#just a special little place in someone's heart no matter how small

[lanternfeather]

protective, caring, domestic gf sevika x reader headcanons <3333

• when the two of you settle in for bed, she will always let you put your cold feet on her legs or put your cold hands on her stomach. in fact she encourages it, she just wants you to be warm and cozy.

• no matter how tired she is or how tempting it is to just get in bed with you, she will always be the one to make sure everything is all set for the night- kitchen cleaned up, all the doors are locked, the thermostat is at the right temperature, your work bag is ready for tomorrow.

• she doesn’t do words of affirmation/love that often, but she LIVES for acts of service, gift giving, physical touch. you guys are cuddling on the couch as soon as she gets home. she’s brought you a little treat or some flowers. she’s constantly hugging you and touching you while you make dinner. on her way home she picked up a piece of clothing or jewelry that she thought would look nice on you. she is happy to wash the dishes and fold the laundry as you cook.

• sometimes she gets home really late or even has to be away overnight and it’s torture for both of you. alone in your apartment, every little noise sets you on edge, and you’ve found it’s become next to impossible to fall asleep without being tucked safely in her arms. she is ITCHING to get home because she knows all of this, she knows you need her, and she needs you too to keep her sane and anchored. you are each other’s safe place.

• she works hard for you to have a place in a quiet, safe area of town. she doesn’t have the eye for decoration that you do, she’s much more minimalist, but she adores the small, special decorations you put up to turn the plain apartment into a haven for the both of you.

• if she’s feeling particularly mushy, she’ll slip a note into your lunch bag for you to see at work. it may be just a heart, or a smiley face, or “i love you”, but it means the world to you.

• neither of you own real pajamas because you sleep naked next to each other every night. she curls you up so close to her, wrapping her arms around you and you bury your face in her chest. you used to never be able to sleep if you shared a bed with someone- all their small noises and movements would keep you awake- but she is solid, constant, and comforting. she takes great pride in being your big teddy bear.

[xo100]

hii i have this idea. yn and lando dont know each other yet. yn is driving back from work crashes into lando and his mclaren (small accident nothing big) and lando is mad until he sees her and love at first sight haha and offers to help her with insurance and tries to get her number and shes just confused and doesnt know who he is.

Thank youu in advance.

A Minor Collision, A Major Connection - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2796

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The Friday afternoon sky was draped in golden hues as Y/N tiredly made her way back home after a long, grueling day at work. The office had been a madhouse—endless meetings, deadlines creeping up, and not enough coffee to power through it all. The only thing keeping her going was the thought of collapsing onto her couch and losing herself in a Netflix binge.

Her car, a reliable little sedan, buzzed softly as she cruised down the quiet city streets. She sighed, tuning out the low hum of traffic around her. It was just another day, nothing special. That is, until—

BANG!

Y/N’s heart lurched as her car jerked to the side. She slammed on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her mind raced through what just happened. Did she hit something? Or worse… someone?

Her pulse spiked as she fumbled to unbuckle her seatbelt and threw open the door. But when she stepped out to inspect the damage, the first thing she saw wasn’t a crumpled bumper or a mangled fender. No, it was a sleek, dark blue sports car, glossy and absurdly out of place against the backdrop of regular vehicles. Her little sedan had smacked into the rear of it.

“Great,” she muttered, pushing a hand through her hair. Her car had bumped into what was probably one of the most expensive cars in the city, if not the country.

And standing beside it, inspecting the minor damage with a furrowed brow and an expression that was a blend of frustration and disbelief, was none other than Lando Norris. Though Y/N had no clue who he was. To her, he was just some annoyed guy standing next to his ruined car.

“What were you even doing?!” the man exclaimed, turning towards her with his arms outstretched in exasperation. His voice held a British lilt, his tone more incredulous than angry.

Y/N froze. “I—I didn’t see you! You came out of nowhere!”

“Out of nowhere?” he echoed, shaking his head as he knelt to inspect his McLaren’s bumper. There was a tiny dent, barely noticeable, but to him, it was as if the whole car had been wrecked. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself.

Y/N bit her lip, anxiety creeping up her spine. Her mind was a mess—how much was this going to cost her? Could insurance even cover damages on a car that expensive? This whole situation was unreal.

But then something strange happened.

The man, still crouched by the car, lifted his head to look at her properly for the first time. His eyes met hers, and his expression softened. He blinked, standing slowly as if he was trying to process something. His initial frustration seemed to melt away, replaced by a bemused sort of interest.

“Uh… Are you okay?” he asked, his tone much gentler now, his earlier irritation completely gone.

Y/N blinked. Wasn’t he supposed to be mad at her? She had just hit his expensive car, after all. Why was he suddenly acting so… concerned?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m just… sorry about your car.”

Lando, however, waved her apology away like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about the car. It’s really not that bad.”

Y/N gave him a skeptical look. “Really? Because it looks like I did a number on it.”

He glanced back at the car, then at her, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, well, it’s just a car. What matters is that you’re alright.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. This guy was acting way too nice for someone whose luxury car had just been rear-ended. She couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about his sudden shift in mood.

“Okay…” she trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. “But still, we should probably exchange insurance info. I don’t know how much this is going to cost to fix.”

Lando’s expression brightened at the mention of exchanging information, and for a split second, Y/N swore she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, insurance,” he replied, reaching for his phone, “but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I can handle it on my own. Maybe we can just forget about it? I could… help you out.”

Y/N’s confusion deepened. Help her out? Wasn’t it her fault in the first place? Why was he acting like this was no big deal? And why was he looking at her like that, like he was trying to keep her there longer than necessary?

Lando shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t mean to sound weird, but… do you, uh, live around here?”

“Why?” Y/N asked cautiously, narrowing her eyes at him.

Lando chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. He suddenly felt like a nervous schoolboy, which was ridiculous because he was Lando Norris, F1 driver and world-class athlete, yet here he was fumbling over his words.

“Well, I just thought maybe we could grab a coffee or something. You know, after we sort all this out.”

Y/N blinked at him, utterly bewildered. “Wait. You want to get coffee? With me? After I just hit your car?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Why not? Accidents happen. And… I guess I think you’re kind of cute.”

Her eyes widened. Was this guy for real? She’d just crashed into his sports car and now he was trying to flirt with her?

“Uh… I don’t even know your name,” she said slowly, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

He grinned, sticking out his hand. “I’m Lando. Lando Norris.”

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it hesitantly. “Y/N. And, um… nice to meet you?”

Lando’s smile widened, his earlier frustration completely forgotten as he focused entirely on her. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, about that coffee…”

“I’m sorry, are you seriously asking me out right now?” she asked, a slight laugh escaping her lips. “After I hit your car?”

Lando shrugged again, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a pretty forgiving guy.”

Y/N shook her head, still half-expecting this whole thing to be some sort of bizarre dream. “Okay, but… you didn’t even get my insurance information yet. Isn’t that why we’re still standing here?”

Lando waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said, it’s really no big deal. I’ll take care of it. Just… let me get your number, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Now she was really suspicious. “My number?”

He grinned sheepishly. “For the insurance, of course.”

Y/N stared at him, trying to figure out if he was messing with her or if he was actually being serious. She wasn’t sure what was stranger—the fact that he was acting like the accident was nothing or the fact that he seemed more interested in getting her number than fixing his expensive car.

But there was something about him, something oddly charming, even though the whole situation was insane. Maybe it was his easygoing nature or the way he didn’t seem to care about the damage at all. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at her, like she was the most interesting person he’d met all day.

With a sigh, she reached for her phone. “Fine. But I’m giving you my number strictly for insurance purposes.”

Lando’s grin grew wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Strictly insurance purposes. Got it.”

As she handed him her number, Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief. What had started as a minor accident was quickly turning into the weirdest encounter of her life.

“Alright,” she said, putting her phone away, “I’ve gotta go. But, um, thanks for not being too mad about the car.”

Lando chuckled, leaning casually against his McLaren. “Like I said, it’s just a car. But you… well, you’re worth more than any car.”

Y/N stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be weirded out by the line. “Uh, okay. Well… take care.”

As she got back into her car, Lando watched her with a grin still on his face. Maybe the accident wasn’t so bad after all. After all, he’d managed to meet someone who had caught his attention in a way no one else had.

And as Y/N drove away, still shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, she couldn’t help but wonder just what she’d gotten herself into.

-

The weekend had finally arrived, and despite the awkward car crash, Y/N had managed to put it out of her mind. She wasn’t expecting to hear from Lando again. After all, rich guys like him probably had people to take care of things like insurance claims. She figured she’d given him her number for nothing more than a courtesy exchange.

That was, until her phone buzzed the next morning.

She glanced at the screen, eyebrows shooting up at the unknown number. Hesitating for a second, she finally opened the message.

Lando: Hey, it’s Lando. The guy whose car you hit? Not sure if you remember me, but I’ve got some paperwork for insurance and stuff. Thought we could meet up and go over it?

Y/N rolled her eyes, half-amused. It was still weird to her that someone so nonchalant about the accident was bothering to text her. She tapped out a quick response.

Y/N: Yeah, I remember. Where and when?

He replied almost immediately.

Lando: How about that coffee I mentioned? There’s a café in the city, small, chill. We can talk there?

Coffee again? He really wasn’t subtle. Y/N bit her lip, debating. She didn’t have anything to do that afternoon anyway, and she supposed she owed him at least a meeting about the insurance.

So, reluctantly, she agreed.

-

The café Lando had suggested was tucked away on a quiet street corner, its large windows letting in the warm afternoon sun. Y/N pushed open the door, immediately greeted by the rich scent of roasted coffee beans. She scanned the room, expecting Lando to be hidden away somewhere.

Instead, she saw him immediately.

Sitting casually at a table near the window, dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, he waved when he saw her. His face lit up with a boyish grin that made him seem far less intimidating than the guy she’d crashed into just days before.

“Hey,” he greeted as she approached, standing to pull out a chair for her. “You made it.”

“Yeah, well, I figured we should get this insurance stuff sorted,” she replied, sitting down. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on her just a bit longer than necessary.

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, the insurance thing…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “You did bring the paperwork, right? That’s why we’re here?”

He looked slightly sheepish, then reached into his bag and pulled out a few documents. “Of course. Got everything right here.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. “Okay, good. Let’s get it over with.”

Lando handed her the papers, but as she scanned them, he leaned back in his chair, watching her with an amused expression. He wasn’t saying anything, but Y/N could practically feel his eyes on her.

Finally, she looked up. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just… you’re very focused. Kind of cute.”

Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? This is the second time you’ve done that.”

Lando shrugged, his grin widening. “Can’t help it. You kind of walked into my life by crashing into my car. Feels like fate, doesn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Or just bad driving.”

“Or that,” he agreed with a laugh.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing attitude. There was something about him that made it hard to stay annoyed. He had this infectious charm, the kind that made you forget about everything else. She didn’t know much about him, other than his name and the fact that he clearly had a lot of money, but there was something undeniably likable about him.

Still, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“So, Lando,” she began, setting the papers down, “what exactly do you do? Because you’ve got a really fancy car, and you act like a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”

His grin didn’t falter. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “No clue. Should I?”

Lando leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, I’m a Formula 1 driver. Kind of a big deal in motorsport.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, processing his words. Then she blinked, completely unfazed. “Okay, so… you’re like a racecar driver?”

He laughed at how nonchalantly she said it. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Huh.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That explains the car.”

“Explains a lot of things,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Still, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. It’s kind of refreshing, actually.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Most people know who I am,” he admitted. “It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t immediately treat me like I’m… you know, famous.”

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t follow racing,” she said with a small smile. “I’m just trying to figure out why a guy like you is wasting time flirting with a girl who wrecked his car.”

Lando leaned forward, his playful expression softening slightly. “Because maybe I like that girl who wrecked my car.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden sincerity in his tone. She wasn’t sure what to make of this whole situation. The flirty banter was one thing, but now it felt like there was something more behind his words. Something genuine.

“I don’t get it,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “We’ve barely talked. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Lando replied, his gaze locking with hers. “And I want to get to know more.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling a strange mix of nerves and curiosity. This wasn’t what she’d expected when she agreed to meet him. She thought it would be a quick, awkward conversation about insurance, not… this.

“Lando, I don’t even know if I want to date someone right now,” she admitted, unsure of what else to say.

He nodded, his expression serious. “That’s fair. I’m not asking for anything big. Just… let me take you out sometime. No pressure. If you don’t like it, we’ll call it even, and you never have to see me again.”

Y/N hesitated, searching his face for any sign that he was messing with her. But all she saw was sincerity. He wasn’t being pushy or demanding, just… hopeful.

After a long pause, she finally sighed. “Fine. One date. But if you turn out to be some crazy celebrity playboy, I’m out.”

Lando’s grin returned, brighter than ever. “Deal.”

-

A week later, Y/N found herself walking into a small, intimate restaurant Lando had chosen for their first date. She was nervous, still unsure about the whole thing, but when she saw him waiting at the entrance with that same goofy grin, her nerves eased a little.

The night went better than she could’ve imagined. Lando wasn’t just some cocky racecar driver—he was funny, down-to-earth, and surprisingly sweet. He asked about her job, her hobbies, her favorite books, and genuinely seemed interested in everything she said. By the end of the night, Y/N realized she was actually having fun.

As they left the restaurant, Lando walked her to her car, the same little sedan that had started this whole mess. He turned to her, hands in his pockets, a slightly shy smile on his face.

“So,” he began, “how was it? Am I still in your good books, or are you planning to never see me again?”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “You’re still in the good books.”

“Good to know,” Lando replied, relief evident in his voice. “I guess that means I can ask for another date?”

Y/N bit her lip, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I guess you can.”

Lando’s grin was contagious, and before Y/N knew it, she was smiling too.

And just like that, a minor collision had turned into something unexpected. Something more.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Farewell: The Day Gotham Let Him Go

They searched for him for months.

When Tim Drake disappeared, the entire Batfamily unraveled. One day he was there, saving Gotham alongside them. The next? Gone. No explanation. No note. Just silence. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian—they all assumed the worst. Kidnapping, foul play, an elaborate plot. Because Tim Drake doesn’t just leave.

But he did.

Months later, they found him. Not in a dark corner of Gotham. Not held captive by some villain. No, they found him in a small, quiet town in Europe. A place with cobblestone streets and flower boxes in every window. Tim was there, in a cozy house with a garden out back. And he wasn’t alone. He had a child—a bright-eyed little one with dark hair and a curious smile. The moment they saw the kid, they knew.

Kon.

The clone Tim made, after all those failed attempts to bring Kon-El back. Tim had finally succeeded. And he was raising this child alone, quietly, away from the chaos of Gotham.

The confrontation wasn’t what they expected. Bruce tried to argue, voice low and rough, that Tim was too young for this. “You’re barely out of your own childhood,” he said, the words falling flat even as he spoke them. He knew the truth: Tim had never really been a child.

Tim’s response? Calm. Firm.

“I raised you out of your grief. I was Robin because Gotham needed me to be. Because you needed me to be. But this isn’t what I wanted for my life. I’m choosing my happiness, Bruce.”

They didn’t know how to respond to that. Because Tim was right. He’d given everything—his childhood, his innocence, his sanity—for a city that never gave back.

Now, he had a family. A child who wasn’t burdened with masks and capes. And a life. A real life. One where he spent afternoons in the garden, mornings at the café down the street. Where he wasn’t “Red Robin” or “Tim Drake.” He was just… Tim.

There were signs of something else, too. Little things. An extra coffee mug in the kitchen. Another pair of shoes by the door. A faint, easy smile when he glanced across the street, as if sharing an inside joke with someone they couldn’t see. They didn’t press. But there was a quiet presence in Tim’s life, woven into the edges of this new chapter. Someone who helped build this safe haven, this peace.

And Tim had no plans of returning to Gotham.

“I’m not Red Robin anymore. And I never will be again.”

They didn’t understand at first. Not fully. How could he walk away? How could he choose this life, this quiet happiness, over the mission? Over them?

But deep down, they knew. They’d always known Tim’s heart wasn’t in it the way theirs was. He wasn’t like Bruce, who could never let go. Or Jason, who burned with restless fury. Or Dick, who carried hope like a torch. Tim had been the glue holding them together, but it had come at a cost. And now he was finally healing.

“I’ll still be family,” Tim promised. “I’ll visit. Holidays, special occasions. But this? This is my life now. You can’t take me away from my happiness because you need me to stay. That’s not fair.”

They wanted to argue. But what could they say? Tim had always been the rational one. The one who saw the bigger picture. And he was right.

Bruce’s voice softened. “You’re happy.”

Tim nodded. “I am.”

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

The Batfamily returned to Gotham, a little quieter, a little heavier. They’d lost Red Robin. But they hadn’t lost Tim. And as much as it hurt, they knew he’d finally found the peace they could never give him.

Some heroes leave the fight not because they’ve lost hope, but because they’ve found something worth living for.

Tim Drake had given Gotham everything. Now, it was time for Gotham to let him go.

[impish-baby]

Hi! I hope you make sure to drink some water, eat a little something, and keep warm. May I request a fic where let's say the hero's sidekick gets kidnapped by a group of villains? When they wake up in an unfamiliar place they panic and start to regress but they're trying to hide it when they begin to get interrogated...(they're failing miserably at hiding it)

Maybe the villain and sidekick are hybrids? Up to you. Thank you and keep safe!

In April, I open my bill - platonic yandere! villians × sidekick! reader (pt.1) - 🪶🗡

You're so getting benched after this.

It's not even your fault that you were caught! Maybe you begged a little to go out on a mission, but it was supposed to be a simple stake out, not an ambush. Nobody has let you out on the field without a babysitter since you started training! And the one time you are, you're kidnapped. Great. You'll never hear the end of it.

To make things better, there's a power suppressor strapped to your ankle. Cowards. It not like you're already bound to the damm chair you woke up in, they just had to go the extra mile. Maybe they see you as an actual threat? A tiny bit of pride swells in your chest.

You are a threat! You're part of the best hero team there is, doesn't matter that you aren't debuted out to the public yet, you're still an important member!

.....they're going to come save you soon, you know it.

There's no way you've been passed out for very long, a few hours at most, right? Yeah, it won't be too long now.

On the bright side, you're not beat up! A small donk to the back of the head and that's it. Your wings ache from being fixed to your back, but at least you'll be able to stretch them when you're back to base. Gotta look at the positive things.

When the door clicks open you're just expecting to see the same idiot goons that grabbed you in the first place, not the nemesis of your mentor.

You take it back, there's absolutely no positives.

"My, you are certainly a treat.. I should've given Helix and his crew more credit." Asphodel has a pleasant smile on his face, it's the opposite of comforting. "You're the one that's gotten the city all in a buzz, huh? The little sidekick Apollo took so graciously under his wing.."

You're not scared. You're not. You're terrified.

So much blood has been split by the villian you could fill an ocean and still have some leftover. He's cruel, careless, the last hero he sinked his claws into was dropped unceremoniously on the steps of the capital building. The only thing your team might be retrieving is a corpse.

"So, dearest, I'm awfully curious. Everyone is really. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" A plush stool is dragged in front of you so the villain can sit, his own wings spread out gracefully behind him. Lucky bastard.

When you only glare silently he chuckles, his smile turning into a smirk. "Aw, are you shy? Poor thing, here, I'll go first to ease your nerves." Asphodel holds put his hand like he expects you to shake it, "I imagine you know my name already, so I won't bore you with telling you things you're already aware of, but I have very special plans for you. It's such a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You'll die alone. The last thing you'll have done before going out is getting in a stupid argument with everyone because they said you weren't ready to do things solo. At least you can't tell a dead person I told you so. Nobody can blame you for the wetness slipping down your cheeks either.

"Oh, are those tears already?" He feighns surpise, placing the previously outstretched hand over his heart. "I thought you were a hero in training? How unbecoming of someone under the city's golden boy's tutelage."

A pathetic chirp almost leaves your lips before you bite your tongue. You just want your nest. You want to wake up like this was a horrible nightmare and have Apollo baby you like you're a delicate fledgling again.

"I haven't touched a single hair on your pretty head and already you've started with the waterworks." He gives a disappointed sigh, "perhaps that's why you've been here a week with no pesky heros showing up, they finally have a chance to be rid of a weakling among their ranks."

A week? No. No, someone would've come for you by then.

"Hm?" He leans towards you, cupping your cheek surprisingly gentle. It still makes you flinch. "You don't believe me, do you, dear?" Asphodel hums, leaning back and pulling a phone from his pocket. "Here, see for yourself."

The mission was Monday, it's 10 pm on Saturday now.

A news report just rubs salt in the wound, there's not one mention of your name. Not a missing persons report. There's nothing to attribute that someone's been looking for you at all.

"It's a little mean of them, isn't it?" He turns the video off before putting the phone back into his pocket, "Abandoning you here with me, don't fret though, darling."

A broken chirp finally does leave you when he reaches to pet your head, his eyes widening almost as much as yours are. "Oh. Oh. That does make my job so much easier."

He stands up in a blink of an eye to reach under your costume, shushing you softly. "It's ok, I'll only be a moment." Asphodel gasps when he brushes your feathers, stepping back and wagging a finger at you. "Naughty thing, do you know how bad for you that is? Goodness.."

You're still frozen still with fear and shock, not even moving when he starts to untie you from the chair. "Honestly.. we'll hope that you haven't done any permanent damage, it'll be a shame if you're grounded because of this."

You were told that it's safe. That you still used your wings enough, so you didn't need to worry about your flight being affected. You trusted Apollo and the others more than anything.

"There we are.." Asphodel also goes ahead and takes off your cloak for you once the restraints are gone, cutting two slits into the back of your undershirt with his talons so your wings can slip through. "Perfect, that must feel so much better."

It does, or it would if he didn't immediately start picking through your feathers.

"Hush," he's being careful, straightening anything that's out of place with a practiced hand. "I'm helping, my dove. You're safe, those old nasty heroes that betrayed you don't matter. Just focus on me."

You don't mean to melt into his arms, but all the emotions you feel mix into a confusing mess. Being held makes it go away a little.

"Good, you're such a good little one, aren't you?" He coos, words dripping with honeyed sweetness. "You don't think about anything else other than feeling safe with me, that's all you need to know."

(a/n: apologies..I got away from the prompt with this I think qwq hopefully it was still enjoyable! I'll do something more with reader regressing if there's interest)

[rootedinrevisions]

More Than a Game

SUMMARY: When you join Glen Powell for a night under the bright Texas stadium lights, you expect an evening of football and fun—but what you don’t expect is the sting of an offhand comment that shakes your confidence. As Glen’s world of fans and flashing cameras surrounds you, he’s quick to remind you of where you stand: by his side, as the one who holds his heart. With every protective gesture, from offering you his jacket to placing his prized Stetson on your head, Glen shows the world that you’re not just another face in the crowd—you’re someone special.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I couldn't see the way Glen was looking at the Texas football game and NOT write something about it. I combined a little bit of my idea from seeing him at the game last night with a request I received for protective Glen defending you. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Some body shaming/slight bullying. But mostly this is fluff. Implied smut happening later.

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The drive to the game felt like it had gone by in a blur, but your heart was still racing. You kept sneaking glances at Glen, who was effortlessly steering his truck down familiar Austin streets, humming along to the country song playing softly through the speakers. The sight of him in his burnt orange jacket, his dark brown Stetson resting on the dash, made you smile. He was so deeply Texan, so deeply himself, and you loved that about him.

But today was different. Today wasn’t just another day at his place or one of your quiet, private dinners. Today, you were stepping into his world, a world filled with football fans, media, and curious eyes.

“You sure about this?” Glen’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see his warm, brown eyes on you. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, even though his usual confident smile was still there. His hand was resting on your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing you.

You nodded, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, you know that, right?” His thumb brushed back and forth against your leg, a soothing motion that made it hard to focus on anything but his touch.

You exhaled, trying to release some of the tension you’d been carrying all morning. “I know, but... I want to. I’m just a little nervous.”

Glen’s hand shifted, his fingers intertwining with yours now as he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. You’re with me, okay? It’s just a game. And no matter what, I’m right here.”

The simplicity of his words, the steady calm in his voice, grounded you in a way that nothing else could. Glen had a way of making everything feel right, even when the rest of the world felt chaotic. You smiled at him, feeling your nerves slowly easing, though a small part of you still wondered what it would be like to step into the spotlight with him.

“I’m right here,” he repeated, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze before resting it back on your thigh. 

The warmth of his palm was a quiet reminder of the man beside you—the man who’d chosen you, wanted you in his life. Even with his hectic schedule, the endless stream of filming projects, press tours, and interviews, Glen always made time for you. No matter how chaotic things got, he’d find a way to carve out moments that were just yours. Whether it was late-night phone calls when he was halfway around the world or surprising you with a weekend getaway after a grueling shoot, he never made you feel like you were competing with his career. He always made you feel like you mattered.

And today, with everything on his plate, he was still here—hand in yours, offering you the steady reassurance that, despite all the noise of his world, you were the part that grounded him.

As you approached the stadium, the sight of fans in burnt orange, waving flags, and cheering already filled the air. Glen’s hand never left you, and as you pulled into the parking lot, he gave your leg one last reassuring squeeze before turning off the engine. He flashed you that signature smile, the one that made your heart skip and leaned in slightly.

“Let’s do this, yeah?”

You nodded, your nerves still there but softened by the fact that Glen was beside you—steady, calm, and exactly the kind of person who could turn an overwhelming moment into something that felt safe.

The hum of the stadium grew louder as you and Glen made your way through the corridors, his hand never leaving yours. Each step you took, the anticipation in the air grew thicker. The faint sound of a band playing echoed through the concrete walls, the roar of the crowd amplifying with every turn.

And then, you stepped out into the open.

The sight was overwhelming at first—the sea of burnt orange stretching as far as the eye could see, flags waving proudly in the stands, the stadium alive with energy. The lights beamed down on the field, casting a golden hue across the manicured grass. The sheer size of it, the passion radiating from the crowd—it was more than you had imagined. 

For a moment, you stood still, taking it all in, the magnitude of where you were sinking in. This was Glen's world, and it was as vibrant and electric as he’d always said. You felt his eyes on you before you even turned to him. When you glanced up, you found him smiling at you, a look of quiet pride and happiness on his face. He loved this. It wasn’t just the game, the culture, the tradition—it was sharing it with you. Seeing you take in the thing he loved most with such wonder lit up something in him.

His hand gently squeezed yours, pulling you closer as he murmured, "You alright?"

You nodded, smiling as you glanced back out at the stadium. "Yeah. This is... it's incredible."

He chuckled softly, his voice warm with affection. "I told you." His gaze lingered on you, his eyes soft as he watched you soak in the moment. "I'm glad you're here with me. Means a lot."

You looked up at him, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. You meant a lot to him. Even in the midst of all this—the noise, the chaos, the spectacle—his focus was still on you. Glen Powell, the Texas boy with a larger-than-life career and a love for this sport, was standing here, looking at you like you were the most important part of this moment.

Your heart swelled, and as you shared a quiet smile with him, you knew—this was more than just a game. It was a part of who Glen was, and you were honored to be a part of it, a part of him.

You could see the players warming up, coaches barking orders, and media personnel buzzing around, all while the game raged on. It was an atmosphere you could only describe as electric.

But then, the attention started to shift. One by one, people began noticing Glen. A few fans from the crowd above called his name, waving enthusiastically as they snapped pictures from their phones. It wasn’t long before a group of people nearby on the sidelines approached him—some familiar faces, others eager fans who clearly recognized him. Glen responded with his signature easy charm, greeting each person with that warm, affable smile you knew so well.

But through it all, he never let go of your hand.

If anything, his grip tightened slightly, reassuring you that even in the middle of the excitement, you were his priority. As he talked to a couple of reporters who recognized him from past interviews, he kept you close, standing just a step behind him, your shoulder brushing his arm.

Every so often, Glen would glance back at you, as if to check in, his eyes softening every time they met yours. His hand would occasionally shift to the small of your back, that familiar warmth spreading through you as he kept you grounded in this whirlwind of activity.

"Hey, I want you to meet someone," Glen said, his voice filled with excitement as he turned to you. 

He introduced you to one of the assistant coaches, and a couple of old friends from his time at the University of Texas. Each time, he spoke your name with quiet pride, like he was sharing a part of his world with them. And every time he did, you felt your nerves ease a little more.

As the two of you made your way further down the sidelines more and more people seemed to start to recognize Glen. Glen shook hands and greeted them warmly, but never let go of you. Even as more people started to crowd around, he kept you close by his side, his hand drifting to the small of your back when someone leaned in to say hello.

But as the attention on Glen grew, so did the whispers. At first, it was just a few curious glances, the kind you expected when people recognized a celebrity.

But then, as you stood by Glen’s side, a voice behind you made your stomach drop.

"Wait, is that his girlfriend?" a girl whispered, her tone laced with disbelief.

"Yeah, I think so," someone else replied, not even bothering to lower their voice. "I thought he'd be dating someone… prettier."

Your heart sank, the casual cruelty of their words cutting deeper than you expected. You tried to keep your face neutral, but it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. For a moment, the excitement of the game, the energy of the crowd—all of it faded into the background, replaced by the sharp sting of their comment.

Prettier. The word echoed in your head, twisting your stomach into knots. You swallowed hard, trying to push it away, but the insecurity started creeping in, faster than you could stop it. You suddenly felt out of place, self-conscious in a way you hadn’t before. Here, in this world that Glen seemed to fit into so effortlessly, you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t measure up.

Glen must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, because he turned toward you, his smile faltering as he noticed the look on your face. His hand slipped from your back to your arm, gently tugging you closer. 

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

You hesitated, your eyes darting to the ground as you forced a smile. 

"Yeah, I’m fine," you said, trying to brush it off, but your voice came out smaller than you intended.

But Glen wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his brows knitting together as he looked at you with that gentle but piercing gaze, the one that always seemed to know when something was bothering you. "What happened?"

You swallowed, debating whether to say anything. It felt silly, childish even, to let a stranger’s comment get under your skin. But it did, and Glen could see it.

After a beat, you sighed and leaned in, lowering your voice. "Someone made a dumb comment," you murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His brow furrowed further, his hand gently rubbing your arm. "What did they say?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening as you replayed the words in your head. "They said…" you hesitated, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "They thought you'd be dating someone prettier."

For a second, Glen didn’t say anything. His expression hardened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as the meaning of your words sank in. You could see the protective instinct kicking in, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area behind you, searching for the source of the comment. It was subtle, but you could feel the shift in him, the way his body tensed, ready to defend you.

But instead of turning to confront the person, he took a breath and refocused on you. His hand moved from your arm to your face, gently cradling your cheek as he leaned in closer to you.

"Look at me," he said quietly, his voice steady and full of warmth.

You blinked up at him, the noise of the stadium fading into the background as you met his gaze.

"Don’t listen to them," Glen said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "They don’t know you. They don’t know us. And they sure as hell don’t know what they’re talking about."

You felt a lump rise in your throat as his words washed over you. It was hard to shake the doubt, but Glen’s presence, his unwavering confidence in you, made it easier to breathe.

He smiled a soft, affectionate smile that was just for you. "You’re the most beautiful person here, and not just because of how you look," he continued, his voice low but firm. "But because of who you are. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. Ever."

Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of the earlier comment slowly lifting. Glen leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth that always made you feel safe.

"And just so you know," Glen added, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, "if anyone says anything else, they’ll have to deal with me."

"You’re too good to me," you whispered.

Glen’s grin softened, his hand sliding back down to your waist as he pulled you close. "Nah," he said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I’m just lucky to have you."

As the crisp Texas air settled around you, Glen’s attention shifted. He could feel the slight chill in the air, and without missing a beat, he glanced over at you.

“You cold?” he asked, his voice soft yet full of care.

You shook your head at first, but Glen wasn’t having it.

“Here,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket, the scent of him—spice and something distinctly Glen—filling the space between you. “Put this on.”

You hesitated for a second, but he was already holding it out for you, his hands poised to help you slide your arms through. As you slipped into the warmth of his jacket, Glen’s hands rested lightly on your shoulders, adjusting it to fit just right. He stepped back, eyes scanning you for a moment with a satisfied smile.

Just when you thought the gesture was over, Glen reached up, taking his dark brown Stetson off his head. Your eyes widened in surprise—this was Glen’s favorite hat, the one you knew he was almost possessive over. It was a custom one that was a gift from his parents a few years back. It had a "Hook 'Em" logo on the back. He never let anyone wear it. So when he carefully placed it on top of your head, tipping it just so, you couldn’t help the confused laugh that bubbled out of you.

“You... you don't let anyone wear this,” you said, your voice full of disbelief as you adjusted the brim.

Glen’s smile widened, his hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. “You aren’t just anyone,” he replied, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. “You’re someone special.”

The warmth in his voice matched the flutter of your heart, sending a rush of heat through your body despite the cool air. Your fingers tightened around the lapels of his jacket, pulling it closer to you, feeling the warmth of him linger in the leather. The smile that crept onto your face was involuntary, the way his words wrapped around you more effectively than any jacket could.

Glen’s hands found your waist again, tugging you closer until you were wrapped up in him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered just for you, his breath hot against your skin. “You remember what it means to wear a man’s cowboy hat, right?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his words, the playful challenge clear in his tone.

“Oh, I remember,” you murmured back, glancing up at him with a glint in your eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll fulfill my end of the deal... back at your place.”

Glen chuckled, low and satisfied, pulling you into another hug before stepping back. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, winking as he tilted the brim of the Stetson down slightly, casting a shadow over your face. It was such a simple, playful moment, but the intimacy behind it left a warmth simmering between the two of you.

With his arm around your waist, you both continued walking down the sidelines, navigating through a sea of fans and sidelong glances. Glen kept you close, his hand secure around your hip as he smiled and waved at familiar faces. 

But his grip on you tightened a little when you both overheard a comment from a nearby fan. “What does he see in someone like…her,” the girl muttered to her friend, her voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to think she could get away with it.

The words hit you like a jolt, and you instinctively drew in closer to Glen, trying to brush it off, but the sting lingered. 

Glen must have felt your reaction, sensed the shift in your mood, because before you could even fully process the comment, his hand slid protectively to the small of your back, gently pulling you even closer.

“Because she’s gorgeous,” Glen said, not loud enough for the girls to hear, but just for you. His voice was full of certainty, leaving no room for doubt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

His words were a balm, softening the sharp edges of your insecurity. You smiled up at him, thankful for his ability to ground you with just a few words. Glen grinned back, and then, as if to solidify his point, he reached up and adjusted the Stetson on your head again, a playful reminder of who you were with.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his thumb tracing comforting circles against your side.

You nodded, mustering up a more genuine smile now. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He looked satisfied with that, giving you a light squeeze before glancing around the stadium again. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “we don’t have to stay down here. The suites are up top, and we could have a little more privacy. What do you say?”

The idea of some quiet away from the lingering eyes sounded appealing, especially if it meant getting to spend more time with Glen without the constant buzz of onlookers. “That sounds perfect,” you said, leaning into him slightly.

Glen’s grin widened as he pulled you in closer and guided you toward the stairs. “Good. Let’s go before you get too comfortable in my hat,” he teased, his tone light, but his hand on you steady and reassuring.

As you made your way up toward the suites, the tension from earlier slowly melted away, replaced by the warmth of Glen’s unwavering presence. You might have been in the middle of a crowd, but with his jacket around your shoulders and his Stetson perched on your head, it was clear to anyone watching—you were his, and he was yours.

[tokkiwrites]

ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ & ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ

summary: your dad's birthday is coming up, and you want to buy something special, but you're short a couple hundred dollars. not wanting to change your idea for a gift you ask his best friend, Joel Miller, to help you out until you get more money. He agrees but surcharges. tags: pwp, dbf!joel, f!reader, afab reader, age gap (legal, the reader is 22, joel is in his mid forties), kind of slut shaming i dunno, fingering f receiving, head m receiving, dirty talk galore, pet names galore, p in v unprotected. (lmk if i missed anything)

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ Woah i dunno what this was, kind of lame but i desperately need dbf joel to give it to me. 4.03k words but its mostly exposition. not proofread!!!

Your dad's birthday was just around the corner, and this year, you wanted to get him something that truly mattered. The usual gifts—grilling tools, books, maybe a bottle of whiskey—didn’t feel right. You’d found something more special, something that spoke to him. It was a vintage guitar, similar to the one he had when he was younger, the one he used to play for you on lazy sunday afternoons. You knew it would bring back memories for him, and maybe, just maybe, he’d start playing again.

But there was one big problem—you couldn’t afford it. You were short. A couple hundred dollars short, and no matter how you shifted your budget, it just wouldn’t work. You’d gone over your options more times than you could count, and each time, you felt that pang of disappointment grow stronger. You weren’t someone who liked asking for help. You always tried to handle things on your own, but this time, there was no way around it.

That’s when Joel came to mind. Maybe he could help.

Joel Miller had been your dad’s best friend for as long as you could remember. He was the one who was always around, helping out when your dad needed a hand with anything or just dropping by for a beer and a quiet conversation. Joel had a way about him—steady, unshakable. Older, but not in a way that dulled him. His rough edges made him seem more dependable, like someone who’d been through enough to know what really mattered.

Over the years, you’d noticed things about him. Little things. The way his voice, low and gravelly, would call out your name with a slow drawl that sent a small shiver down your spine and straight to your cunt. The way his hands, calloused from years of hard work, looked when they were fixing something or just resting casually on the steering wheel of his truck. Somewhere along the line, what started as casual observations turned into a quiet crush. It was ridiculous, really. He was your dad’s best friend, and you were way too young for him. But that didn’t stop the way your heart skipped whenever you saw him or how your breath caught when he gave you one of those long, unreadable looks.

You’d always had this childish, gnawing thing for Joel, even though you knew it was wrong. He was someone who’d practically watched you grow up. But that didn’t stop your mind from wandering in all the wrong places. Over the years, you’d caught yourself daydreaming about him, what he'd do to you, imagining what it would be like if things were different—if you were his.

It wasn’t just his looks, though those didn’t hurt. Joel had that rugged charm about him—broad shoulders, rough hands, and a way of carrying himself that made you feel safe and small in a way that made your mind spiral. you wanted to be at his mercy. You couldn’t help but notice the lines that deepened around his eyes when he smiled, the slow, steady way he spoke, that gentle drawl making every word sound like it was meant just for you. And those moments when his gaze lingered a second too long—when his eyes would flicker over you in a way that made your pulse quicken—you’d catch yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he saw you differently too.

But it was just fantasy. Joel was older, your dad’s best friend, and he’d never cross that line. You told yourself that over and over, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. Late at night, when you were alone, you’d let yourself imagine— touching yourself while wondering. What if you weren’t who you were, and he wasn’t who he was? What if, in another life, he could be more than just your dad’s friend? You’d picture his hands on you, the way his voice might sound close to your ear, the roughness of his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin.

But every time, reality pulled you back. Joel would never see you that way. It was impossible. You were just the kid he’d known for years, nothing more. Still, the fantasy lingered, a secret you kept tucked away, knowing it could never become anything real.

right?

You hadn’t planned on asking him for help. It wasn’t something you were comfortable with, especially not from Joel. But as the days ticked by and you couldn’t figure out how to make the money work, the idea crept into your mind more and more. He was reliable, and if anyone would help you out without making you feel bad about it, it would be Joel. You sat with your phone in your lap for what felt like forever, staring at his name on the screen. It took a few deep breaths before you finally hit call. The phone barely rang twice before you heard his familiar voice on the other end.

"Hey, darlin'," he spoke, the warmth of his voice instantly grounding you. "Somethin' wrong?" His concern was real. Joel wasn’t the type to waste words, and for a second, you thought about backing out. But then you thought about the gift, about your dad’s face when he saw it, and the words spilled out.

"Hey, Joel. I’m okay, just... I need a favor," you admitted, biting your lip, feeling the awkwardness rise in your chest. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, the sound rumbling through the phone. "You? Ask for a favor? Must be somethin’ important."

You smiled despite yourself, already feeling some of the tension ease. “It’s about dad’s birthday. I found this perfect gift, but I’m short a couple hundred dollars, and... I hate asking, but I don’t know what else to do.” Joel was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath. Then, his voice came through, steady as always. "How much you need?" You blinked, surprised at how quick he was to offer. "Uh, about two hundred. I swear I’ll pay you back as soon as I—"

"Don’t worry ‘bout that," Joel cut you off, his tone so casual it almost threw you. "Come by later, we’ll figure it out."

And that was it. He hung up before you had a chance to protest, leaving you sitting there, a mixture of relief and something else bubbling inside you. Later came quicker than you expected, and before long, you found yourself driving out to his place. The sun was low in the sky, casting the road in golden light as you drove the familiar route. Joel lived just outside town, far enough out that it always felt like stepping into a different world when you visited him.

When you pulled into his driveway, his old truck was parked out front, dust-covered and reliable, much like the man himself. The air was warm, the sun casting long shadows across his yard, and for a moment, you sat in your car, your heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t know why you were so nervous—this was just Joel, after all—but something about this felt different. It wasn’t just about asking for money. Before you could second-guess yourself, you got out of the car and walked up to his front door. Your shoes crunched against the gravel, and the soft thud of your knock on the door sounded too loud in this quiet evening.

Joel opened the door almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for you all this time. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on you. For a second, you were caught in his gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Hey, darlin'," he greeted, his voice soft but thick with that familiar gruff.

"Hi, Joel," you replied, stepping inside, trying to hide your apparent blush. The smell of wood and something faintly musky filled the air, and the room felt like it always did—warm, safe. You’d been here countless times, but today, something felt different. Maybe it was just you. You sat down on the couch, trying to calm your nerves, while Joel took his usual spot across from you, leaning back in his chair with that easy posture, his eyes still lingering on you. There was something about the way he looked at you tonight, something that made your skin prickle with awareness.

“So,” he started, his voice low, “you need a little help with this gift, huh?” You nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “Yeah. It’s more expensive than I thought. I didn’t want to ask, but…” Joel shook his head, cutting you off. “You ain’t gotta explain. I told you I’d help, didn’t I?” Relief washed over you, but then, as you glanced back at him, you caught the way his eyes hadn’t left yours. There was something different in them now—something that made your heart race a little faster. "But," Joel continued, his tone dropping just a notch, slower now, like he was considering each word carefully, "you know me. I don’t do favors for nothin’."

Your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his voice, in the way he was watching you, that sent a rush of heat through your body. You felt your folds dripping through your white cotton panties. He wasn’t just talking about the money, and you knew it. The room seemed smaller, the air between you thick with something, your pulse plummeting under his steady gaze.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure of how to respond. You’d known Joel your whole life, but this—this was different. The way he was looking at you now wasn’t like anything you’d felt from him before, hungry, and it made you both nervous and excited, a dangerous mix you didn’t know how to handle. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "So," he drawled, his voice like gravel, "what’re you gonna give me in return?"

"A-Anything.." You spoke up, the words cascading out before you could even process them. "That so?" You see him smile, looking down at his hands. "You're a big girl... I think you know what i want." Your heart almost stops. Joel stands up, slowly inching himself closer. "Joel, Iㅡ" you try to protest, not quite sure what to make of what he just said. "You think i don't know? think i dont notice how you look at me, always wearin' those skimpy clothes when 'm around...tryna' look innocent." the rhythm of your heart races, realizing what is really happening. you were to afraid to look up, afraid of what he'll say next, so you stuck to staring at the ground. "You think i couldn't hear ya touchin' yourself, moanin' my name, when I stayed over? God, woke up with the biggest morning wood ever that dayㅡ felt like a fuckin' teenager." he chuckles to himself, rough fingertips trailing your shoulder, finally reaching your chin. he grabs a hold of it, turning your head harshly so you could look at him. your blushed skin burned, eyes wide with expectation.

"Joel, 'm sorry, pleaseㅡ"

"Oh, so now you beggin'? could've come to me so long ago 'n ask me nicely to give it to you, sweet girl. Guess this is where you repay me for helpin' out with your dad's gift and for all those boners you made me power through." is this really happening? your eyes dart around the room, but he's quick to grab tightly on your cheeks, making your gazes meet. "You look at me when I'm talkin' to you, angel." His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher, but it made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and something else you were ashamed to nameㅡ you could try to deny it but the way your cunt pulsed when he talked to you that way was your biggest enemy. "Joel, please—" you started again, your voice shaky, but he cut you off with a low, humorless chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw, keeping you in place.

"Don't 'please' me, darlin'," he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, eyes now on your obvious cleavage. "You've been teasin’ me for years now, comin' ‘round lookin’ all sweet and innocent, actin' like you didn’t know what you were doin’. Always starin' at me with those big eyes, waitin' for me to make a wrong move." he was right and you hated to admit it. he held you firm, his grip unrelenting. " I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I think you meant every bit of it," he said, his lips curling into a small smile, head lowering. "But now look where that’s got you. You came to me for help, and I agreed to help, didn’t I? Now it’s time to give somethin' back." your pulse thudded loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but him, his voice, the feeling of him so close. You’d never thought it would be like this, not with Joel. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, caught between the fantasy you'd let grow over the years and the reality of what was happening now.

"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you? Gonna be a good little girl 'n let me have at you?" he asked, his voice a low rasp, like gravel scraping across your skin, the words sinking deep into your bones. "Yㅡyes." you say, voice was quiet, buried under the arousal, the want for more and his honey words. "Atta girl." Joel leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you tilted your head up, closing the distance between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, it was like everything clicked into place. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty anymore. His kiss was slow but sure, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You sighed into him, hands instinctively resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the roughness that made him like a drug to you.

a few moments pass, and joel pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, one that he breaks when his rough thumb drags itself across your bottom lip. "pretty, pretty girl." you moan, you feel so pathetic. he's barely touched you, yet you feel the pool growing inside your panties by the second.

"p-please, joel.."

"please, what, angel cake? gotta tell me exactly what ya want." he smiles, prepping soft pecks onto your face. "t-touch me..please." you gather the courage to speak up, watching his eyes grow darker as he hears your request. "fuck, baby...what would your dad say if he heard you just then, huh? what if he saw what a cock desperate slut you are?" chuckling low, his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, making you whimper. "don't c-care.."

" 'Course you don't. Always knew you were a little whore. well, right now you'll be my little whore, right?" he tilts his head to the side, his thumb urging your mouth to open. "c'mon, girl, open." and you do as you're told, opening you mouth wide, tongue lulled out. he then gathers some spit in his mouth before letting the glistening droplet fall from his lips onto your tongue. "Swallow it. Let me seeㅡ" its so overwhelming, so dirty, and he didn't even do anything. at this moment, it feels as if only a slight nip at your skin could send you over the edge. "You know your place, yeah, baby?" you hum eagerly, not sure what his next request will be but ready to fulfill it and give him your all. "tell me. you really wanna do this." Guilt clawed at your heart. Yet, you couldn't stop what you felt. it was wrong, but in this moment, it felt so right. "need you, Joel, please.."

"fuck, okay angel."

his large hands start to pull at your clothes, undressing you slowly, savoring and drinking you up with his eyes. your naked body was shivering, you didn't know if it was from the temperature or because of the anticipation playing with your heartstringsㅡ you just knew you needed to give everything you had to Joel. make him proud. "i got you, babygirl." you feel yourself get picked up and placed onto the old leather couch in the middle of the living room, the cold surface making you jump a little. joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your hip all the way to your mid thigh, as you try to bite back your moans. "Let me hear you, baby, don't hold back. you wanna make me proud, don't ya?" Oh, you do.

"gonna let me ruin you, angel girl?" and it feels like your heart could run a marathon. you nod away, eagerly. you feel so pathetic, all sprawled out naked under him, whilst he's still dressed. "words, baby. you that stupid already? I ain't even fucked you yet 'n you can't even say one word. tsk." he mocks you, twirling with your hardened nipples. "i'mㅡ please, joel, please..." you almost cry. he laughs, fingers finally reaching your dripping folds and swirling around them "fuck, darlin', you're so wet. all this for me, hm? this pussy cryin' for an old man like me?" he teases "yes, only f-for you...please."

"that's right." Joel kisses the side of your neck, nibbling at the skin whilst he finally pushes inside of you one of his rugged fingers, making your back jolt and arch. you cover your mouth with your palms, shocked by the own sound you just made. "Keep moanin' for me, little girl. let me hear how good I make you feel.." his words flood over you, as the knot in your tummy tightly turns, Joel's cologne swirling in your nostrils and getting you drunk off of it and this feeling. "so tight, baby. can't wait to feel you 'round my cock." you choke back a pathetic whine. "you like it? like it when i fuck you with my fingers and talk to you like this?" you nod, pushing yourself further onto his digits. "filthy girl, s'it turn you on when you're fucked out on an old man's fingers?"

"yesㅡ god, yes, please, joel, please, 'm so close." but then it all stops. you whine at the sudden lack of feeling, but you open your eyes and see Joel stand up.

your vision was hazy from all the tears in your eyes, and your heart felt stuck in your throat, but you watched the man discard himself of his clothes andㅡ holy. fucking. shit. all of your fantasies of Joel couldn't prepare you for what was going to happen. he stood there, tall, gruff as he stroked himself. his length was girthy, almost too thick, veiny, with a pinkish, angry tip. he knew he was huge. That's what made it so exciting for him. watching you gawk at his cock, made him feel more powerful over you.

"c'mon, angel, it won't bite...open wide now. widee ㅡ there you go...good little girl." he preaises, sliding his length between your lips. it was hard to adjust, and honestly, your jaw was hurting from the first couple of minutes you had him in your mouth. but the way his lips dripped with quiet moans, 'goodgirls' and 'thats rights', it made you push back the pain. it was bearableㅡ it was worth it. "jesus christ, girl, you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock." the man laughs, pushing his length further down your warm throat that was constricting as you gagged around him. "shitㅡ gonna make me come already." hissing, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

you look up at him, mascara smudged, lips swollen and blushed cheeks stained with tears and spit. "you're so gorgeous like this, baby. my gorgeous angel girl, begging for cock." he sighs, caressing you cheek before his hand slides down to wrap around your neck, squeezing it and making you light-headed. "gonna let me fuck you, darlin'? c'mon, answer."

"y-yes, please fuck m-me, Joel." joel scoffs, placing a little kiss on your forehead. with his other hand, he grabs his shaft and drags the tip along your folds, collecting all the juices that dripped from you. "fuckin' soaked for me, baby." and you hum a little 'only for you.' without stalling, he pushes in just the tip making you yelp as the sting spread through your pussy. you stare him deep in the eyes as he pushes in further, hushing you along the way. it was so bigㅡ too big. but you loved it, you loved that it was all you dreamed about and more. "I know, baby, I know. You're a good girl, you can take it." with that, he pushes in all the way, ripping through you, his precum mixing with your juices that were flowing over his cock. he thrusts in you cunningly, gripping your hips tightly and licking long strips down your neck. all you could do is sit there and take it. take it and make him proudㅡ you were paying him back, though.

"so pretty, angel, so, so pretty and tight 'f me, shitㅡ " joel moans, indulging further into you. your hips crash with his, and you try your best to say quiet as you feel his cock hit so deep, you're sure it reached your stomach. the room spun with you, you could only mutter little 'joels' as he pounded into you. after a few more pumps that familiar feeling was pooling at your core, causing you to tighten around Joel's length, which made him grunt and pull your hips flush to his "that's it, girl. come around my cock, let me feel ya squeezin' me."

you let go. bliss and pleasure take over you as your body contorts under joel, your walls fluttering around his shaft perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head. it doesn't take him long reach his orgasm, pumping a few more times into you before he take his cock out and paints your stomach and breasts with white, silky strands.

this all really happened.

After you both come down from your high, you cup his face in your warm palms, your stare tied to his. Joel's eyes were soft, warm, and filled with something you'd never seen beforeㅡ something that made your heart swell even more and realize what just went down between you two. "Should've done that a long time ago," he said with a soft, crooked smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek, still a little out of breath. You laughed lightly, still caught in the moment. "Yeah, you should've." His smile grew, and he leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You know this changes things, right?"

"I know," you whispered, feeling the truth of it all settle into your bones. "I want it to."

[f1byjessie]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll, and 97,141 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

view all 3,731 comments

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kokushibo meeting another moon breather and falling hard

Pairing: Kokushibo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You were supposed to be another killed demon slayer on his list, nothing but a girl he stumbled upon in the woods at night. But something about you is different. Something stops him from ending your life.

Warnings: Honestly none, a little bit of violence, a little bit of HEAT, this will get a Part 2 if you guys are interested so feel free to interact with that fic! <3

„Leaving again?“

You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, your katana already lying heavy in your rough hands.

“I have no choice. The order comes from Ubuyashiki-sama himself”, you reply with low voice.

Out of instinct, your eyes wander to the shining orb above, the most faithful companion of your life. Countless innocent nights, you just sat on the grass and took in its beauty inch by inch. But at times like these, the moon being out also means that demons wander on free foot.

“Lucky bastard”, Sanemi mumbles under his breath.

You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky. Not when you know painfully well that all those demons where once humans with dreams, hopes and love filling their hearts. Not when your whole family drowned you with love and affection only a few years ago.

Until Muzan Kibitsuji decided to turn their heads against you by turning them into demons.

“I’ll be back before training starts.”

“You better live up to that.”

 Without looking back one last time, you begin your journey to the other side of this haunted land. If Ubuyashiki-sama called for a hashira, the matter has to be serious-minded. And while his crow didn’t deliver a lot of information about details apart from the place being a small village in the south, you know all too well what that means.

A strong demon, maybe one of the upper moons, even. And you, a hashira who was chosen to kill it.

Your eyes roam around the peaceful area, take in how beautifully the full moon lights up the trees around you. A truly remarkable scenery you try to enjoy as often as possible, even though working as a pillar keeps your mind and body occupied most of the time.

But you aren’t alone. An unsettling feeling starts spreading inside of your chest, the instinct of being watched out of the darkness becoming more and more urgent in your mind.

“Are you the one who is responsible for the destruction of the village nearby?”, you question into the dusk.

Destruction? Kokushibo can’t help but shake his head ever so slightly. As if he’d waste his time with something this minor.

The real question is, who are you? The way you walk and talk tells him more than urgently that you aren’t one of those average demon slayers, that you have to be someone special. A pillar, probably. He can’t help but take in your graceful sight, the way you almost float over the wet grass, your eyes lit by the moon oh so perfectly while your hands are tightly grabbing your katana in contrast.

You are beautiful.  Enigmatic, powerful, and captivating... truly mesmerizing. In his long-lasting life, Kokushibo stumbled upon countless of women.

But they never caught his attention like you.

“I came here to end your suffering”, you continue calmly, not even your hands shaking by the sensation of meeting a demon.

You must sense it, that he’s far above the average demons you’ve encountered before.  You have to feel his presence by the way you tilt your head towards his direction ever so slightly. And still, you don’t waver. Not even a little bit.

“Even if your skill level proceeds mine by miles.”

His eyes widen for a brief moment.

“Why don’t you show yourself, upper moon?”

It’s an instinct, an act out of trance. Kokushibo follows your word and emerges out of the darkness he found comfort in, his gleaming eyes now meeting yours directly.

The upper moon one.

You don’t allow your heart to skip a beat, force your mind to keep its focus. This must be the head of Muzan Kibutsuji’s army, the mightiest of them all apart from himself. The upper moon Kyojuro lost his life to was number 3. Weaker than the man standing in front of you, less dangerous than the man standing in front of you.

And you? You wouldn’t consider yourself stronger than Kyojuro was.

“I am forced to end your life right here and now”, you declare with a calm demeanor.

“You are too weak to even reach me”, Kokushibo replies automatically.

“I have no other choice but to try.”

He tilts his head to the side, watches like in slow motion how the neutral expression on your face hardens ever so slightly while you lift up your sword.

“Moon breathing, third form: celestial silence.”

You release a wave of soundless crescent blades like you always do, emerge him into confusion and darkness to prepare for your next attack.

“Moon breathing. You use moon breathing?”

You are barely able to escape the grasp of his arm that shouldn’t even be able to reach you by letting yourself fall onto the ground. Not even Sanemi is able to see through that curtain of silence, how was he able to react so fast?

A faint layer of cold sweat starts forming on your forehead, your fingers now grabbing the handle of your sword tighter. What did you expect from the upper moon one?

“Fourth form: Lunar precision.”

You can’t allow your thoughts to wander, need to focus on the way your sword feels inside your hands and the series of rapid, precise slashes that crush against his blade without mercy. Each strike is executed with meticulous accuracy, searing for any weaknesses.

But the man in front of you has none.

All it takes him is one minor slash to disarm you. With his other hand, he grabs your wrist tightly. Is he about to kill you? Will this be your last moment walking on earth? You can’t rip your now glossy eyes away from him, can’t even force yourself to look at the moon one last time.

“Who taught you that breathing technique?”

Your mind starts racing, brows furrowing ever so slightly. What is he talking about? And why are you not dead already?

“What?”, you breathe out.

With a swift motion, he puts his sword back in its sheath and grabs your other arm as well, now holding you so close that you can feel his breath dance across your face.

“Who taught you how to use moon breathing?”, he continues visibly aroused.

“I taught myself.”

Confusion, anger and shock roll over his face like a wave while his hands still keep you in place.

Impossible. This means that you mastered sun breathing as well. You, nothing but an average girl with eyes that make it easy to get lost in them. You with that basic sword that doesn’t show a single hint of your abilities.

Do you know what you’re capable of, that you might be a worthy opponent?

Or a mighty demon.

“You need to come with me.”

“Coming with you?”

Your heart now almost pounds out of your chest, arms instinctively fighting for what is dear life. If you go with him, you’ll die. What is his plan? Does he want to torture you, eat you alive? Your usual so collected mind starts falling apart bit by bit with every passing second.

“Stop attacking me”, he warns you.

You fight against his grasp even harder, desperately try to free you from the prison of his arms. You promised Sanemi that you’ll be back before the next training session starts, you promised Mitsuri to braid her hair in the morning. You made so many promises.

And now you might not be able to live up to a single one of them.

“Enough”, the man in front of you grumbles.

One well-placed hit. Then everything goes black.

Kokushibo’s heavy breath hangs in the air, eyes staring at your unconscious figure lying on the floor. He lifts your body off the ground as gently as possible, allows his eyes to regard your face up-close. You look so peaceful while lying in his arms, your features not showing a single sign of your fight earlier on. Apart from a single tear at the corner of your eye, you look flawless. He wipes it away with his index finger, watches how the moonlight reflects so beautifully in your perfect little teardrop. If he’d be able to caress your cheek one time, feel the softness of your hair only once-

He shakes his head ever so slightly. No, he needs to focus on what’s in front of him, needs to find out what lend you that power. Are you just like him? Are you maybe the only person on this planet who understands his silent suffering?

The second you open your eyes again, everything is still black. What happened? Are you at home? The demon…

Your eyes widen in an instant, dart around the poor-lit area in a haste. Where is the upper moon one?

“It took you quite some time to regain consciousness.”

His cold voice cuts through your bones with ease. There he sits, only a few meters away to your opposite. You swallow hard, scan your body for any injuries.

But you aren’t injured. Not even a single scratch decorates your skin.

“Why did you allow me to stay alive?”

To be honest, he doesn’t know. Muzan Kibitsuji made it more than clear that all demons are forced to kill every single demon slayer who crosses their path. Especially pillars like you. He stares at you without saying a single word.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

It is his responsibility to do so. Not even the fact that you use moon breathing should be enough to change that fate of yours, not when you’re a hashira, a dirty demon slayer. Again, he keeps his mouth shut.

When you open your mouth again, not a single sound escapes your dry lips. The countless questions that linger through your mind make it hard to form a logical thought. What are you supposed to do? Is there any way out of this? You need to fight, need to stay strong until you die.

“What do you know about moon breathing?”

“More than you”, he gives back.

He’s beautiful. Despite the unpromising gleam in his orbs and that number one than reminds you oh so urgently that this man is the highest ranked upper moon, you can’t help but let that thought sink in. There’s no doubt in the fact that he was once a truly handsome man.

The two of you sit opposite of each other, plainly staring in your faces without saying another word. You never felt anything apart from sorrow for those creatures, never allowed yourself to get lost in their features or to ponder about what they might have become. But this man…

“Did you use this breathing technique when you were still human?”

In the blink of an eye, the upper moon one draws his sword. Sparks fly, the air around you suddenly so hot that you almost feel like choking. What is that immense power of his? Are those…moons?  Out of instinct, you grab his arm. For support, to stop him? You don’t know anymore.

“Stop”, you cough out.

“Please…stop.”

He lowers his blade, his free hand now grabbing your back and pulling you towards his chest.

“I was the only user of moon breathing for countless centuries. Until you showed up”, he clarifies distantly.

“Tell me how you conquered sun breathing. Tell me how you taught yourself this technique.”

His face is only inches away from yours, forces your breath to get stuck in your throat all over again.

“It just happened.”

“You will come with me.”

He starts dragging you along with him, the unusual flaming touch of his hand almost driving you insane. Just a few hours ago, you were on a mission to free a small village from the cruel hands of a demon. What about those innocent people? What about those poor souls who might get slaughtered at this very moment? You can’t just follow him like a lost puppy.

“Only under one condition.”

Slowly, the upper moon one turns his face towards you.

“You set conditions?”

“Free the village I was assigned to from those demons or otherwise…”

With a swift motion you draw your sword and press it firmly against your very own neck.

“Or otherwise, I’ll make sure I won’t be able to answer all of your questions.”

You find yourself devoured in his arms and pressed against a cool stone wall before you finished blinking once, now staring straight into his dangerous orbs.

“I don’t negotiate with something like that”, he presses out.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @virtual-202 @blunderland

@strawberry784

[buzzinrusso]

Unexplained love

Based on this request, right here!! I'm actually really proud of this one, so enjoy and keep sending in requests!!

---

Leah had always been there. In ways that you sometimes took for granted, she was your constant, your companion in every chapter of your life. The two of you had known each other since childhood—since before you could even properly remember, when your parents pushed you together on playdates, only for you to bond over something as simple as a soccer ball or a shared joke. What started as an accidental friendship slowly blossomed into something unshakeable, a connection that stretched through every phase of your growth.

Your small town, just outside London, wasn’t a place where people could easily hide, and Leah and you had grown up together in that same tight-knit community. There was a park near the edge of town, and countless hours of your childhood were spent there—hours running around in the summer heat, kicking footballs with Leah, creating games that only made sense to the two of you. When it rained, the park became your personal world of imagination, where your “missions” were anything but typical. You’d build forts out of old tree branches, create treasure hunts, and spend hours lying on the grass, staring at clouds and dreaming about things that didn’t seem to matter—until they did...

Through all of this, Leah was never just a friend. She was more than that. She was someone who saw you for exactly who you were. If you had a rough day, Leah would always know before you even said anything. You didn’t need words when Leah was around. Her presence alone was a comfort. Her laugh was the thing that could break any of your bad moods, and when she spoke about her ambitions—her love for football, her dreams of playing at the professional level—it was like everything in the world could fit together perfectly.

“Promise me you’ll never leave?” you asked one summer day, as you both sat side by side on the park bench. You weren’t sure why you asked it then. But something about the moment, the way the sun filtered through the trees, made you voice the fear that had been growing inside you.

Leah’s hand found yours, her grip tight and comforting. “Promise,” she said, her voice steady as ever, “I’ll never leave.” And as a child, you believed that promise, without hesitation.

---

As time passed, however, things inevitably changed. It wasn’t just the shift from childhood to adolescence that marked a difference—it was the shift within yourself. You had begun to notice the way your feelings for Leah had deepened, but you hadn’t understood them yet. You had no idea how to process the shift, how to handle the overwhelming sensation that you felt when Leah stood a little too close or laughed in that way that made your heart do funny flips.

The first sign came when you were thirteen. Leah had always been fiercely competitive—something you admired—and when she started to take football seriously, you saw the intensity in her eyes that you had never noticed before. The practices, the matches, the way she pushed herself—it was as if she was becoming someone else, someone who had her own dreams, her own future. You were proud of her, but something else stirred within you, something you didn’t know how to explain.

It was subtle, a flicker of jealousy at first. When she’d mention a boy from the team or when she’d laugh at Ryan’s jokes (someone you’d never really paid attention to before), it gnawed at you. You tried to brush it off, to dismiss it, but the feelings grew like a tide that was impossible to outrun.

The first time Leah talked about Ryan, it didn’t seem like anything special. He was a teammate, she said, just a guy she’d been getting to know. But then, as the weeks went on, she began talking about him more often. And every time she did, a strange sensation grew inside you. It wasn’t jealousy, or at least you didn’t think it was, because it wasn’t the kind of jealousy you felt when someone took your favorite toy. This felt like something deeper, more visceral.

And then, the first real break came. You were fifteen, sitting in Leah’s room one late evening, when she told you about her first kiss. She didn’t know why it hurt to hear it, but it did. Leah’s voice was light, but there was a strange ache behind it.

“It wasn’t that special,” she said, brushing it off. But the words hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You smiled, though it was a half-smile. “That’s great, Leah. You deserve someone who makes you feel special.”

But you didn’t feel special in that moment. You felt empty, and it took everything inside you to push those feelings back down into a place where they could hide—far away from the world. You had never questioned your feelings for her until that moment, but as she laughed about it, something deep inside you cracked open, and you realized: you wanted to be the one who made Leah feel that special.

---

Things came to a head one night that summer when you were sixteen. It had been building for months, like a storm on the horizon, and neither of you had seen it coming. Leah had been talking about football again, her eyes sparkling with the passion that drove her. But you weren’t listening to her words anymore; you were just listening to the rhythm of her voice, to the way the light from the bedside lamp danced in her hair, and to the soft rise and fall of her breath.

“I think I’m actually going to make the team this year,” Leah said, and you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, because for the first time, you were realizing that you didn’t want to lose her to football. You didn’t want her to leave you behind in her pursuit of greatness. You didn’t want to be the one watching her from the sidelines.

Before you knew it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing hers. It was a soft kiss, barely a touch, but it felt like the world had suddenly shifted. For a split second, everything around you blurred, and there was nothing but Leah and the overwhelming flood of emotion that rushed through you.

Leah pulled back immediately, her face pale. You froze, your mind racing, but your body unable to move. Neither of you spoke at first. You both seemed to be trapped in that moment, unable to do anything but stare at each other, unsure of what had just happened.

“I’m sorry,” Leah whispered quickly, her voice panicked. But the words didn’t seem like an apology, not really. They sounded more like a denial, as if she were trying to erase the moment from existence. And in that silence, you felt the weight of it all—felt the fracture forming between you that neither of you had expected but both of you could now see.

---

The next few days passed in a blur. Neither of you mentioned the kiss, but it was always there, lurking in the back of your minds. Leah seemed to pull away even more, immersing herself in football practices and talking more frequently about Ryan. The distance between the two of you was palpable now—every conversation felt strained, like you were both pretending that everything was the same.

In the meantime, you began to focus on Alex, a boy from school who had started to show an interest in you. At first, it was easy to fall into that relationship—he was sweet, he liked you, and he didn’t make you question everything the way Leah did. When Alex kissed you for the first time, it was nothing like Leah’s kiss, and for a moment, you thought you had found a way to forget. But it was fleeting. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Leah’s face, heard her laugh, and felt the ache in your chest that no one but her could fill.

Leah, too, seemed to move on. She and Ryan started spending more time together, laughing, holding hands, and it felt like a sharp knife twisting in your gut every time you saw them together. You wanted to be happy for her, but you couldn’t. The jealousy, the anger—it all bubbled up inside you in a way that made you sick. She wasn’t supposed to be with him. She was supposed to be with you.

---

It was the night everything finally broke open. The tension had been building for weeks, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore. You couldn’t sit by and watch Leah slip further away from you, especially not when you knew, deep down, that you were both still holding on to something neither of you could acknowledge.

You called her late that evening, asking her to meet you at the park. It felt like the only place you both could truly talk without the weight of the world around you. When she arrived, you could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she avoided looking directly at you. You had been avoiding each other for too long. It was time to confront it.

Leah sat on the swing, pushing herself lightly as she stared down at her feet. The air between you was thick with unspoken words.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, the frustration in your voice barely masked. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why are you with him? Why are you pretending nothing happened between us?”

Leah’s face flushed, and her eyes shot up to meet yours. There was something raw in her gaze, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N,” she said, her voice trembling. “You think this is easy for me?”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you snapped. “I care that you’re pretending. I care that you’re with him when you know how I feel about you. You know I can’t keep doing this. I’m not okay.”

Leah stood up abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not pretending,” she yelled. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what to do!”

The words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating the space between you.

“You don’t fix it by running away!” you shouted back, the anger in your chest rising. “You fix it by facing it! By facing what we both know is true. You can’t keep acting like nothing happened, like nothing changed.”

For a moment, Leah looked lost, her eyes softening, the anger and fear giving way to something else. Slowly, cautiously, she took a step toward you, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

“I don’t know how to make this right,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N.”

And withthose words, everything seemed to shift in that instant. It was as if a dam had broken, and the flood of emotions you both had been holding back came pouring out, unrestrained and raw.

You felt your heart race in your chest as Leah stood there, her eyes full of uncertainty and longing, just as you felt in that moment. The world around you blurred once again, and all the years of friendship, of confusion, of unspoken feelings, suddenly rushed forward. For a second, neither of you moved, standing in the weight of the silence.

"I never knew how to tell you," Leah whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind rustling the trees around you. "I thought I could just ignore it, just focus on football, focus on anything but us. But I couldn't. I still can’t."

You stepped forward, your breath catching as you tried to process what she was saying. You had always known something was between you two—something deeper, something that you couldn’t explain even to yourself. But hearing her admit it, hearing Leah say she had been holding onto the same feelings, broke something open inside you.

"You’ve always been everything to me, Leah," you replied, the words tumbling out of you, honest and without hesitation. "And I... I’ve been too afraid to tell you. To ruin what we have, what we’ve always had."

Leah took another step closer, her face so close now that you could feel the warmth of her skin, her breath mingling with yours. There was no more distance between you, no more hiding. You could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the same fear that mirrored your own.

"I didn’t want to ruin us either," she said softly, her voice shaking slightly. "But I think... I think we've already ruined it. We've been lying to ourselves for so long, pretending that we don’t feel this way. And I can't do that anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat. "So, what do we do now?"

Leah’s hand reached out, brushing against your cheek gently, her touch soft but electrifying. "I don't know," she whispered, "but I think we should stop pretending. Stop running away from this."

And in that moment, there was no more pretending, no more fear. You could see it in her eyes—this was real. The feelings you’d both buried for so long had finally surfaced, and there was no turning back. There was no more question of whether it was okay to love each other in this way.

Without another word, Leah leaned in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that was tender, slow, and full of everything you had both been too afraid to say. The world around you seemed to fade away, the years of friendship and the years of longing collapsing into something undeniable. This was the moment you’d both been waiting for.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, both of you stood there, your foreheads resting against each other, both a little dazed by what had just happened. The awkwardness that had filled the space between you for weeks was gone, replaced by an undeniable sense of clarity.

"I don’t know how we move forward," you said, still a little shaken. "But I know we can figure it out. Together."

Leah nodded, her hand brushing against your arm as if confirming that, yes, you were in this together now. "I want to figure it out. I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted that."

The reality of it all settled in, and even though neither of you knew exactly what the future would hold, for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like an impossible distance between you. It felt like a beginning. A new chapter.

---

The weeks that followed were filled with challenges, as both of you navigated this new dynamic in your friendship and relationship. The first time you held hands in public was nerve-wracking. You had spent so many years walking side by side without thinking twice about it, but now every touch seemed loaded with meaning. You learned quickly that no one could understand the complexity of what you were going through unless they had been through it themselves.

Leah and you spent hours talking about everything—your feelings, your fears, your hopes for the future. There were times when it felt like the whole world was against you, as if your connection was something so rare and fragile that it could slip away in an instant. There were people who didn’t understand, people who made assumptions or doubted your bond. But it didn’t matter. You knew that what you shared was real, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

Football was still a big part of Leah’s life. She threw herself into it with all the passion and drive she had always had. But now, you were there with her, standing on the sidelines, cheering her on—not just as her friend, but as someone who saw her in a new light. You were proud of her. Proud of her achievements, her strength, and the way she managed to balance her dreams with this new chapter in her life.

You, too, found new ways to grow. No longer hiding from the truth of your feelings, you learned to love yourself alongside loving her. You found strength in your vulnerability, in the openness that came with finally admitting what you both wanted. Sometimes, it was hard, and there were moments where you both doubted yourselves. But the foundation of your relationship was built on years of trust, of shared memories, and a deep, unshakeable connection. That was something neither of you could ignore.

The world around you started to shift, too. You both made new friends, met new people, and began to embrace the future with all the uncertainty it held. It wasn’t always easy—relationships, especially ones like yours, took time, effort, and constant communication. But you were learning how to do it, together.

Leah and you spent many more nights under the stars, just as you had when you were children, talking about everything and nothing. You had both been through so much, and yet, somehow, you knew that the hardest parts were already behind you. It was just a matter of building something new, something that was yours alone.

And in those quiet moments, you found peace in knowing that whatever the future held, you had each other. That was enough. Enough to weather the storms, to face the unknown, and to finally, truly be free to love each other in the way you had always known was meant to be.

---

Years later, when you both looked back on those early days, you couldn’t help but laugh at the way things had unfolded. The confusion, the fear, the uncertainty—all of it had led to this point. You and Leah had grown, individually and together, stronger than either of you could have ever imagined.

Leah’s name was well-known in the football world now, and you had found your own path in a career that fulfilled you. But no matter where life had taken you, Leah had always been there—by your side, the one constant in a world full of changes.

And as you stood on the edge of the field one evening, watching Leah train for an upcoming match, you knew one thing for certain: there was no one else you’d rather face the future with. Your love, built on years of friendship, had become the foundation of everything you were. Together, you were unstoppable.

And that was how you had always meant to be—together.

---

[ghast1yghosts]

i wanna see old musician wayne. someone eddie always thought was cool (when he still had all his hair) growing up. someone who ended up with this sad little kid who needed an outlet and teaching him the basics. the kid falling in love with music.

watching him be something he never could’ve done, he wasn’t good enough, but his boy is good enough, his boy is going places. be it music or otherwise, his boy has a passion he knows it special.

then spring break happens. and his boy’s spark is dimmed, flickering, hanging on by some miracle.

wayne notices. he sees it not just eddie’s aching body, bandaged gashes and sore stitches. he sees it’s not just injuries. his boy doesn’t want to play, not just because he can’t.

he gets a flinch in reply to a question about a guitar. he gets brushed off when he asks if he’s itching to play. he gets sudden distant eyes, and a static reaction when he sets up his record player.

his boy doesn’t heal as fast he should. his boy avoids going out. his boy struggles to get his feet under him, let alone to stand back up.

watching his boy become a husk in front of his eyes. monotone and vacant, he seems checked out without the narcotics.

once brazen and defiant, he’s watching it get snuffed out. and by god if he’s going to stand idle any more. he’s not letting his boy give up on himself like he did.

he avoids the more typical eddie style, and sits down with his acoustic. wayne snagged it when that harrington boy dragged him out of the house the other day, eddie didn’t even notice it’s absence.

it’s been years, far too long, having let eddie take the reins of tight strings over frets all those years ago. he plays something mellow, something by ear, something by heart, something eddie will know.

he’s only playing for a maybe a minute before a curious head peaks out from around the corner, and then a whole body leaning against the wall.

“can’t believe you still know how to play.”

“sound that bad, huh?” eddie snorts, shaking his head slightly, uncrossing his arms and making his way to join on the couch across from wayne.

he starts again from the beginning, playing the old tune from his favorite album, the last one his sister listened to—the last one eddie’s mom listened to.

making room for eddie to join him, he doesn’t hum along, just plays the melody.

the first few seconds go by quiet, just the two of them listening to the gentle strums. eddie starts to mutter the words, tapping his knee to the beat, like he’s unable to kept himself away from the lull of music.

steady rhythm, eddie closes his eyes, bashfulness at softly singing or falling right into wayne’s obvious trap it doesn’t really matter. his boy starts to bounce his foot, body thrumming with the noise.

“but listen carefully to the sound,

of your loneliness,”

he looks at home, a nice picture to the empty shell he seems to be. he’s still there, just hiding himself, feeling far too exposed, to open. it’s not the first time wayne’s had to crack the shell he locks himself away in.

a bit rusty and corse, wayne joins him.

and for what it’s worth—the small smile that breaks across his face—it’s worth millions to him.

“thunder only happens when it's rainin'”

he’ll keep playing if his boy can’t. he’ll keep playing for his boy. till his fingers bleed, till he’s at deaths door, it doesn’t matter.

and whether eddie adds more kindle to his flame or not, wayne isn’t letting it get smothered any time soon.

[xveenusx]

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8.  Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in. 

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents. 

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me. 

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me. 

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince. 

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him. 

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding? 

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out? 

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned. 

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him. 

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older. 

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing. 

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention? 

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing. 

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance. 

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question. 

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway. 

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts. 

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me? 

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe. 

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different. 

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter. 

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too. 

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually. 

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move. 

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away. 

“Not right now, Kells.” 

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe. 

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe. 

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him. 

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead. 

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up. 

Topper coughs. “Sophia.” 

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move. 

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor. 

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor. 

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation. 

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open. 

He’s high. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me. 

Dying would be less painful.

 I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but. 

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal. 

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel. 

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical. 

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder. 

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask. 

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.” 

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away. 

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.” 

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed. 

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small. 

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.” 

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels. 

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything. 

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all. 

 “No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused. 

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change. 

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room. 

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low. 

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place. 

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought. 

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it. 

I loved him once too. 

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.” 

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating. 

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes. 

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats. 

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again. 

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.” 

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

 “I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.” 

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?” 

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all. 

“Friday.” 

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.” 

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

 “Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even. 

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé. 

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

 “You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger. 

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.” 

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic. 

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

 “This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex. 

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.” 

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain. 

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic. 

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble. 

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms. 

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them. 

“You promised me we’d never end.” 

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off. 

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see. 

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him. 

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. 

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.” 

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.” 

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve. 

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me. 

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

 Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

 He had me. Then he lost me. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to.  But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

[multific]

In The Shadows

Count Orlok x Reader

Summary: He was in your dreams, but little did you know he watched you dream.

Under the cover of darkness, the village slept, unaware of the shadow that crept amongst the people.

Count Orlok had grown restless in his castle, seeking more than just blood, he sought something, someone, to fill the void that centuries had carved into his rotting body.

That night, as the pale moon cast its cold glow over the rooftops, he moved silently through the streets.

Houses stood in rows, their wooden doors shut tight. Hoping to keep out the monsters.

It was here, in the heart of the village, that he found you.

Through an open window, Orlok saw you asleep.

Bathed in the light of the moon, your peaceful form captivated him. He hadn’t meant to linger, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Something about you stirred an emotion he had long forgotten, possessive longing.

From that night on, he returned each evening, standing in the shadows of your room as you slept, feeding his obsession with your presence.

He watched you as you slept.

One night, the air was different.

As he stood near your window, you stirred in your sleep.

A floorboard creaked beneath his feet, and your eyes opened. You sensed something in the darkness, a presence that made your heart race.

Your eyes searched for something in the dark.

“Who’s there?” you whispered into the night. You wished your voice was even.

The Count remained silent, frozen in place.

He didn’t want you to see him yet, not like this.

When you rose from your bed and began to move toward the window, he vanished into the night, leaving you with nothing but the cold wind and an unshakable sense of being watched.

In the upcoming nights, you felt his presence more but you never saw him.

No matter how tightly you closed the shutters or how bright the candles burned, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were never truly alone.

Dreams of a pale figure in shadows haunted your sleep.

One evening, he stood at the edge of your dreams, his patience now thin.

He could no longer bear the distance.

With his powers, he summoned you, drawing you toward him like a moth to a flame.

As if in a trance, you rose from your bed and made your way through the forest, the wind whispering his name as the castle appeared ahead.

When you entered the great hall, the chill of the night air made your skin cold.

This is when you wake up.

You looked around, heart pounding, until your eyes met his.

Count Orlok stepped from the shadows, his figure towering over you, his pale eyes gleaming with something otherworldly.

“You... It was you all along.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low. “I have watched you. I waited for you.”

Instead of fear, you felt something else, something you couldn't explain.

“I dreamed of you,” you confessed, stepping closer to him. “I saw you in my sleep, every night.”

You could see in his eyes eyes he didn't believe you.

He had expected resistance, terror perhaps a chase, but not this.

“I didn’t come here unwillingly,” you continued. “I came because... I wanted to.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his pale features before he composed himself.

“You are not afraid of me?”

“I should be,” you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. “But I’m not. I don’t know why, but something draws me to you.”

Orlok stepped closer, his cold hand brushing against your cheek.

For centuries, he had known nothing but darkness and hunger, yet here you stood, offering him something more special.

“Then stay with me. Be mine, and I shall be yours.”

You smiled at him.

Such a sweet and innocent smile.

Days passed in a blur of strange, dark bliss. Though the sun rose and set beyond the castle walls, time seemed irrelevant on the inside.

You and Orlok grew closer with each passing night.

He showed you hidden chambers and ancient halls, sharing the secrets of his world. In turn, you brought warmth to his long-dead heart and a smile something he was not accustomed to.

Then came the night of your union.

The grand hall was transformed into a place of dark beauty.

Black and crimson drapes adorned the walls, and flickering candles cast shadows across the stone floor.

You wore a gown which was deep red, the fabric shimmering like blood in the light.

It was perfect. You looked like exactly what you were, the bride of a vampire.

The Count stood, waiting for you.

His usual dark cloak was replaced by formal attire—still black, but adorned with silver embroidery.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that made your breath stop.

As you approached, he extended his hand, cold yet comforting.

You placed your hand in his, and together, you stood before the ancient altar.

The altar stood in the gardens, dark, cold and foggy. But the wind didn't reach your skin.

“Do you vow to be mine for all eternity?" even for him it was hard to hide happiness.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice steady, no hesitation. You knew you wanted nothing more.

“And I vow to be yours,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “For as long as the night exists, for as long as shadows fall, I shall love you.”

With those words, he bent down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

It was a kiss that sealed not just a union, but a promise, a promise of love that defied time and death.

In that dark castle, under the gaze of the moon, you and Count Orlok began a new chapter. Together, you would face the world, two souls bound by fate, by love, by the night and by blood.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[meazalykov]

cherished birthday

ewa pajor x reader

the best birthday of your life, and you are happy that she is here with you for it

in honor of my twentieth birthday being yesterday <3

growing up, birthdays weren’t much of a thing in your house. 

there were never any balloons tied to the dining chairs, no cake adorned with bright candles, no presents stacked in colorful wrapping paper. maybe there’d be a hurried "happy birthday" tossed your way in passing, but even that was rare. 

most years, it was just another day, and you’d long since learned not to expect anything different. 

so, you grew up pretending it didn’t matter.  

when you met ewa, she’d asked you about your birthday once, early in your relationship.  

"what do you usually like to do for it?" she’d asked casually, her hands busy tying her shoelaces before practice.  

you stood over her, remembering when ewa still played in your old city of wolfsburg..

you’d shrugged at her question. 

"nothing special."  

"nothing at all?" her eyebrows furrowed slightly. for a moment, you thought she might press further.  

"yeah, it’s not a big deal," you’d said, brushing it off with a nonchalance you had perfected over the years. ewa left it at that, maybe sensing the wall you’d put up around the topic.  

the truth was, it did matter. it mattered in ways you hated admitting, even to yourself. every year, like clockwork, a small, hollow ache would settle in your chest as the date crept closer. you’d see pictures of other people’s birthdays online…friends being showered with love, cakes topped with sparklers, laughter, and parties that seemed endless everytime you sat in the corner at one of them. 

every year, you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you. you’d remind yourself you weren’t the kind of person who needed that kind of attention.  

ewa didn’t know any of this. not about the way your heart twisted a little when someone casually mentioned their birthday plans, or the fleeting envy you felt when her teammates threw each other surprise parties in the locker room. 

you were good at hiding it, at playing it cool.  

that’s how you ended up here, sitting on the bleachers after one of barcelona’s training sessions, sipping water and idly scrolling through your phone while ewa and her teammates cooled down back in the locker rooms. 

it wasn’t until keira plopped down next to you that you realized you weren’t alone.  

"hey," keira said, wiping sweat off her forehead with the edge of her jersey.  

"hey," you replied, glancing up briefly with a small smile.  

she stretched her legs out in front of her, letting out a content sigh. 

"so, ewa says your birthday’s coming up."  

your stomach clenched. 

"oh, uh, yeah. it’s nothing big."  

"she said that too," keira said, giving you a curious look. 

"but she seemed a little confused about why you didn’t want to do anything for it."  

you shrugged, avoiding her gaze. 

"it’s just another day."  

"you sure about that?" keira asked, her tone gentle but probing.  

"yeah," you said quickly, too quickly. you could feel her watching you, and it made you fidget with the cap of your water bottle.  

"y/n," keira started after a moment, leaning back on her elbows, 

"i don’t know what’s going on, but everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. even you."  

the english woman’s words made your throat tighten. 

you stared at the pitch, watching an assistant coach place a few balls back into a large bag.  

"i’ve just… never really celebrated it," you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with the confession.  

keira turned her head to look at you, her expression softening. 

"never?"  

"not really," you muttered, twisting the bottle cap in your hands. 

"my parents… they weren’t the kind of people who made a big deal out of stuff like that. so, i just got used to it."  

keira didn’t say anything right away, letting the weight of your words settle between you. finally, she said, "does ewa know?"  

you shook your head. 

"i’ve never told her. it’s not like it matters anyway."  

keira let out a small huff of disbelief. 

"of course, it matters. you’re with her now, yeah? she’d want to know."  

"maybe," you said softly, your voice barely audible.  

keira nudged your shoulder lightly. 

"just think about it, okay? you deserve to be celebrated. even if it’s something small. let her do that for you."  

five days before your birthday, you were at work, buried in the usual chaos. the sound of the phone ringing, the hum of conversations around you, and the clicking of keyboards filled the air. 

you moved through your day, keeping busy to distract yourself from the fact that your 29th birthday was right around the corner. birthdays had never been much to you, just a day that came and went like any other. 

you convinced yourself it didn’t matter.  

this year, something will be different. unbeknownst to you, ewa was planning something.  

it started after practice.. after you left from talking to keira. you told ewa that you will see her at home and went back to work.. keira approached ewa in the locker room. leaning casually against her locker, keira tilted her head and crossed her arms.  

"ewa, can i talk to you for a second?"  

ewa, in the middle of untying her laces, looked up. 

"sure, what’s up?"  

keira’s tone softened. 

"it’s about y/n’s birthday. have you thought about doing something for her?"  

ewa frowned, straightening up. 

"i’ve asked her about it before. she always says it’s not a big deal."  

"yeah, i know she says that," keira said, 

"but do you really believe her?"  

ewa hesitated. 

"i don’t not. at the same time, i don’t want to push her or her boundaries if she’s not comfortable."  

keira sighed, sitting down next to ewa. 

"look, i had a conversation with her earlier, and she admitted she’s never really celebrated her birthday. like, ever. i think she downplays it because she’s used to it being ignored. the way she said it though… i also think, deep down, she wants to feel special. she deserves to feel special."  

ewa’s brows knit together, concern flickering in her eyes. 

"are you sure?"  

"trust me," keira said firmly. 

"a small celebration with people who care about her? it’ll mean the world to her, even if she pretends it doesn’t."  

ewa nodded slowly, her mind already spinning with ideas. 

"okay. i’ll do it. i’ll make it special for her."  

that evening, while you were still busy at work, ewa began planning. the first thing she did was call your mutual friends back in wolfsburg.  

"you want us to come to barcelona?" alex popp asked, her voice light through the phone.  

"yes," ewa said. 

"it’s y/n’s birthday soon, and i want to surprise her."  

"of course, i’m in!" alex said enthusiastically.  

"me too," lynn chimed in when ewa called her. 

"you know i’d never miss it."  

with the guest list set, ewa turned her attention to the details. she ordered an ice cream cake…your absolute favorite…and spent hours picking out decorations that were simple yet elegant for an upcoming 29 year old. 

she also started shopping for presents, determined to spoil you despite knowing your friends would bring gifts as well.  

throughout the week, ewa coordinated everything while keeping it a secret from you. she hid her phone conversations and made sure you didn’t catch on to her plans. 

you, on the other hand, were completely oblivious. you’d convinced yourself that your birthday would be just another ordinary day. but keira’s words lingered in the back of your mind: 

everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. 

so, you decided to do something small for yourself this year. just a little treat.  

finally, your birthday arrived. 

you woke up to the soft warmth of ewa’s arms around you, her voice a gentle murmur in your ear.  

"wszystkiego najlepszego, kochanie," she whispered, pressing light kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips.  

your heart fluttered at the sound of her voice, and you smiled sleepily. 

"thank you."  

ewa watched as you stretched and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the woman’s eyes trailed down your naked back..

when you started to get out of bed, she frowned.  

"where are you going?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.  

"i have a few appointments," you said casually, pulling on a pair of slippers.  

ewa blinked, confused. 

"appointments? on your birthday?"  

"yeah," you said, avoiding her gaze. 

"not for work… just a pedicure, manicure, and a massage for myself. nothing big."  

ewa’s confusion melted into a warm smile.

"you’re treating yourself?"  

you nodded, feeling a little shy.

"i guess i’m just trying to be nicer to myself this year."  

ewa reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. 

"i’m proud of you, love."  

you smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

"thanks. i’ll be back around five, okay?"  

"perfect," ewa said, her heart racing as she realized how perfectly your schedule lined up with her plans. almost afraid that your plans would have jeopardized the surprise party. 

as soon as you left, ewa started putting things together. by the time five o’clock rolled around, the house was completely transformed. balloons in your favorite colors floated around the dining room, and a banner reading "happy birthday" hung across the wall. 

the beautiful ice cream cake sat in the fridge, ready for its big reveal.  

your friends from wolfsburg had arrived earlier in the day, along with some of ewa’s barcelona teammates. keira, kika, esmee, caroline, ingrid, lynn, and alex were all there, mingling and laughing as they waited for your return.  

some of your non-footballer friends were here as well, waiting to see their special friend. 

when you finally walked through the door, you noticed the lights were off, but a few stray balloons caught your attention. 

you frowned, stepping further inside.  

"ewa?" you called out, your voice hesitant.  

suddenly, the lights flickered on, and a chorus of voices shouted, "surprise!"  

you froze, your eyes widening as you took in the scene. the dining room was filled with people…your friends from wolfsburg, ewa’s barcelona teammates, and even caroline and ingrid, who you've known forever since they played with ewa at both of her clubs.  

"happy birthday!" alex said, pulling you into a tight hug.  

"you didn’t think we’d let you have a boring birthday, did you?" lynn teased, the dutch grinning ear to ear.  

"what… how…?" you stammered, overwhelmed by the sight of so many familiar faces.  

ewa appeared by your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"i wanted to do something special for you. you deserve it."  

tears pricked your eyes as you looked around the room, the warmth and love radiating from everyone filling your chest.  

the evening was nothing short of magical. you laughed until your sides hurt, danced with ewa and your friends, and even got competitive during an intense round of uno. when it was time for the cake, you closed your eyes and made a wish, the warmth in your chest spreading as everyone sang "happy birthday" to you.  

by the end of the night, after everyone had left around 2 a.m., you sat on the couch with ewa, tears streaming down your face.  

"thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.  

ewa cupped your face in her hands, her eyes soft and full of love. 

"you deserve to be celebrated, kochanie. i hope this year brings you nothing but happiness."  

she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. 

"happy 29th, my love."  

you smiled through your tears, your heart fuller than it had ever been. 

masterlist

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #53 - Adorable]

"When Jungkook is so cute by merely exisiting."

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: she thinks that he is the cutest, which he is <3, a cute sushi date with a beach walk afterwards, she bites his nose <3, he is also a lil shit because let's be honest he is, and we all love him so much for it <3, one (1) mention of suggestive themes

Wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: this is inspired by this gifset 🧡 i just love his lil pout and pretty eyes so much :( also, please bear with me. you besties are gonna get longer stories again. christmas time at work is just very stressful and time consuming and i rarely have energy to write :(

Jungkook is minding his own business. He is living his own life, enjoying the moment, existing. And you can’t take your eyes off of him. He isn’t even doing anything. He is merely and simply existing and you still think that he is the most adorable and handsome person that ever existed and ever will exist. 

He is wearing a white, oversized long arm shirt today, combining a black bucket hat with it. His bangs cover his forehead and his face carries no makeup. He is entirely comfortable with his look. It is simple, but you think that he is a work of art.  

You and he are currently on a fun and relaxing date to a costal restaurant. The theme of the restaurant is local fish and the chef specializes in sushi. She explains each serving in great detail and Jungkook is really enjoying his time here. You have never witnessed him listen so intently and with such attention for such a long time before. Now, don’t misunderstand, this isn’t supposed to be mean. You love him and you also love how easily his attention span can wander. Something as small and simple as a pretty bug by the side of the road can already pull his attention away. Sometimes, even something as simple as a random thought can completely beam him away. You never saw it as a negative trait, but you also have to admit that seeing him so deeply engrossed in sushi knowledge is surprising and wonderful to witness. He pouts his lips without noticing and his eyes are so big in wonder. You just love him so much.  His reactions to the food are almost better. You haven’t laughed that much during lunch in a long time. He is so cute. 

He would definitely whine if he knew that you are calling him cute. He doesn’t like to be called that way (a lie, he likes to tell you. He definitely likes it, you are sure of it). And the thing is? You can’t blame him.  

Jungkook is a strong and muscular man. He is pierced, tattooed and drives a huge Harley. He also knows how to knock someone out with just one punch and the multiple times he had you in his arms and on his cock at the same time are definitely haunting your mind from time to time. Jungkook is just such a Man and he shouldn’t be this cute in your eyes, but he is. He is so tender and beautiful and full of childlike wonder. When he talks to you, he talks in a soft voice and when he holds your hand, he always draws hearts on your skin. He greets and thanks the staff of whatever places you visit and whenever it is possible, he makes their jobs easier by helping out as best as possible.

He is just so warm. Yes, this is how he is. He is warm like a safe hug, warm like hot cocoa, warm like a blanket after a person laid under it for a long time.

And right now, you think that he is unbearably cute in his little outfit with his pretty eyes and pouty lips.

The sushi chef turns her back to you and him again, preparing the next course. Jungkook glances at you from the corner of his eyes. He has been feeling your eyes on him the entire time the chef explained her process. He is starting to get nervous. 

When you don’t seem to want to stop any time soon, he finally speaks up. 

“Is something the matter, my sweetheart?” he asks, turning his head to you and rubbing your back. You and he are sitting next to each other so it is easy to do. 

“I just think that you’re so cute.”

He furrows his brows and pouts, “don’t call me that.”

“I can’t help it. You’re just so…can I bite your nose?”

“No? Why would you wanna bite my nose?” he says genuinely confused and touches his own nose. 

“Because if I don’t get to munch on something soon, I will riot.” 

He pulls a grimace of judgement. 

“You’re a weirdo”, he says and turns his head away. 

“Please?”

“No. Not here”, he whines and then the chef returns with the new course.

The sushi date continues. Jungkook is mesmerised while you are mesmerised by him. How can such a masculine, strong man be so cute? And how will you survive not munching on him?

You and he take a walk by the pier after lunch, holding hands and enjoying the ocean breeze. You snap some pictures by the beach, some together and some of each other. Afterwards it is time for ice cream, which you enjoy sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean. 

“You are looking at me again”, Jungkook says.

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute today.” 

“You know that I could easily bench press you, don’t you?”

“I am aware. I still think that you’re cute. Gosh Kookie, this shirt fits you so well. You’re looking so snuggly.”

You cuddle into him, hugging his waist and resting your cheek on his shoulder. Jungkook drapes his arm around you, smiling shyly. 

“Can I really not bite your nose?” you mumble.

“Why do you wanna bite my nose?”

“Because.” You poke his nose. “No nose has ever nosed as hard as your nose does.”

He scoffs, “okay? Whatever that may mean.”

“It means that I wanna bite your nose. Please?”

“But why? It’s my nose, I need it to breathe.”

“I’m not gonna do it hard. Just a little nibble. Once. Please?” 

“What’s in it for me?”

“A cute nose bite?”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “That’s not convincing.”

“You get to take two bites of my ice cream?”

He squints his eyes, letting out a long, “hmmmmmm.”

“Three bites?” 

“Okay fine, we have a deal.”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so happy”, you exclaim and cup his cheeks to turn his head to you. 

With a racing pulse, you lean closer so you could finally bite his nose. You have wanted to do this ever since this date started. He has such a pretty and biteable nose. You make sure to be as gentle as possible. All you need is for your teeth to feel his nose just once. You don’t want to hurt him. 

Jungkook grumbles in faux annoyance, giving you a pout afterwards.

“Happy?” 

“Very. This was the highlight of my day, seriously.”

He chuckles, “if you say so. Now give me ice cream.”

“There you go.” 

Jungkook practically sucks in your ice cream like a vacuum, leaving you with an empty ice cream cone and an agape mouth.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, “what the hell?”

He chuckles with a full mouth, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You’re so annoying”, you whine, nudging his chest.

“You said three bites. Never said how big they can- ow, ah, brain freeze.”

“Serves you right, you ice cream thieving egg.”

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

I really liked Dipper and his stories, I think I need a Dipper x reader headcanon :)

A/N: YESSESSS DIPPER MY CUTIE PIEEEEE, i love this little one so much i really can’t

Warnings: NONE <333

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Being with Dipper in Gravity Falls means you get to see a side of him that not everyone does. He’s always been curious and brave, but with you, there’s a softer, more vulnerable side that emerges. Dipper isn’t great at grand romantic gestures, but his affection comes through in small, thoughtful ways that show just how much he cares.

He loves going on late-night walks with you through the woods, where the two of you can talk without interruptions. The air is cool, the stars are bright, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. Dipper’s hand will find yours, and though he might start off a little shy, by the end of the walk, he’s holding on like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you are together, Dipper can’t help but smile more. You notice how his eyes light up when you laugh, and he’ll often find excuses to be close to you, whether it’s sitting next to you on the couch or sharing a blanket during a movie. He’s not always the most confident in expressing his feelings, but he’s incredibly genuine when he does. He might awkwardly stumble through a compliment or blush when you catch him staring, but the sincerity in his voice makes it all the more endearing.

Dipper’s protective instincts kick in whenever you’re in a tough situation. He’s always looking out for you, whether it’s offering his jacket when you’re cold or stepping in front of you when things get dangerous. He worries about your safety, but he also trusts you to handle yourself. It’s a balance he’s still figuring out, but he’s always there when you need him.

Sometimes, Dipper will surprise you with little notes or drawings he’s done. He’s not one for grand declarations, but you’ll find a page in his journal where he’s sketched the two of you together or a note that says something like, “You make everything better.” These small, heartfelt gestures mean the world to you because they’re so uniquely him.

Dipper also loves sharing his world with you. He’ll take you to all his favorite spots in Gravity Falls, telling you the stories behind each one. Whether it’s the spot where he solved his first mystery or the place where he goes to think, sharing these places with you feels special to him. It’s like letting you into a part of his heart that he doesn’t show to just anyone.

When you’re both caught up in a mystery, Dipper is laser-focused, but he never forgets to check in with you. He’ll make sure you’re okay, offer you a smile, or squeeze your hand reassuringly. It’s his way of saying that, no matter what, you’re in this together.

In quieter moments, Dipper loves just being close to you. He’ll lean his head on your shoulder while you read together or gently play with your fingers as you talk. He’s not always the most physically affectionate, but when he is, it’s incredibly sweet and tender. You’ve become his safe place, someone he can relax around and be himself with, no matter what’s happening in the world around you.

Dipper may be a bit awkward and uncertain at times, but there’s no doubting the depth of his feelings for you. He’s loyal, caring, and always trying to find ways to make you smile. Being with him is like being on an adventure every day—one filled with love, laughter, and a connection that only grows stronger with time.

[clarkevision]

George Clarkey | Interruptions

Summary: You and George are on a date when you are interrupted

The restaurant was perfect, in that understated way George always seemed to find. Cozy booths lined the walls, each lit with the warm glow of hanging Edison bulbs, and soft jazz music hummed in the background. It wasn’t too fancy, but it wasn’t casual either—just the right amount of charm to make the night feel special.

George sat across from you, his elbow resting on the table, his chin propped in his hand as he gave you that familiar, mischievous smile. His hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t quite managed to tame it before he left the house, and his shirt—simple but fitted—clung just enough to remind you why you couldn’t stop looking at him.

“So,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “did I manage to impress you with my choice of venue? Or are you going to roast me for not picking somewhere with a view of the Thames?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think this place is perfect. Honestly, I’m more impressed you didn’t go for something over-the-top ridiculous. No themed restaurants, no 20-course tasting menus… Who are you, and what have you done with George Clarkey?”

He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his chest. “Wow. I invite you on a romantic evening, and this is how you repay me? Ruthless.”

“Romantic evening, huh?” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “That’s a big claim for someone who picked a place based on its five-star Yelp reviews.”

“Okay, first of all, Yelp doesn’t even exist here. And second, it’s not the restaurant that makes it romantic—it’s me,” he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Sure, George. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter gave way to softer, quieter moments. Between bites of food and sips of wine, you talked about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, places you wanted to visit, the kind of future you dreamed of.

George had a way of making even the smallest things feel important. He listened like every word you said mattered, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression shifting with every twist and turn of the conversation. It was in those moments that you felt the depth of what you had with him—something that went beyond the jokes and banter, something real.

“You know,” he said, his voice lower now, “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“What, dinner?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart started to race.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You. Spending time with you. Just… being with you.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. He always had this way of catching you off guard, saying something so genuine and unexpected that it left you speechless.

“You’re such a sap,” you finally said, but your smile betrayed how much his words had meant to you.

“Only for you,” he said, grinning as he reached across the table to take your hand in his.

By the time the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, the restaurant had begun to empty out, leaving just a handful of tables occupied. The soft hum of the music and the dim lighting made the space feel even more intimate, like the rest of the world had melted away.

As you both stood to leave, George hesitated for a moment, glancing around before looking back at you. “Wait,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I just… I don’t want the night to end yet,” he admitted, stepping closer. “Can we stay a little longer?”

You nodded, unable to hide your smile. “Of course.”

He led you over to a quieter corner of the restaurant, where a small booth sat tucked away from the main floor. The atmosphere felt different now—more private, more charged. As you slid into the booth, George sat beside you instead of across, his leg brushing against yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, George reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said softly.

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second.

You kissed him back, your heart racing as you leaned into him, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer. The world outside seemed to disappear entirely, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, stolen moment.

But then—

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You froze, your lips still inches from George’s, as the unmistakable voice of Arthur Hill cut through the air like a knife.

Slowly, you turned your head to see him standing at the entrance of the restaurant, holding a pint in one hand and wearing a grin so wide it could rival the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your face burning with embarrassment as you pulled away from George.

Arthur, clearly enjoying himself, sauntered over, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Clarkey, mate, you didn’t tell me you were going on a date tonight. Thought we were mates, huh?”

George groaned, running a hand down his face. “Arthur, can you not?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now,” Arthur teased, plopping down on the seat across from you. “You two looked very cozy back there. Don’t let me interrupt—carry on.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you mumbled.

George laughed softly, clearly torn between annoyance and amusement. “Arthur, seriously, can you not ruin this for me?”

“Ruin it? I’m enhancing the moment,” Arthur said, gesturing broadly. “What’s more romantic than a third wheel with excellent commentary?”

You peeked out from behind your hands, shooting him a glare. “You’re the worst.”

“I’ve been told that,” he said, unfazed. “But honestly, I’m happy for you two. Clarkey’s been talking about you non-stop for weeks, so it’s nice to finally see him make a move.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned to George. “You’ve been talking about me?”

George’s face went red, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh… maybe a little.”

Arthur snorted. “A little? Mate, you’ve been practically writing poetry.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” George said, standing up and grabbing Arthur by the arm. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Arthur laughed but didn’t resist as George dragged him toward the door. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you two get back to your little love fest. But just so you know—I’m telling Chris all about this.”

“You do that,” George said, shoving him out the door.

As George returned to the table, his cheeks still faintly pink, you couldn’t help but laugh. “That was… something.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, sitting down beside you again. “Arthur has a talent for showing up at the worst possible moments.”

“It’s fine,” you said, smiling. “Honestly, it’s kind of funny. In a horrifying, mortifying sort of way.”

George grinned, taking your hand in his again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad we had this night. Even with the interruption.”

“Me too,” you said softly, leaning into him.

And as the night went on, you realized that no amount of interruptions could take away from what you had with George. Because even in the most awkward, unexpected moments, he still made you feel like the only person in the world.