#stop with the hate gee

[lacrimae23]

ANOTHER 'FELICITY-HATE' RANT. THERE ARE QUOTES SO DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH READING HATEFUL COMMENTS!!!

[quotes]

"How I hate this moron. It's been a long time since there was such a crappy [i couldn't find accurate translation for English language, sorry. in my native language it is meant to be even more insulting] character in the series."

"did you know that the actress playing that whiney felicity is only 24 years old? i would give her at least 30 some"

"Best Arrow ending so far. I was moved. It was just too good to be true. Our dear Felicity is finally up out of her wheelchair and walking on her own. She will finally be able to fall down the stairs and break her neck."

"- Oliver really needs to start killing people again.  - Starting with Felicity."

"THIS FELICITY IS THE WORST CHARACTER I HAVE EVER WATCHED SERIOUSLY AND THE ACTOR IS A COMPLETE WOOD" "Felicity's character used to be pretty cool, but after the last episode even I wouldn't mind if she flew out the window"

[quotes]

just a few "lighter" examples from my own playground (Arrow fandom from my country) (i knew i shouldn't even visit this website with films/tv shows and its Arrow page. i know this part of this website's community all too well) and i'm sorry because i usually try not to generalize but all of this was written by men of course (and i know this; in my language you're using form of verb which indicates your sex) and some other person wrote something which in this particular case i agree with: "why nobody likes felicity" thread

"Because she helped defeat Slade and that's basically where it started. HOW DARE an IT girl in a ponytail and stilettos have the nerve to humiliate the great Deathstroak like that. She started to be hated when she became more independent and strong. Annoying when her opinion actually mattered and her decisions affected the plot and the main character. And already when she put HER in the first place for the first time is already a chapel. This is no accident. Still too many guys feel threatened by "strong female characters" and that's the problem. And it's that kind of strong, in a way that can be applied more to "real" life."

there are maaanyy reasons why people can hate felicity (or every other character) but i think that in the most part these are the guys who don't like a strong female character, who actually has an opinion that affects the plot, her opinion counts, oliver or/and digg [so men of the show] listen to her opinion etc. it's somehow wrong, right? she should be just 'nerding in the corner' or something. and she's not a human being, so she's not entitled to human emotions. [BAN EMOTIONS!] she also can't make mistake, right? right.

and i know that in season 4 we can have strongly different opinions about the break up [i think we ALL can at least agree that this drama was so unnecessary ech] but i saw all too many men just hating on felicity because HOW DARE SHE DUMP A MAN WHO DIDN'T TELL HER ABOUT HIS SON KEPT SECRETS FROM HER LIED TO HER FACE FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS DIDN'T LEAN ON HER WANTED TO LIVE ON AN ISLAND ALL OVER AGAIN - ALONE [...] HOW DARE SHE, STUPID WOMAN! yeah, so there's no 'okay, so i don't agree with her, but maybe she has her point. maybe he hurt her, maybe she couldn't be with him after that. or maybe she just run, because she was scared, or maybe she wanted partnership from him, she wanted to be a team [...], or maybe she's just a human and-blah blah blah". NO! she's stupid, how dare she, but at the same time - it's kinda good because now writers can un-alive her somehow, and show will be great again! yupi!

yeah, so amazing

so when i did this GIGANTIC rant yesterday or- when i wrote this rant, again? doesn't matter, anyway- i was writing about this kind of hate. maybe less insults and more "i think she shouldn't leave him because-[...] and it affects my opinion of her- blah bla blah something-something" and i would be cool with it even if felicity is your least favourite character of the series. it's cool! you don't have to love her, you don't have to like her or tolerate her, but stop hating like t h a t

//also, i wanted to apologise for the sound of my rants. i know they can be "passive-aggressive" and sarcastic (can't help myself, sorry) but i saw this hate too many times and had bottling everything up in me and now i just can't help it and be a little too much on the offensive[??] sorry about that, really. all of this is just frustrating. so sorry

AND I KNOW I SHOULDN'T BE DOING THIS TO MYSELF AND READING ALL THESE COMMENTS BUT SOMETIMES MY EYES DISCONNECT FROM MY BRAIN OR SOMETHING OR MAYBE I'M A MASOCHIST IDK nevertheless, these comments exist, and this knowledge is sad for me, welp

stay safe, stay strong 💜

[constantvariations]

Thinking about making the intro to my Adam essay a comparison to Dragon Age's Anders/blood mages. Pray that I can keep focused and not go on tangents about the Everything

[wasch-lappen]

I wish at this point people would just tell me they hate my opinion because I'm tired of a conversation just completely stopping dead in its tracks and after some time continuing as if I hadn't said anything.

What is it??? What did I do wrong this time?? You can tell me, I am used to doing stupid shit all the time!!!!!

And people dont understand why I assume I'm annoying to everyone and it would be no different to them if I just disappeared

[windamp]

if you need to turn to ableism and inspiration porn jerkoffery in your post arguing about this or that maybe your argument actually just sucks

the thing is, you can make the of kind arguments i've seen on tumblr.com without being an ableist shitheel but it seems very few actually wants to do that lmfao

[kenzie-ann27]

2 and 6 for the ask game :)

oh, hello ! thank you for the ask

2. Album of the year?

I have a few albums from this year that I really liked, but cracker island from gorillaz was just so good, like every song on that album is amazing. I also liked the ballad of darren from blur and the first two pages of frankenstein from the national (their other album this year was just okay tbh).

6. Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

twitter would hate me if I said I genuinely liked this season of succession, but I did. I appreciated the lack of sex scenes, sue me.

if I had to pick an episode that defines the year for me... probably the finale. emotionally and mentally and physically I am kendall sitting alone on that bench, forever going down as just a nobody despite so much effort and desire to do that one thing. yeah, that was this year for me.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 1

☆⁠ HEADCANON : He was just living his life when put of nowhere an alien girl cling to his arms and start following him around...

☆⁠ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark didn’t see you coming. One second, he was standing in the middle of a battlefield, panting, body aching from the fight, hands still slick with blood that wasn’t his. The next second, there you were, stepping out of the shadows like some ethereal creature, all glowing skin and impossibly long hair that cascaded over your body, shielding you like a silk curtain.

Mark thought you were scared. You looked fragile, standing there barefoot, naked yet somehow untouched by the carnage around you. He was about to ask if you were okay when you moved—graceful, slow, head tilting to the side like a curious cat.

Then, your soft fingers brushed his blood-streaked face.

You murmured something—words he couldn’t understand, a language that sounded like whispers and echoes in his ears. And then, with all the trust of a child, you leaned against his chest, pressing your face into him like he was some kind of anchor in this violent world.

Mark froze.

What the hell was happening?

And then, you clung to his arm like a koala, looking up at him with wide, fascinated eyes.

Mark had no idea what to do with you, but you weren’t giving him a choice.

You refused to let go, practically draping yourself over his arm as he stumbled his way back home. His mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw you—her reaction a mix of "Oh my god, why is there a naked girl in my house?" and "Mark, what the hell did you do?"

"Mom, I swear I don’t know what’s happening!"

You, meanwhile, just looked around the house like it was the most interesting thing in the universe. You poked at the couch, stared at the TV, then climbed onto the kitchen counter and perched there like a bird, blinking at them.

Debbie sighed, rubbing her temples.

"Mark. Explain."

He couldn’t. But after a lot of fumbling (and covering your body with his hoodie, which you hated because it felt weird), he managed to get out the basics—he had no clue who you were, where you came from, or why you were so attached to him.

You just sat there, listening, then suddenly spoke in that broken, childlike way of yours:

"You... kill. I like."

Debbie paled.

Mark choked.

"Oh my god—Mom, she doesn’t mean it like that!"

Living with you was... an experience.

For starters, you didn’t understand clothes. You hated them. Every time Mark turned around, you’d somehow gotten rid of his hoodie again, leaving you naked and unbothered.

"You need to wear something," he groaned, shoving his oversized T-shirt over your head.

You frowned, tugging at the fabric like it personally offended you.

"Feel bad. Skin... not like."

"Yeah, well, people don’t just walk around naked!"

"Why?"

"Because—it’s—!" He groaned. "Because it’s not normal!"

"...I am not human."

He blinked. Well, yeah, you had a point.

Then there was the affection.

You had zero concept of personal space.

You liked to lick him. For some godforsaken reason, you’d decided licking was a perfectly acceptable form of communication.

"STOP THAT!"

"Tastes... good."

"You don’t just—!" He wiped his face, groaning.

You also bit him. Soft little nibbles on his arm, his shoulder, his ear, like you were testing how breakable he was.

"You are... soft. Not strong."

"Gee, thanks."

And sitting? You didn’t just sit near him. No, you sat on him. On his lap, on his back, wherever you felt like. He had to physically pry you off sometimes.

And the worst part? You had no idea how attractive you were.

You were practically a walking wet dream—long, silky hair, an impossibly perfect body, and this innocent way of touching him that was definitely not innocent.

And you had no clue. None.

Amber took one look at you and decided she hated you.

And well... you hated her too.

The first time Amber put a hand on his arm, you straight-up tried to kill her.

“YOU CAN’T JUST KILL HER!”

"She touch." Your eerie, beautiful face was dead serious. "She want take. I no let."

Mark wanted to die.

"She’s my girlfriend!" he hissed.

Mark had to sit you down and explain what a girlfriend was.

You did not like it.

"Girlfriend? You Mark female?"

"Well, yeah."

You squinted. Stared at her. "…You weak."

“EXCUSE ME!?”

You nodded, completely serious. "Not strong. Not fast. Not smart. No fly. No fight. Not pretty. You ugly."

Amber shot Mark a glare. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU BRING HOME?!"

Mark dragged you away before you could start a fight.

You pouted. "She not good. She touch you."

"That’s what girlfriends do!"

"...You are mine."

Mark choked.

"No, I—No, I’m not!"

You blinked at him, looking utterly confused. "You are not... mine?"

"NO."

"...Why?"

Oh god, he needed a drink.

You’re Scary Sometimes

For all your innocence, you were still a Qu. A god-like being that viewed others as nothing more than ants.

And sometimes, it showed.

It started small.

A man touched his shoulder. Grabbed it.

Mark barely had time to register it before you lifted your hand, eyes dark and unblinking—

And the guy screamed.

His body convulsed. Twisted. His fingers elongated, skin peeling away as new, foreign muscle formed underneath. His eyes bulged, then split, spreading across his forehead like something from a horror movie.

By the time it was over, the man was not a man anymore.

He collapsed, shaking, his new limbs twitching in confusion.

Mark’s stomach dropped. "What the fuck?!"

You blinked at him, tilting your head like a confused child. "...Touch you."

"THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU TURN HIM INTO A—A—WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT IS!"

Your lips wobbled. You pouted, shoulders hunching like a scolded puppy.

Mark groaned, running a hand down his face. "Oh my God. You can’t do that to people just because they touch me."

"But... mine."

Mark felt his brain short-circuit. "...What?"

You curled up, pressing your face into his chest. "You... mate. Mine."

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Or the other time Mark found you kneeling over a man in an alley.

His body was trembling, eyes wide with horror, and you were just staring down at him, hand on his forehead, eyes blank.

"What are you doing?" Mark shouted.

You turned to him slowly. "I... fix."

"...Fix what?"

"He was... bad. I change him."

The man sobbed.

Mark dragged you away before he could find out what the hell you meant by "change."

Mark didn’t realize how much he cared about you until Amber dumped him.

He was crushed, sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like absolute shit.

Then you climbed into his lap.

He barely had time to react before your soft lips pressed against his.

He stiffened. "Wh—?"

You kissed him again, warm and slow, like you were tasting something new.

"You are sad," you whispered. "In movie, this... makes better."

He swallowed. "It’s not that simple."

You tilted your head. "I like you."

His heart stopped.

"...You do?"

You nodded, wrapping yourself around him like a living blanket.

"You are mine?"

This time, he didn’t say no.

Mark sat there, your warmth pressed against him, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You looked up at him with those unreadable, almost otherworldly eyes—eyes that had seen things he couldn't even begin to imagine.

He should have pulled away. He should have.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against yours. "You don’t really understand what love is, do you?"

You blinked, tilting your head in that way you always did when you were thinking. "...No."

"Then why do you like me?"

You hummed, considering, then slowly pressed a hand to his chest. "You... interesting. I watch. You fight. You... strong."

That made him snort. "You literally see me as a pet project, huh?"

You nodded. Dead serious.

He laughed. It wasn’t bitter this time, wasn’t weighed down with heartbreak. Somehow, you always had this way of distracting him, of making the world feel like something less heavy.

And then, as if you hadn’t just kissed him and staked your claim, you curled up against him, burying your face in his neck.

Mark stiffened.

"...You’re really affectionate, huh?"

You hummed. "Like... touch. Warm."

Oh, he was so screwed.

Mark thought living with you was weird before.

Now? Now it was a full-on disaster.

Because before, you were just a weird, beautiful alien girl who clung to him and had no concept of personal space. But now, you thought you were his.

Which meant you took full advantage.

You never let him sleep alone anymore. It didn’t matter where he was—his bed, the couch, even the floor—you would find him and drape yourself over him like a human-sized cat.

Clothes? Still a big no. You refused to wear anything besides his shirt. Which meant Mark spent half his time panicking whenever his mom walked into the room.

You licked him. Still. All the time. He’d be eating? Lick. Talking? Lick. Taking off his shirt after training? Lick.

"STOP THAT!"

"Taste... good."

"I AM NOT FOOD!"

But the worst part?

You still had no idea what was appropriate or not.

Like the time you walked into the shower.

Mark had never screamed so loudly in his life.

You just blinked at him, completely unbothered, and sat on the edge of the tub, staring at him with zero shame.

"You... hide body?"

"YES, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO!"

"...Why?"

"BECAUSE IT’S WEIRD TO BE NAKED TOGETHER!"

You stared at him like he was speaking nonsense. "We are always naked together."

His soul left his body.

"...Get out."

"No."

"GET OUT!"

Mark was pretty sure nothing in his life had been more frustrating than trying to explain dating to you.

"It’s... you know, it’s when two people like each other and decide to be together."

You nodded, fascinated. "And then... kill?"

"...No. No killing."

You frowned, disappointed.

He sighed. "It’s about love."

You blinked. "What love?"

He opened his mouth, then froze.

Holy shit, how was he supposed to define love?

"Uh... it’s... it’s when you care about someone more than anyone else," he tried, scratching the back of his head. "You want them to be happy. You want to be with them. You feel safe with them."

You considered, tilting your head. "I feel that with you."

Mark’s breath caught.

You said it so casually. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was just... obvious.

"...You do?"

You nodded, then climbed into his lap, straddling him. "So... we date?"

His brain short-circuited.

"N-No! That’s not how—!" He groaned, face burning. "You don’t just sit on someone’s lap and say that!"

You pouted. "Why not?"

"Because—it’s—!"

He gave up. There was no winning with you.

Cecil already didn’t trust you.

And then you had to go and prove why.

Mark was at GDA headquarters when Cecil’s men dragged in a criminal. A guy who’d murdered at least thirty people.

You watched him. Quiet, blank, calculating.

Then, before anyone could stop you, you walked up to him, pressed a hand to his forehead—

And changed him.

Right in front of everyone.

Mark watched it happen. Watched the man’s entire personality shift, his eyes go blank for a second before filling with something new.

When you stepped back, he fell to his knees, sobbing.

"I... I’m sorry," the man whispered, voice shaking. "I don’t—I don’t want to hurt anyone—"

Mark stared at you, horrified. "What did you do?"

You blinked. "Fix."

Cecil looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"She rewired his fucking brain," he hissed.

Mark turned to you. "You—you can’t just do that!"

"Why?"

"BECAUSE IT’S NOT—" He stopped. Struggled. "Because it’s not right!"

You just tilted your head, like a child being scolded.

He groaned.

Mark didn’t realize when it happened.

Maybe it was the way you always curled up against him, completely at ease.

Maybe it was the way you protected him without hesitation, despite seeing him as weak.

Maybe it was the way you said his name—not like you were calling him, but like you were claiming him.

Or maybe it was the way you looked at him.

Like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered.

And when he finally kissed you—really kissed you—you made the softest noise, melting into him, fingers tangling in his hair.

"You are... mine?" you whispered against his lips.

He exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I’m yours."

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 2. Part 3.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[harrysfolklore]

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

[megumismyhusband]

Heyo! Just saw your recent post and could u kindly do sassy blue lock men and a sassier s/o 🥺 imagine them just bantering 24/7

heloo!! i love this request oh em gee😖 also if u want more don’t be afraid to ask!!!

Isagi

You sat across from Isagi at a café, both sipping your drinks. He looked up, eyebrows raised, as you scrolled through your phone.

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” he said, mock-offended.

“Maybe because you’re not interesting,” you replied without missing a beat.

“Excuse me? I’m literally the most interesting person you know.”

“You think ‘Yoichi Isagi, professional soccer player’ is a personality?” you shot back, smirking.

He gawked at you, then leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet here you are, sitting with me instead of practicing.”

“Okay, you win this one,” he muttered, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup.

“Like I ever lose,” you teased, sticking out your tongue.

Rin

“You know, for someone who says they hate distractions, you sure let me ruin your focus all the time,” you said, leaning casually against the wall of Rin’s training room.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rin replied, not even looking up as he wiped sweat off his brow. “You’re more like… background noise.”

“Wow, it must be exhausting being this delusional,” you said with a mock-pitying tone.

He finally looked at you, eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who barged in here just to talk. What does that say about you?”

“That you secretly enjoy my company but are too emotionally stunted to admit it,” you replied with a grin.

Rin stared at you for a moment, then clicked his tongue. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re so predictable,” you shot back. “Now hurry up. I’m bored, and you owe me dinner.”

Nagi

You were trying to tidy up the living room when you tripped over something—Nagi’s ridiculously long limbs, sprawled across the floor as he napped.

“Seishiro!” you shouted, poking him with your foot.

“Hm? What?” he mumbled, barely opening his eyes.

“You’re literally in the middle of the room! Why are you like this?”

“It’s comfy,” he said, turning onto his side. “Why are you yelling so much? You’re so noisy.”

“You’re so lazy!” you retorted, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Lazy, but still better at everything than you.”

“Oh, really? Try being better at cleaning.”

“Pass.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, plopping down beside him.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he teased, reaching over to tug you closer.

Chigiri

Chigiri sat in front of the mirror, meticulously braiding his hair while you watched from the bed.

“You spend more time in front of that mirror than I do in a day,” you quipped, lying back with your hands behind your head.

“And it shows,” he fired back without missing a beat.

You gasped, sitting up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your hair’s always a mess. Just saying,” he said with a smirk, glancing at you in the mirror.

“At least I don’t cry if the wind ruins my ponytail,” you shot back, grinning.

“That happened once,” he snapped, turning to face you.

“And I’ll never let you live it down,” you said, sticking out your tongue.

“Fine. But don’t ask me to braid your hair ever again,” he huffed, turning back to the mirror.

“Please, you’ll do it anyway. You can’t resist my charm.”

“Debatable,” he muttered, though his smirk betrayed him.

Kunigami

You stood in the kitchen, staring down Kunigami as he tried to help you cook. He was currently holding a knife completely wrong.

“That’s not how you chop an onion,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Does it matter? It’s getting chopped,” he replied, slicing unevenly.

“Yes, it matters! Are you trying to lose a finger?”

He stopped, looking at you. “Relax. I’ve been through worse on the field.”

“And yet, here you are, losing to an onion,” you teased.

Kunigami groaned but handed you the knife. “Fine. Show me how it’s done, Master Chef.”

You grabbed the knife and quickly chopped the onion into perfect pieces. “See? It’s not that hard.”

He watched, arms crossed, before muttering, “Show-off.”

“Admit it. You’d starve without me.”

“Maybe,” he said with a sly grin. “But I could live off takeout just to prove you wrong.”

Bachira

“Bet you can’t score on me,” Bachira said, holding a soccer ball and grinning mischievously.

“Bet I can,” you shot back, hands on your hips.

“You? Miss ‘I trip over air’? Okay, try.”

You glared at him but took the ball, dribbling it toward the makeshift goal. He blocked every attempt, laughing like a maniac the whole time.

“You’re so bad at this!” he teased, dancing away with the ball.

“At least I don’t look like a hyperactive squirrel on the field,” you snapped, smirking.

“Sassy! I like it,” he said, tossing the ball aside and pulling you into a hug. “But you still lost.”

“Only because you cheat,” you grumbled, burying your face in his chest.

“And you still love me!” he said, spinning you around.

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, but your smile gave you away.

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”

[sanaexus]

social's as sae's girlfriend

-liked by shiidoryu, isaichii and 125.2k others

yourusername: don't be fooled he actually enjoys being with me (the last image is him when he sees me)

tagged: itoshi_sae

itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: don't fuck off, fuck me instead ↳itoshi_sae: oh god i hate you ↳yourusername: no you don't ↳itoshi_sae: i don't

shiidoryu: wow sae you've never looked at me like that?? 💔💔😔😔 ↳itoshi_sae: you're an eyesore ↳shiidoryu: and she's not?? ↳yourusername: RUDE ASF?? YOU LOOK LIKE A TOMATO TFYM ↳itoshi_sae: as much as i hate saying it out loud she's pretty i guess ↳yourusername: was the "i guess" necessary? ↳mikka.kaiser: did you use the tomato as tomato or tomato? ↳yourusername: i used it as tomato ↳mikkar.kaiser: ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID? ITS TOMATO ↳yourusername: BOY STAFU ITS TOMATO ↳mikka.kaiser: NO??? ↳yourusername: SQAURE UP BITCH I'LL FUCKING FIGHT YOU ↳mikka.kaiser: BET

nikkoki: who got bro smiling like that? ↳yourusername: the waitress ↳nikkoki: elaborate ↳yourusername: she was approaching us multiple times, we thought she liked sae nah turns out she's gay thought i was cute thought sae was my brother and asked for my number lol ↳eita.otoya: ohhhh that's why he looks like he's ab to fight someone ↳yourusername: he don't bite 🥰😋 ↳itoshi_ sae: yes i do tf? ↳yourusername: no you don't

isaichii: he's secretly a hopeless romantic (it's canon you won't change my mind) ↳yourusername: frfr (it is i caught him watching shoujo) ↳isaichi: (NAH WAIT FR?) ↳yourusername: (DEAD SERIOUS) ↳itoshi_sae: for context she put it on, forced me to watch it with her and then left the room ↳yourusername: BOO HOO PARTY POOPER

-liked by kuniisuke, chigi.who and 139.7k others

itoshi_sae: cute (the cat)

tagged: yourusername

karasu_tabito: OH EMM GEE SAE POSTING SOMETHING THAT ISN'T SOCCER?!?!?! ↳mikka.kaiser: for FUCKS SAKE MATE IT'S FOOTBALL ARE YOU AMERICAN OR SOMETHING? ↳megubachi: RAHHH WHAT'S A KILOMETER🔥🔥💯💯🦅🦅💣💣🔫 🔫🔛🔝🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 ↳isaichii: FREEDOM RAHHH 🔥🔥💯💯🦅🦅💣💣🔫 🔫🔛🔝🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 ↳itoshi_sae: sigh

yourusername: OMGOMGOMGOMG IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING SAE'S POSTING ME?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?! ↳shiidoryu: you might have won the war but i'll win the battle ↳yourusername: that's the wrong fucking qoute dumbass ↳reo.miikage: quote* and it isn't even a quote it's idiom ↳rin.itoshi: fucking dumbasses it's a phrase ↳yourusername: kys 🤬🤬

user1: she's🎀so🎀coquette🎀 ↳yourusername: ikr sae called that bow stupid :( ↳itoshi_sae: and i apologized and watched inside out with you ↳yourusername: i know i just like making you feel bad

julian.loki: sae apologizing wasn't on 2024 bingo card but love to see it ↳user2: fr now all that man needs to do is apologize to the better sibling ↳itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: what he meant to say is "yes of course" his autocorrect must be acting up ↳itoshi_sae: no, i said what i said

-liked by itoshi_sae, rin.itoshi and 144.3k others

yourusername: did you know i like the beach? i like the beach also sae in his photographer era 😝

tagged: itoshi_sae

itoshi_sae: i was taking picture of the food and you had to ruin it ↳yourusername: you're not gonna say allat when you legit forced me to pose for like 15 minutes ↳itoshi_sae: shut up

user2: her eyelashes are so pretty ☹☹ ↳yourusername: stop im gonna kiss u 👉👈 ↳itoshi_sae: not on my watch ↳user2: boo hoo your js jealous i got a chance ↳itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: that's not nice

reo.miikage: damn that looks fine ↳hiyori: what the fuck . ↳kuniisuke: what. ↳reo.miikage: THE FOOD I MEAN YALL ARE SO PERVERTED?? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: MAYBE YOU SHOULD SPECIFY??

nagi.seishiro: who took this pictures though ↳yourusername: idk it was in sae's gallery so i took it lol ↳rin.itoshi: y/n wtf what if some creepy old bald oily man took it? ↳yourusername: that's my type 🥰 ↳itoshi_ sae: wtf? ↳yourusername: shh look away

shiidoryu: i thought he hated the beach? ↳yourusername: HUH?? BRO THAT MAN PLAYS FOR A SPANISH TEAM?? HE'S ALMOST ALWAYS SURROUNDED BY WATER? ↳shiidoryu: IDK BRO HE TOLD ME HATED BEACHES WHEN I ASKED HIM TO COME W ME ↳yourusername: I THINK THAT'S BC YOU ASK HIM AND HE DIDN'T WANNA GO W YOU ↳shiidoryu: THAT'S SO RUDE??

itoshi_sae: you're pretty ↳yourusername: OMGG IT'S HAPPENING OMGOMGOMG CODE RED ↳isaichii: WOOO HOOOOO ↳nikkoki: ITS HAPPENING !! ↳nikkoki: WAIT WHAT'S CODE RED AGAIN ↳chigi.who: js cheer her on ↳itoshi_sae: y/n why are your friends like this ↳yourusername: THEY'RE YOUR FRIENDS TOO? ↳itoshi_sae: nah

wooo we're finally done?? idk how i feel ab this but i hope you enjoyed it <3

[psychoticfemmm]

over my shoulder

pairing: frat!jj maybank x reader

summary: At a wild frat party, you get frustrated with JJ for ignoring you while he hangs with his frat brothers.

The party was in full swing, music thumping loud enough to rattle the windows, red Solo cups everywhere. You weaved through the throng of people, trying to keep up with JJ as he stopped every five seconds to fist-bump someone, down a beer, or laugh obnoxiously at some inside joke with his frat brothers.

“JJ,” you tugged on his arm, leaning closer so he could hear you. “Can we just hang out for a bit? Alone?”

He grinned at you, but his eyes darted to the pong table across the room. “Just a sec, babe. Gotta crush Pete and Logan real quick. I’ll find you after, okay?”

Before you could respond, he was gone, swept up in the chaos of his fraternity’s party. You exhaled sharply, annoyance bubbling in your chest. Rolling your eyes, you spun around and headed toward your friend, Riley, who was standing near the kitchen.

“JJ ditch you for his bros again?” Riley teased, handing you a fresh drink.

“Shocker, right?” you muttered, taking a sip.

As the two of you talked, a guy wearing a sweatshirt with the logo of JJ’s rival frat strolled up to you, a cocky grin plastered across his face. “Hey, haven’t seen you around here before. You a Chi Alpha girl?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Just here for the beer pong champion who’s too busy to hang out with me.”

“Ah, classic Delta Nu. They’re always like that,” he said, leaning a little too close. “Maybe you need someone who actually pays attention to you.”

Before you could respond, you heard a familiar voice cut through the music. “Hey, buddy, back off.”

You turned to see JJ storming over, jaw tight and eyes blazing. He shoved the guy back a step, beer sloshing out of the guy’s cup.

“Seriously, JJ?” you snapped, folding your arms.

“He was hitting on you,” JJ said, glaring at the guy.

“Maybe if you weren’t too busy for me, I wouldn’t have to entertain myself!” you shot back.

The guy smirked, clearly enjoying the drama. “Looks like you’ve got some issues to work out, man.”

That was the wrong thing to say. JJ lunged at him, but a few of his brothers grabbed his arms, pulling him back. “Not worth it, bro,” one of them muttered.

JJ huffed, clearly still fuming. He turned back to you, and before you could protest, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“JJ! Put me down!” you shouted, pounding your fists on his back.

“Nope. You’re coming with me,” he said, ignoring your protests as he carried you up the stairs to his room.

Once inside, he kicked the door shut and set you down on his bed. “Alright, princess, let’s talk.”

You crossed your arms, still fuming. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

He stepped closer, his hands on either side of your hips. “I’m sorry, okay? I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah, you were,” you said, turning your head when he leaned in to kiss you.

JJ chuckled, clearly amused by your defiance. “Oh, you’re mad mad, huh?”

“Gee, what gave it away?” you deadpanned.

He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. “I’m really sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you.”

“How?” you asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else. At first, you resisted, but his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss until your frustration began to melt.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against your jaw as he murmured, “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend tonight, but let me show you how much I hate when you’re mad at me.”

You swallowed, your annoyance quickly giving way to something else entirely. “This better be good, JJ.”

He smirked, his voice low as he trailed kisses down your neck. “Oh, babe, you won’t be thinking about anyone else by the time I’m done.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

let me know if I should do more au's like this⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[seasprincess]

bf!Rafe needs love

warnings: abuse mentions, angst

Rafe Cameron is a lot of things. But an emotionally strong man is not one of them.

You get the notification on your phone that Rafe has arrived at your house. Ah, the joys of having life360 due to the fact your bf is protective and nosy.

But it is helpful in these situations when Rafe turns up without an invitation. Usual stuff.

Your feet touch the soft carpet as you make your way to the front door, opening it slightly as you peek out. Seeing your boyfriend’s black range rover on the drive as he climbs out, bangs messy and in his eyes.

“Not today thank you. Don’t wanna see you.” You say as you smile, giggling away as you look at him.

“Yeah ha, funny. I don’t need that shit.” Rafe says as he fiddles with his car keys, heading towards you.

But as he’s so far away you can’t see the tears that fill his eyes. Or the way he can’t take deep breaths.

You just keep smiling before shutting the door and running back to your room. Sitting on your bed as you wait for your bedroom door to open.

And after about a minute it slowly starts open.

“No thank you I’m busy…with…Rafe?” Your voice slowly fades out as the curtained boy walks in and you see the tear streams on his cheeks. The tears glistening in the light as you climb up from the bed, reaching him and reaching up to cup his cheeks. Gently rubbing them as he fiddles with his fingers, trying to calm himself down in any way he can.

“My dad.” He chokes out as he averts his eyes. Looking at your decorated walls, scanning all the poster and shit you have. The singers, the movies and him. The photo from the photo booth on one of the dates you had. He’s kissing your cheeks as you smile. He feels his heart clench as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “I feel like he hates me. And then fucking Toppers mad at me. And then you hate me to a-“

“Woah hey no. I was kidding baby. I couldn’t hate you.” You say as you gently pull his face to make him look at you. Your eyes lock with the blue ones in front of you as you stroke his cheek. One of your hands moving up to move a piece of hair out of his face. “Let’s sit down.”

You guide him towards the bed as you sit down next to him. Your hands gripping his tightly as you look into his eyes. Trying to read them.

There’s only been a few times that you’ve seen Rafe cry like this. The last being a while ago after taking to many drugs. And seeing as his eyes are only puffy.

You know this is bad.

“Talk to me baby. What happened?” Softly speaking to him is what you’re having to do. Rafe never got spoken to softly ever when growing up. So to him. It’s comforting to him.

“My dad. He um.” Rafe scratches his chin as he looks away before looking back at you. “We got in an argument…and he. He. He fucking hit me okay? Is that what you wanna hear?” Rafe voice turns harsh as he gees angry. Reliving the moment in his brain.

“Oh my god, I swear I-”

“Please.” Rafe’s tone has switched and so has his words. “I can’t deal with more anger right now.”

You stop as you sigh. Reaching to grab his cheek and stroking it. All you need to do is be gentle with him.

“Okay. What can I do?”

“Just be here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you get closer to him.

“You wanna talk?”

“No.” He quickly responds. You knew it.

Rafe has never been one to talk. He bottled it all up until he explodes and punches something. Or someone. Which of course is extremely unhealthy. But it’s the only way he knows how to cope without a shit tone of drugs and alcohol not being involved.

You adjust in the bed so you’re lying down, opening your arms up for him.

Which he does as he places his head on your chest and holds you, tight. If he hugged you any tighter you’d break. He just needs you.

Gently you stroke his head as the tv plays softly in the background. You haven’t spoken. You don’t need to speak.

All you need to do is be there for him and wait until he wants to talk about this. Wait for him.

Rafe just grips your hand as he sighs against your chest. He doesn’t know what to say. He just can’t say anything.

So he probably won’t. He’ll just stay quiet about it.

But right now what he does know is that he is going to be here with you. Cause you love him. Not the love he gets from his father. But the love he needs.

The love he deserves.

[alastorss]

Hi!!! I'm currently absolutely DYING of sickness, and i was wondering if i could request smth with alastor with a sick reader since im stuck in bed til further notice and very sad lolsies anyways, i hope you have a good day!!<3

a/n: hii my love!! i hope you have a speedy recovery and feel better soon <3333

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Had he known you would have turned out so miserable, Alastor would have just given you his damn jacket whether you liked it or not.

Instead he's stuck babysitting; watching your fever, making sure you're drinking enough water; even keeping the time between your medications.

He had, of course, offered you his coat after he saw you coming out of the club with Angel Dust with clothes not suited for the chilly night. And you, stubborn as ever, refused it saying it would be too embarrassing to risk ending up in the newsletter.

"Imagine the headlines! You know Vox is always watching!" You had argued when he held out his coat for you to take. He could only smile indignantly at you.

Thinking back, he probably should have used a more authoritative tone. Then again, he would rather claw his eyes out than give you the idea that he cares about you.

He has no time to regret his decisions anymore, now busy with making sure you don't get worse with what little medicine there is in Hell.

"Your congestion sounds just terrible, my dear!"

You scowl at him from your place. "Gee, thanks."

"You really should take better care of yourself. Parading around in such thin clothes all night? You were bound to get sick eventually!"

"Like I need you telling me what to do," you grumble.

"I am just saying," he shrugs. "I do hate to see you so unwell."

You perk up a little, curiously looking at him as he perches on the end of the bed. "You do?"

He bites the inside of his cheek at the little glimmer in your eyes. You're not in the right headspace at the moment. It would be wrong to think you're looking at him so hopefully for any real reason.

"Don't push it," he laughs, scooting closer to you on the bed to feel your forehead.

You owlishly blink at him while he gauges your temperature with a little jazz tune in his throat. "What's your verdict, doctor?"

He grins down at you, a warmth behind it. "Bedrest would do you some good."

You frown, fluffing the blanket and diving beneath it. "Easier said than done when it's so damn cold."

Alastor regards you for a moment, watching you shiver. No, he really shouldn't let such a sight tug at his heartstrings. But his hands are moving faster than he can think, and his coat is slipping off his shoulders before he knows what he's doing.

You get engulfed by his coat, already warm from his body.

"You should get some rest," he tells you, voice missing its usual cheer. Gathering his staff, he gets ready to leave you be.

"Wait, Alastor!" The demon raises a brow at you as you hug his jacket around you, smiling all the while. He feels disgustingly warm and fuzzy inside at how content you seem.

This is correct, he thinks. His jacket slung over you—this is how it should have been all this time.

"Thank you."

He reaches down to tug at the collar, pulling it tight around you. "Just recover quickly so I can stop babysitting," he mumbles with a growing smile.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it (send an ask to be added!)

[allthingsfangirl101]

A Night On The Couch – Glen Powell

Masterlist

Y/N got home from work past 7 o'clock. She hung her keys and jacket by the door. She let her work bag fall off her shoulder and left it by the door. She headed straight to the bedroom and quickly changed into a baggy shirt and a pair of leggings. She took off her makeup and pulled her hair into a messy bun.

When she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine, she noticed she was home alone. She grabbed her phone but stopped. She knew there was no point in calling her husband. She knew that he wouldn't answer his phone while at work.

The pros and cons of being married to an actor.

Y/N sat on the couch with her glass of wine in her hand. Memories of the horrible day raced through her mind. All she wanted right now was to wrap herself in her husband's arms.

Instead, she spent several hours sipping wine, watching a horrible reality show, with tears streaming down her face. When the front door opened, she let out a sigh of relief.

"You're home," Y/N said shakily as she put her empty glass of wine on the coffee table and stood up.

"Not for long!" Glen called out as he jogged upstairs. Just as soon as she was filled with hope, it shattered.

"Of course," she mumbled as she went to the kitchen and poured herself another glass. She walked back out as Glen ran down the stairs he just ran up, except now he was in different clothes.

"Sorry, babe. I gotta get going. I have a meeting and then. . ."

"I'm not surprised," she said, making him stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Glen, this is the longest conversation we've had all month."

"And?" He shrugged. "We're both busy. You're the assistant to that big magazine producer."

"Eddie Morris," she sighed. "He's the editor of Vogue magazine."

"I said that," he brushed off. "What I was saying is that we're both busy. It happens to married couples who both work. It's normal."

"No, it's not, Glen."

"Of course it is," he shrugged grabbing his jacket from the closet and slipping it on. "Honey, it's difficult for married couples to both work and still have time for each other."

"Maybe that should tell us something," Y/N mumbled. "Glen, don't you think we should talk about that? We're never around each other and we never seem to mind. I'd really hate to say this, but maybe it would be easier for us to. . ."

"Don't say it," he said harshly as he turned around.

"It's not like I want a divorce," she tried to reassure him.

"You just said. . ."

"I  was going to say that we should talk to someone."

"Therapy?" Glen scoffed.

"Look, it's no secret that our marriage has been rough. We need to make more time for each other, Glen," she reworded. "We should take a break from our jobs and go on a trip or. . ."

"I can't take time off my work," he cut her off. "We're in the middle of a big movie. Plus, we're already behind and they haven't even finished writing the last few scenes. But your job is. . ."

"Not important?" Y/N finished for him. "Gee, thanks, Glen. Such a loving and supportive husband."

"I was just going to say that your schedule is a little more flexible than mine."

"I don't set my schedule, Glen," she corrected him. "Eddie does. And he's a bigger workaholic than you! Which means I get dragged along."

Y/N's voice broke at the end of the sentence, remembering the conversation she and Eddie had a few hours ago. Her husband didn't notice her whole expression change.

"Glen, I know you have a big important 'meeting' at the nearest bar with your costars," Y/N continued, the tone of her voice different, "but I really need to talk to you."

"Can we talk later?" He sighed, not hiding his annoyance. "I don't have time, Y/N."

"Glen, please," she said, her voice breaking. "I really need some time with my husband—just him and me. No work. No phones. No distractions. I need to tell you that I was talking to Eddie today and he decided to. . ."

"I have to go, Y/N," he cut her off.

"Of course you do!" Y/N laughed harshly, her anger from the events of the day finally bursting. "Considering your work is sooo important to you. Much more important than your wife."

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Y/N scoffed. "We are in the middle of a fight and you're choosing your job over me. Like you always do. You know what, Glen? Go. Go to work. And when you get home at 2 AM, you can sleep on the couch."

* * * * *

Y/N wasn't sure what time Glen got home. She went to bed after finishing the bottle of wine and didn't hear him get home. Glen got home a little after 3 am. He kicked off his shoes and instantly went upstairs to their bedroom. With his hand on the door handle, he froze. His argument with Y/N replayed in his mind.

He softly opened the door and saw her asleep in their bed. He wanted to wake her up and apologize over and over again. He wanted to take three months off so he could spend time with his wife and take her away from here and her job. . .

Her job. Something happened with her job yesterday and he left her.

He took a step into their room to talk to her but stopped. She had told him to sleep on the couch. He didn't want to. He wanted to wake her up and spend all night talking.

But he didn't. He turned around, closed the door gently, and walked back downstairs. He sat on the couch and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. He laid down, his mind racing through what could've happened to Y/N at work.

A few hours later, he woke up with his entire back aching. He froze when he heard her coming down the stairs. He sat up and watched Y/N come downstairs.

"Morning," he said to get her to acknowledge him.

"Morning," Y/N whispered as she walked into the kitchen. Glen watched as she walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee. Glen slowly stood up and tried not to stretch out his back in front of her.

She was now sitting at the table, slowly drinking her coffee. When he walked in, she froze but didn't look up at him. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, trying to get her to talk to him.

"Fine," she mumbled. He looked down and saw that she was still in her pajamas when she was usually in her work clothes at this time.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" Glen asked as he numbly drank the coffee.

"I would," she sighed. "But I don't work there anymore."

"Wait, what?" He roughly put down his cup on the counter and ran over to her. He knelt next to her and gently put his hands on her knees. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"It doesn't matter," she tried to brush off. She stood up, making Glen's hands fall off her knees. "Don't you have to get to work?"

"I'm calling in sick," he said, waiting for her reaction. Y/N turned around and studied him.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah," he said, walking over to her. "Turns out my wife needs some attention and she needs her husband to cheer her up."

Y/N threw her arms around Glen's neck, practically jumping into his arms, as she pressed her lips to his. Glen instantly caught her and started kissing her back.

"I'm really sorry about your job," he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers.

"I'm honestly not," she shrugged, leaning back.

"Let's get some bagels and we can talk about everything."

"Thank you," Y/N said with tears in her eyes. Glen leaned in and kissed her.

"I'm really sorry about making you think that my job is more important than you," he said, tightening his arms around her. "It's not true. Nothing is more important than you, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too, Glen," she whispered, her voice breaking. He leaned in and kissed his wife. He broke the kiss with a playful smirk.

"Does this mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore?"

[rafesbowbunny]

soft!kook!reader and rafe do it on the beach 🤭

oh em gee this is perfect ty nonnie !

req! 𝜗𝜚 fwb!rafe asks soft!kook!reader out on the beach

c!w; mdni !! dom!rafe, soft!kook!reader, public (?) sex, fingering, hand job, oral (f. + m. receiving), 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, bitta fluff too for once!

notes; two soft!kook!reader fic drops wowow. i really need to finish the 5 other fics in my drafts... i hate writers block ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

the truck rattled down the sandy path, headlights cutting through the thickening dusk. rafe sat behind the wheel, one hand loosely draped over it, the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh. you leaned back in the passenger seat, the ocean breeze tangling your hair as you glanced over at him. his jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead, like he was on a mission.

“you’re being cryptic,” you teased, a half-smile tugging at your lips. “should i be worried?”

he shot you a quick glance, his mouth twitching into something almost resembling a smirk. “you’ll see,” he said, voice low, calm.

the beach came into view, the shoreline glowing faintly under the moonlight. you left your shoes and hopped out as soon as the car stopped, your feet sinking into the cool sand. but then you noticed it, a small glow farther down the shore, fairy lights twinkling softly. your brows knitted in confusion, but rafe was already pulling you by the hand, leading you toward it.

when you got closer, you stopped dead in your tracks. a kiddie pool sat nestled in the sand, lined with blankets and pillows, the string lights hanging around like something out of a dream. you blinked, taking it all in.

“rafe,” you started, your voice trailing off.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare moment of unease flickering across his face. “look, i’m not good at this,” he admitted, his words tumbling out quickly. “but i couldn’t... not anymore. i don’t want anyone else. i want you. just you. so... be mine?”

the air seemed to hang still between you, your heart hammering in your chest.

“yeah,” you said finally, a soft laugh escaping as you shook your head. “yeah, of course.”

and just like that, he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours, both of you sinking into the mountain of blankets. his hands slid up the sides of your body, you climbed into his lap, straddling him as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"you're so pretty" he breathed in between kisses as they grew more desperate, your bodies hotter and breathing more ragged. a hand slipped underneath your top, creeping up to one of your tits and he affectionately squeezed it. you could feel the mischievous grin on his lips through the kiss.

you groaned when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, "i want you rafe." he tore his lips away from yours and searched your eyes for a moment. "on the beach? you sure?" he rasped, his breathing still heavy and increasing at the thought of you screaming his name for the whole ocean to hear.

you grinned and began lining his neck with kisses, slowly rutting against him while one hand slid up his shirt, feeling his toned body. he groaned and planted his hands on your waist, grinding you against him harder.

"i'll never get tired of your dick rafe..." you whispered into the shell of his ear, if he wasn't so hard already he definitely would be now. his eyes rolled back as his mind split open from pleasure.

you unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants so only his boxers were between you and his poor throbbing cock. you rolled your palm over his tip through the fabric, he sucked air in through his teeth and rolled his head back.

you chewed your bottom lip as you slowly pulled his cock out of his pants, his tip angry and leaking pre-cum, already swollen and begging. you grinned at him as he stared intensely at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. your hand moved carefully up and down his shaft as another played with his tip while he squirmed under your touch, you'd never been so slow and painful about it before.

looking him in the eyes you moved backwards and lowered your lips down, pressing a sloppy kiss to his tip while still looking up at him through your lashes. he nearly came right then and there, the careful attention you were giving your new boyfriend drove him insane, he was whimpering under your touch as you continued to jerk him off while playing close attention to his tip with your mouth.

you only stopped when he grabbed your chin, stopping you from licking up his cock, "c'mere, your turn." he demanded, and you obliged with a smile. he switched positions with you, sitting you up against the edge of the kiddie pool as he slipped your shorts and panties down with a smirk.

his big hands ran over your thighs before he laced two fingers into your folds, playing around with your wetness and teasing your clit. you twitched at the feeling of his long fingers, begging him to slid them in with the way you were looking at him.

"so so wet baby... this all from getting me off?" he cooed, his fingers now teasing around your hole as his other hand held your leg to the side.

your gaze was pleading, "stop teasing me rafe... 'ts not fair." he only chuckled lightly before kissing your inner thigh and sliding two fingers into your weeping cunt slowly.

you whined when he began sliding his tongue between your folds, lapping at your clit as his fingers continued to slid in and out of you. rafe moaned into your pussy, the vibrations causing you to thread your fingers through his hair, cinching your eyebrows together from the pleasure.

you chewed your lip, trying not to moan too loud so out in the open, still letting small noises slip as rafe ate you like a man starved. "rafe..." you choked, your hand grabbing his wrist.

he lifted his head, the lower half of his face coated in your slick as he smiles up at you, still teasing your folds with his fingers, "yes baby?"

"please... i wanna cum on your cock" you beg, chest rising and falling as you breath heavily. rafe grinned, his smile wide as he crawled over you, sucking your juices off his fingers before pressing his lips to yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"fuck you're so gorgeous" he rasped, tearing away from your lips before grinning down at you as he jerked himself off a little before lowering down to your sopping pussy.

rafe tapped the tip against your folds before then swiping through them, teasing you as you lay there in anticipation before sinking into your pussy with a low groan. you whine when he slowly pushes his cock to the hilt, your cunt tightening around him deliciously.

your hand grips his arm, "'ts so... nhghh, you're so big-" you whimper. no matter how many times the two of you have had sex before, you knew you would never get used to the sheer size of rafe.

he thrusts his hips back then forward again, you feel every inch as your pussy flutters around his cock. "don' worry baby, you can take it" he replies, throwing one of your legs onto his shoulder.

rafe groans as his speed increases, your muscles clenching around him, coaxing him into filling you up. his hand connects with your tit, kneading the fat and pinching your nipple, making you moan loudly. rafe grinned, thankful he chose a secluded beach and the fact that the sun had just set behind them.

he bit his lower lip at the plap-plap-plap coming from his pelvis hitting the wetness that had gathered between you. a thick ring around rafe's cock already along with a stringy mess every time your bodies met.

rafe's eyes raked your body, taking in every outline he could in the dim light provided by the fairy lights. he leans and kisses you as his hands explore your body, he just can't get enough of you.

his hips stutter as his thrusts slow down a little, the tightness of your pussy becoming too much for him to hold off anymore. "ah fuck, g'na cum baby.." rafe groans, his grip on your hips bruising.

"want you to fill me up rafey, cum inside me" you demand, eyes locked on his until they meet yours, wide and wild. as soon as the words left your lips rafe thought he was in heaven, he'd finished on you plenty of times but only inside of you with a condom. it was always a rule of yours that only a boyfriend would have the privilege.

he strained as his thrusts sped up, your cunt tightening unbearably around him, milking every last drop as his cum finally spurts inside of you. your hips twitch as your orgasm takes over and rafe continues fucking his release into you for a few more thrusts before collapsing beside you.

he pulls your face in, kissing you deeply, "fuck you're amazing. i love you baby." he sighs.