#if I had to suffer in this thought so do you
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
formula-ghost · 3 days ago
Text
Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)
Chapter 3
Tumblr media
CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve reached your breaking point with Oscar, but an unfortunate grand prix changes everything you thought you wanted. 
WORD COUNT: 10.3k
WARNINGS: Conversations about sex and but no actual smut, degradation, angst. Mentions of cheating. Oscar is literally horrible. Mention of unhealthy family dynamics. Lots of cursing. Pain, so much pain. Mention of injury. I’m so sorry for all the emotional suffering this chapter will cause. 
TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Tumblr media
Accept message request from Lando_Norris?
Your fingers hovered over the “accept” button, nervous but curious. What would Lando ever want to talk to you about?
He had avoided you like the plague since that night in Italy, and you hardly blamed him. But as far as you knew, no one except you and Nicole knew that Lily was no longer in the picture; still, what would have changed to cause Lando Norris, of all people, to be messaging you at night?
“Who are you texting?” 
You jumped, not having noticed that Oscar had turned over to face you, seemingly unable to sleep.
“No one,” you said. “Just scrolling.”
Oscar confirmed your suspicions. “I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” you said, short and annoyed. 
Oscar didn’t respond, instead just moving on top of you, holding your chin in his hands to force you to look at him.
“You can’t even sleep until I fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?” He leaned down to kiss your neck, lips grazing over where only hours before he had left dark marks in the supple skin.
“Get off me, Oscar,” you said, and he immediately pulled back.
“You okay?” he asked.
You weren’t okay. In fact, you were furious. “You realize that you never even asked me if I was okay with you talking to me like that?”
The look in his eyes said only two words: Oh shit.
“YN, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of it like that. Shit, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to treat me with respect.”
“I thought you liked it?” he said, running his fingers through his hair out of nervousness.
You sat up, the anger burning within you. You hadn’t planned to confront Oscar so soon after what you had overheard, but now that you’d gotten started, there was no stopping you. 
“That’s not the point. Maybe I’m tired of feeling like your personal sex toy, Oscar. Oh, but I forgot. My feelings aren’t your problem.”
Oscar exhaled angrily. “Is that really what this is about?”
You just looked at him, bewildered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.
He began, “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard—”
“I heard you talking shit about me on the phone to your own mother.”
“It wasn’t like that, YN.”
“Then what was it like? What’s your excuse now?”
Oscar tried to begin, his mouth opening with no words coming out. He truly didn’t know what to say. “It’s been a hard time.”
“I know. I’m well aware, Oscar. Because I made your feelings my problem for years.”
“I know, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”
“I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to explain it to you.”
“Of course, you want to talk now that I won’t give you sex anymore,” you said, rolling your eyes. 
“Oh my God,” Oscar huffed, and it took every ounce of your strength not to curse him out then and there. “You act like I’m some fucking villian. You can’t get mad at me for fucking you when you wanted this too.”
“But how do you know that, Oscar? How do you know what I want? Have you ever asked me what I want?” Tears began prickling at the edge of your eyes. “You haven’t, because you don’t care.”
Oscar looked at the wall, his jaw tense. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Am I not even deserving of an honest conversation?” you said, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you cry, but Oscar wouldn’t even look at you. 
You got up from the bed and started changing from your pajamas to your regular clothes. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. I can’t make you. But I’m going home.”
“YN—”
“Leave me alone,” you said, grabbing your purse and exiting the bedroom. You heard him call for you again, but you ignored his pleas, walking ahead out of the apartment and to your car.
When you slid into the driver’s seat, you finally broke down, resting your head against the steering wheel. No thoughts went through your head. You weren’t much of a crier, so when you finally gave in, it was more of an act of your body giving up.
So you took a few minutes to compose yourself before driving the short distance home through the streets of Monaco, a place you’d grown to love. But his presence was everywhere. The car. The streets. Your apartment. Oscar was inescapable.
And when you felt your phone buzz as you sat with a cup of tea on the balcony an hour or so later, this reality was confirmed. He was calling. 
You didn’t answer the first call, or the second. But by the third you knew that your only options were to turn your phone off, block him, or answer.
Well, what did you have to lose?
“What do you want?” you asked upon picking up the call. 
“I’m sorry, YN. Can we talk?”
“Say whatever you’re going to say.”
He paused. “In person? I’m in the hallway.”
“I don’t know…”
“Please?” he asked. You sighed. Why could you never say no to this man?
“Fine. Give me a sec.” You hung up the call, took another deep breath, and opened the front door before immediately turning around to go back to your balcony. You couldn’t bear to look at him, and you welcomed the sound of the soft waves lapping at the harbor as a buffer.
He sat down beside you, and even before any words were said, you felt the tears returning. Something about this felt…final. And your intuition had hardly ever been wrong before. 
“YN, I’m so sorry. When I get frustrated I say things I don’t mean. I was really out of line earlier.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, unable to truly accept his apology.
He continued, “And you’re right. I shouldn’t have just assumed that all the rough stuff was okay. And I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
You waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but he didn’t. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I just…don’t know what else you want me to say.” You looked over to him. His head was hung low, like a child in trouble at school. Not like a man who was taking accountability for his actions.
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“What?” he asked. 
You just stared at him for a moment, gathering the courage to ask your question.
“Did you talk to Lily like that?”
“Huh?” he echoed.
“Did you call her all those names? Degrade her?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s…personal. I don’t think Lily would appreciate me talking about it.”
“She didn’t appreciate me being in your life, either. But look how that turned out,” you said, the malice lingering on every word. 
Your statement cut a little too deep for comfort. But Oscar finally relented, answering, “...I would, sometimes. She didn’t care for it. But I just…get frustrated a lot. It helps me get all that pent up energy out. Half the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying.”
You hummed. The implication of his words hung in the air; you were a relief for his frustration, a thoughtless passtime. 
When you didn’t respond, he got nervous. “Did I…hurt you?”
“Not physically, no,” you answered, your eyes never moving from the sight of the harbor in the distance. “But I don’t think you really care.”
“Of course I care.”
“No, you don’t.” Your lip quivered. You tried to swallow the tears that came up, but you couldn’t.
“No, don’t cry,” Oscar said, reaching out to embrace you, but you avoided him, getting up to lean on the railing. He followed you, this time not offering any comforting touch. 
“What the fuck are we doing, Oscar?” you said, barely able to get the words out. He grasped for words but wasn’t able to find them before the flood of emotions spilled from you. 
You began, “I used to think that the fabric of our lives was…like, sewn together. Like we were destined to always be in each other's lives. But ever since the breakup I’m so afraid that everyone who ever warned me about you was right. I feel like all these years you’ve just been using me, stringing me along so you could have someone there when things don’t work out. Like I’m just your backup plan. Like I’m not even good enough for you to treat me like a human being.”
“You really feel like I’m using you?” Oscar asked, his surprise horrifically genuine. “Was I just using you when I went out of my way to call you every week for 4 years when I was away in school, even during exams and races? When I got you this place because I wanted to live close to my best friend?” His tone went from gentle to frenzied—not angry, but desperate, like he couldn’t even fathom it. “I mean, YN, what, did you want me to cheat on my girlfriend with you?”
You looked up at him, and he realized again that he had messed up again.
“No, that’s not what I wanted. I’d never do that to Lily because you know it’s been done to me.”
“I know, and was I not there for you when you needed me?” In a way, Oscar was right. When you had broken things off with your unfaithful ex, Oscar was the first to your rescue, staying with you for days while you could barely even function. “YN, what else do you want from me?”
“I want you to be honest about what’s going on between us.”
“We’re…. hooking up, I don’t know.”
“Is that all I am to you, a hookup? A friend with benefits?” Your soft tears became full on sobs now. “Oscar, I am in love with you! You are the love of my life. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t known exactly how I felt, for years now.”
“Of course I knew,” he whispered. 
“Then why would you do this to me? Why would you take advantage of me like this?”
Oscar had started crying now, too. 
“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“This isn’t fair, Oscar.”
“I’m sorry.”
A thick silence fell over the balcony. You knew that the conversation should be over now. There was nothing else you needed to say. But you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing the pointless hurt. 
“Do you even love me?”
“Don’t—”
“Can you even look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you don’t love me?”
“YN—” 
You didn’t even let him complete his sentence, instead walking back into your apartment and slamming our now cold mug into the sink. “Just go,” you said, your voice stern.
“YN, please—” Oscar said, following you inside the apartment. 
“Go!”
“You want the truth?” Oscar said, raising his voice to you for the first time since you’d ever known him. His eyes now flooded with tears, staining his cheeks. His hair was tousled, his under eye bags puffy and pronounced. He looked like a mess. 
“All I’ve ever wanted is the truth.”
“The truth,” he began, swallowing, his voice cracking as he spoke. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen.”
“No—”
“Yes, YN,” he said, his voice raising again.
“No, fuck you, Oscar, that’s not true!” You were both sobbing messes now. 
“Yes it is,” he begged, his voice ragged.
“Then why would you do this?”
“Because…” he paused, taking a deep breath and sniffling, trying to regain his composure. “Because we were best friends, and you lived with us, and I was so scared of fucking things up.”
“So you went and just found a girlfriend instead?”
“No, it…” he looked away from you and took a sharp exhale. “It wasn’t as simple as that. You…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “It was just…complicated. You were the girl who lived with us, like another sister, I mean, I couldn’t have feelings for you of all people. So I was so scared.”
He looked at the wall, scarating his neck, and continued. “And when I met Lily, it was all just…simple. Everyone liked her, she was nice, she’s smart. When I brought her home she fit right in, the fans loved her. She was everything I needed her to be, y’know?” He exhaled. 
His gaze fell to the floor and lingered as he continued. “I didn’t love her at first. I mean, I liked her, she was great, but it was more about just…filling a need, I guess. But I did fall in love with her later. I tried to love her with my whole heart, I really did. I thought that what I felt for you would just go away but obviously it didn’t. And then she fucking left me. As she should, honestly.”
Oscar nervously looked around the room until he could no longer avoid your piercing gaze, face frozen in disbelief.
“You’re horrible, Oscar.”
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“You used me. You used Lily. And all of this from the very beginning was about… my family? I’m sorry you all had to take me in because no one else would. I’m sorry I didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in London. I’m sorry that my parents are two pieces of shit that didn't want to take care of me when I was a literal child.”
“It’s not that—”
“But it is. That’s what you said.”
“It’s not you, YN. I mean, it was, but we’re not kids anymore. I love you. It was just… awful circumstances.”
“And now? What’s your excuse? I cut off my parents. And Lily fucking left you. So why are you just using me now?”
“It’s just too much right now. The breakup, the championship…I know if I try, I’ll just fuck it up. I lost Lily, I can’t lose you too.���
“Why? Because then you’ll have no one to warm your bed when you’re sad?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with!”
“You’re right, I don’t. Because the person I want to spend the rest of my life with is you, Oscar. But you don’t want me. You never have. I’m your backup plan until something better comes along. That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m not good enough for you, you don’t love me. I don’t even know who you are any more.”
“You said I was the love of your life,” Oscar said, his voice lowered now. 
“You are. But I’m not yours. I don’t care what you say you feel. If you really love someone, you don’t treat them like that.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s all I can say.”
You let out a shaky breath, exhausted of all energy from the fighting. You didn’t even have it in you to be angry anymore. 
“We shouldn’t do this. We should just go our separate ways and be done with it.”
“No, YN—”
“You have a championship to focus on, don’t you?” you said. 
“You’re my best friend,” he said through his tears. “I need you.”
“I’ll finish out my employment contract through the end of the season. You can sell the apartment. I’ll pay back Mum for anything she had to spend on me when we were younger.”
“YN, please,” he begged. 
“Don’t, Oscar,” you said, your voice soft now. “Just let me go.”
“Can I kiss you?”
The correct answer should be no. You should have told him to get the fuck out of your apartment and never come back. But it was Oscar. 
You didn’t answer him, instead just walking up to him and embracing him, letting him hold you in his strong arms as his lips met yours one last time. His lips were salty with tears, but for once his touch was soft and gentle.
When you pulled away, he stayed close to you, pressing his forehead down to yours. “I love you,” he whispered.
“Go home. You’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.”
You could call in sick to the United States Grand Prix in Miami; Oscar could not. 
Well, theoretically, he could. God knows the reserve drivers would be happy to take his place and show off in front of the teams that were always scouring for new blood. But he couldn’t back down now. Not with a trophy looming so ominously over his head.
And especially not in Miami. Everyone hated Miami. Everyone except Lando, that is. 
And as Oscar mindlessly paced the paddock back and forth, praying to God that no journalists would pester him for an interview, he couldn’t escape the reminder of his teammate’s victory. 
“Well, things seem to be heating up here in Miami! The race continues between McLaren teammates Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris in this early battle for the World Driver’s Championship. Piastri is putting in a valiant effort, but who can forget Lando Norris’ first victory here last year? It’s incredible to see how far he has come in such a short amount of time—”
He really needed to stop walking past the commentator’s box. 
This is usually when Oscar would try to find you in the paddock, or send you a text from halfway across the world. But he couldn’t do that anymore; you hadn’t quite barred him from communication, but what could he say?
He just needed to focus. Perform. Drown himself in the work. That’s what he told himself as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, away from the prying eyes of the media and the haunting words of the commentators. That’s what he told himself as he slipped on a set of headphones and nodded along as his race engineer spoke, acting as if he was paying attention. 
That’s what he told himself as he climbed into the car, took a deep breath, and pressed his foot to the gas. 
Thousands of miles away, in Monaco, you were supposed to be having dinner. Actually, you were supposed to be in Miami, taking photos of Oscar in all his glory.
But you couldn’t face him. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t even sleep.
In the corner of your living room sat a box with Oscar’s old stuff in it. You stared at it as if it had the eyes to stare back. Your hand mindlessly swirled your fork around your remaining food, now cold and mostly uneaten.
Why did this feel like a breakup?
You wanted to scream, but you’d already gotten noise complaints from the fight days prior. So instead, your apartment was deadly quiet. 
You sighed, moving to your bedroom and collapsing in the soft covers, having decided to give up and indulge yourself with a night of bed rotting. But even your bed felt empty. The sheets held a faint trace of Oscar’s scent. It would come out with a simple wash, but laundry was the furthest thing from your mind right now. 
You needed a distraction. You grabbed your phone and immediately went to social media to mindlessly scroll. 
But in your notifications was one you had nearly forgotten about: that message request from Lando. 
You opened it without even thinking, unfortunately sending the read receipt even though you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now. 
Hey, not to be weird but do you know if anything’s going on with Oscar? He’s been acting odd recently.
You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t escape your best friend. 
The message was sent a while ago—when the pair were in Bahrain, actually. You should have just deleted it and acted as if you never saw it. But you felt horribly awkward leaving Lando on read. 
Yeah, he and Lily broke up :(
Was the frown really necessary? Should you say more? You didn’t have the energy to think, sending the message without much fanfare. You locked your phone and put it back on your nightstand. 
But only a few moments later, it buzzed. Another message from Lando.
But…Lando was in Miami? At the circuit? He should be driving, not texting you. You opened your phone and clicked on the notification. 
Damn, that’s rough. I thought they were endgame. You in the paddock?
You raised an eyebrow. Why would Lando Norris, of all people, want to know where you are?
No, I’m back in Monaco. 
Another nearly instant reply. Ah, I was hoping to make a cameo on Oscar’s Instagram haha. You’ll be at Imola though?
This whole interaction felt…weird.
I will! I’ll be sure to get some good team shots lol
You tried to match his energy with your reply, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that this wasn’t right. But as you finally did put your phone down and retire for the night, your mind kept racing, coming to wildly different conclusions.
Maybe Lando did want to be friends. Maybe, now that Lily was out of the picture, he felt more comfortable around you. Maybe he was just trying to smooth things over with Oscar in the championship battle. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Or maybe you were so used to Oscar’s lying and manipulation that you couldn’t imagine someone talking to you just for the sake of friendship. 
You huffed to yourself as the thought crossed your mind. You pulled your blanket up and buried yourself in it, as if the thoughts were something physical you could hide from. You fell into a tense sleep.
Oscar couldn’t sleep, though. He could barely sleep back when he had you at his beck and call, let alone when you all weren’t speaking to each other.
How had he fucked up so badly? He brought his hands to his face and roughly exhaled. Like you, he had resigned himself to spend his night scrolling, until he too noticed an unanswered message. 
Except it wasn’t from Lando. It was from Lily. As if things couldn’t get any worse. 
She was brief and to the point.
I just wanted to let you know I’ll be at Imola for a company event. I doubt we’ll run into each other. Hope you and YN are well. 
Her words stung. The professionalism where there once was warmth and love. The perfectly petty dig at him and you, assuming that he had already moved on (though, she wasn’t exactly wrong). 
He wanted to throw his phone off his hotel room balcony. From the slight crack in the blinds, he could see palm trees, and the ocean far off in the distance. And he knew that back in Monaco, you’d be staring at the same moon, hearing the water in the distance as it lulled you to sleep. The miles between you during race weekends had always been numerous, but the distance wasn't—not until now, at least. 
He slammed his phone on the nightstand and took yet another sleeping pill. 
It was going to be a horrible week. 
And, unfortunately, the morning wasn’t much better. Another oh so friendly interaction with his teammate. 
“Hey, Oscar, wait up,” the Brit called, jogging to catch Oscar as they both entered the paddock. Oscar slowed his pace but didn’t stop, hopeful that this would be a clear sign that he wasn’t here for conversation.
When he did catch up, Oscar just gave Lando a small nod as a greeting. 
“Hey, I, uh, heard about you and Lily. I’m so sorry, mate.”
Oscar turned, making a confused and irritated face. “Who told you?”
“YN. Well, I asked her if you were okay.”
The Aussie made a small grumbling noise. 
“I was just worried, you know. You just seemed like you were going through some stuff. You know I’m always here if you need me, right?”
“I need to beat you,” Oscar said, but his words had no bite to them. There was no snappy anger anymore, just exhaustion. 
“Of course,” Lando said, smiling, as if he thought his teammate’s championship ambitions were nothing more than comic relief. “But for real, man, I’m sorry and I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” Oscar said, though he didn’t really mean it. He just wanted to be alone.
In Monaco, you were breaking your first cardinal rule of a breakup (even a friendship breakup) and turning on your TV to watch Oscar drive. 
You had managed to go without watching the free practices and even quali, but you couldn’t bring yourself to not watch the Grand Prix. 
And it was good that you tuned in, because he won. 
You nearly threw your phone across the room when he finally passed the checkered flag. You had been practically holding your breath since he secured the lead in a masterfully timed pit stop mid race, beating out Max Verstappen to bring home his second win of the season. 
So, maybe he wouldn’t hate Miami as much anymore. 
Your phone—secured now on your nightstand to prevent any race-related breakage—loomed in the distance as you debated sending him a congrats text. It wasn’t like you all had gone through a true breakup; you weren’t even together. But you knew you couldn’t let yourself end up in his bed again. You knew that he was a broken man, and you couldn’t fix him. 
So your friendship had come to occupy this odd liminal space in which neither of you knew exactly where you stood. At some point, this would have to be discussed, but clearly neither of you had learned your lesson on healthy communication. 
You wanted to tell your best friend that you were proud of him. Was that such a bad thing?
It wouldn’t be, if you could ignore that voice now echoing in your mind.
Since when are her feelings my problem?
You nearly gagged at the thought. Yeah, you weren’t texting him.
And back in Miami, Oscar anxiously awaited a text that would never come. 
“Oscar, mate, quit staring at your phone and let’s celebrate!” Lando teased, patting his teammate on the back. 
Oscar just sighed, opening his phone again to find no messages from you. 
“She’s not coming back,” Lando said. “So either you get drunk enough to call her, or you get drunk enough to find someone to replace her. Either way, you’re getting drunk tonight.”
“Really, Lando?” 
“She destroyed a five year relationship over some stupid shit, and you just won another grand prix. So yes, I think you should get fucked up with me tonight!”
“Don’t talk about Lily like that, mate. And besides, I’m not even waiting on her.”
Lando raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you waiting on?”
Oscar’s defenses were wearing down, even while sober. “You know who.”
“And you still want me to believe that you two aren’t hooking up?”
“It’s…complicated.” 
“Spill.”
Under normal circumstances, Oscar was never the type to discuss his personal life at work, much less with his rival for the championship. But as the plan of going out was abandoned in favor of a nice bottle of Cuban rum ordered to the room, Oscar found himself spilling his secrets like a teenage girl at a sleepover.
“And then I just…” he hiccuped, “I told her everything. And she didn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her, but it fucking hurt, you know? And we were just screaming at each other, she said we should go our separate ways. What am I supposed to say to that? And I still haven’t heard from her, but her and Lily are gonna be at Imola. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”
“Mate,” Lando said, slurring his words, “You fucked this up worse than I fucked up the championship last year.”
The two drivers laughed—otherwise, they’d have to cry at the peril poor Oscar had put himself in. 
But the time flew by, and soon enough Oscar found himself on a flight to Italy, which he secretly prayed would crash so that he could avoid this entire charade. 
Of course, on all your respective flights, the feeling was mutual; neither you, Oscar, nor Lily really wanted to be there. But duty called, and you were nothing if not professional. 
It was an odd place to be; on one hand, you loved this job. It was fun getting to explore the world with your best friend and get paid to take pictures and make silly videos. The electric atmosphere of the paddock was one that had always felt like home, like you belonged there.
On the other hand, every time you thought about seeing Oscar again, you wanted to puke. 
Thankfully, when you did inevitably see him again, your lunch did not resurface. You operated like a robot; no banter, no friendliness, just stark professionalism. 
And Oscar didn’t know what was worse; not having you there, or seeing you act like a stranger. 
The one silver lining, at least, was that Lily was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t handle those emotions too. 
So, again and again throughout the weekend, he repeated that manta to himself: Just focus on work. Just focus on work. 
He said it to himself one last time before he hopped in the car for qualifying. Just focus. 
But he just couldn't. From the seat of his car, the chaos of the pit lane and the gaggles of photographers were just blurs, unidentifiable blobs. I had always comforted him to think that one of those was you, watching him. Now it was haunting. 
And somewhere, buried away in the paddock, Lily was there. Oscar could imagine it; her polished and professional demeanor, almost perfect, as she schmoozed up to that one executive from the company that he swore always had a thing for her. 
He wanted to scream. Instead, he had to pull the car into the garage as the session was stopped due to an accident. It was raining heavily. Extra caution was advised, his engineer explained, but Oscar couldn’t focus. Not because of his thoughts—although, those certainly didn’t help—but rather because of what he saw across the garage.
You were chatting with Lando. 
“Hey, YN!” Lando greeted as he hopped out of his car, seeing you in the back of the garage taking photos. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too,” you said, though it wasn’t particularly true. 
“Looks like we’re going to be a while,” he said looking over his shoulder at the storm brewing in the distance, “want to walk the paddock with me and get some candids?” 
“Sure,” you agreed, though the request confused you. 
The two of you left the garage and Oscar felt like punching the wall. 
At first you walked in silence, your only emitted sound being the soft click of your camera. It was kind of pointless, though, since you were supposed to be getting shots of Oscar. You knew this. Lando knew this too.
“Can I ask you something, Lando?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there any reason that you’ve been pretty…friendly lately?” you asked, controlling your tone so it came off as genuinely curious rather than suspicious.
“Honestly,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck with nervousness, “I felt really bad about everything that happened on the trip. I was afraid I might’ve scared you off.”
Well, that didn’t make much sense. Lando was the one who had been avoiding you since the trip. But, after dealing with Oscar, you had simply accepted that men in general made no sense. 
“You didn’t,” you said. “And, I mean, the only reason we ended up like that is because Lily was trying to get rid of me. But, you see how that worked out.” 
“Really? She didn’t have the balls to tell you to leave her man alone?”
“Not until after you left,” you said, exhaling in exhaustion.
“Damn,” he said, looking away from you. You snapped a few photos of his candid side profile, admiring how the light hit his curls just right. “You know, the only reason I ran off in the club that night like that was because I didn’t want to get involved in all that? I mean, I wasn’t about to steal Oscar’s side chick.” He laughed.  “But from what I hear, things have changed?”
You laughed. “Oscar’s side chick?”
Lando raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t sleeping together?”
“Why do you want to know?” you laughed. Was Lando…flirting with you? No. He couldn’t be. He was Lando Norris, the most notorious playboy of the 2025 grid. 
“Aw, c’mon. I want to know the drama!” he teased, flashing his boyish smile. 
“Well, what if I want to know your drama?” you teased back, taking the opportunity to snap a few photos of him as you continued walking. 
“Psh, I’ve got no drama. Just keeping to myself, trying to win.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You’re avoiding the question, YN,” he said, smirking. Holy shit, he was flirting with you. But did you really mind? It felt nice to have that playful banter, to see a man who wanted that back and forth more than he just wanted your body. What was wrong with having a little fun?
You sighed and told him the most technical version of the truth. “Oscar never cheated. But you really thought I was sleeping with Oscar and you didn’t say anything to Lily?”
“Wasn’t my business. Besides, I thought it was pretty obvious.” His comment left a bit of a sour taste in your mouth, especially knowing the fears that Lily had confessed to you so long ago.
“No, I wouldn’t do that to Lily,” you said, and it was true. After all, you were both women. 
“And what about Oscar?”
You rolled your eyes. Having a nice conversation with Lando helped you remember how not nice your time with Oscar had been recently. “Oh, fuck him,” you said weakly. 
“Well, did you?”
You paused, unsure of whether or not to confess. “I already told you that he didn’t cheat. Is what, or who, I do in my spare time really any of your business?” you playfully teased.
His lips curled upwards. “I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
The double entendre wasn't missed on you. You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the crowds to ensure that no one was paying too close attention. “You don’t have to worry about me and Oscar. But you know I run his social media, right? So I see all the gossip pages, all the shit you get yourself into. It’s a bold claim to say you’ve got no drama.”
“Oh, darling, they don’t even know the half of it,” he smirked. You all had turned around by now, walking back in the direction of the paddock. The crows were thinner now. 
He continued, “But what about you, huh? You’re all bored with Oscar and now you want some real fun?” He let out a small laugh. “No, you’re not like that. Too much of a good girl.”
“You think I’m too good? I’m here flirting with my best friend’s rival for the championship.”
“Are we flirting, is that was this is?” he asked, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “I thought we were just having a pleasant conversation, catching up on the gossip.” Unbeknownst to you, Lando had gotten all the gossip from Oscar after their drunken celebration in Miami. But he wanted to see exactly how much you’d reveal to him. 
“Well, sure then. I’m sure you get tired of race talk all day, anyway.”
“You say that like you think race talk is boring. But I’ve seen you at enough races to know better. Don’t play coy, you love it, don’t you? You know more about racing than most of the drivers’ girlfriends.” 
It kind of unnerved you, the way Lando knew exactly how to push your buttons. The subtle you’re not like the other girls implication; both you knew it wasn’t a compliment, but rather a statement meant to rile you up and see how you’d react. And it worked.
Your voice lowered, steady yet quieter. “It’s a bit sexist to assume that women don’t know anything about racing. And knowing more about racing doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”
“I never said that, love.”
“Hmm, but you thought it.” 
“Are you in my head now?” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So tell me about all the race talk between you and Oscar.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?” you chuckled.
“D’you want it to be?” he smirked. “No, no, really. Tell me what groundbreaking F1 opinions are inside that pretty little head of yours.” Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you. 
“I’ve got nothing groundbreaking,” you said as your smile loosened, contemplating how you wanted to arrange your words. “I think Oscar has a good shot at winning the WDC this year, if he can get out of his own head.”
“And what about me?”
“I think you’ll give him a run for his money. But you care too much about what random people on the internet think,” you said, ending the statement with that on the nose jest.
“You’re probably right,” he smiled. “God, you sounded like my PR manager for a sec there.”
“Not exactly dirty talk, is it?” you joked.
You arrived back at the McLaren garage. Lando walked in first, seeing that Oscar’s back was to you, and positioned himself so that when Oscar looked around, he’d see him instead of you. You were none the wiser. 
He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You still haven’t answered my question. How was he?” Lando’s face was plastered with a mischievous grin. 
You playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t ask me that!” you cooed, though you didn’t mind his closeness, the warmth of his breath on your ear. 
Oscar didn’t like it, though. And when he turned around and saw your back to him, Lando leaned down next to you, and smirking, he wanted to run him over with his car. 
Lando looked up for only a split second, but his eyes met Oscar’s, as if to acknowledge what he was doing. Or, as if to say, yes, I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me. 
Oscar couldn’t handle the audacity of watching Lando flirt with you in front of his own eyes. Thankfully, you were tapped on the shoulder by none other than the new guy, who had broken his extremely expensive camera, and you were called away to help him figure it out. 
Oscar crossed the garage to face Lando, never breaking his line of sight. 
“Oh hey, mate, what’s up?” Lando asked, innocently.
“Why are you talking to YN?”
“Oh, she wanted to take some photos—”
“Don’t talk to YN,” Oscar said, his voice plain but stern. 
“Mate, we were just having a chat. It wasn’t like that. Don’t be so paranoid.”
“I’m serious,” Oscar reiterated. “Don’t cross that line, Lando.”
“Okay, my bad,” Lando said, nervously laughing and carelessly throwing his hands in the air. Oscar still wouldn’t shift his gaze, even as both drivers were called to get back in their cars to resume the qualifying session. 
There was something up about Lando, he could tell. But it’d have to wait. Now, he had a pole to get. 
Well, he tried, but only managed to come in fourth. Lando got pole. Of fucking course. 
Another sleepless night passed with no messages from you. 
And the next morning, there you were as usual, staring at him only through the eye of your camera lens. 
But then, across the garage, you had no problem chatting it up with Lando. He threw you a glimpse of his award winning smirk and Oscar felt violent. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. 
You were doing it to spite him, that was obvious. You’d never be interested in a guy like Lando; too much of a playboy. And honestly, Oscar knew deep down that he deserved this. But it still made him sick to his stomach. 
The feeling only dissipated when it was replaced by that primitive need within him to win. The lights before him went out and reason gave way to instinct. 
Lando bottled the pole, losing the lead to Max after the first corner. Oscar fell back one place, narrowly avoiding a collision between Charles and Lewis, before overtaking them as they struggled to reorient their cars. 
So it was just him, Max, and Lando. He could do this. 
His body moved automatically. He could hear the roar of the engines, the chattering of the radio, and the screaming of the fans in the distance, but in his mind all was quiet. Laps blurred as he sped along the track, pushing inch by inch closer to overtaking Max. 
Eventually he did, getting DRS and flying past the Redbull driver, pushing hard to get a good lead over him. 
All that was left now was his own teammate. 
“Okay Oscar, you’ve got enough space between you and Verstappen,” his race engineer said.
“I want to overtake.”
“A 1-2 is our goal right now—”
“Then he can be 2nd. I want to win.”
Silence befell the radio channel for a moment. 
His engineer returned. “Okay. Papaya rules.”
Papaya rules. The phrase that haunted his dreams. 
There was really no need to use the coded language anymore. The world knew what it meant—race, but keep it clean. Put the team above yourself. Don’t do anything reckless. 
But Oscar was sick of being the good teammate, the one who always let Lando win for the sake of the team. He was tired of being gifted wins. Team orders were bullshit. This wasn’t about McLaren anymore. This was about his pride. This was everything. 
So he pushed harder than he should have. He was wearing his tires out, he knew, but Lando just coasted along, as if nothing was amiss. As if his teammate wasn’t out for blood and gaining on him with every lap. 
Lando glanced in his mirrors and saw Oscar behind him. 
“Oscar’s getting close,” he said to his engineer. 
“We told him papaya rules. Remember, our goal here is a 1-2.”
“He’s gonna wear out his tires.”
“Let’s just focus on keeping P1.”
But Lando knew it wasn’t that simple. This was no longer impersonal racing, just the best of the best competing against each other because it was in their nature to do so. 
No, this was personal now. 
Lando rounded the corner, feeling Oscar hot on his heels, but managed to defend his position. He knew that with DRS enabled at the next stretch, he wouldn’t be able to hold him off. 
But in front of him, he was already close to lapping the backmarkers of the grid.
Oscar could see them in the distance; the familiar teal of Lance Stroll’s Aston Martin, and an even more familiar fumble as he drove erratically due to some mechanical issue with the car. 
Lando slowed down, but Oscar couldn’t react. He swerved, hitting the barrier. 
Back in the garage, the breath left your lungs. 
You couldn’t resist the temptation of watching. You’d slid the headset on after Oscar had driven off, and you’d planned to leave before he got back to the garage and discovered that you’d ever been there. No harm, no foul. The allure of the purring engines and adrenaline-fueled racing was just too much to resist.
But now, hearing the violent scrape of carbon fiber against metal as Oscar’s car screeched along the barriers, your heart sunk into your chest. 
“Are you alright, Oscar?” you heard his race engineer ask, his voice filling your ears. 
But the silence afterwards was deafening. 
“Oscar, can you hear us? Are you alright?” 
All that came through was a metallic gargle of noise, a sign that the radio had been damaged in the impact. There was no way to know if Oscar was hurt or not.
A hush fell on the track as the safety car was brought out. Lando had effectively secured his win, with so few laps remaining. 
Your eyes were glued to the screen, praying to whatever God would listen that Oscar would be okay. You watched as the marshalls rushed to the site of the car, huddling around the lump of broken parts that stood still on the sidelines. 
Because of the force of the crash, the medical car had been deployed as well. You were frozen in place.
You had never been much of a believer in God, but all you could do now was beg.
Please, God. Please let him be okay. If he’s okay I can forgive everything he’s ever done. If he’s okay I will never let him out of my life ever again. Please, God, please let him be safe. 
You chanted the prayer over and over again to yourself as the seconds ticked by like hours. 
Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you saw the marshalls carrying along an orange-clad form into the medical car. 
You didn’t even think. You just reacted, taking off your headset and booking it towards the medical tent. 
You weren’t the only one there, though. The tent was already swarmed with media, all craning their necks to see Oscar. You pushed your way through to the front, only to be stopped by security, since you had your media pass instead of your usual VIP pass as one of Oscar’s friends. 
You panicked—to the eyes of security, you were just another reporter who was rudely trying to cut through the crowd to get to the injured driver.
“Please let me by,” you pleaded. “I know Oscar—”
“You can wait at the media tent.”
“C’mon—”
“Ma’am, we need you to leave.” You groaned, and you were about to leave before you heard the voice of your savior from out of nowhere. 
“Hey!” he called. You turned your head to see who it was—the familiar, friendly face of Zak Brown. 
He was on the other side of the barrier, but Oscar was still nowhere to be found. 
“Oh, YN, am I glad to see you!” He turned to the security officer. “Let her in.”
“Sir, media personnel are not authorized—”
“She’s VIP, not media.”
“Sir—”
“Do you know who I am?” he said, an unusual sternness in his tone. The security officer glanced down at his pass and silently let you through. 
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Zak said, his boyish grin returning as he patted you on the back and led you along to the private area where they’d be bringing Oscar any second now. 
You sighed as he pulled the medical curtain closed. 
“Boy, was that a nasty crash,” he said.
“Is he okay?”
“Well, he’s alive. That’s as far as I know.”
Your heart sank again. But as if on cue, you heard the rumble of camera shutters and reporters chattering outside the tent as the marshals escorted Oscar into the tent. When he came up, the room was flooded with medical personnel, pushing you and Zak back to the edge of the curtained-off room. 
A nurse rushed in. “Who’s his emergency contact?” she asked Zak.
“Her,” he said, gesturing to you. You were confused. Since when had Oscar made you his emergency contact? 
“Stay here,” the nurse instructed, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move an inch. You resumed your prayers as Zak blabbered on and on, mainly to himself. One thing that you’d learned very quickly about Zak Brown once Oscar had gotten to McLaren is that he really liked to yap. 
As the doctors and nurses filtered in and out of the room, you caught a brief glimpse of Oscar in the hospital bed, his eyes rolled back into his head, slumped over into his shoulder. 
You wanted to wail. 
But it was only a few minutes before everyone began to filter out of the room, creating enough space for you to finally see your friend. And when you did lay eyes on him, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you feared. 
His eyes were closed; an attempt to rest, rather than a state of unconsciousness. 
A nurse at his bedside turned to you. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. We’re going to sedate him and transport him to a hospital, but he’s not gravely injured. He just needs some tests done that we can’t do here.”
You nodded along, not once taking your eyes off Oscar. 
“And, yes, you are his emergency contact, so we’ll need you to come with us. He’s authorized you to make decisions in the event that he's unable to. But that is unlikely, of course.”
“Is he…?” you asked, gesturing towards him. 
“He’s still a little shaken up. The best thing right now is to get him into a calmer environment.”
You nodded. “I’ll make sure that new guy doesn’t lose all your stuff,” Zak quipped, and you threw a smile out towards him. “I’ll meet you all there when we’ve wrapped up here.”
Ah yes, the grand prix was likely still going on outside, and Lando would have to climb the podium and take his P1 trophy home. 
But as you sat in a hospital room in Italy next to your best friend, the podium was the last thing on your mind. 
Oscar was still completely out of it. The doctors had come and gone, confirming that all of his tests had come back normal. No broken bones, no concussion, nothing major. Just a shit ton of bruises and a shock to the system that left him too exhausted to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time.
Outside, the sun was setting, but you couldn’t sit still. You held Oscar’s limp hand in your own, tracing patterns into the cold skin. You hadn’t held his hand since you were kids—no, Oscar had held your hands above your head as he pinned you to the wall only weeks ago. 
You flung the memory away. Now wasn’t the time. Besides, you promise you’d forgive all that. 
Either way, you couldn’t focus on that now. Oscar’s eyelashes were fluttering open, his eyes squinting at the fluorescent light above him. 
“Osc!” you said, truthfully too energetic for the occasion. You dropped his hand, got up, and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the swiftly fading daylight from outside the window to illuminate the room. 
He groaned as you sat back down, but still mumbled a small thanks. 
“Where am I?” he asked, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes.
“A hospital in Imola.” 
“Shit,” he sighed. 
“Yeah. You had a pretty bad crash.”
“I remember that,” he said, his throat dry and cracked. He took a sip of water. “Lando brake checked me.”
“Is that what happened? I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah. Fucker,” he cursed, his voice dripping with contempt. You didn’t know what to say. 
“How are you feeling?” you finally said, tired of the lingering tension. 
“Awful. Everything hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, reaching for his call button to request painkillers. “I’ve missed you.”
It was bold, doing this when he knew you couldn’t exactly be cruel to him. So, instead, you were honest. 
“I’ve missed you too. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said, reaching forward to smooth his hair away from his sweat-stained forehead. Your touch felt better than any painkiller. “We were really scared.”
“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” he joked as the nurse arrived and wordlessly administered his meds. He let out a sigh as he felt the painkillers enter his system. “I run on pure spite. A little wall isn’t gonna take me out.”
You gave him a small smile. “You didn’t say anything after the crash,” you said, your voice just a quivering whisper, giving away the true depths of your fear.
“I had the wind knocked out of me. And then, everything just went black, I was fading in and out.”
“I was praying you’d be okay. It was so scary.”
“Hey, I’m okay. A little busted up, but I wasn't exactly a looker anyway, huh?” he joked, a feeble attempt to make you laugh. You sniffled and smiled.
He continued, “Can I use my near-death experience as an excuse for us to make up?”
Your smile dropped and you bit your lip.  “Osc…”
“I just want my friend back,” he said, cutting you off. “Look, I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. And I think, after all the shit I did, you wouldn’t want me to anyway. But I miss my friend.”
“I miss my friend, too.” 
Your heart to heart was interrupted by a knock at the door. The same nurse from before poked her head in. “Excuse me?” she asked in an Italian accent, and you looked up. “There is a visitor asking to be let in. She said her name is Lily?”
You couldn’t help the face you made. What on God’s green Earth was Lily doing in Imola?
“Um, yeah, let her in,” Oscar said. He didn’t react, though you scooted away and sat at the edge of your seat, ready to leave at any second. “Stay,” he whispered to you, and you did. 
A few moments later, you saw her walk in, and the atmosphere was thick. 
“Hi Oscar,” she exhaled, grateful to see him okay. He greeted her back, but she didn’t even look at you. You got up to give them a moment, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, and the look in his eyes was impossible to refuse. You tentatively sat back down. 
“How are you feeling?” Lily asked, and the two exchanged pleasant conversation back and forth. You wanted nothing more than to jump out of the window that now showed the sunset over the trees. Normal visiting hours would be ending soon. 
“Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she said, getting up to leave. “I’m glad you’re doing well. You too, YN,” she added on the end, but you didn’t believe it. You gave her a flat but polite smile. 
“Actually, YN, could we have a word?” she asked, cocking her head in the direction of the hallway. 
The look on Oscar’s face told you that this was a horrible idea. But one of you was confined to a hospital bed, and the other wasn’t. You ignored him and followed Lily into the deserted hallway.
She turned to you, voice full of venom. “How long have you been sleeping with Oscar?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” she said, plain as day. 
“I’ve told you before, Oscar never cheated on you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
You turned your head in confusion. “What are you getting at?”
Lily angrily sighed. “You think that you can just waltz around the paddock talking shit about me with Lando, and that I’m not going to hear about it?”
Had Lily been at the paddock? Or even worse: had she somehow heard you?
“Well, if you actually heard my conversation with Lando, you’ll know that I stood up for you.”
“I thought you were a girl’s girl,” she said, deflecting from your defense.
“I am.”
“Then why were you in bed with my boyfriend 4 days after we broke up?”
“Your ex boyfriend,” you said, meeting her level of venom. “You left him.”
“I just thought, after all that talk, you’d have the decency not to prove me right.”
“Lily, I was honest with you. If you’re mad at Oscar, don’t take it out on me. He’s the one who suggested it. I told him it was a bad idea.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“And I felt horrible about it. So I stopped.” Your voice was sharp. “Who told you any of this?”
“It doesn't matter. I hope you’re happy.”
“I hope you are, too. Genuinely.” You lacked the words to say what you really wanted to. He treats both of us like shit. He used us. I am not your enemy. She wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She wordlessly walked away, scoffing and mumbling to herself. 
You didn’t say anything either as you walked back into the hospital room and slumped in the chair.
“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” Oscar said.
“Nope.”
“Well, we were in the middle of something…”
Oh, right. The conversation where Oscar was trying to get back in your pants. 
“I’m not going to fuck you, Oscar.” 
“I’m not asking you to.”
“We can let anything lead to that. Not again.”
“I understand,” he said. “I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.”
“Could we even do that?” you asked. It felt like a line had been crossed, moving your friendship in a way that couldn’t be undone. 
“I promise. And I know my word doesn’t mean much, but really, I promise. Never again.”
Haven't you promised that you’d forgive him?
“Okay,” you said, “Okay.”
Oscar smiled at you, showing off his bunny teeth. You still loved him. You couldn’t help it. But true to form, you could never stay away.
“Oh, and by the way, congrats on Miami.”
You fell asleep in the chair, having refused to leave Oscar’s side. He’d be discharged in the morning to make his flight back to Monaco, though it was questionable whether or not he’d be able to race in the iconic Grand Prix. 
True to his word, though, Oscar got one final set of visitors in the dead of night.
The first was Zak Brown. 
“Oscar!” Zak yelled, before Oscar shushed and pointed to your sleeping form. You stirred but didn’t fully wake, and Zak placed his hand over his mouth and raised his eyebrows as Oscar let out a quiet laugh.
“Hey Zak,” he said, his voice hushed.
“Glad to see you’re doing better.”
“Yeah, I made it,” he mused. “Hey, what did the FIA say?” Oscar’s phone had died since you had fallen asleep, and his charger had been left at the track.
Thankfully, Zak had brought his (and your) belongings, and he placed the bag at the foot of the hospital bed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the penalty, from the crash?”
“No one got a penalty.”
“But, Lando brake checked me.”
“Lando barely avoided a crash with Stroll.”
“I know, but he didn’t swerve, he slowed down. He had room to swerve, I didn’t. How did no one get a penalty?”
“That's just racing.”
“He intentionally slowed down to stop me!”
“Oscar, I highly doubt that that’s what happened. It was a crowded track, and you all had to react in a split second. These things happen, you know this.” 
Oscar wasn’t at all pleased with this answer, and it was worsened by the appearance of his second visitor: Lando himself.
“Ah, there’s our grand prix winner!” Zak said, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 
Lando smiled, and Oscar wanted to throw up. 
“Had to bring it home for the team,” he said, smiling at Zak. “You doing alright, mate?” he asked. 
Oscar was already tired of people asking him how he was feeling. “I’m fine,” he said.
“Lando gave Stroll an earful after the race.”
“Oh yeah, probably getting fined for that one…”
“Why? I didn’t crash because of Stroll. You brake checked me.” The pain was making Oscar more irritable. He’d need another dose of meds soon. 
“No, Stroll was driving like an idiot out there, I had to slow down.”
“No, you had to move. You’re not stupid. You just didn’t want me to overtake, didn’t you?”
“Okay, boys, let’s save this for the track,” Zak interjected. Oscar just grumbled. “I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” he said to Lando, who nodded but stayed behind. 
The Brit glanced at you, still fast asleep in the chair by Oscar’s bedside. “D’you tire out your babysitter?” he smiled. 
But Oscar was relentless. “Don’t talk about her.”
“I thought you all weren’t on speaking terms?” 
“Lando, mind your business.”
“I don’t know what your problem is, mate.”
“You think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“I’m not up to anything. I’m just trying to be a good teammate. Jesus, Osc, they should check that you didn’t hit your head too hard, you’re so paranoid.”
Truthfully, Oscar was bluffing. He had a horrible feeling about his teammate, but no evidence to back it up. But his intuition was hardly ever wrong. 
“I ran into Lily after you left,” Lando said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were here.” His tone of voice was so gentle that Oscar began to wonder if maybe he was being too paranoid.
“Yeah, she came by earlier.” 
Lando’s eyes glanced back to your sleeping form, and Oscar felt his anger rise again. He didn’t even want Lando to look in your direction, let alone be speaking to you. 
“Your heart rate is up,” Lando said, gesturing to the monitor that now showed the physical effects of Oscar’s anger.
“Look, Lando,” Oscar said, shifting to sit up in bed. “Stop acting like we’re friends. Stop talking to YN, stop trying to play this buddy-buddy game. We’re here to beat each other.”
“I was just trying to be kind, but I guess if you really don’t want to be friends, I can’t make you.”
“I’m serious. Leave YN alone. Don’t even go there.”
“She’s an adult.”
“And she’s mine.”
Lando laughed. “Seriously? That’s not exactly what she told me.”
The monitor beeped again as Oscar’s heart rate continued to rise. “I don’t care what she told you.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” 
“Try it. See what happens.”
A nurse gently knocked on the door, and Oscar was grateful for the distraction and relief of pain meds. 
“Well,” Lando said, leaning on the door, “I guess I’ll see you all in Monaco.”
361 notes · View notes
missmimii · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
୨ৎ-𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐂 -𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
୨ৎ - 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Chris leaves the reader craving more than the usual nods of approval, the girl begins to wonder—how far is she willing to go to hear the words she so desperately needs?
୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, Voyeur!Chris/Dom!Chris, praising, pet names, detailed sexual encounter, light degradation, face grabbing, fingering, dom + sub dynamics (and probably more but I’m tired.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Chris knew Y/n.
The boy had liked watching her more than he’d ever care to admit. Almost as if she were his prey. Through their 8 gruelling years of friendship, Chris had chalked the girl down into one word. Perfect. She didn’t get angry, maybe frustrated, but never angry. He knew the way she blew her hair away from her nose when she was drawing, the way her hands wrung together when she was nervous-he even knew her favourite brand of lingerie to buy from. She was such a sweet little thing, timid and loving toward the boy since the day they’d met in middle school.
Chris had always been good at reading people, and with her, it hadn’t taken him long to figure out the girl’s little secret. It was in the way the girls’s eyes lit up whenever he tossed her a casual “Good job,” or how her cheeks flushed when he complimented her outfit, even if it was something simple. She tried to hide it—laughing off his words like they meant nothing—but the soft smile she couldn’t quite suppress always gave her away. It was subtle at first, but once he noticed, he couldn’t stop. And honestly? Watching her glow under his praise was something he didn’t mind one bit.
And use it to his advantage occasionally.
“Chris,” she sobbed out softly, tears gathering along her water-line as she started at him with a pitiful expression. The boy almost cooed at the sorrowful sight of the girl, sprawled out weakly, a hand between her thighs as she gently swirled her fingers around her fluttering hole.
She watched as Chris’s hooded eyes roamed her face along with the exceptional fleeting gaze to her glistening cunt, a hand running down his clenched jaw as he leaned back in the chair he used as a throne. If it weren’t for his raging, visible hard on, the girl would’ve almost thought he was bored.
His expression lacked any emotion, and she couldn’t decipher whether or not her body loved it-or hated it. “Please . . Please-” her head fell back onto his pillows, the tears that pleaded to fall finally descending down her flushed cheeks. She shakily ran the tips of her fingers down her soaked slit, pressing down gently-clueless on what to do.
The worst part was she could feel his eyes on her. Not only was she shy, but he was watching her suffer, and refused to help. “Keep going.” She sniffed at his words, almost wanting to shake her head as her hand shook. It didn’t feel like him. “You don’t want me to come the fuck over there.” He threatened. I kindaaa do, she thought to herself.
Holding the snarky remark, she slowly began to ease her middle finger inside of her pulsing heat, moaning gently. “Mm . . . That’s a good girl.” Fuck. A broken whine tore from her throat, making Chris chuckle as she worked her finger faster. It hurts so good, Chris thought to himself.
As much as he’d like to stalk over there and get on top of her -give it to her like no other, he felt an odd sense of pleasure in seeing her writhe, struggle. Chris’s throat bobbed as he palmed over his strained jeans, grunting under his breath as his eyes fluttered. God, he needed to fuck her.
Lost in her own pleasure, she didn’t even pick up on the sound of his steps getting closer to her sprawled out body, or the warmth of his larger stature beginning to melt atop hers. Chris chuckled softly to himself, seeing her parted lips, drool slipping from her beautiful mouth as she panted.
Her eyes shot open as a palm pressed over her mouth, gasp eliciting her lips as she met eyes with the brown haired boy. “Shhhhh . . .” Strands of his slightly-yet perfectly outgrown hair fell above his eyebrows. A dark look, sheer over his pupils as he deepened his gaze into her, boring into her shy ones with intensity.
“Look at me,” he demanded gently as her gaze faltered from his nervously. “Be a good girl and look at me, hm?” Chris hummed as her pupils dilated, automatically attached to his as the soft praise left his bitten lips. “Thasss’ a good baby,” she blinked slowly at his words her smaller hand coming up to grip onto his wrist for security. “Yeah, just like that.” Her eyes widened as she felt his other hand mold atop hers, guiding two of her fingers into her pussy slowly. “Hold on f’me.” Fuck.
Chris smirked sadistically, watching her eyes flutter and roll back, her teeth biting into his palm. “How’s that?” He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, hooded eyes glued to hers as his thumb rolled over her clit. “Better?” Chris mocked gently, leaning down and placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Hm?” She attempted to get her words out, but they ended up a jumbled mess of incoherent sentences.
“Just shut up.”
A moan left her muffled lips, making Chris scoff. “You like that?” He ran his thumb across his cheek, before it met the supple skin of her bottom lip. Her chest heaved, no response leaving her mouth as he gazed into his eyes heavily.
Chris tilted his head, cooing ever so softly, as he felt the walls of her tight cunt squeezing around his long fingers. “Oh, baby.” A broken whine came from her lips, more tears falling as he lowered his lips to her ear. Chris’s jaw brushed against her’s, the curve of his perfect nose running down the angle of her pulse. “I almost would’ve felt bad if this wasn’t so pathetic.” He uttered gently, nipping at her neck.
Lost in a haze of pleasure, she barely even noticed how Chris’s fingers slowly released from her sopping heat. Right before she came. “Wait-wait-wait-please,” Her eyes batted open, hand fumbling to grab his wrist. Chris tutted softly, grabbing the hand and holding it above her head. “Ah, ah.” Chris practically pried her hands off of him. “I helped, now it’s your turn.”
He watched as a perplexed expression crossed her features. My turn? He was helping me, she thought. “Don’t argue.” He interjected before she could even utter a word. Chris stalked back to his seat, adjusting himself as he began to undo his belt. “What’re you waiting for, hm?” Chris tilted his head, jaw ticking with a smirk as he toyed with the buckle.
“Be a good girl and touch yourself.”
Tumblr media
🏷️-୨ৎ- @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturniolosarethebest @stonermattsgf @st7rnioioss @endereies @pkfferoo @mqttittude @mattsbrowser @conspiracy-ash @sturnshood
353 notes · View notes
minswriting · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Colds and Cuddles - Aaron Hotchner x Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
About: You get a cold while your boyfriend is out on a case. And when he gets back, he takes care of you.
Warnings: none! this is purely self indulgent though as i’m suffering from a cold and want to be babied by aaron hotchner. this is pure fluff. i’m not the greatest at writing comfort/fluff (as i need to practice it more lol) so i’d love to hear your guys’ feedback!!
Word Count: 1k
Tumblr media
When Aaron had left for work two days prior, he could tell something was off with you. You seemed more lethargic than usual and ran down. But you had pushed through it, likely not experiencing symptoms at that point. When you had texted him the next day exclaiming you didn’t feel well, Aaron wasn’t surprised. He knew when someone was coming down with a cold. Being a father, Jack was a living petri dish and Aaron was accustomed to the colds and other sickness that came with that fact.
He came home from the case with his go bag in hand and a bag from the store. He had stopped at the pharmacy before coming home, ensuring that you had medicine as well as a few other things. As Aaron walked through the apartment door, he saw you on the couch, bundled in a blanket with the TV on as you watched some comedy show.
“Honey, I’m home,” Aaron exclaimed as he hung up his jacket.
“Yay,” came your hoarse and exhausted voice as you stood up from the couch. You were about to walk over to Aaron to greet him but he was already over to you before you could.
Aaron looked at you, taking in your appearance. Your hair was disheveled, your eyes were sunken with bags underneath them. Your nose was red from irritation. Aaron couldn’t help but feel for you. Colds really sucked. He tucked a strand of hair out of your face before checking your temperature with his wrist. You were certainly heating up. “Have you taken anything?” He asked softly.
When you shook your head no, Aaron frowned. “I’ve been too tired to go look at what we have,” you croaked out. Your voice was so hoarse and nasally.
Aaron hummed in response, caressing your cheek lovingly. He then opened the bag he was holding in his other hand, taking out the things he bought. “Luckily enough,” he began, grabbing the items. “I bought some stuff on my way home.” He pulled out a bottle of acetaminophen and something to break up mucus. “Reid told me what is best with colds. Apparently, cold medicines are a fluke because they're not full doses of what you actually need.” Aaron’s voice was soft as he spoke, a quirk in his lip as he quoted his genius agent.
You couldn’t help the small but tired smile on your lips as Aaron spoke. He was known for being so stoic, so stuck up and authoritative when he was at work. But with you? He was a complete softy. And you adored it. “What else did you get?” You asked.
“Some cough drops, vicks vapor rub,” Aaron replied, pulling out the items and placing them on the coffee table. He reached into the bag for the last item, pulling out a package of your favorite snack. “Thought you may need something joyful if your throat allows you to swallow.”
You grinned, looking at Aaron. “Thank you,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You just got home from a case. You, too, should rest.”
Aaron shook his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I can’t rest without making sure you’re taken care of, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, kissing your forehead again. “Now sit down. Have you eaten today?” You obeyed, sitting down on the couch.
When you shook your head once more, Aaron sighed. He should’ve known that you hadn’t. If you were too tired to look for medicines, then you were likely too tired to make yourself food as well.
“I’ll make you something,” He said softly, looking down at you as he towered over you. He reached down to caress your cheek once more.
“You really don’t have to-“ You tried to tell him no. But Aaron was quick to interrupt you.
“Let me take care of you,” He said firmly. “You’re sick and I wasn’t here to help you. Let me help you now. I’ll rest once you’ve eaten and taken medicine.”
And who were you to say no?
So Aaron went to the kitchen and made you soup. Aaron didn’t cook often. Not because he didn’t know how to but simply because his job didn’t allow him the time to do so. But whenever he did, it was always delicious. After thirty minutes in the kitchen, Aaron came back out to the living room with a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup for you to eat. And you made sure to eat at least most of it.
Not much was spoken between the two of you as Aaron took care of you. He gave you the medicine, giving you a glass of water to take it. After that, he disappeared to the bedroom for a few minutes before coming out in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt, a vast difference from the thousand dollar suit he was wearing a bit ago.
Aaron took a seat on the couch next to you, putting an arm around your blanketed shoulders. “Do you need anything else?” He murmured, leaning his head on top of yours as he pulled you closer to him.
“Just you.” You replied softly, snuggling into Aaron’s side. Aaron smiled softly at you, putting a finger underneath your chin and kissing your lips softly. When he pulled away, you frowned. “I’m going to get you sick,” You said, furrowing your eyebrows.
“I don’t really care,” Aaron said, kissing your lips again. “Let’s get you to bed.” He said, pulling away to stand up. He reached out for your hand.
The two of you went to the bedroom, lying down on the bed. You got yourself comfortable, snuggling under the comforter. Aaron followed suit, getting under the comforter and wrapping his arms around you. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the room filled with the small sounds of your congested snores. The sound lulled Aaron to sleep, allowing him to finally rest.
And a few days later when you were feeling better, Aaron began to feel the coming of a cold and you were there to take care of him too.
200 notes · View notes
desire4ella · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐏.𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sugar Daddies! In-ho/Gi hun x Fem!Reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your sugar daddies want to show you a little surprise…
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.4k
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Breath Play!, Daddy kink, Spit play,Blowjob, They run a secret undercover business together, Reader wears a pink dress—so if u don’t like pink ignore the dress part
Tumblr media
You were truly living the life that others craved and died for,while others had to work 9/5 jobs to get a few change; you however just had to show your puppy eyes to ether one of your sugar daddies and get thousands.What a life.
Gi hun was the most protective of you, always making sure you had enough money to sustain your lavish lifestyle, you were his princess if not a queen in his eyes; he would do anything just to see your eyes light up like fireworks and your crazed smile adorn your face because you received a diamond necklace.It truly made his day.
In-ho on the other hand was a bit more stern when giving you your allowance. He always had a few insisting questions ready to lash out when your pretty self begged him for a couple grands, “ what do you need the money for ?” was always his first question, as much as you love him, you couldn’t hide the fact that he slightly annoyed you when it came down to situations like this, because quite frankly as harsh as it sounds he was just your sugar daddy and not your actual father so he should start acting like it.
Anyways, tonight, something was definitely going to go down…you could feel it in air, especially when the normal stoic and calm In-ho responded with using “Xx” at the end of his sentence when messaging you, this was quite outlandish for his standards seeing as though his responses are always short and snappy; so this behaviour was really strange from him. Coming down 2 solutions as to why In-ho was so ‘happy’ you thought, it was ether he just made a huge deal with another incorporation and is feeling a lil babygirl today orrr someone drugged your man with laughing gas and now he’s suffering the consequences. Ether way it goes, you’re still gonna get that money regardless sooo….
Following orders from your sugar daddy’s ( which was to meet them 8pm sharp at their shared establishment), you got dolled up in your most luxurious outfit, which consisted of a sparkly pink dress,with each diamond etched into the fabric; some cute heals that gracefully adorned your feet and last but not least, a mini purse that shimmered like stars in the night sky. Hearing the sound of your designated chauffeur that your men ordered you, you got up from your vanity and headed out your bedroom.
𝟒𝟎 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑…
As I stepped into the lavish penthouse suite, my heart raced with anticipation. Tonight was going to be unforgettable, thanks to the two powerful men who had taken me under their wing - In-ho, the ruthless entrepreneur, and Gi-hun, his cunning right-hand man. It’s quite funny because you knew the other side to their jobs ( In-ho the leader of squid game and Gi-hun who surrendered and became In-ho’s right hand man) but still tried everything in their power to distract you from it.
They had promised me a night to remember, and I intended to hold them to that vow. In-ho, resplendent in a tailored black suit, greeted me with a firm kiss on the cheek. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to devour me whole. “My dear, you look exquisite tonight”, he purred, his voice low and seductive. “Shall we begin our little game?”
As I nodded eagerly, Gi-hun emerged from the shadows, his chiseled features illuminated by the soft glow of candles. He wore a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. A sly smile graced his plump lips as he approached, his eyes roving over my body with undisguised hunger. “We've prepared something special for you”, Gi-hun said, leading me to a plush velvet sofa. “Something to satisfy all your deepest desires, seeing as though you’ve been really good for us.”
Gi hun knelt before me, his hands deftly removing my shoes and stockings. His fingers traced the sensitive skin of my ankles, sending shivers up my spine. As he worked his way up, his touch grew bolder, teasing the hem of my skirt.Suddenly, In-ho appeared at my side, his large hand cupping my chin. “Open wide, baby girl”, he commanded, his thumb pressing against my lower lip. I parted my mouth obediently, and he slipped in a finger, probing deep. The sensation made me gasp, and In Gi hun seized the opportunity to slide his own colossal hand beneath my skirt, his palm grazing the damp heat of my core through my panties.
In-ho withdrew his finger, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. “Such a good little slut, aren't you?” he praised, his breath hot against my ear. “Now, let's see how well you can serve us both”.He guided me onto my knees, positioning me between Gi huns spread legs. The other man looked down at me with lust-glazed eyes, his cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Show Daddy what a good girl you are”.
Gi hun instructed, his voice husky with desire. I reached for the button of his trousers, popping it open with trembling fingers. As I pulled down the zipper, his thick erection sprang free, slapping against his stomach. Creamy pre-cum glistened and oozed down from the tip, slowly trickling down his shaft like a stream, I couldn't resist leaning in to lap it up with my tongue. “Mmm, so sweet”, I moaned around his shaft, swirling my tongue around the head. Gi hun letted out a guttural groan as his cock hitted the back of my throat. His hands tangled in my hair as he guided me further down. I took him deeper, relishing the musky flavor and the way his cock throbbed in my mouth.
Just as I found a rhythm, In-ho loomed over us, his brown eyes blazing with possessiveness. “Enough playing nice”, he growled, roughly yanking me off Gi hun’s dick.Before I could even let out a whine of protest, In-ho spun me around and shoved me face-first onto the plush sofa cushions. My already short dress rode up, exposing my ass to his hungry gaze. With a swift motion, he ripped away my panties, leaving me bare and vulnerable.
“You're finally ours now, no more going back and forth , you’re gonna stay with us sweetheart”, he declared, his voice dripping with dominance. “And we're going to use you however we please”In-ho shuffled out the way, allowing Gi hun to take his spot behind me, his hands gripped my hips as he positioned himself at my entrance. Without warning, he thrusted inside, filling me to the brim with his thick length. I cried out at the sudden intrusion, my walls clenching around him as he set a brutal pace. In-ho watched intently, his own arousal evident in the bulge straining against his pants. “Look at her take it like a pro” he bellowed in the shadows as his eyes greedily took in the sight of me being used like a fuck toy.
Gi hun grunted in agreement, his hips slamming against mine with increasing force. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, mingling with my moans and whimpers. In-ho stepped closer, his hand wrapping around my throat from behind. He squeezed gently, just enough to make my pulse race. “Breathe for us, pet”, he commanded, his fingers tightening slightly. I gasped, the pressure on my windpipe sending a thrill straight to my core. The feeling of my life all in the clutches of the man I so desperately craved, drived me crazy to no end.
In response, Gi hun picked up speed, his cock pistoning in and out of me with reckless abandon. The combined sensations pushed me to the brink, my climax building with each stroke. Being the cunning man In-ho is, sensed my impending release and tightened his grip, cutting off my air supply entirely.Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision as I teetered on the edge, my body tensing in preparation for the inevitable. Just when I thought I might pass out, In-ho released his hold on my throat, allowing me to inhale raggedly.
The sudden rush of oxygen entering my lungs sent me careening over the edge like crashing waves. My orgasm hit with the force of a tsunami, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I spasmed around Gi hun’s still-thrusting cock. He groaned, his own release imminent, and buried himself to the hilt one final time before finding his peak.Thick ropes of cum painted my insides as he filled me to overflowing, his hot seed triggering another aftershock of ecstasy. In-ho watched with a satisfied smirk, his own erection straining painfully against his pants.
“ Ready for part two, sweetheart?”
Tumblr media
𝐀/𝐍: Since this was the most requested, I delivered.
Reblogs and likes are highly appreciated <3
y’all pls follow me! my goal is to reach 1000 followers by the end of this yr!🎀
© - Ang3l 🎀🧁 my work is not to be published on any other platforms without my consent.
243 notes · View notes
keigh0e · 15 hours ago
Text
Touch ↬ Caleb
Tumblr media
Summary: You have been dating Caleb for quite a while now and you’ve had enough of him not touching you with his metal arm, so you give some not-so-gentle encouragement
Word Count: 5.9k
Triggers: smutty smut and the usual language you can always expect from me
Author Note: Meowdy .₊̣̇.ಇ/ᐠˬ ͜   ˬ ᐟ\∫.₊̣̇. Hope you’re all doing well! I finished the new stories for Love and Deepspace last night and now I’ve got Caleb brainrot, so you must suffer with me I’m afraid. This hasn’t been checked so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I’d appreciate any feedback!
You were an open book to Caleb and had been for years. 
Every twitch in your lips was a poem to him, every laugh his new favourite song, every tear a sonnet that pressed more weight on his soul than his evol ever could. 
He’d do anything for you. No, the man was determined, he would do everything for you. Everything, it seemed, but touch you with his metal arm. There would be accidental grazes here and there, but he made a vow to himself the first night he held you after returning, that he wouldn’t let his darkness touch you.
That arm was the physical manifestation of everything wrong with him. Even though it had been years and he’d learnt how to make use of the mechanism, learnt how to make it one of his greatest weapons in battle, that’s all it could ever be to him. He wouldn’t put a knife against your throat, so he wouldn’t dare even try to hold your hand with the very thing that had taken him away from you in the first place. Now you were back with him, back in his arms.
Now he was back with you, back in the light, he refused to let the shadows of his past consume anymore than they had.
Caleb thought he was pretty good at hiding things from you. He didn’t enjoy lying to you and made an avid effort to avoid creating any more after all the Farfleet drama that had originally reunited you, then torn you apart again. 
This sweet man didn’t think you carried his same brand of obsession. He didn’t know that you watched him just as intensely, noting every smile, every wince, every breath.
There was a reason you two were so perfect for each other, after all.
He had no idea that you’d caught on pretty quickly to the fact that he’d constantly do things so as to avoid touching you with his right arm. 
It hadn’t been obvious at first, not until you’d caught him reprogramming the faulty appendage one night. He’d been so raw that night. Maybe it was because he was so tired and recovering, but you’d seen it clear as day, the kind of look that didn’t belong on a man like Caleb, shame.
It had broken your heart all over again.
You’d done everything you could think of to wipe that look off his face that night, you’d made him hold you, you’d taken his hand, pressed a thousand kisses to each fingertip and you would have pressed a thousand more if he’d let you. But as per usual, Caleb had pushed his own feelings aside to concentrate on yours, he’d started making lightheaded jokes the second he saw tears appear in the corner of your eyes.
Though it didn't sit right with you, you let him change the subject, thinking maybe that was what he needed. But as time passed, you began to realise how big of a mistake you’d made by allowing him to shove the topic under the metaphorical rug. 
To an outsider they might not notice how he favours you walking on his left side so he can hold your hand with his. If you ever stand on the right side, the most touch you’ll get from him is his arm wrapped around your shoulder. You’d barely be able to feel the weight of him, like a layer was over you, keeping him from actually touching you with his metal arm.
He’d make you sit on his left side whenever you cuddled up on the couch, or ate together at a table. As though he was trying to keep you as far away as possible. 
He was sly about it, as was Caleb’s way. If you ever touched his right arm, he’d smoothly grab your hand with his left, bringing the hand to his lips and distracting you in all the ways he knew how because, as mentioned previously, the man knew every chapter in your book. Specifically the ‘how to arouse them with one look’ chapter. He’d clearly revised over that one many many times.
Last night was the final straw for you.
He’d been showering when you arrived at his home and you didn’t think twice about getting in the shower with him. 
To your shock, his arm was uncovered, not hidden under fake skin so no one but you and him knew about his little secret. He had a couple of scratches over his chest so you guessed he must have gotten hurt and had to fix his arm again.
You let out a titter, hating the idea of Caleb taking care of his own wounds, sitting alone in the dark like that last time. He’d never let you do that, so it was unfair he expected you to leave him like that as well.
Feeling your heart swell, you reached out, dragging your fingers down his arm. The usual cold steel was warm beneath the stream of water from the showerhead. You heard Caleb suck in a harsh breath, one that told you he was uncomfortable, but it just pushed you more.
You pressed a lip against his metal shoulder before nuzzling at it with your cheek. Perhaps it was too much, but you wanted him to see what you really thought of this limb Caleb seemed to be too scared to touch you with. You wanted him to know you did not share that same fear, therefore he shouldn’t either.
His head turned towards you and your eyes connected, you were stunned at the emotions in his violet gaze. The pain tore at your insides and the shame gouged out your insides. He was so beautiful, so whole, but in that moment, you saw how he truly felt. 
You saw the hatred. Not at you. He could never hate you. So you knew that was all aimed at himself, at the appendage you were currently hugging to your body, practically holding it hostage.
“Caleb,” you whispered, having to swallow as tidal waves of words tried to spill out. You wanted to call him stupid for thinking you could ever fear him, even just one small part of him. You wanted to tell him he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that he had always been the pinnacle of attractiveness for you, you’d come to this realisation as a hormonal teenager and that hadn’t changed now that you were both adults, that hadn’t changed now that one particular part of him had been replaced. 
You wanted to demand he touch you back, to grip your breasts in those cold steel hands, to pull on your nipples with his fingers, to strum at your clit and play your body anyway he wanted because you trusted him, all of him.
But before any of those words could come out, Caleb had blinked away his shame. He shook his head before gently tugging at his arm. You tightened your grip on instinct.
Reaching out, he pressed his other hand against your cheek, stroking your skin with his, ever-so-brave with that touch whilst his other arm layed like dead weight in your hold. “I was just finishing up, you finish your shower and I’ll go cook us some food.” 
He wasn’t even going to talk about it, was just going to move on, just acted like everything was normal.
With a press of his lips against your forehead, he pulled his arm out of your hold and exited the shower, leaving you all alone with your thoughts, with your sadness, with your rage.
Caleb always told you that were his, always made sure you knew that every part of your body belonged to him. Why was this not the same for you?
Why did he get to keep a certain part of himself away from you?
For your protection? No, that was ridiculous, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Caleb’s arms were the safest place in the world for you. 
As you finished your shower, scoffing every ten seconds at the nerve of your boyfriend, a plot began to load up inside your mind. 
You’d play the dutiful girlfriend tonight, the innocent friend who didn’t push too far, who laughed and smiled, who gave and didn’t demand too much. That was clearly what Caleb needed tonight and you wouldn’t push him more than he’d already been pushed by whatever fight he’d had.
But after that, you were through with this game.
Tumblr media
Morning light slipped through the cracks in the blind, illuminating your partner who was spread out like a starfish on the bed with you on top of him, his left arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest like you were his favourite stuffie.
You’d woken up a few seconds ago and had just watched him, your plan that you’d prepared for the night before helping get you wide awake as the excitement began to gurgle at the bottom of your stomach. 
After double checking that he was definitely asleep, you reached out towards your bedside table, sliding out the top drawer so you could reach in and retrieve the handcuffs you’d snuck in there last night when Caleb had been getting in his pajamas.
You kept your movements slow, not wanting to jar your partner awake. 
Reaching out, you wrapped one of the hand cuffs around the headboard. That was step one of your plan complete.
Looking down at Caleb, a sleeping beauty in his very own right, you couldn’t help but reach out and smooth a finger between his eyebrows. Even asleep, he seemed to be worried about something. 
Leaning you down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his lips.
As you sprinkled these little kisses, you felt something nudge against your thigh. Step two had been achieved and it was just as easy as you’d thought it would be. Even without Caleb fully awake, you could always count on one part of hiM being wide awake for you whenever you needed it.
“What are you up to, pip-squeak?” Your boyfriend grumbled, his voice all sorts of rough from sleep that your thighs automatically pressed together in reaction. You pressed another kiss to his lips, pleased when you felt him pressed back.
Reaching down with one hand, you began to rub at his dick through his boxers. Damn, you really hadn’t been wrong about him always being wide awake for you down there at least. He was already hard, the heat melting through the fabric into your hand. It was enough to make you dizzy. Luckily, you were a trainer hunter, so even the very tempting prize between his legs wouldn’t be able to pull you away from your plan of action.
Satisfaction rolled through you as he gasped at your unsuspecting touch, his hips canting slightly, trying to force more pressure from your hand onto him. 
“I just wanted to wish you a good morning,” you whispered as you moved your lips over to his ear, letting your tongue trace his jawline before tugging gently on his earlobe with your teeth. All the while you slipped your hands under his boxers, touching flesh to flesh, which had him letting out the dirtiest moan.
You almost moaned back yourself. It wasn’t often you had Caleb this out of control, this raw. It was a heady feeling you could get addicted to. 
And exactly what you’d been hoping for. He began to move his hips more, desperate to get a feel of your hand which you kept just above his cock, not making the move to grab it more firmly just yet. 
Whilst his focus was completely taken with trying to achieve that satisfaction only you could give him, you slid your other hand down his left arm, joining your hands together and then easily moving his arm above his head. He didn’t seem to care what you were doing, his only thoughts on getting you to touch him more firmly.
You did notice that his right arm, his metal arm, was still away from you. His fingers were curled up in the mattress, and you couldn’t tell if he was gripping it because of the feelings you were gifting him, or because he was doing all he could to keep from gripping you.
The sight of his metal arm stretched out away from you cemented the plan in your mind and kept you from getting distracted, even as the most delicious whine escaped him.
You pulled your hand out of his boxers and locked the handcuff around his arm as quickly as possible, your partner didn’t seem to even notice until the click echoed in the room, still bucking his hips slightly. 
His eyes finally opened, though they remained half-lidded, revealing violet rings wrapped around blown pupils. “What are you doing?” He asked, panting.
“I want to play a game, baby,” you explained in your most playful voice whilst positioning yourself better around him. “Won’t you play with me?”
You’d moved so you were laid on top of him, your hips above his crotch. The covers had been pushed back revealing his solid, naked, chest whilst you were still wearing your silk nightgown. You’d purposely worn his favourite, just to add another level of resistance. Plus, the shoulder straps might as well have been paid actors as they slipped down your arms on accident, allowing the tops of your breasts to be revealed.
He’d certainly noticed as his eyes went to your globes first, then they went down to your crotch which hovered just above his, the barest of space keeping you from settling down on his cock. Then, eventually, his eyes flicked up to glance at the handcuff you’d wrapped around his wrist. He gave a tug, as though to confirm that, yes, they really were handcuffs. Then after no time at all, his eyes returned to you, carrying with them a glare that had your playful nature purring even more. 
“What’s the game?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.
Caleb was always in control, so you weren’t surprised to see him trying to grasp it back under his control even whilst you were holding him hostage. It was kind of hot, but no, you needed to stay strong and continue on with the plan.
One look at his arm which he’d somehow stretched even further away from you after you’d moved cemented this even further in your mind.
Gently, you laid more of your wait on top of him, pressing your slit against the hotness in his underwear. Satisfaction shivered up your body as you rolled your hips ever so gently, your clit pulsing in time with your movements. 
He reacted exactly as you wanted to, barely able to hold onto his control, just like you. His lips parted and his eyes shut again, his head bent further into the pillow and it took everything in you not to go back down to bite at his neck. 
Never one to make you do all the work, Caleb met your rolling hips with assertive thrusts of his own, working a gasp out of you as he followed your teasing movements with his demands. “The game, baby, what is it?”
“I need you to touch me,” you revealed in a gasp. Feeling drunk on power, you reached out with both hands, pressing them on the peaks of his chest. His nipples fell between your fingers and you couldn’t help but close them, pinching at his nips, earning an unexpected response as he growled.
You saw in your periphery as he lifted his metal arm, moving closer towards you before he seemed to tighten his fist and rested it back down on the bed. 
Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?
You took one hand off his chest, leaving one to continue playing with his nipples, and reached back into his underwear. You pulled out his cock, feeling the weight of it, hot and thick, resting in the palm of your hand as you pressed it to the very centre of your clothed slit.
You moaned out and bent your head back. That wasn’t part of the game, you just couldn’t help your reaction to him, not when he was so close. 
“If you want me to touch you, then you have to take off the handcuffs, baby.” You could hear his teeth grinding whilst he spoke, and you knew in that moment he’d caught on, especially when he made a point to drag the metal arm back from where it had instinctively gone to.
You stopped all movement, still keeping his dick pressed against you, letting it twitch torturously against your clit. “You know that’s not the rules, touch me with your right arm Caleb.” He shook his head again. “Do it, baby, please.”
“Can’t.” He grunted out, tugging uselessly with his left arm. He was proving you right, you knew he couldn’t resist touching you, the same way you couldn’t resist touching him. He was just being stubborn, letting whatever silly worries he has control him. You just needed to push him more out of control.
You let go of his dick, watching it slap against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum that you wouldn’t have minded licking up. Maybe later.
“Look at me,” you ordered as you slowly pushed up the silky nightgown revealing inch after inch of skin. You might not have been the most confident of people, but you were at least confident of Caleb’s feelings about your body. You weren’t disappointed when his eyes followed every movement, mouth agape and eyes drunk with lust. Once the outfit was off, you reached out to touch your breasts, shoving them together and pulling on your nipples. The pulsing between your legs was an earthquake, demanding you slip onto his cock and take what was yours, but you couldn’t do that yet. Not yet. “Please touch me Caleb, I need you, so badly.”
Another grunt came out of him as he tugged harder on his arm, more beast than man in that moment. He managed to sit up, managed to get his mouth so close to the peak of your breast but you pulled away at the last second, leaving mere inches between your tip and his lips. You felt his hot breath lavish your skin and a moan crested out of your mouth unbidden. This might have been your mission, but you were just on edge as he was.
Reaching out you wrapped your hand into his hair, tugging on the strands slightly until he raised his head and met your eyes once more. “Touch me with your hand Caleb.”
“You handcuffed it, baby.”
“You have two hands,” you countered teasingly, but the mere mention of his metal arm had his expression shutting down and his head shaking once again. “Please, you won’t hurt me.” You’d abandoned the husky voice you’d been using beforehand, matching his honesty with your own pleading version. “You won’t.”
His head fell onto your chest but there was nothing sexual about the touch, not with his shoulders sagging. “I wouldn’t, not on purpose, but-”
“But nothing,” you cut him off whilst running your fingers through his hair. “It is physically impossible for you to cause me physical harm, nothing I wouldn’t want anyway.”
He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think he was ignoring you. It was clear as day that he was going through a battle, and as his partner, you needed to join this fight. Tentatively you reached out for his metal arm that was still throttling the quilt in a tight grip, the moment your fingers pressed on the back of his hand those fingers opened up. 
He wasn’t pulling away immediately, that was progress.
“If I lost my arm and got a prosthetic, would you think differently of me?” 
“Of course not,” he lifted his head up immediately, abhorring the thought that you might ever doubt how much he cares for you.
“Would you not let me touch you with that arm? Would you fear it?” Your fingers snaked in his and you brought the hand closer until it was resting between your stomach and his chest. Again, he just shook his head. You could see his jaw working, teeth clenching. He saw your argument, and he couldn’t exactly refute that you were making sense. You brought the hand further up, beginning to press your fingers between each knuckle. “I do not think differently of you because of your prosthetic. I will let you touch me, wherever, with your hands. I do not fear you, I love you, every inch inside and out.”
Like an animal bearing its neck to a predator, you unravelled his fingers before placing his palm around your throat.
His eyes watched every movement intensely, spellbound, and you watched second by second as that doubt grew dimmer and dimmer. Something else began to sparkle in his eyes, something familiar, the same something that was pulsing between your legs.
“My baby needs me to touch her?” He spoke so softly, you felt yourself melt a little bit more. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. “Show me where, baby, show me where and let me take care of you.”
Your skin was practically vibrating, his gentle dominance petting you into submission, a place only Caleb could get you to fall into. Because you only trusted Caleb to this extent. Trusted all of him.
Grabbing his hand once more, you lowered it down, letting his fingers trail over your breasts. Whilst that felt good, you needed him somewhere else far more. You let him give your nipple one small tug before pushing his arm back down further, as you got to the spot between your legs, you released him, showing him that you trusted him to take care of you exactly the way you needed.
He didn’t disappoint. His metal things were cold, the change in temperature a sharp change to the heat coming from your body, you couldn’t help but coo as he slipped them further into your wetness.
“Oh, my poor baby,” he hummed, “so wet and needy for me, I’m sorry I made you wait.”
“It’s okay.” Your hips moved forward automatically as the tips of his fingers pressed against your clit, touching you exactly where you needed to feed that demanding pulse between your legs. He went slow at first, beginning to speed up as he leant forward once more and captured your nipples in his mouth. You hadn’t even realised you’d moved closer to him. You moaned out again, the satisfaction of his touch only making your body demanding for more. “Please.”
“You want to cum baby?” His fingers moved with expert precision, his thumb taking the place of his fingers as they went exploring. One finger slipped inside of you, stealing all air from you before a second one joined it, air gasping out of you with your moans. “You want to cum for me, yeah?” He asked again.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted out as his fingers plunged deeper into you, reaching a spot that had lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. Then, he froze, his fingers still inside of you.
Opening your eyes, you were met with your boyfriend wearing an expression that was oh-so-deliciously Caleb. His eyes were alight with mischief, a smirk on his lips that you wanted to kiss over and over again. Gone was the man afraid to touch you with his hand. 
“Prove it,” he whispered out huskily, “make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl.”
He was asking you to prove a lot more than how much you wanted to cum on his fingers, which was a lot. Thankfully, you were up for the challenge. You began to move your hips, using his hand to get yourself off. All the while, you maintained eye contact. Letting him see how you fell apart at his touch.
“Keep going,” he encouraged, leaning forward once more to press kisses against your breast. When you fell even closer against him, desperate to feel all of him, he used this as an advantage to lick across your collarbone before biting down on the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “Good girl, keep going. Make a mess for me.” He groaned out.
“Do you hear that?” He whispered, not wanting to speak out the schlick that escaped every time you pushed his fingers back in your body. You were definitely soaking the bed, but you found it hard to care about anything other than just how good he felt. “So lewd, baby, but you just can’t help yourself can you?”
You shook your head, whining as you struggled to get out a word. 
“Can’t help yourself, need all of me, my dirty girl,” his breath was coming out with pants, his eyes laser focused now on where his fingers pushed into you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m yours baby, all fucking yours.” With those last couple of words he gave you everything, pushing his fingers in and out of you at a rabid pace, satisfaction rolling through him like a tsunami as he watched your wetness coat his entire hand, falling onto his lap where his cock stood at attention, hard and twitching, waiting for a chance to get in your hole.
“Fuck, Caleb!” You held onto his shoulders, worried you’d collapse on him as your hip thrusts became messy. All sensuality was lost, just an all-consuming need to cum. Caleb would provide, he always would. He’d always give you everything you needed. 
Every kiss against your neck, every growl that escaped him, was his solid vow that that would never change. 
“Cum for me pretty girl, give me what’s mine, give me it.” He hadn’t even finished before you were coming apart on his fingers. Your moans were cut off as a wave of pleasure rocked your body so harshly that you collapsed fully on top of him, body shaking with the aftershocks of the glorious orgasm he’d just gifted you. 
Caleb watched unblinkingly, taking in every shudder, every breath you made. Taking note of everything so he could never forget this moment, could never forget how easily he’d played with your body, with the one part of his he’d never believed could be used for such soft things. 
He pulled his arm out, wrapping his arm around your waist so he could keep you close. He saw his arm, witnessed his fingers splayed out on your back, so large they took up the entire middle and then some. He might not be able to feel you from his fingers, but he wasn’t scared, for the first time since he’d gotten that forsaken arm, he wasn’t afraid. He knew how you felt, how soft and how strong your body was against his. 
A giggle broke out of you after a few more seconds of heavy breathing, your mind catching up with what you’d done, and what Caleb had finally done. 
You lifted your head up, looking into his violet eyes with the biggest smile on your face. “I told you, you could never hurt me.” You said each word with such utter confidence that Caleb was left speechless. Instinct was running the show for him, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t forcing himself to play safe. You were right, he could never hurt you, his instinct was only ever to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy.
And he was only halfway through with that last part.
He pulled his metal hand back from around your waist, slipping the fingers into his mouth and sucking on each digit that had been inside you. 
Once he was done, he brought the fingers up to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and like the good girl you were, you did as he said. You let him push his cold metal fingers into your mouth, let him explore the inside of your mouth with those digits.
“Is this what you wanted all along, baby girl?” He asked. “Wanted to unravel me?”
He took his fingers out of your mouth, letting you answer his question. “I wanted you to see you the way I see you.”
He cocked his head to the side, “and how’s that?”
You leaned forward, letting your lips rest against his as you spoke your next words. “Completely and utterly mine.”
The next couple of things that happened, occured within the blink of an eye.
His metal hand reached up to the handcuff, snapping it with ease and releasing his other hand. Both hands wrapped around your body as he spun the two of you around until he was on top, his waist pressing against the apex of your thighs. His cock rutting once, twice, against your clit which in turn had your hip stuttering with the overstimulation. His left hand, warm and soft, pressed down on your hip, keeping you in place, whilst his other rested against your throat, the fingers curling and pressing down on your pulse points. Not hard enough to cut off air, just hard enough for you to be incapable of ignoring their presence.
Despite the rough way he’d handled you, he followed up these actions by pressing three gentle kisses against your lips. “Always.” Another kiss. Far more demanding, teeth grazing. “Always have been.” His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing across yours before he sucked it into his mouth. Another barely contained growl escaped him as he rutted against you more.
You just couldn’t help yourself. You’d got him to the very edge of control, and you wanted to see him lose it. 
Pulling back you bit down hard on his lip, gathering what little attention he had left which wasn’t completely taken by the wet warmth cradling his cock. 
“Prove it.” A demand, no, a challenge. The final stab at his control that pulled forth the beast.
Both hands moved beneath your thighs, pushing them against your chest so your pussy was completely open to him. Glistening under the few rays of sunlight that peaked into the room, as though trying to glimpse at the display of ravenous lust you were putting on. Caleb could understand why, you’d never looked so beautiful to him, spread open and soaking down your thighs, your hole twitching as though begging to be filled.
His poor baby. You didn’t need to beg anymore.
With ease he placed his dick against your hole, slipping in with barely any force because of how slick you were. 
Home. That’s what your pussy felt like to him.
The both of you groaned out, a cacophony of moans that he could listen to for days on end without ever growing sick of the tune. 
“I’ll prove it to you, pretty girl.” His voice was rough and hoarse as it fell from his lips, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from being tired, or because of all the moans he’d let escape. “You’ll never doubt me again, never doubt that your mine.” Each word was followed with a deep thrust, his cock reaching places you never knew existed until he’d explored them. 
He fell on top of you, surrounding you. You couldn’t see anything but him. Feel anything but him. Hear, smell, taste anything but him. 
His thrusts turned harder, quicker, every stab of his cock a lightning bolt to your senses.
You lost yourself, mouth opening with silent cries as your eyes stared unfocused on his face. Any time you closed them, he’d respond with a harsher, sharper, thrust of his hips. Even without words, he was in complete control of you.
“You need this, need me,” he told you in between grunts. You could only nod. Too drunk on the pleasure to tell him that he needed you too. He knew. He knew he needed you more, that’s why he was never going to let you go. “You need to cum all over this cock, need to make a mess, give it to me, pretty girl.” 
Your legs were pressed so deep into your chest you weren’t sure if you were breathing, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was his thick cock dragging in and out of your pussy. Pulling pleasure from you with each thrust.
“Give it to me, and I’ll give you my cum.” He promised, and oh, your pussy clenched tightly around him, liking the sound of that far too much. An almost sinister laugh came from your boyfriend as he felt it too. “Oh,” he hummed, apparently just as surprised as you were by that reaction. His thrusts slowed, but they seemed to turn longer, somehow going deeper than ever before. “You want my cum baby? Want me to fill you up until your overflowing with my seed?”
When you moaned in response, he knew he had his answer.
“Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to give you all my cummies? Fill you up? Give you my babies?” Another clench had him slamming down into you. “Want that too pretty girl. Want to see you full of me, knowing you’re filled with me, knowing everything who sees you will know what I did to your dirty little pussy.”
“Fuck.” Both hands wrapped around your thighs tightened to the point of bruising, but that was exactly what he wanted, to mark you in every possible way. And he could, because he was in control. “Fucking take it, pretty girl. Fuck, good girl. Good fucking girl.” 
His words were drowned out by each slam of his hips against yours. You knew you’d be hurting later but you were past the point of caring, you wanted every single thing he’d just promised you. 
Through heaving breaths, you managed to squeak out a hoarse ‘please’ and that was his undoing. His thrusts stuttered until he pressed as far into you as possible and then you felt your insides being flooded. 
It almost felt unreal, there was so much. You felt every corner of your insides being covered and then the knot inside you released with him, your pussy tightening almost instinctively around him, trying to keep his essence inside of you.
“Good girl,” he continued to praise, throwing out little phrases of admiration as you both rode out your orgasms.
Then, when the final wave crested and fled, he released your legs from his hold. His hands stayed steady, controlling how they fell around him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly just in case. His fingers caressed your soft skin, massaging at your thighs where most of the strain had been.
He moved so most of his weight wasn’t on you but he was still hovering over you. Pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he left his lips to rest there as he mumbled out an almost reverent, “thank you.”
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I’ve been thinking about doing a part two where Caleb gets revenge and handcuffs the reader, let me know if you’d be interested.
217 notes · View notes
boybandbaby · 2 days ago
Text
Girl Can’t Help It (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
Tumblr media
word count: 2994
warnings/tags: established relationship, 18+ only MDNI, inexperienced!spencer and inexperienced!reader, massage, dry humping?, grinding, mattress humping, cum in pants, hand (Spencer’s ) kink, clit stimulation, nipple play
Spencer had been doting on you all day. You’d both had the day off and planned to spend it together. Not only that but it was the first time you’d be spending the night together.
Your relationship had only blossomed within the last few months. You’d both taken everything really slow including flirting, then dates, and then making it official. While you’d been dating for about 7 months, you’d only been official for about 3. Some of this was due to your job with the BAU, but essentially it came down to both of your inexperience.
You both knew there was really no timeline for a relationship and decided to do this at your own pace, whatever made you both comfortable and happy.
Here you were on a Friday morning, slipping a cardigan on, and not so patiently waiting for Spencer to let you know he arrived. You were excited yet nervous about the next step in your relationship. Spencer would be staying over and seeing you first thing in the morning. While initially there was some dread and nerves about that idea, you tried to erase it away.
Just as you were packing the essentials for the day in a small bag, you heard a knock on your door. Checking your phone for any texts from your boyfriend but not finding any, had your brow furrowing. You check the peephole to see his face pressed closely to the door, only one of his eyes visible.
You shake your head and laugh, pulling the door open. “Good morning, baby.” You pucker your lips as he slips inside. He gives your lips a short peck and then one to your forehead before he’s rushing to put a brown paper bag and two drinks down. You help him out by grabbing his duffel off the doormat and bringing it inside.
“What’s all this?” You smile and close the door. “Thought we were going to breakfast?”
“Actually, change of plans. Which I’m sorry for but I think you’ll like our new plans.” He hands you your favorite drink from the cafe where you had your first date. His hands then reach for the brown bag and his face is shoved into it, searching for the pastry he picked out for you.
“Okay, spill.” You take a sip.
“Well, I was thinking. There’s this new exhibit at the museum we were talking about last week. I thought maybe we could go to that and then stop by the bookstore and then try that new Greek restaurant down the street. You know the one with the cool logo? Then I figured we could go to the store and get food and snacks for dinner and a movie and turn in early.” He hadn’t realized but his hand tightened on the bag as he rambled, afraid he had done too much or maybe you wouldn’t want to do any of the things he said.
“Sounds like a plan, baby.” You place your cup down on the coffee table. “Now, I’ll only go with you today if you let me pay for lunch.”
He opens his mouth to protest, “nope. We already talked about this. I said the first time we try it, I pay and if you try to pay while we’re there I’ll revoke your sleepover pass. Sound like a deal?”
“Sounds like a deal.” He smiles, offering your pastry. You take a bite as he’s holding it and lean forward for a kiss. He already has powdered sugar on his lips from taking a bite of his own sweet treat.
Throughout the day, Spencer holds your bag, ties your shoes when they come undone, refills your drink at lunch when it’s just ice. You try to return the favor by carrying his books as he browses the shelves, instant regret when your shoulder aches from how heavy the stack is. You suffer through as he excitedly pulls a brown book from the highest shelf and explains the authors interesting childhood.
Once you hit the grocery store, Spencer takes over with pushing the cart and grabbing all the items. You cling to his side as you rest against him. It makes it harder to walk but he doesn’t mind, he knows you’re beat from the day of activities.
You get home shortly after and both change into pajamas and cook a quick dinner.
Once dinner was over, you had retreated to the bedroom, Spencer only catching a portion of what you said you were doing. Something about needing a moment to let your stomach settle.
Spencer didn’t mind, packing the leftovers of your meal in two containers for you both to have tomorrow on a surprise picnic he’s planned. He washes the dishes, wipes the counters and table, then sweeps the floor before turning the light off. He thinks he’s given you enough alone time and he’s ready to smother you in affection.
You remove the pillow from your face when he enters. He tiptoes into the room with your bag of snacks.
“You feeling okay?” He watches you sit up and wince, he himself crawling over to you on the bed. He rests on his knees and sits on his calves, bringing your face in his hands. He scans your face only to find a pout and closed eyes.
“My body aches. I don’t think I’ve been this exhausted since that case in Florida we did a few weeks ago. I think I was so excited about today I burned through all my energy by the time we got to the grocery store.”
Spencer laughs, closed mouth and shy. His hands slowly slide from your cheeks and jaw down your necks and onto your shoulders. His fingers squeeze and knead at the tension. “It probably didn’t help that you carried all my new books.”
“I offered.” You shrug, eyes still closed and melting into his touch. “Wanted to do something nice for you since you do nice things for me all the time. Like massaging me.”
“You do nice things for me all the time too. Like pay for lunch.” He quips.
“Only after a mild argument.” You open one eye, “stubborn you are.”
“Not stubborn, just a gentleman.”
“You really are. Your hands feel so nice.” You drag out the so.
Spencer has become more comfortable initiating physical touch with you over the last few weeks as you both test your boundaries. While you haven’t had sex yet, you’ve made out some and definitely cuddle most days.
He decides to push the limit a little bit, see where you’re at with moving forward. “Do you want a back massage?” He cringes at the way he blurts it out.
He watches your eyes open up and how you bite your lip while thinking. You don’t want to sound too eager at the idea of his hands on your body. You ponder before nodding.
You shuffle to lay on your stomach, belly full of food and butterflies. Spencer shuffles to stand as you shuffle towards one end of the bed.
“Do you have lotion or something?” He looks around.
“Bathroom.” You mumble as you pull a pillow beneath your head, hugging your arms around it.
Spencer jogs over to the bathroom and searches in the cabinet for lotion. Once he gets it he runs back into the room. He’s stunned when he sees that you’ve removed your shirt. Sure your back is the only thing in sight but knowing you’re half naked makes him falter in his movements.
“Babe, I uh, I could only find the vanilla lotion. Is that one okay?” He clears his throat.
“Yeah…” You nearly whisper, sensing his change in energy, not sure if you’ve overstepped. You know taking off your shirt is something you’ve never done around him, it’s new for both of you.
He steps forward and runs lotion in his palms. He tentatively presses his palms, fingers stretched out against your skin.
He starts rubbing in circles, applying slight pressure, watching as the lotion disappears into your skin.
“You’re going to have to massage me after. I’m too tall for this.” He smiles, back aching as he leans over you.
“Well come closer, come sit with me.” You urge. “But don’t stop, it feels too nice.”
“Straighten your legs, I’m going to sit on the back of your thighs.” He pushes your thigh closer to your other leg. He hops onto the bed and throws his pajama clad legs over your thighs.
Your breath hitches at the position and Spencer senses your body tense up. “You’ve gotta relax. Isn’t that the whole point of a massage?”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He smiles before bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His hands rub along the curves of your neck before trailing down the sides of your body. His hands squeeze at the sides just under your armpits where your bra would be.
You bury your face in the pillow, suppressing a moan as best as you can.
“Can you breathe over there?” He laughs.
“Shut up and do your job.” You yell into the pillow. He laughs again and continues his work.
Spencer runs his hands down the curve of your lower back, fingers grazing just above your waistband. Your body reacts on its own. You let out a half moan half squeal as your hips grind into the bed.
Spencer already knew you were getting turned on just by your sounds but actually feeling it beneath him has him hooked. He scoots up, pushing you into the mattress deeper.
You let out a sigh and he sees your fingers grip onto the pillow case. His clothed cock is pressed up against your covered butt.
He decides to experiment and grind his hips against you, his hands kneading small circles to keep him grounded above you.
You’re both glad you can’t see each other’s faces or else you’d feel embarrassed enough to stop. Just as his hips come forward again, you push yours back, back arching slightly.
Spencer whimpers at the contact and finds himself falling forward. He barely catches himself before crushing you.
“Are you okay?” He whispers near your ear. His voice and breath on your ear cause a shiver to run through your entire being. “Let me know if it’s too much.”
“No, it’s really good. You’re good at this.” You turn your head to try and look at him.
“Want me to keep going?”
You nod and wiggle your hips. “I think you missed a spot.”
“Did I? Tell me where.” He sits back up and places his hands on the center of your back.
“Lower.” You mumble. His hands move down, pressing and gripping at your skin. He knows he didn’t miss anything, he made sure of that. His hands stop on your hips before he’s slowly grinding into you again.
He’s unbelievably hard, has been since your first suppressed moan. He settles his cock in the crease of your thighs and cheeks. He ruts his hips forward and watches you grind with him.
“Fuck…” he groans out in a low voice. “Feels good.”
“Don’t stop, baby.” You moan. Spencer is most likely leaving bruises with his tight grip but it feels so good to hear him and have him like this. You’re usually composed and respectful boyfriend, falling apart at just the touch of your bodies, not even naked, makes you forget any pain.
“I’ve been wanting this, you, for a while.” He grunts.
“I’ve been wanting you, Spencer. Couldn’t wait much longer.” You whine. The friction of your underwear and pajama bottoms, the bed sheets and mattress against your pussy has you panting.
It’s when his hands caress your sides, moving upwards higher as his fingertips graze the sides of your breasts, you feel him losing control.
“Shit, I’m close already.” He breaths.
“Yeah? Keep going.” You urge. Spencer pins you down into the mattress as his hips sloppily drill into you.
“Feels so fucking good.” He leans forward and drops his forehead to the back of your head. You prop yourself onto your elbows, sitting up only a bit. Spencer wraps his right arm around your shoulders, holding you against his chest as his left hand moves down to hold onto the side of your left thigh.
“You gonna cum for me, baby?” You turn your head to meet his. His forehead now rests on your temple as he pants into your ear.
“God yes, I’m-“ He shuts his eyes, hands holding onto you for dear life. He doesn’t finish his sentence as he makes a mess in his boxers and pants. It almost feels never ending with ropes of his liquid painting his plaid boxers. He lets out a low groan. He feels sticky and messy and dirty as his breathing falters. His chest rises and falls against your back.
You smirk as he buries his face in your hair. He chuckles before shaking his head. “That’s just embarrassing.”
“It’s wasn’t.” You assure. “It was hot. Love hearing you like that.”
He feels his entire face, neck and ears turn hot. “Come lay with me.” He murmurs. He sits up and pulls you up with him. Before you can turn around, he’s pulled you back onto his chest. He lays haphazardly against the headboard and pillows.
“You don’t want to clean up?” You laugh as he wiggles you both into a comfortable position.
“No, wanna feel you.” He whispers huskily into your ear as you lay back against his chest. His right arm is wrapped around your chest, both breasts covered by his forearm as his left hand wraps lower, around your belly.
“I wanna feel you too.” You cover his hands with your own.
“I think you already did.” He laughs.
“Not fully!” You protest. “Take off your shirt.”
He doesn’t argue, pushing you forward so he can throw his shirt off. He tosses it onto the floor before yanking you back against him.
“Can I touch you?” He asks. “I want you to cum for me.”
You nod and began pulling your bottoms down. You lift your hips and shimmy the fabric off your legs before balling them up and tossing them somewhere.
Your head rests against his left shoulder as you sit between his open legs. You can feel his semi hard cock against your lower back and you picture how messy he is. The thought has you bending your knees and spreading them open. Your feet lay flat as you wait for him. His left arm wraps under your breast, fingers playing with your nipple.
You moan and arch your back slightly. He stops your movement with his arm in place. His right hand, trails down your stomach and soon dips into your folds. It’s almost humiliating how wet you are. Spencer reassures that’s not the case when he hums at the first touch.
“Wow,” he gasps. “Made you this wet from a little dry humping.” It’s slightly teasing.
“Shut up,” you laugh. “Can’t help getting wet at the sounds you were making.” You attempt to make fun of him but it falls short when his fingers find your clit. “Oh..”
Spencer pinches at your nipple as his middle and pointer finger make circles against your clit. Every so often his fingers dip lower to collect your wetness and smear it along your pussy.
“It’s not fair.” You moan. “I didn’t even get to touch you.”
“I thought your body aches, huh?” He kisses the shell of your ear. “I’m supposed to be helping you relax.”
“I’m relaxed.” You whine. Your body betrays you as your chest rapidly rises and falls. “Don’t stop.”
His fingers continue working your clit as his hand cups the whole of your boob. Your head lolls to the right and meets his jaw. You’re somehow relaxed, lazy, and sluggish against him as your insides burn and the intensity increases.
“I fucking love your hands.” You cry out. “Keep going please.”
“Anything for you my sweet girl.” From this angle he can see your face. Your head is thrown back against his chest, eyes closed and mouth in an “O.”
Spencer notices the way your legs twitch and your toes curl against the sheets. Your hands grip his thighs and he hears the soft sound of your voice rambling, “right there, right there, don’t stop, oh fuck, please please please, right there.”
It happens suddenly, your body tensing and spasming against his. You let out a long moan that turns into a sigh as you slump against him. Spencer keeps his arms wrapped around your body as he leans his cheek on top of your head.
“I would say this has been a successful first sleepover so far.” He jokes. You laugh, loudly and unfiltered. He follows suit and laughs with you. When the laughter dies down, he asks, “Should we go shower?”
“Together?” You twist to see him.
“Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” He shrugs.
“You’ve seen me naked, now I get to see you.” You pump your eyebrows twice.
“You will not be seeing me naked. You better keep your eyes focused on my neck, up. No wandering.”
“That’s so unfair, babe.” You push yourself up, grabbing a pillow to cover your body.
“Hey!” He scrambles off the bed. “Don’t cover up now.”
“If I can’t see your goodies, you can’t see mine.” You back away, turning to exit while pulling the pillow to cover your backside.
Spencer runs after you and pulls the pillow away before wrapping his arms around you. “Fine, you can see my goodies.” He rolls his eyes.
You wiggle your brows before pulling back and hooking your fingers into his bottoms. As you pull away from his body, you pull his waistband out. You peek down and see the inside of his pants. He’s still hard and covered in his mess. “Oh wow, I think I’ve found my second favorite body part of yours.”
98 notes · View notes
aias-fxtns · 1 day ago
Text
"Not if you don't let me," Daemon mutters, "kostilus..." he shakes his head, "ivestragon nyke skorkydoso olvie yno kostā mōzugon gō ao pykagon nyke hen." He scratches his eyes before looking at you. Please... tell me how much of me you can drink before you spit me out.
Crying, screaming, dying. The constant questioning and deprivation of assurance on both of them is killing me. They need therapy and I do too.
You melt wax over a candle and seal the letter with your stamp. He watches you do this, and as he does, he imagines all the times you did the same for his letters. He wonders if you did so with the same ease. He wonders if you paid it littler or more attention than this. He wonders if he'd ever be at the receiving end of your affections ever again.
He always wonders, but when he do try to be inside of her circle she always shuts him down. Good for you sis, make him suffer💋.
You come to life when you reach Aegon's quarters. The boy immediately runs towards you. You smile and lean down. He jumps into your arms and you tenderly pick him up, sealing him into a hug
"Aunt!" he beams, clutching your cheeks.
"My boy," you coo, embracing him fondly.
Aegon giggles, his little arms wrapping around you. You remain like this for a moment before he pulls away and grins, clutching your cheeks again, "play!"
"KESSA. KESSA!" Aegon cheers in agreement.
Ahhh my baby🥹🥹🥹, lemme put you on my pocket and lets runaway—far from this bs.
"Would they have liked me?" Daemon whispers.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! YES, YES, FUCK YES!!!!!
Tumblr media
When he pulls away, he takes deep breath and mutters, "kepa iksis kesīr, Alaeric se Alyrie... shijetra nyke... geros ilas." Father is here, Alaeric and Alyrie... forgive me... good bye.
I need therapy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Daemon reaches for you, one hand on your arm, the other on your back. He rests his head on yours, his voice is pained as he mutters, "they know," he shakes his head and presses a kiss on your ear. He whispers, "everyone knows."
The pain, THEEE PAINNNNNNNN!!!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Friend... I could be your friend, thinks Daemon.
I mean🤨🤐..... you had your chances but you're too good at fucking everything up, so yeah, be friends with yourself, ig 🤷‍♂️.
Tumblr media
Idk why, but when I'm reading this chapter the only thing I could hear in my thoughts is "Love's gonna get you killed, But pride's gonna be the death of you, and you and me". 😭😭😭. Siri, play "Pride" by Kendrick Lamar.
Tumblr media
Tormented Spirit | 16
Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, violence, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: guys we're just gonna roll with the fact daemon knows how to braid hair realllly well ok stfu. also ASHFOASF long time no see i hope you enjoyyy!!!!!! | cross posted on ao3
@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones
Tumblr media
You find it hard to dress yourself for your clothes were far too heavy for you. What's more, they looked like they were eating you alive with how much weight you've lost. Your sister offered to have new dresses commissioned for you, but the moment your father caught wind of it, he made sure to send away any tailor that would fit you, insisting that you would regain your weight. You only did after Aegon was born, but as it remains, you look odd in your ill-fitting garbs.
By the time you are finished dressing yourself, you stare at your reflection. Black suited you, you think... it made the little color that remained on your face pop up.
Daemon emerges from the bathroom as you were about to fix your hair. His tresses looked tangled in its dripping state. A towel covered his belly and thighs, skin still damp. And his skin, his skin was burned. Were once you remembered both faint and deep cuts rested, now rested there was thick and textured marks.
"Dae-" you start but immediately stop when he heads straight towards his closet, hastily moving to dress himself.
You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you ought to help, approach, or even speak. You stare at him, hoping he'd acknowledge you. He doesn't.
You sigh and slowly walk to your vanity, though your eyes remain on him. He spares you a look, immediately looking away when he catches you staring. He puts on his breeches and pulls his towel off. He ties its laces, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It wasn't. In fact, it was not even an easy feat, as his hands were trembling.
You don't notice that exactly, but you do notice his frantic movements which were so unlike him. You wonder if it was consequence war, and you find yourself pretending not to notice in case it was the case. The last thing you wanted was to trigger him today of all days. You wanted the day you send off your children to be peaceful for the both of you.
You walk sit before your mirror, eyes on your reflection as you comb your hair. Your gaze keeps flickering back to Daemon though.
He notices, and can hardly bare it. He haphazardly puts on his dress shirt then grabs his doublet, pacing across the room. He shudders as he chucks his towel on the bed. He huffs and leans on the table where an ewer of wine laid. He chucks his top on the surface beside it and pours himself a drink.
His aim is poor. Red sputters on the table due to his shaky grip. He nearly makes the cup overflow, but manages to control himself. Quickly, the prince downs the alcohol, but it seems to do nothing for his nerves, and absolutely nothing for the maddening nightmare that was torturing him so greatly.
In truth, he did not know if he quivered out of fear or anger because of it. He did not know which part haunted him more, the fact that his subconscious thought this up, or the fact that it might be true.
He gasps when he hears his name. He sets his cup down with a thud and turns over his shoulder. He scratches his eyes as he looks at you, face shining though your brows were furrowed.
"A-are... are you-"
"It's nothing," he quips, stuffing his dress shirt into his trousers.
You shift on your chair to face him and frown, "Daemon."
He freezes, jaw clenching with an unwillingness to confess what was torturing him.
You see his steely gaze and his tensed shoulders. You knew better than to pursue an uncomfortable conversation with him right now, so you lower your gaze and slowly shake your head, "I... I simply wanted to ask if you would help braid my hair."
He freezes, "what?"
"I thought it would be good to-"
Daemon grabs his doublet and hastily wears it, nearly sprinting towards you.
"- have you..." your breath hitches. You look at him through his reflection as he comes behind you, "... do it in the fashion of your house."
His hands tremble as he reaches for your hair.
"... if... it pleases you."
"It pleases me," he blurts, stroking your hair, "thank you."
You shake my head and sigh, "I-... thank you." You lower your gaze to your hands, "might I write while you do this?"
Daemon's brows furrow as you apprehensively turn to him. He shakes his head but then nods, "o... of course."
You watch him reach for the comb.
He feels its weight before shaking his head again, "wh... to whom?"
"My twin," you say simply, opening the drawer to pull out some parchment and ink. Your eyes slowly look at his reflection as you get your quill and shut the drawer.
Daemon nods. He grips the comb and shrugs. He shakes his head before gathering your locks and brushing through it. He clenches his teeth, trying not to sound so sour as he speaks. He fails, "you write to him oft?"
You nearly tell him everyday, but you change it to: "yes."
He notices that you had two pieces of parchment on your table. He cannot help the jealousy that blooms at the idea of you writing long letters for him. "Much to say, have you?"
Your eyes flicker up to him.
Daemon does not look at you as he parts your hair and begins braiding.
"What?"
"You have two pieces of parchment."
"Oh..." you look back to the table, not thinking he'd notice, "the other is for Laenor."
He freezes.
"I do not write to him as oft," you mutter.
Daemon cannot help the sound he makes. His breath hitches as he gathers your dark hair into his fingers. He chuckles rather manically, "of course."
You decide not to reply. You simply leave him to his work as you work on your letters.
You finish writing your letters before he finishes fixing your hair. Daemon watches you fold the notes neatly and prepare wax to seal them off. Part of him wishes to enquire what you have to say to those wretched men, but another part knows he might regret it. Surely, to your brother at least, you would air out your grievances. The prince does not know if he could stomach the knowledge you'd express your hatred for him with someone else.
You melt wax over a candle and seal the letter with your stamp. He watches you do this, and as he does, he imagines all the times you did the same for his letters. He wonders if you did so with the same ease. He wonders if you paid it littler or more attention than this. He wonders if he'd ever be at the receiving end of your affections ever again.
When he gets to the last part of the last braid, he finds himself unwilling to pin it in place with the rest for your hair. He stares at his work, at the interwoven plaits going down your shoulders. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, so badly wishing he could kiss you.
Perhaps he could, but then you'd push him away. He would not survive.
Finally, he pins the last part of your hair and slowly withdraws his hands, "it is done."
You immediately come to stand and turn to him.
Daemon watches as you look at his unbuttoned doublet. His stomach drops when you begin to fasten them.
"Shall I braid your h-"
"No," he blurts, shaking his head, "I do not want you to touch me."
You freeze, unsure if you heard him correctly. You slowly pull away, "you... you don't want me to touch you?"
"No," he shakes his head.
You knit your brows and nods slowly, "I see... why?"
"Why?" he whispers, as if he was stabbed, "why does it matter? Do you want to touch me?"
"I... I want to be civil with you."
His nostrils flare as he chuckles dryly.
"I do not want to be at war with you."
"But we are!" Daemon blurts, "love is war."
"Says who?" you knit your brows.
"Says my bleeding heart," he mutters, as he fixes his doublet himself. His eyes begin to water, so he turns away.
You feel your throat tighten. You shrug, "is this your way of saying you love me?"
"I have always loved you," he turns back to you, tears staining his cheeks.
You laugh.
He rarely hears such a sound from your lips and seems to hate it. "Mazemā nyke syt iā pirtirys?" he mutters under his breath. You take me for a liar.
You chuckle again and shake your head. You shrug, "mazeman ao syt iā mittys." I take you for a fool.
Daemon lowers his head.
You nearly reach out for him, but then you remember he does not invite your touch. You turn to the door then back to him, "let us be civil today."
"No," he lifts his gaze, walking to the vanity. He grabs a hair tie and does his hair, "I want a peace treaty."
"What?"
"The Stranger has scratched my skin in the Stepstones. I know better than to believe civility can be achieved between your enemies."
You laugh again, but this time, it is far unbearable. It is loud and anxious and broken. You clutch your chest when you begin to feel it tighten, "and I am your enemy, Daemon?"
"Daor," he says desperately. He grabs your arms and rapidly shakes his head, "dōrī ao.... yn nyke." No. Never you... but I.
You stare at him as he slowly pulls away.
"I have become your enemy whether either of us care to admit it or not," he shakes his head as he turns to his feet, "I cannot reconcile my mistakes; I can ask only for a peace treaty."
You rub your forehead as you lean on your chair, "I do not understand."
"You-" he chokes. He clears his throat, "you say look at me and see only grief and loss." He wipes his face, "I do not want it to be so."
You huff and shake your head, "it is not something you can change."
"Not if you don't let me," Daemon mutters, "kostilus..." he shakes his head, "ivestragon nyke skorkydoso olvie yno kostā mōzugon gō ao pykagon nyke hen." He scratches his eyes before looking at you. Please... tell me how much of me you can drink before you spit me out.
"Daemon."
He looks at you, violet eyes shrouded by pink.
"I..." you shake your head, "don't know."
He sighs, "plea-"
"I'm telling you, I don't know."
He sighs again, shaking his head then nodding it, "sȳz." Fine.
You watch him step back and motion to the door.
"After you."
You stare at him for a moment and grip your skirts tightly in your hands. You draw a deep breath before walking off.
When you open the door, you hear the clanking of steel. You see Arryk and Erryk stationed outside your door.
"Princess," they greet in unison.
You frown at them, "Erryk... Arryk."
Arryk's eyes rather unwillingly catch sight of Daemon walking towards you. He clenches his jaw and steps aside, not wanting to see him. Erryk ignores him altogether as he reaches a hand for you, "will we be heading for the solar to break fast?"
You shake your head and push his hands down.
Erryk's jaw feathers as Daemon comes to your side.
Daemon's gaze remains lowered. He mutters softly, "kesan bartos naejot se ripo," before slipping past you and walking off.
Erryk eyes him hotly where Arryk turns to you, giving you a wary look, "what did he say?"
You shake your head and offer a smile, "he said he'll be going to the pit."
Arryk simultaneously thinks how fortunate and cowardly it was that Daemon will be flying off. Erryk says it out loud, "so, he's leaving on Caraxes?"
You rub your belly, "we will be sending our Alaeric and Alyrie off."
The twins freeze.
"I do not know if Daemon spoke to the maesters about it already," you mutter, "would one of you go and check. I... I do not want to see them... not like that."
"I can go," Arryk nods.
You nod rapidly and offer a smile, "thank you."
Just as his brother leaves, Erryk reaches a hand out to you again, "perhaps you ought to break fast."
You shake your head, finally taking his hand, "I... I will be sick."
His brows furrow, "you must promise me you will eat something after then."
"Erryk-"
The shake of his head cuts you off.
You take a deep breath, "you know it is hard."
"Then perhaps you can eat with the prince."
Your eyes widen at the idea.
It takes a moment for Erryk to realize why and he quickly dispels the thought, "Aegon. With your nephew, the prince."
You heave and shake your head.
His jaw tightens, "I would never im-"
"I know," you raise a hand, "I just... I misunderstood. Forgive me."
His nostrils flare, "there is no world in which you could ever do something that offends me."
You come to life when you reach Aegon's quarters. The boy immediately runs towards you. You smile and lean down. He jumps into your arms and you tenderly pick him up, sealing him into a hug
"Aunt!" he beams, clutching your cheeks.
"My boy," you coo, embracing him fondly.
Aegon giggles, his little arms wrapping around you. You remain like this for a moment before he pulls away and grins, clutching your cheeks again, "play!"
You kiss his forehead, "actually, we're going to go outside today."
Aegon blinks, his silver lashes fluttering, "play?"
You rock him in your arms, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.
He gasps.
"Gaomagon jaelā naejot ūndegon iā zaldrīzes?" Do you want to see a dragon?
"KESSA. KESSA!" Aegon cheers in agreement.
With this, you head to your sister's chambers and tell her of your plans for today. Alicent offers you a solemn expression before giving you a hug. She says she will change and inform the king. You then head off to the last person you wished to invite.
"Come in," his voice is deep.
Aegon leans into you as Erryk opens the door. You step into the Hand's office and nod at your father, "hello, my lord."
Otto lifts his gaze from his desk and furrows his brows, "what's happened?"
You shake your head as he slowly comes to a stand. You rub Aegon's back, "nothing... I... I've told Daemon about the twins."
He tenses at the thought, eyes turning to Erryk, who stood just by the door.
"We will be sending them off now."
Sending them off? Otto relaxes when he realizes who you actually meant. He nods and walks towards you. He places a hand on your shoulder, "I am glad."
You gulp as you look at him, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
The walk is long and quiet, save for the babbling of Aegon. He was rather fond of his grandfather's pin, and reached out to it every time Otto got close enough to.
"No," Otto would quip each time, raising a brow at the boy.
Aegon, none the wiser, would giggle, thinking it was a game.
At some point, the old man had to surrender his pin denoting his status to the boy when he managed to get pull on it. With a sigh, he hands it to his grandson.
You immediately pull it away from Aegon when he tries to eat it. You quip with a raised brow, "no."
The sight of your babies on a pyre sends a chill down your spine. The maesters and Arryk are already there, waiting for the rite to commence. The sight is too much, thus why you fix your eyes on Aegon.
Otto notices your discomfort and comes to your side, blocking your view of the pyre with his back. He turns to one of your wards, then the other. He motions with his head, wordlessly beckoning them over.
Erryk and Arryk oblige.
"It would be best if my daughter have this moment with her husband," Otto says, "stay back unless called upon."
Arryk clenches his jaw and Erryk purses his lips. Regardless, they nod and speak in unison, "my lord."
Soon, the king, the queen, and the crown princess arrive. It's rather fitting, for right after, there is a loud screech in the sky. Aegon immediately reacts, gasping as his hands fly up to cover his ears. A flash of red soars overhead.
The poor boy is overwhelmed by the sound of beating wings and begins to clamor and panic. You do your best to calm him and instinctively turn to your sister, finding her clutching her swollen belly in worry. You debate whether you should hand her Aegon, but you decide to try and calm the boy, not wanting to strain her by making her carry the boy.
You turn to my father, who wipes his grandson's cheeks and strokes his head.
You kiss Aegon's cheeks and rock him, beginning to sing, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red— shhh it's alright."
Caraxes soon lands before the pyre and screeches.
Aegon joins suit, screaming into you shoulder as he clings onto me for dear life.
Daemon sees this, jaw clenching at the sight. He watches Otto block Aegon's view of Caraxes, muttering something to the boy. He watches his sister come forward to calm the boy. He watches you rock him. The Hightowers are unified because of his brother's son. He unsaddles himself from Caraxes.
"DAOR!" Viserys screams, just as the blood wyrm cranes his head dangerously close to you. Rhaenyra gasps as he watches Caraxes seemingly try to attack. The king steps forward, repeating the command, making Caraxes pull his long neck back and screech back in offense.
Aegon shrieks in terror of the loud noise.
The king does not flinch, but he does turn to Daemon, "visagon aōha dyni, valonqar!" Control your beast, (younger) brother.
Daemon calls out to Caraxes, ordering him to calm and obey. He soon is on the ground, marching towards his dragon's head, "gīda ilagon!" He raises his hands, "gīda ilagon." Calm down.
Caraxes huffs through his nostrils.
Aegon wails into your shoulder.
The dragon screeches again.
Daemon grits his teeth, looking over his shoulder. He turns to you then his brother, "visagon aōha tresy." Control your son.
Upon hearing this, you glare at Daemon, "he's just a babe!"
Caraxes bleats at the sound of your voice.
"Do not be so defensive. A babe's wailing is meant to be annoying," Daemon rebuts.
"Here," Alicent mutters, taking Aegon from you.
"Ali-"
"It's alright, sister," she turns to you, kissing her boy, "I can manage." She turns to Otto, "might I have your arm, father?"
Otto obliges.
The two walk off, enough that Caraxes was not so close. You can't help but glare at the beast, though you knew any irritation you had towards him was irrational, as he was just a dragon and Aegon was just a boy.
Caraxes cranes over to you again, letting out another loud noise.
Both Daemon and Viserys call out to the beast, expecting the worst from him. Even Arryk and Erryk, who was watched from afar, grip their swords involuntarily and find themselves stepping closer as Caraxes pushes his snout into you.
Caraxes does nothing perilous but does huff. Still, it garners a corrective command from his rider, who comes in front of you
The beast makes a displeased sound, baring his teeth, frightening Aegon yet again. The sound of the boy's cries make you snap, "lyka, Caraxes," you call out, "skoros gaomā?" Quiet, Caraxes. What are you doing?
Daemon turns to you then Caraxes, calling him to obey.
Viserys watches his brother gaze upon you. He watches Daemon take your hand and reach it out towards his ride. His lips part as Caraxes leans into your joined hands. He turns back to his wife and frowns at the sight of his red faced boy. It was clear Aegon was frightened for you with how he was reached his hand in your direction.
The king sighs and comes to him, taking the boy into his arms. Rhaenyra watches his father rock his half-brother. He watches the boy sigh into his arms. She looks away, focus back to Caraxes.
Daemon leans against Caraxes. He mutters softly to him as he presses your hand into the dragon's snout. The beast is finally calm. You feel the warmth of his scales and you wonder if he'd eat you now that you were no longer carrying his rider's children.
Daemon topples back as Caraxes pushes into him, hard enough to brush against you. You gasp when he nudges your chest.
Your husband recognizes the affection and finds himself unable to bridle his own. He pulls you into his chest, pretending it was out of concern— to keep you upright. He presses his arm against yours, his palm resting on the back of your hand. He links his fingers into yours and rests your joined hands atop Caraxes, whispering, "he missed you."
You chuckle, looking over your shoulder to Daemon, "that's not possible."
Daemon leans his forehead against yours and you immediately look away. Though the sentiment hurt, he looks back at his mount and persists, "yet it's true."
Caraxes huffs and begins to curl before you. He then lies down, shaking his head as he did.
Daemon's eyes turn to the pyre, throat tightening at the sight of the two small bodies, wrapped up in cloth. It was no longer white, as time brought a brownish hue to it.
You look at him when he withdraws his hand. You watch his jaw clench as he looks to the distance. You pull away to place a hand on his rib, "do you want to go closer?"
His hand comes atop yours. For a moment, you remember how he said he didn't want your touch, but instead of pushing you away, he squeezes you. His lowers his head and licks his lips, "I am unworthy."
You face him fully. You shake your head and fix his collar, "you are their father."
You entire body seems to react when he speaks your name. Your shoulders tense. Your breath hitches. Your eyes water.
He watches you intently. He takes your hands and clutches by his chest. He frowns and leans closer, daring to press his forehead into you again.
You let him. You close your eyes and let him press against you. Tears rush down your cheeks.
"Would they have liked me?" Daemon whispers.
You chuckle bitterly, eyes opening. You see that his face is just as teary as yours. You sniffle and shake your head, "the gods only know."
Daemon wipes his nose on his sleeve.
You both walk towards the pyre. Caraxes lifts his head to look down upon you. Daemon frowns when he sees just how tiny the bodies are. He notices then they smell like the oil you put on yourself, albeit mustier. He cares little about the unpleasant undertone and presses a kiss on both their bodies.
When he pulls away, he takes deep breath and mutters, "kepa iksis kesīr, Alaeric se Alyrie... shijetra nyke... geros ilas." Father is here, Alaeric and Alyrie... forgive me... good bye.
Daemon turns to you, his hold on you tightening, "gaomagon emā mirros naejot ivestragon?" Do you have anything to say?
You step forward, biting your lips as gaze upon your babes. You release Daemon, immediately bursting into tears. You reach out to them one last time, lips trembling, "I wish you knew how much I love you."
You nearly topple back as you pull away.
Daemon reaches for you, one hand on your arm, the other on your back. He rests his head on yours, his voice is pained as he mutters, "they know," he shakes his head and presses a kiss on your ear. He whispers, "everyone knows."
You crumble. You turn to him and sob into his chest.
He wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. He calls out your name, "I'm here now."
You whine.
"It would take sword and flame to sever me from you."
When you were calm enough, Daemon leads you off. He is vigilant of his surroundings but more importantly, you. By the time you and him stand far away enough, Caraxes inspects the pyre before him. He sniffs it and shakes his head. He cranes his neck back, looking at his master. They share a silent understanding.
Daemon has his arm around you as you continue to weep into his chest. He rubs your shoulder, looking down upon you, "would you like to give the command?"
You sniffle and look up to him, "what?"
He turns to Caraxes, who is already stood in attention rather knowingly, "I think he would obey if you commanded."
You shake your head, turning to Caraxes, "I do not want to." You face the pyre, wiping your face, "I've given them their sorrowful beginning. I do not wish to give them their sorrowful end."
Daemon clenches his jaw, "very well." He rubs your shoulders, "when you're ready."
You sigh, leaning into him, "I will never be."
He does not reply. He does, however, squeeze your shoulders.
You turn to him, a line between your brows, "when you're ready, Daemon."
He turns to you just as you look forward. He sniffles and turns to his mount, "Caraxes."
Caraxes rumbles.
The prince takes a deep breath, eyes fixed upon his children, "dracarys."
You gasp at the burn of the flames. The fire is so bright, it's like the sun stops shining for a moment. It's fitting, for that is what it felt to lose them. Warmth cascades across the ground. Caraxes screeches upon finishing his task. Aegon weeps again.
Daemon takes you back to the Keep on dragonback. He is grateful you agreed, though he knows it was more because you felt too weak to walk, rather than the fact you wanted to keep his company.
When he arrives at the pit, Caraxes squawks in recognition of the dragon that seemed to have just arrived, judging by the amount of servants and dragon keepers around.
When you land, hear a voice call for you and you look, not recognizing the voice. Daemon does, just as he recognizes the dragon.
Daemon dismounts and helps you down. You hear your name called out again, "who-"
"Princess!"
Your lips part as you turn to see the young man running towards you. You recognize him solely from his hair, "Laenor?"
Daemon eyes the boy as he bows. He eyes the flowers in his hand. Quickly, his eyes are averted back to you when you begin to weep.
Laenor is mortified. He nearly drops the bouquet as he calls out your name.
"Forgive me," you wipe your face and shake your head, "it is good to see you," you say, breaking into a soft chuckle, "to finally meet you."
Laenor gives a half-hearted smile as he nods, "it is good to meet you, though... I hear you have just come from the pyre."
You sniffle and nod, linking your hands together, "yes... I... we-" you turn to Daemon, "put our children to rest."
Laenor nods slowly, looking between the two of you, "my deepest condolences princess, prince."
You turn to him, finding he was offering you pink flowers.
"Bougainvillea," says the young lord, "I thought to bring you flowers since you wrote of picking them oft."
Your lips wobble and you sob even more.
Daemon clenches his jaw, reaching out to you.
He doesn't reach you though, as soon, you've thrown yourself into Laenor's arms.
The Velaryon yelps in surprise but naturally returns your affections.
"Thank you," you mutter, squeezing him tightly.
He chuckles, matching the intensity of your embrace, "it's nothing really, I saw some on my way. I'm glad you appreciate it."
When you pull away, Laenor catches the withering glare Daemon was shooting his way. He widens his eyes, only because he dares not to roll them, then hands you the flowers.
You gratefully take them, "thank you."
"You're welcome."
"I wrote to you just this morn."
"Did you?" his brow quirks, "you might be glad to know you needn't do anymore."
Your brows furrow.
"I..." he smiles softly, "... am promised to Princess Rhaenyra."
Daemon's brow quirks.
"Oh," you mutter, "oh..." your lips wobble, "d-does that mean you will be staying here?"
Laenor chuckles, "yes, I-"
He grunts when you embrace him again.
Daemon looks away and scoffs.
"That's wonderful!" you sob, "oh, my dear Laenor."
Laenor chuckles as he pulls away, "surely mine own company is not so much a relief from my uncle's."
"Careful, boy," Daemon snaps, eyes narrowing, "I respect you, but that doesn't mean I like you."
Laenor's eyes widen again, "of course, uncle."
"In any case," you wipe your philtrum, "I am glad to have a friend."
Friend... I could be your friend, thinks Daemon.
Laenor nods, "as am I."
With that, Laenor walks off and you turn to the Bougainvilleas in your hands.
"You write to Laenor about flowers?"
You turn to Daemon, seeing him grind his teeth. You nod simply, "upon his request."
He opens his mouth but then shuts it. Would you have obliged himhis request if he ever wrote back to you? He banishes the thought and turns to the ground, "you should plant them."
Your brows quirk at the thought.
"Grow them in your garden," he turns around, walking back to Caraxes.
You watch him caress his dragon. You mutter to yourself, "that's not how that works."
You wait for him to finish doting on his ride. You stare at your flowers as you do so.
When Daemon turns back, he sees you gently caressing the pink buds. He imagines you doing the same to his cheeks and lips; it makes him rapidly shake his head and call your name.
You look up at him.
Daemon's lips are curved into a frown, "I do not keep you prisoner."
Your brows furrow, "what?'
He motions with his head, "go."
You turn to where he motioned, eyes immediately falling on Laenor. You look back at him, "I-"
"He's surely famished from a long ride," he slowly turns back to Caraxes, stroking his scales. The dragon huffs, lying down. "I doubt you've eaten yourself."
You stare at him, brows knitting together.
He turns back to you, "go to him. Be with your friend."
You pull your head back, "I-"
"I wish to clear my head," he pats Caraxes, "I'll do it in the sky."
Of course, what he really wanted was to find solace in your arms, but he tries to convince himself flying will be just as good. After all, that was how he calmed himself before... before you.
"I'll be back before dark," he mutters, walking off to mount Caraxes.
You watch him climb on his dragon's back. You watch him as he commands Caraxes to stand.
You nearly ask him to stay, but your memories convince you to do otherwise.
You gasp softly when Caraxes takes off.
279 notes · View notes
princessanneftw · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
The Princess Royal has spoken for the first time about the suspected horse accident that left her concussed and bruised suggesting she had a lucky escape from serious injury.
Anne’s brush with an emergency last June appears to have taught her a valuable life lesson – that “every day is a bonus”.
The King’s sister revealed she was on the way to see chickens on her Gatcombe Park estate when the accident happened but has no memory of what followed, thought to involve the princess being struck by a horse.
Interviewed by the PA news agency after a whirlwind two-day tour of Cape Town that ended on Wednesday, the King’s sister was asked about her future and whether retirement was an option and replied: “It really isn’t written in, no. It isn’t really an option, no, I don’t think so.
“You’re jolly lucky… if you can continue to be more or less compos mentis and last summer I was very close to not being.
“Take each day as it comes, they say.”
Asked if she remembered anything about the accident she said: “No, nothing.”
When questioned whether the last thing she recalled was walking into a field, Anne said: “No, don’t even remember that.
“I know where I thought I was going and that was to go to the chickens, no, nothing to do with horses.”
She added that seeing the chickens was “my regular visit, I don’t have any idea what I was doing in the field, because I never normally went that way.
“It just reminds you, shows you – you never quite know, something (happens) and you might not recover.”
After the accident an air ambulance and emergency services were dispatched to her Gloucestershire estate and, following medical care at the scene, the princess was transferred to Southmead Hospital in Bristol by road for tests, treatment and observation.
The princess spent five nights in hospital after the accident on June 23 and did not return to public royal duties until almost three weeks later.
Asked about any lasting ill effects, she lightened the mood and joked: “Apparently not, at least I don’t think so. As far as I know nobody else thinks so – they haven’t been honest enough to tell me yet. So far so good.
“You are sharply reminded that every day is a bonus really.”
Anne was due to visit South Africa with her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence but he missed the trip after suffering a suspected torn ligament from an injury he suffered while working on the Gatcombe estate.
87 notes · View notes
aventurineswife · 2 days ago
Text
Since a certain someone ahem @sundaysconsort ahem, made me sad... You guys shall suffer with me 🫶💙
Tumblr media
The dim glow of the Astral Express cast soft shadows on the walls, the gentle hum of its engines the only sound breaking the silence. You sat near the windows, gazing out at the stars that blurred into streaks of light, each one carrying the memory of a distant world.
Sunday stood at the other end of the room, his ethereal figure framed by the soft glow of the halo behind him. His wings flickered slightly, betraying the turbulence within, but his face remained composed, as it always did—distant, yet not unkind.
He hadn’t said much since you’d boarded the train together. His usual perceptiveness was there, but today, it felt like he was watching you more than speaking to you. It made the air feel thick with unspoken words, and you found yourself longing for him to speak, to break the silence.
“Are you… alright?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.
Sunday turned, his eyes soft, distant. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else—something more guarded, as he often did. But instead, he took a few slow steps toward you, his back wings folding gently at his back.
He gazed at you for a long time, and for the first time, you saw the subtle weariness behind his eyes. It wasn’t the guilt or the burden of his past, but something more intimate—like a longing, a quiet, almost imperceptible need.
“What happens when we let our hearts heal,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his voice barely rose above the hum of the train. “When we let our souls breathe?”
You tilted your head, unsure whether he was speaking to you or to some deeper part of himself. There was a sadness there, like he had been contemplating it for far too long, but never quite finding the answer.
His gaze met yours, and it was like he was searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or even a hint of the answer. There was a moment of stillness, and then he stepped closer, his presence drawing you in, though there was no physical force behind it. Just the pull of his quiet, vulnerable self.
“It’s… difficult,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To imagine a world where wounds don’t define us. To believe that we might find peace, when everything around us tells us that it’s out of reach.”
Your heart tightened, unsure of how to respond. You could see the conflict in him—the same conflict that had always been there, hidden beneath his calm demeanor.
His wings shifted, an almost imperceptible flutter, as he looked away for a moment, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. "I have spent my life trying to save others from pain, from suffering. Yet, in doing so, I’ve never once allowed myself the same kindness.”
You could feel the weight of those words, heavy with the years of internal battles he had fought, the ideals he had tried to uphold, only to face the harsh reality that even the most noble of dreams could come at a cost.
His voice, soft and distant again, slipped out. “What happens when we stop hiding from ourselves? When we let go of all the ways we’ve been conditioned to believe we must be?”
A silence hung in the air, filled with the tension between his idealism and the reality of his struggles. His eyes met yours once more, this time not with the distance you were used to, but with an openness that felt as if he were letting you see the parts of him he so carefully shielded from the world.
“Would you stay with me?” he asked, the question raw, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to him.
It was a question laden with all the fears he never let himself speak of—the fear of loss, of failure, of not being enough. But there was also something else, something quieter. Hope.
In that moment, as you looked at him, you realized that perhaps he had never truly asked for help, never truly let anyone in. But now, in the delicate balance between his ideals and his heart, he was opening up to the possibility of healing. A possibility that, for the first time, seemed just within reach.
“What happens when we let our hearts heal, when we let our souls breathe?” he repeated, his voice fragile, as though the answer rested between the two of you.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question settle into your chest. With a quiet resolve, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “I think we learn how to live again,” you whispered.
And for the first time in a long time, you saw the faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.
Tumblr media
99 notes · View notes
k0nanharv3y · 2 days ago
Text
Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?
And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father
Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs
And Tim only saw red
Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!
He pointed aggressively at Bruce
Tim: You!
Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended
Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!
Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively
Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-
For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated
Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!
He defended
Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!
He silenced him and turned to both adults now
Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me
Both adults looked at each other and remained silent
Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!
His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him
And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had
And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them
Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?
Silence was his response
Tim: Fuck you all
He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground
Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit
He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce
Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything
When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor
Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!
He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry
Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!
His voice broke and his crying intensified
Tim: I hope you die
His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks
Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?
His voice sounded so tired
Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!
He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore
He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter
///
Part 1 Jumpscare!!!
That awkward conversation I had!!
///
And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life
I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are
Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices
But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair
There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him
98 notes · View notes
elyxir1zz · 3 days ago
Text
Sevika x Psychic reader
Tumblr media
cw: mentions of age gap, fluff, awkward sevika, non specified reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
so apprently tarot cards are cannon in arcane so this super cute idea came into mind because chapter 8 of between the lines is taking forever
Tumblr media
Sevika leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming idly on the table as she stared at the small trinket shop booth. Gambling had lost its thrill. Sure, it was fun to win, but lately, watching the poor fools cry and beg for their money back just felt pathetic. She needed something different—something interesting.
That’s how she ended up here, in this strange little booth tucked away in the darker corners of the undercity. The place was cluttered with oddities: tapestries depicting eerie murals, shelves lined with glinting trinkets, and an abundance of plants Sevika suspected weren’t real. Plants didn’t thrive in Zaun, not with the toxic air hanging thick and heavy. Still, the shop had a strange charm, though the dim light behind the curtain made it feel more like a stage than anything else.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when the curtain rustled, and you stepped inside. Sevika raised an eyebrow as you smiled and took a seat across from her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe someone mysterious, cloaked in shadow, with piercing eyes that could see right into her soul. But you? You were... expressive. Bright. A bit too cheerful for someone working in a place like this. Your jewelry jingled softly with every movement, catching the low candlelight.
“How are you today?” you asked, lighting a candle with a calm, practiced motion.
Sevika blinked, caught off guard by your friendly demeanor. “Uh... good,” she replied, her voice gruff as always.
You nodded, shuffling a deck of cards with smooth precision. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward for you, though Sevika felt the weight of it. She wasn’t used to situations like this—quiet and intimate. She usually thrived in chaos and noise, not... this.
You set the deck aside and held out your hand. “Give me your palm,” you said softly, your tone steady but inviting.
Sevika hesitated for a second. “Oh—” she began, almost offering her mechanical hand before catching herself. Embarrassed, she extended her flesh-and-blood hand instead. It was calloused and worn, a stark contrast to the softness of your fingers as they cradled it.
“Are you okay?” you asked gently, glancing up from her palm.
“Yeah... jus’ never done this before,” she muttered, shifting slightly in her seat.
You nodded knowingly. You already knew who she was—Silco’s right-hand woman. Her reputation preceded her. But as you examined her palm, you found yourself thinking about everything you knew about Silco and his influence over Zaun. You’d never liked him. You were just a kid when Vander died, but even then, you’d known Silco was bad news. His rise to power had only confirmed it, and every time you pulled cards for Zaun’s future, you seemed to draw the Nine of Swords—a card of despair and suffering.
Your fascination with fortune-telling had started when you were young, and though you’d built a career out of it, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Business was booming in dark times like these. People came to you desperate for guidance, hoping you could offer them protection or answers. But you couldn’t grant those wishes—that was up to the arcane forces that governed this world. Still, you saved up every coin you earned, dreaming of a day when you could leave Zaun behind.
As you studied Sevika’s palm, your fingers traced the lines on her hand. “Do you have a lot of lovers?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.
Sevika flushed, her gaze darting away. “I guess...”
You raised an eyebrow at her response, leaning forward slightly. “You think realistically, with your thoughts straightforward,” you said with a soft giggle. “This also says you’re cautious when it comes to serious relationships.”
You let go of her hand, and Sevika flexed her fingers slightly, the faint blush still lingering on her cheeks. “That’s... that’s fuckin’ creepy,” she chuckled, though there was a note of genuine surprise in her voice.
You smiled and pulled the deck of cards back out, spreading them in a fan-like display across the table. “Pick three,” you said simply.
Sevika nodded, her expression growing more serious. She pointed to three cards, sliding them across the table toward you.
You laid them out in front of her with deliberate care. “This is your past, your present, and your future,” you explained, flipping over the first card.
You flipped over the first card, placing it upright in front of Sevika. The artwork depicted a shadowed figure carrying a heavy bundle of swords.
“The Ten of Swords,” you said softly. “This represents your past—a time of betrayal, pain, and endings. You’ve had to endure things that most people wouldn’t survive. But the card also signifies resilience, Sevika. You’re still here, no matter what’s been thrown at you.”
Sevika’s lips tightened, her mechanical arm resting on the edge of the table as her flesh hand clenched into a fist. “Yeah, sounds about right,” she muttered.
You nodded, not pressing her for more. Instead, you moved to the second card and turned it over.
“The Knight of Pentacles,” you explained, tilting the card slightly so the candlelight caught its detailed image of a knight holding a golden pentacle. “This is your present. It speaks of hard work and determination, but also a sense of duty. You’re someone who gets the job done, no matter what. But...” You hesitated for a moment before continuing, “it also suggests you might be stuck in a routine, going through the motions without thinking about what you truly want.”
Sevika frowned, her expression darkening slightly. “Routine’s all I’ve got,” she said, her voice gruff.
You gave her a small smile, sensing there was more to her story than she let on. “Let’s see your future,” you said, your voice soft but steady. You flipped the final card.
The room seemed to grow quieter as you revealed the image of a towering spire struck by lightning.
“The Tower,” you said, your tone more serious now. “This card represents sudden change, upheaval, and destruction. It’s not an easy card to face, Sevika. It means that something in your life—something foundational—is going to come crashing down. But...” You glanced up, meeting her eyes. “It’s also a chance for rebirth. Sometimes, we have to lose everything to figure out who we really are.”
Sevika stared at the card, her jaw tightening. “So you’re tellin’ me everything’s about to go to shit?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm, but there was an edge of unease beneath it.
“Not necessarily,” you said gently. “The Tower isn’t just about destruction—it’s about clearing away what doesn’t serve you anymore. It’s painful, yes, but it’s also an opportunity to rebuild, to start over with something stronger.”
Sevika leaned back in her chair, her gaze lingering on the card. For the first time since she’d walked into the booth, she looked genuinely unsettled.
“You don’t strike me as someone who’s afraid of change,” you added, trying to ease the tension.
She smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Depends on the change,” she muttered.
You gathered the cards and shuffled them back into the deck. “The future isn’t set in stone,” you reminded her. “The cards show possibilities, not guarantees. What you do next is up to you.”
Sevika nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful as she stood up. “Thanks,” she said gruffly, slipping a few coins onto the table before turning to leave.
As she pushed through the curtain, you watched her go, wondering what choices she’d make in the days to come. You couldn’t shake the feeling that her Tower moment was approaching fast, and it wasn’t going to be an easy fall.
64 notes · View notes
itsnesss · 16 hours ago
Note
hi! i read your other works and i LOVE your junho stories! could you write one where reader comes back from the games (maybe everyone voted to leave) and junho has been trying to find them? i love angst but please with a happy ending 🙏🏽
𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader
Tumblr media
summary | the request
warnings | angst, emotional turmoil, implied trauma, mentions of running away, themes of guilt and forgiveness, hurt/comfort, fluff ending
word count | 2.1 k
author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You stand in front of your apartment door, breathing heavily. The key trembles slightly between your fingers, and a gust of cold air runs through your body. You've been out longer than you wanted, though the truth is, you still don’t know what to say to him. You don’t know if the words you’ve prepared will be enough. All you have is fear, uncertainty, and a growing sense that you can’t delay this moment any longer.
With one last deep breath, you turn the key and open the door. The familiar smell of the place envelops you, but there’s something different. Something you hadn’t noticed before. A trace of anxiety seems to linger in every corner. The silence of the place surrounds you, and in that instant, everything feels heavier. And there he is. Asleep on the couch. His jacket is wrinkled, his face tired, his hair disheveled, but still as beautiful as ever.
You let out a sigh as you take in the scene. He’s been waiting for you. He’s been looking for you relentlessly. For days, he’s been following your trail, calling your phone, sending messages. But you never answered. You never told him anything. You had left, but you couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t know what had really happened.
You approach slowly, trying not to make a sound. Each step is a small reminder of what you’ve lived through. You sit next to him on the couch, and for a second, you just watch him, his calm breathing and relaxed face. You’d like to think that, in some way, all of this is real, but you know it isn’t. The shadows of what you’ve been through follow you, and the scars of everything you’ve endured are still too fresh.
The sound of your breathing is the only thing you can hear, and that sound seems to make the outside world fade away. The world you once believed in, where everything seemed simple. But now, nothing is as it seems. Everything has changed. Everything inside you has changed.
"Junho..." you whisper softly, not wanting to wake him. But you do. He opens his eyes slowly, confused by the change in the air. His gaze is slightly clouded with sleep, but when he sees you, something in him ignites. Concern begins to settle into his face, displacing the exhaustion.
"Are you... are you okay?" His voice, though raspy, is filled with worry. He immediately sits up, taking your hands in his. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid to let you go, as if he fears you might disappear again.
Your eyes drift to the floor for a moment, unable to meet his. It hurts so much to see him like this. You’ve missed him, but the fear of what he might think if he knew the truth about what you experienced in that cursed game is greater than anything else. You don’t want to see him suffer because of you. You can’t.
"I’m sorry..." The anguish is palpable in your tone, but you don’t want to tell him the truth. Not immediately. Not now. The last thing you want is to drag him into your torment.
"I was looking for you everywhere. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I thought... I thought something terrible had happened," he says, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. The worry shines in his eyes. His breathing is uneven, and you realize how much he’s suffered during these days without hearing from you.
The guilt consumes you. Leaving him, making him suffer while you... you were living through an endless nightmare. But the worst part is that you can’t tell him.
"I had... I had some things to take care of," you reply, trying to make your voice sound steady, though inside you’re falling apart. "I didn’t mean to worry you."
A bitter laugh escapes your mouth, as if those words could justify everything you’ve done. He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe what you’ve just said.
"But I was so scared... why didn’t you tell me anything?" His voice trembles with restrained emotion, a small thread of anguish in his tone. "I looked for you everywhere, sent messages, called you, but... nothing. I didn’t know if I should come find you, if I should keep waiting, or if something terrible had happened—"
You feel like you’re trapped, trapped in a deep pit you don’t know how to climb out of. The truth weighs on you, consumes you, but you can’t tell him.
"I... I’m sorry," you say, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Your hands tremble as they touch his, but somehow, the warmth of his touch comforts you. It’s not enough. It isn’t. But for a second, you feel safe.
Junho stays silent for a moment, watching you. You don’t know what’s going through his mind, but you can see how deeply every word affects him. His face is marked by a mix of frustration, desperation, and pain. But instead of pulling away, he moves even closer, his fingers gently brushing your face. The softness of his touch burns you, and your eyes fill with tears. You sink a little further into that pit. But now, it’s different. You’re not alone anymore.
"Don’t leave me," he whispers, his voice deep, laden with emotion. "No matter what you’ve done, I don’t want to lose you."
And those words pierce your heart like an arrow. Those words are the purest truth you’ve ever heard. But you still feel the weight of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lived through. Of what you’ll never be able to tell him.
"You can’t..." you murmur, your eyes fixed on the floor. "I don’t deserve to be near you..."
Junho takes a step closer to you, his forehead touching yours, the warmth of his body almost merging with yours. He makes you feel a little lighter, as if, for a moment, everything is okay.
"Don’t talk like that," he says softly, but his eyes are filled with pain. "What happened? Why are you so tired? What have you been doing?"
Your eyes fill with tears. In your heart, you know you can never tell him everything that happened. But you also don’t want him to keep suffering because of your absence. Because of what wasn’t. Because of everything you couldn’t avoid.
"It was just... just a rough time, Junho. I don’t want to talk about it now," you say, trembling slightly. You feel his breath near yours, his warmth surrounding you. But inside, you feel broken. What will you tell him? How do you explain everything that happened?
He takes a deep breath, but instead of pressing you, he simply hugs you. His body envelops yours, and he holds you tightly, as if he wants to merge with you, as if he can’t bear the thought of you leaving without a trace. The hug becomes a refuge, a safe place where words don’t matter, where all that’s left is the moment.
"What hurts me the most isn’t not knowing what you did, but how I felt when I thought I’d lost you," he says, his voice breaking. "All I want is for you to be here, with me."
The sound of his voice, filled with such pure emotion, makes you feel something you hadn’t felt in days: peace. Peace amidst chaos.
"I’m here, Junho," you finally say, looking up at him. "I don’t know what else to do, but I want you to forgive me."
He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes so soft they seem to hold everything he feels for you. And in that moment, you know. You don’t need to tell him anything else. It doesn’t matter what happened, what you lived through, what you endured. What matters is what you both have now. And that’s enough.
"I forgive you," he says softly, before moving even closer. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, full of promises. He holds you as if he’s grateful to have you back, and you do the same, giving him everything you have in that moment.
Love isn’t always easy. It’s not always what we expect. But here, in this small corner of his apartment, under the dim light of the lamps, you know that together, you can face whatever comes.
"Promise me we’ll never be apart again," he murmurs against your lips, smiling softly.
"Promise," you reply, letting the tears fall freely now, unafraid.
And in that instant, all the pain, all the suffering, disappears. It’s just you, Junho, and the warmth of his embrace that makes you feel safe again.
Tumblr media
72 notes · View notes
cei1ne · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way
დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.
༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader
☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader
**•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k
‧͙⁺˚*・A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!
Tumblr media
Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader
1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.
2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”
3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.
4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”
5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”
6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.
7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”
8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.
9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”
10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”
Got it! Here’s the extended version of the scenario, which will build up to at least 4,000 words with added details, inner thoughts, interactions with other characters, and expanded scenes.
Tumblr media
Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)
The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.
It was nothing new. This was your normal.
“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”
You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”
“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”
“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.
She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.
Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.
He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.
_________________________________
The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.
But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.
“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.
“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.
But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.
“Y/N—”
“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.
Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.
And then your knees buckled.
_________________________________
“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”
Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.
“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.
“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”
Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.
“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”
“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.
But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.
“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”
_________________________________
Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.
“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.
“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”
You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.
“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.
When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.
“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.
“Bakugou, I don’t need—”
“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”
You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.
________________________________
When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.
“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.
“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.
The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.
“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.
You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.
Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
_________________________________
Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.
“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.
“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”
You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.
The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.
_________________________________
The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.
“Too bad,” he replied curtly.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”
He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.
“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”
You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.
“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”
The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.
“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”
_________________________________
Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.
“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.
“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”
“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”
“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.
Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”
“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.
After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.
“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.
“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.
You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”
“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.
_________________________________
That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.
“You’re not weak, Y/N.”
It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.
But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.
You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.
_________________________________
When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.
Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.
“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”
You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”
You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.
“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.
“Maybe,” he shot back.
_________________________________
Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.
And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.
One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.
“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.
“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.
The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.
“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.
You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.
“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.
He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.
96 notes · View notes
aonemanarmy · 2 days ago
Text
The battle for control of Sephiroth's mind was fierce and not helped by the insanity that plagued his already broken thoughts. It was a struggle just to control his natural violent impulses, all of which goaded him to end this farce and to reach out and snap the woman's neck. The task would've been far too easy for him and yet, he still found that there was a part of himself that was compelled by the lies that she wove and his curiosity couldn't so easily be dismissed.
It was little more than an annoyance to Jenova, albeit one that she could've done without. Sephiroth may have recently rebelled against the full extent of her control, but she was confident she could seize it back were she given the proper opportunity. All she had to do was wait, but the presence of Lucrecia had proven to be a thorn in her side, one which she hadn't intended to have to deal with in the first place. But she knew that try as Lucrecia might the scientist was far too late and that her efforts were futile since Sephiroth's mistrust and hatred ran too deeply to ever be swayed.
The madman might've been little more than a pawn to Jenova, but he was still a highly valuable one and as such she didn't like Lucrecia touching what she considered rightfully hers. It was why when the woman dared to reach out and actually touch Sephiroth that Jenova mentally lashed out at the woman, the venom in the creature's voice so tangible that one could've easily mistaken it for being more than a psychic manifestation.
'It is too late for you to play at being a mother to him.'
As Lucrecia's touch caused a reaction in Jenova, so too did it in Sephiroth. The woman's touch instinctively had the madman step back as if struck, Sephiroth's natural aversion to all touch having him perceive any form of contact as a potential threat.
Long ago Sephiroth had learned that touch led to pain and further suffering, so he avoided it at all costs. The only times he had been able to tolerate it were in the midst of combat or when he'd been expecting the contact, but even then he had never truly been comfortable with it. In spite of his madness he still reacted the same and gave Lucrecia the look of a cornered animal, his whole body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
“Nobody touches me.” Sephiroth hissed, eyes blazing and looking very much like a snake who had its' tail trod upon.
At the remark Jenova gloated in the woman's mind, knowing that each fumble Lucrecia made the further she drove Sephiroth from her. The scientist truly had no idea how damaged her 'child' was and how that had led to his downfall in the first place, which was yet another thing the woman wasn't privy to. She truly was a total stranger to him and Jenova could hardly fathom what Lucrecia thought she could accomplish now.
'Fool woman, your every move serves only to damage him further.'
Somehow, in the midst of his escalating paranoia and dwindling self-control Sephiroth was able to make out Lucrecia's words. On the surface they rang hollow, but deep down beneath the madness and beneath all the pain and misery something stirred in him at the words – something he'd thought long dead.
“I want all of them to die,” he let out a bitter laugh, as he regained his composure and stood tall once more. “Can you grant me that?”
Distraught, Vincent could only watch as Lucrecia fought Jenova in her head. It felt like the same nightmare playing in front of him. The only difference was there really wasn’t anything he could do to spare Lucrecia from Jenova. His words had gone unheeded, and while she fought the alien, Vincent tried to maintain whatever was going on with Sephiroth as well. He could tell Sephiroth’s patience was running thin, but he also detected that hopeful curiosity. It was now or never. But it was all up to Lucrecia, now.
Try as she might, Lucrecia couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. “I was wrong… horribly wrong,” The sorrow-filled woman shuddered at Jenova’s words, feeling every jab like a dagger to the heart. “I didn’t know that I would… I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted him to be happy, and be a part of the powerful people of Cetra. But I…” Vincent glared, having never heard Lucrecia’s confession in such a manner, but knowing it all to be true. He had witnessed everything and how she had spurned his warning. Nevertheless, he wasn’t guiltless either. There within the cave stood two individuals who could have spared Sephiroth’s life—the only ones who had some humanity, knowing right from wrong—Lucrecia and Vincent. Hojo was beyond deranged, and any bit of humanity in him was reserved for himself and no one else. Sephiroth had every right to not trust either of them. And at this rate, Vincent knew Lucrecia’s cries were falling on deaf ears. As Lucrecia began to explain the past to Sephiroth, Vincent watched Sephiroth’s expression with keen interest, marking anything he said or did. Though Sephiroth gave little visual queues, Vincent knew the silver-head’s mind was reeling. “I tried, Sephiroth… I truly did,” Lucrecia practically begged, not knowing how else to tell Sephiroth the dire situation that had forced her from him. “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near you.” She tensed her fists and looked away, a mixture of frustration and agony written all over her face and in her voice. When Sephiroth made mention of ending his life, her eyes widened and she turned looked up at Sephiroth, her eyes filled with sympathy and sorrow. He desired death… her beautiful son… It tore her heart to pieces. Tears streamed down her face. “Sephiroth…” Her motherly instincts could no longer be contained, and she pulled herself from Vincent’s grip, leaving him dumb-founded and worried for her safety. Her child was suffering. He had been suffering for too long. And even if every logic told her it was far too late, she didn’t care. She stopped just within arms reach of Sephiroth and looked up at her son, seeing no one but him. “…I knew there was no way to spare you, Sephiroth. Not only had they kept you out of my reach, but the Jenova cells—they…” She choked back as she continued to answer Sephiroth. “They wouldn’t allow you to die, and neither would they let me. But how could I kill an innocent child? I thought perhaps I would run away with you, but they took you from me.” She looked away from Sephiroth, trying to calm herself and restrain herself from hugging him. “Sephiroth…” She slowly turned her eyes up to him again, tenderness in her glittering pair of hazel colors. For several moments, she simply looked at him, admiring him with a motherly interest. Slowly, her soft hand reached up and caressed Sephiroth’s face, her touch warm and tender. “…You’ve suffered enough because of me.” Vincent watched intensely, torn between pulling her from Sephiroth and allowing her the moment she had dreamed of. What terrified him the most was the shift in her voice. There was a strange sense of resolve; the fear, the sorrow… it had melted away the moment she had chosen to step forward. “Lucrecia…?” “…What do you wish for the most, Sephiroth?” Lucrecia continued to speak. “Whatever I can do to ease your pain… I’m here for you.” The implications made Vincent’s heart stop. “The hell are you saying?” But he knew what she meant.
127 notes · View notes
ninadove · 20 hours ago
Text
And because I now have fancy new tags to put to good use…
Thoughts on Miraculous S6 E2: The Illustrhater 🎨
Please note that this is a salt-free space. I do not want to see even a grain of salt in my notes. You will be blocked on sight. Cool? Cool. (And even if it’s not cool with you… well… blocked on sight… so…)
First things first: the new animation style is actually really cute and works really well in context! Chat in particular looks great, contrary to what that first promotional poster made us fear. Adrien as a civilian might be the one who suffered most, probably because of the hairstyle change… It will need some getting used to, but overall, I like what I’ve seen so far. So much love and care was put into the smallest details, like the sparkles on Mari’s tights!
Special mention:
Tumblr media
SHE HAS SPIKES????? LITTLE HAIR SPIKES????? IN HER HAIR????? AND DRAGON SCALES????? AND SLIT PUPILS????? AND HER SUIT LAYS EVEN MORE INTO THE ASYMETRIC VIBE, HIGHLIGHTING HOW MUCH INDEPENDENCE SHE GAINED AND HOW COMFORTABLE SHE IS WITHOUT THE PRESSURE OF BEING PERFECT ALL THE TIME????? AND SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY????? LIKE SHE’S HAVING SO MUCH FUN????? LIKE SOMEONE IN HER LIFE HAS BEEN A GOOD INFLUENCE MAYBE????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺
… Apologies, I seem to have lost the plot for a minute. Where was I?
Tumblr media
Oh, yeah. If one thing is clear from this first look at S6, it’s that Marinette’s secrets will catch up to her at some point. The writers lay it on thick in both Alyanette scenes and with the “Even as superheroes, they share everything” DJWiFi/Love Square contrast! It’s not exactly a surprise, but with how many people claimed we would never hear a single word about the Agreste plotline again, I feel somewhat… vindicated.
Tumblr media
Marinette not knowing how to act around Adrien actually makes a lot of sense to me? She’s had to be his rock through his grieving process, meaning she has functionally not left Ladybug Mode since the end of S5. Of course when she gets a chance to chill and actually do regular couple things, she gets terribly scared! Seeing her trying to imitate other couples was so funny and cute… Did you know I love her… And Adrien was such a wet cold lost kitten through it all… Did you know I love him…
That being said, this felt like an Alyanette episode first and an OT4 episode second. I loved seeing these four work as a group again! Nino was simply too precious and I loved Adrinette “““covering up””” for Renapace. Rena grabbed Ladybug’s hand for their little manoeuvre like it was second nature to her, which is very reminiscent of Bumbleby from RWBY, aka the Sapphic Battle Couple!
Tumblr media
(And that Chekov’s gun… I’m sure we’ve all seen Chekov’s gun…… We shall not mention it yet……… It’s there and we know where it’s headed…………)
But of course. Of course. The character who shone the brightest in this episode? Was Lila.
It’s clear from the get-go how different she is from Monarch!!! Smarter, more manipulative, but perhaps also… more compassionate, in a twisted way…? She gives her victims the illusion of choice (“Only if you agree, of course” // “And what shall I call you?”), making herself small when she first approaches them only to reveal her full size when the magic takes over.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
AND YET it seems to me she must know pain intimately to leverage it so well… Really makes you ponder the Manon theory, especially when comparing Illustrhater and Puppeteer’s costumes…
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Another key difference with Gabriel is that she is on the field, constantly observing and taking notes, which is extremely scary but also exposes her to more risks. I’m very curious to learn more about this chameleon magic of hers and what she means by “you’ll know nothing about me, about us, bout them”… She seems to think of herself as the center of a web, a spider rather than a butterfly, if you will!
Tumblr media
(Also, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the Diabolo menthe reference was intentional!)
56 notes · View notes
haveihitanerve · 2 days ago
Text
youtube
I discovered a glorious snippet of a video of Tom being absolutely enraged, Luke being a little shit, Sam wanting to kill himself, and AJ losing it, and decided I absolutely must share, but me being me also has thoughts- so here you are
“Was yours send her down? The way your eyes glint- very weird” Tom is scared and yet intrigued
Sams miming of a woman falling down a trap door, coupled with Luke’s maniacal evil laugh and Tom’s little smile of delight- perfection
“For such a heinous crime.” oh no! What did she do??? “She laughed at me.” …. oh.. no…?
The cackler in the audience has my heart
“Okay.” Oh no Sam- oh no- “What do you mean “okay”?” I don't like that tone of voice- Sam apologize- apologize now sam-
“I just.. I heard what you said. Affirmative.” Sam😭 sam please-
“I saw you *increases in pitch because he knows it’ll break Sam* raise your eyebrows.” little shit i love him :P
Sam: *predictably, breaks*
“What are you doing laughing at me?!?!” Luke you are evil- also Tom is like dancing with delight, he is thoroughly enjoying this. 
“Another has been terminated your- my lord.” AJ!!! You had ONE job!!! 😭
Oh Luke’s grin is evil
Aj looking away- “if i cant see him he cant see me” -captions: [uh oh]
The fear in AJ’s eyes, while Luke just waits- content to let him suffer and squirm XD
“What did you just say?” The voice again, trying to break him- Luke please have mercy-
Tom leaned forward, arm propped on one knee, thoroughly still enjoying watching the others suffer lol
“I'm sorry uh sometimes my accent wavers into- different… words.” AJ you sweet precious summer child-
Captions: [pretty much AJ’s life story]
“I said: “he's been terminated. Yo-my lord-” which is- means where i'm from-” Luke doesn't even give him a chance to finish 😭
Tom leaping up, he is ready to join the fun XD
Tom speaking slowly and carefully so he doesn't mess up lmaooo
Staring at each other in silence… waiting for one to break….
“Why are you staring at me?” ohhhh has luke got him? “Im just being attentive to you, my lord.” oh Tom is quick wit it!
“I like that… for now.” Oooooh Luke cant let anything slide lol
“Seems quite indecisesive of you my lord.” Trying to cover it up- no tom- nooooo
“It seems hhwwatttt?” Luke is taking his time, this is glorious
“Quite indecisives of you my lord.” “Quite indecises?” LMAO POOR TOM
They cant stop grinning at each other its so beautiful-
“Its a shame because i was hoping to turn the tables, but clearly i fucked it.” resigned and steps forward to die- brilliant
AJ and Sam laughing in the background because haha you thought you were better than us Tom, but we all fall mercy eventually
The way AJ and Tom are just casually standing in the back, slowly bobbing side to side because they cant sit still so why would they be able to stand still lol its so cute
Sam has just decided to dedicate to the bit and fuck everything up- icon
Oh my gods plot twist-?!?!?!?!?
*actually gasped aloud wow* 
“You look so ghostly pale brother.” “that's because i am a ghost.” WHAAAAAAAT
“Send me down.” *attempts to pull the lever* “...im a ghost.” 
Ok now we get to the aforementioned portion where everyone wants to die and Tom loses it: prepare yourselves-
“Opera.” Tom’s face- just a casual huff of breath of “oh gods no please”
The way AJ is grinning at Luke like ��no. no no, babes don't do it- please” 
Luke’s stance 😭 hes so contemplating this noo but yessss
Sam: fuck it lets do it!
No sam, no no no, but yesssss
Both Tom and AJ already admitting defeat with a disappointed head in the hands pose XD
Luke casually noticing and laughing and pointing at Tom lmaooo
“We said we were gonna do a good show.” Tom sounds ready to end it all- XD
Tom and AJ communicating across stage like please no- Tom glances at Sam, but he’s already attempting to get into headspace so he doesn't lose it XD
Tom and AJ: *shrug at each other in outrage when Luke does, in fact, go with it*
Sam: *staring at the floor like he's preparing for war*
Luke: barn dance? BARN DANCE. Tom: FOR FUCKS SAKE! LMAOOOO
“Its just a word to start us off.” pretending innocence
“Its two words, you prick.” Tom has never gotten this british before- iconic XD
Luke is thoroughly enjoying everything happening
“You're gonna be in this fucking scene.” Now he has to make it official- fuck they’re such assholes to each other its glorious XD
Tom: I KNOWWW!!! OTHERWISE I WOULDN'T MIND
Poor tom 😭🤣
AJ clapping for Tom to stand up while actively trying to make himself as heavy as possible so he doesn't have to stand and join
Luke: *not letting it slide and nudging his arm to try and get him to go do it*
Hey, Sam’s not bad! He’s not singing opera, but its very pretty lol
While dissociating of course
AJ joining and them harmonizing- chefs kiss 😭
Also Luke casually running to hide in the wings so nobody ropes him in- COWARD
AJ: *starts and immediately cuts off when he realizes Sam has not continued. traitor XD*
Tom: WEEELLLLL AJ: *fights demons not to laugh- entire face scrunching as his body twitches- he did not see that coming*
“OH welcome to the barn DAaAAaaNCE!!” ok AJ’s broken, Luke has folded completely and Tom is just half singing half yelling atp- completely done with everything and everyone XD
Captions: [half singing and half cracking]
[not sure what this is actually]
Both Aj and Sam are gone LMAOOO
Captions: [no longer singing just cracking] im GLAaaAAD you've combined these two genres together!!! (We know you are Tom, we know XD)
“And i do not regret any of my choices in life!!” I love how actually usually AJ is the one who can and does sing, but because they all want him to suffer, they've made Tom do it instead this time, and AJ just does not lol
“My deaaRRR, Molly PeEEEELL” yes AJ!!! Hit those notes! Damn. my jaw actually dropped, that's some beautiful singing right there- high and clean, very nice. 
Casually they're just regularly singing now, but its very good and it rhymes -so well done👏10/10 would attend a concert
“Left foot forward!” good work Tom???? 😭????
Aj casually trying to take more steps??? AJ he literally said “left foot forward.” come on! XD
Luke loosing it behind the curtain -i really thought atp one of them would have forced him to join…
Luke fully loosing it XD
“Right! Foot- uh- backwaraaaaads!” sometimes i forget theyre making stuff up on the spot and then he pulls shi like this XD
Also- is he making them do the splits? Evil tom. E v i l 
AJ and Sam holding hands 😭 cuties
Sam flipping Tom off 😭XD he is making them do the splits!
Aj massaging Tom’s shoulders afterwards to like calm him down 😭 they're so cute i can’t-
So anyway this was basically Luke being a little shit and annoying everyone, while Tom tried his best to torture the other two because he was so done with everything, AJ split between dying of laughter, slaying at singing, and being resigned and disappointed(a rare sight, usually everyone is disappointed with him, not him with them) and Sam disassociating and being a ghost and also questioning why he is even friends with any of them anymore XD
So i hope you enjoyed this as much as I did and yeah :) 
@dawn-speckled @snek-of-eden
62 notes · View notes