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midday-clouds · 3 days

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Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at), Blood, "Death"

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state.

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers.

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam.

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case.

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are you still alive? You were shot and haven't had food for days. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free.

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it.

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured.

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone.

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #platonic yandere #neglected reader #yandere dc

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onlyhereforthestories · 24 hours

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Worth It? Or Not? (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi guys! It's been too long. Please enjoy this long ramble that slightly resembles writing 😂. I have a few more things written and I am trying to finish Chica for you all. Happy weekend.

It was a new season, and you were so ready for what it was going to throw at you. The last season you participated in had been your best yet you think, although that was most likely due to the fact that it was your first with your girlfriend. You and Alexia had been dancing around your feeling for each other for a few years and in the off-season last year the older woman had finally asked you out. By the time the season just gone had started you were already official, and it had made last year that much more special. You got to share your achievements with the one you loved and that really was wonderful.

Now for a new season and possibly a new step for your relationship with Alexia, she had been hinting at moving in together for the last few weeks. Little off hand comments like “That would look nice in a master bedroom.” And “I wonder if we would have a feature wall if we had our own living space.” You thought it was about time you started hinting back. You needed to be sure it was something she actually wanted before you out right asked her if she was ready to move in together.

You were currently waiting for Aitana to pick you up, Alexia had to be in earlier than everyone else this morning for a meeting and so you had slept separately, at your own apartments last night. This was the first time in weeks that you could remember not sharing a bed with the older woman. She said she didn’t want to wake you as early as she needed to be up and after trying to argue with her for 10 minutes you had given up, she just wasn’t getting that you would happily wake up early if it meant spending the extra time with her.

“So why do I have to come get your whipped ass? Where’s the wifey?” You rolled your eyes at the woman as you climbed into the passenger seat of her car. Aitana had been one of the first people you had talked to about your crush on Alexia and now the slightly younger woman took every opportunity she could to tease you about your obvious love for the team captain.

“I’m telling her you called her that, but in answer to your poorly asked question, she had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake me up at the early time she had to be up.” You shrugged your shoulders in a gesture you knew was for your benefit not hers, you had been up half the night letting your anxiety get the best of you.

“It’s Alexia, you know her, she is probably just nervous for the new season and how the new signings will fit in.” You knew that Aitana was most likely right but you also couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that she was already getting bored of being with you. You knew you shouldn’t let these thoughts get the better of you but that was easier to say than actually do, it wasn’t that you doubted Alexia at all, it was more your growing anxiety over your own worth in your head. In fact you knew it was you and your head and that just made it even more frustrating, it was another thing that made you question yourself.

“Yeah, you are probably right, she has been feeling the captain pressure a lot over the last week or so. She has been watching tapes of the new girls and talking a lot with the staff after weights. Sometimes I wish she would just switch off from work and be a little more present with me, but she’s Alexia queen of Barca. She puts 110% into this club and that’s what I signed up for happily.”

After that the conversation switched to a lighter topic and by the time you pulled up at the training ground you were feeling a lot lighter and laughing with one of your best friends. Any thoughts of Alexia not wanting you any more were long gone and all you wanted to do now was get your cleats on. Football would always be a great escape for you, it was like your mind could relax whilst you had a ball at your feet.

After getting ready in the changing room, without the appearance of your love, you headed out with the rest of the girls to find Alexia in the middle of the field with another woman you didn’t recognise. Your attention was pulled from them when Pere spoke, “Okay ladies, we have a new signing starting with us today. Alexia has been getting to know her a little bit so it’s easier for her to settle in. Please be welcoming.” You all nodded your heads in agreement and followed him over to the two women.

“Hi it’s nice to meet you all, I’m Chloe.” You could tell the woman was nervous and so could Alexia as she moved everyone onto warm-ups rather quickly. Over the course of the session everyone introduced themselves to the new girl individually so that she felt as comfortable as possible.

You had just got out of the shower and was putting the last items in your bag when Alexia approached you for the first time today. “Hola, can I ask you for a favour por favor?” You could tell she was sort of in a hurry by the lack of affection she gave you. You would normally at least get a peck to the cheek, but she barely even got close enough to you for you to hear her properly.

“Si of course.” You would do anything for the woman in front of you and everyone knew it.

“I’m taking Chloe out to see the city so she knows her way around a bit better, but I didn’t get to walk Nala this morning. Can you run round mine and do it for me? I asked Alba but she is working.” There was a lot to pick out of that passage of one-sided conversation. First you were hurt that she had gone to Alba first when Nala was like your own dog too. Second, she must have forgotten your lunch plans with Claudia and Patri that had been made a while back and you knew was on her calendar as you put it there. Something you decided not to bring up, she was just trying to help the new girl settle in you understood that.

“Yes of course. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You thought at least you could have some time with her that evening being as you’ve barely interacted all day.

“I won’t be back for dinner, I told Chloe I would help her sort her apartment out after showing her the sights. I don’t know what time I’ll be back y/n so maybe we should sleep in our own apartments again tonight.” You really didn’t know what to say to this, so you just nodded. You got a lot of the women’s time, so you didn’t think it was fair for you to be upset over a couple days, especially not when she was just trying to help someone out.

“Okay, I’ll see you at training tomorrow then.” You turned round and walked out of training with a slight weight on your chest and your mind running with thoughts you wish you didn’t have.

After you walked Nala and dropped her back into Alexia’s apartment, an apartment that started to feel like your own until the last 24 hours. Part of you knew this was silly to think but you couldn’t help it, you are always an overthinker and this was something that you struggled with. You didn’t even take the time to make sure Nala was settled you just open the door let her in, checked her water bowl was full and left again. Being there just felt wrong today. Deciding that your mood was really not good enough to go out and have a lunch with your two friends you texted Patri to cancel, and after assuring her you were okay just a little extra tired today, she wished you a good evening and said she would pick you up for training if you needed the next morning.

An offer you ended up taking when your texts to Alexia the next morning went unanswered. You were tired and starting to get a little annoyed with the older woman, you were trying to reason as to why she wasn’t replying to your texts and even when she did it was so spaced out it felt like she didn’t care or want to talk to you. You were trying to change that thought process, but it was hard when that’s where your mind had gone.

“Hola, you don’t look so good. Should you be coming to training.” Patri’s concerned voice almost sent you into a wave of sobs, but you held it together, your thoughts were stupid so you know you couldn’t show you were sad. You didn’t want Patri to think you were an idiot for the way you were feeling about your current situation, if it was even a situation.

“I’m just tired Pats, I’ve not slept well the last few nights and I think its just caught up to me a bit today.” You sighed in relief when she didn’t push you any further just gave you a once over and then pulled away from the outside of your apartment complex.

You were hoping the journey to training would help your mood and thoughts, but it didn’t much. Patri tried her best to cheer you up and you really appreciated the younger woman’s efforts, but you were struggling. You made your way into the changing room behind your best friend and didn’t both to look up as you made your way to your cubby. You placed your stuff down and changed into your boots, leaving the changing room straight after as the first out.

You decided some air and keepy ups might help sort your head out before training. Pere and the staff were out setting up when you went to ask for a ball, they gladly gave you one and you headed to the far end of the field to have your space. The sun beating down on you felt good and a ball at your feet always helped.

Your peace was short lived as you heard the chatter of the rest of the girls and Pere calling you all in. You grabbed your ball and headed over, looking at the group for the first time. What you saw hurt your heart more than you would say to anyone, Alexia was stood near Pere like normal. That obviously wasn’t the upsetting part, the upsetting part was that Chloe was pretty much pressed against Ale. You tried not to look too long or think too much but you struggled. You really struggled.

Training started and your thoughts just kept going. You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t pass right, your touches were off and none of the shots you took even went close to the goal. By the end of the first half of training everyone could tell something wasn’t okay with you, so much so that Pere called you over in the drinks break.

“What’s up today? This is very unlike you. If your sick you should have just let us know I don’t want to see you get injured if you are pushing yourself too much and then end up being out for longer than you need to be. Health is important y/n.” The way he said it wasn’t scolding which you were thankful for, you were slightly worried that he would be annoyed with you for your performance.

“I’m sorry coach. I’m not feeling my best today, I thought I’d be okay to train but I think maybe I was wrong.” You wouldn’t normally miss training unless really necessary, but you were too far gone mentally and staying here wasn’t what you needed right now.

“That’s okay some days we just need the break and to rest. Go home and we will see you hopefully tomorrow. Please pop and see the medical staff on the way out to check in with them.” With that he patted your shoulder and went back to call the team back to training.

As you walked past the group Patri caught your eye and gave you the are you okay look. You waved her off with a half-smile and continued to the changing rooms. You decided that a shower at home would be the best for you and so just changed your shoes, grabbed your stuff and headed to the medical room.

They just did some basic checks on your temperature and blood pressure before sending you off with the promise to come in first thing tomorrow if you were planning on training just to have another check before you did.

You half expected Alexia to be waiting for you outside the medical room when you walked out but she wasn’t. You walked out of the grounds to remember that you got a lift, you were just about to walk home when your name was called. For a second your body warmed thinking it was who you really wanted it to be before your shoulders slump slightly. You knew that was Patri.

“I’ll drive you home come on.” You didn’t argue you just hopped in the passenger seat. You were quiet the whole way back to your place, the only words you said to the younger woman was thank you when you got out the car.

You took your shower turning the water to as hot as you could handle. Going for comfort after that you changed into your (Alexias) comfiest hoodie and a pair of tracksuits that you really weren’t sure whose they were. You settled yourself onto your sofa and turned on a random old show you didn’t need to concentrate on.

You have no idea when you fell asleep, but you must have at some point because you were blinking yourself awake in the now pitch blackness of your living space. The only light you had was coming from your phone on the table that you now realised was ringing and must have been the reason you were currently waking up.

You reached over to grab it off the table to see who it was, glancing at the screen you were faced with your favourite photo you had ever taken. Ale had this smile that reached her eyes as she stared at you through the camera, it was taken last month when you were on vacation before the season was due to start.

You were stuck in a sort of daze so you didn’t answer the call, after it rang off you were faced with 5 miss calls from the woman. You noticed the time, you had missed lunch and dinner. You almost missed bedtime if you were being truthful to yourself, so you got up off the sofa and turned the tv off. You grabbed your phone again and headed to your bathroom to clean your teeth and get into your pjs. Once in bed you called Alexia back, who picked up after a couple rings.

“Y/n where did you go? Why did you miss training?” Her words were rushed as soon as she answered, which you felt a little bad about as she had been trying to get hold of you for a while now.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before answering Alexia’s question. You could hear the concern in her voice, which only made your heart ache more. It wasn’t anger or frustration—it was genuine worry. And yet, the events of the past couple of days had left you feeling vulnerable and disconnected.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you started quietly, not wanting your voice to crack. “Pere told me to go home, and I guess I just needed some time to rest. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls before I fell asleep on the sofa.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could hear Alexia shifting slightly, probably trying to figure out the right words. She was good at taking a moment to make sure she said the correct thing, that she said everything she wanted and in a way that would be understood for what it was.

“I would’ve come with you if I knew,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Or at least text me when you got home?”

“I did try to talk to you,” you replied, a bit sharper than you intended. You quickly softened your tone before continuing. “I was going to tell you before I left the training grounds but when I went to go over, I saw you were in a conversation with Chloe and I didn’t want to interrupt. I know what making her feel welcome into the team means to you so I just left, Patri dropped me home.”

Alexia was silent again, and you hated that your mind immediately went back to the image of Chloe standing so close to her earlier. You knew it was unreasonable to feel threatened, but the distance you’d been feeling from Alexia over the last couple of days was making everything worse. You knew Alexia and you knew that if she was even thinking about someone else in the way she thought about you, she would end things. It was a conversation the both of you had had very early in the relationship, it was better to say and end things than cause more heartache with something like cheating.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I’ve been caught up with the new signings, especially Chloe. I wanted to help her settle in, but I didn’t realize I was neglecting you in the process.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as you listened to her. The fact that she acknowledged it made you feel a bit better, but it didn’t completely erase the weight that had been sitting on your chest. It still has happened.

“I get it, Ale. You’re the captain, and you’ve got responsibilities, but…” You trailed off, not sure how to express what you were feeling without coming across as needy or insecure.

“But what?” she asked gently, encouraging you to keep going.

“I just… I don’t know. It feels like we haven’t really been us these past few days. Like we’re slipping apart, and I don’t want that.”

Alexia sighed softly, and you could almost picture her rubbing the back of her neck the way she always did when she was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t want that either,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry, really. I’ve been so focused on the new season and everything happening with the team that I haven’t been present with you. That’s not fair.”

Tears stung your eyes at her words. You hated that you had been feeling so anxious and unsure about where you stood with her. The logical part of your brain knew that Alexia loved you deeply, but sometimes, your emotions got the better of you.

“I just miss you,” you whispered, finally letting a bit of the hurt spill out.

“I miss you too,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “I promise, when I get back, we’ll spend some real time together. Just the two of us.”

You wanted to believe her, to hold onto the comfort her words should have brought you, but as you lay there, phone pressed to your ear, something still felt off. The doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day didn’t vanish—they just simmered beneath the surface, waiting for another moment to creep back in. You tried to smile, to let her words sink in, but it felt hollow.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice weaker than you intended. There was a pause on the line, and for a second, you wondered if she could hear the uncertainty that was sitting heavy on your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I love you,” Alexia said, her tone soft but distant, and somehow it made you feel even worse.

“I love you too, Ale,” you replied automatically, though the words felt like they got caught in your throat. You wanted to believe them, wanted to believe her. But as you hung up the phone, the heavy silence in your room returned, and with it, the creeping feeling that maybe things weren’t as solid as you hoped.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tighter around you, but instead of the calm you craved, a lingering unease settled deep in your chest. The conversation hadn’t been enough to ease your mind, and the distance between you two felt more real than ever. Alexia cared, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the doubts from pulling you under.

As much as you tried to push it aside, the little voice in your head that had been whispering insecurities all day grew louder. What if she’s getting tired of me? What if this distance between us is because she doesn’t want to be with me anymore? The more you thought about it, the more it felt like Alexia was slipping away, even though she’d just promised to spend more time with you. The doubts began to swirl again, faster now, and the pit in your stomach deepened.

Sure, Alexia had apologized, but what if it wasn’t just about her being busy with the new signings? What if she was using that as an excuse? You started picking apart every little detail from the past few days—how she barely interacted with you this morning, how she chose to spend time with Chloe instead of you, how easily she’d forgotten your plans for lunch with Patri and Claudia. Maybe she wasn’t as invested in the relationship anymore. Maybe she was realizing that being with you wasn’t what she wanted.

You buried your face in your pillow, fighting the creeping sense of rejection. No, this is just the anxiety talking. She loves you. She said she loves you, you reminded yourself, but it felt like a hollow reassurance. Even as you repeated it, the lingering doubt wouldn’t leave you. You wanted so badly to believe her words, to take them at face value, but the overthinking was louder than reason right now.

The phone in your hand vibrated again, pulling you out of your spiral for a moment. Alexia had sent you a text: I really don’t like how we left things. Can I come over? I’ll bring dinner. We can talk.

Your heart skipped at the message. On one hand, you wanted her here. You wanted her arms around you, her presence to quiet the storm in your mind. But on the other hand, you felt like having her here would only make your insecurities worse. What if she could see right through you? What if she could tell that you weren’t okay, that you doubted her? What if she was already tired of dealing with your anxieties, your overthinking?

Before you could stop yourself, you typed back: I think it’s better if I stay alone tonight. I might be getting sick, and I don’t want to give you anything. You’ve got enough on your plate with the new season and all.

You stared at the message, second-guessing every word. It wasn’t entirely a lie—you did feel off, emotionally and physically, but that wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want her to come over. You were scared. Scared that spending time with her would only confirm the worst of your fears. That she was growing tired of you, tired of your relationship.

After a few moments, your phone buzzed again with Alexia’s response: Are you sure? I can bring soup or tea, whatever you need. I don’t mind at all.

Her willingness to drop everything and come over only made you feel worse. How could you doubt someone who was so thoughtful, so caring? But the voice in your head persisted—what if she was just doing this out of obligation? What if she felt guilty? It wasn’t long before you convinced yourself that Alexia was only offering out of a sense of duty, not because she actually wanted to be with you tonight.

Yeah, I’m sure. You replied, forcing yourself to hit send before you could change your mind. I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.

You stared at your phone, waiting for her response, hoping she would fight harder to come over, hoping she would insist. But her next message came quickly, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Okay, rest up. Let me know if you need anything, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow at training.

Simple. Kind. But it wasn’t the push you had been hoping for. She wasn’t coming over. Maybe she was relieved, you thought bitterly. Maybe she didn’t actually want to spend time with you after all. You hated that your mind kept going there, but the doubts kept clawing at you, relentless and cruel.

Curling up tighter in your bed, you told yourself that some space was good. Maybe tomorrow would be better, maybe by then, you’d feel less overwhelmed, and Alexia would feel closer again. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the weight of your insecurities was heavier than ever. You didn’t want to lose her, but right now, it felt like that’s exactly what was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you need anything. I love you. Get some good sleep, okay?

You read the message over and over, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Alexia wasn’t pushing you to talk when you didn’t feel ready. Disappointment, because a part of you had hoped she would sense your need for more; more reassurance, more connection, more confirmation that everything between you two was still okay. But she didn’t press further, and that left you with an emptiness that was hard to shake. Part of you knew that was silly, she had texted after your call and that should have helped but it just left you with a half full feeling. Like you were only worth that small extra effort.

As you lay there, your mind kept spiralling. You wanted to believe that this was just a rough patch, a phase, something that would pass after the season got into full swing. But the fear that something had shifted between you and Alexia lingered. You tried to push it away, to focus on the fact that she had said she loved you, that she was willing to drop everything for you. But the overthinking kept creeping back, whispering that maybe this was the beginning of the end.

You closed your eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around you, willing yourself to sleep. But even as exhaustion tugged at your body, your mind wouldn’t let go of the nagging doubts. You kept replaying the last few days in your head, every moment where Alexia had seemed distant, every conversation that had felt stilted or rushed. You hated how insecure it made you feel, but you couldn’t help it.

Alexia sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. She wants to call you, wants to check in, but hesitates. There’s a lump in her throat, a weight in her chest that won’t shift. You’d asked her for space, asked her not to hover, and she’s been trying, really trying, to respect that. But it’s hard. It’s so damn hard. It feels wrong to stay away, especially when she knows you’re not feeling well.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. She’s been distant lately and she understands that she’s not been around as much as she should have. Training, media obligations, new signings, everything’s been pulling her in different directions, and now, when you need her the most, she’s afraid she’s failing you. Alexia’s not used to feeling this way, like she’s not enough. But here she is, second-guessing everything and wondering why she let it get to this point.

What if you don’t even want her around anymore?

The thought hits her harder than she expects, and she feels a pang of guilt. You deserve someone better, someone who can be there, be present, and she’s been anything but lately. And now, with you sick, the fear creeps in even more. She worries that her attempts to give you space that you asked for might just be making things worse, that you might feel abandoned, even if that’s the last thing she ever wanted.

She presses her palms against her knees, trying to calm the whirlwind in her mind. The idea that she might not be enough, that she might not be the perfect girlfriend you deserve, gnaws at her. She’s scared she’s messing this up, that every move she makes might be the wrong one.

What if she’s not what you need right now? What if she’s been too caught up in her own world, too wrapped up in everything else to see what’s really going on with you?

Her phone buzzes, and for a moment, she thinks about texting you. But what would she even say? She feels torn, pulled between wanting to rush to your side and the fear that doing so would push you away.

She exhales sharply, setting the phone down, her hands now trembling slightly. She loves you, that much is very clear to her. But loving you and being there for you the way you deserve; it feels like two different things right now. She’s scared of being inadequate, of not living up to what you need.

In her heart, she wants to be the perfect girlfriend for you, the one who knows how to navigate all this with ease. Wants to know what you need without you having to say, wants to show you that there isn’t anyone better for you than her. But she’s scared, scared that she’s already failed.

That night, Alexia drives to your place. The streets are quiet, dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp, and the familiar route feels strange tonight, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. Her heart races the closer she gets, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual.

When she finally pulls up outside, she kills the engine but doesn’t move. The silence in the car feels thick, almost oppressive, like it's pressing down on her chest. She knows she should get out, knock on your door, and just be there for you. It’s why she came, after all. But something keeps her glued to the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the dashboard, mind spinning with uncertainty.

What if you don’t want her here?

She takes a deep breath and glances up at your window. The lights are off, maybe you’re already asleep, maybe you’ve had a long day. Her mind starts to drift even further. Maybe she’s too late. But even if you're still awake, there’s that nagging voice in her head that tells her she’s crossing a line, that you’d rather be alone. That she should have done this a few days ago not now, not when you asked her to stay away.

I shouldn’t have come.

She exhales, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. Every part of her wants to be close to you, to show up the way she should have sooner. She even reaches for the door handle, her heart pounding as she tells herself, Just get out, Ale. Just go inside and talk to her. Be there for her.

But her grip on the handle loosens, and she pulls her hand back.

What if showing up makes things worse? What if you’re still upset, still needing space, and all she does by being here is prove that she can’t respect that?

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the doubts away, but they only get louder. She’s scared, scared that you’ll see right through her. Scared that, no matter how hard she tries, she’s already failed you.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushes the door open and steps out of the car. The night air hits her, cool and crisp, and she stands there, staring at your front door. Her feet move her a few steps closer, but then she stops, frozen halfway across the street. To any passerby she would look slightly crazy, standing in the middle of the street, car door open behind her and staring at a closed door. But alexia didn’t care, she couldn’t think about anything else other than you.

She could knock, could tell you everything that’s been going through her head, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s too soon?

Alexia takes a deep breath and steps back, retreating to the safety of her car. She sits there, hands resting on the wheel again, feeling like a coward. But the thought of doing the wrong thing, of making things harder for you, keeps her from getting back out the car.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow I’ll speak to her.

It’s a promise she makes to herself, hoping that maybe, with a little more time, she’ll find the right words.

The next morning, you woke up feeling no better than the night before. If anything, the pit in your stomach had only grown. You glanced at your phone, half-expecting to see a message from Alexia, but there was nothing. No good morning text, no follow-up to check on you. That left a really bitter feeling inside of you, one that you hated feeling for two reasons. One, you knew in your heart she wasn’t trying to make you feel that way, and two because you felt that way.

As you dragged yourself out of bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You tried to convince yourself that Alexia was just busy, that she was giving you space like you asked. But deep down, the doubt gnawed at you. What if the space you asked for was pushing her further away?

You knew you needed to talk to her, to clear the air, but the thought of confronting your feelings made you anxious. What if she confirmed your worst fears? What if she said she wasn’t sure about the relationship anymore? You weren’t sure you could handle that.

Still, as you got ready for training, you decided to talk to her today. No more avoiding the conversation. You needed to know what was happening, you needed to clear things up. Not only for your relationship but for your own mind. There was a small voice at the back of your head telling you that speaking to Alexia about why this has happened might be a good idea, but you ignored that for the moment. That would mean showing those deep insecurities. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

With the decision made, you grabbed your things and headed out the door, hoping that today would bring some clarity and maybe, just maybe, the reassurance you desperately needed.

Stepping out of the building, you're caught off guard. Alexia is there, leaning against her car, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose. She straightens up the moment she spots you, waving casually as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Which a week ago it would have been.

"Hey," she says lightly, her tone casual, maybe a little too casual. Stop reading so much into it y/n.

"Hey," you respond, trying to hide your confusion. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

She shrugs, unlocking the car with a beep. "Thought I’d give you a lift to training. I know Patri picked you up and dropped you home yesterday. I also wanted to check on you properly. How’re you feeling?"

There’s a pause, you are unsure if she’s asking about how you're feeling physically or mentally. "I’m... fine. Maybe a bit tired." Short and sweet, that will do for now.

"Yeah, it’s been a long week," she comments, sliding into the driver’s seat. You follow, buckling in, and the car hums to life as she pulls out onto the road. For a moment, the silence sits between you two, neither of you quite sure how to fill it.

"Traffic’s light today," she notes, glancing briefly at you. "Should get there in no time."

You nod, grateful for the small talk. "Yeah, that’s good."

Another beat of quiet passes.

"Did you see the new kit design?" she asks, her tone light, as if she’s trying to keep the conversation safe.

"Yeah, I did. Looks pretty sharp, though I’m not sure about the neon stripes," you reply, relaxing into the seat a little.

She chuckles softly. "Not a fan?"

You crack a small smile. "Not really my thing. Maybe it’ll grow on me."

The conversation fades again, but this time it feels easier, more comfortable. She’s not pushing, not prying into anything deeper. It feels like both of you are skirting around something bigger, but for now, the surface level is just fine.

Before long, you arrive at the training centre. Alexia leads you inside, where the trainers are waiting. The check-up is routine, some stretches, a few prods here and there and soon, they clear you to train.

"You’re good to go," the head trainer tells you with a nod.

As you step out onto the pitch, Alexia lingers nearby, not hovering, but subtly making sure you’re all right. During the water breaks, she’s quick to hand you a bottle, reminding you to stay hydrated. It's nothing overt, just small gestures that don’t go unnoticed by you.

Training passes, and as you finish up, wiping the sweat from your face and stretching out your tired muscles, you see her approaching again. This time, there’s something different in her expression.

"You did well today," she says with a small, approving smile.

"Thanks," you reply, sensing the shift in the air, the conversation about to take a more serious turn.

She hesitates for a second, then takes a deep breath. "Look... do you want to come back to mine? We need to talk. I think we’re overdue for it."

Her words hang between you both, but the way she says it feels less like a confrontation and more like an invitation. There’s no pressure, no demand, just a simple request.

You meet her gaze, unsure of what this conversation will bring, but knowing it’s inevitable. Whatever is currently going on with you two needs to be addressed and soon. Neither of you enjoying your current situation and definitely not wanting it to continue on this way.

"Yeah," you say, surprising yourself with how quickly the word comes out. "Let’s go."

You hesitate to take the hand Alexia reaches out in front of you, but when she gives you that small smile and slight tilt of her head you can’t help but grab on. You are once again conflicted when she lets go once you are on your feet, but when she awkwardly scratches at her neck as she gestures for you to start walking you can’t help the affection for her that rises in your chest.

The drive to Alexia’s is quiet, not awkward, but there’s a tension that hangs in the air. The radio plays softly in the background, a low hum of noise filling the silence as neither of you speaks much. You glance at her now and then, noticing how her hands grip the wheel just a little too tight, how her jaw seems tense. She’s trying to seem calm, but you know her well enough to see the nerves beneath the surface.

When you arrive at her apartment, Alexia unlocks the door and once again gestures for you to go inside first. You step in, and the familiarity of her space washes over you, a space that’s been shared so many times, but tonight feels different. She lingers by the door for a moment, taking a breath before following you in.

You both sit down on the couch, a little distance between you. Alexia fidgets with her fingers, playing with her rings, clearly trying to gather her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer than usual, almost unsure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she says, her eyes not quite meeting yours. “I wanted to, but... I didn’t know if you’d want me there.”

You sit quietly, listening, waiting for her to continue. You know it is only fair to let her finish without interrupting, your time to speak will come.

“I know I haven’t been... the best lately. I’ve been distant, and I can’t even explain why in a way that makes sense,” she admits, her voice wavering slightly. “And then when you got sick... I wanted to be there for you. I should have been there, but you asked for space, and I didn’t want to make things worse.” You could hear the sadness and longing in her voice as she spoke, it made your heart hurt a little more thinking about how this has negatively affected her as well as you.

She looks down, her fingers twisting together nervously. “But I just kept second-guessing everything. Like, if I showed up, I’d be doing the wrong thing. And maybe... maybe you don’t even want me around anymore.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with uncertainty and vulnerability. She’s never said anything like this before, never doubted herself like this when it came to your relationship. When it came to you.

You feel the weight of her worry, and it’s clear that she’s been wrestling with this more than you realized. Had you not been the best girlfriend either? Had she been worrying about this for more than just the last few days? There’s a long pause before she speaks again.

“I’m scared I’m not the girlfriend you deserve,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m failing you... like I haven’t been there when you needed me most.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and they’re filled with doubt, something you’re not used to seeing in her. Alexia, who’s always so composed, so sure of herself, now looks like she’s bracing for something, maybe rejection, maybe confirmation that her fears are true.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. You know this talk has been coming, but hearing her say it, seeing her so vulnerable, hits you differently. There's a part of you that wants to just reach out and hold her, to tell her it’s all okay, but you know this conversation needs to happen. You know that the both of you need to communicate these feelings and work on how you can do it without it getting to this stage again, if there is going to be again.

“Alexia...” you start, choosing your words carefully, “I never said I didn’t want you around. I asked for space because I needed it, not because I wanted you out of my life.”

She nods slowly, but her expression remains uncertain. You continue, “I’ve been going through a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. It’s just... sometimes I need to figure things out on my own. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Alexia exhales, her shoulders sagging a little in relief, but the tension is still there. “I just... I feel like I haven’t been enough lately. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I haven’t made time for us, for you, and then when you needed me most, I just... froze.”

You shift closer to her, your hand gently resting on hers. “I know you’re busy. I never expected you to be around all the time, Ale. I don’t need you to be. I just need you to be... present. To be you.”

Her eyes soften at your words, and she looks down at your hand that is soft on top of hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice steadier now. “I’ll do better. I want to be better, for you. For us.”

You nod, understanding the weight of what she’s saying. It’s not about perfection, not about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, about trying, even when it’s hard, even when doubts creep in.

“I just need us to be open with each other,” you say. “If you’re feeling off or distant, tell me. If you’re unsure about something, we’ll figure it out together. But don’t shut me out, and don’t shut yourself down thinking you’re not enough. And I’ll do better too. I have had so many insecure thoughts over the last few days and I’m sorry for those. I’m sorry that you get affected by them and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you about them. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You take a second to think about what you want to say next. Alexia’s eyes stay locked on yours, her expression softening even more as she listens. Her hand tightens just slightly around yours, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what you’re both sharing. The tension between you eases further, but the conversation isn’t over yet.

You take a breath, choosing your next words carefully, wanting to make sure she understands where you're coming from.

“I’ve been in my head a lot,” you admit, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I thought that maybe you weren’t showing up because I wasn’t... worth it. That you were pulling away because I’ve been too much to handle. And instead of talking to you about how I was feeling, I just let it build up. I guess I was scared that saying it out loud would make it real.”

Alexia’s brow furrows as she shakes her head gently. “You’re never too much,” she says quietly, her thumb still brushing softly over your hand. “I never want you to feel that way. I hate that you’ve been carrying that, and I didn’t know. That I couldn’t help.”

You nod, grateful for her words but also aware of how important it is to keep the lines of communication open moving forward. “I know you care, I do. I just... I need to trust that more. And I need to talk to you when I’m struggling, not shut you out. I’m sorry for that.”

Alexia leans in closer, her voice filled with sincerity. “We’ll both do better. We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this. I want to be there for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I wasn’t.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and for the first time in days, it feels like the distance that had crept between you is finally closing. There’s a warmth in the room now, a sense of mutual understanding and a willingness to do better, together.

“I don’t need us to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That we can lean on each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

Alexia nods, her eyes shining with emotion. “We are. I promise. I love you, and I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers. The silence that falls between you now isn’t heavy or filled with uncertainty. It’s peaceful, comforting.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

For now, the words are enough. There’s more to work through, more conversations to be had, but you know that you’re both committed to making this work. And for the first time in a while, you both feel like you're on solid ground again.

Alexia pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you, and you sink into the embrace. The weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope for what comes next.

After the heaviness of the conversation finally lifts, you and Alexia share a soft smile, the tension replaced by a quiet, comforting peace. The air between you feels lighter, and as if sensing the shift, Alexia’s lips curve into a small grin.

“How about we get some takeout?” she suggests, her voice playful yet warm. “I don’t feel like cooking, and I think we both deserve a break tonight.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect. I could definitely go for some comfort food.”

It doesn’t take long before you’ve both decided on your usual, something easy and satisfying. The soft glow of the kitchen light reflects off Alexia’s face as she places the order, her expression more relaxed than it’s been in days. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief, like things are finally settling back into place.

Not long after, the smell of freshly delivered food fills the room, and you both settle on the sofa, plates balanced on your laps, the comfort of being together in the small, familiar space wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Movie?” Alexia asks, already flicking through the streaming options.

“Nothing too heavy,” you say with a smile. “Something we can just zone out to.”

She nods in agreement, finally settling on a classic comedy that always makes you both laugh. As the opening credits roll, you finish your food and tuck yourself into her side, her arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

As the movie plays, the light from the screen flickers softly against the walls, casting a warm glow over the room. You’re snuggled close into Alexia’s side, her arm still draped around your shoulders, fingers lazily tracing small patterns on your arm. The comfort of it all makes you feel more at ease than you’ve felt in days.

At some point, the film becomes background noise. You’re more focused on the way Alexia’s thumb brushes your skin or the occasional glance you catch of her watching you instead of the movie. You shift slightly, turning your face up toward her, and her gaze softens as your eyes meet.

Alexia smiles, a tender warmth in her expression, and you can’t help but lean in. The first kiss is soft, almost shy, like you’re both still figuring out the rhythm after the tension of the last few days. Her lips linger against yours for a moment longer than usual, and when you pull back, you see the quiet joy in her eyes, a silent thank you for being open and honest with her, for being here.

Without a word, you lean in again, your lips meeting hers in a series of soft, gentle kisses. They’re unhurried, sweet, filled with a quiet kind of affection that says more than words could in this moment. Alexia’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her thumb grazing your jawline as she deepens the kiss slightly, but it’s still slow, still soft.

When you finally pull away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as you both smile, the movie all but forgotten now.

“I missed this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the quiet moment.

“Me too,” you whisper back, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips, your hands finding their way into hers.

She presses another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, and you both relax into the warmth of each other, the world outside fading as the night slips by.

There’s no rush, just the two of you, lost in the soft comfort of being close, the rest of the night spent in quiet kisses and shared smiles, wrapped up in each other as the movie plays on in the background. There is no need for more words tonight. You both know you’re in this together, that the promise made earlier will be something you will both work at together. And for right now, that’s enough.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fic #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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its-avalon-08 · 1 day

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Hi. Could you do a Fernando Alonso one where reader are Carmen's sister and sometimes accompany her to races to spend time together due to reader's busy schedule with her modeling career and to the point where Fernando becomes interested in knowing more about her while George and Carmen try to set them up, since they realize how well the two get along and the tension that is in the air

meddling and podiums (fa14)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, meddling george and carmen, cute, fluff,

The paddock was buzzing with the usual energy of race day. The sun beat down on the vibrant F1 scene, with fans filling the grandstands, drivers making last-minute preparations, and teams moving swiftly to ensure everything was ready for lights out. Amidst all this, Carmen and her sister, Y/N, walked through the paddock, turning a few heads.

Y/N hadn’t been to a race in a while. Her modeling career kept her moving from city to city, but today, she managed to carve out time to support her sister and spend some quality time together.

“I'm so glad you could make it,” Carmen smiled, looping her arm through Y/N's as they navigated through the McLaren garage. “Feels like I never see you anymore."

Y/N laughed, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced around. "Tell me about it. I've missed this vibe. You know how crazy my schedule’s been. But I needed this. A break, some racing… and, of course, hanging out with my favorite sister."

“Your only sister,” Carmen teased.

As they walked past the garages, Y/N caught sight of the familiar green of the Aston Martin team and its star driver, Fernando Alonso. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, rugged, and oozing confidence as he discussed strategy with his engineers. She had seen him on TV countless times but seeing him up close was something else entirely. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly commanding he was.

Carmen noticed her sister’s gaze lingering. "Interesting view?" she asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, though a smirk played on her lips. "Just… observing. No harm in looking, right?"

"Right…" Carmen said, clearly noting the spark of interest. "Come on, George is waiting for us at Mercedes. But, I wouldn't mind taking a detour near the Aston Martin garage later."

Y/N chuckled. "You're not that subtle, you know."

As they made their way towards George, Y/N felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing up, she met Fernando Alonso’s gaze for the briefest of moments. He looked curious, like he was trying to place her face. She wasn’t just another person in the paddock to him. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and he turned back to his conversation.

They reached Mercedes, where George Russell was leaning casually against a wall, spotting them from a distance with a wide grin on his face. "Well, look who finally decided to show up—Miss World herself," he teased, pushing off and walking over with a playful bounce in his step.

Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh please, as if you don’t love having me around to boost your popularity. Admit it, you’ve missed me."

"Missed? Try celebrating the peace and quiet since you've been jet-setting across the world," George shot back, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture. "Now you're back to ruin it all."

"Ruin it? I make everything better, Russ. Without me, you'd be bored out of your mind."

Carmen laughed as she watched them banter, but George wasn’t done. “Honestly, I think the paddock’s been too calm. Carmen’s always talking about you, and I’m like—great, now I have to deal with two of them. Double trouble."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. “Admit it, you love having me around to keep you on your toes."

George laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! You win. It’s nice to see you here, Y/N. It’s not the same without you stirring things up."

Y/N smirked. "That’s what I thought."

As they exchanged more playful jabs, George's expression turned more mischievous. "Oh, by the way, Alonso's been… asking about you."

Carmen and George shared a knowing look. "Well, you did just catch his eye. Plus, he's been asking questions like… ‘Who’s the girl that sometimes comes with Carmen?’ And ‘What does she do?’ You know, the usual."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "He could just ask me directly, you know."

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thinking about it,” Carmen said, nudging her.

As they chatted, George’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and grinned. “Speak of the devil. Fernando’s just invited us to the Aston Martin hospitality. Care to join?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, pretending to think. "Isn't this a bit of an obvious setup?"

Carmen laughed. "It's not a setup if there's already chemistry."

George nodded, backing her up. "Exactly. Come on, Y/N. Just join us. I bet it’ll be fun."

Y/N sighed, though a flicker of curiosity burned in her eyes. "Alright, alright. But if this gets awkward, I’m blaming both of you."

"Deal," George smirked, already texting Fernando back.

As they made their way toward Aston Martin, Y/N felt the flutter of anticipation rise in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but there was something intriguing about Fernando. The way he carried himself, the quiet confidence… it piqued her interest.

And if the way George and Carmen were looking at her was any indication, they were already rooting for something to happen.

---

The Aston Martin hospitality suite was buzzing with activity when Y/N, Carmen, and George arrived. The gleaming green branding and calm atmosphere contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy outside. Fernando was standing near a table, engrossed in conversation with one of the team members, but as soon as they entered, his eyes flicked toward them.

George waved, leading the way. “Fernando! Hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Fernando glanced up, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not at all,” he said smoothly, nodding at George before his gaze shifted to Y/N. “I see you’ve brought company.”

Y/N felt a slight flutter in her stomach as his dark eyes locked on hers. His presence was even more intense up close, and though he kept his tone casual, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like they were the only two in the room.

“This is Y/N,” George said, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, Carmen’s sister. We thought we’d drag her to more races since she’s been so busy.”

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” Fernando said, extending his hand toward Y/N. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a sense of quiet authority.

Y/N smiled, taking his hand in a firm handshake. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unexpected jolt that came from the contact.

“Only good things, I hope,” Fernando said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on hers.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Mostly.”

Carmen shot George a look, clearly noticing the subtle tension between them. “So, Fernando, you’re ready for today’s race?”

“Always,” he responded, but his attention was still on Y/N. “And what about you, Y/N? How does this compare to the excitement of your world?”

Y/N laughed softly, breaking eye contact for a moment. “A little different from the fashion shows, but I think I prefer the noise and chaos here. Plus, watching these races is a nice break from my schedule.”

Fernando’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I imagine modeling takes you all over the world.”

“It does,” she replied. “But I try to make time for things that really matter. Family, friends… experiences.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and there was no mistaking the subtle undercurrent in her words.

George, sensing the building tension, decided to jump in before things got too intense. “You two are making me feel like a third wheel,” he said, laughing awkwardly. Carmen elbowed him, but George just grinned. “Maybe we should give you a little more space.”

Carmen chimed in, smiling innocently. “That’s not a bad idea. George and I were going to grab some food, actually. You know, let you two get to know each other without us butting in.”

Y/N shot her sister a look, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. “Carmen…”

But George was already pulling Carmen along, leaving Fernando and Y/N standing there alone. "We'll be right back!" he called out, far too chipper as they disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to Fernando, trying not to laugh at her sister and George’s obvious meddling. “They’re not exactly subtle, are they?”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze softening. “Not at all.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. The air between them felt charged, like there was something simmering beneath the surface. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his attention making her heart race.

“You’re close with George and Carmen?” Fernando asked, his tone casual, but his interest was clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Carmen and I are really close. It’s hard with my schedule, so I try to come to races whenever I can to see her. George is like an annoying older brother, but… we all get along.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes following her movements. “I can see that. They seem like good people.”

“They are,” Y/N said. “George is always looking out for Carmen, and by extension, me. Which is probably why they’re trying so hard to—” she paused, catching herself before finishing the sentence, but Fernando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“To…?” he prompted.

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “To do exactly what they’re doing right now—setting us up.”

Fernando’s lips curved into a small smile. “Ah, so you noticed.”

“Hard not to,” she replied with a light laugh. “They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now.”

Fernando’s expression grew more serious, though the smile never left his face. “And what do you think about that? Being set up?”

Y/N paused, meeting his gaze again. There was something about him—he was confident, sure, but not in an arrogant way. His interest in her felt genuine, and she couldn’t deny the chemistry that was already building between them.

“I don’t usually like being set up,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But… I guess it depends on the person.”

Fernando’s smile widened slightly, and he took a step closer. “And what do you think of me so far?”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, the intensity of his gaze pulling her in. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she held his gaze. “I think you might surprise me.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with interest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Before Y/N could respond, Carmen and George reappeared with mischievous grins on their faces, carrying trays of food.

“Did we miss anything?” George asked, far too casually.

Y/N glanced at Fernando, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Nothing you two don’t already know.”

time skip

As the race weekend unfolded, it became clear to everyone in the paddock—especially to George and Carmen—that Fernando and Y/N were inseparable. Every free second, whether it was between practice sessions, during lunch breaks, or even casual moments walking through the paddock, they were side by side. Their conversations seemed endless, filled with easy laughter and stolen glances.

George and Carmen watched from the sidelines, their plotting almost becoming a sport of its own.

Friday afternoon

“Look at them,” Carmen whispered to George, nudging him as they stood by the Mercedes garage. Fernando and Y/N were sitting on a bench a few meters away, deep in conversation. Y/N was laughing at something Fernando had said, her face lighting up in a way that was hard to miss.

George smirked, crossing his arms. “I think we’ve done quite a job here.”

Carmen giggled, leaning into him. “You think they even notice how much time they’re spending together?”

“No way. They’re too busy making heart eyes at each other.”

Saturday, after qualifying

As the sun began to dip, the paddock was alive with chatter. Drivers were heading off for briefings, and team members bustled about. But Y/N and Fernando stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, completely in their own world.

“So,” Y/N said, leaning closer to him with a teasing smile, “you and George seem to get along surprisingly well. He’s not too annoying for you?”

Fernando chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “I think I’ve learned to tune him out when he starts talking too much.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s the secret to dealing with George. He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping just slightly. “And what about you? Are you as good at tuning him out?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N said, biting her lip, her tone playful. “But mostly, I just out-talk him.”

Fernando’s smirk grew, the tension between them unmistakable. “I can’t say I mind that.”

The air between them grew heavier, but before the moment could deepen, George’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, lovebirds!” he called out, grinning widely as he approached with Carmen. “Need any more help getting through this weekend together?”

Y/N groaned, laughing despite herself. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Carmen elbowed George, shooting Y/N and Fernando a playful wink. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he’s not the center of attention.”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze lingering on Y/N. “I don’t think anyone could take attention away from Y/N.”

Sunday afternoon, post-race

The crowd was roaring as the podium ceremony wrapped up, and Fernando had just claimed an impressive P2. Y/N stood at the edge of the celebration, smiling as she watched him pop the champagne and soak in the cheers from the fans. There was something exhilarating about being part of this world, but today it felt even more electric. Fernando’s win wasn’t the only thing sparking the excitement in the air.

As the drivers made their way off the podium, Fernando spotted Y/N standing by, clapping and grinning at him. His eyes lit up as he made a beeline toward her, weaving through the crowd. Still in his race suit, champagne dripping from his hair, he looked like a man on top of the world.

As the podium celebrations wound down, Fernando made his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for Y/N. He spotted her standing just off to the side, her smile wide as she clapped along with the cheering fans. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she was a steady presence, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

Still in his race suit, with champagne glistening on his hair and skin, he approached her, wiping a hand across his face as he grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N beamed up at him, her eyes bright. “Not bad at all. You looked like you were in your element out there.”

Fernando chuckled, slightly breathless but clearly energized. “I had some extra motivation.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And what might that be?”

He took a step closer, the noise of the paddock dimming in his mind. “You.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, surprise flashing in her eyes before she tilted her head, amused. “Me?”

Fernando nodded, his voice lowering as his gaze softened. “Yeah. Being around you this weekend… I haven’t felt like this in a while.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the air heavy with unsaid words. Y/N’s heart was racing, the playful teasing that usually colored their conversations giving way to something deeper.

“Listen,” Fernando said, his voice gentle but sure, “I know this weekend’s been crazy, but if you’re not flying out tomorrow… I’d like to take you out. Just us, somewhere quiet. No paddock noise, no distractions.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze locking with his. There was something sincere and almost vulnerable in his eyes, and for a moment, she forgot about the crowd, the race, and everything else.

“So,” she began, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips, “you’re asking me out, Alonso?”

Fernando smirked, his usual confidence creeping back as he held her gaze. “I am.”

Y/N bit her lip, her smile widening. “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes brightened with a mix of relief and excitement, the tension between them palpable. “Good. I'll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, her voice dropping to match the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m counting on it.”

For a brief second, the world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them standing there, caught in the electricity of something new.

As George and Carmen celebrated their success from the sidelines, Fernando and Y/N exchanged a look filled with the kind of tension that only comes when two people know they’re on the edge of something more.

And for once, the noise of the race weekend faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in the moment.

#fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso x you #fa14 #fa14 x reader #fa14 imagine #aston martin #mcalren #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #fia #george russell #carmen montero mundt

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itneverendshere · 1 day

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If you ever heard the song “Insecure” by Jazmine Sullivan, I was wondering if you could read a fic with rafe about that

it’s Like toxic!rafe and reader

insecure - bsf!toxic!rafe x kook!reader

If someone asked you how it started, you couldn’t even tell them.

It was Rafe Cameron you were talking about.

The guy was a walking red flag, all swagger, all ego, and too much money for his own good. He had the type of face that made you forgive him even when you didn’t want to. And trust, you'd tried to not want to. But that never worked out, obviously.

It’s not like you thought you could change him or whatever. You were not one of those girls. You just...thought you’d be different. Special. Maybe you got a little caught up in that fairy tale bullshit sometimes. Like, maybe if you were the one who held his attention long enough, maybe he’d stop messing around and actually be serious.

Actually see you.

Spoiler alert: That’s not how it worked

You learned that real quick with Rafe.

It wasn’t even two months in before you found some girl's scrunchie in his Jeep.

You were leaving the club, both tipsy, and you slid into the passenger seat when you spotted it in the back. You know how girls leave stuff behind like it’s a game? Like it’s their way of marking territory? That scrunchie was practically a neon sign that read, "I was here."

You picked it up, twirled it around your finger, and waited for him to notice.

He didn’t.

“What's this?” You finally asked, not even looking at him, just staring at that stupid pink scrunchie like it had all the answers you needed.

Rafe glanced over at it for half a second before shrugging, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Dunno. Probably Sarah’s.”

Sarah Cameron, his sister, the golden girl of the family. His excuse every time something came up.

“It’s not Sarah’s.” You weren't buying it. You knew that girl’s style inside and out, and there’s no way in hell she’d be caught dead wearing something this basic. You tossed it into the backseat, feeling your blood boil.

Of course he’d still treat you like shit, why care about a lifelong friendship, right?

Rafe rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the decency to act like he cared that you were pissed.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his voice dripping with that condescension that always made you feel stupid for caring. “It’s just a fucking scrunchie.”

But it wasn’t. Not to you.

See, the thing with Rafe is, he never said he was yours. You never had some grand conversation about exclusivity, about titles, none of that. But that’s how it was with him. He’d show up at your door, flash that killer smile, and you’d forget every reason why he wasn’t good for you.

And yet, there was this constant feeling in your chest.

Tight, twisted, like a knot you couldn’t untangle.

It wasn’t just the girls or the scrunchies or the way he’d disappear for days, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and half-assed explanations. It was you. How you felt around him. You were constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if you were enough, if you were what he wanted. Things were so different before.

If you were even on his radar when you weren't right in front of him. And that feeling, that deep, gnawing insecurity? It was starting to mess with your head.

A week after the scrunchie incident, you found yourself at another one of those parties on Figure Eight. The kind where we Kooks pretend we're so much better than everyone else but still drink cheap beer out of red solo cups. It was the usual crowd—Topper, Kelce, a few other guys you barely knew, and, of course, Rafe.

You were wearing this black mini dress you knew he liked, the one that hugged your body in all the right places. You wanted to feel good tonight, like you could make him see you the way you needed him to. It was pathetic, but you thought if you played your cards right, maybe you'd get more than just half-hearted attention.

But then, halfway through the night, you saw her.

This girl—some random pogue you'd never seen before—leaning against the bar, laughing at something Rafe was saying. And it wasn’t just that he was talking to her. No, it was the way he was looking at her. That look he used to give you when you first started whatever this was between you two.

Like she was the most interesting thing in the room. Like she was the only thing. Even if she was wearing that cheap, threadbare tank top and worn-out jean shorts. The kind of clothes that screamed she probably worked at some surf shop or waited tables just to get by. And here Rafe was, cozying up to her like she was something special. Like she wasn’t just another girl he’d forget about tomorrow. Making yourself compare to someone like her.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, your palms sweaty as you watched them. You could feel your heart sinking, your gut screaming at you to just leave. But you didn’t. You just stood there, like an idiot, frozen in place, watching him slide his hand up the back of her arm, a move so smooth, so practiced, it made you feel sick.

You hated this. Hated yourself. Hated that you let him have this kind of power over you.

Your mind did that annoying thing where it flashed back to the first time you slept with him. Like it wanted to torture you with every little detail of how you got here. You’d both been drunk, of course. But not blackout drunk—just the kind of buzzed where everything feels a little too easy, a little too warm.

You’d known Rafe forever, been best friends since you were kids. He was practically a part of you, or at least, he used to be. You trusted him, which is why when he showed up at your place that night, laughing about something stupid, you didn’t think twice when he crashed on your couch.

Only he didn’t stay on the couch.

You remember how he looked at you from across the room, that cocky smile he always wore, but softer somehow. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to make a move. He’d leaned in, brushed his hand against your leg—casual, but not really. Your heart had pounded in your chest, but you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to stop him.

And when he kissed you? You were done for. All those years of being “just friends” went right out the window. It was like all the tension between you, all the unspoken stuff, just exploded. You were in his lap before you even realized what was happening, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just this one-time thing, a moment of weakness.

But Rafe… he knew how to get to you.

He made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, even though you weren’t. You were just there, convenient. But at the time? You didn’t see it like that. You thought maybe this would change everything. That maybe the Rafe you’d grown up with was still in there somewhere, buried under all the coke, the girls, the chaos.

You were wrong.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. And the worst part was, you couldn’t even blame the girl. She probably had no idea who Rafe really was. She just saw the guy with the money, the smile, the charm.

Your throat tightened as he leaned in, saying something that made her laugh again. That same laugh he’d once pulled out of you. God, how could you be so stupid? You knew what he was. Hell, you’d known for years. But still, you’d let yourself get wrapped up in him, like maybe you’d be the exception. Like maybe you’d matter.

But you didn’t. You were just another girl he’d sweet-talk, mess with, and then forget about the second something new and shiny came along.

Topper came up beside you, nudging you with his shoulder. “You good?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the scene in front of you and forcing a smile. “Yeah, totally. Just need another drink.” Your voice was light, casual, but inside, you were falling apart.

He gave you a weird look, but shrugged it off.

Guess everyone knew how you felt about Rafe. You weren't exactly subtle about it.

You downed another vodka soda, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache in your chest, and made a beeline for the back of the house.

You needed air. You needed to breathe.

You barely made it past the kitchen before you felt someone grab your wrist, pulling you into the hallway. You turned, expecting it to be some random guy, but no—it was Rafe. His grip was tight, a little too tight, and you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

“You’re leaving already?”

Rafe’s grip on your wrist was too tight, but it wasn’t like that surprised you anymore. It was always like this with him—one second, things were fine, and the next, you were stuck in this same stupid cycle of feeling small and stupid for caring.

“I just need some air,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but of course, he didn’t let go. His eyes flicked across your face like he was trying to figure out if you were actually upset or just being “dramatic,” which, spoiler alert, you weren’t.

“You’re not seriously mad about that girl, right?” His voice dripped with amusement, like your feelings were some kind of joke to him. He leaned in, lowering his voice like that was supposed to make you feel better. “It’s not that deep.”

It's hard to remember this used to be your best friend, before you two started whatever this game was and he decided you just weren't that girl to him anymore, just another body he could call up when he needed to get laid.

You stared at him, mouth dry, trying to figure out why you were even still standing here.

“Really?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Because it kinda feels like it is.” You finally yanked your wrist free, stepping back just enough to get some space. “Do you even care? Like, do you even care that you’re making me feel like this?” You hated how your voice cracked, how vulnerable you sounded.

Rafe just stared at you like you were overreacting. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Why are you always making this such a thing?”

Fun. God, that word made your stomach turn.

Fun for who? You knew what he meant, but hearing it out loud still stung. You’d been holding onto this hope, this ridiculous idea that maybe you were different, maybe he cared more. But it was so clear now. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t even close.

“It’s a thing because it is a thing,” you said, voice shaky but steady enough. “I can’t just turn off my feelings like you do, Rafe. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when I see you flirting with other girls like I don’t exist.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re making this complicated. I never said we were serious. You knew what this was from the start.”

And there it was.

The slap of reality you’d been avoiding for way too long. He never said you were his, never promised you anything more than what he gave—a few nights here and there, some attention when it was convenient for him, but nothing real.

And you knew that. But it didn’t stop you from wanting more.

“But you still keep me around, don’t you?” you said quietly, mostly talking to yourself at this point. “You keep me close when it’s easy, when it’s fun for you. And I let you.”

God, that hurt to admit out loud. You let him make you feel like this. Over and over.

Rafe just stood there, completely unfazed. Like this was no big deal. He shrugged, and it made you want to scream. “If you’re so unhappy, then just leave.”

You stared at him, feeling your heart twist in your chest. How did it always come back to this? Him pushing you away like you didn’t mean anything. Like you weren’t standing right here, hurting. You searched his face for something—anything—that showed he actually gave a damn.

But there was nothing.

“Yeah,” you whispered, throat tight. “Maybe I should.”

Rafe blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. The moment you said “maybe I should,” it was like the words didn’t even register with him. He let out this half-laugh, half-scoff, eyebrows raised. “Wait—what? You’re not actually serious right now.”

You just stood there, trying to hold onto the last shred of whatever self-respect you had left, but his reaction made you feel like you were the crazy one. Like you weren’t the one who’d been dragged through the emotional wringer for months.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible, but inside? You were shaking. “I’m done.”

He shook his head, like you were talking nonsense. “C’mon, stop. You always say shit like this when you’re mad. You’ll cool off in a couple hours. You’re just… overreacting. Again.”

That word—overreacting—was like gasoline on the fire burning inside you.

“I’m not overreacting. I’m tired.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of all the times you’d let him off the hook. “I’m tired of feeling like an idiot every time I care about you. Every time I think we might actually be something.”

He took a step closer, and you could smell the beer and expensive cologne clinging to him. “We are something,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine, like he believed it. “We have fun. You’re acting like I’m out here trying to hurt you or somethin'.”

“You don’t think you’re hurting me because you never even think about me in the first place,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You never even consider how any of this makes me feel, and that’s the problem. You don’t care.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight back like you half-expected him to. Instead, he just stared at you, confusion all over his face, like this was the first time he’d ever heard any of this.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave?” He asked it like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like the concept of you actually walking away from him didn’t make any sense. “You’re not serious. You won’t actually leave.”

Your heart twisted at that—at how confident he was that you’d stay. That no matter how many times he messed up, no matter how many girls there were, or how many times he ghosted you, you’d always be right there, waiting. Because you always were. All your life.

He was so sure of it.

You felt your hands shake, and you hated that he still had that power over you. That even now, standing here in this stupid hallway at some stupid party, your heart was still fighting your brain, still wanting to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m leaving.” The words came out firm, stronger than you even thought you were capable of right now. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Panic, maybe. Or maybe it was just the realization that he didn’t have you as locked down as he thought. “You’re really gonna walk away from this?” He gestured between the two of you, as if whatever this was had been so good, so untouchable. “Don’t be stupid.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You think I’m the one being stupid? You’ve taken me for granted this whole time, and I was dumb enough to let you."

He just stood there, silent, looking like he didn’t even know how to answer. Because he didn’t. He never actually thought you’d go. He never thought you’d call him on his shit and mean it.

But you did. And now he was realizing it.

Without waiting for him to say another word, you turned and walked away, feeling like you could finally breathe for the first time in a long time.

You barely made it a few steps before you heard him call after you. “Wait, hold on!”

You kept walking, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. You knew if you stopped, if you even looked back at him, you’d get sucked right back in. But of course, Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easy.

“Wait!” His voice was closer now, and before you could pick up the pace, he grabbed your arm—not harshly this time, just enough to make you stop. “Come on, don’t just walk away.”

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a second before turning around. “What, Rafe? What do you want me to say?” You were so exhausted from this, from him, from the constant back and forth. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

He let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to rein it in. “Can we just… talk about this? You’re pissed right now, and I get it, but you can’t just leave like this.”

“I can leave,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “That’s literally what I’m doing."

He exhaled sharply, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re really just gonna throw everything away? After all this time?”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What exactly am I throwing away? Huh? What have we even been lately? ’Cause from where I’m standing, all I’ve been doing is waiting around for you to decide if I’m worth more than just a random hookup whenever you feel like it.”

He winced at that, and for a second, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d get it. Maybe this would be the moment where he actually realized how badly he’d been screwing up. But instead, he went for the same excuse he always did.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, like that would erase everything. “You know I care about you, okay? We’ve known each other forever. You’re… important to me.”

“Important to you?” You laughed, but it wasn’t even close to funny. “If this is how you treat people who are ‘important’ to you, then I don’t even wanna know how you treat people who aren’t. Oh wait, I do know."

Rafe sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Look, I know I’ve messed up. But…Can we just, like, think about it for a second? Talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build again. “What is there to talk about? You only wanna have this conversation now because I’m actually leaving. You never wanted to talk about it before.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No, Rafe. You think I haven’t tried to bring this up? Every time I tell you how I feel, you brush me off. I’ve been bending over backwards, trying to make this work, and all I’ve gotten in return is you treating me like I’m an afterthought.”

Rafe frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not true. I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Because I’m walking away,” you shot back. “That’s the only reason you care right now—because you don’t wanna lose control. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You never actually thought I’d leave.”

He didn’t say anything, which pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “We used to be best friends. I knew you better than anyone, and you knew me. But I don’t even recognize you anymore. And honestly? I don’t recognize me when I’m around you either.” Your voice softened, "I deserve better than this. And you know it.”

For a second, he just stood there, looking at you like he was processing everything. His face wasn’t smug or arrogant anymore. He actually looked… lost. Maybe even scared. It was the first time you’d seen him drop the act in a long time, and for a split second, you felt that pull again—the one that always made you want to fix things, to make it better, to stay.

But you couldn’t do it this time. You couldn’t keep saving him at the expense of yourself.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he finally said, his voice quieter, almost vulnerable. “You’re… you’re one of the only people who actually gets me. I don’t wanna lose that.”

That hit you right in the gut, because deep down, you didn’t wanna lose him either. He was right—you did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t change what he’d been putting you through. And just because he was scared of losing you didn’t mean he was ready to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” you admitted, “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the girl you turn to when it’s convenient for you.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to the ground like he didn’t know what to say. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was finally realizing how badly he’d screwed this up.

You sighed, stepping back. “Look, I hope you figure your shit out. I really do. But I’m not sticking around to wait for that.”

You’d barely taken two steps when you heard him again, this time his voice quieter, almost desperate. “Wait—please. Just… don’t go.”

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. You were trying so hard to keep it together, to not let him see how badly this was wrecking you. Then he dropped the bomb.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sober.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you turned back around, eyes wide. “What?”

He looked at you like he was begging you to understand, to stay. “I’m serious. Since I stopped using…you’re the only thing that’s been helping me hold it together. You leaving—it’s gonna fuck me up. You know that.”

Your heart twisted, hard. Of course he’d pull this now. You stared at him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I’m not lying,” He insisted, taking a step closer. “I swear. I’m trying to do better. You’re the reason I haven’t gone back to that shit. You’ve always been the one to pull me out of it, and if you leave—”

“Stop,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re really trying to put this on me?” Your voice was rising, and you didn’t even care if people inside the party heard you. “You’re trying to make me responsible for you staying clean? Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

Rafe flinched, his expression shifting from desperate to defensive. “I’m just saying it how it is. You’ve helped me more than anyone else. You know that.”

“No,” you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not doing this. I’m not carrying that weight for you. That’s not fair, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done. “You can’t just dump your problems on me and expect me to fix them. I’m not your therapist, and I’m definitely not your savior.” Your chest was heaving now, all the anger and hurt that had been building up for months finally spilling over. “You don’t get to use your sobriety as a leash to keep me here.”

His face fell at that, and for a split second, you saw a flash of guilt. But it wasn’t enough. “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” he said, though even he sounded unsure of his words now. “I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t know what to do because you’ve never had to actually deal with the consequences of your actions,” you fired back. “You’ve always just said whatever you needed to say to keep people around. To keep me around.”

Rafe looked at you like he wanted to fight back, but the fight wasn’t there. Not this time. “That’s not what this is,” he muttered, but it sounded weak even to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m glad you’re sober. I really am. But that’s not my responsibility. It never should’ve been.” You paused, feeling every word you were about to say. “If staying clean depends on me staying in your life, then you haven’t actually changed. You’ve just found a new addiction.”

He stared at you, and for the first time, he didn’t have a response. No cocky smirk, no empty promises. Just silence.

“I’m not gonna be your crutch anymore,” you said softly, the anger fading, replaced with a deep, painful sadness. “You need to get better for you, not for me. And if you can’t do that… then this was never gonna work anyway.”

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, and you could see the defeat in his eyes, like he was finally realizing that no matter what he said, this time you weren’t coming back.

“Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You blinked back the tears that were starting to sting your eyes. “You’ll figure it out."

His on his knees before you realized. Literally.

Your eyes widened in complete disbelief. “Rafe, what the hell are you doing?”

He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just staring at the floor, hands running through his hair like he was about to lose it. “Please don’t leave. I’m begging you. I—I can’t… I don’t know what to do without you.”

You froze, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Because maybe he had. What was this? You felt like you were watching some movie, except it was your life, and it wasn’t dramatic or romantic or whatever he thought it was. It was just… sad. And kind of terrifying.

“Get up.” Your voice wasn’t even loud—it was flat, emotionless. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. “Rafe, seriously. Get the fuck up.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice shaky. “I’m so fucking sorry. You’re all I’ve ever had, okay? Since we were kids, you’ve been the only person who’s ever stuck with me. Everyone else leaves. Everyone. But not you. You’ve always been there, no matter how much I’ve messed up.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut because, deep down, they were true. You had always been there. Through everything. The good, the bad, and the absolute worst. And maybe that’s why it hurt so damn much now—because he’d taken that loyalty, that friendship, and twisted it into something ugly and unrecognizable.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I seriously can’t believe you right now.” You shook your head, staring at him in disbelief. “You think this is gonna fix everything? You think getting on your knees and saying some bullshit is gonna make me forget all the times you hurt me?"

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy, and it almost made your heart break. Almost. But you weren't going to fall for it anymore. “I didn’t mean to take you for granted. I just—I never thought you’d actually leave. You never left before.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re here,” you snapped, “You always thought I’d stay, no matter how bad you treated me. You counted on it."

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. “I know I fucked up. But I’ll do anything to fix it. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please, just don’t go.”

You stared at him, the guy you’d known since forever, the one you’d stuck by when no one else did. The one you thought you could save, even though now you realized you couldn’t even save yourself when you were with him.

But this? Him on his knees? This wasn’t him fixing anything. This was him panicking, terrified that the one thing he’d taken for granted all these years was slipping away.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to keep you alive. That’s on you. I’ve been there for you since we were six, and look where that’s gotten me. Look where that’s gotten us.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate, but you knew that if you stayed, this would keep happening. He would hurt you again, and you’d forgive him.

Because that’s what you did. That’s what you’d always done.

“I can’t keep being your safety net,” you whispered, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “You have to figure out who you are without me always picking up the pieces.”

He shook his head, his voice breaking. “But I don’t know how.”

And that was the saddest part of all. He didn’t know how. He had no idea who he was without you constantly there to catch him when he fell. And you were tired of being the one holding him up while he pulled you down.

You took a deep breath, looking down at him—this broken, scared version of Rafe you never wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “but this? This isn’t love. This isn’t healthy. This is you being afraid of losing control. And I’m not gonna let you use me to keep your shit together anymore.”

His eyes filled with tears, and for a second, your heart ached. Because yeah, you loved him once. Maybe you still did in some messed-up way. But love wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

“I hope you get better,” you said, taking a step back. “I really do. But I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

And for the first time in your life, you were the one to walk away.

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themultifanshipper · 2 days

Note

hatesex with Daniel Riccardo x reader 🟠 reader is a sister of either max or Norris lol whatever works for you but they're at a party then Daniel and reader get to a huge argument max/Lando told them to settle it privately so they went to the guest room to talk it out and I guess you know where the story goes from here (reader getting absolutely railed by Daniel)

It’s hard to make a name for yourself in motorsports when your last name is already famous, in the form of a three time formula one world champion.

Warnings: driver!reader, Verstappen!reader, bickering, Daniel is a real dick in this one guys, but so is reader, rancid vibes, smut, PinV sex, rough sex, kinda dubious consent at first, choking, y’all know the drill, basically fighting and fucking at the same time, it's something

(Also I forgot to put the first prompt in the fic but it's the viiibe)

You'd trailed behind him, following his every step (with a few years difference) and at the age of 21 you were starting your second year driving for VCARB.

You had met Daniel back when he and Max were teammates, and you immediately disliked him.

He flirted with everything that had a pulse, and he'd jokingly made a pass at you, and you'd gone straight to tell your brother.

You were 15.

It didn't go down well, at all.

On both sides. Max was furious at him for flirting with you, and Daniel was furious at you for snitching given that he had no idea Max was your brother.

You'd always been a hot-headed child. Using your mouth before your brain was your biggest flaw.

Then Daniel moved to Renault and you didn't see him again much after that.

But you vowed that if he was still in F1 by the time you got there, you would make his life a living hell.

And it was just your luck, Perez got fired at the beginning of 2023, Yuki was promoted, and your teammate Nyck was dropped mid season. Which meant that through some kind of fucked up twist of fate, Daniel Ricciardo was now your teammate. And to make matters worse, Redbull's circus pony also had the seat the year after.

You were the Verstappen project 2.0, and Daniel was a deeply resentful motherfucker.

Forget Senna and Prost, forget Brocedes, forget the old Verstappen-Ricciardo rivalry.

There was a new Verstappen in town, and she was worse than the last.

More aggressive, more petty, more youthful, and more talented (although Max would disagree with that last one).

Daniel didn't stand a fucking chance.

You'd even tried to buy each other out of the team, unsuccessfully.

But you did have one thing over him, and he didn’t even know it yet. Max was retiring after his 4th title, and you had been given his seat.

Max of course was good friends with Daniel, which made social situations quite awkward sometimes.

Like the party you were currently at.

You had won the last race, in Australia of all places, and there was a two week break during which Lewis (coming off the high of a p2 in a shitbox of a Mercedes) decided to throw a massive party in his penthouse.

Lewis knew how to throw a party, no one could deny that, but he seriously needed to be more careful what kind of scum he let through his front door.

That was your alcohol addled mind talking as you spotted Daniel walk in, stupid shirt open showing his stupid toned chest and stupid pants accentuating his slutty waist and stupid thick thighs…

That was also the alcohol talking.

Somehow you both ended up in the same circle on the patio along with a few other drivers.

The conversation inevitably steered towards Daniel's future in F1 given that he didn't yet have a contract for the 2025 season.

“So how does it feel being outperformed by not one, but two Verstappens in your career?”

You knew the question was petty and stupid and could only lead to another one of your regularly scheduled shouting matches, but you didn't give a shit.

He stopped mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes at you.

“And, how does it feel that you're in a backmarker team 14 years into your career, being overshadowed by someone in their second year?”

The silence was palpable, the other drivers were sipping their drinks and pretending they weren't listening.

Daniel was staring at you as if he couldn't believe you would dare start this shit in front of the others.

But you were drunk and loose lipped and right now you were capable of saying anything to rile him up.

Such as-

“And, hear me out, wouldn't it be funny if I got the Redbull seat before you do? And I didn’t even have to suck Christian's dick to get it!”

The fact that you were getting the other seat next year hadn't been revealed to the public yet, or the other drivers, or Daniel.

The words hit the group like a freight train, and you almost regretted opening your mouth, but the look on Daniel's face made it entirely worth it.

His nostrils flared and he slowly got up, didn't say a single word, and went back inside.

The circle let out a collective breath.

“No comeback” you sighed, disappointed, downing the rest of your glass.

Lando, who was sitting next to you stared at you “Is it true about the Redbull seat?”

You smirked at him.

“Maybeee”

You stood up, brushed yourself off and followed Daniel inside, with the intention of getting another drink, when you were stopped in the hallway by your brother.

“What the fuck did you say to Daniel?” he hissed as he pushed you into the kitchen. “He’s angrily ranting about Christian and I just know you have something to do with it!”

You crossed your arms defiantly and stared at the neck of his polo shirt, avoiding his eyes.

“I might have mentioned something about him being washed and not being considered for next year’s Redbull's seat…” you shrugged “He's only angry because it's true”

Daniel chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen, and when his eyes landed on you he scoffed.

“Getting scolded by your big brother now? Must be hard living in his shadow”

Once again, your mouth reacted quicker than your brain.

“That's rich coming from Redbull's talentless cash cow”

“You only just turned 21 and you're already drinking so much everything out of your mouth is bullshit-”

“Okay, that's it!” Max yelled.

He slammed his drink down next to yours on the counter and dragged you to the nearest guest room, motioning for Daniel to follow you.

“You two are actually driving me up the wall with this shit! I don't know why you hate each other so much but I am sick of the constant bickering. You are not coming out of this room until you find some way to get along!”

He slammed the door shut on his way out and you and Daniel were left in silence.

You just stared at each other, full of contempt.

“I hate you”

“Oh, I know! You’ve made that abundantly clear!”

Silence once again fell upon you because neither of you had anything constructive or remotely helpful to say, so you sat down on the bed and picked at your nails.

He just scoffed again and started pacing around the room.

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like it stretched on for at least ten good minutes before you decided you’d had enough.

You stood up abruptly, planning on storming out of there without a word, your brother be damned, when you stopped by Daniel speaking up before you’d even made it halfway across the room.

“Is true about the RedBull seat?”

You realized for the first time how shitty his situation actually was. And it probably wasn’t made any better by your constant insulting him. And breaking the news to him like that, in front of everyone was probably humiliating, and quite frankly a very shitty thing to-

“Because if it is you definitely don’t deserve it. It should go to a driver that’s earned it with experience, not Max’s second rate bitch of a sister”

Okay, never mind then.

You turned around to face him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem” he started, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against “is that you don’t deserve that seat, I do.”

“Well despite you sucking Christian’s dick for a decade, he doesn’t agree.”

Daniel stepped towards you, towering over your frame menacingly but you continued “I’ve scored double the points in the first half of this season that you scored in your entire time at this team, so whether you like it or not, I’ll be taking Max’s seat next year.”

He growled and leaned down so that there was barely an inch between your faces. “Say that again, I dare you.”

“Which part? The part about me being better than you? Or the part about how you’ve been bending over for any team boss that’ll have you? It’s not exactl- mmf!”

He’d grabbed your neck and crashed his lips to yours, silencing the onslaught of painful truths he couldn’t accept.

You reflexively grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer, other hand weaving into his hair and pulling, making him grunt as he easily slipped his tongue into your eager mouth.

Fuck it felt good. It had been a while since you’d been able to find a random person who didn’t know who you were to have sex with, so you were slightly pent up. You could feel your body temperature rising as you started getting breathless, and Daniel bit your bottom lip.

You suddenly realised where you were and pushed him backwards roughly.

"I won in Australia"

“Fuck you” he panted.

“Never” you spat at him before attempting to walk past but he intercepted you and pushed you roughly onto the bed.

“Fuck you, fuck your trophy and fuck this fucking dress”

He took advantage of your disorientation to climb on himself and turn you over, hiking your hips up and shoving your dress up.

“The fuck are you-“ you were interrupted by your panties being dragged down unceremoniously.

You gasped as a finger came to dip between your folds to feel the dampness that had pooled there. “Daniel don’t you fucking dare-“

“Pretty fucking wet for someone who claims to hate me” he slipped a finger in easily pumping it and out a couple of times before adding a second.

“I do hate you, and if you think anything you could possibly do will change that then you’re even more delusional than I thought” you managed to say through gritted teeth as he added a third, before undoing his belt and pushing his pants down just enough to get his hard cock out.

He popped the tip inside and slowly, inch by inch, slip into your tight heat.

I took everything you had in you to not make a sound, you refused to give him the satisfaction.

When he nudged your cervix you shuddered, but your lips stayed firmly sealed.

“Say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart” he said, voice cracking with how good your walls felt around him, he’d waited for this moment for a long time.

You didn’t make a sound though, and he chuckled as he pulled out halfway.

“Thought so”

He thrusted back in roughly, making you choke on a moan as he continued at a relentless pace and his hips slapped against yours.

You whined quietly and he leaned over you, hips never faltering, to whisper in your ear “what was that beautiful? I didn’t quite catch it…”

After a particularly hard thrust you moaned properly for the first time and he laughed.

“Fuck you” you spat and his hand went to wrap into your hair to pull your head back as he mouthed at your neck.

“I am fucking you, and you’re going to come on my cock. Because even if you get the seat, I’ll get the satisfaction of knowing I have something Max doesn’t. This sweet fucking pussy, drooling helplessly around my cock while he’s in the other room.”

Each thrust was harder than the last, and your eyes were rolling back into your skull as you tried to maintain some sort of control.

But you were failing miserably, Daniel somehow hitting all the perfect spots as your legs gave out and you were forced to lay flat on the bed while Daniel pushed your head down into the pillows and he bullied his cock into your weeping cunt mercilessly.

“Daniel, fuck!” you whimpered, you high quickly approaching after the change of angle “Shit, I’m gonna…”

You were right on the edge, but Daniel pulled out suddenly, ripping your orgasm from your grasp.

“What-!”

He turned you over and pressed you into the mattress by your neck and shoved his cock back into you before you could protest further.

“I want to see you come undone on my cock, see your pretty face as you lose control.”

You gave him the most hate-filled look you could muster, but it quickly slipped away when he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle.

Small whimpers escaped you despite you biting your lip to keep quiet.

That displeased Daniel greatly, so he grabbed your jaw and leaned over you.

“Open.”

He was so forceful you had no choice but to comply and he shoved two fingers in your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to stop you from concealing your noises.

“Wanna hear you baby, I want Max to hear how his precious little sister is actually a whore. How Christians new driver is fucking ruined on my cock. How despite how much you think you hate me, you’re going to scream my name while I fill you up.”

Your hands were scratching down his back at this point, only encouraging him to go harder, and your abandoned high quickly came back full force.

You moans got higher in pitch and Daniel used his other hand to rub messy circles over your puffy clit, essentially throwing you over the edge as your orgasm knocked the wind out of you.

Your cunt spasmed and clenched around Daniel and there wasn’t much he could do to hold off his own high as he came inside you, head falling to the crook of your neck as his hips finally grinded to a halt.

He didn’t move for a while as you both lay there catching your breaths, slowly coming to terms with what you’d just done.

“Max is going to fucking kill you” you said, and he snorted before pulled out.

“Oh please, Max is in love with me. Besides, who’s gonna tell him? You?” he raised a cocky eyebrow as you pursed your lips.

He was right, you sure as hell weren’t going to tell your brother about this.

“Whatever, you’re paying for my plan B. I’ll send you the bill.”

He just chuckled as you quickly got to your feet to pull your dress down and straighten yourself up in front of the large mirror in the corner (God, Lewis was a freak) before going off to find a bathroom to clean yourself up properly in.

In the corridor, you ran into Max, who crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Well? Did you two sort it out?”

“No” you growled and he sighed dejectedly.

You didn’t have time for this though, you could feel Daniel’s cum leaking out of you and running down your leg, so you pushed Max out of the way and rushed to the nearest bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniel came out of the bedroom right after, and just as Max looked at him he was still putting his belt back on.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what that meant, Max saw red as Daniel froze, the older man noticing him a beat too late.

Well, so much for keeping it on the down low…

The rest of the season was going to be interesting…

#my thots #daniel thots #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #dr3 #ask #request

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violettwrites · 1 day

Text

trailer park trash 🏹 young!daryl dixon

a/n: had this sitting in my drafts for a while 🫠 but i finally got around to finishing it ! i’m lowkey obsessed w the idea of young!daryl atm as well he’s just so fine 😭 but i hope y’all enjoy this ! please give me a like, reblog, and/or comment if you did 🫶🏻

this is my masterlist !

and my ask box is currently open for requests !

( also shout out to @madelyncilne for being my beta reader i love u gf 🫶🏻😙 )

summary: 1988. reader has been best friends with daryl since they were little. as they celebrate his 19th birthday, drunken conversations happen where feelings that had been pushed down are told. ( pre apoc )

pairing: young!daryl dixon x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smoking, mentions of weed— just a grunge-y trailer park party scene, making out 🫶🏻

word count: 1,856

— — —

it was july, 1988, a sweltering summer evening in the small, beat up trailer park you and daryl had called home for as long as you could remember. the worn out trailers sat in uneven rows, nestled between overgrown patches of grass and dusty gravel.

your fathers were friends— and though they were both horrible people, you were definitely blessed to have found daryl dixon amidst the chaos of your personal life. he had turned into your best friend— your confidant. he was the one you told everything to. no detail was ever too small. and even though daryl wasn’t much of a talker himself, he always listened.

it was daryl’s 19th birthday. merle, daryl’s older brother, had thrown together a party without much care. however, you both knew it was just an excuse for him to get drunk. not that he needed one anyway. he had mostly invited friends of his own. the kind you weren’t really a fan of; loud, aggressive, always looking for a fight— and way too drunk to care about the aftermath. you didn’t mind though, because you were there for daryl.

the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and smoke, whether it was from weed or nicotine. merle’s sound system drowns out the hum of cicadas with its scream of pantera lyrics. but it was familiar to you, because this was how majority of your weekends were. you and daryl laying in his bed, ignoring merle and his friends as you smoked cigarettes. sometimes one, others five.

“hey! c’mon, you’re fallin’ behind!” merle shouted, staggering over to you with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. he was already wasted, his wild laughter echoing through the park. you rolled your eyes at him but took a sip of the beer you had in your hand. sure, you were definitely tipsy, and even though you had no desire to keep up with merle and his crowd, it was just easier to go with it.

daryl, leaning against the side of the trailer, had been watching you most of the night. between getting dragged into games of beer pong and the several shots that he had done, he had kept his eyes on you. ready to intervene incase any of merle’s drunken friends put their hands on you.

despite the alcohol in his system, you had noticed he had been quieter than usual. no echoing cheers as he won a tournament, or no whooping after he downed three shots in a row. his shoulders were tense, eyes dark in the moonlight. you really couldn’t tell what was going on through his head tonight, but you knew he wasn’t himself.

“hey, you good?” you asked when you had made your way over to him, the party roaring on behind you. someone had lit a fire out in the field behind the dixon’s trailer, and merle and his friends were starting to get really rowdy, howling at the flames like a pack of wolves.

daryl looked at you, eyes flickering in the dim light. he shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle in his hand. “yeah, ‘m fine. just… it’s loud, y’know?”

you nodded, leaning against the trailer next to him. you could feel the heat of his arm just barely brushing against yours. it had always been like that with daryl. the way you were always near each other, like magnets that couldn’t quite pull apart.

merle’s laugh rang out again, and you could see him egging on some of the guys, probably looking for trouble. “looks like merle’s having a good time.” you rolled your eyes, sipping at your beer again.

“yeah, well, tha’s merle,” daryl muttered, his voice low and gravelly, like he had something caught in his throat. “he don’ know when to stop.”

the two of you stood in silence for a moment, listening to the noise of the party behind you. motörhead was now playing through the speakers, and the hollers of the group down by the fire in the field was still going.

“hey, it’s your birthday. we should do something. just you and me.” you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol making you bolder, but you decided to say what had been sitting on your chest all night.

daryl looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to read between the lines of what you said. “like what?”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged your shoulders, trying to play it off causally, “get outta here, away from this mess. go down by the creek like we used to.”

he stared at you for a moment, and you swore you saw something shift in his expression. he was already drunk, you knew that, but there was something else there too. maybe it was the same thing you had been pushing down since you were thirteen and realised what crushes were.

“yeah,” he said quietly, nodding, “let’s go.”

the two of you slipped away from the party, walking through the field and down towards the creek. although you could still hear the faint bass of the music, it was quieter down there. you could hear the water trickling over the rocks, and the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees. you sat down on the bank, the cool grass under your legs, and looked out at the stars scattered across the sky.

daryl sat down next to you, arms resting on his knees. he was closer to you than he normally was, his bicep brushing against yours. you could smell the whiskey on his breath, but you didn’t mind. you were used to the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes— it was part of life around here.

after a few minutes of comfortable silence, daryl spoke. his voice was rougher than usual, thick with whatever emotions he had been drowning all night. “y’ever think ‘bout gettin’ outta here?”

the question caught you off guard, but you answered honestly. “yeah,” you nodded, “all the time.”

he looked at you, his eyes glassy but intense. “where would ya go?”

“i don’t know,” you said with a soft laugh, “somewhere far away. maybe the mountains, or a big city. somewhere where things aren’t so messed up.”

daryl nodded his head, looking down at the bottle in his hand before taking another swig. “yeah, i think ‘bout it too.”

the silence stretched again, and you felt the weight of all the things left unsaid between the two of you. daryl shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.

“i ain’t ever told you this, but… you’re the only person i give a damn about in this place.”

your breath hitched, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. you’d always felt something more for daryl, but you had never brought it up to him. you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had, and if you could only have him as a friend, then so be it. because it was better than being alone.

“me too,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “i care about you too.”

he turned to look at you, his face inches from yours now, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. “i ain’t no good, though. you know that.”

you shook your head, your hand reaching for his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “don’t say that. you’re better than anyone else here.”

his eyes stared at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again. the air was thick with tension, and then, without thinking, he leaned in. his lips crashed into yours, rough and urgent, tasting like whiskey and everything you’d ever wanted.

the kiss was messy, desperate, both of you giving into all of the feelings you’d buried for years. your hands cupped his cheeks, moving to crawl onto his lap, finding a new angle as you continued to make out with the boy underneath you.

when his hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer, you swore it felt like fire when he touched you. you let his hands roam, both your tongues swirling with each other. it felt like bliss, like you were both lost in a world where only the two of you existed, the years of unspoken tension finally erupting in this one heated moment.

every breath was shared, every touch electric. you both had been waiting for this for far too long. his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to send shivers down your spine.

you felt the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, your nails lightly grazing the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. the taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips, but now there was something more— something raw and unfiltered. the taste of desire.

his hands began to explore more boldly, pulling you even closer until there was no space left. your heart raced, and you weren’t sure if you were feeling your own heart thump against your chest, or his.

“daryl!” you heard a drunken voice holler from the trees, causing the two of you to break apart, breathless and cheeks red. you looked down at him for a moment, a small laugh coming from your lips as you heard the drunken voice holler once again for daryl.

merle.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he mutters softly, hands gently rubbing at where he had dug his fingertips into you. he held your gaze, eyes dark.

“me too,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the weight of everything you both had left unsaid, all the words that had been replaced by the kiss, by the touch of his hands on your skin.

“daaaaryl!” you heard merle holler once again, and you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes as you moved to get up, holding out your hand to the boy beneath you, pulling him up off the creek bed.

“c’mon,” you huffed, shaking your head as you pulled him back towards the trailer. “merle’s either gonna have a fit, or he’s gonna end up drowning in the creek if we don’t get to him soon.”

daryl just chuckled, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his as you both walked towards the trailer, finding a stumbling merle with a now almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand not too far from where the two of you had been hiding.

“there he is! there’s my baby brother!” merle shouted, throwing his arms open wide, bottle of whiskey smashing into the trees.

he watched as you let go of his hand to turn merle around, your palms on his older brother’s shoulders as you walked him back towards the trailer, a small smile on his lips.

daryl may have been trailer park trash, but at least he had someone that cared about him.

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mustainegf · 2 days

Text

This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you." I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

#mustainegf #fanfiction #fanfic #reqs open #request #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica fluff #james hetfield #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagines #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica oneshot #metallica imagines

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conchcronch · 2 days

Text

Little Rabbit

Sir Crocodile x You

It’s been weeks since he’s paid you an ounce of attention. You had done everything you could think of, except one thing. You knew interrupting their meeting was going to be met with a punishment, but at least you’d have him all to yourself.

A/N: I do not know where this came from, am I a Crocodile simp now 🤷‍♀️

Kinks included: Daddy kink, impact play, slight exibitionism

You could hear the sound of the clown’s whining through the heavy doors that separated you from the boardroom. Rarely did meetings need to be hosted anywhere besides the new Guild ship, but Crocodile claimed he needed a break from the gaudy circus-inspired interior so he offered up his own ship. The three of them had been hold up there since before you were awake, having rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You had been milling around the doors, hoping they could at the very least call for a break so you could see him but as the hours stretched on you grew impatient.

Over the past few weeks he had been so caught up in his guild work that you had barely been able to see him, you were lucky if you were able to even get a few words in before he went to bed. Sometimes you even followed him to your shared bedroom, in hopes you could bother him for the quickest of quickies. But every time he would just pull you against his bare chest and fall asleep, barely a word spoken between you two. You understood he was tired, you were conscious that he had been working extremely long hours but it seemed as though you weren’t even there. And you intended to end that here and now.

You had put on an outfit you knew he was partial to, a black silky dress the fell to your mid thigh. It had black lace along the hem, neckline and the narrow straps, it was the simplest dress you owned but something about the way the fabric hugged your wide hips always made him go crazy. You had paired it with simple black boots that sat just below your knee, a gold SC could be seen on the back of the heel but other then that they were plain. You had gone to his private bar and poured him a glass of his favourite scotch in a crystal glass, along with a glass and bottle of red wine you knew would be up to Mihawk’s standards. For the clown you brought water, hoping the two would allow the poor thing to actually drink it.

With a deep breath you pushed opened the heavy door, feeling heat begin to radiate from between your legs as soon as you saw Crocodile, who’s head whipped to look at who had the audacity to interrupt. All eyes were on you, their conversation pausing as they took you in. “I know you’re busy, but I thought I’d bring you all something to drink to tide you over until dinner is ready.” You walked first to Mihawk’s side, setting the glass down in front of him and slowly pouring the wine for him, turning the bottle as you did so to avoid it dripping when you filled the glass halfway. You could feel the other two’s eyes scan over your body when you faced Mihawk, who’s eyes were shamelessly running up and down your form. “Thank you my dear, you’re so thoughtful.” His hand caught yours as you placed the bottle on the table, bringing your hand to his lips, his gaze averting from you to Crocodile’s. “You’ve got yourself quite the woman, Crocodile.” His lips moved against your hand in a way your body could hardly handle, finally allowing your hand to slip from his when the man across the table cleared his throat.

“I also brought Buggy water, but I can just put that here.” You placed the water next to Mihawk, hazarding a look at the clown who’s head sat at the end of the table, a prominent bump above his eyes and his blue tangled tresses surrounding him. You could tell he wanted to thank you, but he kept his mouth shut, only giving you a small nod so you knew he was grateful.

You picked up the glass you had left at the head of the table, walking around so you could place it on Crocdile’s right side, making sure to bend over the table as you slid the glass across the wooden surface. You knew if he tried he could easily see the hint of your purple panties, you picked them specifically to match the vest he was currently wearing, the white lace on the sems perfectly mimicking the piping that accented his outfit. “Can I bring anything else for any of you?” You couldn’t resist touching him, your hand running from his shoulder to behind his neck where you tried to card your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck before he fidgeted, his sign for you to get your hands away. With a huff you pulled your hand away, drawing your attention back to the other two men at the table.

“I’m quite alright, but thank you little rabbit.” Mihawk’s eyes held yours, the yellow rings of his iris making it difficult to tear your gaze away, but when you felt a hand on the back of your thigh your eyes moved without question to the man next to you.

“S-sir” Slipped from your lips in a breathy tone, half startled from the unexpected touch so close to where you needed him most. You looked at him, his brow knit together in irritation. “Can I bring you anything to eat?” He shook his head, blowing a cloud of smoke at you. He moved in his chair, bringing his leg to drape over his knee and god you wanted to sit in his lap, to feel his wide chest against your back, his hook running along your inner thigh, his fingers grazing over your covered core.

“No, go away, we have more work to do.” You wanted to fight it, argue that you had some use in this meeting, you knew that would at best be met with a laugh but that was unlikely. You wanted to kiss him, to leave a lipstick stain on his cheek that could be a silent reminder that you’d be waiting for him, but you knew that would be a mistake. So you walked out, pulling the doors closed behind you, only catching the cold words of Crocodile saying “Shut up” to something Mihawk must have said but you had missed.

You were yet to know whether your plan was a success so you made your way to his office, closing the door behind you and flicking on the dim light. You curled up in the green velvet loveseat he bought specifically for you. He always liked you having a place in his rooms, somewhere that you can stay when he wants you to be near him but still be able to get work done. You picked up the book you had left there from the last night you had tried to stay up late enough to see him, not knowing he was going to go straight to bed. Tonight wouldn’t be like that, you were determined to see him, the throbbing between your legs demanded it.

Just when you were thinking you were going to go find a different set of four walls to stare at, your book barely holding your attention anymore, you heard the sound of pristine dress shoes click against the wood floorboards. You froze, your book clutched in your hands to make it seem like you were reading and not just counting down the seconds until you hoped his meeting wrapped up. The door opened and there he was. You had to push the moan down that tried to bubble up just at the sight of him, it would have shown just how down bad you really were. As he closed the door his eyes landed on you and you tried desperately to act like you didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything to you right away, walking around his desk and sitting down with a new stack of papers he must have brought from the meeting. “You think you’re real clever don’t you?” He dug through his desk drawer before pulling out his monogrammed fountain pen, beginning to sign document after document, only stopping occasionally to read over whatever was written on it.

“I was just trying to be hospitable.” You peaked over the top of your book, noticing how his eyebrow twitched.

“You’re well on your way to a punishment if you keep that up.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You push yourself upright from the way you naturally slouched, stretching your legs out, the heels of your bare feet digging into the velvet, having taken your boots and knee highs off shortly after settling in to read. A deep chuckle falls from his lips, his shoulder shaking as he scrawls his signature on another dotted line.

“I can practically smell how wet you are from over here, but I’m not going to do anything about it until you can list off exactly what you did wrong.” The way in which he speaks to you is reminiscent of how someone might relay the weather, not as though he’s giving you instructions that only dampen your panties more.

“M-Maybe I’ll just go find Mihawk and see if he’ll help me. I am his rabbit after all.” Crocodile scoffed at your attempt to be smug, watching as you coyly crossed your ankles bringing his gaze down your pale legs to your freshly manicured toes before crawling back up to your face that you try to cover with your book that you’re clearly not actually reading. “Or maybe I’ll ask Buggy.” You allowed your eyes to flick up from the pages just in time to see the large man crunch his cigar between his molars.

“Go ahead, you’ll just come crying back to me when they can’t make you cum.” He shrugged, thumbing through the remaining papers in his pile of yet to be signed documents. The conversation died, you tried to go back to your book and he went back to his work. The sound of his ballpoint pen scratching against the paper was the only sound that filled the room. With every piece of paper he moved from his right to his left you hoped he would turn his attention to you, but he never did. You rub your thighs together looking for any kind of pressure to ease the pulsing between your legs but nothing seems to help.

”I-I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting.” The only sign that he heard you was a short hum that you knew as an affirmative sound.

“That’s one.”

“But you’ve been in meetings all month, I thought if you had the meeting here I could come see you more, I miss you.”

“No, your cunt misses me.” You had to clench your teeth together to stop the moan from pushing out of your parted lips at the mention of your cunt which was begging to be touched.

“So what if my cunt missed you, is that not enough?”

“Your cunt misses me the second I pull out, if I came to you every time she missed me, I’d get nothing done.” The way he spoke to you, spoke about you, never failed to make your cheeks burn but as the room fell silent again, and even the smell of his cigar, a habit that a few months ago you found disgusting now makes the throb between your legs excruciating. “I shouldn’t have bent over the table in front of you.” Your words were barely loud enough for him to hear but you knew he did. You hoped that that would be enough to appease him, enough to get him to give into you but you knew by the curt nod it wasn’t.

“There’s more to the list then that, but you’re doing better.”

“This isn’t fair.” You weren’t proud of the whiny tone your voice took on, but it had been weeks since you had sex, even longer since you had touched yourself, and this was pushing you beyond your limit.

“Quit your whining, I’ve told you what you need to do to get what you want, it’s not my fault you refuse to follow basic instructions.”

“I don’t know what else I did!”

“That’s not my problem.” You could hear the irritation that was bleeding into his tone, his eyebrows knit together as he ground what little of the cigar that was left between his teeth.

“Are you mad he kissed my hand? Mad that he called me his rabbit?” You tossed your book down by your feet, swinging your legs forward so they dangled just off the ground. “Mad that I brought Buggy water, or was it just the simple fact that I was there that bothered you so much?”

“I’m not playing this game with you, if you think those are the things you did wrong then just say that.” You let out a frustrated groan as you dug the heels of your palm into your eyes. You push yourself up to your feet, walking over to his desk and standing there waiting for him to notice you. He knows you’re there, you know he does, but his lack of acknowledgement makes you want to slam your hands on his desk in anger. “Please.” You whine.

“I’ve told you what you have to do, I’m not in the mood to make compromises.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“You can’t make up for something if you don’t know what that something is.” You wanted to leave, to turn on your heel and slam his office door behind you. You wanted to march up to your shared bedroom, shove your face into his pillow and finger fuck yourself enough times that the throbbing between your legs is replaced by the prickle of overstimulation, but you knew if you did that you would be facing an even worse punishment then this.

“Please Sir.” You watched as he slammed his hook in the desk, his gaze finally meeting yours, his dark eyes somehow even darker.

“There it is again.”

“I-I thought you liked it when I cal-“

“Enough.” He interrupted you, pushing himself to his feet finally. “First you allow him to touch you, to kiss you. Then you throw yourself at me in the middle of a meeting, when I’ve explicitly told you to never do that. You acted like a slut in front of my colleagues, you invade my office without permission, flaunting your greedy little cunt to me while I’m trying to work and now you have the audacity to beg.” He pulled the butt of his cigar out from between his teeth, stubbing it out in the ash tray on his desk. “I thought you were finally trained, then out of nowhere you act out like this.” He walked around the heavy oak desk, pausing only to drape his gray fur coat over the back of his chair before continuing around to tower over you. You try to take a step back, to put some distance between you two, reminded of the sheer power he wields over you, but he’s quick to hold you in place with his hook. “And now, after all that whining you finally get my attention and what, you try to back away from me?” He shakes his head at you, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” He doesn’t fight the wicked smile that spreads over his wide mouth as you shake your head, eyes wide. “Come now baby girl, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve had to punish you, you must remember”

“I-I don’t remember, really.” That was a lie, you knew exactly what was coming but you were living for this game you were playing. His aroma wrapped around you like vice, encompassing you completely in his colegn and the smell of his cigar, making your head swim.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you then, won’t I?” With a quick movement he shoved you into the densely cushioned high back of the loveseat. You quickly knocked your book on the ground, making sure it wasn’t going to get in the way of whatever was coming next. “I suppose no matter how well you train a bitch, she’ll eventually bite the hand that feeds her.” He made his way over to you, taking his time. He holds out his hand to you, palm upturned, his signal that he wanted you to remove his cufflink, a task that proved more difficult for him then he would ever admit.

You reach out, using both hands to guide the cufflink out from the French cuff before placing the small piece of gold that was shaped to into a crocodile head with tiny emerald eyes into his hand before rolling his sleeve up just above his elbow. When you were done you sat back on the chair, rubbing your thighs together as you waited for your next instructions. He brought a hand to your cheek and you braced for a swift smack, but it never came. Instead he cupped your cheek, his thumb running over your top lip, smearing the light pink lipstick onto your skin. You parted your lips, hoping he’d press his thick thumb into your mouth, but instead he slipped his hand down your face to your neck. His gaze fell to watch his hand tug gently at the golden chain that adorned your neck, it had been the first gift he gave you, something he insisted you wear at all times. It was simple, nothing overly complex or flashy, a buckle closure chainmail style gold necklace that sat at the base of your neck. Something that he often would idolly tug at, tightening the chain around your neck before releasing it. “Over the arm of the couch.” The words fell out of his mouth while he ran his hand over your neckline, the rough pads of his fingers following the fabric of your dress, toying with the thin strap before finally pulling away and stepping back.

You stood, stepping around Crocodile and laying over the arm of your loveseat. There was enough cushioning on it that it wasn’t overly uncomfortable but you knew the position wasn’t the punishment. He grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over you so it pooled just below the back of your bra, leaving your thighs, ass and lower back completely exposed. You knew when you heard the deep chuckle that he had noticed just how soaked your panties were, the sheer purple fabric leaving very little to the imagination even in the most pristine conditions, but you were confident that they were so wet the fabric was entirely see through. “Did you wear this outfit just to tempt me?” He ran a hand up the back of your thigh, grabbing the meat of your ass roughly.

“Y-yes.” You mumbled, face pressed into the velvet.

“What about these?” You felt the cool metal of his hook press right against your folds, the slick gathered there making the cool temperature of his golden hook even more noticeable. When you opened your mouth to speak, all you could do was moan, finally feeling his touch where you needed it the most.

“Yes, just for you.” He hummed approvingly, pulling his hook away from you with only a mild whine.

“Because you dressed so nicely for me, I’m feeling generous.” He ran his hand up over your ass and to your lower back, the pressure making your back arch more before he returned to your butt, grabbing the fat there. “I’m going to tell you all the things you did that pissed me off.”

“T-thank you, daddy.” He groaned at the name, you knew that was his favourite, always had been.

“And maybe next time, you’ll remember this and won’t do it again.” You nodded.

You heard the sound before you felt the sting of the first hit. The slap sound was loud enough to make you jump but he held you in place with his heavy hook that was pressing down on the small of your back. “That one’s for interrupting us.” This time you were ready for the impact, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “And that one’s for letting him touch you.” You yelped when his hand met your cheek again, the burn apparent even when his hand disappeared between hits. “And letting him kiss you.” You wanted to correct him, he kissed your hand, but you knew that would only anger him more. “This one is for touching me like that in front of my colleagues.” That one hurt. A long high pitched moan slipped from your lips as your fingers tried to find purchase on the velvet fabric beneath you. “Another for showing me these slutty panties when you knew I couldn’t touch them.” You’re sure your ass is beat red at this point, but the way he would rub a circle on the abused spot in between smacks fanned the flames of your arousal. “And this one, this one baby girl is for calling me Sir in front of them.” That one was the hardest by far, your body tensing from the impact, a yelp falling from your lips. “Do you know how hard hearing you say that made me?” He moved slightly, allowing himself to lean over you, his hook gone from your lower back and replaced with his arm hooking underneath your waist, his hand dangerously close to your cunt.

“I’m so sorry daddy, I just- I missed you so much.” Your eyes were welling with tears from the spanking but you could almost feel his erection against you.

“I know you did baby girl, I’ve missed you too. But you can’t interrupt me when I’m working.” He moved your hair to the side so he could press sloppy kisses along your shoulders. The moment his lips were on you you were a moaning mess. “You looked so pretty when you came into the room, in my favourite dress, all done up pretty for me.” You nodded “you know how much I love when you have your hair down.” Finally you felt it, his covered erection as he humped against your raised ass. “And the boots,” he groaned into the crook of your neck. “Next time you come into my office, I want you in nothing but those boots and your necklace.”

“Anything for you, daddy.” That sentance was incredibly difficult to get out between the flow of moans. “C-can you please fuck me?”

“I wish I could, baby girl.”

“Why can’t you?” You brokenly half sobbed.

“I have work to finish.” You could feel him begin to pull away, as though he just remembered the stack of paper he abandoned in order to punish you. He stood up, making sure to look at the bright red that adorned your ass before adjusting himself in his dress pants. You forced yourself off the arm of the couch, rubbing at the soon-to-be bruise that would be across your stomach, your dress falling back down as you straightened. He was walking back around his desk before you had a chance to touch him, knowing that if you could rope him into a kiss that work wasn’t going to get done tonight.

He sat heavily in his desk chair, picking his pen up against and reading over the paper he had in front of him. You stood next to the couch, balling the hem of your dress in your fists as you tried to decide what to do next. “Is it that bad?” He sighed, looking up at you while he snipped the end of fresh cigar before holding it between his teeth to light it. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together to emphasize your point. “Come here.” He pushed his chair back a bit as you walked around the desk. “You’re going to have to entertain yourself while I finish this up.” You nodded, noticing how he angled his leg out from under his desk. You knew what he was offering. At this point you were so desperate you would have taken anything, you’d hoped for his cock but you would have been content with his hook, but yet, you were left with his thigh. But you could make it work.

You straddled his thigh, grabbing his dress pants as much as you could as you rutted against him slowly, getting closer to him until you could rest your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t stop the breathy moan that slipped through your parted lips. The feeling of having anything rubbed against your folds felt heavenly, even if it was just his slender thigh clad in expressive dress pants. The smell of him was intoxicating, leaned your head against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his bicep, thankful for his hooked hand that supported you as you rutted against him, moans and breathy whines flowing out of your mouth as easily as your slick had gathered. “How’s that feel, baby girl?” You knew it was taking all the willpower he had to keep working and not to just sit and watch you hump his leg in desperation.

“G-good, it’s good.” You pinched your eyes closed trying to focus on the high that seemed to be alluding you.

“Only good?”

“I can think of a few other things that would feel better.” You were surprised you even managed to get that sentence out between your breathy moans.

“Oh yeah, why don’t you tell me some?” You should have known he was going to say that. You could hear him scribbling his signature on paper after paper, not taking as much time to review whatever it was before signing it.

“Your fingers, your hook-“ his hook slipped from your hip and ran along your bare thigh, prematurely ending your sentence with a surprised moan. “Your your tongue, god, your face.” Something halfway between an uh huh and a groan came from beside you as you humped against his thigh, your nails digging into his arm as you tried to steady yourself now that his hook was running up and down your thigh. “Your cock.”

“Thought you almost forgot that one.” He let out a low chuckle before you heard his pen hit the desk followed by the feeling of his hand on your head. “Take that dress off, give me something to watch.” He leaned back in his chair as you pulled the silk garment over your head, tossing it beside you. Your bra was next to follow, quickly joining the dress on the ground. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his grey ones as he puffed out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth. “I think you’ve worked hard enough to get a little reward.” You were nodding before he was even done his sentance. “Stand up for me” Your legs were a bit shakey when you stood up off his thigh but when he offered you his hook for support it was much easier to move from his thigh to stand between his spread legs. “Let’s get these off, shall we?” He grabbed your panties and yanked them down your legs, impatience clear in his movements. You stepped out of them, kicking them in the vague direction of the rest of your clothes before you leaned into his large chest. You pulled the cigar from his mouth, placing it on the ash tray before wrapping your hands around his neck and carding them through in his longer hair.

Your lips were on his and all seemed right in the world again. It was crazy to think that you didn’t remember the last time the two of you had shared a passionate kiss like this. The silk of his vest was a nice contrast to the heat your body was radiating as his hand slid down and between your legs. “Do you know how badly I wanted to just slip my fingers between your legs when you interrupted our meeting?” His first finger slipped right in, no resistance, nothing, as though your body was begging for him. You could feel his ring slip inside, your slick gathering along the golden band. “I wanted you to stand there and take it, maybe even bend over the table so I could see your greedy little hole swallow my fingers.” He guided your head onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his neck and shoulder as you moaned against him. “Would you have liked that? If Mihawk and the clown watched you get finger fucked by me?” You nodded before a strangled yes was able to slip out. He pressed another thick finger into your hole, the squelching sound they were making as he fucked into you was bordering on pornographic, and your stream of moans wasn’t helping that image either. “Maybe they’re still here, should I call them in to watch how I can make you beg?” You shook your head, unable to get the word out. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you so wet.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your neck.

His thick fingers were fucking into you, the slapping was becoming louder, if that was even possible. “You’ve lasted longer than I expected.”

“You h-haven’t said I can c-u-um yet.”

“There’s my well trained girl. Are you close?” You answer him with a broken sob, and normally he would make you work for it, make you beg. But he takes pity on you, his own erection becoming irritating so in interest of progressing the night he huskily whispers “Cum for me, baby girl.” And you do. A crashing wave of pleasure washes over you. You’re sure that if he hadn’t been holding you upright you could have crumbled at his feet. His fingers kept moving instead of you, slowing down but not ready to pull out yet. When he finally does, nudging his shoulder to get your attention as he licks the digits, knowing how much you like to see him taste you in any capacity. Your eyes are glued to how his tongue moves, and he’s very aware of that fact. “Do you wanna taste yourself?” You nodded, opening your mouth so he could push his fingers inside.

The taste of your own arousal filled your mouth, and at the same time the fingers in your mouth were forcing you to your knees, pushing down with enough force on your tongue to get the message across.

You could smell his musk before your fingers were able to work the button of his pants open. As you fumbled with deft fingers you looked up at him, his big hand running through your hair, a cascade of smoke flowing from his mouth. “What I wouldn’t do to have you sit between my legs like this every guild meeting.” When his pants were open you quickly drew his cock and balls from inside, a motion that had become quite practiced after knowing Crocodile as long as you had.

With one hand wrapped around the girthy base, you pull it forward enough that you could lick a long strip to his engorged head before encircling it with your lips. “I think you can fit more of me between those pretty lips, don’t you?” The hand that was on your head started pushing you down, inch by inch you got closer to his well kept dark curls. When you got just over half of him down your throat you could feel your body begin to reject the intrusion, drool spilling from your mouth in amounts you found disgusting but he found thrilling. He knew if you ever stopped allowing yourself to be pushed down anymore you were at your limit. Instead of pushing he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you off his cock.

Your chin and lips were covered in shiny spit, your lipstick smeared and your eyeliner smudged from your tears. To him, there were few times you looked better than this. “I think you’re out of practice.” You nodded, your mind clouded by your arousal. “Let’s try again, shall we?” Again you nodded, resting your hands on either thigh, noticing the wet spot on his left thigh from where you had ground against him.

A knock at the door seemed to startle both of you, but lucky for you, Crocodile was great at problem solving, specifically when it came to how he can keep his cock in your mouth. He ushered you under his desk, pulling his chair in close so you weren’t visible. “It’s me.” A voice you instantly recognized as Mihawk’s came from the other side of the door with a second knock, if you hadn’t been as close to Crocodile you would I have missed the groan that he quickly muffled with a cough.

“Yeah yeah, come in.” The cigar was back between his teeth, the pen in his hand, as though Mihawk had just walked in on him actually working. You could hear the door open, and quiet footsteps towards you.

“Did you have a chance to look everything over?”

“Yeah, just finished.” With your limited space you couldn’t move up high enough on your knees to swallow him entirely, so you were stuck just mouthing at his shaft, licking at the drips of pre cum as they slid down from his head.

“Thank you, I didn’t realize how much it was until after the meeting.” Crocodile hummed. “Unfortunately, I have more.” You heard more paper being put down on the oak desk and a groan of irritation from the man who’s cock you wanted to choke on. There was a silence that hung in the air and you couldn’t tell what was happening, which drove you crazy. “I think you should host more of our meetings, it was a much needed change of scenery from the atrocious ship that carries our flag.” Crocodile scoffs, and you can’t tell if it’s to cover up a pleasurable sound or if it was the real reaction to the sentence. You wondered if Mihawk could pick up on the smell of sex, to you it was all you could smell.

“Why don’t we go to your ship if the only reason is a change of pace?”

“Because, unfortunately I don’t have an attractive little rabbit to bring me wine at the drop of a hat. So I believe I prefer it here”

“Too bad I don’t have a little rabbit to bring you wine either, a shame really.” You could practically picture his face, an eyebrow cocked, cigar held tightly between his teeth, his nose scrunched in disgust at the thought of Mihawk giving his property such a ill suited pet name. You continued to leave sloppy kisses to the underside of his cock, occasionally running your tongue along the crest just under his head, noticing the way it bobbed when you did.

“Where is she, I’d hate to leave without showing her how grateful I was for that wine to get me through a rather dull meeting.”

“I can pass the message along to her.” You had begun nipping at his heavy balls, your hand working his shaft without getting too close to the head, worried you might bump against the table and give yourself away.

“I’d prefer to see her myself.”

“I’m sure you would, but she’s busy.” You could hear the smirk on his face and the air grew thick with silent again. You assumed Mihawk was scanning the room, eventually noticing the pile of clothes next to Crocodile’s desk, piecing everything together rapidly. You wished you could see his expression, see how his ringed eyes widened for half a second before bringing his expression back to placid.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” The quiet footsteps retreated to the door before you heard the door close again.

Crocodile pushed his chair from the desk, giving you enough room to crawl out from your spot. Before he could try to speak you were swallowing his cock just how you had tried to before being shoved under the desk. You had barely been at it for 5 minutes and your jaw was already starting to get sore but you couldn’t stop. You stroked whatever you couldn't fit into your mouth, which was progressively getting less and less but you were interrupted by his hand pulling you up by your hair. “I don’t plan on wasting my seed in your mouth.” Which was his way of saying you were doing too good of a job.

“Did he know?” Your voice was a bit gravelly but as he pulled you upright by your hair he smiled.

“Would you like it if he had?” Your lack of an answer was all he needed. “Should I call him back to watch?” He pulled the cigar from his mouth, putting it in his ashtray again before standing up. “Get on the desk, princess. I’m gonna’ make it all up to you.” You leaned back against the edge of the desk, struggling slightly for a second before you were able to scoot back further, spreading your legs as you leaned back, being mindful of the newest stack of papers.

He dragged his hook up your stomach, circling your nipples with the curved part of his hook watching with a smirk at how you arched into his touch, catching your lip between your teeth to try and hold back your whines. He slowly stroked his cock with his other hand, watching how your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to catch your breath but with no luck. “I bet you wish he could see you now, hm?” You tried to look away from him but he was quick to guide your face back towards him with his hook. “I bet you got so wet when he called you his little rabbit.” You shook your head weakly. “Would you prefer to be splayed out on his desk?” You shook your head again, more sure this time. “No?” His hook slid down your body again, the curved back sliding between your folds as you bucked up to chase the pressure.

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Who do you want to be with?”

“You.” He hummed, his grip on his cock tightened and his strokes slowed to a near stop.

“And who’s cock do you want?”

“Your’s.”

“Show me how wet you are.” Holding yourself as steady as you could on one elbow you used your other hand to dive between your folds. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were, your slick pooling around your worked open entrance, but you know Crocodile found you the most attractive when you were splayed open and sopping wet. You finger fucked your self for a second, trying to gather as much slick as you could before pulling your digits out, separating them so Crocodile could see your arousal webbed between them. “And who got you this wet?”

“You.” You were getting annoyed with his questions, you gaze struggling to meet his instead of looking down at his cock.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” There was irritation in his inflection, he took pressing into your chest to push you down flat against the desk.

“I-I just w-want you to fuck me.” He dragged his burning hot cock along your folds, watching it glide with extreamly ease through your slick but never pushing against your entrance, much to your frustration.

“You know giving me attitude isn’t how you get what you want, unless what you’re hoping for is more neglect.” He continued rubbing his cock between your folds, the sight of his size compared to you never ceased to concern you, despite having been fucked by him countless times you always had the concern of what if it doesn’t fit?

“Daddy please.” His hook slid down your body, wrapping around your left thigh to pull it open even more, pulling your foot up to perch on the edge of the desk for leverage. His other hand abandoned his cock to grab your right thigh and press it against your chest, giving him more control over you as he pressed his cock into you finally.

The stretch always burned, whether you hadn’t had sex in weeks or less than 24. For all Crocodile is, ruthless, greedy, cruel, he was extremely conscious of his size in comparison to yours. When you bared your teeth at the stretch he leaned over you, pausing halfway inside of you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shushing you. “You’re doing so good for me, just relax.” His voice was quiet, this tone was one reserved only for you.

“It’s b-been so long it hurt-s.” You pinched your eyes closed, feeling tears prick at the corners.

“I know princess, I know. Just relax and I’ll go real slow, we have all the time in the world.” His hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit in hopes of getting you more wet and distracting you from the discomfort. “You’re such a good girl for daddy.” He pressed his hips into you again, slowly. You could feel every inch of him bully its way into your body until his head was pressed against your cervix, finally fully inside. “Look how good you’re doing, how’s that feel?” His forehead was pushed against your’s, his eyes glued to your expression, waiting for you to open your eyes. You could smell his smoke on his breath mixed with his expensive scent, you could feel his warm breath puff out over your face as you slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was his scar, stretched over the bridge of his nose, then you finally met his grey eyes that were glued to you. “How’s it feel?” He repeated, this time a bit more stern.

“It’s getting better.” he hummed in acknowledgment.

“Suppose I should do something to distract you, what do you think?” You nodded, your doe eyes making him want to ravage you but he forced himself to hold back, admitting to himself that it had, in fact, been quite a while since you two had had sex and he knew his size was a struggle for someone half his size. “Lean back for me, baby girl.” He straightened up enough to prompt you to lay back, your hands out at your sides waiting for his next move.

With his cock still nestled inside your tight walls he leaned forward again, lips pressing kisses from your belly button to your clavicle, before branching off and trailing kisses to your nipple. You expected him to run his tongue over the hard bud, to tease you until you were writhing on the desk, but instead he sucked on it, drawing cries from your lips. He could feel you relax around him and all he wanted to do was throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you so hard he would have to carry you everywhere with him. But he resisted. Upon instinct, hands grabbed his head keeping him close to your chest as he suckled. Your fingers carded through his slicked back hair, something you rarely ever got to do, especially not during sex. But you had been such a good girl, he would let you have this one.

“D-daddy I think-“ You got caught off by him pulling his cock out, not entirely but enough that a high pitched gasp slipped from your lips and cut your sentence off prematurely.

”What was that?” He released your nipple and pulled away from your skin, your arms opting to move to his neck rather than letting him go completely.

“I need you t-to move, p-please.” He obligated, slowly thrusting back into you, hoping you weren’t still uncomfortable but taking it slow on the off chance you were.

“How’s that feel, princess” You took a deep breath, your head lolling backwards.

”Feels so good, daddy, so good.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” You shook your head, your arms slipping from around his neck as he stood up straight, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, the other dangling limply off the desk. ”Good, now I want you to do something for me.” He leisurely fucked you, enjoying how your walls no longer resisted his intrusion.

“Anything.”

“I want you to be as loud as you want, let that pesky Mihawk know whose cock you want.” You loved when he was possessive of you, you wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he called Mihawk in to watch him fuck you, and frankly, you wouldn’t have protested that in the least. ”Think you can handle that?” You nodded, a breathy yes the only thing you could really manage. The small part of your brain that wasn’t lost in the pleasure of Crocodile’s cock finally fucking into you wondered if Mihawk really was still around, if he actually would hear you. But that part of your brain wasn’t able to function for much longer once you were put into a mating press.

Your moans flowered from your open mouth like the sound of rushing water from a river. He always tried to muffle his own sound, pressing his face into your neck when he felt his own peak rapidly approaching. “Fuck princess, never felt a cunt like yours.” The desk was shaking from his strength, the stack of papers beside you was beginning to shift.

“Croc-co, fuck it f-feels so good!” You wrapped your arms around his wide back, digging your nails into the expensive silk back of his vest. He was past the point of his toying, unable to put together a sentence the only sounds coming out of his mouth were animalistic grunts into your neck.

“Gonna’ fill you up so good, do you want that baby girl, do you want me to fill that greedy little cunt of yours?” You tried to speak but every time you opened your mouth all that came out were a slew of moans. His hand slid down your thigh and found its way to your clit, his thumb rubbing it in uneven circles as his cock pressed against your cervix repeatedly. “Are you going to cum?” He lifted his head from your neck so he could see you, see your cock drunk expression as you nodded. “Ask me for it.”

“D-daddy daddy please, please let me cum, I wanna cum around your cock!” Your words were sloppy and punctuated by moans but it seemed to appease him. His thrusts changed, his pace uneven and the force was enough to knock the stack of papers off the desk, not their either of you noticed.

He came first but the feeling of warmth that spread through you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit was enough to force you over the edge seconds after. Your back arched off the table, your toes pointed and tensed around his shoulders. There was no doubt in your mind that if Mihawk were still aboard he was extremely aware of what was going on in this office.

Crocodile’s thrusts slowed until eventually he stilled. You were trying to catch your breath but it seemed impossible, especially with the weight of his entire body on top of you. You wanted to move, to pull your legs off his shoulders but you didn’t want to risk him getting up and going back to work. He didn’t stay on top of you for long, eventually straightening up and looking you up and down, all while his cock was still nestled between your walls.

He reached for his cigar, bringing it to his lips and pulling hard on it, hoping some of the embers would flare to life again. He guided your legs off his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your ankles as he did so. As he pulled his cock from your cunt slowly, he watched as his cum began to work its way out of you. Idolly as he stood over you, cigar in his mouth he ran his big fingers in the milky liquid that was cascading from your fucked hole, almost trying to push it back into you.

You still were out of it, your hips bucking from overstimulation anytime he grazed your clit. “Do you feel better, baby?” He wiped his fingers on your thigh before cupping your cheek, pulling your unfocused gaze to him. You blinked a few times, trying to unblur your eyes as you nodded.

“I think I may need you to carry me to bed.” He chuckled, stepping away from you for the first time since you had come over to his desk. He picked up your discarded clothes before returning to his spot between your legs, taking a second to stuff his cock back into his slacks and do them up again. Carefully and with great care he guided you into a sitting position and helped you pull your dress over your head, leaving your panties, bra and socks on his desk before picking you up bridal style. You leaned against his chest as he carried you out of the office, the steady sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Sleep that you were quickly pulled from. “I take it the second stack of papers has yet to be looked at?” You heard the faint sound of a wine glass being placed on the board room table as you passed by the open doors. Crocodile paused in the doorway, turning to look at him for a second before smirking,

“Let me put my little rabbit to bed then I’ll go look at them.”

#sir crocodile #one piece smut #ao3 #ao3 author #one piece #sir crocodile smut #sir crocodile x reader #cross guild

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rinachains · 24 hours

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wc: 1.2k

contents: sukuna x gn!reader, established relationship, a bit of angst and fluff; modern!au (no curses), sukuna can't say sorry for his life, but both of you kind of suck at communicating lol

a/n: aghhh, this is the first drabble I'm posting on here, so bear with me :)

You knew from the start that a relationship with Sukuna wouldn't exactly be conventional. Being with someone like him didn't promise an easy, smooth ride, but you knew what you were getting into. And it wasn't like you were someone who was easy to handle either.

Sukuna and you were basically like two peas in a pod- you would snicker and roll your eyes at others, exchange brash comments, crude words spilling from your sly mouths. It made you giddy. He was anything but a prince charming - if anything, he was more of a villain. But ever since you were a child, you felt more drawn to the antagonists, believing them to have a certain charm that captivated you.

A match made in hell, your friends would jokingly say. The two of you weren’t particularly good people and perhaps that’s why you were so good for each other. After all, they do say that two negatives make a positive.

Your very first interaction consisted of you scowling at him and saying that he was ‘an embarrassing asshole trying to compensate for something he clearly lacks'. On that day - which you remembered more than well - you were in a café with your friend, and as you were on your way out, he bumped into both of you, causing your friend to spill her coffee on herself. Instead of apologizing, he just gave her a dirty look and started walking away before you stopped him and started berating him.

From that moment on, Sukuna was a goner. Of course, at first he was just irritated and annoyed by your audacity, but thoughts of you quickly consumed his mind afterwards, which in turn made him despise you even more. Only he didn't really hate you - the line between hatred and appreciation was thin for Sukuna, blending into a confusion of emotions that made it difficult for him. But Sukuna was not one to shy away from challenges, the longing for intensity was deeply rooted in his body.

Sukuna didn’t have a normal perception of love. To him, love was a nuisance and useless. But he found you interesting. There was an intensity to you that matched his own, that he could relish. You were unafraid to show yourself, indifferent towards the opinion of others, too headstrong for your own good. And you understood him, in a twisted way. And he was able to understand you. Maybe that was what he needed this whole time – an equal. Someone who didn’t hold back and wouldn’t try to make him hold back.

When you finally started going out, which was a silent procedure since you two didn’t use the words ‘dating’ or ‘going out’, there was a surprising harmony between you. Meaningful conversations formed easily, playful quips and taunting inbetween, keeping each other on your toes, and there were moments of silence that you basked in, not feeling the need to fill it with unneccesary words. It was comfortable; like the spring breeze, promising something new, something fresh, but still holding an air of familiarity, bringing in a sense of comfort. Until then, Sukuna had never believed that he would ever experience anything like this. Sometimes he thought you were just a figment of his imagination, a product of the loneliness that had clung to him all his life.

So when Sukuna first saw the tears in your eyes (the same ones he always unconsciously looked for, no matter where you were), standing out so brilliantly against your glassy eyes that he felt like he was going blind, and had to resist the urge to turn his own away from them, he also felt overwhelmed for the first time. It didn't help that those tears were forming because of him, a reaction to his words leaving his mouth. It was a thoughtless remark on his part, said out of a moment of disdain, which wasn't necessarily anything new, but this time it obviously hit something deep inside you, and Sukuna knew he’d screwed up. Badly.

He never thought twice about something he said, especially when it was something harsh, simply disregarding the consequences of his hurtful words. So why did he suddenly have this heavy feeling forming in his chest, making it hard to breathe? This bitter taste in his mouth?

Sukuna remained silent, his face unreadable and blank like a sketch where the artist had not drawn a face but only the outline of a head. As he stared at you, your cheeks flushed blotchy and you tried to swallow the embarrassment creeping up your throat, blinking a few times to clear the wetness in your eyes.

You didn't want to be weak in front of him – that’s not who you were. You always prided yourself on not showing weakness in front of others, but at the end of the day, you were only human. What if he left you, now that you got this emotional? What if he decided you were too weak, too big of a nuisance to be with? You destroyed the perception he had of you, you were sure of that.

Silence hung over you like a heavy blanket, trapping you both and making it hard to move. What exactly were you waiting for? For him to apologize? Words like ‘sorry’ never rolled smoothly over your tongue, your own pride and discomfort holding you back. So how could you expect that from him? You didn’t truly know what you wanted. Perhaps reassurance? A sign that he didn’t think any less of you now? That he didn’t mean what he said?

After a few seconds (which felt like minutes, even hours) had passed, you cleared your throat, eyes flickering to the the clock hanging on the wall behind him. You were running late for work.

“I have to go now”, you managed to breathe out, voice slightly scratchy from holding down your emotions.

“Right.”

There was no goodbye following your departure. Sukuna was left with an empty feeling in his chest, his hand reaching out to grab at it. He hated it.

By the time you got home around 8pm, exhaustion was present in your bones, your body weak and head foggy. Being away for a few hours helped you calm down and get a clearer head, although the embarrassment still seemed to cling to you. Should you just pretend nothing happened? Ignore him? Be cold towards him? You didn't really want to talk about it, you were too tired from the day, from everything.

But as you hung up your coat, with conflicting thoughts running through your heavy head, a smell you knew only too well reached your nose and caught your attention: it was your favorite food. Sukuna has cooked it for you a few times before; each time he has grumbled about how long it takes to make and that some of the ingredients are crazy expensive - he never said it was too difficult for him though, he can make any dish, in his eyes there is no complicated one.

The special thing was that you never had to tell him out loud that it was your favorite dish, he just guessed it from your reaction every time you ate it. The moment you smelled his cooking and heard the clink of dishes being placed on the table where you shared every meal, you knew immediately - that was his way of apologizing.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #angst #fluff #modern au #ryomen sukuna x reader #drabble #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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angel-calypso · 3 days

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oh i need one with erik🫦 where y/n thinks he and raven have something and she gets really sad and heartbroken… (I leave the ending to you) (srry english not my first language)

i hope this is sorta what you were asking!!! i did my best 😽

Mistaken part one

i really loved writing this. but be mindful it's my first work in probably over two years since school ended for me. i tried my best so sorry if it's not up to standards i'll get back in soon. I also don't have a laptop, so this is all being typed out in my phone and edited. I'm so sorry if there's mistakes i'm trying my best i swear

erik lehnsherr x reader. not sure if there's any warnings or triggers. just a heartbroken reader for a tad. hope you all enjoy. it is part one, i'm working two jobs right now and im going to try and put out part two soon

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the mansion. Charles had invited you to stay with the team after you had helped them on a mission. You hadn't known there were other people like yourself. Mutants. You always thought it was a derogatory word, but when you had stumbled upon the team fighting some lunatic, you had seen how beautiful and powerful the word mutant could be. You were seven when your mutation appeared. It allows you to control plants, dirt, small pebbles, you could feel the Earth in your veins. Since moving in, Hank has studied you, absolutely fascinated with your mutation, as he is with all of theirs.

The first couple days, you kept to yourself. Keeping quiet during dinners, just observing and listening. occasionally someone would ask you a question. Normally Erik, who seemed to always be wanting to know more about you. He would smile at you, always ready to start a conversation. Eventually, with time, you found yourself invited to Charles' office at night, having a drink and watching him and Erik play chess. You grew incredibly fond of these nights. The three of them were laughing and talking into the late hours of the night. Sometimes you would fall asleep there, but seemed to somehow always wake up in your bed. As you grew to love those nights, you found yourself falling in love with Erik. His beautiful eyes that followed you everywhere you went, the way he would catch your eye and walk over to you every time. The morning tea and lunch picnics. You had just barely started convincing yourself that maybe, he felt the same. that maybe you had a real chance at something with him.

“you know, we outta teach you how to play darling.” Charles pulled you out of your thoughts one night. They had been in silence for a few minutes, awaiting his next move. You had been watching intently trying to balance your thoughts, the game, and if you were honest the occasional stare at Erik. The way he sat calmly in the back of his chair, holding his drink in one hand and tapping his armrest with the other. Plotting his moves. He always looked so handsome in the warm light of the office. The drinks are always getting to you, always having to stop yourself from reaching out and taking his hand.

“I'd much rather watch you two play.” You had finally pulled your eyes off of Erik to look at Charles with his knowing smile. you blushed slightly, hoping charles wasn't in your head, always forgetting of the telepath. Erik laughed unaware of the interaction between the two.

“I think y/n would have you beat Charles” Erik chimed in. You smiled, sometimes you thought he thinks too highly of you.

“Yeah right, she'd be too distracted,” Charles playfully scoffed. At this you asked if they needed another drink. She got up, noticed the bottle was left in the kitchen tonight, and walked out with hers and Erik's cup. When you came back, you noticed a new arrival had joined them for the first time. You hadn't met her yet but assumed it to be Raven, Charles’ sister. She had been on a mission for the last couple months. you would've loved meeting her, if it wasn't for the sight you walked in on leaving your heart in your stomach. Raven was hugging Erik, her legs wrapped around him. You didn't hear anything being said, the blood rushing through your ears a loud roar. But you had seen enough. You walked over to your seat. Charles knew something was off, you begged him not to be in your mind for this. you hoped he wouldn't. You didn't notice upon seeing you, Erik grew the biggest smile, almost immediately letting go of Raven and whispering to her. She also smiled, putting her hand out to you.

“you must be y/n!!! I'm Raven, I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad to meet you! “ Under other circumstances you would've loved meeting her, finally meeting charles’ sister he would always talk about. But the tinge of seeing her all over Erik tainted the meeting. You told her it was nice to meet her, sending her a small smile while shaking her hand. It wasn't her fault. You let go and hand Erik his drink.

“Thank you Meine Liebe” You would normally love and melt at this, Erik had fooled you. You just nodded your head. you were willing yourself not to cry just yet. The stinging in your eyes daring to disobey you. A few minutes go by and you excuse yourself off to bed. Before anyone could say anything you were out the door.

translations Meine liebe- My love in german

I know i know, it's pretty short. I'll work on part two as quickly as i can. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in part 2!!!

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto #x men #x men first class #charles xavier #magneto x reader #charles xavier x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader x charles xavier #x men apocalypse #x men au #x men movies #x men comics #x men x reader #i don't know what else #x reader

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sirwhistledown · 2 days

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★ summary — during a sweltering day at the horse races, anthony bridgerton finds himself rather enchanted by a sharp-witted, and competitive newcomer... however his greatest challenge turned out not quite to be their playful banter but perhaps something deeper than just that. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem! reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.8k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff? not really. idiots in love except they don't know they're in love...? anthony being anthony?? ★ authors note: excuse my god horrendous writing, i fear i have just come back from a 2 year hiatus and well.. it seems as if all my writing sense have bene diminished into the ends of the earth. also mutuals. i need mutuals please, i need to be insane to someone.

Anthony always enjoyed a heartfelt competition.

Perhaps a bit too much for the likings of others, but it always seemed to be infused with his blood. It all came so naturally to him; there was no need to try. As a young boy, he would compete with his brothers, Benedict having quite a hearty laugh when he would fail to beat him in whatever makeshift game they conjured up. It made it worse for the already tense gentleman because his annoying, bothersome brother would never stop bringing out how he was younger than Anthony during such times.

But he was not a quitter. He never was, and he decided that he never shall be. Anthony perpetually told himself that, and the results always ended up in his favor at the end of the day. Just as victory appeared within his reach, he let it go once more, easily slipping through his fingers in the subsequent round. Anthony has always been perplexed as to why this pattern only ever appeared to surround him or why he only noticed it within himself far too much.

It seemed quite the same when it came to his love life as well. Taking away the winning part—he never quite seemed to win. Conceivably, Anthony never thought he could truly love someone with his entire being; the sensation felt so foreign and despicable to think about. An acquaintance, he supposed, was something he could settle with. And yet, an admirable acquaintance proved hard to find in this economy. The number of women that lined up for a dance, a date—whatever it may be, were all too simple-minded, credulous, or even dumb, if Anthony really thought about it. None of them appeared to be a suitable partner.

Those thoughts haunted him day and night throughout the season—the wonder if he’ll ever meet anyone well-suited for him, he pondered to himself. Anthony deemed himself rather fortunate that he was a busy man, bustling about a handful of places in need to complete the tasks firsthand. When he had his hands full with some problem, even if it may be pointless, occupied his mind enough for him to forget about his marital issues. Taxation never seemed more interesting to him.

Conversely, he found that it bothered him most during social events. Whereas his problems stood face-to-face against him, sometimes it felt as if it were a direct punch to the gut. With the remaining eligible ladies dwindling, his temper for it all only grew to being far more annoyed than anything else. Any other year, Anthony would’ve respectively enjoyed the horse race that he attended within the company of his brothers, but at this time, his mind had been elsewhere as he mindlessly stumbled his way around the course grounds.

There were a number of people that stood around him, chatting expressively with one an

other. Ladies whispering in hushed tones, their husbands gathered amongst themselves, likely betting against one another. Anthony couldn’t help but to do so himself—a solid bet did him well most days. Although, perhaps, he wasn’t the brightest when it came to the subject despite betting upon the favoured horse.

Anthony tugs heartily at his neckpiece, adjusting the pressure against his throat as it pressed in such a peculiar way that he began to pay some mind to it. He adjusted it so that it was allowed to rest lightly, not entirely choking him out anymore as it had done just moments ago. The effort ended up being weirdly abominable.

Peeved, bothered, and sweaty, he decided sullenly the lemonade that the event offered would not be such a bad idea to him after all. Refreshing was the only word that happened to catch his mind as he politely hurries his way towards where the stand had caught his eye as he made his way into the event. It seems as if half of the people there had a similar idea, heeding from the lengthiness of the line. He could perhaps find some place else to get some refreshments, but if Anthony is being honest, the idea of continuing to walk in this heat whilst unknowing if there even was anything waiting for him out there, wasn’t one that he would immediately jump to. And so he begrudgingly waits.

The sun beats down harshly upon him, and he tirelessly slides off his top-hat to appease the sweat that had begun to cling onto the sides of his forehead. Anthony dabs the beads away silently with the cuff of his coat when no one else is paying any mind to him. He liked to call himself fortunate as the line dissipates fairly quickly, and it is only a few minutes later when he finds himself nearing the refreshments area.

“Cooling, is it not?”

It takes Anthony a beat to realize that the sudden intrusion of the voice is addressed towards him. He swivels his head, pivoting himself so he can adjust to the sudden change in position to locate where the sound had come from. He is quick to answer the question as the fine-looking lady standing next to him stares right back into his betrothed soul.

First impressions always stuck near and dear to Anthony, and while usually it would be noted of their personality and not much else, he finds himself in a different situation to the norm. The first thing he notices happens to be the alluring eyes, mysterious with a gaze that would unsettle any person, man or woman. But the expression read differently, a polite smile stretched upon the delicate skin, her fair hair conditioned beautifully for this particular sunny day. Anthony is quick to return the smile, as he had done so many times before in the past. He could regard it as a daily occurrence now.

“Indeed, it is.” His response is considerate, his voice moderately even; it’s as if he were trained for this. And Anthony supposed he quite literally is trained for it. “Especially on a day as sweltering as this.”

He can faintly hear in the background a man grumbling incoherently about keeping up the line, and he apologetically (although he doesn’t feel very apologetic) responds to the not-so gentleman behind him. He hastily picks his glass, an internal groan erupting in him when a couple of drops spill onto the earthly grass. At least it had avoided his clothing by its means. Anthony had already begun to walk away, lemonade secured, when he noticed the same lady who had engaged him in a brief conversation engaging in the same direction that he was headed.

“Such events are quite amusing,” Her words are delicate, but they are firm enough for Anthony to know that she stands her ground. She stands ever so beautifully, firm but beautiful, letting her dress flutter slightly into the soft breeze that washes over the course. “I can not say that they were common in my homeland.”

Ah. So that is why Anthony failed to recognize her—a new citizen, or possibly just visiting some family for the season. After all, Mayfair was quite prestigious in its ways if you stood in the high rankings. “So I take that you are not from here?” He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

The lady shakes her head, the hair atop her head bouncing as she does so. “Not quite.” She responded appropriately. She rattles off some place that Anthony had surely never been before, and he nods upon hearing the answer. "I am here visiting, as my cousin kindly offered to host me, and who am I to decline such a gracious invitation?"

The words rolled sweetly off her tongue, as if she were making a harmonious melody. Certainly a clever tongue in her mouth, Anthony could think to himself. “Well then, I must certainly assume that you are here for the season.”

It was an honest question. The lady looked to be in her earlier years of life, if Anthony really had to make a guess. Fair skin, beautiful features, and a voice as gorgeous as the waves in the ocean—what else would she be doing in Mayfair at this time of the year? It only seemed reasonable to make that assumption. He stands correct when she pushes her head down as an agreement, “Yes.” She says, yet she pauses for a beat before continuing her sentence, "Though I must say, it is quite a considerable departure from what I am accustomed to back home.”

"In a manner most agreeable, I trust?" Anthony says, and the lady smiles approvingly. It was quite a sugary smile, the sort that sat well within the presumably older man. It looked as if the course grounds had gotten crowded by tenfold since Anthony had turned his back, making the exertion towards the stands much harder than what it should’ve been.

“Well, yes.” Whereas, the tone of her voice contradicted what her words have stated. The lady’s eyebrows furrow for a mere moment, as if he were contemplating something of sorts. “Nevertheless, it is quite hard.”

He inclines his head. Anthony could somewhat agree with her words—the season was always stressful, a throatful of things to stress and worry about, a million matters to perfect to attract the best of the best. He had never felt too stressed, perhaps when he was swarmed with tasks to complete for the up-and-coming ball or party, but never on his performance at such events. Anthony believed that is why he suddenly threw himself in as an eligible bachelor, and the best if he may add, was so diminishing. "With a lady such as yourself, I must presume it is not exceedingly difficult."

The lady, which Anthony now realizes that he does not know the name of, blushes a shade of pink that could only be described as warm, like a rose pelting in the wind. She laughs graciously, accepting the compliment with ease. “I must confess, I am flattered, Mr…” Her words trail off as she too comes to realization with the fact she does not know how to address the young gentleman.

“Lord Bridgerton.” He introduces, his voice not in any way condescending as many others may take him on to be.

Anthony takes note of the way the lady’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, followed by the rather flushed look that began to tint at her cheeks. "Oh dear, I beg your pardon, my Lord." Tilting her head down hesitantly as if she were unsure of what formality would be the most appropriate. It almost forces a chuckle out of the Viscount.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Anthony continues on as it is only polite to ask so.

"Mm, indeed. How remiss of me not to mention it beforehand…” The lady says, letting out a sort of awkward laugh that could be seen as rather affectionate. “My name is Y/n.” The lady states, followed by a surname that Anthony can faintly remember to be as one of the other Viscounts that lived in the city, although he couldn’t quite say he knew the name all too well. Certainly not one that he had talked to on the occasion.

“I see,” Anthony nods along, a faint smile tainted upon his lips before he even knows it himself. “Charming gentleman your cousin is.” He could not say if the man was truly charming, or a gentleman at all, as he had only read a couple lines about it from the Lady Whistledown paper that his family had received a couple of long weeks ago.

“Charming, indeed.” The words were more so grumbled, as if she didn’t quite agree with the statement. “That is certainly one way to describe him.”

He chuckles at the disdain laced upon her voice. Anthony fairly enjoyed the new sense of emotion—most ladies he had the pleasure of talking with all embellished their compliments in spite of thinking the opposite. Being able to hear an objection that wasn’t sugarcoated heavily; Anthony would think that he notably liked the trait that distinguished Y/n.

The course grounds slowly appear into Anthony’s line of vision as the conversation dies down. The sound of chatter that did come from his or her mouth refilling his ears—excited husbands yelling bets at one another, ladies shaking their heads as so—the look that was etched on their faces would be one that Anthony could appreciate and find humorous.

"I must confess, some of the wagers being placed are rather simplistic in nature." Y/n cuts in through the stillness of their discussion beforehand. A nice conversation starter, but one that would rile many people up. "It appears as though none of these individuals have ever graced a racecourse before! How utterly rash of them to bet upon the favored contender solely because of his popularity."

He can’t help but be taken aback, although once again, her exaggeration was one that could be seen as comical. That is, before he had realized that he himself had also bet upon the favored horse, Nectar, which Anthony assumed the lady was talking about. For a moment, he wonders if her words are pure bullshit, if she was just making conversation with him. It is as if Y/n sees right through him.

“Oh my, do not tell me you have also fallen into the unfortunate trap of betting for Nectar.” Anthony can’t quite place what expression she expresses, but it does not look good. Disappointed, or perhaps pity.

“Naturally, I betted upon him, it is a sensible bet, and he is a horse of sound character who shall undoubtedly finish with victory this afternoon.” He defends, the tone of his voice sounding rather offended at the plain mention of his unwary wager. Something deep down in him wonders if the lady was indeed right, if he really did not know what he was doing. Again, Anthony could not say he was educated well enough, and admittedly, he had bet upon Nectar due to the favorability of his win. “I have a well placed feeling about him.”

“A feeling?” Y/n’s eyebrow cocks up, the smile on her face now more jovial than polite. “Or is it the choosing of the horse that everyone has chosen? Well, I do suppose that adds to the list of husbands who shall be more than disappointed once the race has concluded.”

“I beg your finest pardon, I have made a strategic bet.” His words are more puncuated than before, suddenly relishing within the first person to truly give him some sort of competition that did not stem from his brothers or family, for that matter. “Nectar is a prized steed. He is quite well bred, highly trained, and, as many other people have shown, well favored.”

Y/n tsks, shaking her head as if she were scolding Anthony as his mother and father had done when he was a young boy. “I must assume you have not considered the quality of the racing course and the weather to assess the true potential? Although these sorts of events are not truly common back in my homeland, I do must say that many of these may just be common sense.”

She knows that her words are stretching the truth, that it wasn’t just common sense, but Y/n must admit that she took delight in having a friendly banter. She climbs up onto one of the wooden bleachers, sitting herself upon the heated seat, with Anthony following quickly behind her. “You see, my cousin had kindly explained to me the expectations of the race, and it is said that Nectar raced well at Doncaster; however, the track conditions were far from the same. A firmer course, if you will. While now, over here…” She pauses to wave her hand at the field of grass in front of her view. “It is much softer, and it is a rather humid day. He will much slowdown in the final leg, giving HighFlyer the much easy victory.”

Anthony scoffs. Foolish? Perhaps. Tinted with truth? Also yes. "Are you merely echoing the words your cousin imparted to you earlier?" He argues as well, Anthony never backed down from a challenge, and this lady was surely challenging him.

“And are you merely saying that I do not know about horse racing because I am a woman?” She tilts her head to look directly at Anthony; the grin that is placed strategically on her face was one that he could not argue with. And he is sure of that when he opens his mouth to bite back, but being blatantly unable to respond with something witty. Oh, that shit-eating smirk that was so easily disguised as a polite smile made Anthony oh-so infuriatingly upset. Upset because she knew what she was doing; upset because, well, he was moderately fond of that smile.

“We shall see then.”

Famous last words, because well, he is proved to be utterly wrong. The course of disappointed groans that steamed through the crowd, which Anthony would not admit (but was a part of), as HighFlyer flew his way across the finish line were abominably loud. Nectar staggered behind him moments later, but not before the crowd had seen how winded he was by the heat and conditions.

The lady behind him had laughed in delight, unable to celebrate fully before she must turn towards Anthony to shove it into his face. “I can not say that I have ever beat a viscount before.” Suddenly, all formality that was once there had been gone, destroyed, as if it had never been there in the first place. “I do suppose there is always a first.”

“And a last.” Anthony grumbles under his breath, in hope that Y/n would close off her ears to the harsh criticism. To his luck, she does hear.

“I must concede, you are just like the many men who claim to be gentlemen.” She replies, even though she seemed not to be very upset by the Viscount’s words. If that had been the case, it would have appeared as though Anthony had experienced numerous episodes of frustration—possibly humorous ones, but nonetheless, frustration.. "Unwilling to concede defeat, even when it lies directly at his feet."

“I am able to concede defeat if the defeat deserves to be conceded.” His words are sharp, even though the smile tugging at his face says different to his own jumble of words. Anthony could not quite help it when he sees her eyes light up with something that he could not describe. “If it dares, look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, is that right, my Lord?” She questions, carrying herself with the confidence that he hadn’t seen in forever. An admirable trait indeed, if Anthony must admit. "Does not defeat gaze directly upon you as HighFlyer is crowned the victor of this afternoon's fine race.”

He sighs. Anthony was never one to be dramatic; he always held himself upright and, in his family's words, rather serious. Still, he had to admit that his gasp was a bit dramatic. “Ah… well.” His words trail off slowly, grimacing at the truth of the lady’s words. “I suppose you are… right this time.” The syllables were uttered slowly, followed by another huff of a breath that he could only feel to himself.

She laughs, that beautiful melody of a laugh. While in many cases, it would be regarded as an unpleasant sound unless it was done so delicately, hers was not delicate, nor was it ungracious. It was as if the notes from every music piece ever composed had all come together to form one masterpiece of a harmony, one that ebbed and flowed in all the right ways.

“Oh rejoice! What a sound those words are!” Y/n breathes dreamfully.

The track is far from empty, with many individuals walking over to congratulate the winner, while the others either mourn the losses of their empty wallets, or giggling gleefully over their new-found bundles of heritage. However, the bleachers were starting to thin out, leaving just a select few groups.

There is a sense that weaves through him as he ponders his next move. He could surely just stand himself up, mutter out a respectable goodbye, and leave, yet at the same time, he could not allow himself to just do that. Anthony seemed far better off conversing with this lady than with any other of the ones that he had danced or engaged with in the slightest. The thought made him laugh at his own stupidity, and yet;

"I cannot suppose it would be honorable of me not to inquire if you might attend the Hearts and Flower Ball with me. I trust you have heard of it?" Anthony asks, not just out of politeness but also the small amount of desire he feels for just a beat of a moment. One that felt odd and far too new in his chest, something that he had yet to feel in the weeks that had came, and the weeks yet to come.

The lady showed a glimpse of astonishment, and Anthony wonders if he had made the right decision upon asking her about it in the first place. "My Lord, are you, perchance, inquiring if you wish to take me on a social outing?" Though even she could hear the tiny quiver that was woven, her voice seemed steady as she spoke.

“I… suppose I am, yes.” He stands with his head gently cocked to the right, extending his hand in consolation. Anthony can feel the regret seeping into his words as they were carefully placed, because God, if she came to deny his request, he was sure he could drop dead on the grass at that given moment.

“I would love to.” And Anthony would not be able to stop the sigh of relief that washed over him even if he had tried. The tension that creased his forehead, all the way down to his calves, was quickly overridden with a sense of declaration.

As he wove through the throngs of disassembling guests, waving courteously to the lady that he swore to uncover the mystery of, Anthony finally let himself pry out of dapper smile. For the first time in a while, he felt as if he were winning. Not just a kid-made, pointless game, but something much deeper than he could have ever imagined. Except, this time, he would not allow it to simply just… escape his grasp.

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