#km! reader

[xoxojisu]

"WE'RE NOT DATING!"

synopsis: the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.

a/n: hahahaha more pre-relationship just friends trope (do not tell me i do this trope too much it brings me joy) also a lot of people asked for a pt two to my unofficalbf!katsuki hcs and this isnt quiiiite that bc there's not a whole lotta interaction w katsuki but uhm its smth. i have more wips abt this tho so theres a LOTTT more where that came from!

"even if we don't talk about anything important, i want to force it to be about romance!" mina exclaimed as ochako floated off in embarrassment at being questioned about deku.

"oh! speaking of! how long have you and bakugo been dating, y/n?"

you froze. "huh?"

"i don't know how you handle him! you're so sweet and cute and he's all 'die! go to hell! i am the king explosion murder lord!' y'know?" she added.

"he's not really like that with her, though. he's always a lot quieter she's around. you can see the way his eyes soften." tsu commented thoughtfully.

they all stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer the question, and you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks. "uh.. katsuki and i.. aren't dating?"

a beat passed. then another.

"WHAT?!"

"no way! i thought you two were dating for sure! he's always holding your hand and grabbing at you and acting all soft with you! wait, i literally saw him carry you to his room! how are you not dating?" hagakure burst out.

"yeah! and during our movie night last week, you were laying your head on his shoulder and he had his arms around you!" mina chimed in. "we all just assumed you two were dating like a given! what do you mean, 'you're not dating?!'"

"i mean, we're not dating! we're close friends, sure, but katsuki's never, like, asked me to be his girlfriend or anything! we're just tight childhood friends, that's all! he probably thinks of me as a little sister with the way he looks out for me, or something." you explained, waving your hands in the air frantically.

"y/n, i love you, but you're being as stupid as kaminari! no boy, but especially not bakugo, would ever act like that with a girl he wasn't interested in." jirou sighed. "there really isn't such thing as 'platonic cuddling' or 'platonic handholding' between boys and girls."

"well, it's normal for kids, you know? and katsuki and i grew up together, so it just kinda stuck!" you said, making a noble attempt at justifying you and katsuki's we-are-definitely-not-just-friends behavior. they all looked at you unamused.

the girls continued to bombard you with questions, each one getting bolder than the last.

"seriously, though, y/n," mina said, her grin wide, "how do you keep it together around him? you two are always so… cozy."

"cozy?" you blinked, trying to avoid their intense stares. "what do you mean 'cozy'?"

"oh, come on," she teased, nudging you. "you hold hands, sit waaaay too close, and don’t even get me started on the whole ‘sleeping on and cuddling with him’ thing. also, i swear i saw him give you a kiss on the forehead!"

"i mean, that’s just how we are!" you said, exasperated. "we’ve been friends forever! it’s not a big deal!"

jirou raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "i don’t know, y/n. most guys don’t carry their girl friends to their rooms when they’re tired."

you froze. the memories flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. "i told you, he was just being—"

"overprotective?" yaomomo interrupted, practically reading your mind. "yeah, that’s what we thought, too. but i don’t know, seems a little… extra for a friend."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “this is ridiculous. we’re not dating! he’s not like that with me.”

they all stared at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, when suddenly, the door to the room swung open.

katsuki stood in the doorway, his signature scowl immediately visible, with kirishima and kaminari not far behind. "..what the hell are you all looking like that at me for? you got a problem?"

the girls didn’t miss a beat. mina jumped up, eyes practically sparkling. "we were just discussing how you and a certain girl over here are totally a secret item!"

you froze. oh no.

katsuki's eyes widened then narrowed as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of grumpiness and fluster. "the hell?" was all he said.

“you’re always carrying her, holding hands, and let’s not forget you cuddling with her sleeping on you during that movie last week. with how comfortable you guys were with it, i'll bet it was far from the first time you guys have done stuff like that, too! you two are practically made for each other!”

katsuki glared at her, his fists clenching. "i don’t give a shit what you idiots think." his voice was sharp, dismissive, and he turned his gaze toward you for a moment, his usual annoyance evident.

you let out a nervous laugh, relieved that he wasn’t actually acknowledging any of the weird feelings the group was pushing on you two.

the girls looked between you and katsuki, still skeptical, but he wasn’t having it. he gave a quick, sharp glare to the group before glancing back at you. you failed to see the way his sharp glare softened ever-so-slightly when he did so.

“you’re all so damn nosy,” he muttered, turning to leave. "get a life."

he marched off grumpily, kirishima and kaminari now excitedly talking to him about assumedly the same topic. he slammed the door in their faces, but they were quick to scramble after him.

you let out a sigh of relief once they left, but before you could even speak, mina burst into laughter. "there it is! classic bakugo. totally in denial!"

"totally!" ochako giggled.

"mhm!" hagakure agreed.

"ugh," you groaned, face in your hands. "please just drop it already!"

the girls kept their grins, but the teasing finally slowed down. "alright, alright," mina said with a wink. "we’ll let you off the hook for now."

you exhaled in relief as the group slowly started to branch off into different topics, the heat finally off of you. you excused yourself for some water so you could get some air, and began heading back to the dorm rooms.

to your surprise, katsuki was already waiting for you outside the common area. when he saw you, he gave you a gruff nod of acknowledgement.

"kats! i thought you were going to bed!" you chirped, unaware of how your demeanor instantly brightened when it was just the two of you.

"i am," was all he offered before grabbing your hand and dragging you to presumably his dorm room to cuddle and hangout.

as you rambled and chatted with katsuki, hand-in-hand, on your way to hang out in his dorm alone, the words of your friends came back to you, causing a pink hue to rise to your cheeks.

..yeah. you two were definitely not "just friends."

[drgnflyteabox]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...

[cowgyaru]

wolverine sevika you are so special to me ….

[mafuyuakgae]

even if I came to love humanity in the end, there’s no proof I was ever here, right?

[syncast-err0r]

salvation.

[tiramisuc0ffee]

GOJO FANS RISE UP WE HAVE FUCKING CRUMBS TO FEAST UPON

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY THIS IS

[maehemthemisfit]

Maee I have a question. If gang leader!reader were to meet KM!reader for the first time what's her impression towards KM!reader?

Considering that they're on opposing sides already it's obviously not a good one, and maybe she views KM!reader as manipulative (which is true). On the other hand KM!reader views gang leader!reader as an idealist because of her moral code and can see why Mikey's close to her, but at the same time dislikes her strict code of ethics because being in the gang world requires bending your morals in order to survive.

Now that I think about it they give off sun and moon vibes; gang leader!reader being more fiery, charismatic, and the way she bonds with her gang and more courageous while KM!reader is calmer, careful, and more soft and cunning. ☂️

I guess it really depends on how much gang leader!reader knows about KM!reader.

If gang leader!reader doesn't know who KM!reader is, I think gang leader!reader would treat her nicely, buy her snacks, and be good company before she leaves. If KM!reader ever mentions that she's in a gang, gang leader!reader would become intrigued and excited until she finds out what gang KM!reader's from, then her whole mood changes. Reactions may vary if gang leader!reader has previous knowledge of KM!reader's reputation in KM, or if she's just now finding out that a gril's in KM.

If gang leader!reader knows who KM!reader is, by reprutation and appearance, then yeah, it's not gonna be the best of greetings...

Now that you mention it, I do see the sun and moon energy they radiate 😭 they play off each other in a way

[rueclfer]

omg such a unique idea you have! mmmmaybe tomura as a butler in a maid cafe? ;w; smau pls❤️

tomura... in a suit.... yes maams and yes sirs.......meow!!! heh THANK UU SM i loved entertaining this idea heheh

maid cafe butler!tomura // job fair

event m.list

[liocas]

at least the win went to oscar

[tojisun]

this is an edit of my drunken thought last night but

hockey player simon is in my head right now—

thinking about how you are watching from the seats closest to the rink, and startling when he body-slams an opponent against the glass protector only for your eyes to meet his when he pulled away with a quiet snarl and snapped his head up in his anger.

he couldn’t have truly seen you, you tell yourself. he’s caught up in the middle of a game, high off his adrenaline, so you are damn sure that he didn’t really catalogue the interaction. that it was a fluke—eyes meet without the conscious awareness from the brains, you know that.

but.

riley (41) somehow began to gravitate towards your end of the rink, only slipping away for assists or to catch his mark. sure, the seat you chose was close to the ones that are angled well to the goal so perhaps that’s why he kept coming back, but there’s something electrifying at seeing the way he scans the crowd during the two-minute breaks, stopping when his eyes finally rest on you, before he skates away.

it makes your heart flutter, blood jumping as your mind runs with imaginations. you try smothering the blooming hope that maybe, just maybe, this man you idolize somehow is attracted to you. that somehow, amidst the craze and the adrenaline, you were able to leave such an imprint on him.

but the game rages on, with specgru managing to carve a tie against their opponents with mactavish (91) scoring a point. it makes the arena shake as screams and jumps erupt from your side of the rink; horns blaring as victory now seemed to be on the horizon. even the goalie, price (2), runs to mactavish, tapping his bucket, fond even in his excitement.

time runs. you swallow, parched, your eyes flicking between the screens and the rink itself as the tension reached new heights. your friend holds your hand, her nails digging into your skin, but you don’t even notice as you clock in riley’s fast skating, his blades slashing against the ice with intense ferocity.

garrick (33) passed the puck, and riley receives it.

your throat constricts, your eyes going wide. you plant your feet onto the floor, unconsciously tensing your muscles. your eyes follow his move, watching the way he devours the space to get to the best shooting spot—that sliver of angle in front of you.

you watch with bated breath, palm over your chest, but it takes your friend shaking you to realize what’s going on.

the roaring of the stadium is all of a sudden muffled as your mind catches up to your eyes, now finding meaning to what exactly it is you’re seeing. your friend is screaming your name but you’re deaf to it all, focused only on the man before you.

riley, the man that he is, points at you. then he turns, swinging his lumber, sending the puck flying past the goalie’s legs and into the net.

it happened so fast—barely a second or two—riley’s point and his score—but it unfolded so clearly before your eyes and victory sings in your blood.

“what was that!?” your friend screeches, pulling you up now that the game has reached its end with the specgru claiming their second win.

you try to tell her that you don’t know, that you don’t even understand what the hell actually just happened, but your voice refuses to form and your mind is back to buffering and riley is still staring at you—

jesus.

he is still staring at you.

god—

guys idek what this was but i woke up and saw bulletpoints of a thought so uhhh heres an attempt 😭

pt.02

mlist!

[asaarii]

NEW IDEA that spawned while i was working on reqs and other things!

reader HATES and i mean VISCERALLY LOATHES mark bc she's amber's ride or die & also hates invincible bc she's a healer/doctor for the gda and his ass is always making her job harder, but she doesn't know they're the same person and somehow someway badabing badaboom they end up together

don't sweat the details i just want to write one-sided enemies to lovers bc hell yeah and I think having the reader be a hater is funny

idk if im cooking or im being cooked in a brazen bull fuck skibidi

oh and here's a snippet of what I have written so far

anyway feel free to leave suggestions and stuff in the comments I think I'm off queue ban now byebye!!

You hate Markus Sebastian Grayson with every fiber of your being.

That’s all you can think as you hold your crying best friend closer to you, allowing her tear-stained cheek to press against your neck despite the uncomfortable wetness it brings.

He’s gone again, disappearing off the face of the Earth without as much as a text to Amber. It had been a planned date night. Again. And nothing but radio silence from that stupid sweater-clad nerd.

Amber called you just as you were getting ready to go to sleep, voice subdued and tired when she asked you to pick her up and to stay at your place for the night. It was heartwrenching to see her this way; the strong girl who’s stood by your side all your life worn down by a singular relationship—her kind heart stretched out far too thin for just one person.

You’d told her to break up with him, to leave his sorry ass out on the curb just as he had to her so many times. But she’d only smiled tiredly, shaking her head as if she knew something that you didn’t. Maybe she did; maybe she didn’t, but you never pushed.

So, yeah, sue you for hating the man who hurt your best friend.

[lovezbrownies]

Speed dating. (Yandere!Racing driver.)

Masterlist.

Synopsis: Everyone still wonders how you, an average smartass, managed to enamour the heart of the cold and ruthless number 2 Ferrari driver.

PAIRING: Lena Montgomery x GN!Reader.

CW: Lena is british, word arse is used unwillingly, obsession, aggression while driving f1 cars, a lot of Formula one terminology, Lena’s embarrassing and you’re embarrassed, justified ferrari formula 1 team slander.

Lena Montgomery isn’t known for kindness. She isn’t known for generosity, either. Lena is known for being cutthroat — for snatching victories in the final seconds, for hunting her prey on and off the track. She’s notorious across the Formula 1 grid, hated by fans and rivals alike. But what people whisper about most is her strange, obsessive affection for her race engineer.

You’ve only held the title for a year now — the youngest race engineer in Formula 1 history — but the moment you were told you’d be paired with Lena Montgomery instead of her teammate Red Ludenhart, every instinct in your body screamed that you’d made a grave mistake signing that contract without actually reading it. Ferrari played it dirty, they never specified which driver you’d be assisting, only hinted at a dream position beside the golden boy of the sport.

You were beyond nervous. Sure, you were professional — ready to give your all — but being tethered to the most aggressive driver in the game? That wasn’t what you signed up for. The only small comfort was Lena rarely disrespected her race engineers. She only ever yelled when they dared suggest giving up a position… or, god forbid, letting Red win while she fended off the rest of the pack.

What Lena adored about you, however, was the fact that you let her win. Not in the way that implied favoritism or cheating — but with strategies so sharp, so flawlessly executed, that she could slice past Red or anyone else in her way with surgical precision . You gave her the tools to dominate, and she wielded them like a blade. It didn’t take long before she started to stick to your side like glue — pulling you aside for quiet strolls around the paddock, dragging you away from your other responsibilities just to bask in your presence a little longer before the race weekend ends.

Your team principal hated it. The nagging, the veiled threats of termination — it all became background noise the moment Lena stepped in. She made her stance clear: if they fired you, she was walking. And not alone — she’d take you with her, contract or not.

The two of you were unstoppable. A perfect storm of calculation and aggression, bringing home wins and championships with frightening consistency. Somehow, impossibly, you were also the only person who could rein her in. When Lena pulled a dirty overtake, it was your voice in her ear that made her give the position back. When the team begged her to play fair, she ignored them — but she always listened to you. You were the one who could convince her to settle for second place. That Red deserved the first place position once in a while. That victory wasn’t worth it if it meant burning everything else to the ground.

The internet, of course, was feral over the two of you. Lena, flirting with you through the radio, in the middle of a race, no less. The way she looked at you on media days — not just admiration, but something warmer, more dangerous. The way she stormed past fans, staff, even her eventual close friend Red, after every win, just to find you first.

And now, after six years of Lena and Red dominating the sport together — two rookies turned titans — everything has shifted. Red’s younger sibling, the quiet, unreadable rookie named Siolis Ludenhart, has stormed onto the grid and done the unthinkable in the last race of the 2024 season: outmaneuvered them both. A fresh and young rookie, in a car that shouldn’t be capable of doing what it just did, Siolis slipped past Lena and Red like it was easy. Like it was inevitable.

A new prodigy had entered the scene. And just like their father Grim before them, Siolis didn’t just win — they increased the stakes. They were in imending storm, ready to reel in championships as soon as they can, as their father, brother, and aunt did before them.

Watching the new rookies of the year — fast, hungry, unshaken by pressure — Lena felt something she hadn’t let herself feel in years: exhaustion. Not the kind that from long raves or endless interviews. No, this was something deeper. A quiet, creeping sense that her time was up. She’d had her fun— clawed her way through the ranks, carved her name into the sport’s history books, collected more trophies than she had shelves for. But lately, her edge had dulled. The thrill of the fight was fading, and the Ferrari name was becoming less of a legacy and more of a punchline.

The car couldn’t keep up. The strategy calls were archaic, stubborn ancient men clutching to strategies that just won’t hold up in modern times, men too peoud to admit the sport had evolved past the,. And Lena? She was done playing damage control for a team that refused to change. Red had already made the switch to Mercedes, thriving under the glamor and hopes of new wins, as Lena stupidly stayed back, now having to deal with teaching her new teammate the ropes.

She had money — more than enough. Investments tucked away like aces up her sleeve, real estate in four countries, and a retirement fund that looked more like a billionaire's savings account. She didn’t need this anymore. Not the politics. Not the paddock games. Not even the glory.

So she made the call. Quietly. Privately. The team was informed: her contract would be terminated by the end of the 2025 season. The press get their headline when she was ready — not a second before. And you? You wouldn’t hear a word of it until she told you herself. She made that part very clear.

Now it’s a lazy afternoon. The sun casts long golden streaks over the Ferrari hospitality, and Lena is lounging outside in one of the padded seats, hair damp from Monaco’s moist weather, sunglasses slipping slightly down her arched nose. She’s dressed in casual team attire, legs crossed over one another, posture relaxed — the picture of someone who should be carefree.

But her eyes were on you. Always on you.

You’re sitting across from her, absorbed in your laptop, typing furiously — probably running simulations, tweaking setups, or analyzing data that won’t matter in a year. You haven’t even touched your drink yet. Lena watches the way your brows furrow, how your fingers hesitate for a fraction of a second when you’re deep in thought.

She smirks to herself.

You don’t know it yet, but you won’t need to stress about any of this next year. Not strategy, not tyre wear, not back-to-back triple headers. You won’t be her engineer and her secret lover, you’ll be her lover, her retired and spoiled rotten partner. She’ll plaster you all over her instagram, brag about you in her tweets, buy you whatever you shall desire. As soon as you retire alongside her, because no way in hell would she let you go and become another driver’s race engineer.

You sat oblivious to her line of thought, your attention was laser-focused on your laptop, eyes scanning spreadsheets and outdated strategy notes handed down by the team’s half-senile strategists. You were deep in the numbers, trying to thread the needle between possibility and fantasy — somehow, somehow, making Monaco work in your favor.

The Grand Prix was prestigious, yes, but painfully dull when you knew your car couldn’t compete. Red Bull and Mclafen had left Ferrari in the dust this season, their machines sleeker, faster, smarter. Still, this was your job — to play the hand you were dealt with and bluff it like hell.

You let out a quiet tut, clicking your tongue, then a sigh that turned into a half-whispered groan of concentration as you massaged your temple. You barely registered the soft tap against your foot — at least, not until you looked up.

Lena.

She sat across from you, slouched in that effortlessly arrogant way that only someone like her could pull off. One arm resting along the chair’s edge, her chin balanced against her fist, her legs crossed. Her entire posture screamed lazy royalty. But her gaze — piercing green eyes that had through the fiercest rivals on the grid — was soft now. Fixed on you. Her lips curved in a quiet, knowing smile as she watched you unravel over the Monaco race plan.

“Well, aren’t you just adorable, darling?” She purred, her voice low and warm with amusement, “You don’t need to be so… zoned in. I can live with placing outside the podium, you know. Let the young blood have their little moment in the spotlight, hmm?”

She shifted then — slow and deliberate— sitting upright as she uncrossed her legs and spread them with no shame at all, a move bold enough to make your breath hitch. She patted her thigh with a smirk, fingers tapping against the red of her team pants. A clear invitation. A reminded of how you sat so obediently on top of her, the shy look you gave her, the way you buried your face into her strong neck when the embarrassment got to the best of you.

However, you sputter, mortified, as Lena breaks into a fit of loud, unrestrained laughter — the kind that echoes off every damn corner of the hospitality lounge. Your face heats up immediately, and when you glance around, your stomach drops. Great. Now everyone’s staring. Team members, media staff, even a few drivers across the courtyard — all eyes are on the two of you because Lena Montgomery, the hyena that she is, has decided to turn your entire existence into a comedy special.

You kick her leg under the table, leaning in close, hissing through clenched teeth, “Oh my god, shut up! People are looking! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You snap your laptop shut, more flustered than you’ve been in weeks, and shot straight to your feet. There’s no way you’re staying seated near her another second. Not with the way your pulse is hammering. Not with the smug loom on her face.

But before you can take two steps toward the hospitality building’s entrance, a firm grip coils around your wrist. Fast — too fast. Lena’s reflexes, honed by years of high-stakes racing, strike like a viper. You barely register the motion before you’re being yanked back.

“Jesus—!” You flail instinctively, panic kicking in. For a horrifying second, you think she’s about to drag you into her lap right there in front of everyone, but she doesn’t. Instead, with far too much ease thanks to her athletic training, she pulls you past her spread legs and into the chair beside her.

Her arm snakes around your shoulders, drawing you into her warmth, into that signature scent of leather and engine oil that clung to her like perfume. She leans in close — so close her breath grazes the shell of your ear.

“As much as I love the feeling of your arse squirming on my lap,” she murmurs, voice low and thich with amusement, “I’d rather be the only one to see it.”

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

Ferrari media day — “A day in the life of the youngest Formula 1 race engineer. 🔴 LIVE.”

Official team content. You agreed to it only because they promised Lena wouldn’t be there to humiliate you live. You were lied to.

The Ferrari social media team had decided to broadcast a “day in the life” livestream of the unfiltered and harsh realities working as a race engineer in a competitive playing field, featuring yours truly, the youngest engineer of Formula 1 history, doing your usual prep work ahead of a big race weekend.

It was meant to be a sleek, professional insight into the work behind the scenes with live commentary and quick answers to any kids aspiring to be a race engineer in the future. The team broadcasted what they could without leaking out any strategy information in fear of rival teams watching.

Everything was going fine at first. You explained the process of tire selection, how you communicate with strategists and drivers during and before a race, and even pointed to your favorite spreadsheet programs like you weren’t dying inside from the attention of thousands of people watching you live. You answered questions to the best of your ability as you went on.

But then of course, Lena waltzed in like she owned the room.

Clearing her throat loudly so the cameras would pan over to her as she strode towards you, “Don’t mind me,” She said with that wolfish smirk on her face, grabbing a protein bar and hovering right behind you as you dead pan into the camera, already tired of her shit. Though the cameraman was having a field day as he zoomed in.

“Just checking in on my favourite engineer. Still saving my career?” Your eyes rolling were definitely not missed by the camera.

“Still trying to ruin my public image?” You blurt out, looking back at her with your body still facing the camera. You can see the live chat blowing up on your phone from the corner of your eye, but you’d rather not see the ship name they’ve adorned you and Lena today.

Lena only chuckled and leaned in closer towards you and the camera ahead of you, “can i ruin it more?”

You froze. The silence that followed was ungodly.

Yet she took your silence as permission — of course she did — and casually draped an arm around your chest, enveloping you and drawing you close to her, she rested her chin against your head as you felt the rumble of her voice, “You know, they only asked to mic you up because they wanted to hear what I hear every day,” she murmured, clingy and affectionate so shamelessly, “That sexy little brain of yours is working its magic!”

That was your last straw as you pushed off of her and panickedly rushed yourself and the cameraman to another room, ignoring the barking laughter of Lena in the back.

The following few hours the Formula 1 fanbase could only talk about the interaction from the live.

@/LenaMonLM12:

THE ENGINEER TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER WHILE LITERALLY CUDDLING THEM LIVE??? HELLO.

@/lena_monhoery:

her voice. the proximity. the ‘can i ruin it more.’ please. i have a family.

@/badferraristrategies:

lena has no media training and i pray she never does omg shes so whipped

@/(shipname)updates:

you can literally see the moment their soul left their body 💀💀💀

@/lena_step_on_me332:

where can i apply to be a race engineer fuck

> @/galex_supporter:

dont think she would fw anyone other than y/n atp 😭

Lil visual of how she looks like :3

[someonespecialokay]

Dabi who tries to hide his excitement and nonchalantly types “omw,” but it autocorrects to “On my way!” and automatically sends too, and so he feels so incredibly exposed

[missyorkswhore]

This is your hubby, and this is your camera roll

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

saw the most simon riley coded man tonight. he wasn't even that big he just had that aura.

simon would pick his wife and grow old with her. he wouldn't act like he didn't know her in public, he'd be sweet and courteous. he'd be resting a hand on your back and keep you close. leaning in so you'd share breath when you say something in the too loud restaurant. simon would hold your hand and watch out for you when you're anxious by the house and clamor.

he's reminding the waiter when he doesn't give him his double serving of noodles. he will stake his claim when the man looks down your cleavage too long with a possessive glare. go get more sauce from the back now, boy. he's not afraid to stand up for himself or you in any situation, especially one where you're a little unsure of yourself.

simon loves you and wants to be with you forever. he loves every little flaw or imperfection on your body. he hates when insecurities crawl into your mind, not as often as they used to, but when you need love he's here to heal. pesky acne scar on your collarbone is kissed. stretch marks worshipped. he doesn't expect it but loves when you return the favor with his scars. he's a little worse for wear, but he thinks it's a plus when you're salivating over him.

after you got married as a little surprise he got the first letter of your name tattooed on his ring finger. he would always be claimed as yours even when he didn't have it on. he'd help you keep your ring glamorous- regularly cleaning it for you. he would often use it as a fidget toy when idle. he'd watch you zero the tattoo sometimes and his mind would wonder to how he uses it for claim in the bedroom. after all, he's all yours, but that finger especially.

simon riley is yours. he'll live forever trying to prove that he's worthy of your love and commitment. that he's worthy of having you.

[eunoiiaff]

| 7 minutes - J.M |

Pairing: Joel Miller x Wife!Reader WC: 2.2k

Summary: You were there with him on that day as he faced Abby. In another universe maybe that would have helped, maybe you could have saved him. But life doesn't always work that way.

Warnings: Major character death, blood, violence, heavy angst, 2x02 spoilers, no use of y/n. A/N: Angsty imagines take my heart REQUESTS OPEN

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YOU COULD HEAR THE WIND HOWLING ANGRILY, WHISTLING AS IT WEAVED THROUGH THE TREES UP IN THE MOUNTAIN. The cold nipped at you ferociously even from inside, your nose cold to the touch, lips chapped and dull. Despite where you lay on the floor you could still see Jackson; see the fire as it roared, smoke enveloping the town you had been sleeping safely in only hours ago. But yet in that moment, none of that mattered, all that mattered was the gun set on your husband. You couldn't care less for the one trained on you, digging into the side of your head, your eyes instead jumping from Joel who stood with his arms up in surrender and Dina lying unconscious on the floor next to you.

"I'm gonna give you one chance to tell the truth, Joel. If you do... let's face it. We'll all know. I'll let 'em live." Your body shook from the cold, your head turning as far as it could to look at Abby. You'd just saved her; Joel risked his life to help her and this is what you get in return. You'd felt uneasy about her from the get-go, the looks she kept giving your husband irking something inside you. And God you should have fucking listened.

"Wait, Abby, I thought-"

"Shut up!' You tried to think, tried to come up with a plan. But you couldn't. You were outnumbered; even more so with Dina drugged unconscious. You knew that if you really wanted to you could get out of the man's hold, Owen if you remembered correctly. His knee pressed harshly onto the centre of your back, his free hand pulling your left arm back until it stung leaving your right on the floor next to you trying desperately to ground yourself. Despite his tall stature, if you waited for an opportunity you knew you could break free. But then what? Get shot down leaving your husband to deal alone? Some part of you didn't want to believe it, but deep down you knew you were fucked. "Where was the last place you saw the Fireflies?"

At that, your blood ran cold, and you knew Joel's did too from the way his eyes jumped to yours. You kept silent. "Salt Lake," Joel said shakily.

"At least you're honest." She said as she turned her back to him.

He looked back at Jackson for a moment, at his home. "I saved your life."

"What life." Your ears rang as the shotgun sounded, a scream escaping your lips as you watched your husband's knee get blasted in. His scream echoed in your brain, your eyes wide with tears as you watched him grunt and wheeze in pain. "Tourniquet him."

"Mel, let's just do what we came to do," Owen said from above you, his knee pressing you further into the cold floor.

"Please, please, stop. Please, don't." You cried impulsively through trembling lips as your husband screamed once again. A sob escaped your lips as Abby ignored you, moving to kneel in front of Joel.

"You're tough. I guess you probably have to be, killing all those people. Do you know how many you killed that day? How many your - what, your wife? -, how many she killed that day?" She questioned, turning to face your scared face for a moment before turning back to Joel. "Did you count as you went, or... I guess maybe it just didn't matter? Eighteen soldiers. And one doctor. You remember that one. An unarmed doctor you shot in the head. Yeah. That was my Dad. Guess you probably already figured. The nurses said you barely even looked at him when you pulled the trigger. And then, you two just walked right past his body and out the door. But I looked at him. I saw him. I was nineteen."

You saw Joel's lips flutter, trying to think of what to say that could make it all better. But you both knew there was nothing. "I-I killed him. I killed your Dad." You lied through your teeth, willing to do anything. Abby's jaw clenched before she stood up to face you, taking a few steps closer. Your eyes glared into hers, your breaths shaky.

"You know, they told me about you too. How you shot my Dad in the leg right before he killed him." She said gesturing behind her to your husband. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, Abby towering over you, looking down as though you were nothing but dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. Then, a crunch sounded out, a scream of pain scratching your throat as it left your mouth; Abby's snowboot slowly lifted from your right hand. You saw Joel's mouth moving but you couldn't focus on what he was saying, your eyes too focused on the mutilation of your hand. She'd put her full weight into it when she trampled. Your hand was red and purple with spots of blood, at least two of your fingers broken and your thumb seemingly dislocated.

Shaky breaths escaped your lips as you tried to calm yourself, the pain overwhelming as Abby turned back to Joel. "I've been in a militia for five years now. Seattle. I'd warn you not to go there, but little chance of that. Anyway, our commander trained us to follow a code. We don't kill people that can't defend themselves. And right now... that's you. But I am going to kill you. Because it doesn't matter if you have a code like me, or you're a lawless piece of shit like you. There are just some things... everyone agrees are just fucking wrong." Tears fell from her cheeks, Joel watching her cautiously, his eyes jumping to you every few seconds. Abby slowly stood up before walking away. "You know, it's funny. I have waited so long-"

"Oh, just shut the fuck up and do it already."

"No, listen, we can figure something out. Okay? Please- just, just let me think." You heard Abby mutter something from where she stood, the man above you tensing for a moment. Then, pain scorched through your body yet again. He pulled your left arm further back, grunts of pain escaping you as you tried to lean back with him in attempts to ease the ache. Your legs kicked desperately, your shoes squeaking against the glossy floor.

You were sure your arm was moments away from popping out of its socket, tears welling in your eyes as you watched Joel, your husband looking back at you. You could see it in his eyes, the way he tried to comfort you, silently trying to reassure you that it would all be okay. But you knew it wouldn't. When his eyes traveled back to Abby they darkened, his brows furrowed with anger instead of concern.

"You... stupid... old man." You panted through clenched teeth as you watched Abby near closer to Joel, the golf club secure in her grasp as her knuckles turned white. "You don't get to rush this."

It was like a car wreck, you just couldn't look away; screams and cries escaped your lips and tears fell from your cheeks soaking the floor as you watched her torture your husband. You jumped at every hit of the golf club, your sobs, screams, and pleas eventually falling upon deaf ears.

You watched your husband get beat to death, tortured, hit so hard with the damn golf club it snapped in two leaving Abby to repeatedly punch his head into the wooden floor. With your ear pressed against the floor, the sounds were only amplified, each hit rattling your bones until Joel was left silent, his face caked in blood as he quietly watched you scream and cry for her to kill you instead.

"Abby. Abby." You heard the man above you call out, the girl only ignoring him as she continued to punch. Your face was covered in tears, your head pounding from the tension and stress. Owen had moved the gun from your temple a while ago as he watched Abby, though you were too preoccupied to notice. You felt as though your teeth were shaking, each breath only rattling them more as you began hyperventilating. "That's enough!"

A gunshot sounded out, your cries falling quiet, only soft sniffles and light sobs escaping your lips, your breathing still heavy. It took you a moment to realise what was happening, who had just arrived. "Ellie, no please." You sobbed quietly; though, everyone was too preoccupied with unarming her to listen.

You felt the man on top of you move - likely to subdue Ellie you'd assumed -, your left arm falling harshly onto the floor. Despite the pain that continued to shoot through it along with the throbbing of your broken and mutilated right hand you tried to get up. You heard yelling, some from Ellie and others swears from Abby's people, though it was difficult to decipher with the loud ringing in your ears. Grunts escaped your lips, your body shaking as you tried to get up, that is until you were kicked down again, your jaw aching as it hit the floor harshly.

You sobbed, your eyes just managing to spot Manny on top of you, a bloody cut adorning his forehead. He was rougher than Owen, his boot pushing onto your back rougher as he tugged your arm back further. "Joel!" You heard Ellie yell, your eyes watching your husband as he lifted his fingers whilst Ellie begged for him to get up. "Joel, get up! Joel fucking get up!"

Your throat was raw, whimpers escaping your lips despite your attempts to calm them. "Please- please don't hurt them. Please, I'm sorry. Please." You were almost incoherent.

"End it."

You screamed out, your chest heaving, the pain that echoed throughout your body falling to the back of your mind. You were running out of time. "P-Please. If, if you're trying to get him back for- for your Dad then kill me. Make him, make him feel how you felt. Kill me." You stuttered out through trembling lips. As you sobbed, you saw Abby's head turn to you slightly, your heart lifting for just a moment, and then, she walked to your husband.

It was as though everything went silent, Ellie's cries and pleas along with your own, all you could see was the broken golf club stabbing through Joel's neck. You saw his body flinch as it pierced his skin, his eyes dulling as the life drained from them. Despite the tears covering most of your vision, you could still see it sticking out of his neck. All you wanted to do was comfort him, hold him, clean the blood from his face; but all he got was the cold floor as he met his demise.

Things almost felt like they were moving in slow motion as Abby turned to you, Manny still putting all the weight he could into your back. He continued to pull your left arm back until it finally happened, though, not in the way you had expected. You screamed when Abby kicked, her foot hitting your left arm so hard the bone snapped; Manny let it go as it fell to the floor.

You could hear Ellie's screams. As much as you wanted Abby to end it, all you could think about was how she'd be left alone; again. You felt Abby's boot as she pushed at your torso, flipping you onto your back. Your teeth chattered as you faced death, your body aching. You felt as Abby hit you, again, and again, her fists hitting your face punch after punch.

Part of you thought about how her fists had been covered in Joel's blood, the idea that, in a way, you were able to feel him one last time almost comforting you. "Please stop!" You heard Ellie scream out, your heart aching. Your face felt sticky from the blood, your nose sore and likely broken.

You watched as Abby pulled out her handgun. Before you even had a chance to prepare yourself you heard the bang, heat emitting from your abdomen. You were almost so numb you didn't feel it. Almost. You felt the warmth of blood as it slipped past your lips, your coughs wet and sticky as you groaned and cried in pain. Abby's aim lifted until it was aimed directly between your eyes.

You remembered hearing that the human brain lived on for seven minutes after death replaying its best memories. At that moment, you could only hope it was true. Maybe then you could see Joel again, see his smile, feel his warmth envelop you, wake up beside him again, feel Ellie's arms wrap around you on horseback, have dinner with your family one last time.

Your world went silent. No pain, no emotions, just darkness, silence. But not Ellie's. No. She watched as Abby pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing your forehead and killing you instantly. She felt the pain, she felt the grief, she saw the light shining in from the windows casting shadows past you and Joel's bodies, but she also heard the silence. She heard the lack of cries escaping your lips, the lack of pleas. Before she had wanted you to be silent, for there to be no reason for your cries. But now, all she wanted was to hear your pain again. Because at least that meant you were alive.