you hadn't quite shaken off.

He shrugged, his eyes dancing with something you couldn't quite place. "I don't know. All of them, I guess? You look like you're trying to kill the ball."

A chuckle escaped you. "It's called intensity."

"Yeah, well, I like it." He pushed off the fence and walked a little closer. "I'm Max."

"You know, I've noticed," you teased, a smirk spreading across your face. "Always lurking by the gate."

His grin widened, making him look younger and somehow much more approachable. "Lurking? I prefer… observing." He paused, then gestured towards your racket. “Do you think you could teach me to hit like that?”

And just like that, a friendship was born, as naturally as the changing of seasons. You didn't actually teach him to play tennis, you decided, though, that he was far more enthralled with the intricate mechanics of his racing kart, and you found yourself drawn to the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about the feeling of speed and control.

You spent the rest of your summer evenings not on the court, but tinkering with his kart in his garage, or racing against each other on the empty country roads, the roar of engines a stark contrast to the quiet thud of tennis balls you were used to.

You taught him a little about the precision and discipline you carried from your sport while he showed you how to embrace a more reckless, unbridled kind of passion.

As the weeks passed, those shared moments morphed into something deeper. One warm evening, after a long day at the track, you found yourselves lying on the grass, looking up at the stars.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and charged, until he turned his head, and his hand brushed against yours.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I can't imagine not having you here. You're… unlike anyone I've ever met."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You had thought the same thing, again and again. "You're kinda different yourself, Verstappen," you whispered, your gaze fixed on his face.

He picked up your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Are you going to let me kiss you?�� he asked, his stormy blue eyes searching yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You tilted your head slightly, and that soft, hesitant kiss was the start of something bigger than either of you could have imagined.

The next few years were a blur of teenage milestones, shared victories, and the quiet comfort of understanding each other. You traveled the world, following your dreams. You were winning Grand Slams.

You mastered the art of the backhand and the perfect serve, while he climbed the ranks in the world of Formula 1, learning the intricacies of high-speed racing and the relentless demands of the professional circuit.

You learned to navigate the complexities of a long-distance relationship, the bittersweet ache of goodbyes followed by the heady joy of reunions.

You’d meet in far-flung corners of the world, a stolen weekend in Monaco, a quick coffee in London, sharing late-night calls across different time zones, finding solace in each other’s voices.

You learned to listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart, understanding the unspoken language of ambition and dedication, of relentless pursuit, from someone who truly understood what was involved.

He was there in the stands when you clinched your first Wimbledon title, his applause echoing louder than the roar of the crowd, his pride radiating across the stadium.

You, in turn, were glued to the screen, every race day a nail-biting affair as you chanted his name like a magic spell. You celebrated his wins with unabashed joy, commiserated over his losses with a fierce loyalty that only a childhood best friend, a lover, could offer.

Your life now is a whirlwind of press conferences, sponsor obligations, and the unwavering pressure to stay at the top.

You glide across the court, a graceful yet powerful force, your focus sharp and unflinching, yet when you catch a glimpse of Max in the crowd, you allow yourself a secret smile, a silent reminder of your shared history, of the kid he was all those years ago. He is a reminder of that simpler time.

There are moments, like now, after another grueling day on the court, when you close your eyes and let the roar of the crowd fade away, replaced by the rumble of his scooter and the memory of his first shy smile.

You might be number one in the world of tennis, a name whispered in awe, but you know, the best title you've ever earned is his girlfriend. And that, you think, is the greatest prize of all.

And, as you’re getting ready for the next press conference, you're thinking of the next time you see him. The thought has you smiling again. . . .

The roar of the crowd is a familiar symphony, a constant hum beneath your focused breath. You adjust the headband, the familiar terry cloth a comfort against the glare of the stadium lights. Wimbledon’s Centre Court is your kingdom, the lush green grass your canvas.

You’re leading 5-3 in the third set against Elena Rybakina, a formidable opponent, your every move calculated, precise. A serve, a blur of motion – ace. The roar erupts, a wave of sound that threatens to lift you off your feet.

You know you've got this, the title within your grasp. You’ve worked for this, bled for this, every single grueling practice session, every sacrifice, all culminate in this moment.

You win the game, the match, and the crowd goes wild. The air crackles with energy, the taste of victory sweet on your tongue. You shake hands with Rybakina, a brief, respectful acknowledgment of the battle fought, then raise your arms in a triumphant arc.

Another Wimbledon title under your belt. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the familiar mix of elation and exhaustion. It’s a high like no other, but underneath that surge of victory there's another feeling, a quiet hum of anticipation.

You know who’s waiting for you.

The post-match media scrum is a blur - flashes, questions, microphone in your face. You handle it all with your usual icy grace, your well-honed responses a shield against the endless prodding.

You’re used to it; it comes with the territory of being the best. But you’re itching to escape its glare. You see your agent, Sarah, giving you a quick nod, and you know it's your cue. A few more polite words, another practiced smile, and then you're slipping away, finally free of the spotlight.

You find him in the players' lounge, perched on a sofa, his eyes tracking yours as you walk in. Max. He stands as you approach, a smile playing on his lips that makes your heart do that familiar little flip.

The harsh lines that often harden his face are softened when he looks at you. He gathers you into his arms, his embrace both fierce and gentle.

"You were incredible," he whispers against your hair, his voice roughened with emotion. "An absolute beast out there."

"Thanks, you," you murmur, breathing in his scent, the familiar comfort of it grounding you after the storm of the match. You pull back slightly, your gaze catching his. “Did you watch the whole thing? Even with your schedule?”

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You were destroying her. Honestly, you're the most dangerous person I know." You laugh at that, a genuine laugh that’s rare these days, a laugh that only he can draw out of you.

Later, back at the house in Monaco, you sit side-by-side on the balcony, the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the moonlight. He holds your hand, his thumb tracing patterns on your knuckles.

In this serene space, the world outside fades away. The tension that always seems to cling to you both loosens, the relentless pressure of your careers receding into the background.

"You know," Max begins, his voice quiet, "sometimes I still can't believe it. You, the best there is. Not just in the world, but the best there could ever be.”

You turn to him, your eyes searching his. "And you?" you ask him, “World Champion twice? Sometimes I can't believe you’re not some superhuman entity.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze unwavering. "We both push ourselves to the edge, and beyond," he says. "It's what makes us who we are, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," you agree, leaning your head against his shoulder. "But it's also why we need each other." The silence that follows is comfortable, a space filled with shared understanding, a knowing that transcends words.

The days that follow are a brief reprieve, stolen moments away from the relentless cycle of competition. You spend them walking along the coast, laughing, rediscovering the simplicity of just being together.

But the respite is always fleeting, the demands of your respective careers always looming on the horizon. You’re due to fly out for a tournament in Washington D.C. in a week, and Max is scheduled for a race in Hungary two weeks after that.

The night before you leave, the atmosphere is thick with a quiet anticipation. You’re curled up on the sofa, your favourite movie playing softly on the TV, but neither of you is paying much attention.

Max pulls you closer, his hand slipping beneath your t-shirt, tracing the curve of your back. His skin is always warm against yours, a familiar comfort.

"I wish you didn't have to go," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I hate being away from you."

You turn to face him, your fingers cupping his cheek. "I wish I didn't either, but we know how this goes. We’re just two very busy, very overachieving maniacs.”

He smiles, a flash of his boyish charm. "Yeah, but that's why I love you. You’re as insane as I am." He leans in, his lips finding yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

The morning you leave, the goodbyes are short, a quick kiss on the lips and a promise to call every day. You watch his car disappear down the driveway, a small ache settling in your chest.

It's the same ache you feel every time you part ways, a reminder of your connection, a reminder of what you have to come back to.

The tournament in D.C. is a brutal battle. You're seeded first, as always, and the pressure is immense. You win the first few rounds with your usual dominance, but then come up against a rising star, a young American player who pushes you to your absolute limit.

The match goes to five sets, each point a war of attrition. You’re exhausted by the end, but you win, the taste of victory bittersweet.

That night, you’re in the hotel room, the city lights twinkling outside your window. You’re on a call with Max, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

He’s telling you about his practice sessions, the improvements he’s made to his car, and you’re listening intently, your mind drifting away from the exhaustion and the pressure.

“You were so close out there,” he says suddenly, “your match was insane, I was so nervous.”

“You always are,” you giggle, picturing his intense face watching your match on the TV. “Just like how I feel every race you’re in.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, the hum of the call a gentle lull. “I’m proud of you,” he says, his voice soft, “you always make me so proud.”

“And I you,” you murmur, a lump forming in your throat.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel like you're home again, all the way across the world.

“Love you too, always.”

You fall asleep with his voice still ringing in your ears. The next morning, you wake up to a phone call you weren't expecting. It’s Sarah, your agent, and her voice is strained.

"There's been an accident," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "Max... he was in a crash during practice."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. The room spins, the world blurring at the edges. Your breath catches in your chest, a cold dread gripping your heart.

"How bad?" you manage to ask, your voice shaking.

"We don't know yet," she says, the uncertainty in her voice doing little to assuage the terror that’s now flooding you. "You need to come home, now."

The next few hours are a chaotic blur. You’re on autopilot, racing through airports and boarding planes, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You barely register the faces around you, the sounds of the world muted, as if you're underwater.

All you can think of is Max, his face, his smile, his voice. The thought of losing him is unbearable.

You arrive in Monaco in the dead of night. The house feels cold and empty, the silence deafening. You make your way to the hospital, your every step heavy, the weight of your fear pressing down on you.

You find him in a small, sterile room, his body connected to monitors. He’s pale and still, his face almost hidden by the shadows. You feel like you’ve been ripped open, the pain so sharp it steals your breath.

You rush to his side, your fingers reaching for his hand. His skin is cold, but his grip tightens around yours, a small, reassuring squeeze.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You’re here," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Max,” you breathe, a sob catching in your throat. Tears are streaming down your face as you gently cup his face. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He smiles weakly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I knew you would be,” he murmurs, his eyes closing again, “always, even when I’m an idiot driving a race car.”

You don’t say anything, you just sit beside him, holding his hand, and watching him breathe, a silent promise passing between you, a bond forged in childhood, strengthened by shared triumphs and endured through deep pain - a love that would always, always persevere. . . .

The scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel clings to him even before the door shuts. You hear the familiar click of the lock, and then the heavier thud of his boots hitting the tiles of the hallway.

You’re sprawled on the couch, a worn-out copy of “Open” by Andre Agassi resting on your chest. Jimmy, the ginger behemoth, is purring like a motorboat on your left thigh, while Sassy, the sleek black panther, is curled into a perfect ebony question mark at your feet.

They’ve been your constant companions during the lull before your next tournament.

“Hey,” Max’s voice is low, tired, but a ripple of warmth underlies it. You open your eyes, the intense afternoon sun filtering in through the tall living room windows making the world outside a blur of gold and green.

You push Agassi off your chest, feeling the book’s weight leave a slight indent.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, the Red Bull logo on his polo a vibrant dash of color against the muted tones of the room.

He looks drained, the lines around his eyes slightly more pronounced than you remember from the last time he was home. You know those lines; they’re etched by the relentless pressure of Formula 1, the constant travel, the unending pursuit of milliseconds.

He kneels beside the couch, reaching out a hand to scratch behind Jimmy's ears. The cat pushes his head into Max’s palm, a rumbling purr vibrating through his frame.

“They’ve missed you,” you murmur, running a hand down Sassy’s velvety back.

Max glances up at you, his blue eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are a little softer now, a touch vulnerable and definitely possessive. “Not as much as I missed you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You feel the familiar warmth spread through your chest. It's crazy how after all these years, the simple act of him looking at you like that can still make your heart do somersaults.

He settles onto the couch, his long legs stretching out and nearly touching your feet. He pulls you into his side, and you nestle in, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

The tension in his body is palpable. “Bad race?” you ask softly, tracing small circles on his arm with your fingertip.

He sighs, a gust of air escaping his lips. “Third,” he replies, the single word carrying a weight that you understand completely. “Just… not good enough, you know?”

You nod, because you do know. You've had your share of crushing defeats, the sting of a missed shot, the frustration of an opponent playing out of their skin. You’ve both built entire empires on a foundation of ambition, a constant striving for perfection, despite the inherent impossibility of it.

You know how those ‘not good enough’ days can feel.

“You’ll get ‘em next time,” you say, your head resting against his shoulder. There’s no need for platitudes or empty reassurances. He knows that you know.

A wry smile touches his lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re basically untouchable on the court right now.”

You chuckle, a low, confident sound that ripples through his frame. “Untouchable? Please. I just know how to make my opponents sweat a little.”

You raise your eyebrows, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He is so well aware of the press conferences where you don't mince your words.

He lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound is music to your ears. It’s raw and real. “That's the understatement of the century,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The way you went off on that reporter after your French Open semi-final was legendary."

You roll your eyes dramatically, though you can't suppress the grin that spreads across your face. “He asked if I was scared of my opponent. Scared. As if. I’d rather face a thousand of those volleys than go through another interview like that.”

He pulls you closer, his arm tightening around you. "You're fierce," he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. "On and off the court. It's... it's one of the things I love about you.”

“And you’re terrifying behind the wheel,” you tease, knowing that a lot of his race opponents are afraid of him on the track.

He chuckles again, a low rumble against your ear. “And you love that too,” he says, the teasing note in his voice back.

You don’t bother denying it. He knows you too well. You know him too well. You’ve built something that is so incredibly strong because it was always built together. You’ve seen each other through the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the triumphs and the heartbreaks.

You’ve navigated the pressures of fame, the relentless scrutiny, the isolating nature of being at the top – together. You were just kids when it started, two teenagers with big dreams and even bigger personalities.

You fell in love navigating the ups and downs of life, and you grew up together, which made things that much stronger.

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken language that only two people who have known each other for so long can share. You can feel the tension slowly leaving him, as if your presence is a balm to his weary soul.

“Tournament soon?” he asks, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Yeah,” you reply, “Dubai. In a week.” You know the time change between Dubai and Europe will be brutal, but you’ve become accustomed to that aspect of your career.

He lifts his head and looks at you, his gaze intense. “You’ll crush them,” he says with absolute certainty.

You smile, the confidence in his voice a tangible thing. “Just like you’re going to leave them all in the dust next race, huh?”

He grins, that familiar flash of competitive fire returning to his eyes. “You know it.”

You trace the line of his jaw, your fingers lingering on the slight stubble. You could spend hours like this, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence, the noise of the world fading away.

There’s a vulnerability in him that only you get to see, a softness that he hides from the cameras, the reporters, the rivals. And in return, he gets to see a side of you that very few have been privy to, the quiet tenderness that lies beneath the fiery exterior.

“Want to order some takeaway?” you ask, the thought of cooking suddenly feeling like a monumental task.

“Pizza?” he suggests, his eyes already sparkling with the thought.

“Only if it has pineapple,” you tease, knowing that it is the most controversial thing you could possibly say.

Max groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “You are absolutely going to be the death of me,” he says, but the smile on his face belies his words.

You laugh, the sound light and free. You lean in, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s the taste of home, a place where you are both just Max and you, where the pressures of the world are just whispers in the distance.

You know that outside this space, you are both world-class athletes with unwavering determination, but in each other’s arms, you are just two people who grew up together. Who fell in love.

Who, despite the relentless demands of your careers, will always find their way back to each other. You are, after all, each other’s constant. You are, and will always be, each other’s home.

The roar of the engine was a familiar lullaby, a sound that had been a constant soundtrack to your life since you were kids, perched on the sidelines of karting tracks, watching Max whiz by in a blur of red and orange.

Now, instead of a flimsy kart, you were strapped into a beast of a car, the smell of hot rubber and high-octane fuel filling your nostrils. You glanced at the familiar, focused profile of Max beside you, the set of his jaw a testament to his concentration.

This was supposed to be a fun exercise, a publicity stunt dreamed up by Red Bull’s marketing department – the world’s number one tennis player, and the reigning Formula One Champion, taking a joyride. Except, this wasn’t a joyride.

This was a terror ride, and you were pretty sure your heart was currently trying to stage a coup and escape from your chest.

“Max,” you started, your voice a little too high pitched, a far cry from the confident, booming voice that usually echoed through stadium press boxes. “You know I’m used to your speed, right? On the track, where it's meant to be, not on some random circuit at 300 km/h.”

He didn’t answer, just a subtle twitch of his lips hinting at a suppressed grin. You gripped the grab handle on your side of the car so hard your knuckles turned white.

It was no secret that Max, much like you on the tennis court, thrived on pushing boundaries. He was a master of controlled chaos on the track, and right now, you weren’t so sure about the "controlled" part.

The car accelerated, forcing you back into your seat. You let out a yell, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you.

You were used to controlling your own trajectory, predicting your opponent’s next move, the satisfying thump of a perfectly placed serve. This, this was utterly out of your hands, at the mercy of Max’s foot on the accelerator pedal.

“Max! Verdomme! Slow down!” You bellowed, resorting to Dutch as your carefully constructed composure shattered into a million pieces. You could feel the g-force pressing against you, throwing your head against the headrest as he took a corner at an impossible speed.

You braced yourself, bracing your hands against the dashboard, trying to find something solid to cling to.

You could hear him chuckling, the sound muffled but distinct. You could practically see the mischievous glint in his eyes, even though you were looking straight at the dashboard.

“What, is the little tennis star scared?” He teased, his voice laced with amusement.

He downshifted, the revs of the engine screaming higher, and you swore you felt your stomach try to migrate up into your throat.

“Scared?! I’m not scared!” You shouted back, partially for his benefit, mostly for yours. “I’m just… concerned about the structural integrity of this car. And my very delicate internal organs!” You knew you sounded pathetic, not the self-assured athlete the world knew and feared, but you couldn’t help it.

This was Max Verstappen, after all. He had a unique way of bringing out your most ridiculous, human side.

He laughed again, a full, genuine laugh this time, the kind that made your heart flutter even while your stomach was performing gymnastics.

He glanced over at you, a grin playing on his face. “Relax, schatje. I have it under control.”

And maybe, just maybe, you did believe him, for a split second anyway. Then he slammed on the gas and you screamed again, a string of Dutch curses pouring out of your lips as you gripped the headrest with an iron fist.

Each turn was a rollercoaster, each acceleration a punch to your gut. You found yourself cursing in Dutch, English, and even a little bit of French, a linguistic mashup fuelled by sheer terror.

You caught glimpses of the blur outside, the landscape a streaks of green and brown. You tried to focus on breathing, trying to regain a semblance of control over your runaway emotions, but every time he hit the accelerator, you lost it again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, or perhaps just a few minutes of extreme adrenaline, the car slowed, and pulled into a stop. You were slumped back in your seat, a sweaty, disheveled mess.

“That was… an experience,” you managed, your voice still a bit shaky.

He turned to you, his eyes sparkling as he gave you a wide, triumphant grin. “Fun, right?”

You almost laughed, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Fun? Max, I think I aged at least five years in that car.” You reached up and felt your pulse, which was still trying to break free.

He tilted his head, the playful gleam still dancing in his eyes. “But you said you're used to my speed."

You threw your hands up. “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d be trying to scare me, you… absolute menace.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and then reached over and undid your seatbelt. As he did, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Maybe just a little.”

You felt yourself blush, despite the fact that you were also on the verge of throttling him. As he stepped out of the car, you took a moment to collect yourself, smoothing your clothes and trying to appear somewhat pulled together.

As you reached up, your fingers brushed something small and hard attached to the car’s dashboard. It was a camera, aimed directly at you.

Your eyes widened, and then everything clicked into place. The teasing laughter, the exaggerated acceleration, the playful comments – it had all been an elaborate, incredibly mischievous ploy.

You burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed around the open space. You couldn't help it. It was absurd, ridiculous, and completely, utterly Max.

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. He watched you, his eyes sparkling, a smile playing on his lips.

“Did you get all of that?” you exclaimed, still chuckling. “The screaming in multiple languages? The death grips on the dashboard?"

He shrugged, pretending to look innocent, but the smirk on his face told another story. “Maybe.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice laced with amusement rather than anger.

“Only for you,” he replied, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

You lowered your hands, a smile now playing on your lips. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? That you would never just do a normal lap with me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours. “Where’s the fun in normal, liefje?”

You knew he was right. Normal was boring. And as much as the terror of the hot lap had made you want to wring his neck, you also wouldn't trade it for anything.

It was another reminder of the chaotic dance you and Max had always been in, a dance of adrenaline, teasing, and a love that ran as deep as the engine roar that had been the background to your lives.

This was your Max, and despite your near-death experience, you wouldn't have him any other way. You stepped out of the car, ready to face the world, and whatever else he decided to throw your way. The camera might have captured your terrified screams, but it had missed the grin that was now plastered across your face.

You were ready for your next match but you were also ready for whatever chaos Max decided to unleash next.

Life with him was never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way. . . .

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, the familiar rumble of Max's engine fading behind you. You pull your coat tighter, adjusting your beanie, a small smile playing on your lips.

The holidays. A welcome respite from the relentless pressure of the tennis circuit. A chance to breathe, to ground yourself before the Australian Open looms. And, most importantly, time with Max.

He's already by the padel court, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he bounces a ball. Lando and Charles are there too, bickering about something trivial, their usual competitive energy already buzzing.

“Took you long enough, slowpoke,” Max teases, tossing the ball to you.

“Traffic,” you retort, catching it easily. “Besides, someone had to pack the snacks, didn’t they?”

Lando groans dramatically. “Snacks? You brought snacks? This is serious competition, woman!”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of your on-court persona flickering through. “Oh, I thought this was just a friendly get-together. Unless you’re scared, Lando?”

He splutters, Charles chuckling beside him. “Scared? Of you? Please. Just wait until I unleash my padel prowess.”

Max wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Don’t listen to him, liefje. We’ll crush them.”

That Dutch endearment always makes you melt, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. He knows exactly how to disarm you.

The game starts, and the air is filled with the thwack of the ball, playful taunts, and the occasional groan of exertion. You and Max move with a practiced synchronicity, years of playing (and bickering) together evident in your easy communication.

Max is surprisingly good at padel, his reflexes honed by years of racing, and you find yourself relying on his power, setting him up for winning shots.

“That’s cheating! You have your wife on your team,” Lando grumbles, wiping sweat from his brow after another point you and Max win.

“Jealous, are we?” you retort, grinning. “Maybe you should find yourself a tennis champion girlfriend.”

Charles snorts. “Good luck with that. Finding someone who can keep up with you is a challenge.”

You playfully shove Charles’ shoulder. “I’m not that intimidating.”

Max squeezes your hand. “Oh, you are. Especially when you give those death stares on court.”

He's right, of course. You can be ruthless. You have to be. The pressure to stay on top is immense, the media constantly scrutinizing every move, every word. The expectation is suffocating sometimes.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the court, you’re sitting on the bench, catching your breath.

The score is ridiculously lopsided in yours and Max’s favor. Lando and Charles have conceded defeat, blaming everything from the altitude to the snack selection.

Max sits beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there,” he says, his voice soft. “Like always.”

“So were you,” you reply, leaning into him. “You know, for a race car driver.”

He laughs, a warm, comforting sound. “It's all about reflexes, liefje. And a killer instinct.”

He understands that killer instinct in you, the drive to win, the unwavering focus. He sees it because he possesses it too.

It binds you together, this shared understanding of the relentless pursuit of excellence, the sacrifices required, the price you both pay.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. “With everything… the media, the pressure. Are you okay?”

It's a question he asks often, a constant check-in, a reminder that he’s there, always. It's a tenderness he rarely shows the world, a vulnerability reserved only for you.

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s tough. The whispers, the judgment… sometimes it feels like I'm living under a microscope.”

“I know,” he says, his voice laced with empathy. “They’re brutal. They try to tear you down because they’re jealous of what you’ve achieved.”

He knows what it’s like to be under that kind of scrutiny, to have every mistake magnified, every victory questioned. He lived it his entire life, his father's relentless expectations and the constant pressure to perform.

You trace a pattern on his jeans with your finger. “It’s different for you, though. You have the car, the team… you’re surrounded by people who support you, who believe in you.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm. “And you don’t?”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Of course, I do. But it’s… lonely at the top. Everyone wants something from you. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

He understands that too. The isolation that comes with success, the constant questioning of motives.

“You have me,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You always have me. And I know it’s not the same, but Lando and Charles… they care about you too. We all see how hard you work, how much you dedicate yourself to your sport.”

He pulls you closer, his warmth enveloping you. “Don’t let them break you, liefje. You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than you even give yourself credit for.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, a reminder of your strength, your resilience. He sees you, truly sees you, the fierce competitor and the vulnerable woman beneath.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… sometimes it gets overwhelming.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Then let me carry some of the weight. That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun has almost completely disappeared, and the air is getting colder. Lando and Charles are packing up their things, their boisterous energy subdued.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Lando calls out. “We’re heading back. You coming?”

You look at Max, a silent question in your eyes.

He squeezes your hand again. “Go. I’ll stay a little longer. I want to watch the stars.”

You nod, knowing he needs the quiet, the solitude. He finds peace in the vastness of the night sky, a reminder that his problems, his pressures, are small in the grand scheme of things.

You stand up, giving Max one last kiss. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

As you walk away, you glance back at him. He’s sitting on the bench, his head tilted back, gazing at the stars. In that moment, he looks so young, so vulnerable.

The weight of the world, the expectations of millions, seem to melt away, leaving only a man searching for solace in the vastness of the universe.

You know you would do anything for him, fight anyone who dared to hurt him. You are his anchor, just as he is yours.

Later that night, you find him on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, still staring at the stars. You join him, slipping under the blanket, pressing close to his side.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice soft.

He lets out a long sigh. “Just… everything. The season, the pressure, the expectations.”

You reach out and take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re going to be okay, Max. You’re the best. You always have been.”

He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and tenderness. “And you? Are you going to be okay?”

You smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “With you by my side? Always.”

You lean in and kiss him, a long, slow kiss that speaks of years of shared history, of unspoken understanding, of unwavering love.

In that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you are just two people, connected by a bond that transcends the pressures of fame and the demands of the world.

You are simply Max and you, a team, a partnership, a love that has endured the test of time and the scrutiny of the world. And that, you realize, is all that truly matters. . .

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lucabyte · 9 months ago

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Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

#and since its too blunt to put in the body of the post. yes these are all distinct calls to game events.#mirabelles endgame spoilers comment. prologue odile's 'just one thing. not the thing'. shoulder touch. observatory conversation #odiles is the least obvious because i couldnt find satisfying more direct wording. it was too clunky....#in stars and time #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #nohats au #isat au #isat loop #isat fanart #lucabyteart #isat odile #isat bonnie #isat isabeau #isat mirabelle #anyway once again . accidentally invoking the king with that fucking corset. christ. that ones on me #long post

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elysiansparadise · 5 months ago

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Hey Elysian! I want to congratulate your completion of your Rising series; I've enjoyed all of the post. Just wanted to ask your opinion of all the rising signs. It doesn't have to be super detailed or long (although you can if you want), just your thoughts/opinions on all of them.

Excited to see your next plan!

Thank you so much love! I have many plans regarding future posts, including analysis of the risings of the composite chart! I would love to give my opinions regarding the risings. 🩷

I have already talked about Taurus and Sagittarius risings, so I will mention the rest!💞

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🤍Starting with Aries rising… I have great admiration for them, for me they are the faithful representation of resilience. I think that being ruled by Mars helps them have this strength to face everything that life has to give them. Many of them hide their pain and may be more stoic than they are given credit for. They fiercely protect those they love and never allow themselves to be trampled on by anyone. The ones I've met usually fall into the sexy category and are incredibly attractive [and they know it]. I think it is difficult for many of them to feel safe and free to be emotionally open, but within them there is a very giving heart and someone very attentive to the comfort and well-being of those they love.

🤍Gemini risings are a breath of fresh air for me. It is very interesting to have the chance to talk to them and spend time with them. They can be very perfectionists deep down behind their chill appearance. Curious and knowledgeable people who get bored when things become too monotonous, and they have that ability to turn the most mundane into something fun. They are people who adapt very easily to what life brings them and I admire the intelligence and common sense with which they move throughout life. Those I have met tend to have the ability to see a situation from different perspectives and I find that respectable. And they are incredibly charismatic!! I swear, whether they are extroverts or not, they have the ability to be funny, witty and very good at communicating.

🤍I feel very drawn and caring towards Cancer rising, that's for sure. I get along very well with them and I have enormous love for them. My best friend has this and I love her. They are very calm and observant people, and there is something about them that commands a lot of respect even if they do not intimidate others, rather it is the way in which they carry themselves. In my eyes they are responsible and very dedicated to everything they keep in their hearts, whether it be projects, people or hobbies. They are incredibly reserved with their emotions and are very intelligent when it comes to understanding themselves and others. They are very empathic and understanding and truly, very trustworthy, your secrets are safe with them.

🤍As I described in the rising series, I see Leo risings as people with a huge heart. They can be very giving with the people they love and very loving once they trust you. Intense and very passionate, both their emotions and their personality. They work very hard for what they want and are very dedicated people when they see that something is worth it. I am fascinated by how good life looks next to them, I feel that they seek to contribute positive things to the lives of those around them and I find that honorable. Attractive and charming. The authenticity of these people is something to applaud, they will never pretend to be something they are not, that's a fact.

🤍My loves Virgo rising, I love them. I'm a fan. I like them. They are my crush. Okay, but seriously, they are truly admirable people, very hard on themselves and with tendencies to overthink, but they have so many good qualities that I could do a whole page simping mentioning them. Intelligent and modest about it, they constantly expand their knowledge and when they know about a topic they speak with confidence about it. Blunt and very honest, they will tell you what they think without feeling the need to walk on glass. They are very accepting people who will never judge others for their differences and can often feel curious about people who are different from them. They are very logical when it comes to solving problems, which I consider very appropriate for maintaining a good relationship and atmosphere.

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🤍Libra rising people won't settle for less, never. They are people who highly value their time and energy and do not use it on just anyone. Of great emotional intensity, they do not mess with the feelings of others and do not let others mess with theirs. They are very ambitious people and can place very high expectations on themselves. A mixture of intelligence, cunning and intuition. They are excellent friends and can be very giving. They are very passionate people who constantly work on themselves and their relationships, they put a lot of energy into those they love. They are incredibly seductive and there is something very alluring about them. They like to share what they know and learn a lot from others.

🤍Many people I appreciate have Scorpio rising and I have a genuine appreciation for them. I love how mature they can be, great listeners, patient and very logical, there are so many things to admire about them. Many of them tend to have a great reputation when it comes to things related to passions or hobbies that they have and they take all of this very seriously, constantly seeking to improve and perfect their skills. Many of them may experience many hardships throughout their lives and it is admirable that they never victimize themselves in this regard, they live their grief and work hard to move forward. They are people who know how to love very beautifully and are also very devoted.

🤍Those with Capricorn rising learned to be stable for themselves and the people around them, it is difficult for them to rely on others but they will do their best to help and be there for those they love. They are caring and protective in a more discreet way. Many of them are often highly admired and respected in the fields in which they work. Many of them can be playful at heart and jovial as they get older. They can connect very well with people older than them and as they grow they can easily be mentors to younger ones. They give this appearance of being in control of their lives, of staying strong no matter what life throws at them. Many of them prefer deep conversations and getting to know the people they interact with in their entirety.

🤍Something that I will always admire about Aquarius rising is the guts they have to say what they think and be themselves without fear of what others say. They tend to be either very loved or very controversial and I find that duality very interesting. Contrary to what others say, they can be very stable when it comes to the bonds they form and I have experienced it firsthand. They can be very supportive and helpful people with those who are close to them, and they can also be deep down very sensitive to the suffering of others. They tend to stand out and attract attention without seeking it and many people can talk a lot about them. I have noticed that many of them tend to be very selective with whom they open up. They may think a lot about the future and worry about it.

🤍I haven't had the pleasure of meeting many Pisces risings, but the few people I know with this placement are very charming and have a very nice personality. I feel that these people try to be very understanding of other people because they would like someone to be that way with them, they are the true example of treating others how you want to be treated. Their intuition is truly strong and their creativity is a whole world that I consider worth exploring. They are not superficial and always seek to dive deep. They have very strong opinions and it is not easy to change their minds. And there is something about them, perhaps their aura or attitude, that gives you a lot of comfort and calm, often making random people talk to them about their lives even if they just met them. I have a friend with this placement and she's literally my safe place.

#astrology #ellie's personal #🤍#risings #my opinion of risings #aries rising #taurus rising #gemini rising #cancer rising #leo rising #virgo rising #libra rising #scorpio rising #sagittarius rising #capricorn rising #aquarius rising #pisces rising

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psi-hate · 9 months ago

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alright, this really, really sucks but i have an unfortunate update that occurred regarding my recent living situation.

not to get into too much detail for the sake of my friend's privacy, but she and her fiance offered to take me in after i was suddenly on the verge of homelessness this february. i accepted their offer and moved in thanks to everyone's support, and for the last few months, i felt comfortable and capable in getting myself together for the first time in years.

however, despite what i assumed were all positive developments, things started getting a lot more complicated. i become exposed to the treatment and stress my friend has been suffering from her fiance over many years, from being spied on via tracking apps, in-house cameras, a ridiculous jealousy complex and all sorts of other personal issues.

her friends and i have been supporting her over the years, but i didn't realize how bad it was until i started to be subjected to it as well.

my friend decided to break up with her fiance last week, finally standing up for herself but still wanting to remain friends and live as normally as they could, they still had the house and their cats and such. her now ex-fiance hasn't taken kindly to this and has been pretty passively hostile towards us, and has started to take it out on me.

she started stalking my tumblr to find things to get mad at, and checking the cameras when i leave my room. i've not felt comfortable to leave my room in well over a week other than to get some food or use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the tension has been a nightmare.

my friend and i decided we needed to move out, especially me since i'm technically not a tenant and we suspect she's going to call the police on me to get me out of here. my friend will be going to her parents at a later point, but i unfortunately need to leave within a couple weeks as i've already been "indirectly" threatened.

this is sort of a nightmare, and i feel so horrible things turned out this way for my friend. i tried my best, but this feels out of my control. trying to keep the peace has only made things worse, and we think it's best for me to book it before i get blind-sighted.

i suspect if her ex-fiance sees this, she'll retaliate, but at this point i've already made my peace with that.

unfortunately, i won't be able to bring much of my stuff with me, i only have enough money for a ticket to move in with another close friend as an emergency.

i don't have enough to buy any checked bags for most my belongings, especially my desktop pc, so once i move i'm very likely going to not be able to do my art or anything until i can afford a laptop eventually. i'm really sorry to those waiting on any commissions, i'll try my best to get them done before i move. i feel so horrible about this.

if anyone is able to help, i'd really appreciate it. even just a reblog is more than i can really ask. i hesitate to make this request because i feel like i just asked for it only for it to all be wasted once this exploded in my face. but i've been encouraged to reach out, and i apologize if this is too much. my ko-fi:

thank you so much for supporting me so far. i don't want to disappoint anyone anymore. i am so scared but i still want to keep trying.

#pk.text

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soaringwide · 10 months ago

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PAC: How to enhance your personal allure and beauty? • Glamour Reading

This reading is meant to dive into your own personal glamour and find ways to magnify the way you appear to others, privately or publicly.

Beauty is about weaving illusions in some ways, but the best lies contain a part of truth. How to weave lies and truths to enhance your expression of beauty is what I'm going to try to uncover today, which is why we're going to look both at your natural abilities and untapped potential.

It's something I've wanted to do for a long time since it's a subject that fascinates me, and wanted to test it out in a tarot spread, so a pick a pile readings seems like a good starting point.

If you'd like a personal reading, I'm in the process of opening my website but in the meantime I'm available through DMs.

As always, this is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not apply 100% to you. Take what resonates and leave out the rest.

If you liked the reading and want to tip me, I have a ko-fi.

PILE 1

Cards: The Hanged Man, Death, The Chariot, Knight of Cups, The Fool, 7 of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, Ace of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles

First, let's look into your natural beauty and talents, if you will. This is easy to tap into and you might already do it to some extent, and is what people perceive from you at first glance.

I see someone with a strong, magnetic presence that might be intimidating to some people, giving the vibe of someone who is confident and knows what impression they want to give off. You have a very deliberate style and strong personal allure that might lean into darker types of aesthetic, but it would definitely be ornate, romantic (in the true, dramatic sense of the word) and as far away from minimalism as possible. I see you choosing little elements that others might not notice but that are full of meaning and symbolism for you, like a piece of jewellery, or swapping the color of your shoelace or socks to fit into a vision you have in your head. Wearing hats or headpieces might also be something significant for you. You see your clothes and other visual upgrades as some type of armor you wear to feel stronger, more confident, and make a great impression on people around you. You like being noticed and want people to find you beautiful or stylish, but at the same time have very little regard for established rules and like to bring a twist of change in the way you appear to others. It's like you're already practicing glamour naturally, funnily enough, because I see you magnifying your natural talents already and you definitely are shrouded in some type of glamourized, attractive mystery.

When it comes to your ideal archetypal beauty, what you can draw inspiration from to push yourself even further, i see you as someone who embodies the characteristics of going against expectations when it comes to style and appearances. I get the idea of playing around with gender expression (might not apply to all or be applicable to varying degrees), going against what's commonly assumed to be fitting for your perceived gender to create something unique and different, but it could also simply be about going against common taste. It's about carving out your own path, inspired by yourself and your unique perspective on life, and by extension, on your style and appearance. This is not someone who follows trends and style guides mindlessly, but someone who is not afraid of calling everything into question, in order to incorporate what they choose and add their own unique flair to it. Taste is subjective and it's something you can learn to lean even more into.

Now, for the untapped qualities, or raw power you can learn to incorporate, I see strong Uranus influence, which was already highlighted in your ideal archetypal influence.

There is an elements to finding joy and pleasure in shocking others a little bit. Letting yourself be completely free with your style expression, but keeping personal enjoyment in mind. The goal is not to shock for the sake of being an obnoxious eccentric, but going to the core of what makes you feel empowered and free and fining the graceful pleasure in it. There is also the idea of weaving some type of illusion so that people can never guess what you're going to do next. I think you have an untapped natural talent for manipulating how others see you a little bit. Right now you focus on your personal magnetism, but you could push that even further and endow yourself in whatever illusion you see fit for the time or situation. I see you being able to work on your appearance like a beautiful work of art, following the vision you have in mind.

For how you can magnify everything I mentioned, here is what I see.

First of all, it seems that despite all the great things I said about you, deep down, you feel quite inadequate and vulnerable, which is perhaps why you put so much effort into your ''armor''. I've got to tell you that these doubts are only in your mind and that the powers I describe are felt very strongly by others, they might just never say it or only give you a light compliment, which you don't even take into account. You seem to keep these worry very private and assume everyone can sense that when it's not the case. So yeah I definitely see you are already doing sooo much but it's just in your mind you don't see it, which is the first thing you need to focus on. Because I think that these doubts might influence your stylistic choices to some extent, which would be self-sabotaging your natural and ideal strengths. Therefore, you first need to clear out these thoughts and hurts in order to see yourself as others see you, in your highest potential.

Secondly and once you've done that, you definitely are advised to invest further in your appearance, and by that it could be money but also time, effort and energy. I feel like there is a new direction that is available to you, perhaps to switch things up a little or express some things more intensely. In both cases, the very strong message is to be deliberate in your vision and keep your eyes on this. I think you already do it to some extent, but here we're talking about Glamour, glamour, like, it's not enough to pick a pair of earrings or the color of your top, you need to focus on what it is the impact you want to have on others is, and how to best achieve that, keeping in mind the strong Uranian influences about being your own Icon and breaking boundaries along the way. Really, the next step involves planning and deliberate steps. Don't just throw whatever in your cart but be mindful of what story it's telling and if it aligns with your vision.

If you liked the reading and want to tip me, I have a ko-fi.

PILE 2

Cards: Queen of Cups, 8 of Swords, The Star, The World, The Lovers, The High Priestess, Knight of Cups, The Hanged Man, Ace of Wands, 9 of Cups

First, let's look into your natural beauty and talents, if you will. This is easy to tap into and you might already do it to some extent, and is what people perceive from you at first glance.

What's actually really interesting is that there seem to be an opposition between constriction vs liberation, as embodied by Saturn in Aquarius qualities. It seems being in touch with your imagination and ideals is natural to you, you appear dreamy but in a melancholic way, a loner that people don't approach easily. People might get the sense that you are lost in your thoughts and that something else is taking your attention. You don't project a strong sun-like charisma, but rather, charm people when they get close to you and get a feel for your rich inner world. You are very authentic in the way you approach your appearance, as in, you don't seek to appear as someone you are not, up to a fault I'd say. Like, if you don't hold a high opinion of yourself that might stop you from dressing how you like because it doesn't feel true in some way. It's also like you feel constricted when you have to follow a dress code and would rather be able to wear whatever puts you at ease in the given situation, but then again it's a problem is you feel weak or stuck because it influences your choices. On top of that, I'm again getting strong ideals, so I would not be surprised if your social or political ideals influence the way your present yourself. Perhaps you have an inclination towards sustainable fashion or cruelty free beauty and it helps you feel more aligned with your inner world.

When it comes to your ideal archetypal beauty, what you can draw inspiration from revolves around the idea to let your idealistic and creative nature run free, like the waves on the ocean's shore. This hints at a poetic approach to your style and appearance, with the desire to evoke gentle feelings. Your archetypal beauty is one of a siren, enchanting and mysterious. You might benefit from beautifully ornate jewelry, nacre, pearls and shells come to mind, and I'm also getting renaissance inspired aesthetic like cherubs imagery and dramatic silhouettes, rosy cheeks and braided hairstyles. The ocean is wide and mysterious, fascinating and unknowable, and that's definitely an allure you can harness at your highest potential. Even in that configuration, you're still highly focused on your inner world but it appears on the outside as well.

Now, for the untapped qualities, or raw power you can learn to incorporate, I see a few messages.

The thing is that, despite the saturnine influences, you do have raw potential for a more radiant and inviting, shall we say, energy to you. With the Lovers which is connected to Gemini, you can really learn to actually express your rich inner world and come across as communicative and adaptable regardless of the social situation. Balancing out the coldness with warmth and being more inviting if you will. Someone people can't stop looking at, which implies you actually have to get out of your comfort zone and accept being seen by others.

Paired with you natural characteristics, this has the potential to increase your magnetism and make you mysteriously seductive because people will tap into both layers, sensing an inviting and charming first impression but also getting a feel of your deep inner world. There is also the potential to truly express your emotions through your clothes and appearance and thus sticking true to your desire for authenticity. Don't shy away from being creative and even artistic with your appearance. You have a natural inclination toward romantic styles and flowyness (sheer fabrics or silk-like textures) which can make you stand out in a crowd. Approach your style like a dream, something that is felt intensely and that you can get lost in. Play around with color combinations, and I would suggest having fun creating color palettes that evoke specific feelings rather than being minimal because you want to blend in. You can really project a striking vibe with your newfound confidence, with the help of your clothes and beauty care.

For how you can magnify everything I mentioned, here is what I see.

First of all there is a need to change you ways drastically. As we saw, there seem to be an opposition with how people currently see you vs what your potential is. Don't get me wrong, everything is present within you but it's like it's dormant. I sense you being somewhat stuck in your routine and stylistic habits and reluctant to change anything. You are being called to step up and take actions toward change. Dare to wear what makes you feel like your creative and dreamy self. You know yourself well but if you truly want to change the way people see you you have to take deliberate actions towards that. Not by wearing what you think people want but by going to the highest vision you have of yourself.

You would also benefit greatly from a more optimistic outlook on yourself and learn to communicate happiness, ease and expansion. Be more generous with your energy, which means that you don't have to hold everything in in fear of being judged or disliked, but rather learning to stand strong in your individuality and communicate it to others. Not everyone will like it obviously but those who do will be enchanted by your presence.

If you liked the reading and want to tip me, I have a ko-fi.

PILE 3

Cards: Ace of Cups, The Magician, 3 of Pentacles, The Hermit, 9 of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, King of Cups rx, the Fool, 7 of Cups, 3 of Swords

First, let's look into your natural beauty and talents, if you will. This is easy to tap into and you might already do it to some extent, and is what people perceive from you at first glance.

I get strong Mercury qualities when it comes to how you naturally appear to others. You manage to seduce others with your quick wit and knowledge on many different subjects. It's like, there is nothing you don't have a smart or funny opinion on and people love that about you. You are highly intellectual and I think you like mirroring that in your appearance, favoring established aesthetics and proven formulas, relaying more on your personality than your clothes so to speak. And if clothes you chooses to put the accent on, I see a more traditional and refined approach. Modest and put together. You are meticulous in your choices and don't like appearing messy. Nothing comes in excess, you pay attention to color and texture harmony and like a balanced, classic look. As a result you appear serious and put together to others.

When it comes to your ideal archetypal beauty, what you could embody when pushed to your highest degree, with the Ace of Cups, it is quite abstract than a given aesthetic. I see you having the power to initiate strong positive emotions towards others. Perhaps they admire you or have fond feelings for you, or they may fall in love or become friends with you easily. You make them feel easily connected to you by you presence and allure, you energy having that color that drives people in. It's like, a very friendly and gently type of charisma.

Now, for the untapped qualities, or raw power you can learn to incorporate, I'm not sure why but I feel a strong rag to riches vibe here. As in, it is possible that you have experienced mental and financial hardship in the past, a situation might have improved to some extent, but that probably isn't fixed completely yet. That left you scarred and you try your best to hide it, which is why it's in the raw power position. I see the potential to use that as a strength to add depth to your character. With the King of Cups reversed, you feel inadequate and undeserving. I'm getting the sense that when it comes to glamour, you can fake it till you make it so to speak. Don't forget we are talking about magnifying your allure and I think there's definitely an air of like, you know who you are and you are aware of your situation, but you don't want to appear that way to others. It's strange because for all pile I got strong impression and aesthetics here, but for you it looks more like something that's dragging you down, which means there's a potential to turn it into a strength in some way. You got the Ace of Cups as ideal archetype and the King of Cups is nothing but the Lord of this Ace, so if you manage to flip it you can embody its quality and empathetic, abundant authority and trigger positive feelings in others. There is also this idea that, even when you make that shift, you won't forget where you come from and will keep being highly empathetic and kind, and that will be part of your charm.

For how you can magnify everything I mentioned, I notice a strong idea of starting fresh and stepping away from the heartache that plagues you. There is a youthful carelessness to it as well, the idea of opening yourself to the world and see the richness you have within with your larger than life personality. You would benefit from letting that aspect of you loose a bit. You are a bit chaotic at heart and this is so so endearing to many.

Furthermore, don't get too focused on glimmers, as all that shines is not gold. I think you may have a tendency to seek material things to counter or hide your difficulties with money, but here it's all about character expression when it comes to charm people. But be mindful of how you interact with others as to not to appear aloof or unapproachable.

If you liked the reading and want to tip me, I have a ko-fi.

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pac tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #divination #tarot #tarot community #tarotblr #soaringwide #spiritual guidance #pick a picture #glamour magic #glamour tarot reading #glamour tarot

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beckyninja · 27 days ago

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The Maiden

Pairing: Salamander OC x FemReader

Warnings: None, just angst

Description: The survivor Nev'ran saved from a Drukhari raid grows closer to her rescuer... even though she shouldn't.

I'm back! And, just like I promised, here's a sequel to my first Salamander OC fic, The Dragon. I just had to write more for this character. (Feel free to check out the other fics on my Masterlist, as well.)

Warm.

Your dazed mind conjured images of hot springs and steam-filled caverns. Your parents’ tired but smiling faces. Home. Were you home?

No.

Home was far, far away. They’d taken you, forced you into a mold not of your choosing. Quiet. Aloof.

Cold.

You’d been cold for so very long.

“Miss?”

The voice rumbled like the rockslides in your family’s mines. Yet, you felt no fear. You tried to focus on it, but your mind felt like gelatin.

“Can you hear me, little diamond?”

That wasn’t your name. But you liked the way the voice said it.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

It felt like weights had been placed on your eyelids. Slowly, so slowly, they lifted. Soft, flickering light streamed into your skull and you heard yourself gasp.

“There you are.”

Red eyes in a dark face. You shied back, fear flickering in the pit of your stomach.

The face smiled. “Do not be afraid, little diamond. You are safe.”

That voice…!

You felt your lips curve around a single word. “Dragon….”

***

Three Days Later

“The Lord Apothecary thinks it best you not be left alone.” The medica motioned you through the door. “So you will be quartering with me, for the time being.”

You stepped into the little room. It could have been any serf’s quarters. But the soft rugs covering the metal flooring and pillows stacked upon the cot surprised you.

“Such comfort for a-,” you caught yourself.

“For a mere serf?” The woman, Matia, pursed her lips. “Yet I know it must pale in comparison to what you’re accustomed to, my lady.”

You looked away. She knew nothing of what you were accustomed to.

“It will do.”

Matia gestured to a simple dress laid out on the cot. “This is the best our tailors could do on such short notice.”

No itchy frills. No laces so tight they cut your skin.

“It is adequate.”

“I will leave you to change.” Matia turned her back. “Get settled. In an hour’s time, I will return to guide you to the refectory. Unless,” she sent a cool glance back over her shoulder, “you would prefer to take your meals alone.”

You imagined sitting alone in the flickering candlelight. Alone with your thoughts.

“I will go to the refectory.”

“Very well…my lady.”

The door slid shut behind her.

You lowered yourself onto the cot, yet could not force your muscles to relax.

The Apothecary said you’d been delirious for the past few days, tossing back and forth on the medical bed, mumbling nonsense. You remembered nightmares. Screams coming through locked doors…inhuman eyes leering down at you…vicious laughter….

“No!” You pressed your hands over your face.

Don’t think. Don’t feel!

Another memory calmed the rising panic. His voice.

All the tales you’d ever been told had painted the Emperor’s Angels as fearsome, unknowable beings. But he… he spoke to you. He smiled at you. His gaze melted through the ice in your soul.

“Nev’ran.” My Dragon.

***

As soon as you stepped into the refectory, you wished you’d decided to remain in Matia’s quarters. Conversation ceased in the middle of a word. Dozens of hooded heads turned to regard you.

Matia gestured to the steaming containers of food. “It’s probably not as fine as you’re used to, my lady.”

Your mouth watered. Stomach overriding your shyness, you quickly filled a tray with hearty stew and an odd, flat bread. Again, the comforts these serfs enjoyed astounded you.

When you turned around, the medica had already taken a seat with another group of women.

Maybe she didn’t mean for you to hear what she said to them.

“...never even asked the fate of the rest of her crew…never cried...dead, cold eyes.”

You took a seat at an empty table in the far corner of the room, appetite gone.

Booming footsteps made you jolt upright. Your heart raced as two of the Emperor’s Angels strode into the refectory. Far from the silent giants you’d seen carved into the walls of your family’s chapel, these warriors jostled each other, laughed, and called out greetings to the serfs.

The younger-looking of the two made a beeline for the medica and laid a massive hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him.

The other turned toward you.

Nev’ran.

You jerked your head away and stared down at your lap. Heavy footsteps approached.

“Diamond.”

“M-my Lord.”

The bench creaked as he settled his bulk across from you. “How are you feeling today?”

“I am well, my lord. Thank you.”

“You are not eating? Is the food not to your liking?”

In a panic, you reached for the bowl of stew, only to realize you’d forgotten utensils. “I…I don’t…”

He chuckled. And yet, it didn’t sound mocking.

“I will show you how it is done upon my homeworld.”

You raised your eyes enough to watch his massive, scarred hands tear his own flat bread and dip it into the stew. You followed suit.

“Brace yourself. Our spices can be-”

Heat exploded across your tongue. You dropped the bread as coughs wracked your body.

“Throne!” A warm hand covered your entire back, patting gently. “Forgive me, I should have warned you sooner.” His voice rose. “Hur’reth! Bring water!”

“I am,” you gasped, “I am all right.”

The heat faded, leaving a delightful aftertaste. You reached for another piece of bread and scooped again. By the time the younger Angel placed a cup of water at your elbow, you’d already scraped the last bits from your bowl.

“Would you look at that, Hur’reth? She eats like a Nocturnean!” Your Dragon’s rumbling laugh sent a flicker of heat through your body. “Continue like this, Diamond, and you will have your strength back.”

Finally, you scraped together the courage to raise your eyes to his.

He smiled down at you. “Would you mind this old drake’s company?”

Another flicker. Your rational mind hissed a warning.

Don’t feel. Stay cold.

But you couldn’t resist the tiniest of smiles. “I would not, my lord.”

***

The Apothecarion fast became your favorite place on the ship.

As the weeks passed, Nev’ran still insisted on daily examinations. He grumbled about the thinness of your form, the pallor of your skin. You found yourself lingering longer and longer afterwards.

He didn’t seem to mind your silence, telling you stories of Nocturne, the Salamanders, and the Primarch Vulkan as you perched on the edge of the examination table. You loved the sound of his voice.

You craved his warmth even more.

It will end soon. And then where will you be? Better to be numb.

“What brings such a sour expression to your face, Diamond?”

You blinked. “My Lord?”

“That is not my name.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you looked at the floor. A thick finger tilted your chin back up.

When had he gotten so close?

“Say my name, Diamond.”

Another flicker of heat, like a sputtering candle at your core. “Nev’ran.”

Somehow, his eyes seemed to burn brighter. His hand moved to cup your cheek.

“So fragile,” he seemed to say to himself, “and yet, I sense fire within.”

The blissful warmth of his skin against yours caused your eyelids to droop closed. A rich, heady smokiness overwhelmed the medicinal tang of the Apothecarion. Breath not your own brushed across your lips.

“Nev’ran….”

The door to the chamber hissed open.

Your eyes snapped wide and you flung yourself from the examination table. Pain lanced through your feet as you dropped nearly six feet to the hard floor.

The Apothecary’s hand on your shoulder steadied you. “Easy, there. What-?”

You pulled away, heart pounding.

“F-forgive me, my lord. I-I am in need of rest.” You bowed hurriedly and limped toward the door.

The younger Apothecary stood there, staring down at you. The look in his narrowed eyes churned your stomach. With another bow, you slipped past him and into the corridor.

You pressed yourself against the wall and brought your hands to your face.

Stop feeling. Stop!

But the flickering candle within refused to go out.

***

You did not return the next day. Or the next. And after your third polite excuse, Nev’ran stopped sending requests. He said he would respect your wishes.

Your nights passed in fitful spurts as the nightmares returned with a vengeance. Less and less did they return to you the Drukhari attack, instead filling your mind with terror for the future. Matia often did not return to her quarters during the sleep cycle, so you found yourself facing the horrors alone, shivering with a chill no amount of blankets could remedy.

In these moments of weakness, you turned to other things for comfort.

A soft smile, so incongruous in that broad, scarred face.

No, don’t.

A rumbling chuckle, making you smile in spite of yourself.

This is madness!

An impossibly deep voice that meant safety.

Better not to feel.

Fiery eyes that saw you, the you you’d thought safely locked away.

Be cold, you little fool. It’s the only way to survive what is to come-

“No!” You flung away the blankets and sat upright.

I want this. Even if only for a moment, even if it hurts.

The mad rush to the Apthecarion was a blur in your mind. When you finally stood in front of its door, you thanked the Emperor you’d passed no one on your way. What would they think of you? Feet bare, in nothing but a sleeping robe.

All thoughts of embarrassment faded away as you reached for the access panel…

… only to pause at the boom of raised voices within.

“Are you mad, Nev’ran?!”

You knew that voice. The younger Apothecary who never seemed too far from Matia.

“This does not concern you, boy.”

“This concerns the whole chapter! She is not one of us!”

“Hur’reth-”

“No. Listen to reason, Master. If not for yourself, then for her sake. She is frail. She would never survive life among Astartes.”

“She survived the Drukhari.”

“By the blood of her guards, only. And do you not see how it broke her? Throne, from what Matia tells me, she is little more than a walking corpse-”

“Hold your tongue!” You jumped at the rage in Nev’ran’s voice. “There is fire in her, Hur’reth. I have seen it!”

Warmth flickered through you.

“Perhaps you only see what you wish to see.”

“What?”

“I should have waited to tell you of my mate. I see now it opened old wounds.”

A deep, low growl.

“She is not Ruby, Master.”

A thunderous bang and the door bulged outward. You gasped and shied away, though not far enough to not hear your Dragon’s roar.

“YOU THINK I DO NOT KNOW THAT!”

A long pause.

“Either way, Master, it matters not.” You froze. “She belongs to another.”

The candle within you sputtered out.

***

“We have informed the Planetary Governor of your arrival, my lady. He is sending a transport.”

The words came automatically. “I thank you for your courtesy, Lord Captain. I hope I did not inconvenience you.”

Captain Xavus nodded, a kind look on his face. “This planet was not far out of our way, thank the Emperor.”

You bowed. “The Emperor protects.”

“Indeed.” With another nod, he returned to his command station.

Through the viewports, you watched the planet spin slowly below. Even from orbit you imagined you could feel a chill from the dead, white expanse. Ice. Ice as far as the eye could see.

How appropriate.

You ran your fingers over the bodice of your dress, the same heavy gown you’d been wearing when the xenos attacked your original ship. The memory no longer sent terror clawing through you.

You felt nothing.

The medica, Matia, escorted you to the hangar bay. You caught her sending concerned glances your way and almost laughed. She’d described you as a walking corpse before. What must you look like to her now that you were truly dead inside?

Good girl. It’s better this way.

“Wait.”

You jerked to a halt, but kept staring straight ahead.

“Leave us, Matia.”

You heard the medica retreat, felt the massive presence at your back. “My Lord, you need not have troubled yourself to see me off.”

“Stop.” The strain in his deep voice made your stomach quiver. “Diamond, look at me.”

“That is not my name, my lord.”

Great, armored gauntlets turned you to face him with an irresistible strength. You kept your eyes on the floor.

“You do not want this.”

Was it heretical to hear desperation in his voice?

“One woman’s desires are irrelevant in the face of dynastic politics, my lord.”

“Would you rather stay?” Hands, warm even through the armor, cupped your face. “Answer me!”

At the snarl, your eyes finally met his. The look within them shattered you.

“Nev’ran, it’s no use.” For the first time, you touched him, fingers playing over the scars on his cheek. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me. I wish….”

He turned his face, pressing rough lips to your palm. You allowed your Dragon’s warmth to wash over you one last time.

Then you turned toward the frost-covered transport.

Cold.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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@n0cturn4 @mgrm99 @seirensou

As always, comment if you want to be added to the Taglist!

#warhammer 40k #salamanders #salamander x reader #leaned into the angst on this one #space marines #space marine x reader

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sparkleofpizza · 6 months ago

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Emails I can't send

Part 6

Paring: Lando Norris x verstappen!reader

I keep declining all of the Max's call. I don't want to see him right now, I refuse to go back to his place, not after what happened at dinner.

I keep walking around Monaco. I’m angry, I’m sad and I’m also lost. Although Monaco is small, I have no idea where I am right now.

I look around myself before taking a deep breath and grabbing my phone. I decline yet another call from Max and call someone else, someone who because quiete important to me lately.

“Hello!” Lando answers the phone cheerfully

“Lan? I’m lost.”

“Lost? What do you mean your lost?” You can tell he is ruffling around his apartment “Aren’t you supposed to be at your brother’s?”

“Max and I got into a fight. I stormed out of his apartment and I don’t know where I am right now.”

“Okay, okay. Share your location with me, I’m coming to get you.”

You share your location with Lando, waiting quietly at the bench I found while wondering around. I know Monaco is a relatively safe place, but I don't like the idea of being on my own right here, especially after what happened tonight.

Soon enough I watch one of Lando's many cars pulling up to a stop in front of me. Before I can stand up, he had already left the car and is walking quickly towards me.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking all over my body

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for getting me."

He nods, helping me get into the passenger seat of his car. He closes the door before running around to the other side of the car.

"So…" He breaks the silence

I sigh, wondering what am I going to do now. I don't want to go back to Max's place, but I don't really have anywhere else to go.

"Can we… drive around for a bit?" I ask after a few more minutes of silence.

"Of course."

Lando drives us around, the windows open and my hair flying around in the wind. I look up at the sky, staring at the moon that shines down on us. I smile softly, I wish I was up at the sky right now, beside the moon, watching down the earth and people going on with their lives.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lando asks in a soft tone.

I turn to look at him. He has his eyes focused on the road, and although he is very close friends with my brother, I feel like I can tell him about the situation that took place at dinner tonight.

"Max invited me to stay the week at his place, and when I arrived everything was fine, until…" I sigh, pressing a hand on my face "Until dinner. He invited our father without telling me about it."

Lando grimaces, knowing that my relationship with Jos Verstappen isn't the best in the world.

"But it gets worse."

He turns to look at me briefly, eyes wide "Worse?!"

I nod, chuckling, but there is no humor behind it.

"My vater started to berate me about all the online hate I'm getting regarding the situation with Mick. He said everything people are saying is true, that I am a slut, that I am a homewrecker and that's why I will never be as important or as talented or good enough as Max. He just said so many fucking horrible things."

"And what did Max do?" He asks in hesitation.

"Nothing, he did absolutely nothing. He sat there, in silence, as our vater verbally abused me."

Lando huffs, I can tell by the clench of his jaw that he is irritated with the situation.

“Nothing? He did defend you?”

I roll my eyes “No, he doesn’t stand up to our vater. He never did and he never will. I on the contrary Always spoke my mind and that’s why I’m the less favorite child.”

He sights “That’s horrible, I didn’t know Max did that you, he seems like…”

“A good brother? Don’t get me wrong, he is a really good brother, but when it comes to our vater I just wish for once he would have my back. That’s why I just left his place.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I don’t want to go back to his place.”

Lando shakes his head “You don’t have to. You can stay with me.”

“I don’t want to intrude, I will book a hotel room.”

“That is not up for discussion, you are staying with me.”

And at that he accelerate the cars, making me squeal in surprise.

“Let’s enjoy the ride.” Lando says, grinning at me.

Yn.verstappen: My new single Fast Times and Fast Nights is out now, enjoy

Liked by landonorris, kikacerqueira and others

Logansargent: That’s a really cool song, why didn’t I listen to it before like the others?

Oscarpiastri: I feel betrayed, why didn’t you send me the lyrics to this one?

Landonorris: Fast nights, uh?

Yn.verstappend: With the fastest driver

User1: WHAT IS GOING ON

User2: What is this comment with Lando?????

User3: FAST TIMES AND FAST NIGHTS IS THIS ABOUT THE NIGHT THERE WERE PICTURES OF LANDO AND YN DRIVING AROUND MONACO????

#fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 10 months ago

Text

'Fake' Feelings

Zuko x Reader

Summary- In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

A/N- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thethreeeyed-raven!!!!! This isn't my typical fandom as y'all know. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my best best best online friend. SHE'S AWESOME. Go check her fics out <3<3! CONTAINS A SINGLE BAD WORD >:)

Word Count- 2,468

"Mai, I already told you. I can't be with you!" Zuko was getting frustrated. While he did love Mai at one point, that was a long time ago. Zuko was now the Fire Lord, their relationship seemed like ages ago.

"And why not Zuko? We've been through this a hundred times. You always come running back, you're so pathetic. May as well cut the middle part and we can act like nothing happened." She stepped closer, pressing herself on his arm. "Like we always do..."

Zuko had finally realized how Mai controlled him. When he was weaker he was naive, now he knew what he wanted. Someone who never put him down, someone who never called him 'Pathetic.'

You.

He immediately thought of you. How you were so strong, but never put others down to feel powerful. How you always spoke your mind, but only out of the kindness you hid deep down.

Your walls were built up so high, but he knew who you were. He knew how beautiful you were.

"I can't be with you because I'm dating someone else." The words left his mouth faster than he could think.

This stopped Mai in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one I am allowed to go out with. We've been broken up for awhile now." Zuko was no longer on the defense, but the attack.

"You do know that I am the only one who could love you. Who could love a traitor, a banished prince. Who else, huh?" Her arms were crossed, a smirk on her face. She knew she outwitted him.

Releasing his bit lip, Zuko exclaims your name.

Her face dropped. She knew exactly who you were. She was furious.

"We'll see about that..." With that, she left the room.

You were on your way to visit Zuko, one of your closest friends, for a 'friend reunion' Sokka had planned. You were of course excited to see him after so long. Though, the ride on Appa was miserable. About a hundred "are we there yet"s and "I'm hungry"s from Sokka.

The five of you- Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Aang made it safely to The Fire Nation shortly.

Upon landing, a man in red robes greeted everyone.

"The Fire Lord sends his deepest regards, as he could not see to you himself. You are instructed to follow me to your rooms." He had a stoic expression, but you guessed he greeted people all the time.

Oh well, Zuko must be very busy as a Fire Lord. You were sad, but couldn't blame him.

What you didn't know was that Zuko was pacing his room, definitely not busy. In reality, he cleared his schedule as much as possible for the week you were all visiting.

How was he going to tell you? He was deeply embarrassed, not to mention Mai might try and pull something with you. He knew not to underestimate her.

The thought of her trying to hurt you was enough to rack up the nerve to confess. He just needed a moment alone with you.

A grand dinner was prepared for the Avatars arrival, the rest of you reaped the rewards of being his friends.

"This is SOO good!" Sokka exclaimed, "Zuko sure has a way with food....." He slammed a fist on the table, before quickly lifting more food to his mouth,

"Sokka, you know he has chefs who make the food, right? Please tell me you know that..." You deadpanned, looking at him.

"Uh... Yeah! Yeah, definitely...." He looked down, that was until a new voice appeared.

"Sokka, did you really think I cooked all this?" Zuko walked to the seat at the head of the table. You noticed you were sat to his right.

It was a Fire Nation tradition that the Lady of the house would sit to the right of the Lord... You brushed the thought off quickly, writing it all off as a coincidence.

"W-well I don't know! You've been working ALL DAY!" Sokka squawked.

The dinner went on smoothly, well as smoothly a dinner can go with this group. You could feel the servants and servers rolling their eyes at all the unprofessional comments, jokes, and laughter.

You didn't care, you were just happy Zuko was able to be himself.

Hours later, when everyone was worn out and had their stomachs filled, they started to head to bed.

You were one of the last to leave, having been helping tidy up as much as you could.

You thanked and farewelled the servers, trying your best to remember where your room was.

The Palace was much bigger than you remembered. The halls upon halls blurred together. You were soon lost.

Every direction you turned looked the same, you started to breathe heavy.

You could already see it, 'cause of death, starvation in the Fire Nation Palace.' Or maybe dehydration would take you quicker?

A man passed by, you were saved! Though, the closer you got the bigger his scowl grew.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me?" You were nervous asking, it was so 'common' for someone to get lost in a palace. You were sure your cheeks were red.

His face was dark, his eyes covered by his demeanor. For some reason he seemed annoyed at you.

"Sir?"

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind. It started you, putting you into a 'fight mode.'

Turning around swiftly calmed your nerves as quickly as they came. It was Zuko.

"Can I help you?" Zuko was talking to the strange man, who was no longer so 'big and bad.'

"No Fire Lord Zuko, my apologies." He barred his head in a bow and left.

You had a small smile on your lips, "Thanks, he was starting to scare me." While you were positive you could have taken the man, you were tired and didn't really feel like fighting.

"Of course, I can show you to your room." He held his arm out, you took it.

The gesture was friendly, you told yourself. Nothing more.

You must have been lost for awhile, as it took a few minutes to get to your room. The small talk exchanged was nice, but something told you Zuko was hiding something.

At your door, he stopped. "Zuko, do you want to come in? You seem restless."

"Actually, I do have something to tell you..." The tone of his voice scared you.

"Oh, then please sit." He joined you on the edge of your end. The door shut behind you two.

You pushed a strand of hair back, nervously sitting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this... I really am ashamed to have to ask you for a really big favor..." You had seen him on edge a lot, he was quite the stressor. Nothing like this, though.

"Zuko, anything. What do you need me to do?" You questioned.

He looked down at his hands, "You can tell me. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

"I uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I told Mai that we were dating so she would stop trying to get with me." He spit out so fast you almost missed what he said.

"Oh."

Well that's not what you thought he would say...

"That's not the worst part." He lowered his face to his hands, "The ball in four days, well I told her you were going with me... She's got Ty Lee lining up suitors for her. Trying to make me mad. Also she uh, she's probably told everyone now..."

"Oh." You were at a loss for words.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry. This is stupid, at the ball I'll tell everyone what happened. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen! It just slipped out an-"

"Zuko."

"Yes?"

"What if you don't have to tell everyone?"

You hadn't looked at him since he started talking. Honestly, a night with Zuko at a ball? It sounded like a dream. Zuko was handsome, kind, generous, and you'd had a crush on him for months. You knew he wouldn't ever really date you... So you might as well seize the opportunity, right? What could go wrong!

The two of you decided it would be wise to not tell anyone else it was fake, as Sokka, Toph, and Aang had big mouths. They'd slip up sooner or later. As for Katara, she wouldn't have kept that big of a secret from Aang.

So, for the next few days you and Zuko spent every second together. At first, it was coming up with plans for the ball. It turned into getting more physically comfortable with each other. That eventually escalated to spilling each other's deepest secrets, ya know... just in case...

Even in four days, you found yourself going from a crush to madly in love. You found out his quirks, what made him tick, his hidden likes and dislikes. Not a second was spent apart.

The afternoon before the ball you were stressed. It had been easy up until the ball. You just had to be yourself around Zuko, now you had to pretend in front of hundreds...

Katara helped you pick out a beautiful red and black dress. To match Zuko's of course.

A big scene was planned out between the two of you, Zuko would introduce you to everyone in an announcement and you'd walk don't the grand starts arm in arm with him.

It was fun to imagine and talk about, but now the 'what ifs' were running wild.

You somehow made your way to Zuko's room, knocking hesitantly. He begrudgingly opened, but became excited when he saw you.

"Zuko, I'm terrified." He quickly guided you into his room.

"What happened?"

"What if I fall? What if no one likes me? It's a lot of steps it-" He cut you off.

"Hey, it's okay... We can throw everything out the window. Just saw the words."

You swallowed thick. "No, no just... Just promise you'll be there? For me?"

Your name was a whisper on his lips, "Ill always be here for you... Just imagines its only us up there... Just normal day."

You nodded, more relaxed knowing he'd be by your side through I tall. It also gave you a wicked feeling of comfort to know he was still willing to do whatever you preferred. He would have ended the lie immediately if you asked, but you wanted to be there for him as well. To make sure Mai would leave him alone.

The Palace was bustling with people, waiters, food, activities, and entertainment. It all came to an abrupt stop when Lord Zuko appeared.

It was comical, trumpets blared and all head turned.

"Fire Lord Zuko, accompanied by-" Your name seemed unreal on his lips. To be announced with a Fire Lord? You felt you didn't deserve it.

You slowly walked into view of everyone, whispers erupting. To be 'accompanied by' was essentially dating for Lords and Ladys.

All eyes were on you as you took Zuko's arm, walking down the steps. You felt light, your grip tightening on Zukos.

"Almost there, I'm right here." His words were all the comfort you needed.

Music resumed and the party goers continued their fun.

That was expect for one person. Mai. She marched up to you, her questioning eyes on guard. Watching her march over sparked a fury in you, the fire started and didn't stop until you spoke.

"Hello Mai. How can I help you? Is your father well, since he lost his job as Governor and all..." You passively aggressively asked, a mock frown on your face.

"What would you know about Governor dad's and all? You grew up poor." Damn, she got you there.

"I guess the difference in poor and rich is personality. Cause you don't have one..." You shrugged your shoulders at her, biting back a laugh.

"At least Zuko loved me for who I am, not who I was pretending to be." She remarked, not really knowing why Zuko loved her or you.

"Damn Mai, you must know a lot about pretending. Seeing as you're a two faced bitch. Should I go and tell Ty Lee you called her an 'easy bed'." A gasp left her lips in shock, how did you know she said that? Well, you wouldn't tell her, but a gossiping Fire Sage spilled the beans.

Zuko, who had been temporarily called away to exchange pleasantries with a Navy Captain, had returned.

"Mai, I see you've met my girlfriend." He said, snaking a hand around your waist. Chills were sent up your spine.

She gave a scoff, "It'll never last. You're only in it because he's the Fire Lord." She pointed to you, then him, "And you, you just seemed to pick up the next girl you saw laying around. Talk about a downgrade. When you get tired of her, i'll be waiting." She walked away.

"What is her problem!" You exclaimed, face hot with anger.

"Jealousy, I think." He said.

You turned to face him completely. "What for, she doesn't even seem to like you anymore?"

"Maybe cause you're prettier than her?" He said, not realizing his own words.

Your cheeks were now flushed for a different reason. You swiped your lips with your tongue before speaking, "Thank you..."

Hours of dancing, partying, and eating went by. Everyone bought the act easily, you and Zuko were naturals at dating. The fun died down, and many were starting to go back home.

Zuko walked you back to your room, hand in hand.

"Thank you. I really cannot thank you enough, just ask. Whatever you want is yours." Zuko said, still grasping your hands at your bedroom door.

"I don't need anything. This was really fun actually, I know you were just pretending... but i've had the best time the past five days."

"Pretend?" His face screwed up, like he was in denial.

You blinked a few times, own lip curling. "Well, I mean... You made it pretty clear this was all just an act. I-I am not hurt." You were, but wouldn't let him know.

"Words cannot express how genuine these days have been... Oh gosh, I haven't felt this free since I was a child." He pressed on, serious.

"Y-you mean, none of this has been fake to you?"

"Well, I know you signed up for 'fake'." He looked over you, face uncertain.

With a step forward you spoke, "This hasn't been fake for me either..."

"Really?" He pressed his chest to your slightly, hand wavering around your waist. "Because I don't think I could live if you're lying right now."

"Will this answer your questions?" You leaned up, closing the gap and kissing him.

A/N-Thank you for reading, I haven't fully watched ATLA In a little bit sorry if Zuko is OOC!! When it's not midnight and I'm not super tired, I will edit any mistakes!

#avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar aang #Zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader #katara atla #mai atla #fire nation #azula

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

Text

stuck with me

alexia x reader

alexia and r get into an argument just before the holiday break, as the stress of ale's knee injury bubbles over. r loses... a lot of sleep over it. alexia makes it up to her, even though she really doesn't have to.

no warnings :)

To be fair to Alexia, she didn't know you had sleep issues. How could she, when she'd practically been the cure for them? You'd had sleep problems long before you'd gotten together with Alexia, but they had... stopped, magically, when you started sharing a bed. Neither of you spent many nights alone once you got together, so most nights, you slept well, curled up against your steady, dependable girlfriend.

The exceptions were, obviously, when you went home for breaks without her and when you both had to go on national duty. You slept fine at home, away from the stresses of your job, in the comfort of the place you'd grown up in. Normally.

And in regards to national duty, you were lucky to have incredibly teammates. Lucy knew of your problem, and also knew that sleeping in the same bed as someone else was helpful. It wasn't Alexia, and it wasn't perfect, but you slept. You knew you'd have to find a solution when [if] Lucy retired, but for now, there was no reason why you'd spend more than the odd night without Alexia.

That was, of course, until her knee re-injury. Before the following surgery and holiday break. And the not insignificant fight that you'd gotten into with her around that time. It was a tough time for her, you knew, and she was coping with it the best she could. You'd been hovering over her, you knew that too.

You were just so worried, all the time. Alexia was so miserable not being able to play, so frustrated with her knee that sometimes you thought she was finally just going to breakdown and herself feel it all. She never did, though. Not until the day her and the medical team had decided on surgery. It was a few days before you were do back in England for the holidays, and you'd already been considering cancelling, and staying with your girlfriend. She needed you, physically and emotionally.

You really should have waited to bring up your plans to stay until she was in a better mood. Instead, you'd suggested it to her over a very quiet dinner, after the date for the arthroscopy had been set.

-----

"I'm gonna cancel my plane tickets to London, I think. Stay here with you." You suggested casually.

"What?" Alexia asked, dropping her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter.

"I want to spend Christmas here. You're having surgery and-"

"No."

"No?" You said, slightly hurt by the tone of voice she was using.

"No, you have to go home and see your family. I will be fine here."

"Ale, I want to be here."

"I do not need you here." Alexia said finally, avoiding your gaze. You knew she didn't mean it; she was in pain, frustrated, anxious, and trying not to inconvenience you. Still, you felt your eyes fill with tears at the rejection, and you nodded silently, before turning back to your food. You wouldn't cry, couldn't add any more stress to Alexia's already insane load of it.

"Now you will not talk to me?" Alexia asked. You looked up at her in shock, surprised that the next words out of her mouth hadn't been an apology.

"Just leave it, Alexia. I'll be out of your way tomorrow." You said back quietly, allowing some of the sadness you were feeling seep into your voice.

"Do not be like that. You tell me all the time to tell you what I need, and what I need is for you to go to England and see your family."

"Alright, Ale. I got it. You want me to go, I understand." You tried your hardest to keep your voice steady, but it still shook towards the end of the sentence.

"Amor, stop. That is not what I am saying and you know it," Alexia argued.

"I don't really know what you're saying, Alexia. It sounds like you want me to go."

Alexia exhaled loudly, before pushing her chair away from the table and standing up.

"I cannot deal with you if you are going to be like this." She snapped, before slamming her plate into the sink and marching off to the bedroom.

You didn't understand, not really. It seemed like she didn't want you here. Because that's exactly what she had been saying to you. You knew it wasn't really you that was the problem, it was Alexia's inability to allow you to see how upset she was.

This was reinforced when you went into the bedroom a little while later to pack. The shower was on, but you could still hear her crying over the soft patter of water. You knocked on the door, prepared to let the fight go in favor of making sure she was okay, but the little whimpers and shaky breaths cut off abruptly, and she didn't say anything else.

She kept you at arms length for the rest of the night, only speaking when she asked you to come to bed, an olive branch she was extending. You did, but you both kept to your own sides of the bed. You didn't sleep well that night.

Alexia hugged you goodbye the next day at the airport, and you thought she held you a bit tighter than normal. She handed you a little note, requested that you read it on the plane, and softly kissed your cheek, before allowing you to go through security.

The note had been a lengthy apology, scrawled in her familiar loopy, messy handwriting, confirming that everything you thought was going on with her was correct. She was stressed, she didn't want you to worry, or change your plans for her. She shouldn't have yelled, or been so cruel, and she hadn't meant it. She loved you. So much, she said. Things would be better after her surgery.

You'd thanked her for her apology once you'd landed. You'd spoken, often, since then, but there was still so much tension. You were both busy with family, and there wasn't really any time to have an in depth conversation about what had transpired.

You knew the surgery had gone well, they'd fixed the problem, and that Alexia was doing much better. The second part wasn't something that she had to tell you, it was obvious in the increase in texts, and the mushiness that she included. Whenever she went through a hard time, she closed herself off, and when it ended, she'd always overcompensate, feeling guilty, until she went back to normal. That was Alexia, and you loved her.

-----

The biggest casualty of this fight was, unfortunately, your sleep. You struggled while you were home, when normally, you slept fine there. Obviously not as well as when you were with Alexia, but fine. This time, though, you barely slept. Nothing worked, and the only time you were able to sleep was when your body literally shut down, forcing you to sleep for a few hours every other day or so. You were sure it was because of this unresolved fight, and you knew that once you physically saw your girlfriend, you'd be fine. Especially once you could go back to falling asleep on her chest, the steady beat of her heart making you feel warm, and safe, and comfortable.

This was why you'd cut your trip short, and were currently touching down in Spain, a full 5 days before you were supposed to return home. That, and you missed Alexia. You knew she was slightly confused; you'd been weirdly distant while you'd been gone, because you were exhausted, but she didn't know that. She assumed you were mad, until you told her you were coming home early. After that, she gave up trying to figure out what was going on with you, and focused herself on cleaning the apartment, going grocery shopping for all your favorite things, and buying you flowers. She'd been awful, she knew it, and she was determined to make it up to you.

-----

Alexia was waiting for you by baggage claim; you saw her once you got halfway down the escalator. She was leaned against the wall, baseball cap sat over her blonde hair. She was wearing an old England sweatshirt of yours, and you couldn't help the grin that your lips lifted into at the sight. Your beautiful, perfect, girlfriend, head on an absolute swivel, determined not to miss you.

You saw the moment she she saw you, too, her lips turning up at the corners, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if she could barely contain herself from running to you, which she wasn't yet supposed to do. You got down the escalator and over to her in probably an embarrassingly short amount of time, taking care not to put too much of your weight on her, minding her healing knee.

"Amor," she sighed into your hair, arms holding you almost painfully tight.

"Hi, beautiful," you said back, words almost swallowed by her [your] sweatshirt, and the noisy crowds around you.

"Te extrañé mucho de menos," Alexia murmured, pulling back from the hug to pull you in for a kiss. She froze, however, eyebrows scrunching adorably, as she finally got a good look at your face. You knew what she was looking at. "Are you sick?" She asked, feeling your forehead with the back of her hand.

"No, not sick. Just a little tired."

She looked at you skeptically, hand unmoving from your forehead until you pushed it away and leaned up, pursing your lips expectantly. She smiled, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. She pulled away much to soon in your opinion, laughing at your disgruntled expression.

"You need sleep, amor. We can go home and you can rest. Once you sleep, I will give you all the kisses you want, okay?"

"Fineeee," you sighed, allowing Alexia to take your hand, and lead you off to find your bag. She insisted on wheeling it out to the car, even though she was actively recovering from surgery, but she seemed determined to spoil you today.

You sat in content silence in the car, your girlfriend's hand intertwined with yours. You felt that you should have been sleepy, but you were completely wired, eyes open wide, tapping your knee repetitively.

"Do you want to tell me what is going on?" Alexia asked finally, about 10 minutes into the drive. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, spotting the way you went rigid at her question.

"What do you mean?"

"Amor, come on. You look like you have not slept in days." Your only response is a shrug, as you turn your attention out the window.

"Hey. Why did you not sleep?" Alexia insisted, pulling on your hand to get you to pay attention to her.

"I missed you." You replied finally, feeling Alexia's hand tighten around yours.

"I missed you too. That is why you did not sleep well?"

"I... I never used to sleep very well. Until I started sleeping next to you, and then I slept fine. I normally don't have problems sleeping when I go home, though, but this time... I think I was just stressed about our argument."

"I did not know that." Alexia said quietly. "You never told me."

"I know, I know. It just didn't seem like a big deal, because it wasn't, once I was with you."

Your girlfriend looked like she had a million questions, but she didn't ask them. "I am so sorry our fight made you lose sleep. I was completely unfair to you. You do not need to worry about anything now, though, okay? I made your favorite for dinner, if you are hungry. If not, we can just go right to bed. I am yours for the rest of break, whatever you need."

"Really?"

"Really."

-----

You ate the delicious dinner Alexia had cooked, and then took a warm shower. When you got out, you noticed that Alexia had completely unpacked for you, and laid out your favorite pajamas. She was already in the bed, despite it barely being 7pm, looking adorably cozy in a big sweatshirt, the hood tugged up over her head.

"Ale, we don't need to go to sleep now, it's early, you're probably not tired." You said as you pulled the pajamas on. The exhaustion was starting to hit you, and you wanted to promise that you could stay up until a normal time, but you weren't sure you could.

"A bit tired. Whether I fall asleep or not, I want to be right here. Anyway, I should put my knee up." Alexia said dismissively, patting the bed next to her.

"Ale," you began but she shook her head.

"No arguments, bebita. Get in bed." You sighed dramatically, but did as she asked, climbing under the covers and scooting right over to Alexia, as though she was a magnet. You settled against her, shutting your eyes. You heard the lamp flick off, and felt Alexia wrap an arm around you, tugging you into her side.

You tried to fall asleep. Really, you had no idea why you couldn't. You were here, with Alexia, and you should have been able to sleep, easily, especially considering how tired you were. You couldn't manage it though, quickly getting annoyed when your brain wouldn't just turn off.

After the 6th time you shifted positions, Alexia kissed the side of your head, and spoke. "Having a hard time?"

"Yes," you mumbled, burying your face in her chest.

"Be patient. You are exhausted, you will fall asleep soon. Just relax." Alexia encouraged, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

Another 10 minutes passed, in which you felt no closer to sleep. Rolling off of Alexia with a huff, you glared up at the ceiling. Next to you, Alexia rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to gaze down at you.

"You are putting too much pressure on yourself. It is just sleeping, bonita." She said quietly, running a soft finger over your cheek.

Tears of frustration beginning to pool in your eyes. It was just sleeping. It should be easy. You were just realizing for the first time how incredibly tired you were, and how difficult the past couple days had been.

"Do not cry, por favor," Alexia pleaded.

"I can't, I can't fall asleep." Alexia looked at you sympathetically, thumbs wiping away the tears that fell. She sat both of you up after a minute. "Take off your shirt," she instructed, pulling her own over her head, leaving her with only a sports bra on.

"I'm too tired for sex," you cried, the thought only making you more upset; you had missed your girlfriend. A lot. The fact that you were too tired to do anything about it was painful.

"Not sex, amor, just take your shirt off." Alexia insisted, pulling at the hem. You did as she asked, looking rather miserable. You, too, were left in only your bra, but Alexia's eyes were only on yours as she laid back down, rolling onto her side and pulling you in so your head was pressed right over her bare chest, where her heart was.

Your body relaxed without you telling it to, the feeling of Alexia, and only Alexia, engulfing you. Your skin was pressed to hers, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume, feeling her hands rub rhythmically up and down your bare back.

"There you go," she said into your hair, feeling your body sag against hers. "Sleep for me, okay?" She asked.

You couldn't have told her no if you wanted to. Your eyes shut almost immediately, and you felt suddenly so peaceful, brain slowing down until you were only thinking about how good your girlfriend felt against you.

-----

When you woke up, you knew you'd been asleep for a while, if the amount of light flooding the room was any indication. It was bright, even with your eyes shut, which indicated that it was past noon; the sun only came in through the bedroom window after noon. Your body felt stiff but, for the first time in a while, you felt well rested. You were content to wake up slowly, enjoy the comfort of your bed

You attempted to roll over, searching for Alexia's side of the bed so you could use her pillow, (you swore it was comfier). Instead, you rolled right into Alexia herself, and heard her let out a soft laugh. You cracked your eyes open, finding Alexia laying on her back, arm still tucked around your shoulders. Her fingers flitted through your hair, and you relaxed back into her, scooting closer until your head was crammed into the crook of her neck.

"Why are you still in bed?" You mumbled into her. Her body vibrated under yours as she laughed again.

"Are you complaining?" She teased, clearly referencing the way you'd moved yourself so that every part of your body possible was be touching hers.

"No. It has to be late, though. You've been sleeping fine, you didn't have to stay in bed with me." You told her.

"I always sleep better with you, amor. I wanted you to rest, as much as you needed. You are cute when you sleep, anyway. Your nose scrunches up and you make little sounds when you roll around." Alexia murmured into your hair, and you didn't have to see her face to know she was blushing at the information she'd just revealed.

You left a kiss on her neck, before pulling away so you could see her face. "What time is it?"

Alexia didn't say anything, a slightly guilty expression on her face.

"Alexia Putellas, what time is it?" You demanded.

"3PM." She told you quietly.

"3PM?" You shouted, sitting upright in the bed. Sure enough, the clock on the nightstand reflected the time back to you. You'd slept the whole day away. Two of you didn't have any plans, but still.

"How much did you sleep while you were gone? Really, amor? The least I could do was help you rest." Alexia avoided your eyes.

"What do you mean the least you could do?" You asked, softening your tone.

"I was so horrible to you before you left. And then our fight made you not sleep well," the blonde explained, looking miserable.

"And you apologized, Ale. You were under a lot of stress, I get it." You really weren't mad anymore.

"No, that is not good enough. I have to make it up to you. I wanted you here with me, more than anything, but you have already done so much, and I did not want to ruin your Christmas." Alexia insisted, getting seemingly worked up.

"Alexia, I understand. You said all of this in your note."

"I want to say it again." Alexia said stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Look at me." You instructed, turning face towards you with a hand on her cheek when she refused. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "Amor, I forgive you. I told you I forgave you, when I read your letter. Do you not believe me?" You wondered, as your girlfriend didn't look the least bit relieved at you letting her off the hook.

"I believe you, it is just that...no se como decirlo." She sighed.

"Try, please. We've fought before, Alexia, worse than this. What is it about this one that is making you so upset?" You pressed, not relenting even as she shrugged in response.

"I do not want to lose you," Alexia whispered finally, a single tear sliding down her face, as she clenched her jaw, trying to keep together.

"Baby, you are not going to lose me." You promised, moving closer to take her hand in yours. "I knew you didn't mean what you said. You apologized, Alexia, it was just a stupid fight. We got past it, just like we'll get past every fight. Always."

"But what if I push you away again? And you get tired of it, and leave?"

"You could never push me away. I might give you space when you need it, but I will always be here for you. Even when you try to pretend you don't need me. I could never get tired of you, Alexia, and I could never leave you. Ever." You said the words slowly, trying to gauge if she believed you or not.

Although she looked slightly unsure, she did look less upset than she had a minute ago, her face relaxing somewhat as she finally look into your eyes.

"You're stuck me with, Ale. For as long as you want me." Alexia let out a wet laugh.

"I will always want you." She said, pulling you in closer to press her lips to yours. The kiss grew heated quickly, until you were straddling her lap, checking multiple times that her knee was unbothered by the position. She promised that it was fine, distracting you by sliding her hands up your sides, and pulling you back in for another messy kiss.

"Alexia, that is not exactly what I meant," you joked, pulling away briefly as she pulled your bra over your head.

"Me neither, but it has been days, and I have missed you. Let me show you how much I have missed you. Please?" Alexia asked, surprisingly shy as she ran her hand up and down your abdomen, teasing at the hem of your shorts.

You leaned in, you agreement clear in the way your lips met hers, tongue slipping in after a minute. As if you'd ever say no to that offer. You don't think you'd ever say no to anything Alexia asked you. Your love for her was the kind that transcended every issue that could possibly come up. It was you and her, forever.

-----

inspired by my inability to sleep <3 [and my deep belief that sleeping next to a pretty girl would solve all my problems]

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso one shot

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