#and I hope everyone who’s gone through anything like I did knows that even though it can take a LONG time -it will

[danitcx]

La bondad en sus ojos (Parte 2)

Part 1 - The Way He Waits for You

Thank you for your sweet comments on part 1 — I love you all! 💗 Here’s part 2 (finally)! Hope it makes you smile a little

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Clark Kent x shy!female reader

Synopsis: A quiet walk home, a bowl of ramen, and the realization that Clark Kent might know more about you than you expected. You didn’t want to believe it. But his nervous smile… and the way he remembered your favorite dish… made your heart wonder: was this really just kindness?

Warnings: Fluff, slow burn, soft tension, jealous!reader moment, nervous!Clark, implied date, lots of eye contact, shy!reader

WC: 2,720 aprox

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If happiness could take human form, then surely, it would bear the name Clark Kent.

That same Clark who had followed you silently after leaving the bar, without even saying goodbye to the others, just to make sure you were okay. He didn’t say it directly, of course, but there was concern in his eyes. And in his voice, softness. He was the one who encouraged you to go with him to buy ramen.

Only when you got home did you realize something that made you stop in your tracks: how did he know you liked ramen? You hadn’t mentioned it.

And then you remembered.

“One ramen with carbonara and spice, and another carbonara with cheese, but mild. That’s her favorite,” Clark had said as he looked at the man at the counter.

You hadn’t even reacted. You were still so distracted by the situation around you that you didn’t notice his immediate blush when he realized what he had revealed. He covered it up quickly, asking what drink you wanted with a slightly shaky voice. And even if you didn’t say anything, you noticed.

Since that night, the question lingered in your mind: What if Clark… was interested in you?

It was hard to believe. Clark was kind, yes. But not just with you. He was the kind of man who apologized even when he didn’t need to. The one who said sorry for bumping into you even though you had been the distracted one. His sweetness felt almost… unreal. And yet, it seemed so genuine.

“Excellent, this one’s much better,” Perry said, flipping through your article with an approving look.

The meeting had already gone over an hour, and everyone looked tired. But hearing your work was approved gave you an unexpected surge of energy. You smiled in relief and nodded, taking the article in your hands. When you looked up, you saw him. Clark.

He was looking at you from across the room with a calm smile. But the moment his eyes met yours, his expression changed. He blushed. And you, with a small internal jolt, quickly looked away.

But it was too late. Your stomach had started to flutter.

“All right, everyone has their assignment,” Perry announced. “You may go. Get some rest.”

Chairs scraped as everyone stood. You were the first to leave, as always, avoiding any invitation to hallway chats or impromptu meetings that might put you in the same situation as last time. You grabbed your things without looking back.

But you stopped halfway down the hall.

The silence of the building after a long meeting was almost comforting. You stood still, hand clutching your bag strap, hesitating. Despite avoiding those situations, you wanted to talk to Clark again.

You remembered clearly: he spoke with flushed cheeks and a nervous laugh that made him even sweeter. He didn’t say anything personal, just things about university, his job, or Perry… but you felt comfortable. Really comfortable. For the first time, you could look at him for more than two seconds. Up to fifteen. And when his eyes found yours, something in your chest calmed. At least for a few seconds. Then the nerves would return and you’d look away, trembling. But it didn’t matter. Because with him… you felt safe.

You hesitated, moved to the side of the hallway, pretending to check something in your bag. You waited for everyone to leave, even Perry. But Clark didn’t. And that seemed strange to you. He was always quick to leave. Maybe… was fate giving you a chance?

Your breath caught for a moment, overcome by nerves. But even so, you took a step toward the meeting room. You approached slowly and just as you were about to enter, you heard voices.

"Then, Clark… who are you going to choose to help you with what Perry asked for?" said a feminine voice.

It was Adelle. One of the lead analysts on the team, just like Clark, although she'd been at the office longer. She was standing, leaning against one of the desks next to him, laughing freely. Her voice was soft, confident. And her hands rested with a suspicious familiarity over her own chest, just as she leaned toward him.

Clark was smiling, though his cheeks were blushing.

Your heart sped up. Literally.

And as if he had felt it —as if that heart of yours made more noise than your footsteps— he looked up. His eyes found yours with an intensity that made you shiver.

Adelle turned too, raising an eyebrow when she saw you, without wiping the smile from her face.

You blushed instantly.

"I… hi…" you said, stepping into the space as if you were looking for something. "Just… thought I forgot something," you murmured to yourself, pretending to check the desk.

"Don't go," Clark's voice stopped you with gentle firmness.

You turned to him, surprised.

"Actually…" he added, stepping slightly away from Adelle, "I was going to ask if you could help me with… what Perry asked for. I'm sorry, Adelle, I must leave."

He said it so quickly that Adelle barely had time to react. Clark was already beside you, his presence warm, close.

"Shall we talk outside?" he asked, lowering his voice a bit.

You nodded with a small motion.

Before leaving, he turned to Adelle politely.

"Good night," he said with courtesy, then gestured for you to follow him.

You walked out behind him in silence, not daring to say anything.

You couldn’t be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend. You couldn’t even say for sure that you liked him. He was just… Clark. Kind, considerate, sweet. And you knew he was like that with everyone. Even so, that slight blush on his face when he saw you, that way he rushed out just to catch up to you… made you think that maybe, just maybe… you weren’t imagining things. “So… can you help me?” Clark asked after a while, when the elevator opened and they walked in silence until they stepped out onto the street.

“Yes,” you said without looking at him, and he nodded gently.

A few more seconds passed, and just when you thought you’d say goodbye and go your separate ways, his voice reached you again:

“Do you want to have dinner?”

You looked at him with some surprise, stopping in your tracks. The night air brushed your face like a whisper you couldn’t quite interpret.

“There’s no need for you to give me something so I’ll agree,” you replied, not a hint of a smile, eyes lowered and voice firm, though trembling. “It’s work. I’ll help you.”

Clark frowned slightly, still looking at you.

“Give something?” he repeated. “No… actually, I just—”

“I interrupted, didn’t I?” you cut in, suddenly, with a forced bravery that made your pulse race. You held your ground, even though everything inside you was shaking. “You were going to ask Adelle. Go to her and tell her instead. Don’t pity me, Clark. You don’t have to be kind to everyone.”

Your cheeks were burning. The knot in your throat tightened.

Clark looked at you in silence for a second that felt eternal. And when you took a step back, ready to flee again, he gently held your arm. Not with force. Just enough so you wouldn’t walk away without hearing him.

“I’m kind because… I don’t really know,” he let out a nervous laugh and looked down at his own hand, still on your arm. He pulled it back right away. “Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed. Then he smiled—that smile of his that always seemed to disarm the chaos.

“You’re an excellent writer. And journalist. Your articles are among the best at the Daily Planet. You adapt easily to any topic. Yes, your strengths are politics and food, but you still help Jimmy with sports, Cat with culture… everyone says the same. That you help without expecting anything in return. That you make others feel safe.”

You looked at him, surprised. It felt like he was undressing you with words you’d never been able to say to yourself.

“And of course,” he continued, a bit more slowly, “the dinner isn’t for work. It’s… a date.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Literally.

—Oh was all you managed to say.

Your eyes were shining. Your heart was pounding. But you didn’t say anything else. You didn’t know how. You didn’t know what to do with that feeling filling your chest. It wasn’t that you felt small… it was something else. As if suddenly you saw a version of yourself you had forgotten. As if the way he looked at you… made you want to believe in yourself again.

Clark noticed your silence and rushed to speak:

"But if you're uncomfortable… we can do the same as last time. I talk. You listen. And when you're ready… you talk. I’ll adapt to you. I just want to get to know you more. Understand you."

You looked at him. You breathed. It was hard. But you did it.

"Where are we going?" you asked softly.

He smiled instantly, with that bright expression that made him look younger.

"There's a restaurant nearby," said Clark, starting to walk. You followed him without thinking much.

"Italian?" you asked curiously.

"Uh-huh. Very popular according to the reviews. But I’m sure you know it… you wrote one. I read it," he added with a slightly guilty smile, as if he had just confessed a secret.

"Trattoria di Fiore?" you said, surprised. "Famous for its pasta and wood-fired pizzas. You read it?"

Your heart skipped a little. Had Clark really read something of yours just because he wanted to?

"Yeah. Everyone reads your reviews," he replied calmly. "Every time you publish one, half the Daily Planet ends up going to try the place. Jimmy swears he discovered his favorite restaurant thanks to you… although I think he only goes because they serve double chocolate ice cream."

You chuckled quietly.

"I gave in too," he continued. "And I wanted to try it. And what better than to go with you?"

"Oh… I didn’t know," you murmured, still processing everything.

Clark shrugged with a shy smile.

"You're more famous at work than you think. And… among everyone, I’m your number one fan."

You looked at him, surprised and a little blushed. But he quickly added, in a playful voice:

"Although please, don’t see me now as Clark Clark."

"No? Like Joseph?" you asked, raising an eyebrow with a small smile, referring to his middle name.

Clark let out a genuine, slightly embarrassed laugh.

"No, no, please," he said, scratching his neck while trying to maintain eye contact. "If you call me Joseph, I feel like I’m in… I don’t know, a job interview or about to be arrested. ‘Clark Joseph Kent, is it true you ordered three pizzas in one night?’"

Your laugh came out before you could stop it. It was soft at first, then more open. You covered your mouth with your hand, but it was already too late: your dimples showed, your eyes sparkled like something inside you had suddenly been freed.

Clark looked at you, a bit overwhelmed by the tenderness of that moment.

"Wow…" he whispered, barely audible.

"What?" you asked, lowering your gaze in embarrassment, as if laughing was something you weren’t supposed to do.

He shook his head, nervous too.

"Nothing. Just… I’m glad I made you laugh. I thought I was going to say something stupid."

"You did," you said without thinking, then covered your mouth again. "But I liked it."

Clark laughed too, placing a hand on his chest as if pretending to be wounded.

"It hurts, but I accept it. I’ll make a fool of myself as many times as it takes if it means you’ll laugh like that."

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too much, but it was useless.

"So… you’re not Clark from work," you said softly.

"No, not at all," he said, more serious this time. "Today… I’m just Clark. The one hoping this will be a good date."

"I understood that before," you admitted, in a barely audible voice.

And he blushed again.

"Then I’ll pretend I didn’t read your review. Or that I don’t have the part where you recommend the dessert marked… although I did order it in advance just in case," he added with that sweet clumsiness so natural to him.

You walked by his side, and to your surprise, he didn’t stop making you laugh. Sometimes with absurd comments, other times with exaggerated observations about the signs on the way or the city lights. And even though some jokes were so silly you brought your hand to your face, you couldn’t help but smile. He liked making you laugh. He liked seeing you like that, free, light… being you.

As you walked, Clark glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as if trying to make sure everything was okay. And it was. It was more okay than he imagined.

In his pocket, almost like a secret, he carried a small folded sheet with a few handwritten notes. They were fragments of your review. Your favorite dishes. Your exact words about the atmosphere and the dessert you had loved. He had already decided what to order. He had already planned the moment.

Because he had already taken the first step. And he didn’t plan to stop.

[northwestofinsanity]

A little thought, since I mentioned the DeviantArt thing on my Tumblr anniversary post a couple of days back (but not the point I want to eventually make a larger post on -I'm still figuring out how to articulate that).

So, on this day in 2017 (seven years ago), I was on my first day, post-throwing my first DeviantArt account into official hiatus on the night of February 6th as a last-ditch effort to break free from a character-based roleplay friendship/partnership that became toxic, controlling, and emotionally abusive. I woke up on this day in 2017 from the weirdest, symbolic dream. It was the most vivid scene of walking around my old high school building, in which the whole thing was empty, save for a few broken fixtures left behind. Symbolic of this empty space in my life after throwing this thing out. At some point, I ran out of the building, and there was something that happened to me, which, for the sake of those who might be triggered by it, I won't describe -but it was suggestive of getting rid of something unhealthy in my life. And then, despite the disturbing images in the dream, it ended with me looking to the sky, and between the grey clouds, the sun was still shining. Despite how screwed up everything was.

There are a lot of nuances to my particular experience that left a lot of grey area, and obviously, feelings don't disappear overnight, so there were a few weeks of grieving -the worst of which hit a few days on later. I don't remember much about this day in 2017, aside from that it was a bright, sunny day that just felt so weird in my state of shock.

With this past fall, finally reaching the point of peace where I can look back on this time and not blame myself in some way for it, and not feel any regrets about it... I've realized life has come full circle in a lot of ways to what I was dealing with then. In 2017, I was in my first year of college, watching my grandfather go down with heart failure from miles away from home (he lost his battle one week after I got home from the end of Spring semester). Here in 2024, I'm finally in my first year of veterinary school, back in the same town, I've got three family members in hospice, and I don't know if my grandmother's dementia battle is going to hit its end before or after I get home from this semester. I’m watching another online community I was once a big part of slowly melt down -perhaps one I became far closer to than the one I’d been in on DeviantArt. Maybe that hasn’t been with as much nasty, divisive drama -albeit there has been some nasty gossip at school the last couple of weeks that hasn’t been the easiest to hear. Not much in life has changed at all, really, for that many year's difference. It's not easy, still, but it is easier to deal with. Not because anything has changed, as I once thought based on how some people have described. It's just easier to accept and put into perspective, and maybe not necessarily stop caring entirely, as the cynical viewpoint would say, but better knowing how to limit how much I do care when it's not worth the stress -or just something that’s out of my control.

And as I was walking outside in the waiting period between lecture and lab earlier this afternoon, I noticed it was one of those bright, clear days -just like that really odd day in 2017. And it reminded me of the one coherent thought I could tell myself back then.

“I'm still here, and the sun is still shining.”

And I still am here, and the sun is still shining, and while it seemed like the bare minimum first step at the time, I don’t think there was ever anything as beautiful as the sun in the sky today, finally reaching the other end of the journey.

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Gossip Chronicles

Word Count: 835

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Y/n, both lovers of gossip, eagerly dissect the drama after the drivers dinner

________________________________________________________

The low hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Y/n lounged on the plush hotel bed, scrolling through her phone. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her eager expression as she refreshed Twitter for the umpteenth time, hoping to catch a glimpse of what went down at the drivers’ dinner. She loved drama, and being with Lando Norris only fueled her insatiable thirst for F1 gossip.

She glanced at the clock. 10:45 PM. He’d been gone long enough.

When the door finally clicked open, Y/n practically leapt off the bed. Lando walked in, pulling the hood of his light blue hoodie down as he set his keycard on the dresser. The hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, giving him that effortlessly casual vibe that Y/n loved.

“Finally!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it lightly at him. “What took you so long? You know I’ve been dying to hear everything.”

Lando laughed, dodging the pillow with ease. “Nice to see you too, love.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting. “Spill. Now.”

Lando tugged off his sneakers and flopped onto the bed beside her, the faint scent of cologne lingering as he did. “Alright, alright,” he said, adjusting his hoodie. “Where do I even start?”

“Max and George,” Y/n said immediately, her eyes lighting up. “I saw the clips from the press conference earlier, and you can’t tell me there wasn’t tension. What happened? Did they fight? Was it awkward?”

Lando chuckled, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly under his hood. “Oh, it was so awkward. Max barely looked at George the entire dinner. He was polite enough to everyone else, but you could tell he was still pissed about the whole sprint race thing.”

“I knew it!” Y/n practically squealed, sitting up straighter. “Did George say anything to him?”

“Well,” Lando said, stretching his legs out, “George tried to be civil—like, he even made this joke about the weather or something—but Max just gave him that look. You know the one.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “The ‘I’m about to crush you on the track’ look?”

“Exactly,” Lando confirmed, smirking. “It was so uncomfortable that even Carlos had to jump in and crack a joke to break the tension.”

“Of course Carlos did,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes fondly. “What about Lewis? Was he Switzerland as usual?”

Lando snorted. “Pretty much. He was sitting between Charles and George, though, so he didn’t really get involved. But I swear, Valtteri was eating it all up. You know how he loves watching chaos unfold without actually being in it?”

“That man is the definition of petty,” Y/n said, laughing. “What about Charles? Was he just… being pretty and clueless as usual?”

Lando burst out laughing. “Pretty much. He was just sitting there, sipping his wine, probably wondering how he got stuck in the middle of all this drama. Carlos kept nudging him like, ‘Just stay quiet.’”

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “Tell me more. Who else was doing what? Did Pierre and Yuki cause a scene? Did Oscar say anything?”

Lando laughed, pulling his hood back up for dramatic effect. “Yuki almost spilled his drink trying to get Pierre to stop flirting with the waitress. And Oscar… well, Oscar just looked like he was mentally filing for a restraining order from all of us.”

Y/n laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Poor Oscar. He didn’t sign up for this chaos.”

“No, but he’s learning quickly,” Lando said, chuckling.

“So,” Y/n said, leaning closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “what’s your personal take on the Max and George drama? Whose side are you on?”

Lando gave her a playful side-eye, tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You trying to get me in trouble, love?”

“Always,” she said with a grin.

“Well,” Lando said, drawing out the word dramatically, “Max is definitely holding onto a grudge, but George isn’t exactly innocent either. I think they just need to have a proper shouting match and get it over with.”

Y/n nodded sagely. “Agreed. Maybe I should lock them in a room together during the next race weekend.”

“Or we could just sit back and enjoy the show,” Lando said, smirking. “You know there’s bound to be more fireworks soon.”

“True,” Y/n said, settling back against the pillows. “I swear, F1 is better than any reality TV show.”

Lando wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “And you’re my favorite co-star.”

Y/n smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re just saying that because I let you gossip as much as I do.”

“Maybe,” Lando admitted, laughing. “But hey, it’s our thing.”

[fleurbly]

part I, part II, part III

— he doesn’t take the breakup well. not even for a second. first night you’re gone, he rips the sheets off the bed like they betrayed him. kicks the mirror until it shatters, bleeding through his socks like he doesn’t feel it. throws shit at the wall, just so he can watch it shatter.

— he tells everyone he dumped you. loud. smug. “fuckin’ toxic, mate,” he laughs, drink in hand, mouth running faster than his head. but his eyes flick to the door every time it opens like he’s hoping it’s you.

— he shows up places he knows you’ll be. doesn’t even pretend it’s a coincidence. sits two tables over, staring dead at you with a look that says “you gonna come say hi or do i have to start a scene?”

— he talks about you like he owns you. “yeah, she used to beg for me. she’s got a temper though, fuckin’ mental. miss it, kinda.” smirks like it’s a joke but his knuckles are white around the bottle.

— and when you still don’t talk to him, that’s when the real shit starts.

— “remember that tape?” he says in a voice note you never asked for. voice all low and smug. “that one night. you in my lap, creamin’ on my cock… yeah. i’ve got that saved. crystal fuckin’ clear.”

— he doesn’t even have to leak it to ruin you. just lets the threat sit. lets you wonder. lets you sweat. “not gonna post it… unless you keep actin’ like this,” he shrugs. “depends how nice you are to me.”

— he knows your schedule. when you work, who you’re with, who you’re texting. starts sending cryptic texts like “he won’t fuck you like i did” and “bet he don’t know you cry when you come.” no name. no context. just venom.

— he flirts in front of you. touches other girls, loud and messy, eyes on yours the whole time. waits for your reaction. but you don’t give it. and that pisses him off more than anything.

— “you were never jealous, were you?” he spits one night outside the pub, cornering you on the pavement. “too cold. too smart. thought you were better than me.” steps closer. “but you weren’t. you’re mine.”

— he gets mean. cruel in that quiet way. starts rumours about you. tells people you cheated. tells people you begged him not to leak the tape. even though he hasn’t yet— just to watch you squirm.

— he doesn’t sleep. not properly. when he does, he dreams about you. about your voice, your mouth, your laugh when it used to be soft. wakes up sweating. blames you.

— and if you ever try to call his bluff? ever look him dead in the eye and say, “do it then, post it”— he fucking falters. just for a second. because even at his worst, some part of him still thinks you’re the only real thing he ever had.

masterlinks

[queen-of-signs]

💍Beyond the Veil: Visions of Your Future Spouse (Mini-Reading)🔮

Disclaimer: This is a collective tarot reading, so please keep in mind that it may or may not resonate with everyone. Take what resonates with you and feel free to leave the rest. Trust your intuition as you receive the messages. I'd love to hear if this reading resonated with you, so please feel free to let me know in the comments. (LGBTQ+ friendly) No sugarcoating!

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1

Well, this can be someone you meet online. Your FS can be an adrenaline junkie. They may spend a lot of time online. This connection can show up out of the blue when you least expect it. I'm seeing that it can be within this year. It shows that you may cut off ties with someone in your family around the time of meeting them. This can be a long-distance relationship. They can have a temper too. They can have Aries Sun/Venus/Rising in their chart. Also, they may be casually dating someone while meeting you as well. Nothing serious though.

Personality-wise, they can be a daydreamer and can cry over things that happened years ago, replaying in their mind at bedtime. Spouse would like to listen to romantic songs and may imagine them being in it, just like you. Spouse can have a social-media presence and can attract a lot of attention from people. It seems your FS could have gone through a toxic relationship in the past before meeting you, which made them lose hope in love. They're giving me "hopeless romantic" vibes. They can have really low self-esteem and poor self-worth. They can even lower their standards in order to be in a relationship. Lol, they sound desperate. When you meet them, they may constantly text you, say nice things aka what you wanted to hear, throw compliments all the way, just to talk to you. They would do anything to get your attention. You may not meet them right away as I am seeing that you may have some trust issues and you would get into your "spy mode" to learn about their past. Their past can be a bit messy, but it shows they have really worked through it. They really regret choosing the person before you. A woman. She made them lose interest in life altogether. Whatever happened between your FS and her did not end well. Like, it ended in a fight and some public scrutiny from people they know well. Your FS would really wish to forget it and move on and it's showing me that they took whole responsibility for that instead of running away like a coward.

Career-wise, they aren't following their passion. It shows a situation where they're currently stuck in a job and waiting for a time to change their job. Either the pay isn't enough or the job pays them well but on the inside, they don't like it at all. They're not in tune with their profession currently. They can have a decent group of friends with whom they would hang out regularly. I am also seeing that they may try to pursue higher education in the upcoming months and looking for universities to apply. They will succeed in it somehow.

For physical and emotional characteristics, they may wear glasses. They can have a scar in their face or have had surgery on their face. They can be bilingual and can be either an immigrant or a foreigner to you. Loud voice. Their laughter can be contagious. They may hide their opinions on certain things in order to avoid criticism from people around them. Can be a people-pleaser. If anybody ask them what kind of partner they want in life, your FS will say something but wants the opposite of that. They can be somewhat conservative too. They could have been born in April-May-June. Their Moon can fall in their 8th or 12th house.

Check out my pinned post for a complete FS reading (Whispers of the Vow)!

Pile 2

You either already know who your FS is or are still living in denial that they're not the one for you. If not both, I can see that u could be in a place where you're not ready to meet them. It may take from 1 to 2 years to meet them or even longer than that. Most of you who chose this pile can be within 25. Some of you can already be in a relationship when you meet them, or you already know who they are but are silently waiting for them to be single. This can also be someone whom you admire from afar. One-sided vibes are strong from this Pile 2. If you are admiring someone from afar, it's saying that you have a long way to go to make this person come into your life. Most of you could struggle with sleep issues here. Insomnia. Depression. Dark circles under your eyes. If you already know this person and if they are in a relationship right now, know that they are gonna be single soon, within 3 months from now.

Your FS is caught up with too many responsibilities in life and also, they're not happy right now. They have so many people to look after and are burdened by responsibilities right now. They may also have done something by not listening to their gut instinct and are currently facing the consequences. They may have also lost some connections bcoz of that. As of now, they're being quiet or letting others walk over them. Am seeing a friend or an acquaintance spreading rumors about them behind their back or doesn't have good intentions towards your FS. Your FS may have a way to come out of it and fix it but struggling to do so. They WILL work through it well and am seeing them working on their career.

Personality-wise, they can be really giving and won't like to meet new people that much. They would rather get stuck in a toxicity than go out of their comfort zone. They can be restless and may want results immediately. Learning a new hobby? If they didn't master it in a week, they are mentally checked out and move on to the other shiny thing. Your FS will talk smoothly and lovely to everyone around them. My god, I'm getting someone who won't hurt a fly. But people may take advantage of their niceness a bit too much. They can have a Mercury Rx in their chart and also heavy Virgo energy. Could have been born in Mid-June - Late August. Their mind can think of 250 words at once, but they will end up talking like 20 words. They bottled up a lot to themselves. They can be pessimistic at times and can think of the worst possible scenarios in their head at night, which may never happen in real life. They know who they're deep down and they won't share their true selves with anyone except those who are close to them. Really hardworking too.

Career-wise, they could have landed a job recently or changed their job recently in hopes of a better living. They may work in a public-facing role. Their work can be soul sucking, but it pays them well. Their career is something that they have always wanted to do since they were a teen. Whatever career they are up to now, they are a master of their craft and know how to do shit and make money. Your FS can be wealthier than you as well. They are analytical and know how to get what they want in life.

For physical and emotional characteristics, your spouse can have lighter eyes, possibly blue or grey and 1-3 shades lighter than your skin tone. Your FS can deal with migraines and might run on caffeine. They could have been born in the summer. They may like to watch horror/thriller/sci-fi movies. They might go to the gym to be fit or be on the lean side. Can be from 5'10 or more. There can be a significant age difference here. Spouse can have a baby face or look younger than their actual age. They may smoke or could have smoked at some point in their life. Money-minded. Workaholic. Neck/Back pain. Can always look like "I don't want to be here, but anyway, here I am".

Check out my pinned post for a complete FS reading (Whispers of the Vow)!

Pile 3

First off, most of you are not ready to be in a relationship, let alone your FS? If you are already in a relationship or have a crush on someone currently, they are not your FS. Your FS is someone new, not someone you already know. They live far away from you. It may take 3 years from now for you to meet your FS. Some of you who chose this pile can be homosexual or bi. You may be the one reaching out to your FS first. Also, you might meet them after you go through a major life transformation. You may meet your FS after a full moon but within the third quarter. For some of you, it will be revealed through your dreams and psychic visions. Am seeing that most of y'all are spiritual enough to handle the intensity of the unknown. Currently, your FS is out of reach to you. For most of you, it can be an unconventional relationship. Some of you may have North node in 7th, or aspecting your 7th lord. Heavy Piscean energy around you and Capricorn energy around your FS.

Personality-wise, your spouse can be stingy with money or spend it only on people they really care about. Won't help someone if they don't see a value in it. Also, they can be really inexperienced in relationships or just won't make an effort if they don't see a future with someone in the long term. You may meet them in a social gathering, in person, not online. They could have been from a home with an absent parental figure. I'm also seeing that they might have a younger sibling as well. An honest person and speaks from their heart. They can be quite blunt with their words and won't sugarcoat anything. But in love, they can be a prince/princess charming. They would go to lengths to make you theirs even if it comes with certain risks. Their inner self can be pretty stormy and if they didn't get what they wanted or spiraled into depression, they would go down the path of self-destruction. Your FS could have had suicidal thoughts or self-harming tendencies in the past. FS may not open up immediately and it takes time for them to let you in. Tough cookie on the outside but a river on the inside. They definitely cry under the sheets at night or in the shower. They may pretend everything is fine in their life. Your FS might love the rain and may have sinus issues too.

Career-wise, they are doing great, and they sound like someone who worked their ass hard to stand where they're right now. They are cautious with their money and might even dress "down" on purpose. They are not flashy and come from a respectable background. They hate to depend on others. They can be the type to pay for a dinner when going out with friends and family. They may donate to charity but won't spend a dime on that overpriced product. Humble and down to earth. They have a stable job and for some of you, your FS can be self-employed as well. They can be someone who hates loans/debts and has enough savings in their bank account.

For physical and emotional characteristics, your FS can have darker hair/eyes. For a woman, she can have long dark wavy-straight hair, THICC body and for a man, he can have head full of hair enough to style however he wanted. He can have a thick beard too but might prefer a stubble beard. Your FS may have Jupiter in earth signs or Saturn in water signs. For some of you, your FS can be close to your age and for others, they can be significantly younger than you. Also, I am seeing that some of you who chose this pile can be in their late 20s or even in their 30s,40s. Spouse can look 2-3 shades darker than you or can have a slight tan.

Check out my pinned post for a complete FS reading (Whispers of the Vow)!

Pile 4

WOW, your FS energy is coming fast. Some of you could have recently had your birthday or could have celebrated anything very recently, something personal to you. It could be a family gathering or a wedding too. When it comes to meeting your FS, you may have one person in your mind and can doubt yourself whether it's them or not. You may currently try to gain info about someone you know. It can be a crush too. But the feelings aren't reciprocated here. If you wanna know, if they are your FS, nope, they're not. You won't come to know who your FS is until you let go of the person in your mind right now. I'm seeing that you may meet your FS within next April. But it doesn't guarantee a face-to-face meeting. You might come to know who they are but meet them in person awhile later. It can happen next year. But if you didn't let go of the person you have in your mind right now, this can delay the timing even more. For some of you, it's within this year.

Personality-wise, your FS is a total package. Husband/wife material. It may even sound too good to be true for you when you hear about them for the first time. Yes, people around you would talk about them casually, and you would happen to be there to hear about them. They can be a private person and may not even have a social media presence. If so, they won't prefer posting pictures of themselves and can just have it for work. Mysterious and even people around them won't know if they're single or not. I'm seeing that they are currently single and enjoying their life with their family and friends. They can be career-minded. They are the type of person who sacrifices their sleep, health or anything for success professionally. They're currently busy and can be carrying a lot of burden on their back. Your FS can be someone who hates crowds and may like to visit places with little to no human interaction. They are good with words and hit people with surgical precision even though they know that they have a sharp tongue. Also, your FS is giving me ADHD vibes. Damn, can get easily distracted. They may do 5 things at once and finish none. They may pour their heart into a project for straight 6 months and completely abandon it one day. Small inconveniences in daily life can frustrate them. Not the one to get angry easily but the one to hold it for a long time and erupt like a volcano one day. They can be popular in their circle even though they keep things low-key and won't prefer attention.

Career-wise, your FS could hold a high-level position in a corporate role or in managerial roles. Well-paying job. For some of you, your FS can have a secondary source of income either by pursuing their passion on the side or through investments. Your Fs won't pay much attention to their personal life as they can be a busy body all day. Damn, the spirits are telling me that your FS is a machine. They are good at multi-tasking. Even if life throws obstacles on their way, they are the type to dust it off and move on like nothing happened. Unstoppable. Your FS can have a huge network of people, and they make sure to maintain a cordial relationship with their friends and acquaintances. For most of you, your FS owns a car.

For physical and emotional characteristics, your FS would be closer to your height, and you can have a 2-5-year age gap with them. They can have some nerve issues, nothing serious. They just live in a lifestyle that demands a lot from them and so they pay less attention to themselves. They may ignore signs until someone drags them to the ER. They can have a small belly or dry skin. If they are a man, they might not even take care of their skin. For a woman, she might skip meals or have poor eating choices and also body image issues. Still, their presence alone is enough to attract people. Your FS can have lighter hair or likes to dye their hair in lighter shades. Also, they can deal with constipation too. They can be a fire rising or can have Jupiter in 1st, 4th, 5th, 7th or 10th houses. Their Sun can be in the 11th or 12th house.

Check out my pinned post for a complete FS reading (Whispers of the Vow)!

[rockwoodchevy]

Pneumonia

Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

summary: you're feeling icky today but Joel has patrol. unfortunately, it's more serious than either of you thought.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: illness, fainting

a/n: hi everyone! it's been a hot minute since I posted anything so here is a little thing I worked on between work. let me know what you all think! enjoy!

__________________________________________________

“Joel, please don’t go out today.” You ask, sniffling to yourself. 

You know that you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather recently, chest feeling heavy and thick with something that you cannot quite put your finger on. The world seems dizzying almost, weighed down by something you can’t quite place your finger on. The thought of being alone right now makes you anxious, especially when you don’t know exactly what is wrong.

”You know that I have to. Town’s getting bigger by the month and we need people out on patrol.”

”Just this once? I’m just… feeling down in the dumps right now.”

Joel turned to look at you sitting in the bed. He noticed that you looked a bit pale recently and could hear the slight sniffles you were releasing, but he talked it up to you having a small cold. He would be back in about 12 hours so he wasn’t too worried.

”I have’ta go, honey. I won’t be gone long. Plus, Ellie will be here to keep you company. I’ll ask her to stick around for a while.”

”Please, Joel? I really don’t… I just think something is wrong with me.”

”I probably just have a bug, I know something has been going around lately in town. Just try and sleep it off, maybe Maria has something for you to take. I’m sorry but I gotta go.”  

Joel places a quick kiss to your forehead, eyebrows furrowing when he realizes that you are a bit warm. He decides to shrug it off as the small illness some people in town are fighting right now, straightening back up. 

“I’ll be back later tonight. Just… rest, alright?” 

You’re too fatigued to continue arguing with him. You nod your head, resigning from the conversation. He dips his head at you one time, grabbing his bag and heading out the door.

”Love ya, hon!” He yells from downstairs. 

You’re too tired to yell anything back, laying back in your spot and throwing the blanket off of your body. You feel like you’ve already sweat through the sheets and your stomach rolls and turns. Bless him for putting the garbage can in here, you think to yourself as you lean over the side of the bed, feeling like the breakfast you forced down this morning was coming back up for an encore. To your dismay, nothing comes up and your stomach continues to feel the same way it did a few moments ago. Throwing yourself on your back in your spot again with an arm tossed over your eyes, you drift off to sleep praying to whoever is out there that Joel’s patrol shift flies by.

____________________________________

You think you’re dreaming still, but you can hear a voice calling out your name. Blinking a bit, your vision clears and you see Ellie sitting on Joel’s side of the bed, a concerned look on her face.

”Damn, and I thought that Joel slept like the dead.” She said, quietly.

”Sorry, El,” you croaked out to her, sitting up. “Just not feeling too hot today.”

“That’s what Joel told me. Asked me to come and watch you for a bit.”

Once you were completely sat up, Ellie reached her out to your forehead, placing the back of her hand against it.

”He said you were warm but I didn’t think you were this warm.”

”I’m alright. Joel thinks I have that stupid bug going around right now.” You say, looking down at your hands in your lap. You hear Ellie say your name and you look back up at her.

”I don’t know about that, I’ve seen the people who have the bug and they aren’t close to as bad as you look.”

”Gee, thanks El.” You roll your eyes, turning to move out of the bed.

You stand even though it makes you feel slightly dizzy. Stretching out your body, you turn back to Ellie who is tracking your every movement.

”I hope you didn’t have to cancel any plans just to come and babysit me today.” 

“Nah,” Ellie stands from her spot. “Was just gonna go and see the movie they were playing today. Guess it's a new one that someone found while on patrol or something.”

Now you felt bad that Ellie had to change her plans just to come and take care of you. Shaking your head, you move for the dresser.

”No way, Jose. I’m taking you to watch that movie.” The sentence barely finishes coming out of your mouth before a cough attack happens. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea, dude, you look like walking death.”

You turn towards her, a look of determination on your face. “Absolutely not, we are going to see that movie if it kills me.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but gives in. She knows that if you are able to fight Joel hard enough for him to give in, then she has no shot against you. She nods, throwing her hands up.

”Alright, alright. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

________________________________

The winter air outside feels like Heaven against your skin, which you know is still sweaty regardless of how cold it is outside. Ellie and yourself are walking side by side as you approach the town center where the movie will be playing tonight. She looks at you warily, worried about your well-being.

”You sure about this? We can always just stay at your place, play a game or make fun of Joel or something.”

You laugh slightly but that turns into a full blown coughing attack. “Yeah, I’m sure. I feel fine, actually.” 

That was a big ol’ lie. 

Ellie nods as you both enter the hall. She searches for someone, you aren’t sure who, but her eyes brighten a bit once she sees them. 

“I’ll be right over there if you need me!” She points as she runs off in the opposite direction. You nod to no one, moving to the back of the room to stay out of the way of everybody.

The movie, apparently something called ‘Angels in the Outfield’, plays for a little while before you see someone walking over to you in your peripheral vision. Turning your head, you see Tommy heading your direction. You smile at him slightly, but his mouth is downturned as he approaches you.

”Whatr’ya doing here, huh?” He says, his arms crossed over her chest. “Joel said you weren’t feelin’ too hot.”

”I’m fine,” You say back, though you can tell he knows that you’re lying. “Just a little bug. He had poor Ellie cancel her plans just to watch me while he was gone but I couldn’t let her do that so I brought her here to see the movie.”

”You sure about that? You look like death.” He moves a hand towards your forehead but you move before he can touch your skin.

”Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m alright! Peachy actually. It’s just a little warm in here is all.” You respond, rolling your aching shoulders back. 

Tommy gives you an odd look. You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “What?” You question.

”Warm? In here?” 

“Yeah,” a look on your face like he said something ridiculous. “I’m sweatin’ like a whore in church.”

He says your name, resting a hand on your shoulder. You raise an eyebrow at him.

”The heatin’ in here broke 4 days ago. It’s, like, 65 degrees in here.”

Your stomach flips again like it did earlier today. How could that be? You’ve been sweating for a while now, you figured maybe the people in here were still cold from the outside air since they all had their coats and jackets on still. You’re confused suddenly, almost a panicked feeling running through your body. You look at Tommy, placing a hand on the arm that is still attached to your shoulder. 

“Tommy, I don’t feel so good.” You tell him, the room spinning slightly.

He looks extremely worried now, placing his arm around your shoulder. He begins to lead you towards someone else in the hall.

”We should get you to the infirmary. Let’s go get Maria, huh?”

His voice sounds a bit far away and your vision tunnels before it blacks out. You don’t feel your knees give out as your body collapses to the floor, your head barely missing the ground as Tommy goes down with you. Tommy yells out for help from anyone, also yelling for both Maria and Ellie as he keeps your head up, lightly tapping your cheeks to see if you’ll come to. A few moments pass before both Maria and Ellie are around your body, some other citizens now on the ground trying to help in any way they can. 

_____________________________________

By the time you come to, you’re laying on a tiny cot in a small room that smells like antiseptic. You take a deep breath, moving to rub your eyes. You hear your name and move your head to see both Maria and Ellie, Ellie now standing over you, your hand in hers and Maria still in her seat. 

“I’m so sorry, I should have made us stay at your house! That was such a bad idea, oh Christ, Joel is gonna be SO mad at me-“ Ellie practically rants. You shush her, moving to sit up in the bed.

”Ellie, it’s alright. It was my idea anyways, so I’m the one that he’ll be upset with, not you.” You squeeze her hand. She smiles slightly at you. “What happened, anyway? I was talking to Tommy and now I’m waking up here.”

”You fainted. Tommy said he was bringing you here and then all of a sudden, you were on the ground. Doctor said you have some sort of lung thing that starts with a P but it doesn’t sound like it.”

”Pneumonia?” Both you and Maria say at the same time, though yours sounded more like a question and her more like an answer. You look over at her.

”It’s pneumonia. Doctor said they have some antibiotics you can take for a little while. You scared the shit out of us, you know?” Maria said.

”I’m sorry. I thought I just had that bug going around.” You groaned at your aching body. “Where’s Tommy?” 

Ellie and Maria looked at each other. 

“He’s riding out to get Joel. We tried to tell him that his shift would be over in a few hours but he said Joel would have a conniption fit if he found out after he got back. He left about half an hour ago so it may be a little bit until they get back.” Maria told you, standing and grabbing a bottle of water off the floor to give to you. You took it gladly, drinking almost half of it in one go. ”Doctor said you’re good to go once you feel like it. You wanna stay for a bit or head back to your place?” 

You shook your head. “I wanna go home. Be in my own bed. Plus I’m sure that will be the first place Joel will go so…”

Ellie and Maria both nod and help you up from the bed. They help to keep you steady as you all walk back to the house. Once you arrive, you sit on the couch in the living room, Ellie on the other side of you. She refused to let go of your hand the whole way home and still won’t now. Maria stands by the front window, searching for both Tommy and Joel. All three of you have casual conversation, save for your couple of coughing fits. About an hour later, as Maria is finishing up a story, she stops mid-sentence. You and Ellie both look at her weirdly before she starts again.

”Joel runs pretty fast for an old man.”

Your stomach flips one more time as you anticipate Joel’s arrival any minute. You can feel your heart rate spike, heat in your veins. Ellie’s thumb brushed back and forth on your hand for a second, catching your eye. She opened her mouth to say something, but the front door slammed open. All three of you looked towards it at once, Joel barreling in with Tommy not far behind him. Joel’s eyes fell in you, looking distressed and uneasy. 

“Baby…” A breath fell from his lips. 

You stood from your spot on the couch to approach him, but he was much faster. He swiftly made his way over to you, engulfing you in what you think may be the tightest hug in all of human history. Squished to his chest, cheek pressed up against his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around you as taut as they could. You could feel the quick rise and fall of his chest, his rapid heartbeat. 

“Let's leave them be.” You could hear Tommy say from the doorway. You could hear both Ellie and Maria move throughout the room to the exit, the door closing behind them. 

You both stood there for a minute, Joel holding you to him and you enjoying the comfort of his arms. You missed him, even for the less than twelve hours that he was gone. You missed him every second he wasn’t by your side, which unfortunately was more often than you would both like due to his patrol and you helping out with the cattle some days. Regardless, you both made what you could out of the time you both got together. It was incredible to see Joel’s growth since you both settled down in Jackson, how he began to open himself up more. He seemed less stressed all the time, his shoulders not carrying the weight that they used to. But you know that now that all three of you are settled, he feels like he needs to pull his weight in making sure the town stays safe. But you know him well, and you know that he probably feels beyond guilty right now knowing what happened to you after he left for patrol even though you practically begged for him to stay with you. 

“Joel-” You whispered into his shoulder.

“Don’t. Just… let me hold you a second longer.” He responded, voice tight in his chest. 

You obliged him, just standing in his grip. After a few more moments, his hold on you loosened and he pulled back a bit. His hands gripped your upper arms, holding you out in front of him. His eyes scanned over your body, searching for something you weren’t sure of. 

“I’m alright.” You mutter to him.

His eyes snap back up to yours, searching them like he’s looking for something specific. 

“What the fuck happened?” He asks, running one of his hands down to yours, bringing it to his lips and pressing short kisses to your knuckles. 

“I can’t believe you told Ellie to cancel her plans just to watch me.” You changed the subject, slightly upset with him.

“That isn’t what I asked, honey.” He responded, his lips still brushing against the skin on your hands. 

“I don’t care, why would y-”

You were cut off by his gruff voice saying your name in a tone, that tone where you know he isn’t playing. You sigh, moving away from him to sit down again. You take a breath to start explaining to him, but get cut off by a rough coughing fit. Joel immediately sat down next to you, a hand patting your back. After a quick moment, the coughing stops.

“I took Ellie to see the movie because I felt bad that her plans got cancelled because of me. Tommy saw me, which I don’t appreciate you just yapping to people that I’m not feeling well by the way, and pretty much wrung my ass because I was out. I told him that I was hot in the hall and he said something about the heating breaking and apparently it was super cold in there so he wanted to take me to the infirmary but I got dizzy and confused and all of a sudden, I was waking up at the infirmary. Doctor said something about me having pneumonia.”

Joel remained silent for a moment before you finally looked up at him. You almost couldn’t believe it, but his lower lash line was stinging with tears.

“...I left you alone while you had pneumonia?”

“Joel, I’m fine really. It isn’t that big of a deal really-”

“Yes, it is!” He exclaimed. “You practically begged me to stay home with you this morning and I just left!” He stood from his spot, a hand on his forehead.

“Doesn’t matter if you stayed home or not. If my body was going to give up on itself, it would have done it regardless of you being here or not.” You stand shakily. Joel immediately had his hands on you, making sure you were steady.

“But I still coulda been there. Christ, honey, do you know how far my heart dropped into my ass when I saw Tommy riding towards me like that? He wouldn’ta come all the way out there for any reason except you so I knew something happened to ya. Scared me shitless, know that?” 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. “I really thought I was alright. Just… I don’t know, this morning I thought I just had anxiety about you leaving but I guess my head just knew something was wrong.”

“You ain’t got a reason to apologize. I’m the one that should be sorry for not listening to ya this morning. You never ask me to stay home like that so I shoulda knew there was something wrong.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in towards him. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, causing you to smile. 

“Can’t we both just be sorry and call it a day? I missed you and my body feels like jello.”

You can hear him huff out a laugh, placing a second kiss to your forehead.

“Course we can. Not letting you go for a while. I already told Tommy he’ll have to find someone to take my next few patrol shifts because I am not lettin’ you out of my sight until I feel like you’re 100% recovered.” He moves your body back from him by your shoulders, his thumbs tracing small circles there as well. 

“Think we have ingredients for you to make me soup?” You ask him, trying to clear your throat. 

“Even if we don’t, I’ll raid this whole town to find some. Do anything for you.” He replies. 

And you just smile at him, because you know he’s not joking.

[saturnscafe]

͙˚ ༘✶Big Bad Wolf | Werewolf Boyfriend? (Female Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s a little longer than I anticipated however I just adore it. I hope you all will enjoy it as well!

-🪐

He was known as the as the asshole of the college. Always picking fights and going after anyone who even dared breathe in his direction. He stood tall, muscular with scars that decorated his face and arms. His wolf ears standing at attention but not listening to anything that was around him. Everyone avoided him like the plague even you. However today had other plans.

You were sprinting down the hall, trying to get away from some asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer. When you ran face first into his broad chest. He was ready to say something to you until he saw the other man that trailed behind you. He grabbed you by the waist moving you to behind him before locking eyes with the other guy.

“Get lost” he said in annoyance. The other guys eyes looked over at you then back at him. Was he really willing to pick this fight?

“Dude Kyzer relax, just- just let me get my girl and we can forget any of this happened” the man said trying to grab for you.

Before you knew it he had the guys arm twisting it. “I said.” He growled. “Get lost”. His grip on his arm tightened nails digging in before pushing him away. The other man admitted defeat walking back with his tail between his legs.

Kyzer looked at you glaring down at your shaken body. “You good?” He asks surprising you even more. You don’t respond though, mind still in flight mode. He placed his hand under your chin lifting it up to look at him “hello? Are you good?” He said sternly.

You quickly nod snapping back to reality “yeah- yeah I’m good, sorry. Uhm- thank you.” You rambled out. You swear you saw a smile creep on his face but it was quickly gone.

He cleared his throat “if he tries anything again uhm?” He said hinting at you to tell him your name.

“Oh, uhm y/n” you said.

“If he tries anything again y/n, you come to me yeah? I’ll put his ass in the ground” he said with a twisted grin before walking off.

What was that? Was he actually nice? Or did you just catch him on a good day? No matter you went about your day. Going home and studying before getting the idea to bake him something to say thank you. Maybe he wasn’t so bad? Maybe this could be a way to get him to open up? But why did you want that? You scratched your brain, shit- did you like him? No, no that’s crazy. You still baked him something treats to take to him, hopefully he liked cookies.

The next day, you found him in his usual spot. Sitting at the tree while he ate his lunch. He looked peaceful as he ate, listing to some music and flipping through a book. You were so nervous to approach him but you did. Tapping him on the shoulder he turned his head quick. Ready to scream at whoever dared to disturb his peace. Until he noticed it was you, he tilted his head a bit like a puppy.

“Sorry for bothering you- I- uhm- made you these. As a thank you” you said sheepishly handing him the small container of cookies. He blinked, processing what you just said. No one’s ever really shown him much kindness. Even for doing something good like he had for you. So to say he was taken aback was an understatement.

“You made these for me?” He asked repeating your words.

You nod smiling at him shyly. “Yeah, if it wasn’t for you I- I don’t know what would have happened” you admit.

He felt his cold heart warm, pounding so loud he thought you could hear it. He looked over your face trying to read you. Fuck were you this cute yesterday? “Thank you” he said taking the container. He opened it right away the smell of the cookies making him sigh happily. “They smell delicious” he said smiling down at them.

He’s smiling? He’s smiling! Your heart skipped a beat seeing his pretty smile. Those sharp pearly whites of his made your body warm. Your face must have been red cause he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re cute” he said. It slipping past his lips before he could even stop himself. The compliment only making your face turn more red.

“I- uhm- thank you” you said feeling like you could puke at any second from the butterflies. “You’re not so bad yourself” you said with a smile.

His face started turning red, before he quickly turned away. “You uhm- you like movies?” He asked feeling stupid at his question. When you nodded his words came out fast “you wanna watch a movie later?” Fuck why’d he say that, his place was a wreck.

“Sure!” You said smiling like a dummy. “I just got a new system, we could watch it at my place?” You said.

“Cool, cool. What’s your number? So uhm- I can get your address” he said trying to play it cool. After exchanging numbers your alarm for your next class goes off making you jump. “I’m guessing no horror movies if you jump that bad from a phone” he teased.

You rolled your eyes “I’m gonna be late, I’ll text you my address. 7 sound alright?” You ask.

“Perfect” he said.

And you were off, sprinting to your next class.

His mind twirled with the thought of you. Fuck what did he get himself into? He doesn’t talk to many people nor has he ever had an actual relationship let alone a date. Sure he’s had his share of hook ups but that’s about as deep as it went. What the hell was he gonna do?

When the time came he stood outside your door taking a deep breath before knocking. When you answered his heart raced, here you were in sweats and a hoodie. How the hell did you look so good? When he walked in the smell of you overflowed him almost making him dizzy. You guided him into the living room where you had a bunch of blankets on your pool out. You were gonna be on a pull out bed. A bed. The two of you. His cock twitched in his pants at the mere thought of it.

“I’m sorry my place is a bit of a mess, but I got the couch all cozy. Oh and I have a bunch of snacks if you’re hungry” you said with a shy smile. He nodded following you to the pull out, when he sat down the scent of you was even stronger. Probably from all the covers you gathered from your bed. “Wanna watch a horror movie?” You asked flickering through the movies on the tv.

“Sounds goo- wait” he said looking at the screen. “You like that show?” He asked seeing a show you were watching earlier. It being one of your favorites.

“Uh yeah! It’s like one of my favorites I’m rewatching it since the new seasons gonna be coming out” you said smiling.

“No way! It’s one of my favorites, I’m super excited for the new season! I even have a poster of it in my room!” He rambled. It was cute seeing him all excited over something he liked. Seeing his cute smile light up.

“Maybe when the new season comes out we can have a watch party? I’ll make us some dinner and we can binge watch it” you said.

“Sounds perfect” he said back. It felt nice being able to talk to someone. To have something in common with you too.

You both decided on a movie, getting all covered up as it started. He was nervous to move closer to you but you were feeling a bit bold so you Scooted closer. Your shoulder touching now bodies close to one another. The scent of you driving him crazy more so now that he could feel your warmth. He moved his arm, to finally wrap around you “uhm- is this ok?” He said softly.

You nodded “aren’t horror movies the best ones to cuddle up too?” You said laying your head on him.

“Is that why you picked it” he said back in a teasing tone.

“Maybe”

“In that case why don’t we lay down in cuddle hmm? I mean we got this whole bed in all” he said with a smirk.

He was surprised that you instantly moved letting him lay behind you so you could both could watch the movie properly. He took his spot behind you wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body as close as he possibly could. His hand rested on your waist holding you tightly. His mind swirled with your scent god how was this happening to him?

A few minutes passed as you focused on the movie. Being painfully aware of the man behind you as he pressed himself against you. You could feel his girth cock pressing against your ass and you couldn’t help yourself. Grinding back against him, he let out a groan barely audible if it weren’t for him being so close. The sound of him turning you on way more than you thought it would. He didn’t stop you though, letting you rut yourself against him. Finally getting some friction.

His hand that was resting on your waist squeezed at every movement. You could hear faint ‘fucks’ coming from him only driving the want higher. The movement of you paired with the sweet smell of your dripping cunt was becoming too much for him. His hands hooked your at your pants “can I take these off?” He said softly.

You nodded letting him rid you of your sweats and your panties. He pushed his pants down after taking yours off. His big cock springing free finally. You could finally feel how big he truly was, fuck did you want him. His hands glided down your body moving your leg over his. His long fingers pressed against your needy nub making you whimper. His face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he licked up it.

His fingers lazy played with your clit before roaming further down. He couldn’t believe how wet you were, how wet you were for him. His fingers finally pushed into your dripping core curling ever so nicely. His movements were just as lazy, his thumb pressing against your clit once more. His mouth watered at the smell of you. He needed to taste you, and he needed to do it right now. With no warning he pulled himself from you quickly moving his body down yours.

He dived into your cunt, tongue quickly pushing into your folds. The moan you let out made his cock twitch. It was already leaking like a faucet ready to be buried inside you. “Fuck you taste even better than those cookies you made me” he said. His hands hooked around your legs pulling you closer to him as he ate you out like a starved animal. His tongue pushed deep inside you twirling around your tight walls. Your hands gripped at anything before gripping at his hair. You tugged on it softly making him groan “pull- ah- harder” he said. Of course you listened, tugging on his hair harshly pushing him somehow deeper into your cunt.

He felt like he was in heaven, fuck this must be heaven. Your cunt clenched around his tongue, knowing you were close he moved his hand to toy with your clit yet again. It didn’t take long after that for you to cum. Your body arched off the bed moans getting trapped in your throat only breathes making it past. He lapped up any of your sweet honey that dared to escape. Licking you clean before moving upwards to you. He kissed you messily. His cock head poking at your entrance.

Without any thoughts you moved yourself down letting his thick cock push into you. The stretch wasn’t bad, in fact the slight pain felt good. “Sh-shit” he moaned against your lips.

“Please- move” you whined out bucking your hips into him. His eyes met yours and what a sight to see. Your eyes were glazed over, cheeks flushed red. Fuck did you look so good. He blinked a second before everything sunk in. Your warm walls squeezing him so tightly. He started to move slowly before picking up speed.

His hands moved down pushing your shirt up. You quickly helped taking it off as he took his off too. He was delighted to see you didn’t even have a bra on either. His hands roamed your plush body, pinching at your perky nipples. He was quickly losing himself in you. His movements were becoming faster as his high was reaching near. “God you feel so fucking good, was this your plan all along huh? Get the big bad wolf all alone in your house to fuck you like a wild animal?” He teased.

“You- ah- you started it. You’re the one that was pressing there big dumb cock against me” you retorted.

“Can’t- can’t help it when you smell so good” he said back.

His movements were slowing down a bit making you whine. “Getting tired already? Need- ah need me to ride you?” You said with a grin. You felt his cock twitch at your words oh he definitely liked that idea. He wrapped his arms around you before lying flat on his back. Your legs straddled him the new position making him feel even deeper. His hands laid on your thighs those sharp nails digging into the soft skin.

As much as he wanted to show you how much of a big bad wolf he was he couldn’t help it. You were just too much for him, he was like some puppy dog that you had wrapped around your finger. When you finally got your feet in a proper spot you started moving. Bouncing up and down on his stupidly big cock. His knot forming as if his against your entrance. He watched as your tits bounced with every movement. His long tongue hung out of his mouth drool pooling with it.

“Fuck- just like that- ah” he moaned out. “Gonna let me knot you? Fuck please let me- need- need to breed you- ah- ah” he was such a mess under you. Your legs shook at the sight of him at his words. An orgasm washed over you without warning. Your body felt almost limp as it laid on top of him.

“I’m yours-“ you said in almost a whisper against his chest but he heard it. Oh boy did he hear it loud and clear. His hands gripped at your ass, fucking up into you with force.

“You’re mine? All mine?” He growled. “Good- all mine to- ah fuck- to breed- to claim- mine- mine” he kept repeating. Your hands that laid on his chest stared to dig in it his toned muscle. The slight pain Only driving him to fuck you harder. “Gonna take it all yeah? Gonna take everything I can give you- you’re mine. Mine.” He said.

“Yours. All yours.” You said softly against him. When those words finally left your lips that was it. He pushed up into you with one final thrust, his knot pushing past your entrance. The feeling alone bringing on another strong orgasm as you felt his balls empty inside you. His head that was nuzzled into your neck moved as he sunk his teeth deep into you. The pain the pleasure the everything of the situation had your mind floating. Your body shook harshly as you felt yourself squirting all over his cock and yourselves.

He let out a low growl holding your body tightly to him. He held you against him as you both came down from the intense orgasms. “You did so well” he almost purred into your ear.

A few minutes of silence mixed with heavy breathing filed the air before he spoke once more. “You really meant it right? That you’re all mine?” He asked sheepishly, afraid you’d take it back.

“I meant every word of it.” You said smiling. You kissed his cheek softly holding tightly to him.

You might have only known him as the asshole of the college but now. You were seeing him for who he truly was. He would let everyone believe he was still this big bad wolf that didn’t take anything from anyone. However when it came to you he was just a sweet overgrown puppy that would do anything for you.

[hamilton-here]

heyyy i hope youre doing fine now :))) before i forget this (lol) can I request a reader x lewis with a comfortxangst that whenever lewis is on the track he doesnt mind if he can get injured or hurt while reader has been telling him to be careful and theyre always arguing over it and when he gets into a nasty crash reader reveals that she's pregnant and he'll be more careful now i just think this will be a reminder that f1 is a highly dangerous sportttt u can do this anytime u feel like it thank uuuu

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒰𝓈

Authors Note: Hey everyone, I'm alive! I will be opening requests later tonight. Though I still have three to do after this one. Hopefully this meets your request. I hope you're all well. Lots of love xx

Summary: Lewis Hamilton learns to race to come home after discovering he’s going to be a father.

Warnings: angst, mentions of swearing, mentions of crash

Taglist: @piston-cup @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You had always known that loving Lewis Hamilton came with risks.

It wasn’t just the time zones or the endless race weekends. It wasn’t the relentless moving, the constant packing and unpacking, the brief kisses goodbye that always tasted like he was already half gone.

It was what he chased. The high-speed danger of Formula 1. The knowledge that every time he stepped into that cockpit, he was gambling with gravity, dancing on the edge of control.

And still, you loved him.

You loved him because he was that person. Fearless. Passionate. Relentless. A man who didn’t know how to step back from a fight, who didn’t know how to race at anything less than the limit.

But that edge, the one that had drawn you to him like a moth to flame, had started to scare you now. It used to be thrilling to watch him thread the car through gaps that didn’t exist, to see him make impossible moves look effortless. You used to sit on the pit wall with your heart racing, smiling through your adrenaline-soaked nerves.

But now?

Now the thrill had warped into dread.

Lewis was older now.

In his Ferrari era, wearing the red that somehow made him look even more untouchable. The fire still burned in him, maybe brighter than ever but it had changed. He wasn’t chasing numbers anymore. He wasn’t chasing records.

He was chasing something more personal. Legacy. Purpose. A mark that no one could ever erase.

You had admired that. You still did. But lately, you’d started to hate what it could cost.

You.

“Be careful today,” you said softly, your fingertips grazing the tattoo on his chest as he zipped up his race suit, the Ferrari crest sitting proudly over his heart.

The Maranello red suited him. Too well. Like he’d always been meant to wear it. Like he was born to be exactly here, in this era, fighting for something only he could see.

He caught your eyes in the mirror and smiled - that easy, boyish smile that always seemed to dissolve your nerves. It was infuriating. It was comforting.

It was Lewis.

“Always am.”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling. “That’s not true.”

You sat down on the edge of the hotel bed, wringing your hands in your lap as the words gathered thickly in your throat.

“You take risks you don’t need to. You push when you don’t have to.”

His back stiffened just slightly as he adjusted the collar of his suit, eyes flicking down to his gloves as if focusing on something else would make this conversation pass quicker.

“It’s what I do,” he said quietly, not looking at you. “It’s who I am.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s racing.”

“And racing can kill you.”

The words came out harder than you’d intended, but they were sitting on your chest like a weight, and you couldn’t hold them in anymore.

You needed him to hear you. Really hear you.

He turned toward you slowly, his expression softening, like he’d expected this argument but still didn’t know how to solve it. “You can’t think like that, baby. If I go out there scared, I won’t be me anymore. I can’t race like that. You know that.”

Your fingernails dug into your palms, your skin pinching painfully, the only thing grounding you in this moment. “Then what am I supposed to do? Sit here every weekend waiting for the phone call that you’re not coming back?”

His face dropped just slightly, a flicker of something like guilt, maybe shadowing his eyes.

“You’ve never gotten that phone call,” he said softly, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

“But one day I could.”

The words landed like a crack of thunder, final and brutal.

You’d both been tiptoeing around this truth for too long. You couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t clawing at you, waiting at the edge of every race weekend. The silence that stretched between you was suffocating. It thinned the air like you were both standing at the top of Eau Rouge, hearts in your throats, waiting for the drop.

Lewis finally crossed the room, crouching in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

“Look at me,” he said gently, his thumbs stroking soft circles against your skin. “I know you’re scared. I know. But I need you to trust me. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing.”

You looked into his eyes, those deep, familiar eyes that had always made you feel safe.

But this wasn’t about trust. It was about probability. Followed about the brutal, unforgiving statistics of a sport that took as much as it gave.

“You’re not twenty-five anymore, Lewis,” you whispered, your voice tight and trembling. “Your body can’t bounce back the way it used to.”

He exhaled a soft, almost amused laugh, but you could see the flicker of frustration tightening his jaw. “You sound like my physio.”

“Maybe she’s right.”

His hands squeezed yours, as if he could physically press reassurance into you. “I’ve got this, love. Don’t worry so much.”

But you did. You always did.

You worried through every corner, every pit stop, every time the camera cut to his onboard view, and you saw him chasing every millimetre like it was oxygen.

You worried because you loved him.

And the worst part? You didn’t even know yet that you were worrying for two.

However, it kept happening. Race after race. Argument after argument. Like clockwork.

You told yourself it was just the pressure of the season and the weight of Ferrari’s expectations pressing against his shoulders. Or the noise of the media questioning if he could still deliver at this stage of his career, the brutal self-imposed bar that Lewis never stopped raising.

You told yourself it was temporary.

You told yourself he would slow down.

But the more you watched him, the more you realised this wasn’t new at all.

Lewis had always raced like he didn’t care what happened to him.

And the terrible consequence?

You’d fallen in love with him because of that edge.

The way he danced so close to the line no one else dared to touch. The way he made you feel like the impossible was always just within reach.

But love changes things. Love rearranges your priorities. What used to thrill you now terrified you.

It was after the Spanish Grand Prix when the next argument exploded.

You waited for him in his driver’s room, the race replay still playing on mute on the little screen in the corner, but neither of you were paying attention. You’d seen it all live.

You’d seen him fight tooth and nail into Turn 3, holding a defensive line most drivers would’ve abandoned, forcing the other car wide, balancing on the edge of disaster.

You’d seen him almost lose control.

You’d felt your lungs collapse in that split second.

You’d felt your heart stop.

“You could’ve gone into the wall!” Your voice cracked, the panic still clawing its way up your throat, your whole-body trembling with leftover adrenaline.

“But I didn’t,” he said simply, pulling off his gloves, peeling away his sweat-soaked balaclava like it was just another Sunday.

“You didn’t this time.”

He turned to you sharply, exhaustion painting his features, his patience threadbare. “What do you want me to do? Let them pass me? Sit back and wave them through?”

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. “I want you to come home.”

His jaw clenched, his mouth flattening into a hard, unreadable line. “You knew what this was when you met me.”

“I didn’t know it would kill me slowly like this.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Stifling.

His voice dropped to something low, something brittle. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake every time I get in that car? I’m not stupid.”

“Then why don’t you drive like you care whether you come back?”

His head snapped toward you like you’d slapped him. For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you blinked. You felt like you’d crossed some invisible line.

His voice cracked. “I have to race like this. I can’t back down. If I start thinking about what I could lose, I won’t be me anymore.”

You stepped closer, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “You wouldn’t lose me, Lewis. You’d keep me. That’s the point.”

His shoulders sagged like something inside him had caved in. “But I’d lose me.”

It hit you then, like a gut punch. You weren’t just fighting for his safety. You were fighting against the very thing that made him him.

The argument fizzled out, not because you’d resolved it, but because you both knew there was nothing else to say.

That night, when you finally crawled into bed. Lewis wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, pulling you so close it almost hurt, as if holding you would stop the ground from crumbling underneath him.

You pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist, right over the flutter of his pulse. “I’m sorry I keep bringing it up.”

His lips brushed the bare skin of your shoulder, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry I keep making you.”

You both meant it.

But deep down, you knew you’d fight about it again. Because what else could you do? Except keep loving him and praying that one day, he’d finally want to stay.

What neither of you knew then - was that soon, he’d have more to lose than just himself. And you didn’t know it yet, but that knowledge was already beginning to grow inside you.

It started small. So small you barely noticed.

The first time it hit you, you were standing in the kitchen of your Monaco apartment, the pale morning light spilling through the open balcony doors, the breeze carrying the faint scent of saltwater and sun-soaked pavement. You were making coffee just like you always did and pouring Lewis’s favourite beans into the machine, savouring the quiet hum of routine.

But when the coffee began to brew, the bitter familiar aroma suddenly twisted your stomach into tight, unforgiving knots. The sharp nausea hit you so hard and fast you had to grip the counter to steady yourself.

It passed quickly, but it left you shaken. But you brushed it off.

Maybe you hadn’t eaten enough. Maybe you were just overtired. Maybe it was the stress of the season building to a breaking point - the endless race weekends, the airports, the arguments that seemed to linger in the air long after they’d ended.

Maybe it was the weight of loving someone like Lewis Hamilton.

But the nausea didn’t fade. It returned the next day. And the day after that. It lingered when it shouldn’t have, curling around your mornings like smoke, settling in the back of your throat.

You told yourself it was nothing. You told yourself you were being dramatic.

Until you couldn’t tell yourself that anymore.

The exhaustion crept in slowly too.

It wasn’t just tired but was bone-deep, dragging your body down like gravity had doubled its pull on you. No amount of sleep seemed to fix it. No amount of quiet seemed to refill the empty places. You found yourself lying awake long after Lewis had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling, one hand resting absently over your stomach as though some part of you already knew before you dared to say it out loud.

You’d been keeping track in the back of your mind, but you hadn’t wanted to really look at the dates. You hadn’t wanted to connect the dots. Because what if you were wrong? And worse, what if you weren’t?

Until one quiet Wednesday morning.

Lewis had gone out cycling along the Monaco coast - a ritual, something he always did when the pressure got too loud in his head. He’d kissed your temple before he left, his curls still damp from the shower, his skin warm and real beneath your fingertips.

You’d told him to be careful, like you always did. And he’d given you that same soft, teasing smile the one that said Don’t worry about me, love. I’ve got this. The one that never really settled the panic rising in your throat.

When the door closed behind him, the apartment felt impossibly silent.

The echo of the ocean drifted in, soft and distant.

You sat on the cold marble floor of your shared bathroom, your legs folded tightly beneath you, your hands trembling violently as you clutched the little plastic test like it might burn you. Your heart hammered so hard it hurt.

You’re just being paranoid. Or you’re just late because you’re stressed.

It’s just your body playing tricks on you.

But then the lines appeared. Two of them. Bold. Bright. Unmistakable.

Pregnant.

The word slammed into you with the force of a tidal wave. Eyes widening. Pregnant.

You whispered it aloud, your voice breaking as the syllables slipped from your lips like they didn’t belong to you. Like you were watching this happen to someone else. You stared at the test, waiting for it to change, to fade, to dissolve into something deniable. But it didn’t. It stayed. Steady. Unmoving. Certain.

The seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Your knees ached from the cold tile pressing into your skin, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe properly. The air felt too sharp, too thick.

You should’ve felt happy. Maybe you did, somewhere beneath all the static.

But it was buried under something bigger. Something heavier -

Fear.

Not of the baby. Not of being a parent. Not of how your life would change.

But of what if he doesn’t come back?

What if he never meets them?

The thought hollowed you out, cracking something inside you so fast the tears came before you could stop them. You sobbed into your folded knees, your body curling in on itself like you were trying to keep the whole world from falling apart inside your chest.

You weren’t afraid of becoming a mother. You were afraid of becoming one alone. Afraid of raising a child who would only know their father through old race footage and stories told in past tense. Afraid of what it would mean to love someone so fiercely and still not be able to keep them safe.

You wrapped your arms around your stomach, protective already, desperate to shield something so impossibly tiny, so fragile, from the storm you knew was coming. From the father you loved more than anything in the world, who didn’t know how to love himself enough to stay.

You should tell Lewis.

You should call him right now.

But the fear lodged in your throat, thick and unmoving. Would it make him more careful? Would it pull him back from the edge you’d watched him balance on for years?

Or would it push him harder - make him race with even more desperation, as if he needed to outrun time, to win faster, to lock in a legacy before the window slammed shut?

You didn’t know which answer terrified you more.

So you kept it to yourself. For now.

You folded the secret into the quietest places of your chest, tucked it beneath your ribs like maybe, if you just waited long enough, the right moment would come.

After the next race.

After the next fight.

After he’d shown you just once that he could choose to be careful. That he could choose to stay.

But Lewis didn’t slow down.

Not in Japan, Spain or Canada. Not when he skimmed the wall in Austria so close your knees nearly gave out watching the onboard.

You told him to be careful. Again. You begged him. You fought more than you ever had before. You screamed, sobbed and pleaded.

But nothing changed.

And the terrible, suffocating thought began to creep in, gnawing at the edges of your heart like something you couldn’t unthink -

Maybe he wouldn’t ever change.

Maybe nothing would be enough.

Not until something broke. Until the thing you feared most finally happened.

And you prayed desperately that it wouldn’t take a crash to make him finally understand what he was risking. That it wouldn’t take twisted metal and a red flag for him to see that there was more on the line now. That there was someone else on the line now.

But Formula 1 isn’t a sport that hands out second chances so easily.

You knew that. It was always going to break before he listened. The only thing you didn’t know was how much it would shatter you too.

The Spa weekend always terrified you.

There was something about it - a weight in the air, a shadow that lingered over the circuit no matter how bright the skies pretended to be. It wasn’t just the layout, the speed, the razor-thin margins. It was Spa’s reputation. Its history. The corners that swallowed cars whole. The weather that changed in minutes. The ghosts that never really left.

Lewis loved Spa. He always had. He loved it the way he loved anything that challenged him, anything that dared him to go further. And you hated it for exactly the same reason. You hated it because you could feel how alive it made him, how the danger seemed to call to him louder here than anywhere else.

And tonight, sitting in the hotel room the night before the race you hated that you were running out of ways to ask him to stay.

Your voice shook more than you wanted him to notice as you watched him pull on his compression shirt, the muscles in his back still tight from the long, gruelling practice sessions. “Lewis, please,” you whispered, standing by the edge of the bed like you could hold the whole conversation together with just the force of your desperation. “Just promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow.”

His gaze flicked toward you in the mirror, soft but distant, like he was already mentally walking the circuit. “I’m always careful, babe,” he said, pulling the shirt over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric across his chest.

You felt the words lodge in your throat, sharp and unbearable. “You’re not,” you choked out, your fists clenching at your sides. “You’re fast. You’re smart. But you’re not careful. Not when it matters. Not when you’re in the car.”

His sigh came hard, his jaw tightening, the same familiar frustration rising between you. “We’ve been through this -”

“No, you’ve dismissed this,” you cut in, stepping forward, grabbing his arm with both hands like you could physically tether him to the ground, to you. “Every time I bring it up, you act like I’m asking you to give up who you are. But I’m not. I’m not asking you to stop being Lewis Hamilton. I’m asking you to survive.”

His jaw flexed, a muscle twitching there, his body taut like a coiled spring. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Your voice cracked, the ache in your chest breaking loose. “Because the way you’ve been racing this season. It’s like you don’t care what happens to you anymore. Or like you’ve stopped believing you’re mortal.”

His eyes softened, just for a second, but when he pulled his arm away, it was gentle, final. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” You were trembling now, your heart hammering in your ribs, your throat thick with everything you hadn’t yet told him. “And I can’t watch you go out there tomorrow and race like you’ve got nothing to lose. Because you do. You have me. You have us. And -” Your breath faltered, your whole body bracing under the weight of the truth clawing its way to the surface. “You might have more than that soon.”

Lewis blinked, a frown knitting between his brows as he slowly turned to face you fully, finally hearing something in your voice that didn’t match the fight he thought you were having. “What do you mean?”

You almost told him. The words perched right there, aching to be spoken.

Almost.

But the fear twisted in your chest like barbed wire.

What if telling him changed nothing?

What if telling him made him race harder, like he was running out of time?

What if this new pressure only added fuel to the fire he’d never learned how to put out?

You swallowed hard, the moment slipping through your fingers. “Nothing. Just please.” Your voice cracked, desperate and hollow. “Please don’t make me regret tomorrow.”

His features wavered something caught between defiance and something softer, something that almost looked like he wanted to fold into you, like he wanted to end the argument right there and choose you.

But then his guard slid back into place. He reached for his cap, tugging it over his curls, angling it low to shield his eyes. “I know you’re scared. I get it. But you have to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you whispered, your voice barely holding itself upright, “but I don’t trust the sport.”

His hand lingered on the door handle, a silent beat stretching between you like a chasm neither of you knew how to cross. “I can’t race scared,” he said quietly.

“And I can’t love you without being scared,” you whispered back, your voice splintering around the truth.

Silence again. The kind that left you hollow.

“I’ll see you after quali,” he said, soft but firm, stepping out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. The finality of that click shattered you.

You sank to the bed, your hand falling instinctively to your stomach, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered to the tiny life inside you, the secret you’d been carrying like a glass heart.

“Please come back to us.”

Spa had always been cruel.

But you never thought it would be cruel to you.

The next day felt like moving through wet cement. You stood by the pit wall, the headset digging painfully into your ears, your heart pounding so loud you could barely hear the chatter of the engineers. Every breath felt borrowed.

Lewis had qualified third. He was in the fight. He was always in the fight.

But today, his driving was different - aggressive off the line, elbows out, like he was still chasing something invisible, something just out of reach. He’d found something this season with Ferrari, something that made him push like he was twenty-five again, like the weight of his body didn’t matter, like time was still bending to his will.

And you hated him for it. But at the same time you loved him for it. Therefore, it was tearing you apart.

Every lap felt like a gamble you hadn’t agreed to. Every defensive move felt like a warning you couldn’t shake.

Please, slow down. Please, don’t prove me right.

Lap 17. Raidillon.

You felt the sickness rise before it even happened.

The onboards flicked to him fighting for position, side by side with another driver, the track tightening, the line disappearing.

You knew what was coming. You felt it in your bones before the camera even caught it. No margin for error.

The car clipped the kerb. A heartbeat, desperate correction, brush of wheels. Lewis’s car was airborne. It twisted violently, flipping unnaturally, shrapnel spinning across the runoff as the Ferrari slammed into the barriers, skidded, bounced, then crumpled to a halt at a sickening angle.

The screen cut away.

“Red flag. Red flag. Session suspended.”

Your headset slipped from your ears and clattered to the ground, the sound of the paddock dissolving into static. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

The words hammered through your skull.

He’s not moving. He’s not moving. He’s not moving.

You bolted from the pit wall, shoving through engineers, security, the blur of people shouting at you to stop. Let me through. Let me through. Let me through.

You didn’t even realise you were crying until the salt hit your lips. Didn’t realise you were screaming until your throat burned.

By the time you reached the medical car, they were pulling him from the cockpit, his head slack against the halo, the medics stabilising his neck with clinical precision.

“He’s conscious but disoriented,” one of them said, his voice like a distant echo. “Heavy impact, possible concussion. We need scans immediately,” another called.

But you couldn’t hear anything beyond the roar in your ears. You fell to your knees beside the stretcher, your hand finding his glove still on, limp in yours and you sobbed, your body folding over like the weight of him might pull you under.

“Lewis,” you cried, clutching his fingers like they were the only thing tethering you to this earth. “Lewis, I’m here. I’m here. Please - please stay with me.”

His eyelids fluttered, unfocused, the barest hint of a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “You always…worry too much,” he slurred weakly.

“I told you -” Your voice cracked, the tears falling faster now, splashing onto his red race suit, “I told you this would happen.”

“I’m okay,” he whispered, but his voice was thin, as if even he didn’t believe it.

“You’re not.”

The medics ushered you into the ambulance, and you rode the entire way to the medical centre gripping his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, the panic thrumming under your skin like a second heartbeat.

The scans. The blood tests. The neurological checks. You watched all of it through a haze, your body present but your soul still trapped on that corner still watching him fly.

They confirmed a mild concussion. Bruised ribs. No spinal injury. Lucky. They kept saying he was lucky.

But it didn’t feel like luck. It felt like you’d just watched the universe take a coin toss with his life. And one day, you wouldn’t win that toss.

When they finally let you sit with him alone you crumpled into the chair beside his bed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, your voice raw, each word clawing its way up your throat. “You can’t keep making me watch you destroy yourself.”

His tired brown eyes flicked to yours, soft, heavy with guilt. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You always scare me,” you sobbed, your whole-body trembling. “Every race. Every qualifying. Every lap. I can’t do this again.”

His hand found yours, weak but warm, his thumb brushing across your skin in tiny circles, as if that alone might fix all the broken pieces between you.

“I can’t lose you, Lewis,” you choked out, the truth finally too big to swallow. “Not now. Not when -”

Your voice faltered. But you couldn’t stop it now. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed swallowed the room whole. His chest stilled. His lips parted but no sound came. His fingers tightened, the realisation anchoring him back to the present. “You’re serious?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “We, we’re having a baby?”

You nodded, your tears flowing freely. “I found out before this weekend. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if it would change anything. I thought maybe you’d still race like you didn’t care. I thought maybe nothing would be enough.”

His hand cupped your cheek, the weight of his touch soft, trembling. “I didn’t know I was gambling with so much more.”

“You weren’t just gambling with yourself,” you whispered, leaning into his palm. “You were gambling with me. With us. And now with them.”

His other hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently like the world was holding its breath. His eyes filled, his voice thick with something you’d never heard before a vow.

“I have to change,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “I have to be more careful. I have to come back to you. To both of you.”

Your sob broke loose, your forehead resting against his as you finally let yourself believe him. This wasn’t just his life anymore. It was all of yours. And he finally realised he had everything to lose.

Lewis spent three days in the hospital.

Three long, agonising days where time moved in molasses and every beep of the machines laced a fresh layer of panic through your chest.

You never left his side. Not once.

You slept in the stiff, narrow visitor’s chair, curled up in impossible angles, your hand always laced with his like it was your lifeline. The dull ache in your neck and spine didn’t matter. The cold fluorescent lights didn’t matter. The dry hospital air, the stale taste of coffee you could barely choke down - they didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was Lewis, breathing in the bed next to you.

Every time his heart monitor spiked or dipped whether from shifting in his sleep or reacting to pain you jolted awake in terror, your pulse skyrocketing as your hands shot out to steady him. The doctors assured you over and over that he was okay, that his injuries, though painful, were not life-threatening. But they didn’t understand that it wasn’t just his body you were terrified of losing, it was him.

It was the part of him that laughed. The part that loved you. The part that wanted to come home.

When he was finally discharged, you helped him into a quiet car waiting at the hospital entrance, both of you wearing hats pulled low and oversized sunglasses to shield from prying cameras. The media storm had erupted the moment the crash replayed on screens around the world with Ferrari issuing statements, journalists speculating, fans flooding social media with hashtags and heartbreak.

But you didn’t care about any of that.

You just wanted to get him home. Home to Monaco. Home to safety. Home to you.

The flight back was a blur, the low hum of the engines lulling him to sleep in the seat next to you, his head resting carefully against your shoulder while you traced slow, comforting circles on his thigh.

You didn’t let go of him once.

When you got back to your apartment, the world felt oddly still. No race noise, pit wall calls or tension threading through his body. Just soft linen sheets, gentle waves brushing the rocky coastline below the balcony, and the two of you bruised, but breathing.

The first night home, you helped him into bed like he was made of glass.

Every movement was slow, delicate, your hands ghosting over his ribs as you tucked the sheets gently around him, as if the fabric itself could offer protection. He watched you, silent, his usually strong, self-assured frame now resting heavily against the pillows.

You went to step away to grab him some water and get his medication, but his hand caught your wrist. “Baby?” His voice was raw, still cracked around the edges from the lingering pain and the adrenaline crash.

You sat back on the edge of the bed, your thumb automatically sweeping across his hand. “Yeah?”

His eyes flicked down to your stomach, a faint crease forming between his brows.

“Do you think they’re okay?” His voice was so soft, so unsure, it broke your heart open. “I mean we didn’t even get to talk about it properly.”

You guided his hand to rest over your belly, the skin still flat but warm beneath his palm. “They’re okay,” you whispered. “It’s early, but they’re here. We’re here.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as though a weight he hadn’t dared to acknowledge was finally releasing its grip on him. “I want to do this right.”

“You already are,” you said, the words instinctive, immediate.

But he shook his head, his thumb beginning to trace slow, endless circles over your skin, like he was grounding himself to you, to this new future neither of you had been prepared for.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice thick. “I’ve spent my whole career believing I had nothing to lose. That I could risk everything because it was just me on the line. That if I went out, I went out chasing what I loved. But it’s not just me anymore.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his composure finally, finally splintering. “I want to be there for this. I want to be there for you. For them. I want to come home.”

Tears gathered in your eyes, blurring the soft edges of him, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t. “You will,” you promised, your voice barely holding steady as you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his.

His arms, weak and aching, still managed to pull you close, as tight as his bruised ribs would allow. “I’ll race differently. I’ll be smarter. I’m not done with this sport, but I’m done pretending I don’t care what happens to me.”

You smiled through your tears, your hands cradling his face, feeling the faint stubble against your palms. “Good. Because we care.”

His lips found yours slow, lingering, tasting of salt and something unspoken, something that tasted like a vow and for the first time in what felt like months, you let yourself believe him.

Lewis wasn’t making promises to the sport anymore. He was making promises to you. To your family.

The next few weeks moved in quiet rhythms. There was no travel. No schedule. No roaring engines. Just you and him, wrapped in the stillness of recovery.

You spent lazy mornings curled up on the couch, your hand resting over his as you flipped through baby name lists that made him groan and laugh in equal measure.

You caught him absently scrolling through baby gear on his phone, pretending not to care but his favourites folder said otherwise.

He went to physiotherapy religiously, never once skipping, never once complaining not because he was in a rush to return to the car, but because he wanted to heal properly this time. He wanted to be fully here, for you, for the baby.

He skipped the next race without hesitation.

When the media demanded answers, Ferrari’s statement was simple, pointed -

Family first.

And somehow, that meant more than any podium ever could.

He told you about the team’s reaction their genuine concern, their relief that he was okay, the way Charles had immediately texted when he heard about the baby.

Papa Hamilton! Charles had written and according to Lewis, he refused to stop using the nickname, even during debriefs, even when it made Lewis roll his eyes.

Angela cried when you both told her properly, her hug tight, teary, like she’d been waiting for this moment longer than you had.

When Lewis returned to the paddock later that season, something in him had shifted. Something permanent. The fire was still there, the brilliance, the hunger but it burned differently now.

He still attacked the corners, still carved through the grid like poetry, but gone were the reckless dives, the impossible lunges. Gone was the blind refusal to back off. He chose his battles now. He picked his moments. And for the first time, you saw him racing not for the risk but for the return.

Every time he climbed out of the car, the first thing he did was find you whether it was in the garage, in the motorhome, on the pit wall. His hands would find your stomach instinctively, his forehead pressing to yours, his whispered, “We’re good. I’m okay,” easing the weight in your chest.

You still worried. Of course you did. You always would. But now you worried knowing that he was finally racing to come home.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you stood by the pit wall, your hand resting protectively over your now-visible bump, feeling the soft flutter of tiny kicks under your palm as Lewis crossed the finish line.

He finished P4 that day. He didn’t force the podium. He didn’t throw the car into a gap that wasn’t there. But pulled out of a risky move on the final lap, a move the old Lewis would have taken without thinking.

And when the checkered flag waved, and the cheers rippled through the paddock, all you could feel was pride. Not because he won, but because he chose to be careful. When he returned to you, his fireproof suit still clinging to his skin, sweat still beading at his temple, he cupped your face in both hands and kissed you softly, deeply, as if the whole world had narrowed to this moment.

“You saw that, right?” he murmured against your lips.

You smiled, tears gathering in your eyes. “Yeah. I saw.”

It was never about making him stop or making him want to stay.

And now?

He did. He wanted to stay more than anything.

The labor came fast.

Faster than anyone expected.

You were supposed to have more time - weeks, maybe. Time to pack the hospital bag properly, to finish the nursery, to slow down and breathe before life as you knew it was rewritten. Time to walk hand-in-hand with Lewis through those final, quiet moments of just the two of you.

But life doesn’t always give you time.

Your water broke just before sunrise. The early Monaco sky was painted in soft lavender and streaks of gold, the peaceful morning breeze slipping through the cracked balcony door. You’d stirred awake, your hand resting instinctively on the gentle swell of your belly when you felt the sudden, unmistakable gush.

You gasped, sharp and panicked, sitting upright in bed as adrenaline punched through your chest. Beside you, Lewis jolted awake in an instant, blinking in confusion, his fresh curls messy and sticking to his forehead. “What - what is it? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His hands were on you immediately, frantic, searching, like he could physically catch whatever had just changed. Your wide, terrified eyes met his.

“It’s happening,” you whispered, breathless. “She’s coming.” For a man who could handle a Formula 1 start with ice in his veins, Lewis unraveled spectacularly.

“Okay. Okay. Okay right.” He launched out of bed like he was sprinting to the grid, grabbing the hospital bag, dropping it, grabbing it again. “Wait did I pack enough? Where’s the list? Where are your shoes? Babe, where are your shoes? Do we need the charger? I need -” He trailed off, spinning in circles, pure panic on his face.

You groaned through another wave of pressure, squeezing his hand so tight you felt his wedding band bite into your palm. “Lewis. Shoes later. Baby now.”

That snapped him out of it. He all but carried you to the car, his hands trembling as he buckled your seatbelt, his lips brushing your forehead in between whispered apologies and frantic reassurances. Every red light, every roundabout, he muttered under his breath. “Not too fast. Not too slow. Can’t risk anything. But shit what if we don’t make it?”

When you got to the hospital, the world around you blurred. The midwives, the beeping monitors, the sterile smell, the tidal waves of pain that crested through you none of it stuck the way his presence did. He never left your side. Not for a second or a breath.

He whispered encouragement through every contraction, his voice shaking but steady enough for you to hold onto. His thumb stroked your palm in soothing circles, and when the pain became unbearable, you clutched his hand like a lifeline, his knuckles paling from the force of your grip.

When your strength faltered, when exhaustion tugged at your edges, Lewis pressed your hand to his lips, kissing your skin like it might anchor you both. “I’m here,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

And when the room finally filled with the sharp, piercing cry of your daughter. When the midwife placed her, tiny and wriggling, on your chest – you watched Lewis fall apart in the most beautiful way.

Tears streamed down his face, falling freely as his breath came in shallow, overwhelmed shudders. His hands trembled when they cradled your face, his forehead pressing tightly to yours as his words tumbled out in a desperate, joyful rush. “She’s here. She’s here. Oh my God. You did it. You did it, baby. I love you. I love you so much.”

When they finally placed her in his arms, she seemed impossibly small, her whole body barely the length of his forearm. He held her like she was the most fragile thing the world had ever made, his fingers trembling as he stroked the soft down of her hair. “She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice raw, reverent. His tears dripped onto her blanket, his thumb tracing tiny circles over her curled fist. “Look at her. Look at what we made.”

You leaned against him, exhausted but full, watching the man you loved melt entirely for this little life. “What do you want to name her?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Lewis smiled through his tears, still staring at his daughter like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. “Something strong. Something beautiful.”

You spoke the name you’d both circled for months. The name that had felt right in your heart from the moment you saw those two lines. He nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead. “That’s her. That’s my girl.”

Your girl. His daughter. His reason to stay.

And from that moment, you knew there would never be a corner, a podium, or a championship that could matter more than coming home to her.

When the season resumed, Lewis returned to the paddock with something new stitched into his race suit - something that changed everything.

Her name. Embroidered in small, delicate letters, right over his heart.

It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for the media. It was for him. For you. For her.

A quiet promise stitched into the fabric of his second skin. As well as a reminder of who he was racing for now.

For the first few races, he didn’t bring her. He told you he wasn’t ready not because he didn’t want to, but because the idea of exposing her to the flashing lights, the relentless cameras, the noise. It overwhelmed him.

“I just want her to be ours for a little longer,” he’d said one night, his arms wrapped protectively around both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder as your daughter slept peacefully on your chest. “The world can wait.”

But by the nearing of the season ending, the wait became unbearable. He wanted her there. Needed her there.

And so, that morning, you stood beside him at the track a place that once felt like the enemy, now softened by the weight of your shared history and the little life you both cradled between you.

The soft hum of the Ferrari garage wrapped around you like a familiar rhythm. The buzz of air guns, the shouted calls between engineers, the smell of petrol and rubber hanging thick in the air. It used to make your heart pound with anxiety, your pulse synced to every movement Lewis made, every corner he dared to dance around.

But now? Now it felt slower. Softer. Safer. Because this time, she was here.

Your daughter was strapped snugly to Lewis’s chest, tucked into the tiny carrier you’d agonised over choosing. Her oversized baby headphones sat slightly askew on her head, her small hands occasionally batting at them with innocent curiosity.

Her big brown eyes - his eyes darted around, wide and unblinking as they followed the bright colours, the glittering cars, the rhythm of the track life she’d somehow inherited.

Lewis leaned his chin gently against the top of her head, his thumb resting protectively over the curve of her back. He swayed on instinct, rocking her softly, like she was still fragile in his arms. “First race day, huh?” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe, like he still couldn’t quite believe she was real. Like the weight of her against his chest still grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

“She’s probably wondering why so many people are fussing over just one car,” you teased, sliding your sunglasses up into your hair, watching the way his entire body softened around her.

“She’s going to love this one day,” he murmured, brushing his hand over her soft curls, his eyes not leaving her face. “It’s in her blood.”

“She might end up wanting to drive one of those cars, you know,” you said, raising your brows, unable to hide the amusement dancing in your voice.

His head snapped toward you in mock horror. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Piano lessons. Ballet. I’m buying her a library. She’s not touching a race car.” You laughed, resting your hand over his. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“She had me the second I heard her heartbeat,” he said softly, his thumb brushing tiny circles over the carrier strap, his heart so open, so vulnerable.

The team fell in love with her instantly. The Ferrari crew kept their distance at first, unsure if Lewis would want the attention. But when he knelt down to show her to them with proudness beaming and his eyes shining any hesitation dissolved.

One of the mechanics gifted her a miniature Ferrari cap, the brim too big for her tiny head. Another knelt beside her, gently tickling her toes as she stared, fascinated by his bright gloves.

Even rival drivers wandered over to meet her, their usual competitive edges dulling in the presence of something so pure. Lando made faces at her until she giggled. Carlos tapped his chest and whispered, “Future Ferrari champion.” You gave him a look. Lewis gave him a harder one.

Charles, of course, grinned the second he spotted them. “Papa Hamilton looks good on you LH,” he teased, ruffling the baby’s dark curls with brotherly ease.

Lewis just grinned, bouncing her gently against his chest, his whole face softening in a way you’d never seen before. “Yeah. Feels good, too CL.”

The media kept their distance for now. Ferrari had made it clear this was private, sacred, not for headlines.

When it was time for the formation lap, Lewis lingered by your side, reluctant to pass her back to you. He kissed your temple, slow and warm, then pressed a lingering kiss to his daughter’s head, his lips brushing against the soft baby hairs that had started to curl just like his. “You gonna cheer for Daddy?” he whispered to her, his voice low, sweet, full of reverence. “You’re gonna bring me good luck, huh? I race better when you’re here. You know that?”

She babbled back at him, clutching the edge of his chain with her tiny fingers, completely unaware she’d just rewired her father’s entire universe. You watched him pull on his helmet, watched him settle into the car but this time, the weight that used to crush your ribs didn’t settle in your chest.

Because Lewis still raced fiercely. But now he raced smartly.

As he tightened his gloves, as the roar of the crowd built, his gaze flicked across the pit wall right to you and your daughter, his entire world standing just beyond the barrier.

He tapped his chest twice, right over the stitched name.

For her. For you. For all of you.

When the lights went out, you didn’t feel fear.

You felt pride and love.

Because this was the balance you’d fought for, the life you’d built together. He had everything to lose now, and finally, he raced like he knew it.

And you knew now, without a single doubt -

He was always coming back to you.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Solitude Chapter 2

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Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Pirates x GN Child Reader

5.8k words

Summary: You are finally graced with an opportunity to be off the ship, but can you handle it?

Warnings: kidnapping themes, violent assaults, death, decapitation, angst, trauma, ptsd symptoms, yandere themes

The much requested chapter two is here, and I hope it lives up to expectation! Thank you to everyone who left such kind comments on the last chapter, it really helped to motivate me to continue!

When you lost consciousness after those pirates surrounded you, you honestly hadn’t been expecting to ever wake up. You made the foolish mistake of stealing from them, so now they would make you pay with your life. That made sense to you. It’s what pirates were supposed to do, right?

So why were you still alive? And why were these pirates so… 

Weird.

There wasn’t any other way to describe these people. You stole food from them. You tried to attack them- twice. And that all happened before they even brought you to the ship. They had no reason to do anything that could be considered kind or generous for you, and all the reason to harm or even kill you.

By the time you came to, several things struck you all at once. The most obvious being that you weren’t on the island anymore. You had woken up in an unfamiliar place. All of the walls and the floor were made of wood like your treehouse, but it distinctly was not your treehouse. Other differences trickled in as your senses returned.

The hardest thing to miss was how much your nose hurt. You had become accustomed to the constant ache ever since you broke it all those years ago, but now it once again felt the way it did the day you broke it. Though you could suddenly breathe through your nose with ease rather than having to rely on getting air through your mouth.

Along with that, you found that your hair was gone. Not completely, but it was now extremely short, feeling almost prickly to the touch. Then there was the smell. You smelled weird. While you couldn’t really describe what you smelled like before this, the new, more unnatural scent was impossible to ignore. It was beyond you what could have happened to you in your sleep, much less why.

Eventually, you would get answers, but they didn’t make sense to you.

Your nose hurt because Marco rebroke it to “make it better”. It was fine as it was in your humble opinion. Not perfect by any means, but you were managing it, so you found his efforts extremely unnecessary. Your hair was gone because it was matted together and apparently unsalvageable. This one bothered you less since your scalp didn’t hurt anymore and you no longer had to worry about clumps of hair obscuring your vision. The weird smell coming from you was something called “soap”. You didn’t know what exactly it was or what it was supposed to do beyond make you smell weird, but it was forced upon you every time they made you take a bath regardless.

What you still didn’t understand about all of this was the why. What did they have to gain from doing all of this? They were wasting resources and energy on you for nothing. It’s not like you were helping them just by being there. All that your presence on the ship amounted to was that there was now someone scuttling around the crawlspaces and swiping food from the kitchen. You had all the benefits of a large rat.

Yet they persisted. They kept you fed and clothed, and some of them were even trying to teach you things. Thatch had an ongoing effort to try and teach you how to prepare and cook food. A foolish idea, truly. You just ate whatever he handed to you. Sometimes, if you were particularly full, you would go along with it, but you weren’t any good at it if Thatch’s constant corrections were anything to go off of. Why did it matter if your hands were washed or if you dropped something on the floor? It was unclear.

Then there was Marco and his battle against your illiteracy. This was by far the most frustrating aspect of being trapped on the ship. Reading and writing won’t help you survive. It won’t fill your stomach or kill threats. It all felt pointless and needlessly difficult. There were too many things to remember, and the effort to commit all of it to memory just didn’t seem worth it to you. Especially not when it meant that you had to spend time around Marco the nose-breaker. 

Up to this point, they have kept you trapped on the ship. The reasons varied depending on who you asked. Marco said that it was because they wanted you to be in better health before setting foot on new lands. Thatch’s claim was that they didn’t want to overwhelm you after having spent your life on an unpopulated island. Ace was the only one that you felt was being honest. He laughed and ruffled your hair when you asked, then told you point blank that they all knew you would make a break for it the second you thought you could.

It was your belief that you were damned to be stuck on this ship until the day you died or could pull off an escape, but that all changed today. The Moby Dick had docked at an island to restock the ship’s food supply, and you were going along to help.

This felt like a trick. Possibly a test. Everyone had gone through great lengths to keep you on the ship every other time it had docked, usually by tossing you at Whitebeard and having him hold you until they set sail again. The one time that they didn’t, you did exactly what Ace thought you would and tried to run only for his overgrown cat to stop you. It was nothing short of humiliating to be dragged across the deck by a cat by the straps of your overalls.

But as you stared at the bustling crowd in front of you, you were able to rule out it being a lie. Sure enough, you were off the ship. It’s not like this was your first time seeing a populated island. Whitebeard’s absurd height allowed you to easily spy on the towns they docked at while he held onto you. But now you were in the thick of it, and that was an entirely different experience.

The unending chatter of the people felt like it was assaulting you from all angles, the cobblestones beneath your feet were unnatural, and you couldn’t see a single tree. As much as you were loath to admit it, Thatch had been right. You were overwhelmed.

A hand came down on your head gently, making you tense and look up at the offender. Thatch was crouched down, attempting to be closer to your height, yet still dwarfing you. He regards you with a warm smile, “You feeling okay, kid? If this is too much for you, we can go back to the ship at any time.”

You bristled at the contact, quickly stepping forward and shaking your head to dislodge his hand. Who knows when or if they’ll let you off the ship again, you don’t want to squander this. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Thatch sag from your actions, then push himself up to his full height with a sigh that was utterly dramatic.

For whatever reason, Thatch seemed oddly focused on gaining your approval. Granted, everyone on the crew made attempts to get close to you, but he was particularly dedicated to the cause. If he wasn’t giving you food or trying to show you how to do something in the kitchen, he would do other strange things like checking on you throughout the day and bringing you back random gifts whenever he left. The purpose behind any of these actions was a mystery to you.

As much as you want to boldly march forward and capitalize on this opportunity to its fullest, your feet feel heavy. All that you want to do is find a quiet, compact place to crawl into and hide in to escape this onslaught of noise and people. 

But… if you never get used to this, you'll never be able to escape. Enduring this seems to be a necessary evil.

Wanting to keep yourself from being ushered back to your prison, you begin marching forward. You had no idea where the market was, but that was neither here nor there. If you didn't show some semblance of bravery towards this new setting, you're sure they'll cut this excursion short. 

Everyone falls into step all around you, obscuring your vision of the surrounding area; though you could still hear the crowds loud and clear. 

Marco's hand settles onto your shoulder, much to your dismay. You scowl at him and try to shimmy away, but he easily holds you in place.  

“Do you remember what I told you? About how you can't just take things here? You need to wait for us to pay for the food before you eat it, okay?”

“I remember… not stupid.” You finally manage to break his hold and quickly relocate yourself to be on the other side of Thatch to maintain some distance. 

Ace chuckled and lightly shoved your shoulder, an action that he claimed to be “playful”, whatever that means. 

“Oh, come on! Don't be like that. Marco is just looking out for you so you don't get in trouble. Besides, you have earned a reputation for having sticky fingers, you know?”

The odd statement immediately prompts you to look down at your hands and rub them together. You then look back up at Ace with scrunched brows, “Not sticky.”

This makes him, as well as a few of the other people in your entourage laugh. Izou speaks up after the laughter dies down to clarify, “He didn't mean it literally. It's a figure of speech. It just means that you have a tendency to take things that aren't yours.”

“Do not,” you grumble quietly, more to yourself than anyone else while stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Just pick things up.”

“Just because someone isn't actively using something doesn't mean it isn't still their's. You've become a real menace to all of the smokers on board, what with your fascination towards lighters.” Marco hums in thought, then tacks on, “Though I suppose all of them smoking less isn't the worst thing that could happen to them.”

Ace groans in annoyance, dropping his head back, “They aren’t smoking less, they’re just harassing me instead. Now I've got half the crew pestering me for a light every minute of the day.” He shoots an accusatory glare your way, “I bet you have some on you right now, don't you?”

Your hands reflexively tighten around the lighters in your pockets, “... No.” Lighters were by far the best thing you've discovered since your abduction. Gone were the days of beating rocks together to make a spark and hoping that it took. Now all you needed was a quick flick of your thumb, and you had a perfect flame. Collecting such a precious tool was important. So what if some other people claimed they “needed” it? They weren't even starting fires. They only ever used them on those smelly sticks whose scent makes your eyes and nose sting. These lighters were obviously put to better use in your care.

“Yeah, right.” Ace drops his scowl and grins again. “I can't stay mad, I guess. I was stealing way more stuff than you when I was your age. I think you and me would've made great friends.”

“Doubt it…”

Ace brings a hand to his chest in mock despair, “So cold! You really are just like me when I was a kid. I bet Luffy would love you.”

Immediately, he started prattling on and on about that brother of his. A common occurrence that you have long since learned to tune out. 

What you decided to focus on instead was how the crowd was getting denser and more loud. Everyone was talking, some even shouting, as the masses all swarmed around one area. What hell is this?

“Damn. Of course we got here when the place is packed.” Thatch surveyed the commotion with a weary look on his face, not appearing to like this anymore than you did. 

Ace, completely unphased, continues walking, “Don't worry, I'm sure at least half of the people will clear out when they see a bunch of pirates walking around. Then we'll have the market all to ourselves.”

This is the market? The place you're supposed to get food from? How awful. How is anyone supposed to get anything when there are so many people here? Everything will be taken in seconds, and all of the noise means that there won't be any animals nearby to hunt. 

Once again, you feel that uncomfortable ache in your gut, accompanied by sweaty palms. You've never seen so many people at once before. Groups were a bad thing at the best of times, but this unending crowd was more than you knew how to handle. It was more than you ever thought was possible. 

Someone touches you again, on the shoulder. Your body goes rigid and you snap your head around to look at the offending hand sharply. It was Thatch. Of course it was him. It usually was.

“We can go back to the ship any time you want. I don't want you to take on more than you can handle.” He smiles, eyes shining with hope, “You can even hold my hand if you need to.”

“No.”

Thatch sulks again. He's good at that. 

As your group enters the market, you're all forced to walk very close together to the point of bumping into each other. You almost grab onto Thatch’s coat to lessen the odds of becoming lost in this crowd, but you refrain. He would absolutely be weird about it. All of them would be. 

To keep yourself from being overwhelmed by all of the people, you focus your attention on scouting for food in hopes that there might still be some left. 

You can't believe what you see. Piles and piles of food are everywhere. Everyone is taking, yet there is such a surplus that there is more than enough to go around for everyone here. How… How is this possible? You never thought so much food could exist at once, and definitely not all in one place!

In your state of shock, you hadn't even realized that you'd stopped walking. Not until someone bumps into you from behind. You stumble forward, but are steadied by a hand on your shoulder. You stiffly look back at who's touching you and see that it's Marco. Your lip curls in disgust, and you're quick to pull away and catch up with everyone else; all while pointedly ignoring him questioning if you were feeling okay. 

“(Y/N)! Why don't you come and pick out something to celebrate your first time off the ship?” 

Thatch is standing by a table among the mountains of food and gesturing you over excitedly. You cautiously approach him while eyeing the wide array of fruit spread out on the table, some that you recognized, some that you don’t. Your eyes settle on a pink fruit that has green leaves coming off of it like spikes.

It was very odd looking. You look up at Thatch while pointing at it, “Devil fruit?”

The plump, middle aged man with graying hair sat at the table laughed loudly and slapped his knee, “A devil fruit? I wouldn’t be working as a fruit peddler if I had that many devil fruits lying around!” 

Thatch also laughs, though not quite as hard. He ruffles your hair, as he so often does, “That’s a dragon fruit. Do you want to try it?”

You’re about to nod, but then you see something out of the corner of your eye. Large red, seed-covered berries that you had recently gotten to try. You ate them by the fistful, loving the sweet and tangy taste they had. Eagerly, you point at them, “Want those.”

The fruit peddler grins, “Your kid’s got a good eye for quality! Between you and me, I’ve got the best ones here! Though I might be a little biased.” He chuckles and stands up, picking up a basket while asking Thatch how many he wants.

Excitement buzzes through you at the prospect of getting to have your newest favorite treat. But unfortunately, your joy was not to last. Marco crouches down next to you, and taps the sign in front of the berries, “Do you remember what these are called?”

“Berries.”

Marco shook his head, “But what kind? Can you try sounding out the word?”

Just like that, your good mood shrivels up and dies. Why must Marco insist on ruining everything? You stare hard at the squiggles on the sign, none of them making sense to you. Of course you couldn’t read this. He knew that you couldn’t. You know that you’ve been told what these berries are called, but you can’t remember it right now.

He doesn’t drop it when you remain silent. He points at the squiggle on the far left side, “Come on, I know you can do it. What sound does this letter make?”

While all of the letters were just shapes to you, this one was the squiggliest of them all, completely lacking in any straight lines. It somewhat resembled a snake to you. Your eyes widen slightly as something clicks in your brain and you recall one of your lessons with Marco.

Marco holds up a card with two shapes on it in front of you. They’re identical, but one is significantly smaller than the other, “And this one is an “S”. It makes a ‘sss’ sound like a snake. Now say it back.”

“Ssss…” You quietly mimic the sound from your memory, making Marco smile.

“Yes, that’s right!” His finger moves to the right, “Now what about this one?”

Your victory was short lived. You stared hard at the second letter, but nothing came to mind. There was nothing about the two straight lines crossed over one another, the horizontal one being shorter than the vertical one, that made you think of a connection to its sound. You were completely and utterly stumped, and you doubted that Marco would let it go.

Movement behind Marco catches your eye, and you see Thatch standing there and… moving his lips but not making any noise? Was he being weird again? Probably. But he was being awfully persistent. He was staring into your eyes while making the same mouth movements over and over again, and you felt compelled to try and understand it.

S… St… Str… Wait-

“Strawberry!” The answer comes out much louder than you had intended, but you couldn’t help it.

Thatch claps excitedly, “There we go, I knew you had it in you!” He closes and reopens one of his eyes quickly, an action you recall being referred to as “winking”. The basket of strawberries is then deposited into your open arms.

“Paid?”

“Yes, they’re all yours, kid.” Thatch watched as you immediately grabbed two and stuffed them into your mouth. His eyes widened and his smile partially drooped, “Hey, wait! You aren’t supposed to eat the stems!”

His reaction makes you pause your chewing. “Poisonous?”

Thatch sighs and his shoulders slump as he scratches the back of his head, “No, they aren’t poisonous, but most people don’t eat that part of it.”

You swallow your mouthful, then grab another berry, “Tastes fine.” With that said, you pop another whole strawberry into your mouth.

He sighs and shakes his head, while muttering something under his breath about “picking his battles”. You two aren’t fighting. Not right now, at least. Perhaps later.

The rest of the food procurement passes by rather uneventfully. Marco mercifully stopped quizzing you after the strawberries, and you were admittedly more focussed on eating than examining your surroundings. By the time you had finished your snack, everyone had finished shopping. 

It was while you were absent-mindedly swinging the empty basket in your hand that your eyes had finally started to wander again. The docks were packed with ships, mainly civilian, but you could see a few pirate flags billowing in the wind. As much as you hated to see them, you couldn’t help but examine each one.

Of course, there was Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger. Though it was still quite far away, the sheer height of the mast made it stand out among the rest. Your eyes flitted from one flag to another, taking them all in in an almost bored daze-

Everything stops.

The world around you falls silent and ceases to exist as you spot a Jolly Roger with a knife stabbed into the top of the skull and poking out one of the eye sockets. 

“Are you sure about this? They’re pirates, we have no idea how they’ll respond. It would be one thing if this was a marine ship, but pirates are too risky!” Mom’s words came out in a rushed hiss.

Dad’s gruff exterior doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Do you think I don’t know that? I don’t like this either, but what else are we supposed to do? We can’t survive here much longer, and there is no telling how long it’ll be before another ship stops here. Or how long it’ll take for that ship to be a “safe” one. I’m going to go speak with them whether you like it or not.”

Mom inhales sharply and drops her head down as her fingers drum on her gaunt waist. She exhales softly, “I know we can’t afford to wait… but there is a lot worse they could do beyond telling us no.”

Dad’s expression finally softened. “I’m aware… I promise that I’m not trying to be thoughtless about this, but we need to act now. There isn’t enough food on this island to feed even one person properly, much less all of us. Our child deserves to have a better life than this.”

“Fine… but I’m coming with you. They might be more sympathetic if we tell them that we have a family at home that is looking for us.”

The wicker basket falls to the ground and rolls away, not that you pay much mind to it as you take off in a sprint. Distantly, you register your name being called out, but you can’t focus on that now as you dart through the once intimidating crowd with one goal in mind.

Mom crouches down and gently cups your face as she speaks in that comforting, soft way she always does with you, “We’re going to be right back, but you need to stay right here until we come back for you, okay?”

Your lips purse, and you anxiously dig your heels into the dirt, “Why are you guys going if it’s so dangerous?”

“Sometimes you need to take risks in life, even when it feels scary.” Dad hazards a glance your way while loading his gun. You aren’t sure why he’s doing that when he isn’t planning on going hunting.

“Can I come? I want to take a risk, too.”

“No.”

Both mom and dad speak at the same time in an equally harsh tone, one exclusively saved for when you do something that could have hurt you or them. You shrink back and frown.

“We’ll be back before you know it, just stay in the treehouse. Please.” Mom kisses your forehead and stands up. “I love you. We’ll be back. I promise.”

A sharp turn nearly makes you fall on your face, but you catch yourself on your hands and push yourself back up. You run as fast as your legs will carry you as you close the distance between you and the ship.

It comes into view, and you spot several people walking off of it. You know them. You can never forget them. Especially not the one with a ratty black mane of hair on his head and face. An eyepatch covers his left eye now, but it isn’t enough to fool you. 

As you quietly creep through the brush, you hear a commotion on the beach. You rush forward until you can see the shoreline. Mom and dad are there, backing away slowly as a large group encroaches on them.

“You want me to give you lot a ride? Does this look like a cruise ship to you? Do you have any idea who I am?” The man with dark hair stalks towards them, looking amused, but also another thing that you couldn’t place. His eyes made you feel nervous despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at you.

“We won’t be freeloaders! We’ll work for our passage! Please, sir, we’re desperate! We have a family at home, please let us get back home to them!” Mom was clutching dad’s arm. Her head swiveled as she saw all of the pirates surrounding them.

The man let out a bark of laughter, “From the looks of you two, they probably already think you’re dead. But, since I’m so nice, I can tell them as much if you tell me where they are. After we’re done here with you two, of course.”

Mom and dad’s faces go pale. “Run!” Dad pushes mom away just as a pirate lunges at them. Dad punches him, then another as mom sprints away.

The knife strapped to your side is ripped free from its confines. You’ll have to thank Ace later for sharpening it for you. Your feet pound against the wood of the docks as you gain on your target. You raise the dagger and get ready to leap at him.

Just as you do, he turns and sees you, and then arms lock around you from behind, yanking you up and back.

Several men rush past dad, chasing mom. One of them, the one that had been speaking, grabs her by her hair, and throws her to the ground. She screams and fights to get her hair free, “Please don’t do this! Please! We’ll leave!”

“Get away from her!” Dad’s voice came out in an enraged bellow. He knocks down the last pirate he was fighting and rips the rifle from his back. He aims it at the pirate attacking mom, and then there’s a loud BANG.

But not from his gun. All you can do is stare powerlessly in horror. Where his head once was is nothing but a bloodied stump. His body sways, then crashes to the ground.

(Y/N), stop! What has gotten into you?!” Thatch’s voice is right behind you as he struggles to keep his hold on you. You thrash wildly as a series of raw screams tear out of your throat. Ace is holding onto your dominant hand and trying to pry the dagger out of it to no avail.

“What’s with that damned brat of yours?” The dark haired man stepped closer, looking almost bored. “They just tried to kill me. I’ve ended lives over far less.”

“C-Captain! Those are Whitebeard’s pirates. Just let it go.” A smaller man puts himself between you and the captain.

“I know who they are, but I think that I deserve an apology at the very least.”

“Capt-” The man is harshly shoved aside by the captain who is now even closer, only adding to your rage.

“You killed them! They just wanted help, and you killed them!” The accusation shreds your throat as you scream it. All of the hands touching you go stiff at your voice.

Mom shrieks dad’s name and begins to sob and fight harder. The man lifts her off the ground by her hair and throws her away. As she’s laying on her back and struggling to breathe, her terrified eyes meet yours.

“Killed who? You’re going to have to be way more specific, kid.”

Just as quickly as mom sees you, she looks away. She frantically looks around as she pushes herself back, then looks up and starts screaming at the top of her lungs, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Get away!”

“That isn’t going to happen, sweetheart. We aren’t going anywhere until we’re done.”

“I saw it!” You don’t answer his question. You can’t.

Mom takes him off guard when she abruptly lunges at him. She unsheathes her hunting knife and swings it at his face. He stumbles and falls, and she goes down with him and keeps stabbing, all while screaming “get away” over and over again.

“I saw it!”

The other pirates throw mom off of him, descending on her like a pack of wild animals.

“I saw it!”

A club slams into the side of mom’s face, sending out a spray of blood and teeth.

“I saw it!”

A foot rams into mom’s stomach, forcing more blood out of her mouth.

“I saw it!”

A sword is stabbed into mom’s leg, keeping her in place. 

“I saw it!”

The dark haired man finally gets to his feet and marches over to mom’s battered, bleeding body and draws his gun. You can’t take it anymore. You turn and run. You run as fast and hard as you can as mom’s screams come to an abrupt end following a gunshot.

“I- I- I-” All words and thoughts fail you. Your body goes limp as loud, painful sobs tear out of you. Your dagger- mom’s dagger- falls and embeds itself into the wood of the dock.

What was wrong with you? He was right there. He was right in front of you, but you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t will your body to do anything but cry. The wet heat of your tears feels completely alien to you. You haven’t cried since that day. You forgot what it was like. 

“Hold on,” the captain stares hard at the dagger, “I know that knife! That belonged to the bitch that took my eye!” He laughs, and it makes you feel just as sick as it did the last time you heard it, “I should have known their story was a load of shit! Of course that family they were crying about was actually on the island. I wish I would have put that together before, because then I could have-”

In an instant, you see Izou standing next to the captain. A single flintlock pistol is raised, pointing right at the captain’s head. You see his finger tightening around the trigger, then everything goes black as a hand clamps over your eyes.

A deafening gunshot rings out, enforcing a hush over the crowd. After a beat of silence, a shaky voice calls out, “Captain! You! You’re going to-” Another gunshot. Panic breaks out on the docks, you can hear people running and screaming. You don’t react to any of it, you just hang limply in the air. Your tears have run dry. Now you’re just numb.

“Thatch… take them back to the Moby Dick. We can handle this.” Marco is speaking in a tone barely above a whisper. 

You can hear Thatch start to argue, but then he stops with a sigh, “Yeah, you’re right.”

As he begins to walk away, he shifts your limp body in his arms until you’re facing him. Your face is pressed firmly into his shoulder, still preventing you from being able to see any of what was happening around you. Both of your hands grasp his coat tightly.

Time passes elusively. The amount of time it took for you to get to the ship felt unclear. It could have been minutes or hours. You have no idea. Much louder, heavier footsteps snap you out of your trance, but you can’t bring yourself to care enough to turn to look.

“What’s going on?” Ah. It’s Whitebeard. Makes sense, you suppose. 

It takes Thatch a moment to find the right words. “We… found out why the kid hates pirates so much.”

“I see. Do you want me to take (Y/N) back onto the ship for you?” The question makes you tense and clutch Thatch’s clothing even tighter. You don’t know why. You can’t understand anything right now. 

“No… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should stay with them.” Thatch matches your strength with ease as he all but cradles you.

Whitebeard hums quietly, “Good. You’re doing the right thing.” A loud explosion echoes from a ways away, making you flinch. “I better go check on them. Make sure Ace doesn’t burn down the whole dock.”

Everything after this is a blur. Things are happening around you, and all you can do is go with the motion. What you do know is that you’re in the kitchen with Thatch, and that the contents of the warm mug in your hands is milk with honey. A favorite of yours. You’re pressed against Thatch’s legs as you sip at it.

Generally, you sit with the rocks that once marked your parents graves when you feel upset. Both had been brought onto the ship when you were taken from the island, something that you were begrudgingly grateful for. Yet here you are, choosing to stay with Thatch rather than going to them.

You loved mom and dad. They sacrificed everything for you. Clothes, water, food, their time and energy. Eventually their lives. 

But those rocks weren’t your parents. They couldn’t hug you. They couldn’t kiss your head and tell you that everything would be alright. 

They couldn’t make you milk with honey just the way you like it.

But Thatch could. He could do all of that and more. As if knowing that you were thinking of him, Thatch took a brief break from preparing food to gently pat your head, an action that you had found annoying up until this very moment. How strange. You don’t get it.

The door to the kitchen opens, and Ace walks in. Usually he enters rooms loudly and without a care in the world, but there’s an undeniable caution to his actions. He smiles warmly as he slowly approaches you.

“Hey. You feeling better now?”

You just stare at him blankly.

“Yeah. Figured as much.” Ace gets closer and pulls some rag out of his bag. “We got those pirates taken care of for you. You don’t ever have to worry about them again. There’s just one thing left to get rid of.”

Ace unfurls the rag, revealing it to actually be the flag from the pirate ship. He holds it out to you with one hand, then snaps the fingers of his other hand, creating a small flame. “Do you want to do the honors?”

It takes your foggy mind a moment to figure out what he means, but when it does catch up, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Shifting the mug to one hand, you dig out a lighter from one of your pockets, flick it on, then hold it out to the flag.

You watch it burn to ash, leaving no trace of its history in its wake.

Tag list (first time doing one, sorry to anyone I missed): @epochal-oracle @one-piecelover @mo-on-lotus @dreamland08 @nightreverie @ashortdork @lordchippie @lucyrose9820 @daniissocool5 @star666fox @ladydoe8

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

jealousy, jealousy - k. tabito

karasu x fem!reader

you adored karasu tabito.

his dark hair, his indigo eyes, his foul--albeit hilarious--words, his incredible intelligence, his calculating nature, his idea of fun, his contagious laugh, his stupidly constant yet handsome smirk. truly, there came a point where you couldn't imagine your life without him.

of course, he couldn't know that.

you hoped that he didn't realize how often you stared at him. sure, he's caught you a few times, but considering how often you do it, only a few times is one time in a million. sometimes you caught him staring at you, though he always retorted saying that you had something on your hair, though you could never find anything in your hair after a full observation in the bathroom mirror.

bickering and arguing with him was practically a part of your daily routine, always comparing your scores on tests and assignments with his. you were both always the top 2 on final exams, after all. it's been this way ever since you both were only six years old and only in first grade, seeing who can memorize more information, seeing who can give a better summary of the picture book that your teacher read, your rivalry was never ending.

your crush on him--no, love for him is something that has followed you ever since age seven, only one year after meeting him. and now, at seventeen and soon to be eighteen, it hasn't gone away in the least. in fact, you even applied for the prestigious middle school that karasu was in for the sole reason that you wanted to be with him, although your academics and grades were your excuse for your parents to apply.

you walked down the hallway, your book bag slung over your shoulder and school slippers sliding on the wooden floor, and slid open the classroom door before going to your desk and chair and dropping down onto the chair. karasu sat next to you, his eyes scanning through a textbook and glancing up at your classmates every few seconds. he was listening intently at their conversations, you could tell. “quit stalking them, it's creepy.”

his eyes shot to you, a smirk crawling onto his perfect face. “ya know that i'm an analyst.” your lips pressed into a thin line as you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, yeah. im pretty sure the whole world knows because of how often you say it.” you shot back. people began to stare, some people betting on when or how you guys were going to kiss, when you guys were going to get married, or some people muttering about how “it's so clear that they both like each other, like damn! just kiss already!” regular chatter, just like usual.

heels clicking against the mahogany floor brought your attention to your teacher, who had just entered the room. “good morning, everyone. now settle down.” everyone sat down at their seats instantaneously, posture straight as a board and hands folded neatly on their laps. “now, today, we have a new student. i understand that moving here one month after school begins and one month before summer break is strange, however, she had some unfortunate circumstances.”

suddenly, a hollow, dreadful feeling began to fill up your stomach. why? nothing was even happening today; no tests, no events, no nothing. why did you have such a randomly bad feeling? the color drained from your face, and karasu's eyes darted to you. “hey, you oka--” he whispered, but was hastily interrupted by the teacher.

“everyone, please welcome miss kiyomizu marissa.”

you and karasu both stiffened, glancing up at the figure that walked through the door. no, no, there were probably a million girls named marissa out there…right? but there were just too many similarities. the same hair woven from honey colored silk, the same eyes that reflected off of emeralds, the same peachy skin that never had a single imperfection, the same long and confident strides as she walked. this really was kiyomizu marrisa, the one who you and karasu were classmates with in elementary school.

the one that karasu was so helplessly in love with years ago.

it was only in elementary school. it was only in elementary school. it was only in elementary school. it was only in elementary--

those thoughts repeated in your head, racing. but if that really were the case, then why did your eyes immediately dart to karasu a few moments later, hoping to not see his eyes brighten and his cheeks redden? why did you desperately wish that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the perfect description of his ideal type anymore?

she bowed at a flawless ninety degrees, “hi, everyone. i apologize for how sudden this is, but we only got to this neighborhood yesterday.” she smiled angelically, eyes scanning across the classroom. her eyes widened when she saw you and karasu, her smile stretching a bit.

“we'll be switching seats today because of marissa's arrival. everyone, stand up and grab your bags.” your teacher explained, pushing up her glasses and taking her clipboard.

ultimately, you sat at the very back corner of the room while karasu sat right behind marissa did. you had an undying suspicion that marissa made the seating chart, but you had no proof.

the moment the bell rang for lunch a few hours later, you nearly bolted out of the classroom and onto the rooftop where you usually ate lunch. however, as you did so, marissa followed you. “hey, (y/n)!” you stopped, turning around to look at you. she grinned as she caught up to you, walking up the stairs with you to the balcony. “oh, it's been so long! we really need to catch up. you look gorgeous, im so glad i got to see you again!”

you hated admitting it, but you were fond of marissa. she was pretty, kind, and clever. she never complained and always smiled. she was polite and always forgave and forgot. she was the definition of perfect, and you couldn't blame karasu for liking her; everyone liked marissa at some point. as you both reached the rooftop, you sat down, as did marissa. marissa landed with the softest thud possible, her position once again perfect.

“so,” she began, unwrapping her bento box. “how are you and tabito? are you guys…you know.” she tucked a section of her hair behind her ear, batting her eyelashes.

oh. so that's why she called you over.

“no, we're not--we're friends.” you stammered out. marissa visibly relaxed, smiling.

“oh, good! well, it's just that it's rare to ever meet someone who loves another person as much as karasu loved me. i did have quite a crush on him, and i still do.” marissa giggled before sighing. “thank you so much. you're the best.”

“uh, yeah.” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i wish you luck.”

she hugged you tightly, but you could only feel the crushing feeling of your heart. sure, you had a crush on karasu, but marissa was your friend. why did you feel like this?

you didn't make a single ounce of eye contact with karasu for the following month.

in may, the cherry blossoms bloomed, and marissa had told you that she was planning on confessing to karasu soon. you wanted to feel happy for her, for the girl you've always admired. and yet only the hollow feeling of dread filled your stomach when you heard her words.

two perfect people to make a perfect couple. they were perfect for one another.

on may 7th, after school, marissa stood in front of karasu under the most beautiful and perfect cherry blossom tree the school had to offer. her cheeks flushed pink, she smiled up at karasu.

“tabito, you know, i've liked you for years already. and i know i once confessed at our elementary school graduation, but i still remain to like you to this day.”

karasu looked down at her before sighing, narrowing his eyes. “marissa, listen. i like you, i really do…platonically. you're nice and all, and you're a great friend, and i hope things won't be awkward between us after this, but i like someone else. no, i love someone else, and i have for years now. i'd still like to be friends with you though.”

tears sprang to marissa's eyes, but you only froze. slowly, karasu's eyes wandered to your own before they softened, and you instantly ran away, sprinting to the train station that you went home with. but halfway down the road, near a small park, a warm hand grabbed yours.

karasu's hand.

“you've been avoiding me.”

you ignored his words, tears glossing over your eyes. “why? why did you reject her? she's pretty and smart and nice and amazing and perfect, i'd sure as hell date her if i were you!” you exclaimed. “you could have had the most perfect and loyal girlfriend, and yet you just…reject her? why?”

karasu stayed silent for a few moments, dropping your hand and his eyes gentle. “she's not you.”

“what…?”

“she's. not. you.”

before you could speak, karasu interrupted you. “she's pretty, but not ‘i want to be able to look at you for every moment of the day’ pretty. she's smart, but not ‘i feel like the smartest person in the world whenever i win an argument against you’ smart. she's kind, but not ‘my heart feels like melting every time you do anything’ kind. she's funny, but not ‘snort out your drink through your nose and slap the table while cackling’ funny. but do you know who is? you! you are! i love you, and i have for years, but you never once noticed.”

karasu's hand reached for your cheek, carrasing it softly. “i love you.” finally, a tear leaked out of your eye.

“god, can't believe i'm crying over a boy of all things.” you mumbled. “and i've been crushing on you ever since we were seven.” you swallowed, lip trembling before karasu laughed.

“you've been crushing for a longer time, but god, i don't think you would ever be able to understand just how much i pined for you. just how much i wanted to grab your stupidly beautiful face and kiss you.” he smiled at you, placing his other hand on your cheek.

“but i guess now i finally can.”

he leaned in, and finally, your lips met his.

wc: 1.7 (1768)

@yorubl1d3 eat up, my child

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> angst, mental illness, illegal activity, sexual assault, etc. words -> 3.9k

abstract -> nothing is ever as it seems... so maybe you shouldn't have lied

y/n’s perspective

“I.. see” I said trying not to feel disappointed but San instead put his hand on my head trying to comfort me. “He’ll be back… Mingi wouldn’t let him go like that. Yunho strongly believes he hates him but… everything is just a misunderstanding” Yeosang said and I sighed. 

“It's not your fault… Yunho said that. He really wanted to make up for everything he did, but he will always put Mingi’s interests first” Seonghwa said and I nodded. 

“Does… Mingi know yet?" I asked and they all shook their heads. I sighed and stood up. “Then… we go about it like he didn’t leave. It’s a regular day… I won’t let Yunho live on the street again. I’ll send a text to Kun to be on the lookout but not to interfere with him” I said and they nod along with the plan. 

I was dressed, when I went outside my room to see Yeosang waiting… “Pretty as always, angel,” he said making me smile. “Only cause you dress me up” I corrected and he hummed. “No… I think it's something else~” he teased and I chuckled softly at his flirting. They seem to truly believe in Yunho… they’re not worried at all. 

We make it to the kitchen where I see Mingi tapping his foot nervously sitting down. Wooyoung and Seonghwa were finishing up breakfast… Mingi noticed us and looked around confused. 

“Did… Yunho sleep in your room?” Mingi asked and I shook my head. “But… he didn’t come back to his room” he muttered. I was really hoping he was okay… he had food, and money so I hope he was okay. 

I told everyone to be on the lookout for the six foot one, golden retriever hybrid. 

They’d tell me and probably stalk him for a bit until we interfered. I just needed Mingi to understand what his intentions were. 

“His scent is faint… did no one see him this morning?” he asked, now anxious and worried. “Nope… he looked upset after your fight” San said and that didn’t help the wolf’s anxiety. “He wouldn’t run away right?” he asked his hyungs… 

Bingo, there was the answer. 

“I… no, he’s around somewhere!” he said, standing up absurdly, startling even Wooyoung and Seonghwa as they were setting up the table. “Yah! You’re gonna cause a mess” Hongjoong scolded and the wolf sighed and looked panicked. “He ran away last night, no use” Hongjoong said bluntly and Mingi looked at him with wide eyes. 

“And… you didn’t stop him?!” he yelled now accusing the orange tiger. The sudden aggression seems to irritate Hongjoong. “Why should I? You hate him, and he said he knew that so he wanted to make things easier for you” he said and Mingi looked distraught until he looked at me now rushing to me suddenly grabbing my shoulders. 

“Did you know?!” he suddenly asked and before I could answer I heard growls. Everyone was now on edge with him suddenly acting erratic… though the sudden tension and aggression seemed to calm him down. “Who do you think you are huh? Grabbing her like she’s the reason for your problems? She didn’t yell at Yunho, she didn’t say he was a liar or a bastard who was better than you!” San now scolded. 

Yeosang grabbed my hand, putting me a little behind him. 

“I… didn’t mean to… but Yunho–” “is gone… accept it. You wanted that after all” Seonghwa added. “Taking out your faults on her won’t fix anything…” Wooyoung muttered. Thre was a silence before I decided to ask... “Mingi… why are you so opposed to him?” he stayed silent, not even looking at me. 

“Because… he doesn’t know what I went through,” he muttered. “He thinks Yunho had it easy without any abuse,” San explained and I sighed. 

“Mingi… can I show you something?”

mingi’s perspective

A file… his file. His confession of everything… he said yesterday he was also abused but I didn’t believe him. Was it true then? “Are you waiting for an invitation?” Hongjoong sneered and I sighed.

I didn’t… want to accept his truth. 

Suddenly the file was snatched from my hands. Hongjoong… the one who trapped us now looked at me with annoyance. I… haven’t been the best. I yelled… not only at them but the girl next to me, the one who gave me everything. I had bit the hand that fed me... the one who gave me a better and happier life and now that Yunho was here I let everything get to my head. 

“Yunho, a golden retriever hybrid. Suffers from depression, could be from his separation from his bonded pair as well as years of neglect and abuse” Hongjoong said and he stopped when she told him to.

“Hongjoong… you’re going too far. Mingi, we’ll leave this with you but… please have an open mind?” she begged and I nodded as she pushed the tiger out of my room.

I was worried to see his statements… but I had to. My best friend, my only companion, left because of me. He returned to the life of stealing and life on the streets because of my immaturity. 

So why didn’t he tell me any of this. 

Yunho said he and another hybrid under her possession were abused and neglected. He said the abuse started when they were kids, when she adopted them. Often played as a mediator who would shield his bonded pair. 

Quote: “Mingi would get punished in neglect… So when we were starving it's often for two weeks at a time. So while I wouldn’t eat in two weeks besides some food from the one meal she’d give us for the week, I'd give the rest to Mingi”

I remember all the times… I told him off for eating my food thinking he wasn’t the one starving. Why… Did he never tell me? Is that why he was always thinner than me despite it? 

Quote: Yunho also explained that during heats, Mingi would be locked in their closest and since the two often pushed each other into each other's hearts. He explained she would–

No… that doesn’t seem right. She… no, no no. This isn’t true, it's just some… prank. No, it can’t be because he ran away because of me. He’s gone because of me. He did… everything for me just so I didn’t get the worst of it like he did.

Quote: “She often threatened to get rid of Mingi and degrade him in front of me… claiming if I didn’t please her she’d get rid of him or maybe she would use him like she did with me. If I let that happen… he’d hate me more than he already does”

I don’t hate you. I never hated you. Why didn’t you ever tell me the truth Yunho? Why did you let me yell at you? Let me say you had it easy? I had it easy! I had it easy… Yunho… why? 

Yunho isn’t recommended to be with another owner nor hybrids due to his self-insecurities and self-doubt. In the rare situation it would be allowed… he’d have a higher chance to be abused again because of his need to please and masking his own emotions and boundaries. 

I need to find him. I didn’t want to read it anymore. I wanted to hear it from him. I rushed to the elevator where they all were… y/n was dressed in a coat for the cold weather… San and Hongjoong beside her dressed to go out as well. 

“Finally come to your senses?” Seonghwa asked as he handed me a coat. “Let's go find Yunho?” y/n said and I don’t why she cared so much… but I appreciate her a lot. Her and Yunho…

They’re everything I have. 

yunho’s perspective 

I had to ration out Wooyoung’s food but I was hungry… and I was used to three meals a day now. I also felt like I was being watched… either way I didn’t wanna steal again. 

So what was I gonna do…

I missed being with Mingi… I missed my chance with making things right with y/n. Why was I cursed like this? If I was honest with Mingi… would we still be in this situation? 

It was cold outside… sleeping in an alleyway was my only option. I know they gave me money for a hotel but I couldn’t risk it. I needed to be smart with the money for now. 

I suddenly got pulled from my trance when I saw someone… another hybrid? “Are you… who I'm supposed to see…?” she asked. She was a cat hybrid… and she looked scared. “For what?” I asked and she cried out. “The… species change?” she muttered. Species change?

“I have the money! This is my owner’s credit card! And- uhmm… my collar! This is worth a lot!” she said putting a bag of money in my hand and her collar and I shook my head. 

“I’m not… im a hybrid too but I ran away” i said handing her stuff back… she looked upset and lost. “I need to find the people for a species change… you really don’t know?” she asked and I shook my head. I’m not one to tell anyone what to do… besides maybe her life was really bad that it's her only option… I wouldn’t do anything about it…

“Can I ask… why did you run away?” she asked and I sighed. “I’m an intruder there… simply not wanted” I said and she stared… “Your jacket is worth at least five million won… if you have your collar you can sell it and maybe try to get a deal with the—” “I don’t want a species change” I said and she sighed. 

“Humans, they have it easy…” she muttered. “It depends,” I muttered and she offered a soft smile. “My life will be a fantasy come true… I can help you if you’d like, we just need to find–” “Thank you but… I can't see myself being human, "I said and she nodded. 

“How are… you even gonna accomplish it?” I asked and she smiled. “Want to know? Well… I stole little by little from my owner until I had a bunch of money saved… plus his card and this collar, it'll fund my species change and I can live comfortably. Perhaps outside of Korea…” she fantasizes but she was prepared. 

“Do you hate your owner?” I asked and she scowled. “He’s a horrible man… I just want to live a peaceful life even if it means risking my life. It isn’t worth being at the hands of humans…” she muttered and I understood where she was coming from. 

“You think the little cat will even show up?” I heard and she lit up. “I’m here!” she said, now talking to the men in the alleyway. They took her money and collar… 

“Okay… now lets see if you survive to see another day little kitty”

I survived one night… one night in the streets again.

I was hungry but I needed to get used to eating a little again… I wonder if the cat from last night survived. Hongjoong said… he wanted a species change once. That was his fantasy… getting back at humans but it was foolish. He admitted he would never survive living amongst them but she looked like she could. I wonder if Mingi ever had the thought to be one?

Funny… these illegal transactions happen and you never know if you’re living amongst humans or a hybrid. Makes you wonder… but hybrids always know. They can smell… but we’d never tell one another. Because deep inside… every hybrid has had the fantasy once. 

What if the roles were reversed?

She wrote a book about that… Wooyoung told me he read it. It was fun hearing him ramble about her accomplishments. I’ll miss that about him. 

At the moment it should be rush hour… so I should avoid the streets and stay away from hybrid control. They’re gonna be on the lookout… no doubt about it. Because even if Mingi hates me… y/n is a pure person who is probably looking for me. I needed to stay hidden for now. Occupying my thoughts…

But sometimes… you really can’t help but hate living. 

I woke up extremely hungry… the sky was dark… I guess it was time to get food before I starve to death. I walked out the alley way and to a convenience store a little farther than where she lived. I was planning on taking a plane to Jeju island… maybe a boat? 

I was able to get a kimbap… something to occupy my stomach for the time being. I walked around looking for a new alleyway to sleep at. 

That's when I smelled a familiar scent… I wasn’t stupid. I masked my scent. That's the first thing I bought… hybrid scent pills… they’re supposed to be for heat but it masks a hybrid’s scent when they aren't on their heat or changes it a little. 

I hid in the closest alleyway when I heard them. 

“All day! It's taking all day and we can’t find him!” Mingi… why was he looking? Isn’t this what he wanted? “Stop crying… would you?” Hongjoong said, sounding tired and annoyed.

“Kun said he lost track of him mid-day” she said… so i was followed?

I just needed to sneak away from them… I swear I turned away for only a second to see if this wasn’t a dead end when I looked back and… “Ahh!!” I said falling down suddenly startled. San was there… How did he find me?! 

“Scent pills were smart…” he muttered and I was shocked… he could still smell me? “San!” I heard as she rushed towards us where I was now caught. “Yunho!” I heard as I was suddenly tackled in a hug. “Yunho! You big giant idiot! You’re a liar! You should’ve told me everything! But I couldn’t ever hate you! Why would you think–""Oi you’re rambling" Hongjoong scolded the wolf hybrid who hugged me hard. 

“You must be cold… and hungry” she said as she crouched down to where I was. Sometimes… I could really see the halo on her head like Yeosang said. 

“Let's go home?” she asked and I couldn’t even make out the sobs from Mingi nor his ramblings but… he cared enough to come find me. That alone made my eyes tear up… 

“If you insist”

y/n’s perspective

He fell asleep instantly… as well as Mingi. He didn’t even eat but he said he’d lay down on the couch for a second before he fell asleep. Mingi, not wanting to be separated, joined him. 

“Misunderstandings aren’t allowed in this apartment” Seonghwa said as he handed me dinner. I chuckled… “Yeah… everything should be talked about though” I said and he nodded.

“Tomorrow do you have to take him to the center?” Wooyoung asked and I nodded. “I need to make sure he’s alright and not sick. Besides… I also want to talk to Mingi and Yunho about the custody case” I said and they nod.  “You’re gonna win it right?” Yeosang asked and I smiled. 

“It's already settled… Yunho and Mingi are my hybrids. Case closed” 

Everyone went to bed however… When was this home ever calm?

I woke up to insistent yelling. It made me chuckle… how they were sometimes very energetic early in the morning despite some days waking up at noon. I went to the living room when I saw San arguing with Yeosang. 

“y/nnie! They're fighting over lunch again” Wooyoung said, tackling me in a hug, “Oh? Did you guys vote?” I asked and they scoffed. This always happened when it came to meal time… especially ordering and picking up food.

“Everyone wants something different,” Seonghwa informed me and I laughed. “How about you let me, Mingi, and Yunho decide what we bring back?” I asked and they nodded, not arguing further. Besides… This will give Yunho a push in the right direction. That his words are just as important as anyone else's and so are his choices and preferences.

“I see you guys are ready… let me change and we’ll head out okay?”

yunho’s perspective

She was taking me back to the center probably for good this time. The way Mingi gripped on my hand though made me question it. As we made it I felt myself more worried… should I have taken the cat’s suggestion. 

Would be human… even suit me?

Was she even alive… would the risk be worth it? I guess she’s an extreme case though… I wasn’t that far gone… or was I? I guess living on the street for over a year is a sort of extreme but Mingi made it worth it.

“I see you found him” the doctor said as the girl in front of us nodded as she looked back at me with a soft smile, one I didn’t think I deserved. “Let's make things official, Yunho!” she said and I wondered what she meant. It was official… technically at least so– 

“You’re free from your previous owner the both of you are” the doctor said and I was shocked. Already? It… was supposed to take longer than just a few days… or was this planned for longer? Even then it should've taken longer than even if she planned it when adopting Mingi.

“Let's talk right now, we need to do a competency and neglect assessment”

Too many questions… just like the first but this time to her. I didn’t even have enough to evaluate her as a person entirely. I just… knew she was perfect. She was loved and I was nothing but an outsider who’s only connection was Mingi. 

But… she wasn’t returning to me. I was still gonna be there though I wondered if Mingi would really improve? Would she forgive me for taking things for granted… will she accept me and show me what love feels like? 

My head hurts from overthinking and questions forming but… I wondered what I did to deserve any of it?

I wonder… if I should’ve taken the opportunity to cut all ties?

“Do you want to go with her?” he asked and I shook my head. I want Mingi to be happier– “If Mingi wasn’t a variable would you want to go with her?” he asked and I wondered. “Maybe” I muttered, questioning it myself. 

“We’ll be setting you through more weekly sessions, every other week we’ll do some exposure therapy with Mingi along with just on your own” he asked and I sighed. 

“I want him to be happy” I muttered and he nodded. “So give him the chance to think for himself instead of trying to shelter him” he said and I knew he was right. I was helicopter-ing him… and sheltered him for far too long. Maybe I was being selfish…

“How do I know… this won’t happen again?” I muttered and he looked at me with a soft gaze. “I see hybrids everyday who ask the same thing. Do you want to know a secret about those hybrids of hers?” he asked and I shrugged not really knowing where he was going by saying all of this…

“Seonghwa and San are probably the two who think that the most, you aren’t alone in that” he said and all it did was make me more curious as I wondered what Seonghwa and San would have to go through to ask the same thing?

“These hybrids understand what it's like… to be abused. She’s a weird one… she’s adopted hybrids who could never find a home otherwise. She’s their last chance of a happy life, peace after the torture they went to. And those hybrids would savor every moment of it… you should take the chance too” he said now saying the session was over. 

As I walked out I saw her there with Mingi by her side… From the little time I spent there I knew that the panther was there the longest. Her first hybrid and mate… yet what did he go through? 

“Are you doing okay? Do you need a break? Or are you hungry? No… thirsty–” Mingi was rambling made me laugh a bit. “I’m just tired” I said and he nodded softly before gulping and looking at her almost for help making her giggle… What a pretty sound… it almost made me forget where I was. 

“Come on… we’ll get food and then go back home” she said like it was so natural. Mingi and San followed her so easily. Home… their home– “Stop getting in your head… someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be crying” she said… my eyes widened in response. Was I crying? I guess that's why my vision felt a little blurry.. I assumed it was the lack of food but that's not what was in my head. 

My mind was filled with the memory of panic I had when I first saw her.

As I wiped my eyes I decided to try… “Heh, who ever said that sounds like he gives good advice” I joked and I peeked behind my arm to see her reaction. She laughed… but she smiled brightly. “You’re right.. He’s a genius who lost his brain for a bit” she teased and I chuckled.

“Will you help find it?” I asked and she smiled. “Come on Yunho, you’re stuck with us now!” 

“Did you have to choose this? We literally had it last week!” Mingi whined and I smiled at how whiny he became. “Yunho chose it, so Mingi what can you say?” she asked and he pouted. “You have bad preferences” he muttered, earning a laugh from y/n and San.

“You’re a canine!” Mingi countered in my choices. I shrugged… “I don’t know, I don’t have a preference for beef over chicken… I just haven’t had it in years” I said truthfully and he sighed but stood up.

“Fine… but you won’t get it often here either” he teased and I didn’t mind that. 

“We’re back!” she said cheerily as I saw my… new home.

“What did you end up picking up!” I heard Wooyoung come cheerily and San chuckled. “Can you smell that fox nose of yours?” San teased and he scoffed back at the panther. “Fried Chicken!” Yeosang said… and that was the most emotion I have ever seen from the doberman…

“We had it last week though!” Seonghwa whined… “If you haven’t realized everyone here practically prefers beef over chicken… besides Yeo” she explained and I chuckled. How funny… It's still meat.

“Come on, let's set the table!” she said and they followed her lead. 

Before Yeosang left though I felt the need to ask… “How come you’re the only one who likes chicken?” I asked and he scoffed… “Well I used to sneak to eat it… it is known as pure junk” he said and I chuckled. “I remember the first time I tried it I stole it for Christmas for me and Mingi… I think it's a nice snack food "I said and his eyes widened. 

“Then maybe we should try to convince the other idiots” he said as we both went to the table where even though they prefer beef… were fighting for drumsticks and thighs. 

They were so lively… I hope… I can learn to enjoy it here.

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate

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please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[kwanniverse]

words that bleed

pairing: idol seungcheol x reader troupe: already lovers genre(s): est. relationship, angsty (i decided to split up into 3 parts cuz i wanted a part with ot13 only as it fit the vibe more so the fluff is unfortunately only coming tonight or tmr!) warning(s): swearing/cursing word count: ~1.4k summary: five words- he knows he fucked up.

svt defending her against their own brother is so green forest coded ugh #where to find men like that irl

pt 2 of seungcheol short series, read pt1, "words hurt more than you think." here!

work all mine, no reposting without creds, no stealing of published work, copyrighted:D

"hyung what the hell was that?" hoshi spat, anger shown by the way his veins looked like they might explode. "you didn't have to be so harsh." though softer, dk's words were laced with a certain apprehensive tension and annoyance. dino scowled, "cheol hyung, that wasn't you we saw a few moments ago. that wasn't the cheol we know." "yeah man, the insults weren't necessary, geez..." vernon mumbled under his breath. jun snapped a little too loudly, "ya, choi seungcheol, who the actual fuck do you think you are?" seungkwan backed him up (with maybe a little too much cursing), "why did you yell at y/n like that? we know you're an ass, a dickhead, no you know what? a jerk asshole bastard, but keep your shit to yourself!" usually the members would say something to this, but no one did, everyone's eyes only focused on glaring at their leader. joshua, the ever carefree gentle one, blurted out before the words could properly form in his head, "cheol, she's not a toy you can play around with cause literally is that how you treat a woman?" "red flag, y/n gotta avoid this one-" minghao murmured, wonwoo finishing his sentence right after, "hyung if i were her i would dump your stupid ass." "i mean, she's kinda you're girlfriend, or might be ex now HA!"jeonghan giggled, although the sharpness in his tone showed how he really felt. "hope she dumps your ass too!" mingyu was more than angry though, as someone closer to y/n, he was about to grab seungcheol's collar but the other members stopped it before anything could happen. "just saying cheol, you don't know just how much words can hurt someone else, especially y/n." woozi said quietly.

"no it's okay, come at me...i deserved that." the man in question finally spoke, the whole room silencing itself once again.

"...WHAT?"

"are you bipolar or-"

"bro i swear to god get your shitty act toGETHER"

"you've officially lost it, i'm out." vernon muttered, storming toward the door, muttering curses under his breath as if just being in the same room was making his skin itch.

but seungcheol didn’t move. not even a twitch. he stood still, eyes lowered, as if bracing for something more than fists. "you all think i don’t know?" his voice came out quiet, almost swallowed by the air itself. "you think i don’t realise what i did?" no one answered. "then why the hell did you do it?" mingyu’s voice cracked, louder now, breaking through the silence like thunder. "you think saying sorry makes it better? after the way she looked at you like she didn’t even recognise who the hell you were anymore?" "she flinched, hyung," dino muttered, his jaw tight, hands shaking. "she flinched when you raised your voice. she never does that. not even with you." "and you didn’t even care," joshua said, and the usual softness in his voice was gone, replaced by something cold. "you didn’t even look at her after." "i saw it," jeonghan muttered, and his eyes were glassy with fury. "i saw the moment you broke her. and you just stood there like a statue while she stood there trying to hold herself together. she was fucking trembling, hyung."

"i know."

seungcheol’s voice cracked on that second word. like it physically hurt to say. "i know." he said again, a little softer this time, as if repeating it would make it real. "then what the fuck is wrong with you?" hoshi barked. "what the actual fuck is going on with you?" woozi, the one who was listening in silence finally spoke, his voice dark as everyone gulped. seungcheol inhaled sharply, like the air was knives. "i don’t know. everything’s been… boiling. i’ve been on edge for weeks. months, maybe. i thought if i pushed her away first, if i gave her a reason to hate me, she wouldn’t see everything else falling apart underneath."

"so you punished her for your chaos?" seungkwan’s voice shot out like a blade. "that’s not pain, hyung. that’s cowardice." "you treated her like trash and now you’re pretending it was for her own good?" minghao added, each word like acid. "god, that’s so fucking manipulative." "i didn’t mean it to be," seungcheol said, voice shaking now. "i just… i thought i was protecting her from the worst of me." "newsflash," jeonghan bit out, "she still got the worst of you." "and she loved you anyway," dino said, voice barely audible. "even while you tore her down, she was still standing there trying to understand you. begging you to just talk to her. and you looked her in the eyes and told her she didn’t matter."

"i said she was just another distraction," seungcheol whispered. and the room cracked. "you what?" mingyu’s voice rose, and he looked ready to punch a wall. "you said that to her fucking face?" "why? to push her away? to see how fast you could make her bleed?" seungkwan growled. "i saw her afterwards, you know?" wonwoo finally spoke, slow and deliberate, like every word was carved in stone. "sitting in the hallway, not even crying. just… empty. like you drained every last bit of her and didn’t even notice."

"i noticed," seungcheol said.

his voice cracked. this time, there was no hiding it.

"i noticed," he repeated, barely above a whisper. "i noticed the second it was too late. when she stepped back and wouldn’t meet my eyes. when she said ‘okay’ like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart." "then why didn’t you stop?" woozi asked, and his voice wasn’t angry anymore. it was worse. it was disappointed.

"because i was scared," seungcheol confessed. and for the first time, it sounded like the truth. "scared that one day she’d see through me. realize i’m not who she thought i was. that she deserves someone better. that i’m just this… broken thing trying to pretend i know how to love." "so you self-destructed and dragged her down with you," minghao said.

"i didn’t mean to."

"but you did," hoshi snapped. "intentions don’t erase consequences." "you don’t deserve her," jeonghan muttered. "not after this. not anymore." seungcheol closed his eyes.

"i know."

he looked tired. not the kind of tired sleep could fix. the kind that made you wonder if you’d ever feel whole again. "i’m not asking to be forgiven. not by her. not by you. i’m not asking for anything. i just needed to say it. out loud. without pretending i didn’t fuck up." "you didn’t just fuck up," seungkwan said, staring straight at him. "you shattered someone who loved you unconditionally. and that kind of damage doesn’t come with second chances." "you destroyed something beautiful," woozi whispered. "on purpose. and no amount of guilt brings that back." mingyu snapped, his voice fiercer than he had ever been. "you broke her. you broke her. and you’re still standing here like you’re the one bleeding."

"i am bleeding!" seungcheol suddenly shouted, his voice cracking open like a wound.

"you think this isn’t killing me? you think i didn’t see her hands shaking when she tried to pick up her bag and leave? you think i didn’t hear the way her voice cracked when she asked me what she did wrong? you think i didn’t notice how small she looked when she walked away like she didn’t want to be seen crying? i saw all of it. and i didn’t stop her."

"then you’re worse than we thought," jeonghan muttered, disgusted. "because that means you chose to watch her break." "you were supposed to protect her," woozi said, arms crossed tightly, jaw locked. "you were supposed to be the one she ran to, not the one she ran from." "i was scared she’d leave," seungcheol whispered. "so you left first," joshua said. "don’t dress it up as fear. you abandoned her before she had the chance to hurt you. and in doing that, you crushed her." "and now she’s gone," minghao added. "and maybe she won’t come back. not after this. not after you." "good," mingyu muttered, eyes red. "she deserves better anyway."

seungcheol didn’t argue. he didn’t cry. he just stood there. and for once, not a single one of them moved to catch him. because this time, he had to fall.

and feel every damn second of it.

[paucubarsisimp]

mi corazón

pairing: ferran torres x reader

summary: in which ferran gets jealous

warnings: jealousy

a/n: this was requested on my wattpad

the night air was warm, soft and quiet in contrast to the loud stadium energy that had buzzed through your veins just hours ago. the game had ended, fans had cleared out, and the celebration had simmered down to a dull hum in the distance.

you and ferran walked together under the streetlights, hands laced, the rhythm of your steps slow and easy. you could still feel the adrenaline humming through him—his goal had been brilliant, textbook ferran—but he hadn’t been himself since the moment he saw you laughing a little too long with one of his teammates after the match.

you hadn’t thought anything of it. the conversation was innocent, lighthearted, but ferran had gone quiet after that, and now, his hand in yours was warm but his thumb hadn’t moved in the way it usually did, rubbing gentle circles against your skin.

you nudged him softly with your shoulder. “you’ve been quiet since we left. did i miss something?”

he hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly, before letting out a small sigh through his nose.

“no pasa nada,” he mumbled. “i’m fine.”

you stopped walking, tugging gently on his hand to make him stop too.

“don’t do that thing where you say you’re fine but you’re clearly not.”

he looked down at your intertwined fingers, then finally up at you. the streetlamp above you cast a warm glow over his face, and that’s when you saw it—his eyes weren’t cold, they were just full of something soft and uncertain.

he exhaled, then looked away for a second. “i just… didn’t love watching you talk to him.”

you blinked. “to who?”

“marcos,” he muttered. “he was laughing with you and looking at you like—” he paused, shaking his head, frustrated with himself. “like he wanted something more.”

your heart softened instantly. you reached for his other hand, holding both of his in yours now.

“ferran,” you said quietly, “you know i love you, right? only you.”

he nodded, but there was something else brewing in him, something he wasn’t saying.

and then, finally, he let it slip—quiet, unsure, with a trace of that vulnerable honesty he didn’t always show.

“sí, but… you’re so pretty,” he said, voice low. “everyone wants you.”

your breath caught in your chest.

he looked back at you with eyes that made your heart ache. “you walk into a room and people stare. they talk to you like they’re hoping for a chance. and sometimes i just stand there thinking, ‘why me?’ why would you choose me when you could have anyone?”

you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips—not from amusement, but from the pure tenderness of it all. you stepped in closer, closing the gap between you until your chests nearly touched.

“i chose you because you’re you,” you whispered. “because you care so deeply it shows in everything you do. because you call your sister after every match. because you remember how i take my coffee, and how you always know when i need space and when i need to be held. because you love with everything you have, even when you’re scared.”

he looked at you like you’d just knocked the air out of him.

you brought a hand up to his cheek, brushing your thumb over his skin. “you don’t see it, but you’re the most beautiful soul i’ve ever known. not just handsome—though, let’s be real, muy guapo—but real, ferran. honest. kind. and so, so good to me.”

he gave a soft laugh, cheeks tinged pink. “you really think i’m beautiful?”

you grinned. “obviously. have you seen yourself?”

he looked down, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “still… sometimes i get scared. i see the way people look at you and it’s like, they don’t even try to hide it.”

you shook your head gently. “let them look,” you said. “they can look all they want. they don’t know me like you do. they don’t get to see me in the morning, with sleepy eyes and messy hair. they don’t get to hear my terrible singing in the shower or how i always get crumbs in the sheets.”

he laughed now, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling with it.

“you get all of me,” you said. “the good, the annoying, the messy, the soft. and i get all of you. that’s what makes us real.”

he leaned in, forehead resting against yours, his hands finding your waist as if grounding himself.

“mi corazón,” he whispered. “you’re everything to me.”

you closed your eyes, breathing in the moment, the warmth of his voice, the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

“and you’re mine,” you whispered back. “only mine.”

his lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, the kind of kiss that says i’m yours without needing any words. when he pulled back, his fingers were still tangled in your sides, his face flushed with the quiet joy of being seen, truly seen.

you started walking again, this time with him holding your hand a little tighter, a little closer, like he didn’t want to let you drift too far ever again.

and you didn’t mind—because you weren’t going anywhere.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[katiemccabeswife]

Different?

Alexia Putellas x Reader (Platonic) || You're different from your teammates and different in a different way from your friends. You're different.

Oh.....hey 🙃 This year's been tough, I drifted from woso but I'm coming back and venting through a fic because how else does one get over anything!

TW: internalised homophobia? This is very much a personal experience, while yes, there are stereotypes, it is based on what I was surrounded by growing up/my mindset when i was younger x

You didn't know what was wrong with you. Everyone you knew, knew from a very early age, and for those around them, it was obvious. They wore boys’ clothes, played only with boys, and while they weren’t interested in boys the way most girls were, no one questioned it.

You were different. You’d always loved wearing skirts and dresses, gossiping with your girl friends about boys. You’d never looked at any of your friends as anything more than that. You’d never thought of any girl as anything other than a potential friend.

And you didn’t know when, or why, that started to change.

In training, the girls would talk openly about their girlfriends and wives, and no one would bat an eye, why would they? But back at uni, your so-called friends would wrinkle their noses at couples of the same gender and laugh at those who dressed androgynous or in the clothes of the opposite gender. You never joined in, but you never spoke up either. You're glad you've gone completely online for your lessons.

Still, the question sat heavy on your chest.

You knew you liked boys, seeing actors take off their shirts to reveal sweaty, tanned, washboard abs always made you blush in a way your friends could relate to, but nowadays you felt the same jolt when you saw a girl with big arms and an eyebrow piercing.

Out on the field, running drills with Alexia, the sun relentless above you, she caught the tight pinch in your brow. She thought you were probably just focused. Or maybe squinting against the light. She didn’t ask, you would come to her.

An hour or two later, you sat at your normal spot with the likes of Vicky, Jana, Salma and a few others. But, try as you might, everyone seemed to be chewing with their mouths open or talking with food in their mouths, or someone is laughing too hard at a joke that you missed because you can't stop thinking about—

"¿Estás bien?" A warm hand lay on your shoulder, and the room seemed to quieten down, though you soon realised your brain had been overcompensating the sounds. You'd like to think it was attempting to give you refuge from your intruding thoughts.

The soft eyes of Jana beamed at you from her spot, a glisme of worry deep in her gaze. "Estoy bien."

You forced a smile, hoping it reached your eyes. It must have been convincing enough, because Jana gave your shoulder a little squeeze before leaning back into the conversation. The noise of the table seemed to swell again, though this time you knew it wasn’t the room, it was you.

Your brain wouldn’t shut up.

Because you weren’t fine. You hadn’t been for weeks. Maybe longer. You were starting to realise it had always been there, somewhere quiet and half-formed, hiding under crushes on celebrity heartthrobs and late-night group chats dissecting which boys had the hair. You never gave it permission to grow roots. But now it was taking up space in your chest, in your head, pulling at you every time a girl smiled at you, or a stranger with a sharp jaw and tattooed arms passed by.

You stabbed at the limp lettuce in your bowl, not really hungry anymore.

“Hey.” This time it was Vicky, sliding into the seat beside you. “You sure you're good? You’ve been kinda… quiet. Even for you.”

You hated how good your friends were at this, at noticing. You hated it because you didn’t have a name for what you were feeling, and until you did, you didn’t want anyone poking around in it.

“I’m just tired,” you said, offering the easy lie, one they wouldn’t question.

Vicky didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

You dragged in a breath.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

But then, Alexia’s voice cut through the noise as she approached the tabel and took a seat. Not sharp, not commanding, just steady, calm in a way that made you instinctively look up.

“Alright, enough,” she said, but she was smiling. “You lot are going to choke if you don’t stop talking with your mouths full.” She had noticed both interactions and unlike the younger girls, noticed your false smiles and knew you weren’t ‘fine’.

A chorus of groans and half-hearted protests followed, but the tension at the table eased. Jana leaned into Salma, Vicky threw a crumpled napkin at Alexia, and for a second, it felt like the world clicked back into its usual rhythm.

Alexia caught your gaze across the table and raised an eyebrow, a wordless check-in. You gave her a small nod, and this time, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Because it was different with Alexia. She wasn’t like the others. She’d always been steady. The kind of person who remembered how you took your coffee before a morning match, who let you sit in silence after a bad game without asking what was wrong. She was a captain in every sense of the word, not just on the field, but in the quiet ways that mattered.

If you ever told anyone, it would probably be her.

Maybe.

The thought sat with you for a while, somewhere between comforting and terrifying.

Eventually, the team started clearing their plates, conversations breaking off into smaller groups. Vicky was already on her phone, trying to convince Salma to do some Tiktok dance with her. Jana gave your hand a quick squeeze before catching up to the girls to head back to the gym.

You lingered a little too long at the table, pretending to check your messages.

Alexia was the last to leave, brushing past you with a hand to your shoulder. “Walk with me?”

It wasn’t a question.

You fell into step beside her as she made for the side entrance, not the way to the gym, out toward the empty stretch of field where the bright Barcelona sun shone demandingly.

She didn’t say anything for a while, which you were grateful for. You could feel your pulse in your throat, the ache in your chest rising like it always did when you got too close to it, whatever it was.

After a few minutes, Alexia spoke. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” she said, eyes fixed on the horizon. “But you’re not alone. Whatever it is, okay? You’re not the first to carry something around like it’s yours to deal with alone.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I don’t even know what it is,” you admitted, voice so small it barely made a sound.

Alexia gave a dry little laugh, shaking her head. “That’s usually how it starts.”

And somehow, those words, simple as they were, loosened something in you.

As you both kept walking, the sounds of the dining hall and the others faded behind you, until it was just your footsteps in the grass and the distant hum of traffic beyond the field. From across the pitch you saw Mapi place a chaste kiss on Ingrids cheek before taking her hand in her own.

And then, without meaning to, your chest tightened again. That awful pressure you’d been carrying for weeks, months, maybe years, pushed up against your ribs so hard it made your throat sting.

Alexia noticed. Of course she did.

She slowed her steps, turning to face you fully now, brow furrowed but not with impatience or pity. Just concern.

“Hey,” she said, quietly. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head before you even thought about it, your eyes already stinging, your voice caught somewhere between your heart and your mouth.

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you croaked, your voice cracking so sharply it hurt. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You weren’t ready. But the words were out now, and the air felt thinner for it.

Alexia didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I was… I thought I knew who I was,” you went on, the words tumbling out faster now, like a dam cracking. “I like boys, I always have. I’m not… I’m not like them, the girls who knew. I never looked at my friends like that. I liked dresses. I liked painting my nails. And now I-I can’t stop looking. At girls. At their arms. Their piercings. The way they laugh. The way they look at each other like they belong, like they’ve known forever. And I don’t know what it means. And I feel like-like I missed a memo or a deadline or something and now I’m broken.”

Your voice cracked on the last word. A hot, ugly sob tore up your throat before you could swallow it down, and you turned away, covering your face with both hands, embarrassed by the sound, by how raw it felt.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered again, barely audible, spoken to the sky.

Alexia didn’t hesitate. She stepped in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in so your forehead hit her collarbone. She didn’t shush you or tell you it was okay, she just held you, steady and warm, one hand bracing the back of your head.

And something about that made it worse.

Because no one had done that before. Not like this. Not when you needed it.

So you cried.

You cried in a way you hadn’t let yourself in years, with ugly, gasping sounds and shaking shoulders, and Alexia just held on, like she could anchor you to the earth if you started floating away.

When your sobs finally softened, when your chest ached from it in a different way, she spoke.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she said, voice steady in that way only she could manage. “Nothing. You hear me?”

You nodded against her shoulder, but it was a lie.

She sighed and gently peeled you back enough to look at you, her hand on either side of your face. “I don’t care if you can’t name it right now. I don’t care if you never want to put a label on it. You get to be confused. You get to feel whatever you feel. And anyone who makes you believe you have to have that figured out before you’re ready, pueden ir al infierno.”

A watery, broken laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself.

Alexia smiled, wiping a tear from your cheek with her thumb. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she repeated, softer now. “I promise.”

And for the first time in a while, your heart felt lighter, more whole. You could take your time, and Alexia would be there, and it would be okay.