#But I still thought it was incredibly strange to approach me like that at my job while I'm on the clock 😭

[hypnogold]

Crescent Park

A special thanks to all my bros on the team!

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees of Crescent Park, a tense stillness filled the air. The Golden Team moved with precision, converting park-goers one by one, their sleek metallic jerseys glinting in the fading light. Coach Richard oversaw the operation, his towering frame exuding authority, while Walter—recently promoted to team manager—moved with newfound confidence, handling the transformations with growing expertise.

Walter approached his next target, a young man sitting alone near a pond, fiddling with his phone. His heart beat faster, not out of fear or hesitation, but from anticipation. He relished this. As the team manager, he took pride in outfitting the recruits, creating custom golden suits that symbolized their complete submission. He had worked hard to design each uniform, from the sharp white button-up shirts to the black-and-red striped ties beneath the shimmering golden jerseys. Now, it was time to add another name to the roster.

“Hey, man, mind if I sit?” Walter’s voice was smoother now, confident. The young man glanced up, surprised, but nodded.

Walter slipped a golden jersey from his bag, his fingers brushing against the soft, shimmering fabric. “You ever worn something like this? Trust me—it feels incredible. Changes everything.”

The young man raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure of where this was going, but before he could react, Walter grabbed his shoulder, locking him in place. The golden jersey slid over his head with an eerie precision, and as the fabric touched his skin, the transformation began.

The first sensation was warmth—an almost intoxicating comfort that spread from the jersey, radiating into every fiber of his being. The young man gasped, his body stiffening, his mind fighting for control, but it was futile. The warmth grew more intense, like being wrapped in the most welcoming embrace. His muscles slackened, a strange euphoria taking over as his thoughts slowed, rearranged, and reshaped by the power of the jersey.

As the golden spirals in his mind deepened, his name—whatever it had been before—was erased. He blinked, and a new name filled the void in his mind: Dean. It wasn’t just a name; it was an identity, a purpose. Dean belonged to the Golden Team now. His personality shifted, becoming simpler, more focused, his mind locked on one thing—obeying the Cap, obeying the Gold.

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” Dean murmured softly, as if the mantra had always been part of him.

Walter grinned. “That’s right, bro. You’re one of us now.”

Dean’s posture straightened, his hands smoothing over his new jersey. His speech changed, becoming more casual, almost bro-like. “Feels good, man. So good to just… obey.”

Walter clapped him on the back. “Welcome to the team, Dean. Now let’s get you to work.”

Not far off, Brody and Scott were working on another group of men, this time two joggers who had been cornered by the fountain. Brody, with his sharp eyes and quick movements, had already wrestled a VR headset onto one of the men. The spirals flickered to life, and the jogger's body jerked in response, his eyes wide with shock as his mind was engulfed in the golden waves of hypnotic control.

Brody and Scott are ready to recruit some more bros..

The man’s breathing quickened as the headset took over, each pulse of the golden spirals draining his resistance. His body sagged into submission, his mind softening like putty, molding itself to fit the team’s desires. His name? Gone. A new one settled in its place—Barry

Barry let out a soft laugh, his former self melting away. He tugged at the golden jersey that now fit snugly over his chest, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging. His voice, once steady and confident, now carried a playful, bro-ish tone. “Man, why didn’t I do this sooner? Feels so right, bro.”

Scott stepped up beside him, laughing with him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “That’s what I’m talking about, Barry. You’re gonna love being on the team. We’re all about the Gold now.”

Barry’s face lit up as he joined in the laughter, his eyes swirling with the lingering golden spirals. His focus had narrowed, his thoughts reshaped into one core belief: obedience to Cap and Gold. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” he repeated, his voice filled with a mix of pride and devotion.

As more men succumbed, Walter’s confidence only grew. He was proud of what the team was becoming, of the role he played in crafting their identities and uniforms. Each golden suit, carefully tailored and fitted, was a symbol of their unity, their purpose. The fabric seemed to glow brighter as each new recruit joined, as if absorbing the strength of their allegiance.

Walter spotted another target, a tall, lean man who had been watching the chaos unfold from the far end of the park. The man’s eyes were wide with fear as he turned to run, but Walter was faster. He reached him in seconds, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him back toward the team. The man struggled, panic in his eyes, but Walter was calm, collected.

“You don’t need to fight this, take my headset” Walter said, slipping the golden VR headset over the man’s head. “Just let it happen.”

The man’s body trembled as the spirals began their work, dissolving the fear, the resistance, until he was completely still, his mind under the control of the Golden Team. His name was stripped away, replaced with something new—Travis. His thoughts dulled, his emotions drained, replaced with a singular focus: obedience.

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” Travis whispered, his voice trembling with newfound loyalty. Walter gave Travis his new uniform and he discarded his bright blue one. He obeys Cap.

Coach Richard watched from a distance, his gaze approving. Walter had come far, and he had proven himself not just as a manager but as an integral part of the team. He made sure every recruit wore their uniform with pride, and he executed the transformations with precision and confidence.

As the park darkened and the last of the stragglers were brought into the fold, Walter, Brody, and Scott stood proudly beside Coach Richard. The Golden Team had grown once again, and with each new recruit, their power expanded.

“Another good day’s work,” Coach Richard said, his voice filled with pride. “We’ll keep pushing, keep growing. They all obey us eventually.”

Walter nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

The others echoed the mantra, their voices blending into a single, unified chant. The park was theirs, and soon, there would be more parks, more recruits, more gold.

At the other side of the park...

I was in the middle of a perfect slapshot, the whistling through the air, when I saw them coming—these guys in golden jerseys. I didn’t think much of it at first. It’s a park, right? People wear weird stuff all the time. But there was something off about the way they moved. They weren’t just walking—they were converging, fast, in this synchronized, almost military formation.

Then I saw them close in on the basketball game happening across the field. My buddies were laughing and shouting, passing the ball back and forth, completely oblivious to the group of golden-shirted guys surrounding them. My heart jumped, something about the way they moved didn’t sit right.

Before I could shout a warning, one of the golden guys—this huge dude with a smirk—grabbed Tim, our goalie. He yanked a shiny gold jersey over Tim's head. It was so quick, almost casual, but the moment that jersey touched him, Tim froze, his whole body locking up like he’d been hit by a truck. He dropped the ball, eyes wide, and I could see the struggle on his face, like he was trying to fight whatever was happening. But it didn’t last long. His muscles relaxed, and then, something worse—his face twisted into this... this grin, like he was happy, relieved even.

“Tim! Run!” I shouted, but it was too late.

The golden guy holding him turned him around so we could all see. Tim’s back was now emblazoned with a name I didn’t recognize—“Brad 8.” I froze in place, stick in hand. That wasn’t Tim anymore. Brad, whoever that was, nodded, still grinning, and joined the golden guys, completely in sync.

I felt a pit in my stomach. Panic set in as I watched them move to the next one—Mark. Mark was trying to shove the guys off, but another jersey was already over his head. The moment it touched him, his resistance melted away. His body slumped before straightening into that same eerily obedient posture. He turned around, and sure enough, “Barry 17” was stitched across his back. Just like that, he was gone too.

That’s when instinct took over. I dropped my ball and bolted for the trees. I ran so fast I could feel the air burn my lungs, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was deep into the park’s wooded area, out of sight. My heart was pounding, and my hands shook as I crouched behind a thick bush, peeking out just enough to watch.

From my hiding spot, I had a clear view of the field. I could still see the others—the guys I’d known for years—being systematically transformed. One by one, those golden jerseys were yanked over their heads, and each time it was the same. First, a struggle, but then... they’d just stop. Stop fighting, stop thinking, and become part of them. Every time, a new name appeared on their backs—Henry, Brock, Chad—and with it, the person I knew was gone.

The golden guys were chanting something too. I could barely make it out over the wind and rustling trees, but it sounded like, “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.” Over and over again, as if that was the only thing that mattered now.

I saw one of the golden guys grab Alex, the last one left. Alex was a tough dude, always talking about how he’d never back down from a fight. But he didn’t stand a chance. They wrestled him to the ground, and soon, he was wearing the same jersey. When he stood up, his back was turned toward me. “Cody 23” was stitched into the gold, as if he’d never been Alex at all.

I pressed myself harder into the ground, biting back the urge to scream or run again. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like they weren’t even human anymore. They laughed, patted each other on the back, but it wasn’t normal. It was like... like they were all sharing the same brain, like they all belonged to something much bigger than themselves.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, because if they found me, I knew what would happen. I’d get a jersey too, and that would be the end of me.

The golden guys, now with my friends—no, with Brad, Barry, and Cody—moved on, searching for more people in the park. They’d completely forgotten about the game, about the goals and the ball. That wasn’t their world anymore. It was all about Cap and Gold. That was their new identity, and I was the last one left who wasn’t part of it.

I stayed there, hidden in the bushes, for what felt like hours. The chanting faded as they moved farther away, leaving me alone in the park that used to be ours. I had to get out of here, but every time I thought about leaving, I remembered the look on Tim’s—no, Brad’s—face when they took him. That empty, happy grin. I was terrified I’d see that smile in the reflection of my own face if they caught me.

I waited until the sun began to set before creeping out of my hiding spot, moving quietly through the trees, making sure no one could see me. But as I left, the mantra kept echoing in my head, the same phrase over and over:

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

It wouldn’t stop. And a part of me feared that no matter how far I ran, I might still hear it.

1 hour later..

I crept through the trees, my heart still hammering in my chest. The sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows over the park. I thought I was in the clear, that I could escape unnoticed. But as I took a step out of the wooded area, there was a sudden rustling behind me.

"Where you headed, bro?"

The voice sent ice down my spine. I turned, and there he was—Brody, one of the golden guys. He was standing just a few feet away, his metallic golden jersey gleaming in the fading light, the white button-up shirt and striped tie underneath still visible. He wore that same grin I had seen on the others, like he was in on some cosmic joke.

I froze, my legs refusing to move, my mouth dry. I had no idea how he had found me, but I could see it in his eyes—he knew. I was the last one left. Brody took a step forward, his grin widening, and before I could react, two more golden-clad guys appeared from the trees—Scott and Dean. They had circled me.

“Coach is gonna be happy to see you,” Brody said, his voice so casual, like we were just old friends hanging out. “You can’t run from this, man. You’re part of the team now.”

“No, I—I’m not,” I stammered, taking a shaky step back. My hands were trembling. “I’m not like you.”

Scott chuckled softly. “You will be.”

Before I could even think to bolt, Dean moved with lightning speed, grabbing me by the arms. His grip was firm, but not painful. It was almost... comforting. "Don't fight it, bro," he whispered, his voice strangely soothing. "We obey Cap and we obey Gold."

“No! Let me go!” I yelled, struggling to break free, but Dean held me tight. Brody and Scott stepped forward, both of them pulling a golden jersey from the bag slung over Brody’s shoulder. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what was coming.

“Don’t worry,” Brody said, “it feels good once it’s on.”

I thrashed, trying to escape, but Dean’s grip was like iron. I couldn’t break free. Then, with a swift motion, Scott yanked the jersey over my head. As the golden fabric touched my skin, something inside me shifted—an overwhelming warmth spread through my body, starting from where the jersey pressed against my shoulders, down my arms, into my chest. My resistance faltered, my limbs growing heavy.

The warmth was intoxicating. It seeped into my bones, making my mind feel... fuzzy. My thoughts, once sharp and panicked, began to blur at the edges. I could still feel the fear, but it was fading, being replaced by something else—something far more pleasant. A sense of belonging, of calm.

My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees. Brody and Scott knelt beside me, their hands resting on my shoulders. “Just let it happen,” Scott whispered, “it’s easier that way.”

I tried to hold onto who I was—tried to remember my name, my life—but the jersey was working its way deeper into my mind. I could feel it now, creeping through my thoughts, replacing them with something new. My name—it felt distant, like a word I had heard once but didn’t fully recognize anymore. A new name was forming in its place.

As I knelt there, struggling against the warmth flooding my body from the golden jersey, the last fragments of my old self slipped away. My name… I tried to hold onto it, to remember who I was before all this. But the more I fought, the deeper the warmth sank in, washing away my resistance. A new name began to form, one that felt foreign and familiar all at once.

“Joshua,” I whispered, the word coming from somewhere deep within me. It felt right, like it had always been my name, like it was who I was meant to be.

Brody smiled down at me, nodding approvingly. “Yeah, Joshua. Welcome to the team, bro.”

I felt a strange rush of pride. The jersey was no longer just a piece of fabric clinging to my body—it was part of me now. It fit perfectly, like it had been made for me, like it belonged on me. And I belonged to the team.

Scott stood beside me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, his grip no longer threatening but reassuring. “You feel it now, right, Joshua? The purpose. The brotherhood.”

I nodded, standing up on shaky legs. The transformation had washed away every trace of fear and hesitation, replacing them with something far stronger. I looked at the other guys, at Dean, Scott, and Brody, and I didn’t just see a group of men—I saw my team, my brothers. I was one of them now.

I turned to look at my reflection in the fountain. The name "Joshua 19" was emblazoned on the back of my golden jersey, the number gleaming in the evening light. It felt perfect. I felt perfect.

My thoughts had shifted completely. The confusion, the doubt—all gone. Now, there was only loyalty. Loyalty to Cap. Loyalty to Gold. It was simple, clear, and it filled me with a sense of fulfillment I had never known before.

Brody chuckled, his voice warm as he patted me on the back. “You get it now, Joshua. We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

The words slipped from my lips as if they had always been there. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” I echoed, feeling the power of the mantra take root deep within me. It wasn’t just a phrase; it was a way of life. A belief. An oath.

Scott and Dean joined in, all of us chanting together, a unified voice of devotion. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

I smiled, finally feeling at peace. The struggle was over. I wasn’t running anymore. I wasn’t hiding. I was home.

As I stood there with my brothers, the mission was clear. We weren’t done yet. The park was full of new recruits, and I knew exactly what my role was now. It was time to find them, welcome them, and show them what it meant to be part of the team. I was Joshua now, and nothing else mattered.

They were told to enter a golden bus and drive of to the Golden Home where all the Golden Team boys live. They needed to wear the VR headsets, because no one knows where it is...yet everyone obeyed.

I had a purpose, and together with the Golden Team, we were going to make sure everyone understood: we obey Cap, and we obey Gold.

[scarletfasinera]

I will tell you what I did today after I do it. See you soon.

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[myeagleexpert]

The Perfect Boyfriend

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕 𝖒𝖞 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB) Summary: Despite living in a pink world, there's a little voice in the back of your head that tells you that there's something strange with your boyfriend. It can't be anything important, right? (You'll regret not listening to it) Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. He tries to keep you trapped. The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3 PT1: Candlelight dinner PT2: She Knows

It was already night when your boyfriend showed up at your door, well… er-EX boyfriend. You and Kain had been together for a few months, but when you realized how toxic and rude he was, you felt the need to break up with him. Just a week later, he shows up at your door asking for forgiveness and begging to have you back.

“Shall we at least talk?” Kain’s voice sounds like a broken record that became softer and more pleasant to listen to as he spoke, like a person with a hoarse throat from a hangover, which… well, that was Kain almost every day.

He says, offering you a beautiful bouquet of Japanese flowers, in shades of pink and pastel pink, of various sizes, wrapped in paper that imitated butterfly wings, wrapped in such an elegant and harmonious way. It was an incredibly beautiful and thoughtful bouquet. It was actually an image you had recently visualized at the flower shop and in your desired heart. Point 1 that something is wrong.

Kain has only given you flowers exactly 3 times. All three of them were cheap plastic red roses, still with the price tag on them when YN picked them up and an unmistakable smell of old invaded her nose so much that it made her cough, she has always been sensitive to smells.

These smell of harmonious and enchanted nature, as if one of Monet's beautiful paintings had come to life. But YN is hurt by the aggressive breakup, mulling over painful old memories while trying to maintain her pride with a glass or two of wine. With her mind clouded by sadness and anger, she fails to realize that the man in front of her is strangely… strange.

"What's the bouquet for? You're not going to buy me with that." YN crosses her arms and looks skeptically at the beautiful flowers.

"Please! Accept it as a peace offering!" he says approaching YN with the bouquet, trying to place it in her arms almost desperately.

They were too stupidly beautiful to refuse… but there is something in her heart that tells you to close the door immmediatly.

Sensing your hesitation, he tries to convince you once more.

“Just a conversation, nothing more. I know that… we didn't end up on the best of terms… but please, I need to talk to you.” The man looks at YN with sincerity and devotion in his… blue eyes? YN could have sworn that his eyes were beautiful brown.

“Okay. Okay. Just ONE conversation. And after that… I don't want to see you in front of me anymore.” The girl stomps her foot and maintains her angry and indifferent posture as she receives the flowers and opens the door wider so he can enter.

“And don't even think about jumping on my couch like last time! I'm still paying for the conc-“ Normally Kain would have thrown his muddy sneakers on the floor and sprawled on the couch, but to the girl's surprise, he was right next to her, waiting for her to guide him.

“Did I break your couch? I'm sorry, let me pay for the repair now, okay?” Don't pretend to be nice in front of me, just look at him pretending to be innocent as if he hadn't thrown in my face that the problem was mine.

“I don’t want anything from you, let’s get things moving.” YN spits out the venom, entering the room and placing the bouquet on the table while the man follows her wherever she goes, until they sit on the couch (the one that isn’t broken) in the living room.

In better light, YN can see that there’s something different about him. And Kain dyed his hair, his short black hair was chin-length, the ends highlighted in rich caramel tones. The skin that was once worn out by tiredness and nights of drinking was almost porcelain, clean, with hardly any prominent pores. The thin, frowning mouth had soft, kissable lips, his jaw was well defined too. The post-breakup glow, huh?

“You look different…” you make the observation as you settle into the couch, trying not to seem interested in anything he might have to say, but curiosity is addictive, right?

“Did you like it?” He lights up when you notice and runs your hand through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear as he approaches you.

It's for you.

When he tries to get closer, you aggressively place a pillow between the two of you, much to Kain's dismay, who seems to immediately wilt at your attitude. "I said different. Don't let it go to your head." As sharp as a Tramontina knife, you cut him off immediately.

"You said you wanted to talk, come on. Talk." You snort, putting on a serious posture and looking him straight into his fake eyes. Contacts, Kain? Seriously?

"Ah.. yes, I wanted to talk to you YN." He turns towards her, giving her all the attention she once begged for. A bitter taste invades your mouth, like the feeling of receiving a gift that your child would dream of receiving, but you miss as an adult. A belated gift, that means less than the dust on the soles of your shoes.

“I ask you to reconsider… we've had our ups and downs in our relationship, but I know it has a lot of potential. Let's try again, let me show you how much I've changed, how happy we can be together.” He tries to give a friendly smile.

Change in a week? Nah, spare me.

“Nobody changes that much in a week, Kain. I don't move out of resentment and you've never changed out of guilt.” YN puts him against the wall coldly. “Why do you want to get back together? You called me worthless and now you see the potential in us? Humph… Your offer isn't the best.” She snorts as she looks at him with disdain, wanting to know where all this is coming from.

“Wait! Please!” Kain approaches and desperately takes her hand. “I know I was rude and rude to you… I was selfish and I never gave you the value you deserved. I was terrible and you have every right to refuse me…”

Oh, and how I do.

“But if you give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it-“

“Oh, I don’t want to pay to see. In the last fight I ended up punching the wall… I don’t want to wait for you to hit my head.” Your gaze is furrowed, irritated and for a moment you notice the same look pass quickly through Kain’s. Is he upset that you threw that in his face?

“I’m sorry about that scene YN, it wasn’t me…” the last part rings so true that YN raises an eyebrow skeptically “You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

Masculine hands move to hold YN’s cheeks as he gently caresses them. They seem too big.. but let’s leave that thought for later. He’s different.. and little by little you’re feel disarmed by his attitude.

“I can’t live without you. Please… just give me one chance to prove to you that I’m your best option. That I’ve changed. That I can be better.” Kain's voice is like a warm blanket, enveloping all your senses… like a mermaid would envelop a sailor until he drowned.

He's never spoken to me like that. He's never used that tone with me.

As the red lights in your head go off, you try to pull away from his hands. Seeing your attempt to pull away, he tightens his grip and moves even closer to your body. There's something strange in his blue eyes… maybe it's a devotion you weren't used to… or something strangely… uncanny.

"YN…" he whispers sweetly and delicately, moving even closer until your eyes are staring directly into each other's.

"I love you… so much. You mean so much to me." He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. "Give me a chance… just one."

Something possessed you at that moment. The wine must have messed with your head. You must have been drugged. The water was bad. You must be sick. You must have been PMSing. Or ovulating. Or menstruating… because there's no rational reason why you gave in, and nodded slightly with your head tilted to accept his offer.

"Are you serious?" He looks into your eyes and finds no lie, just a hesitation. "I'm so happy! You won't regret it!" He hugs YN and wraps her in strong arms, burying his face in her shoulder while placing small kisses on her face.

When you hug him back, very suspiciously, you notice that his body is different. Taller, more muscular, more attractive… he couldn't make such a change in a week, he didn't even go to the gym.

"YN, look at me…" with a delicate hand on her chin he guides her to his lips, where they kiss delicately, savoring each other's presence. Until the smell of his perfume invades your nose, enveloping you in a light trance.

Kain smells like expensive perfume.

He always smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, something you always complained about. He now had a feeling of cleanliness and elegance, the leather jacket was new too. The smell of perfume is almost suffocating. Why would he be wearing such a fragrant and expensive perfume?

When the two of them are separated for air, Kain looks with so much devotion and love while caressing her lower lip "I love you."

Kain smiles in a way that YN had never seen him smile like that. Big mouth, too white teeth and some sharp hidden fangs.

There's something wrong with her ex-boyfriend.

----

But two weeks later… YN forgets about it, keeping any survival instinct or voice of conscience in a drawer at the back of her mind, along with the unpleasant memories of the relationship. Mentally thanking him for having changed.

It was as if she was floating on clouds and Kain was her ray of sunshine.

As time went by, YN fell more and more in love with Kaius, as if she was getting to know a new side of him. It was as if he had created a rosy and passionate world, where he controlled all reality around her, solving everything for her. YN felt trapped in a state of enchantment and dependence almost like a drug addict, laughing alone and going limp in his presence.

It was fascinating for Kaius to manipulate YN's emotions, keeping her trapped in a state of passion and blind trust while he himself fell into a state of disillusionment. Every gesture and behavior of his was calculated to make her fall even more in love, while he tried hard to hide any detail that could reveal the truth. YN found herself increasingly trapped in the spell, unable to realize that the man she had fallen in love with was… too perfect, a romance novel, the kind she had most innocently dreamed of until the adventures in hidden paragraphs. Kaindid everything perfectly and still left her wanting more.

It's been two great weeks, YN visits him at his house almost every day and they're getting ready to live together, she's been going out with her party-loving friends, she's been so productive at work that she got a promotion today!

“Congratulations YN! I knew our project would boost you in the company.” Your boss praises you, it was hard and delicate work but she knew that by putting herself in your hands she would prosper.

“Thank you very much for your trust.” You smile at her.

“The guys are going to celebrate the success after work, are you coming?” she asks, noticing that you're not getting ready to go out

“Oh no, I promised I'd go out with my boyfriend to celebrate today. But I'm going to celebrate the weekend with you guys!” you say, reminding her that you're still going out with the company this weekend, but she looks confused

“Your boyfriend? Didn't you guys break up two or… three weeks ago?”

“We're back together, and he's better than ever, can you believe it?” you show her a picture of the two of you at the eco-park, him holding your waist while smiling beautifully.

Your boss looks suspicious, she could swear by the name of the company that she'd seen him somewhere before, like a piece of information on the tip of her tongue that's soon forgotten strangely… but she tries to give you a vote of confidence “Err… I'm happy for you. But remember, we've had clients who were wolves in sheep's clothing. Enjoy the honeymoon phase.” She gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving. “Call me if you need anything, dear.”

Wolf in sheep's clothing… interesting.

You think about this as you ride back to his house on your motorbike, and right on the way you enter the usual flower shop and meet Thomas, the friendly old man who sells the flower shop.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Thomas!” you greet him as soon as you arrive at the store. His tired eyes soon find your presence as you explore the garden in search of a plant that catches your attention.

“Good afternoon, girl.” He walks towards you in slow steps, supporting himself with his old wooden cane.

“I think I’ll take this one here-“ you point to beautiful white alstroemerias.

“Your boyfriend is allergic to these.” He warns, looking at them. “He came here the other day and when he was going to touch this one, it looked like my cat, he started coughing and almost vomited when he touched the plant.”

You turn your head to him in confusion. Kain has never been allergic to flowers.

“I found it strange, because people usually aren’t allergic to this type of alstroemeria.” The old man scratches his chin thoughtfully but then laughs to himself. “But I suppose, each organism works differently.”

“That’s true, the human body has one of those.” You laugh with him, but then you notice him staring at you. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s taking good care of you, isn’t he? You look very radiant, girl.” The old man’s soft voice breaks any tension you were feeling before, and with a slightly blushing face you admit that yes.

“You know, the first time he came in here I thought he was a drunk when I bought those red, plastic roses… on your first date.” Mr. Thomas’s body shivers with disgust at the boy’s lack of romance.

“Oh my god… my head hurts just remembering, he dropped some flowers and came staggering, he smelled terrible of cigarettes.”

“It’s likely he wasn’t drunk… but high, Mr. Thomas.” You whisper to him.

“And how did you fall in love with something like that?” the rolled eyes make YN laugh a little at the florist's drama but before she could say anything he continues

“But the second time he came, he seemed like a gentleman. He walked elegantly through the plants and I was surprised when he chose that bouquet of Japanese flowers…”

“Me too! I wanted them so much!” you sigh in love

“Exactly the flowers you wanted…” he murmurs softly as he picks up a dead leaf from one of the vases

“But that's not what caught my attention, dear…”

“What caught your attention?” Was it his muscles? His hair? The beautiful way he speaks?

He spends a few seconds thinking about how to tell you exactly what it was that made him feel....

“A few years ago, when I was young, I traveled for work and spent a week away. When I came back, the first thing that caught my attention was the smell I could smell from the door…” the old gardener narrates his story with his eyes clouded with nostalgia and worry, as if he wanted YN to understand his point making you feel anxious…..

“My wife had been dead for 3 days… The putrid smell was terrible.” The words are almost like a whisper “I never forgot that smell.”

“That boy smelled like death the second time he came here.” As the gardener looks directly into your eyes YN feels her breath catch in her lungs.

What does he mean by that?

“What did she die of?” YN curiously asks him

“Heart attack or something like that.. I'm sorry. I…” the old man shudders and sits in a nearby chair visibly shaken by such memories while you get him some water trying to somehow give him comfort.

“Oh YN, the smell was very strong and terrible…. when that man came in here I could only remember that.” The man's vision was blurred because he loved his wife very much, he held on tightly to his cane to keep himself steady.

"I'm sorry about your wife, I'm sorry I made you remember all this…" YN crouched down next to him as she picked up the glass of water, feeling guilty for such emotions in the old florist.

He then looked at YN with pity for her kindness, big confused and kind eyes stared back at him, old Mr. Thomas and decided to swallow his tears as he tried to compose himself.

"I'm not saying your boyfriend is a zoombie or anything like that" he laughed as he slowly stood up "But I'm saying he smelled really bad when he got here, remind him to take baths, okay?" he said with the same funny tone as always, playing with the rhymes and tones of the words while to lighten the mood she laughed at him.

"Oh, he smells much better now." You said remembering the bubble baths you took together

"Was it you who gave him that perfume? Good choice.”

What?

“What perfume, Mr. Thomas?” you ask, helping him to the counter.

“It’s an expensive perfume, very good… I think I’ve only smelled one person wearing it, the mayor of the city in 1980. Good taste, it’s an extremely refined perfume.”

“O-oh… yeah.”

“Now he wears it a lot, I felt suffocated in his presence…” he says, adjusting his clothes and cane. “Well, me and my plants.” He laughs to himself.

“Sorry about that, I know they’re sensitive to strong smells.” You laugh.

"I give him a second chance, he brings me really pretty flowers, huh?"

"Oh, the romantic ones."

YN drives confused back to Kain's house, she remembers the drive being longer before they got back together, there were more houses in the neighborhood and that he still lived with his parents. In two weeks she has never heard of his parents… or the neighbors… or the dog he had… where are they?

Her steps are automatic and before she knows it she is in front of a cozy and chic house, with plants in front decorating a beautiful backyard with very green grass and all doubts and questions disappear when she knocks on the door, anxious for her dear boyfriend to answer.

Almost immediately the door opens, he seems to always be waiting for her like a dog anxiously awaits its owner, he would never leave her waiting.

“Good night, darling, I missed you so much.” He wraps her in a comforting hug and gives her a sweet kiss on the forehead, inviting her to come into the house, taking off her coat and boots, a gesture that always makes butterflies fly in YN’s stomach.

Oh, the little gestures < 3…

Wait, what is he wearing?

“Oh, you look beautiful in an apron, you know?” YN compliments her boyfriend, giving him a mischievous smile.

He was wearing a pastel pink plaid apron, with red lace the same shade as his cheeks when he hears her compliment.

“Oh, did you like it? I-i just wanted to surprise you, my love. Let’s celebrate, remember?”

“And how could I forget?” YN hugs him and he quickly wraps his arms around her again “I’d rather be here with you than go out to celebrate with the company.”

“And I’m going to make you enjoy every bit of tonight…” he murmured with a smirk on his lips as he brushed their noses together in a delicate gesture. He took YN’s chin between his fingers, guiding her head to within inches of his mouth. At this moment, YN’s hands began to roam Kain’s body, transforming the moment into something more intimate.

“Oh darling, what a big body you have…” she said in a husky tone, playing with the hem of his shirt. A sneaky hand left trails of fire on Kain’s body.

“It’s to protect you better, my love…” he chuckled, pulling her closer to him with his hands on her waist. The air was heavy between the two of them, and YN delighted in seeing her boyfriend’s pupils dilate like a cat’s.

“Oh darling, what big eyes you have…”

“It’s to see you better, my little one…” he chuckled softly, and his large hands began to explore her body, from her hips to her breasts, firmly cupping her breasts. goosebumps on both of them, some sparks of passion starting to turn into dangerous flames….

“But darling, what big hands you have…” the young woman's body is pressed closer against his warm body as she bats her eyelashes innocently, an innocence that doesn't reach the small smirk on her lips

“Oh, yes darling, I have nice big hands, don't I? It's the better to hold you, sweetheart……” in a husky and low voice he answers, bringing his mouth to YN's neck giving long kisses in the region Kain lets out a soft moan as YN runs her hand through his hair encouraging him, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He looks at YN, blue eyes full of desire and an almost primal hunger, as he continues to kiss and tease the delicate skin…

“Oh but.. darling?” YN breathed

“Yeah?” Kain breathed back

“And why such a big mouth?”

He licks his lips as he brings his girlfriend's face closer with one hand, inches away from her succulent lips, possessively squeezing her curves with the other, making YN moan slightly, their heartbeats synchronizing as they look intensely into each other's eyes…

"It's fo-" The oven alarm goes off, a high-pitched and unromantic sound, making the two young lovers frustrated by the break in the moment.

YN grunts, leaning her head against Kain's chest, feeling embarrassed now that the sound of the alarm has brought her sanity back. She always feels like she loses her self-control around Kain. He laughs lightly at her reaction and strokes her hair gently.

"Hey, it's your surprise in the oven…" he kisses the top of her head "Go take a shower, honey, it's time for me to finish the preparations, okay?" She nods and lets go of him, climbing the stairs to the first floor, almost floating, still recovering from the previous moment with a silly smile on her face, the same one Kain had while preparing the frosting and strawberries for the cake…

YN's nose only realizes now that the house has a very sweet smell, normally she is already used to the smell in the house but today the traditional smell of roses and homey is more like an open candy store, when entering the room she notices that there are more air fresheners than usual in every corner and corner. Kain knows that Yn has a sweet tooth, always looking for desserts and sweet smells and he was very happy to make this house as comfortable as possible… but is he not exaggerating? Nah, never.

The young woman enters the marble bathroom, now with feminine touches everywhere the eye can see: Skincare that smells like tutti frutti gum, soap that smells like strawberries, shampoo that smells like raspberries, towels in a shade of pastel pink, matching the bathroom rugs and the flowers near the mirror.

YN laughs dreamily, who would have thought that for such a big man with such a rough appearance, Kain wouldn't be more than happy to have the same feminine smell as his girlfriend? He insists, as they take a shower together. He insists while using the same floral perfume as his girlfriend, claiming that he wants to have the same smell as his girlfriend, he feels closer to her every time she does leave and he could recognize her sweet scent.

YN leaves the bathroom refreshed and radiant and puts on a comfortable dress but with a slight neckline, delicate pink with white polka dots to match her boyfriend's cute apron. She sighs in relief that the day is finally over and all she will do now is enjoy the night with Kain, he always made her worries melt away with the slightest touch, and with the slightest touch from YN, Kain felt determined to do everything for her.

They were a perfect couple and beautiful to behold.

The world was pink with cotton candy clouds.

The background music was like a fairy tale from an old romance.

What more could she want?

As she dries her hair, she receives a message from her boss and ignores it thinking it must be a photo of the company's celebration or a request to reform some document. Not today, she thought to herself. When the messages became frantic, YN began to find the situation strange and, shrugging her shoulders, decided to pick up her cell phone and check what was happening.

She held her breath.

It wasn't a photo of the company party.

It was an image of Kain's body, dead in a car accident.

It wasn't a message asking her to reform some document.

It was a message in capital letters that screamed in desperation:

Boss: YN THIS IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND. Boss: KAIN DIED IN AN ACCIDENT THREE WEEKS AGO. Boss: RUN AWAY IMMEDIATELY!

YN feels the world fall apart as she lets her cell phone fall from her cold hands, while she keeps the storm of emotions inside her in a confused way. Trembling, she sits on the carefully made bed, and a cold hand tries to cover her half-open mouth. In a state of shock, all the girl can do is stay paralyzed, staring at the emptiness in the room while her hair drips and wets the bed.

No… this can't be real…..

She looks at the photo once more, a big red circle marking the date: It happened three weeks ago.

How….. is this….. possible?

She tries to reason while catching her breath, a mixture of sadness and fear taking over her heart.

"Honey, everything is ready! Are you going down now?" Kain's voice echoes through the house, he is asking at the foot of the stairs while drying his hands.

Fear is not enough.

Panic takes over YN's body so much that she starts to shake horribly and any logical thought disappears, becoming paralyzed.

"Will you be long, sweetheart?"

I need to get away from here. This man wants to kill me. OMG. OH MY GOD! WHAT DO I DO?

"YN?" a voice with more authority in its tone, as if demanding to know why she is not responding.

Amidst the accelerated beats and the pressure in her ears, she hears him take a step on the stairs and terrified she tries to hide it.

"N-no!… ah…. I'm looking… for my perfume." She tries to hide it by stretching to open and close the drawer next to the bed, pretending to be looking.

“Don’t be long, my love, I already miss you <3” he hums in a sweet and passionate tone as he returns to the kitchen.

Quick.

Action plan. Quick. I need help.

YN: Okay, what do you mean by that? (message not sent)

YN: Who is this man then? What is he? (message not sent)

YN: I need to get out of here, please come and get me! (message not sent)

A shiver runs down the girl’s spine when the internet suddenly goes out, what could have happened to her? Will I have to deal with all this alone?

Oh my God…..

She runs a trembling hand through her wet hair trying to calm herself down with all this and for the first time in two weeks she hears the little voice inside her head, the one that said there was something strange with her boyfriend.

He doesn’t know that I know.

An advantage? Yes.

Disadvantage? Anything could be in his plans.

What is he using me for? Why is he pretending to be my boyfriend? Is he behind the real Kain's accident? What if I call the police? What if he wants to kill me while I'm sleeping? What if he poisons me…? Oh no.

YN's eyes widen at the possibility and an overwhelming anxiety takes over her body, her breath catching in her throat, her heart racing, sweat running down her forehead.

"Sweetheart, do you want me to escort the princess to her royal kitchen?" the voice of the aforementioned person is heard in the hallway, he is in the middle of the stairs humming "Have you found your perfume yet, love?"

A second passes.

And another.

"YN, are you okay?"

You need to get out of here. Quickly.

"…… y-yes…… I, I'm… coming down now, okay?" disguising it in a shaky voice, she slowly gets up from the bed and picks up the perfume on the headboard next to the bed, applying it with difficulty because the sweat on her hands made it slip.

She swallows the terrible urge to scream for help, to jump out the window, to tear her hair out, and takes robotic steps until she leaves the room, passing through the damn hallway like a sheep going to the slaughterhouse. At that moment, the various sweet air fresheners make her feel nauseous and her head spins. She rests one hand on the wall as she goes down the stairs, her eyes wide as she holds her breath.

Slowly she takes in the scene: The dining room looks like it came straight out of a romance movie, there are rose petals on the floor and candles in vintage candelabras on the table, in the middle of the table there is a beautiful decorated pink cake and at the entrance is the perfect boyfriend.

"May I have the honors, my princess?" He extends his hand in a chivalrous manner and YN, as an instinct of her body for having done this scene many times, gives him her hand.

Kain's eyes are full of devotion as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of YN's hand, looking her directly in the eyes during the act, the action takes seconds to finish.

“I’m glad you chose me. And as promised, you won’t regret it.” He takes her by the hand and gently pulls out the chair, waiting for his lady to sit down. YN is doing everything she can to not freak out, trying to act as normal as possible, trying to relax at any cost so he doesn’t notice.

“T-thanks for the… kindness, dear.” With a dry mouth she says.

He hums in return, “Oh, anything for you.”

YN can’t help but think that everything he says and does has a hidden meaning now, like a predator sadistically toying with his prey. The young man brings the cake closer so YN can appreciate the vitsa, which he spent the afternoon learning on YouTube how to decorate a cake with icing and create a romantic setting.

“Well…” he clears his throat “I hope you like it, it was my first time doing something like this and I really wanted you to like it.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while giving a charming smile

“Y-yes… yeah, it’s beautiful, love.”

YN forced a smile as she struggled to stay calm, trying not to show the chaos that was unfolding inside her. Her hands were still shaking as she watched Kain cut a piece of the cake and place it on a plate for her.

The strange man, still in the role of the perfect groom, decides to be more romantic and proposes to feed her, in a cute way. He asks YN to open her mouth while trying to make it seem like a sweet and loving scene.

"Open your mouth, honey. Let me give you a piece of cake. Say 'Aah~"

YN opens her mouth automatically, while her mind is still stuck on her boss's words. Her expression is almost absent, as she tries to maintain the facade of apparent calm in front of her boyfriend. Kain puts the piece of cake in YN's mouth and observes her face, thinking that her apparent passivity was a product of the romantic scene they were having. Meanwhile, YN could only think about finding a way to escape from there as quickly as possible.

With each bite, YN felt the fear increase even more, praying to any being in the heavens to save her, for someone to clean up this mess, for her to have the strength to stop him. A wave of ultra sensitivity hits her mind, a result of stress and anxiety, and she can't stop thinking that it's all too much… too much. The cake is too sweet, sickly sweet, the frosting is too pink, the cherries taste too much like cherries, the background music was a soundtrack from her favorite romantic movie making her hair stand on end to the point of pain, capturing every sound and vibration in constant alert, as if at any moment he would take out a knife and stab her.

While YN ate the piece of cake, her mind was still stuck in trying to find a way to escape that situation without giving herself away. She tried to act as normally as possible in front of the stranger in front of her, while her heart was pounding with anxiety and fear.

“Are you okay, love? You seem tense… isn't the cake good?” Kain asks, gently running a hand over YN's cheek and involuntarily she pulls away.

Kain's eyes widen and a twinge of sadness passes through his blue eyes.

YN regrets that.

“S-sorry, love… I'm just tired from work.” YN tries to act as normal as possible but he can almost see through her that there is something bothering her, or to be more exact, he can see through the neckline of her dress that the beautiful woman's heart is abnormally racing.

“But… but the cake is delicious!” To prove the point, she herself picks up the fork and takes a piece of cake to her mouth, holding back the urge to vomit. “Beginner's luck, maybe?” she laughs and teases him a little.

Act normal, woman. Act normal or he'll notice.

“Who knows?” He smiles at her, not understanding what happened but decides to save this subject for later to enjoy the romantic dinner

“I've always been lucky on my first times…” he winks at her

“O-Oh…” YN laughs embarrassedly, not hiding the blush that rises on her cheeks

Dinner soon ends, YN comments a few things about work while Kain gives details of how his day was and in the end they go to watch a movie on the couch cuddling wrapped in soft and warm blankets. YN who was previously so interested in the cinematography of films, obsessively observing each character and each angle now doesn't even know the name of the film or what genre it is.

Would it be horror like a terrible joke of the storm inside herself? Would it be a romantic movie to continue this psychotic game of house?

All she can think is that now is the perfect time to run away.

Now that Kain is sleeping so soundly in her arms with a contented smile.

The clock strikes midnight and with a little trick she manages to leave without waking him, making her steps as light as a feather as she walks to the door, the only source of light being the TV playing scenes from the movie.

Her heart was beating strongly in her veins, she could hear her own heartbeats in her ear as she took a deep breath until she reached the door she had dreamed of, the exit to salvation.

As soon as she puts her cold hand on the doorknob, a brutal realization hits her in the face, she doesn't have her cell phone… and she doesn't know where it is.

With a sharp gulp she decides to go without it because this might be her only chance of survival, she tightly holds the motorcycle keys and opens the door.

"Where are you going at this time of night, sweetheart?" the creature's voice was like a roar held back by teeth, Kain's figure was on the other side of the door making her blood run cold immediately, YN's cell phone was in his big hand with the messages with her boss open.

His figure towers over her trembling form, his head twisting in an inhuman manner, watching YN intently, a horrifying smile on his lips.

For the first time in two weeks, YN smells a repulsive, rotten smell.

A scream is heard.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[alexa-fika]

Hi again first you're a teacher?? Me too soon 😂

Anyway I thought of another weird idea

A child that can see dead people 🏃‍♀️ and he sees corazon when he's with law

Or any other character

I will write a lot of ideas sorry if it's annoying 😅

🐼💕~

A/N:I am a teacher! Im a preschool teacher, that is why writing this in that aspect is really easy because I see their behaviors and shenanigans everyday. What grade will you be teaching??

Also, absolutely not! I love your ideas they are incredible, it will never be annoying trust me, receiving these makes me giggle and kick my feet like a little girl

Dividers by @/saradika

Clumsy Ghostly Guardians ( Law x gn!child!reader x Corazon)

“Dad, Dad!” The child could be seen once again running through the hallways of the submarine, their screams bouncing off the walls as they ran towards their father

Law looks up from his reading as the familiar sound of his child's footsteps approaches him. He sighs, returning his attention back to the medical journal in his hands.

“What is it?”

“Dad, who is the tall ghost who always follows you around?”

“Tall ghost who always follows me around?”

Law puts down his book to give his child his full attention

“What do they look like?”

He watches as the child changes their focus from him to next to him, attentively staring at something

“He’s really tall, he has funny lips, he has a big coat, and he falls a lot too.”

Law's brows furrow as he is genuinely confused by his child's words. However, Law gets a strange feeling in his gut that what they are seeing is none other than Corazon

“…Did they tell you their name?”

“He said his name was Rosinante, but he said you call him Corazon.”

Law's jaw hangs open as he stares at his child. Law never told his child about Corazón, and the fact that reader knows his real name and even his alias...

When the child had eaten the yuta-yuta fruit, the possibility was always at the back of his mind, but he had always brushed it off, thinking that Corazon was either following Doflamingo or Sengoku.

“...how long have you seen him?”

“Since I ate yuta-yuta”

“Since you ate the....”

Law's face goes pale with shock. He has a look of disbelief on his face

“...did he talk to you?”

“Mmhm, he said dad was the cutest when small, said you still have a gloomy expression now.”

Law's expression softens, and he sits down next to his child, trying to process everything that has occurred. He puts a hand on their head, ruffling their hair

“...what else did he say?”

“He said he’s glad you’re safe, what does that mean dad?”

Law shakes his head, trying to keep his emotions under control. He did not expect to encounter such profound news today. Law turns his attention back to his child and gives them a tight smile.

“...he means that he is happy we are safe. Did he say anything else?”

Law strokes their hair with his thumb

“He said that he is proud of you

Law's cheeks blush as tears stream down his face.

“Ah! Dad, why are you crying? Corazon, do something! You made Dad cry, meanie!”

Law covers his face with his sleeve; he struggles to regain his composure. Eventually, his heart starts to slow, and the tears stop

“Don’t worry about it; I’m just happy, Reader-ya.”

“Ah, Corazon fell again”

“Seriusly?!” He groans

So I did made this gender neutral but in Japan a Yuta is a female spirit medium and I couldn’t find a word for medium that would fall within that 4 or 3 alliteration format that the fruits have other than with yuta, and even that was stretching it but yeah, just wanted to let you guys know 😂.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles

Series: Come away, O human child! Part 1:

Secrets hidden in plain sight

Spencer Reid/fem!Reader

Read part 2 here

Warnings: mention of domestic violence and abusive relationship. Reader is married and has a son.

Summary: Spencer meets the son and wife of one of the police officers they are helping at the moment. There's something strange about them.

You could swear that William had made it his life's mission to turn you gray as soon as possible. You couldn't look away for a second and he'd disappear into the crowd. To make matters worse, you were at the police station to drop off your husband's lunch, which he had forgotten at home. You planned to drop it off and leave as quickly as you could, as the whole atmosphere always made you uncomfortable, but it wasn't as if you felt comfortable anywhere.

You knew he had to be somewhere in there, so you started searching the rooms as quickly as possible, passing the other police officers who were looking at you in confusion and trying not to let despair take over. William was safe in there. It wasn't because Steve's colleagues looked away when you appeared injured that they would do your son any harm.

You just prayed you'd find William before Steve did, or you'd never hear the end of how you didn't take care of his son properly. The son he barely remembered he had, even though they lived in the same house.

"Willy? Willy! Thank God!" you exclaimed, seeing your little 5-year-old son's head from afar and approaching at a fast pace. "Don't ever do that again, William! You've got me worried to death!"

The boy at least had the decency to look embarrassed as he whispered an apology.

"I'm sorry, if I'd known you were his mother I would have taken him to you," a voice said.

That's when you became aware of the presence of a strange man, one you'd never seen in the police station before and who wasn't wearing a uniform. Tense, you stood in front of Willy and looked at him suspiciously. He was tall, with brown curls adorning a face that would have made you blush if you were still at college, but at the moment, he was the suspicious man talking to your son.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," he muttered as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and showed you his ID. "Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI. We're helping with the case of the missing girls."

Spencer avoided frowning when he saw that even your identity didn't completely reassure you, you still looked as tense as before, even though you were no longer hiding your child behind your body. Being a profiler, he couldn't help but analyze other people, focusing on the way you looked tired, with dark circles under your eyes and your skin pale in an almost unhealthy way, your long-sleeved shirt being too hot. You didn't seem to be attacking him, you seemed to be defending yourself. As if you genuinely believed that Spencer was going to hurt you. It was strange.

"Mom, he's a wizard! It's incredible!" William exclaimed, attracting their attention.

You turned your focus away from Spencer for a moment, giving your son a weak smile as you stroked his hair, even though you didn't know what he was talking about.

"Um..." Spencer began, and you turned to see what he was going to say. "I thought it would be a good idea to distract him with magic tricks, you know? While I couldn't find his parents."

Forcing yourself to relax, you took a deep breath before flashing your most genuine forced smile at the FBI agent.

"Thank you for that. He's so hyper."

"No need to thank me, he was a great stagehand."

The doctor's smile seemed genuine in a way you hadn't seen in a long time and it almost unsettled you. You didn't like that, you couldn't have predicted what would come next. With Steve, you almost always knew what to do. When to send William to his room so he wouldn't see anything that would traumatize him, when to apologize, and when to stay silent. Spencer Reid was a valley of strangeness that you decided you hated.

"There you are! I thought you weren't coming." You heard the grumble of that familiar voice, the heavy footsteps coming closer and closer and you had to remind yourself that he wouldn't do anything in public.

"I was just... a little late."

Spencer knew exactly how to recognize fear when he saw it. It was an instinctive reaction, the immediate shudder when she heard the voice of the policeman approaching the three of them. The man was part of the search team he had been introduced to earlier. No one worth paying much attention to so far.

"Dad." William spoke, much more withdrawn than before, albeit with a small smile on his face.

Reid understood what he was doing; the boy was waiting for an instruction from his mother. He had seen enough tense family dynamics in his life.

When you left, going out with Steve - your husband, probably, the rings matched - her gaze met Spencer's again. What he saw there made any explanation unnecessary.

- Hey, Reid. Come and look at this. - Derek called out.

Distracted by work for the rest of the day, Spencer still couldn't get his gaze off his head. It was empty. Without any kind of hope. Without even the desperation that would at least indicate that you were trying to ask for help.

"Morgan," he said at a random moment in the day, making his friend turn to him, "how often do you think women accept abuse at home because they have children?"

Derek snorted.

"In my experience? All the time."

That made his stomach sink.

In the next chapter: Spencer sees a mark on you. He decides that if no one is going to do anything about it, then he will. If only he can convince you to accept help.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

broken trust. [part 4] l Joel Miller

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings:  angst, swearing, mentioning about death, a few infected, violence (only a little anger poured out on him), crying, guns

A/N: I have a few words for you. First, I wanted to thank you very much, because every feedback is very important and constructive to me. Second, this part caused me some problems, I hope you will be gentle with me. I read so many fantastic stories from such incredibly talented people at that time, that I couldn't look positive at what I was writing. So my uncertainty is understandable. Third, I would like to write another part and I hope I will succeed, because I would like to end this story in a nice way. I will see what will come of it... Now, I hope you will spend a few nice minutes reading my scribbles. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 🖤 

[PART 3]

Why was it so hard? 

You felt guilty that you couldn't get back on track. You saw that Joel was trying to get closer to you, trying to fix that broken bridge between the two of you, but you knew that you were constantly tiptoeing around the biggest problem.

You felt betrayed.

When Joel Miller disappeared from your life, or rather you wrote yourself out of it, you didn't bother with him. You had to focus on yourself, on finding your place and the role you wanted to play in this world, without him. You pushed him to the back of your mind and moved on.

And now you saw him almost every day. Your heart ached every time you looked at him, when you heard that voice you knew so well. And you hated yourself even more when he made those little gestures that should have moved you. Because he cared about you, right?

For a few days, you had been pretending that things were good between you two, or maybe moderately good. After having a drink at the bar, you talked a few more times. Once Joel even visited you at the clinic and brought you:

"I thought of you." he said uncertainly, handing you a small, fresh loaf of bread wrapped in a cotton towel.

You both kept circling each other, keeping up all the appearances and pretending that everything was fine. And you felt everything inside you boiling.

And what should you have said? 

When Tommy asked who was going on the next patrol and you volunteered, Joel was right behind you. You were hoping that getting out of Jackson would give you a little time to clear your head, you didn't need that kind of company. But you didn't say a word, because what were you supposed to say... 

"You okay?" You nodded, packing your bag with water and something to eat.

“It's just a headache.”

You wanted to avoid looking directly at Joel, even though you knew he was watching you. In a strange way, his presence was making you more and more nervous.

You felt that all it would take was a spark to explode everything inside you. But you wanted to avoid it. There was nothing good about it.

The day was cold, although the weak sun was trying to break through the thick clouds. You took careful steps on the forest floor, trying to let your thoughts wander lazily. Joel was walking a dozen or so steps away from you. Sometimes you looked at him.

It was a strange feeling. You knew him. You knew every inch of his body. No one was as close to you as he was, no one knew what he knew about you. You trusted him then and in some way, you trusted him now. But everything between you was torn and you didn't know if there was any point in fixing it.

Joel raised his hand and you stopped, looking around carefully. He pointed out something in front of you, some movement, and after a moment you smiled at the sight of a deer with cubs. They moved uncertainly through the forest, but although neither of you moved, they must have sensed your presence, because after a moment, they ran away, startled. 

You didn't notice Joel approaching you, your gaze still wandering between the trees.

"You seem so absent." he said. "Because of me?"

"Sometimes." you replied, adjusting your bag a bit so as not to look at him again. "Or maybe I've just always been like this."

"You weren't like that. You know… I don't expect things to be like they used to be between us."

"Good. Because it never will be." you interrupted him. "Can we go now?"

"This is Y/N. She will lead you to this area." The old man pointed at you.

"Have you ever been there?"

You looked at the man who asked this question. He didn't say much from the beginning, but he justified everyone with his gaze. He gave the impression that he thought he was much better than you and it was no wonder that you didn't like him from the first moment.

"More times than you, for sure." You replied and pulled a map of the building out of your pocket.

"Is this the evacuation plan for the building?" he asked with interest and leaned over the table.

"Smartass." You mumbled and pointed to the locations you were interested in. "A few walls in this building have collapsed, but we can get through, although it's quite tight."

"And you can handle this?"

This man was getting annoying.

"You definitely won't get through." You replied. "That's why you need me."

"How many infected?"

"Less than in other places. If we do it quickly and quietly, they won't even notice us."

He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the map spread out on the table. The old man looked at you uncertainly, and you sighed.

"You don't have to marry me, just decide if you want me to take you there."

"You wanted someone to take you there, and I say - she will."the old man added, "I wouldn't risk it with anyone else if I were you."

The man finally nodded and extended his hand to you.

"Joel."

You shook his hand.

The room was dimly lit, and rubble was strewn across the floor. Joel held his gun at the ready, listening for any noise, but the building was quiet. A few minutes ago, you had slipped into the space between the collapsed wall and what used to be the door to the medicine warehouse.

No noises came from there either.

"Y/N?" he muttered quietly towards the crack where you had disappeared, "Y/N?"

Nothing, not a sound.

Shit!

"I wouldn't risk it with anyone else." he sneered at the old man's words, "Fuck! Y/N? Is everything okay?"

Suddenly, a bag fell out from between the collapsed walls and landed right at Joel's feet. Then he noticed your hand and the rest of you as you squeezed back in.

"I had to rummage through the shelves a bit." you said, picking up the bag and showing him its contents. "But I think I have everything. It's a real mess there."

"Have you started cleaning up?"

"A simple 'Thank you' would have sounded better." you snapped. "I got you some Viagra. Maybe it'll cheer you up."

You could see he wanted to say something, he even opened his mouth, but he just shook his head in disbelief and headed for the door.

You got to the ground floor and from there to the back exit. Everything was going perfectly. You could already see the door when suddenly an unexpected sound broke the silence. You looked at Joel, he must have kicked something metal.

"Fuck." you hissed when an unnatural noise echoed in the room next door.

Joel aimed his rifle at the door, and you quickly reached for your weapon. You started to head faster towards the door, but at that moment many things happened at once. The door on the other side opened and two clickers fell out.

You stopped, remembering that the noise could have directed them to you. You felt Joel's hand tighten on your wrist, he slowly headed for the exit. However, you didn't notice the glass on the floor and with the next step, the clickers rushed at you.

Joel aimed, but his rifle didn't fire.

"Fuck!"

The second monster rushed at you with a scream, but you didn't hesitate. You aimed and fired a few times. The noise echoed through the hall.

Joel kept trying to cock the rifle, cursing under his breath. You knew you couldn't leave him like that.

"That was stupid." he hissed again as you walked towards QZ.

You didn't answer. He repeated it every now and then like a kind of mantra. You managed to get out of the building, that was the most important thing, and you didn't see the point in going back to it.

"You said there were no infected there." he muttered, catching up to you.

"I said there were fewer of them than elsewhere. They must have come recently." you replied calmly.

"How many times have you been there before?"

"I don't know." you shrugged, "A few."

"Do you go there alone?"

You looked at him, surprised.

"What? Do you think I take guys there on dates? Don't be ridiculous." you snorted, "It's business."

"What you did was stupid." Joel growled again.

"If you think saving your life is stupid then do me a favor, go and get bit by one of them and I'll gladly shoot you in that pompous head!"

Joel didn't say anything, but he followed you. You impressed him, and that rarely happened.

"Would you like to have a drink with me?" he asked some time later as you sat down to look through what you had brought.

"Are you still going to be so grumpy?" you smiled.

Joel felt like an uninvited guest in your life, at least in the life you created for yourself after you left QZ. And although at first it seemed to him that you took your reunion really well, now he felt like you were thousands of miles away from him, even if it was just a few steps.

He could see your back, but it felt like your thoughts were echoing through the forest and hitting him straight. Your silence told him more than a thousand words that could have been said.

You were so lost in your head that even when Joel stopped for a while you didn't stop walking.

Did that mean he had lost you completely? Did he lose you when everything he had done came to light? Did he lose you because he only wanted you to be safe, because he didn't want to lose you? Did he ever really have you for himself?

You finally stopped and looked over your shoulder, searching for him with your eyes. God! Joel thought you looked like a wounded animal. And was he the predator?

He found you lying in bed, you smelled of cheap soap and were only wrapped in a towel. He immediately sensed that something was wrong. He knelt down by the bed and in the dim light he saw your reddened eyes.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, pushing back the hair that stuck to your wet cheeks, "What happened?"

He stroked your arm and felt how cold you were.

"How long have you been lying there? You should get dressed, honey." he murmured with concern.

"I can't live like this anymore, Joel..." you whispered.

He looked at you, frowning, but didn't say anything, he didn't want to interrupt you. The words started pouring out of you along with a new flood of tears.

A few days ago you were at work, busy with your own things, but you noticed the new people who appeared in QZ. The guards were leading them to the quarantine area. These were normal procedures for every newcomer. You saw a family there, and a woman in advanced pregnancy.

You didn't care too much about it though. "Normal procedures" you repeated in your mind. But today everything was different. When you had your break you noticed a car carrying bodies. Normal procedures. But nothing about it was normal.

"I saw that woman, Joel..." you sobbed. "It was her. I'm sure of it."

You sat up in bed, completely devastated. Joel held his hands on your neck, he felt your heart rate increase, how you were gasping for breath.

"Maybe it wasn't her." he said uncertainly.

"I know what the fuck I saw!" you groaned "Her belly… the children that were with her... I thought it didn't affect me anymore, that I had seen enough..."

"Baby..."

"I can't forget about her. I came back home. I tore my skin in the shower for so long to wash it all off, but I can't."

Only then did he notice your reddened arms and hands. Joe felt something heavy sink into his stomach at the sight. He had never seen you like this before, so broken, so defenseless.

"You can't think about it." he began calmly. "You're safe here. With me. You know I won't let anything happen to you."

"Her husband must have promised her that too..."

These words hung between you. You were right, you knew it perfectly well. You had risked your lives so many times, but you were still here. Joel thought it was a perfect joke of fate. He didn't question it, though, because the most important thing now was you. He had someone to do all this for.

"I'll get you out of here, I promise." his voice was calm and soothing. "We'll find a way. We'll get out and I'll take you somewhere where you'll be happy."

"I'm happy with you, Joel..." you whispered, staring at him expectantly.

You were ready to accept any of his promises. You would take anything he gave you to feel better, a little more alive. And he gave it to you. Joel gave you the promise of freedom. It might not have been perfect, but it was yours. Just yours and his. The promise that one day you would get out and see more, live more. And be together, because you couldn't imagine any other life than with him.

"Fuck!"

You fell down feeling the small stones cut your hands. For a moment you wondered if you should just stay like that. You probably preferred lying in the middle of the forest with your knees bruised than having to stay stuck in all this.

But this pain was good, somehow. It took you away from all the dark thoughts circulating in your head and from the emotions swirling in your chest. For that one moment, when you were lying on the ground and smelled the forest, all you could hear was your heart beating, you forgot about everything.

And then it all came back with double the force.

"You okay? Here, let me help you." You looked at Joel's hand stretched out towards you. "You have to be more careful. There are a lot of roots here."

"I can handle it." You replied, supporting yourself with your hands and getting up yourself, but then you hissed in pain.

The stones dug deeper into your skin, cutting you even more. Despite everything, Joel grabbed your arm and helped you up, although you immediately moved away from him.

"Did you hurt yourself?" his voice was calm, as if he hadn't noticed your behavior. Or maybe he had and was trying to be gentle with you?

"It's fine." you mumbled, wiping your hands on your jacket. "It's nothing."

"Show me."

"No."

"Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn, Y/N?"

"And why do you have to be so fucking caring?" you blurted out.

Joel watched you carefully as if he was digesting your words, until he finally shrugged.

"I think you know why." he mumbled. "I care about you."

"Oh, really?" you scoffed.

You pulled a bottle of water out of your bag and tried to wash your hands. It wasn't easy, but when he tried to help you again, everything happened in a flash.

"Don't touch me." you snapped, stepping back. "I don't want you to touch me."

"I just want to help you." Joel raised his hands to show that he meant no harm. "You cut yourself, I can bandage it."

"I don't need your help, Joel! I was doing great before you showed up."

"Really? That's where you got that fresh scar on your side? After you were doing great?"

You were furious. You felt your entire skin burning, and Joel's presence only made it worse. You were standing in front of each other again, like when everything he did turned out to be true. You had kept it to yourself for so long that it had to explode.

"I can't look at you." Your voice was clear, though Joel heard you tremble with emotion. "I can't look at you when you try to pretend that nothing happened between us. That now everything will be like it used to be. You betrayed me, Joel. You told me to trust you, and you..."

"I'm sorry." he took a step towards you "You don't even know how much I regretted what I did. Every day, baby..."

"Don't call me that!" you interrupted him quickly.

He sighed and looked down.

"Ever since you left... I didn't think I'd see you again." he continued with a pained voice "Howard said you left town that same night. I didn't know where to look for you."

"Bullshit!" you snapped "Am I supposed to believe that you filled my head with this crap that we'd get out of QZ together, then you took it all away from me and suddenly you wanted to look for me?! Why?! Who was I to you, Joel?! I was just a stupid cunt who crawled to you every night hoping that she meant something to you..."

You couldn't know how much those words hurt him. You could call him anything, curse him, get mad and pull away from his touch, but when you degraded yourself to the role of an object. No, Joel couldn't stand that.

"You were everything, Y/N!" he roared angrily "Are you happy with this?! You were everything to me, and I didn't have the fucking courage to tell you! I was afraid I wouldn't survive if something happened to you. You hated QZ, but you were safe there! And could I provide that to you outside the walls? No!"

"I don't need your protection! I didn't need it before you showed up and I didn't need it after!" you walked up, pointing a finger at him "You were my partner! My lover! My fucking everything! I would have let myself be torn to pieces for you! And you stabbed me in the back! For what reason? Because of concern? Thank you very much!"

"I made a mistake, okay?! I understood it then, but I can't turn back time! What else do I have to do? How much do I have to apologize to you? Hit me if it helps you, I don't fucking care!"

You hit him in the chest with your clenched hand. You were probably surprised yourself, because you immediately withdrew your hand. Joel raised his eyebrows.

"Is that all you can do, babe? I know damn well that you can do it harder."

So you did it again, and again. And Joel didn't even flinch. He knew you had to get all your anger out at him. He saw your tearful eyes and how with each punch you lost your strength, until finally your knees buckled and you sat on the ground, crying loudly.

You reached your limits. You no longer had anything inside you but tears.

And then you felt him next to you again. He sat down. His strong arms wrapped around you, he let you snuggle up to him and just held you as you burst into tears.

[PART 5]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

[librarycards]

hi sarah. feel free to delete this if it’s too much, but do you know of any work (academic, personal essays, art, etc) about grieving someone who’s died to suicide/wishing they were alive while also grappling with how to square it with your anti-psych, anti-carceral, pro-bodily autonomy politics? for reference i’ve read Alexandre Baril’s paper on Suicidism before and may revisit it in this light, as well as aleks thom's writing on disenfranchised grief and your lovely recent poem about suicide, but i’m sort of at a loss about where to look for other work about the intersection of these specific topics. many thanks and much love in advance

thank you so much for asking! i feel strange saying "i'm sorry for your loss" because it's clichéd and trite and you've heard it a billion times before. i am sorry, though, and i am equally sorry that you carry your loss into a world that is so deeply hostile to everyone affected by suicide – loved ones, those who have attempted, those who have completed, those who are dealing with suicidal thoughts, all of us.

i think that perhaps the most useful thing to remember is a bit simpler and a lot more challenging than can be conveyed in a paper or poem. it's that peoples' bodyminds are their own, including when they treat said bodyminds in ways we on the outside don't like. this is true for people who do all manner of "unhealthy" and "self-harmful" things, and as loved ones, it's incredibly fucking hard to witness, especially when the consequences are deadly.

suicide grief, and in general, work by loved ones and caregivers to those of us who experience extreme states, is pretty tough to find in the area of Mad studies. this is partially justified, given the degree to which we've all been spoken over and around by abusive "caregivers." yet it also denies the simultaneity embedded in basically any Mad community: we are all both, because we're all together and hurting at once.

i actually have two friends who have written about their own experiences as suicidal + Mad people who have lost close people to suicide: MT Vallerta, a scholar-poet [check out In Memoriam], and poet S.G. Huerta [you should read their poetry book, Last Stop].

Sophie Lewis also wrote an intriguing piece that touches on suicidality, death doulaing, and kinship.

Emily Krebs studies suicide/bereavement from a Mad crip abolitionist perspective, and is worth checking out.

i think it's also a good idea to remember that a way to honor those who have completed suicide is to take better care of suicidal people who are still alive. it only does more harm to suicidal people to approach ideation/attempts carcerally, and indeed encourages more covert, risky, and isolated methods rather than open dialogue. here are some ways to honor - not only support, but truly honor, trust, and respect suicidal people:

candidly speak about death, self-harm, and "dark thoughts" - and what to do around them - before and outside of immediate crises. be explicit in your intentions to support those who are actively suicidal before the next crisis occurs. ask people their preferences - who should you call? is the hospital ever on the table, and if so, under what conditions? who will be there to advocate for them when interacting with carceral authorities?

be candid about how their actions affect you, without placing blame. when someone attempts suicide, everyone they love is affected. this is not the person's fault, but it is something that needs to be addressed in community. here's an example from my own life: a dear friend was forcibly hospitalized after an attempt. i had been a main support person of hers in previous crises, when we lived near each other. when we spoke about her experience months later, i admitted that i felt "guilty" and as though i had somehow caused her to be institutionalized by living in a different place now. she admitted to me that she felt "guilty" for having "let [her loved ones] down" and "letting" her health deteriorate. we were able to find comfort and commonality in our affective experiences, and have become better friends for it.

cool it with the solutions. ask for consent before doing anything, but especially giving advice. many people kill themselves, or try to, because they feel cornered - often for very logical reasons (poverty, oppression, abuse/complex trauma). the adage that a poor person probably has more financial wisdom than a rich advice-giver holds true here, so don't immediately offer tips unless they've asked for them. sometimes, suicidality isn't connected to anything concrete, either, or a person's reasoning doesn't "make sense" (duh). if someone has the courage and trust to come to you with their feelings of suicidality, what they need most is someone to listen, to take them seriously, and to afford them the same personhood that they would have otherwise.

when people disclose thoughts of suicide, they take an immense risk in terms of their safety and credibility, and they do so because it is not possible to be a person alone. but, we also need to hold simultaneously that the individuals who do their best to support a loved one, but are not equipped to do so, are also not at fault for somehow "killing" them. suicide is incredibly complex, and suicide grief perhaps even moreso than other types of grief.

i also don't have concrete answers as to what to do about this conflict between our emotions around suicide - wanting to save a person we love, wanting them to stop hurting, being willing to do anything to keep them around - and imagining a world against and beyond the institution in all its permutations. but i know we will move toward it together through open conversation and trust and collective risk. much love and respect to you for asking such a challenging question during a heartbreaking time. <3

[classyrunawaynightmare]

⊹₊ ⋆Jᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ - ⊹₊ ⋆ᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ

——— ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔸 ⁿᵒ ʷᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍˢ ⁻ ᶠᶦʳˢᵗ ᵖᵒˢᵗ, ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᶦᵗꜝ ⁽ᶦᵍⁿᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃʳ ᵉʳʳᵒʳˢ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ 😭⁾

You and Ellie were playing a children's board game since you had nothing to do on that dry autumn afternoon... the day was boring and neither of you knew what to do so you found this old game about the land of sweets. You took a card and it told you how many houses you had to walk through... three yellow... two purple... one blue... until you reached the kingdoms of jelly beans, peanut butter, chocolate, cookies and blah blah blah. ...it was still boring

"What a stupid game..." - She says while she sigh - "How about truth or dare? Huh?" - You ask, with a bit of provocation in your tone - ... "Sure, why not?" - She accepts the challenge and picks up a bottle of water and spins it on the floor, and stops in your direction - "Uhm... Truth or dare?"... "Truth" - She says - ... "So, who was your first breakup?" - Ellie didn't expect such a direct question despite knowing that you had a certain attitude but appearing to be as shy as her sometimes...

"So that's the level you're willing to go?" - Ellie smirks - "Well... it was tragic, I think it's not one of my best memories... she was special to me"... - "She?" - You ask - "I thought it was obvious" - You both laugh at it... It was funny to think that your best friend once had a girlfriend... that wasn't you, uh?...why would you ever think of her like that! You've been friends since she arrived in Jackson, stop!... "Well..." oh no, you started to lose focus, getting lost in those freckles that made her more adorable than she already was, in that cute button nose, in that eyes.. focused on you (and as green as Eugene's plantation...).

There was tension in the air all of a sudden which made the two of you look away... it was strangely good... you had been thinking about Ellie that way for a while but it was always a denial for you, you didn't know why you felt that way but you couldn't help but feel the butterflies in your stomach every time you saw her smile or make a silly jokes... and it was an incredible feeling. You were madly in love with Ellie, and it left a hot trail across your chest, up to your neck and then your cheeks, and you were there blushing like a real fool and Ellie seemed to have a little fun with the awkward situation, she was giving a smirk that you knew what it meant.

And with that she slowly approaches you, and all you can focus on now are her lips... the anxiety of your first kiss forming in your belly, you froze and with that Ellie just took your face on her hands and brought you close, kissing you... It was soft, innocent and good... You lost yourself in her lips for a few seconds, savoring every moment of it...

"Ellie, you there?" - Joel knocked on the door and you immediately separated from her, what made you sad for a moment, missing that feeling...

Joel opens the door to see the two of you with your faces looking like a tomato.... He doesn't ask anything but imagines what possibly happened... yeah, Ellie is growing up...

[archiveikemen]

『Love Sparks From A Mean Lie』 Collection Event

Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

Kate: … Haa…

Ellis: Nn… a little more…

Our lips finally parted, albeit reluctantly.

I loved kissing Ellis, but I also loved the moment when our lips parted.

It made me happy seeing the affectionate look in his eyes as he gazed at me.

Kate: … Ah.

Ellis: What’s wrong?

Kate: You smell like cigarette smoke…

Kate: Fufu. Must’ve rubbed off on you from Jude.

Ellis: …

Ellis’ twilight coloured eyes flickered like a flame in the wind for a split second, but it was so brief that I thought I could've been mistaken…

Ellis: Can we… continue?

Our lips met again, the slight feeling of unease pushed to the back of my head.

…

Victor: … Come, let's go through again the plan for today's mission.

Victor: Jude, Ellis, Kate, the three of you will be attending a social party.

Victor: Our target for this mission is a noble who has been suspected for involvement in smuggling dangerous goods.

Victor: Jude will propose a business deal and observe the target’s response.

Victor: In the meantime, Ellis and Kate will keep an eye on the surroundings to make sure there are no suspicious activities.

Kate: Understood.

Ellis: Got it.

Victor: Jude, let’s discuss the deal you’ll propose to the target. We need to make it sound real!

While Victor and Jude went on with their talk, Ellis approached me quietly.

Ellis: … Hey, Kate.

Kate: What's the matter? Ah… is it about the mission?

Ellis: Nope. Not that…

Ellis: Just wanted to tell you that the underwear I’m wearing today is incredibly sexy.

Kate: …

Kate: … HUH!?

(Ellis’ underwear is… s-sexy…?)

Unable to comprehend what he just said, for a moment it felt like any thoughts I had just got flung into the void.

Ellis: Fufu, look at you frozen. You’re so cute.

Ellis had an innocent smile on his face, like a little boy who successfully played a prank.

(I didn't hear that wrong…)

Kate: Um…

Victor: Ellis. Can we go through the weapons you’ll be carrying for the mission?

Ellis: Okay, got it.

Ellis: … Remember what I said, Kate.

Ellis: When I come home from the mission, I’ll show you what I’m wearing.

Without being able to confirm what he really meant by that statement…

Ellis went to check weapons with Victor.

(W-What is “sexy underwear!? I’ve never seen such a thing before…)

(Doesn’t Ellis always wear regular underwear…?)

Kate: U-Uhh… Jude. Has Ellis bought any strange things recently?

I asked Jude who had just finished talking to Victor, and he gave me a puzzled look.

Jude: Strange things…?

Jude: Ahh, yeah he did. He bought something pretty damn strange.

(“Strange”... so he DID buy sexy underwear!?)

(... What is men’s sexy underwear?)

And so the mission began, and it went without a hitch…

All I could think of was Ellis’ underwear.

…

Even after we returned to the castle, my head was still full of Ellis.

(I want to ask Ellis about the true meaning of what he said and clear this up quickly, but…)

(He went to see Victor to report on the mission, so I can’t do that until he gets back.)

Kate: *sigh*...

Liam: Kate. The tea I carefully poured for you has gone cold, you know?

Kate: Oh… you’re right.

I drank the cup of cold tea in one go when Liam pointed that out.

Kate: Sorry, I got too carried away thinking about underwear…

Liam: Underwear…?

Harrison: … Is that something we should be hearing?

Kate: Ah, not my underwear!

(It’s pointless fretting about this alone… I should ask the two of them for advice.)

Kate: Generally speaking… what does it mean when someone buys bold underwear?

Liam: You mean something like underwear set aside for special occasions?

Harrison: … I have now decided that I’m disengaging myself from this conversation.

Liam: Hmm. It could also be to spice up their bedroom life with their lover, I guess?

Kate: Bedroom…

Liam: There could be other reasons too, of course; like buying it just because it’s cute or it gets them in the mood.

Liam: Ellis doesn’t seem to be the type of guy to care about such things, so he must've bought it for you.

Harrison: … He’s probably up to his usual “it’s for Kate’s happiness” shenanigans again.

Kate: Eh!? I-I never said it was Ellis’ underwear…

Harrison: If it isn’t about you, then it must be about Ellis.

Liam: Yeah. … It’s a whole other problem altogether if you’re talking about someone else’s underwear.

(It was that obvious…)

…

(To spice up our bedroom life… huh.)

(... Does that mean he’s unsatisfied with our current situation?)

Kate: … Okay then.

I made a decision and headed to my bedroom.

…

Ellis: Kate, I’m back.

Kate: Ellis…! Welcome back!

The man who had been running through my mind all day returned.

Kate: Um… about what you said earlier today…

Ellis: Fufu… were you curious about it the whole time?

Ellis noticed my fidgeting and laughed in amusement.

Ellis: … Okay. Want to check it out yourself?

Ellis removed his belt and guided my hand to his pants.

Kate: …

My heart was racing at the thought of finally seeing what he meant by “sexy underwear”.

— Or so I thought.

What I saw when I pulled down Ellis’ pants was none other than a pair of the ordinary underwear he has always worn.

Kate: … Isn’t this your usual underwear?

Ellis: Yup. I was lying about the sexy underwear.

Kate: What!? Why would you…

Ellis: Remember when we were making out last night, you mentioned that Jude’s scent rubbed off on me?

Kate: I did, but…

Ellis: … I don’t like it. I don't like it that your mind shifted to Jude even for just a moment.

Ellis: That’s why… I wanted to get “revenge” for that by making sure I’m all you can think of today.

He was indeed all I could think of today, just like he intended.

Kate: … I see. I’m sorry.

Ellis: Don’t apologise, okay? It’s my fault for being so narrow-minded. Also…

Ellis: … I’m sorry for giving you false hope about seeing my underwear, Kate.

Ellis: I didn’t expect to see you get that disappointed when you pulled down my pants to see my usual underwear…

Kate: T-That’s not the case! Apart from being surprised because I’ve been curious about it for a while, I promise there’s no deeper meaning to it…

Kate: It’s because even Jude said you bought something strange recently…!

Ellis: I bought something strange recently…? … Oh.

Ellis: Al said he wanted that, so I was only buying it on his behalf… that should be what Jude was referring to.

(I misunderstood…!)

Ellis: … I’m sorry for lying to you. Do you forgive me?

Kate: I forgive you. … But can you leave my room for a bit?

Ellis: … Are you angry at me?

Kate: Not at all! It’s just… there was a misunderstanding…

Ellis: Misunderstanding?

Kate: … I thought that the reason why you bought sexy underwear was because you were unsatisfied with our bedroom life.

Kate: So…

Kate: … I-I put on that kind of lingerie too. … S-Sexy lingerie. Now I want to change back to my normal underwear.

Ellis: … You’re wearing it now?

Kate: Y-Yes…

Ellis: I want to see it. Show me.

Ellis forcefully pushed me onto the bed.

Ellis: … Since it’s something you prepared just for me, I want to appreciate it properly.

When he said that in such an endearing way, it made me feel like I had no choice but to give in.

That “thing” I prepared was perfectly effective…

My heart was once again filled with joy from the sweet feelings of love that sparked from a lie.

[mozzaicynth]

one thought everyday and its just the amazing world of gumball especially these three freaks (doodles + some headcanons below :3)

mr small -

my interpretation of small becoming more mellowed out in the future seasons as opposed to season 1 is him managing his anger in a more healthier way (meditation, etc) (plus i think all those herbal infusions are incredibly effective on the nerves) . that being said i think he still has underlying anger issues and lashes out if prompted too much . another reason hes nicer and more of a pushover in the later seasons is because i like to think hes guilty of his plethora of outbursts earlier on, especially towards students (unwarranted shouting which as a school counsellor he should know is pretty harmful on younger kids) . the fact that he tries to offer his help when its absolutely not needed so many times later on in the show further makes me like to think he’s making up for it all

hes also so autistic to me hes on the spectrum you cant tell me otherwise and i think hes pretty awkward and considered strange by the whole town (which is saying a lot for elmore standards) . still super friendly and approachable but he also cant take hints and he definitely stims (and has special interests, alternative medicine are you kidding)

his music taste i love to think is all over the place … i get the general consensus is he listens to mystic chants and sitar music but he definitely listens to more, ranging from pop to indie to rock to metal (this may or may not have become an idea when i was listening to ‘darts by soad and associated it with him,) . also what with his stupid little self funded album that is such a jarring listen ‘cause of all the ridiculous genre changes

i think he crochets/macrames as a hobby along with other diy stuff (most of the decorative items in his home crafted by him) making him, surprisingly considering how incompetent he is sometimes, super crafty/handy .

larry -

larry is a great person: incredibly intelligent, he’s very knowledgable on a plethora of subjects and he has a big heart, holding little to no virtriol against the people of elmore (except the wattersons but that is SO warranted) . thus i like to imagine he did great in school, moved on to do so wonderfully in uni whilst juggling jobs and his studies but after graduation was left stuck (alike so many people nowadays) . neither small or larry came from well off families but i think for larry he didn’t have much of a support system anyway so currently he overworks and works and works just to catch up on the student debt whilst simultaneously paying his taxes (i still think about that episode all the time fuck the police . big pink son of a bitch), loans and not to mention the bare minimum to keep himself alive

he’s a very sweet and kind person but anyone under the immense stress that he’s under would be irritable and temperate (he deserves to be more angry imo) and i whilst he has so many jobs he always aims to excel at all of them, having an incredibly particular way that tasks must be done and having them organised . because of this, he can be a lot more temperate when interacting with coworkers, especially those who don’t do their job as well, having to take matters into his own hands . as he and karen (his girlfriend throughout the series) share some jobs it puts a strain on their relationship (which was built off of the mutual ‘having several jobs’) and they break up .

even so, though larry consistently tries to propose to her in the show, in “the laziest” he doesn’t seem to be happy nor comfortable at all with the prospects of marrying her . in fact, even when he’s achieved the ‘american dream’ (properties like a house and car and a family (his girlfriend soon to be wife)) he’s unhappy . personally i don’t think he knows what he wants to do with himself ; he works all day and night and has little to no time for himself to even think in peace that the only purpose he knows is work .

i like to think he used to be an artist; self taught, it was a hobby and an enjoyment but his studies and his work took over so his one form of self expression was squeezed out of his life .. (i like making their lives as bleak as possible soz ! 🙏) he still admires the arts and i think that’s another reason he likes steve so much; his handcrafts and mini projects .

steve and larry are two opposites that are similar in ways .. but i love their dynamic so much . my interpretation of them is that steve will help larry balance out his life slightly better to leave room for himself instead of working 24/7 . steve has his head in the clouds and larry grounds him, and larry is so stuck in his ways with work that steve pulls him out of it slightly, lifting him up a little higher (AUGHHHGHH I HATE THEM I HATE THEM

as for their relationship with rob, im very much a stevelmeyer adoption truther !! both larry and steve coming from dysfunctional families, they aim to help rob and take care of him to the best of their abilities . further, larry taking on taking care of rob gives him direction in his life again . 😁😁😁😁😁😁

this isnt gonna be the last post headcanon/idea wise i still think of them 24/7 but heres jus SOME things .. (im such a yapper sprry not sorry !) :3c

[mikwaa]

Hello there! If it's ok, can I please request the anemo boys (Venti, Kazuha, Xiao, Heizou and Wanderer) with a fem!s/o who feels excluded but is afraid to come off as clingy, so she doesn't talk about it until her boyfriend confronts her on why she has been so distant and gloomy? And then she explains that he has been busy, and she understands it, but it made her upset that he was still spending time with his friends, just not with her and she thought he was getting tired of her and stuff...

A/n: Hey! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Featuring: Kazuha, Venti, Scaramouche, Heizou, Xiao

Xiao:

"Are you already going?" Xiao reluctantly asks you. "Yes, it's late. You must be tired too, I don't want to disturb you." From your tone, it wasn't hard to tell that you were a bit downhearted. He takes you by the arm, making you look at him. "What's bothering you?" Since you arrived, you've been quiet most of the time. He felt so worried, he didn't have much experience with relationships, and so had a certain insecurity about it. "No, it's okay. I'm just a little tired, don't worry." It wasn't just tiredness, you were feeling sad because you thought you were a nuisance to your boyfriend. "I know you, I know something is wrong." Concern was growing in his chest. At this point you already had tearful eyes, "I just don't want to be a burden to you." "What are you talking about?" He was genuinely confused, not knowing why you were talking like that. "Nothing, I said too much." You try to play it off, but Xiao had already become too intrigued. "Did I do something? You're worrying me." He approaches you face to face. "I've been finding you distant lately, but I guess it must be my impression." And you sounded so embarrassed, you didn't want him to be bothered by it. "Why didn't you tell me before? You know I always have time for you." With one hand he strokes your face gently. "I didn't want you to think I was being clingy or anything." You still sounded a little sad. Then he suddenly pulls you into an embrace, wrapping you in his arms. "Whenever you need me, you can call me. I'll always be here." Whispering he reassures you. You felt so safe in his arms, you felt at home. His sincere words that made your heart more at peace. "I'm sorry I haven't spent more time with you lately, I just want you to know that you will never be a burden to me." You lifted your face and looked at him, your eyes watering that were an obstacle for you to hold back the tears. He felt so bad seeing you like this, because he felt incredibly guilty about it. And he wanted to somehow make sure that you didn't feel that way, so he gently pulled you into a kiss, calm and passionate, in the middle of which he said, "I will never do that again." "I love you Xiao." You whisper. "I love you more." With a slight tinge of pink on his cheek he returns your words, not taking long to tuck you back into his arms. From now on you can be sure he would be much more attentive to you.

Kazuha:

"The food is on the table, my love." Kazuha tells you that he has already finished making dinner. You silently go to meet him, who was waiting for you to eat. And as usual you always sat next to him, but this time you were a bit distant, which made him feel a little strange. "What happened?" You lifted your face and could see his frown. "Nothing, why do you ask?" It's not as if you didn't know what he was talking about, but you also had a certain weight on your conscience. "Are you upset about something?" The confused little eyes that scanned your entire face. You sighed and denied it with your head, returning your attention to your food. Then you could hear some footsteps, soon it was Kazuha who sat down beside you. "I can sense that you are not well." His hand reached over to yours, interlacing his fingers with yours. You gave a tired smile, but that wouldn't be enough to fool him. "Have you become tired of me?" With your head down, your voice embarrassed, you murmured to him. You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye. "What makes you think that?" He was filled with worry, his eyes wide at your sudden question, he already thought he had done something wrong, and even though he didn't know what it was, he felt bad that he had hurt you in some way. "You're always going out, we hardly spend any time together anymore." And you glance at him quickly, looking away soon after. He gently lifts your hand and kisses it, in a gesture of affection, "I do apologize, I didn't imagine you would feel this way." You look at him, he caresses your cheeks his hand was still entwined with yours. "Whenever something like this bothers you, you can tell me, you know, don't you?" He was all careful with every word he said. He always knew you were afraid of sounding clingy, but he always encouraged you to be yourself. "I love you." The blush that was already evident on your cheeks, even though you had already said it a thousand and one times to him, saying it always made you blush. A wide smile formed on his face, as if it were the first time he had heard the sweet words you had just said. "I love you very much too, my love." The velvety voice that made your heart melt. Well you can prepare to be spoiled from now on, Kazuha would make sure that you would no longer feel left out.

Scaramouche/Wanderer:

You and Wanderer were walking along quietly, but today things were quieter than usual. Normally he talked to you a lot, especially when you had not seen each other for a while. But this time it was silent, you could only hear the ambient sounds, not a word came out of his mouth. And you were feeling uncomfortable, even a little guilty, because you had insisted that he go out with you, and maybe he was upset about it. However, all you wanted was a little time with him, he had drifted away from you lately, and you couldn't help but think that he had had enough of you. "We should go home, it's getting dark already." You affirm, in fact it was more of a pretext to end the incovinient situation. "No, we're already here, so we'll stay." He sounded so grumpy that you didn't even want to insist. You nodded, and kept walking. During the walk you could tell he occasionally looked at you, then looked away. And because you weren't paying attention, you tripped over a rock on the way, and would have fallen had Wanderer not been quick enough. "You are so clumsy, pay more attention." As if to complain to you he says. With watery eyes you look up at him, and simply blurt out the following phrase, "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a problem." His expression changed, as if you had said the worst thing in the world. "Shut up." Despite the harsh words, he wasn't angry. "W-what?" you mumbled, overwhelmed with confusion. "Never say that again, ever." He was serious, his eyes scanning you to make sure you hadn't scratched yourself or something. "Don't look at me like that." Again he spoke, this time sounding somehow hurt. He lifted your chin, making you look directly at him, "You mean a lot to me, so don't repeat those stupid words." And then you understood, he was afraid that he had done something against you, something that would somehow hurt you. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you back. You didn't need to say much, that hug could already explain all the feelings that were there. He didn't need to tell you that he loved you, no matter how many times he said it, just the way he held you so close while his heart beat fast was more than enough.

Venti:

It was late afternoon, and you were waiting for your boyfriend Venti. As usual, he was at the tavern with some friends, he had even invited you to go with him, but you felt like you were left behind whenever he was with his friends. A few hours passed, and Venti didn't give any sign, you were beginning to think that he had forgotten that you two had arranged to meet. A few minutes later, already tired of waiting, you get up to leave. "I'm here, you wouldn't keep me waiting, would you?" That joking tone you already recognized. And then you felt an arm on your shoulder, as if it was leaning on you. "You were late, I thought you were staying with your friends." A little annoyed you say. "I lost track of time just a little bit." He says as he pinches your cheeks. "It's okay, I just didn't want to be boring to you, it's okay if you want to be with your friends." And without even warning he pulled you in for a kiss. In the middle of everyone, without even caring about anything. His hands gripped you tightly around the waist. Once you managed to let out a murmur, he shut you up again by pressing his lips against yours. "You'll never be boring to me." He whispers as he presses his nose against yours. You crack a shy little smile, along with the apparent blush on your cheeks. "I'm going to take you somewhere amazing." With that mischievous smile on his lips he pulls you by the hand, taking you to who knows where. You trusted him completely, and knew he wouldn't let you down, the night would be filled with songs and poems that would be more than memorable.

Heizou:

You were in Heizou's office, helping him as you always did. But you accidentally knocked over some of his belongings, you were incredibly airy that day. "My Goddess, you are inattentive today." With a chuckle he murmurs, helping you to pick up the things that fell on the floor. "Sorry, it won't happen again." "Oh no, don't worry. You don't need all that formality." The mischievous smile couldn't hide his curiosity, your thoughts were a bit unfocused, you couldn't focus on anything. As a great detective, this would not go unnoticed by Heizou's attentive eyes. "So, what's causing you to be so distracted today?" Propping himself up on his elbows with a sympathetic smile on his face he asks you calmly. "Nothing, just an oversight." You say as you look at the things that had fallen to see if you hadn't broken anything. "Mhmm, let me guess, is there a case that's been keeping you up at night?" Now you can be sure that he would act like the detective he was, he would ask questions until he found out. You gave a weak smile and denied it with your head. "So what would make my sweetie so head over heels?" He pulls you around by the waist and presses his body against yours in an affectionate way. "You'll think I'm a fool if I tell you." You lower your head, hiding your face in his chest. "I promise I won't, now tell me." He draws circles on your back with his fingers. "Do you find me boring?" You felt so embarrassed by the question, afraid you might sound too paranoid. You heard a small giggle, not malicious, but it sounded as if you had simply made a joke. "You're far from annoying, where did you get that from?" This time he gently lifted your face, seeing your embarrassed expression. "These days you've barely spoken to me, I thought I was annoying enough to make you bored." You whisper softly, so only he could hear. He kisses your forehead, quickly enveloping you in a hug. "I'm sorry, I've had a lot of work lately. Don't ever think that you're bad for me, because you're not." The sweet words that were like music to you. "I love you, you're the most endearing person I've ever met." Nuzzling you further in his arms he whispered. Like the good detective he was, this would not be repeated, he would examine each of your expressions so he would know how you were feeling, and he would do his best to spend more time with you.

[inkspiredwriting]

Timeless Connection

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was ten years old when he first met Y/N. It was a sunny afternoon, and he had sneaked out of the Academy grounds, seeking a moment of solace away from his demanding family and rigorous training. He found himself at a small, secluded park where he spotted a girl about his age sitting alone on a swing.

"Hi," Five said, approaching her with a curious expression. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

The girl looked up, startled, but then smiled. "I like the quiet. It's my thinking spot. I'm Y/N."

"Five," he replied, taking the swing next to her. "Five Hargreeves."

"Five?" Y/N giggled. "That's a strange name."

"It's a long story," Five said, shrugging. "Why are you here alone?"

"My parents are always busy," Y/N explained, kicking her feet to start swinging gently. "I come here to read and think."

They spent the afternoon talking, sharing stories and dreams. Five felt an unusual sense of peace around Y/N, a feeling he hadn't experienced in the chaotic world of the Umbrella Academy. But as the sun began to set, Five knew he had to return.

"I have to go," he said reluctantly. "But maybe I'll see you around?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling. "I'd like that."

Years passed, and the memory of that day remained a bright spot in Five's mind. After getting stuck in the apocalypse and spending decades alone, he finally reunited with his family and averted the end of the world. Life slowly returned to a semblance of normalcy, but that childhood encounter with Y/N stayed with him.

One day, as he strolled through the city, Five felt a pull toward the same park where he had met Y/N all those years ago. Curiosity and nostalgia guided his steps, and soon he found himself standing near the old swings.

"Five?" a voice called out, filled with a mix of disbelief and recognition.

He turned, and there she was—Y/N. She was no longer the little girl he remembered but a grown woman, her eyes still holding that same sparkle.

"Y/N," Five breathed, his heart pounding with a strange mix of joy and nerves.

Y/N walked closer, her eyes studying his face. "It's really you, isn't it? Five Hargreeves."

Five nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's me. I never forgot that day."

Y/N smiled, a soft laugh escaping her. "I never did either. I always wondered what happened to you."

"It's a long story," Five said, echoing his childhood words. "But I'm here now."

They sat on the swings, just like they had as kids, and talked. Five shared his incredible journey through time, and Y/N listened, her eyes wide with amazement and empathy. They laughed about their childhood dreams and marveled at how fate had brought them back together.

As the sun began to set, Five looked at Y/N, his heart full. "I never thought I'd see you again. But here you are."

"Here I am," Y/N echoed, reaching out to take his hand. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Five squeezed her hand, feeling a profound sense of peace. They had been separated by time and fate, but now, they had a chance to build a future together.

As they walked away from the park, hand in hand, Five felt a sense of completeness. He had faced apocalypses and time travel, but finding Y/N again felt like his greatest victory. They were no longer the children they once were, but their connection had stood the test of time. And now, they had a lifetime to explore it.

[karabin4ik]

AU where Jeeves and Bertie have known each other since childhood. First meeting at a boarding school for boys, where Bertie studies and Reggie works. (They are about the same age)

(I wrote everything through a translator, so forgive me if there is strange text in some places)

While all the students are running away for lunch, Jeeves slips into the empty courtyard with a little book. And so, approaching a spreading tree that is popular with some groups of boys, he notices a curly-haired young man hanging upside down.

The suspended boy clung to the ropes and his bound legs, and his face was red from the blood rushing to his head. He didn’t call for help, he just groaned and cursed in words that were understandable to a boarding school student at that time.

Reggie didn't deliberately try to walk silently, but it just so happened that the curly-haired boy didn't notice him until the very moment Jeeves stood two steps away from the bound one. Only fragments of phrases, for unknown reasons, including “holy ducklings” reached the ears, until the student finally noticed him.

In the seconds during which he focused his gaze behind Jeeves, the boy’s face brightened and became radiantly sunny.

- Hey fellow! - the boy exclaimed cheerfully, not forgetting to wave his hand casually.

Jeeves still watched silently, for the sake of decency he only closed the book. Raising his head, he began to examine the ropes that tied the boy’s legs.

- How are you doing? why aren't you at lunch? - the curly haired boy did not let up. Meanwhile, his face became even more bloodshot, which looked extremely unhealthy. - I haven't seen you among the classes before, you know!

Having walked around him in a circle, during which the student tried to follow Reggie with his gaze, he raised an eyebrow questioningly:

- Do you need help? - He asked.

The boy's face took on the appearance of a disoriented hare for a second, after which he looked up at his bound limbs for a few seconds. After that, he made an overly serene sound like "Hah" with a slight wave of his hand.

- Oh, are you talking about this? Well, it's not that I really need help, I'm just... hanging my jaw, you know. Useful stretching, otherwise I missed my morning exercises. - He smiled, but it was clear that this was becoming more and more difficult for him.

Jeeves looked incredulously from the acquaintance's ankles tied to the branch to his face, which was beginning to merge with his reddish curls. It seems he heard somewhere about red bats...what were they called...? And this bat, meanwhile, told that he was studying here, like his friends, who, by an incredibly funny coincidence, became the organizers of his upside-down pastime.

- Ducklings! Sorry, we don’t even know each other! - He shook off his hands and extended his palm to his interlocutor (if you can call a person who uttered just one phrase an interlocutor) - My name is Bertie!

Reggie glanced at his hand, then turned around to put the book aside. Then he returned the handshake in the same way, nevertheless looking somewhere upward:

- Reginald Jeeves. I work here, so you haven't seen me in classes.

Bertie had already stopped shaking his hand, but his new acquaintance still did not let go. Wooster looked a little nervously into the blue eyes opposite him and coughed awkwardly.

- Ummm heey buddy, nice to meet you and all that... Could you...

Reginald raised his eyebrows slightly, but his face did not look arrogant, rather as if he suddenly saw a large dragonfly on Bertie’s nose.

- Excuse me, but how long have you been hanging here?

Bertie made a thoughtful face, at the same moment he never stopped trying to unobtrusively stick his hand out of Reggie's hand. The whole thing swayed slightly from side to side, reminiscent of a metronome from a music cabinet.

- I don’t know, it must have been since my comrades ran away to fill their bellies. Add a couple more minutes that we laughed together and I tried to pull myself up for an argument... in general, about 10 minutes I think

Jeeves shook his head in displeasure. Bertie didn’t even have time to begin to be indignant when he, grabbing Wooster’s hand tightly, pulled himself up on his toes and pulled the ends of the ropes a couple of times. Those (ropes) quickly began to chatter and immediately unraveled, causing Bertie to fall down. If it weren’t for the clutch obligingly clinging to him, Wooster would definitely have kissed the ground in a completely unknightly manner.

- Whoa! - Bertie grabbed the clothes of his liberator with a breath - T-thank you very much, buddy! It’s a pity, of course, to interrupt the training, you know, but I don’t think I’ve thought through the landing at all... You’re really my savior.

Reginald let go of his hand, but not so quickly that Bertie immediately fell. His new acquaintance laughed a little more in between jumping on one leg or the other, trying to get out of the ropes. Having picked up the book, Jeeves turned around so that he could now see Bertie from a normal perspective. A curly-haired, smiling boy with big blue eyes radiated some kind of inexpressible summer lightness and perkiness. Judging by his stories, he has friends, so why did they leave him in such limbo? Apparently, something related to gambling.

- No need for gratitude, just be careful: staying upside down for a long time can be very dangerous.

Throwing away the last curl of the vine that bound him, Bertie straightened up and clumsily placed his hands on his hips. He was still a little unsteady, but stood firmly on his feet. He didn’t even shake himself off after the fall, so dust and grass remained on his trouser legs. Jeeves grimaced for a second when he looked at this, but he could not fully understand what was the matter. Looking at Reggie, Bertram gradually smiled more and more until he finally laughed. Jeeves also involuntarily broke into a smile.

- Hahaha! Listen, ammm.. Jeeves, would you like...

But then Bertie was interrupted by the sonorous voice of a boy from the side of the building. With black, styled hair and glasses with large eyepieces, he ran towards them waving one hand and holding a small purse slung over his shoulder with the other. An elderly woman in a strict dark dress walked quickly and briskly behind him. With this motley duet, the Bertie recognized his classmate Gussie and his teacher Miss A. It seems that he finally called for help, due to Bertie’s long absence.

- Bertie, Bertie! We're on our way! Sorry it took so long, I hid the tadpoles from Cheese, he would definitely try to throw them away, he always leaves the dining room before me to do this!

Miss A, meanwhile, did not lag behind, and her voice sounded even louder, spreading throughout the yard:

- Wooster! What have you done again, scoundrel? Why not at lunch, do you want to go without food for the coming day?

Bertie quickly turned to his new acquaintance, flashing a nervous smile to apologize for the inconvenience. However, neither behind nor in the area was there a single living soul, which is why the smile quickly faded, giving way to confusion. As if there was no blue-eyed silent savior. Honestly! Bertie checked behind the tree, looked around and even under his own sole!

Then Gussie ran up to him, clinging to his sleeve with his hand:

- Bertie, are you okay? You fell?

The teacher also walked under the shade of a tree, towering heavily over the boys and displeasedly looking around at the tree wrapped in ropes and the soiled clothes of the culprit of the rescue operation.

- Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, please tell me where you got the rope and why you made this display, including your inappropriate appearance?

Bertie stood for a while and looked at the place where he had recently been suspended like some caterpillar that at some point in its life realized that it wanted to learn to fly.

And then he turned to the teacher and absentmindedly began to explain how he wanted to weave a hammock by stealing ropes from the boarding house barn, simultaneously giving signs to Gussie to keep quiet about their friends.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Wonderful child

Platonic!Yandere!Muzan x Child!Fem! Reader

You were a wonderful child not only in the opinion of your own mother, but also in the opinion of your new father, whom you and your sister unconditionally accepted. But to tell the truth, first time your new father bothered you. He may not have done anything wrong, but you were a child with an incredibly developed sense of empathy and you felt every change in his mood better than your mother and sister.

That's probably why Muzan thought you were a wonderful child. You never bothered him and when it was necessary, you left and even more, you took your younger sister away when he was not in the best mood, which made it easier him to stay here.

That night, you saw how annoyed he was after meeting with a strange boy, so when you and your mom and sister said goodbye to him, he was leaving for some business meeting. You, unlike your sister and mom, didn't hug or kiss him, just wished him to come back soon and waved.

"Y/n, I don't think you get along very well with Muzan."

You looked surprised at your mom, who was talking to you.

"You hardly talk to him, I understand that you miss your real father, but..."

"No, I get along well with Muzan. He doesn't even mind anymore if I'm in the same room with him when he's busy."

"Was he against being in the same room with you? I mean, you're a calm girl and don't bother..."

"He didn't kick me out, it's just that my presence, at first, often annoyed him, and now he doesn't mind."

You smiled at your mom, calming her nerves, and your little sister repeated after you, your mom giggled. You really were a wonderful child.

However, a good streak cannot last forever and one day it really ended. Now you were lying in bed in terrible suffering. Muzan still hasn't returned, but his money was enough to delay the progress of your illness. The problem was that neither you not your mom had the strength. You couldn't fight with illness anymore, and your mom couldn't watching you cry and moan in pain, couldn't watching your medical analysis get worse and worse every day. Your mother couldn't contact her husband, and therefore she had to make this important decision on her own.

Muzan came back at night and he was furious when he heard that he had an hour to say goodbye to you when your heart stopped completely. Not caring about the force, he pushed your mother away.

Why can't this useless woman even take care of her own child?!

When he entered your room, he discovered your unconscious figure. You were lying on the bed and looked very much like a dead, but the demon still heard your weak heart. With his claw, he sharply scratched your cheek, giving a small amount of his blood.

At that moment, your sweet dream ended, you thought that the disease was terribly painful, but it was worse, much worse. Your whole body was bending in the opposite direction, you even heard the crunch of your own bones, but all this faded against the background of your cheek, it burned with hellish pain, and the skin near the wound seemed to melt.

Your little sister ran into your room after hearing the screams. And froze in horror. Muzan sat on your bed and held you in his arms while you squirmed and screamed. The father was calm, while you beat him with your head in agony, while he held your legs and arms. The girl immediately covered her eyes with her hands and wanted to run away, but the demon stopped her.

"Come here. Don't you want to help your sister?"

She wanted to help you, she has to help you, so she listens him and approaches you. You began to shake less, but blood poured out of your mouth.

"Dad, what can I..."

Abruptly Muzan grabs her by the head and begins to squeeze.

"Y/n will be very hungry when she becomes a demon and you will help her with that."