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seijorhi · 1 month

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Violent Delights

for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)

M I N E

It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.

The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.

But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.

Mine.

Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink.

Mine.

Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation.

Something you missed.

Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with.

You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–

The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.

Mine.

The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain.

Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name.

You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you.

They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours.

“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.

Open the damn door.

“Y-yeah?”

Coward.

“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”

Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy.

Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.

The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.

It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.

With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds.

Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–

“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?”

Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach.

One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.

The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on.

The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you.

“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak.

A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”

“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.”

“And the other two?”

“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out.

They’re gone.

You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts.

Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.

He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”

A wordless, wide eyed nod.

“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”

This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud.

Your fault.

Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.

You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you.

“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–”

MINE.

Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles.

For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair.

(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.)

“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”

“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”

And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.

You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.

“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”

You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,”

His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot.

“Bullied?” he probes.

Another nod.

“How ‘bout family?”

Your mouth dries.

“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out.

You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact.

“Siblings?”

Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms.

Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.

“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.”

You don’t talk about your brother, ever.

Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe.

“How old were you?”

Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming.

“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”

Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop.

When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”

There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you.

“What did I fucking tell you?”

—

‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’

They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind.

Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you.

Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino.

Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.

It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes.

Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’

You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.

For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends.

Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground.

‘She’s MINE!’

Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy.

With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.

He stops for you.

At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.

—

‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’

‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’

‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’

‘… He says he misses me.’

‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’

‘I want to write back to him.’

—

There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.

You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day.

“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”

You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is.

The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice.

So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;

He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?

The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together.

—

‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’

Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that.

He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably.

They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.

You’ve sent four letters since, no response.

He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.

You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb–

No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.

It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.

You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness.

He never writes back.

—

They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.

There was another fight, someone pushed him–

You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.

Hajime is gone.

The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–

Yours. A part of you.

Gone.

And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period.

—

“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine.

He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.

His lips are mere inches from yours.

Not dead.

Here.

There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.

You burst into tears–

and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.

The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.

He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.

“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’

She hadn’t sounded convinced.

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”

When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.

Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.

“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.

“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.

Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you.

You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.

Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely.

(Are you not already broken?)

When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”

But that’s a lie, too.

“I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.

There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes.

The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears.

But you don’t look away.

He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip – crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine.

Devotion demands sacrifice.

“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”

What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.

“I didn’t–”

The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat.

He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh.

There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.

The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”

And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn.

When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability.

Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand.

He’d never allow anything less.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere iwaizumi #tw: noncon

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malcriada · 2 months

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Help Firas and Nisreen pay their university fees until August 1st!

i had an exchange today with Firas @firasmuhaisenn that brought me to tears.

Firas is a first year medical student, currently studying in Egypt together with his sister Nisreen. they have to struggle through an extremely tough university year, studying for exams, all while the rest of their family is stuck in Gaza. they have lost their beautiful home and their jobs, their livelihoods. his campaign is extremely time sensitive. it has been verified and reblogged by @/90-ghost here their father's factory which was bombed by the occupation used to specialize in construction work. in the future, when it is rebuilt, it could play a crucial role in the reconstruction of Gaza. but because it was reduced to rubble, their father is out of income and cannot possibly help them with their fees.

to make matters worse, they have to pay university fees until August 1st, otherwise they will have to pay a fine and won't be allowed to continue their studies. their university knows of their plight and is not sympathetic to them at all. they are not granted any exception to the rule, not even a time extension. they are treated like every other student even though their family is going through genocide. these siblings are their families last hope, they desperately want to become medical doctors to better aid people in Gaza and they are also responsible for getting their family out of an active war zone. i think most of us would not be able to imagine or even withstand the amount of pressure Firas and Nisreen are under. they need to raise $ 6,000 CAD as a short term goal, to not only pay for both of their university fees but also accounting for the cut gfm takes. so far they have:

$ 4,018 CAD / $ 6,000 CAD which means $ 1,982 CAD more to go!

@marnota is offering some really nice art commissions in exchange for proof of donation so please check those out here You can get some wonderful art for the price of $10 CAD so please consider getting some! Firas is genuinely a wonderful person, kind, determined and very hardworking (he is constantly studying for his exams and close to achieving distinction in his first year). he misses his family and his cat terribly. even amidst all the war and destruction and death, he would rather be together with them than in Egypt, where he is now.

please, if you have anything you can give, give to Firas and Nisreen so they may continue their studies and also reunite with their family.

[ID: two images of a completely ruined building, it is almost entirely rubble. one person stands before it. the text reads „Donate to Help evacuate our family and complete our studying, organized by Firas Muhaisen“ End ID]

taglist for reach under the cut (apologies for the tag. if you'd like to not be added to these, please let me know and i will remove you)

@meaganfoster @briarhips

@mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @pcktknife

@transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqi

@irhabiya @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @junglejim4322

@kibumkim @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others

@northgazaupdates2 @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah

@omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid

@criptochecca @aristotels

@komsomolk @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@heritageposts @ot3

@amygdalae @ankle-beez

@communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril

@mavigator @lacecap

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage

@ghelgheli @northgazaupdates

#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #gaza mutual aid #mutual aid #free gaza #gaza strip #palestine

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allywthsr · 1 month

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GENDER REVEAL | (l.norris)

summary: the day has finally come, you get to know the gender of your baby

wordcount: 2.1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

notes: series part two has finally arrived

warnings: none! (I think)

Baby Series masterlist

You were twenty two weeks pregnant when the gynecologist told you, she could tell you the gender, she put a letter with the gender in an envelope and gave it to you. You wanted nothing more than to open the letter and read the gender, but you wanted it to be more exciting. So you gave the envelope to your best friend, she wanted to plan a big gender reveal / babyshower for you. Lando and you wanted the babyshower and gender reveal in one celebration, the schedule was tight and Lando couldn’t just take a week off from work.

Lando’s parents said the whole party could happen on their property, and you were thankful for that, your apartment never would’ve fit every single one coming, and renting something in Monaco was almost impossible. The England weather was often rubbish, but you prayed for sunshine and warm temperatures for the beginning of August, when the party was happening, if it was raining, the celebration could easily be moved inside.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything. Two days before the big day, you received last minutes information from your best friend, what she had planned and what you should wear. Lando was bouncing around, he couldn’t wait for the reveal, just like the rest of the family and friends, every weekend the mechanics would ask him, if he knew more than the last time, they saw him, them being disappointed when he didn’t, so they were even more excited when the invite for the gender reveal came. Will and José bought pink and blue shirts, specifically for this day, just so they could follow the invite and wear something in the color they think the gender of the baby would be, like little kids they sent Lando a picture of them going shopping for the shirts.

And today it was finally happening, today you would know the gender of your baby, with butterflies you woke up and Lando brought you a toast with your favorite topping, you needed to eat something immediately after waking up, or you would hang with your head over the toilet. Lando went for a run in the forrest that stood around his family’s property, and you got up and did your morning routine in the bathroom, since being pregnant, your skin was almost perfect, you barely had to anything for it. You read on some dodgy website, that good skin means you’re pregnant with a baby boy, you couldn’t wait for later and finally know the gender. Of course the gender wouldn’t change anything, you would love the baby either way, if boy or girl, but you could finally think about names and stop calling the baby ‘the baby’, Lando was certain it was a boy, and always said he or him, while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also hoping for a boy. Just the thought of having a mini Lando running around, made your heart melt, sure, Lando with Mila made you cry and a baby girl would be perfect for him to care and love, but you wanted a boy first, he could take care of his baby sister later.

You went downstairs to the kitchen where Cisca was sitting and drinking a tea, you greeted her with a smile and asked her how she was feeling. She stood up and ushered you to sit on her chair, with a small caress over your round belly, she made you a quick breakfast, not listening to your complaints about how you can make your own breakfast, and she should enjoy her tea. She was a full on mother, no matter to whom, she made you a small breakfast, and it automatically tasted better because she did it. When Lando came in, he kissed his mother’s cheek and you on your mouth, kissing your belly while you put your hand on his cheek. He smiled at you and kissed you on the head, „“I’m going to shower and then I’ll come back, yeah?“, you nodded and smiled back. He ran up the stairs, and you could hear the door slam, with a chuckle, Cisca sat next to you again, “I’m so excited for later, can’t wait to see what gender my grandbaby has.“

“Me too! In the end its important that he or she is healthy, but I hope for a boy.“

“We do too! Adam wants a little prince to spoil, do the racing with him, having him on his lap while mowing the grass.“

“Don’t get me too excited for a boy, Cisca“, you chuckled, but you knew you would be just as happy if a little girl was growing in you.

After breakfast, Lando came downstairs again and shortly after, the decorators came, they prepared everything your best friends ordered. It was supposed a rather small and intimate party, but by the time you and Lando made a list for who would need to be invited, you were already at fifty people. Almost the whole grid and their girlfriends were invited, plus Carlos’s parents and siblings, people like Zak, Andrea and Andreas couldn’t be missed. Obviously Lando’s family, your family, friends, and important people in your life got an invitation.

After a small nap on the couch with Lando, you went outside to check out the decorations, thankfully the weather was supposed to be wonderful, sunshine over sunshine. There was a huge balloon wall to take pictures in front of, a big seating area with tables, to eat, drink and fill out the forms your best friend organized, the buffet would be in the kitchen, to not have everything melt in the sun and the actual revealing part would be done in the back of the backyard, where no neighbor could see what was happening. You weren’t a rockstar, nobody filmed yours and Lando’s every step of the way, and you didn’t think the neighbors would share anything to the public before you did, but you could never be too careful. Your best friend let you decide on how to reveal the gender, and you settled on the basic smoke and confetti method, it was easy, but it looked amazing.

After the caters arrived and set up the buffet, you and Lando checked on it, trying little cookies and snacks. Cisca came in shortly after Lando filled his mouth with a blue icing covered sugar cookie, and scolded him for it, gently slapping the back of his head.

The first guests arrived a bit early, your family rung the doorbell and you jumped from your chair, walking quickly to the door, you haven’t seen your family for what felt like ages, with you living in Monaco and traveling constantly, you couldn’t visit your home as much as you‘d like, even Lando rarely got to see his mother and siblings, with his father being at every race, you saw him at the race weekends.

You tightly squeezed your mother and father, Lando followed you suit, embracing them in a tight hug, your siblings also didn’t get left out.

Your mother gave you a bouquet after she caressed your swollen tummy, clearly amazed at how big you‘ve gotten. The flowers were placed in a vase and Lando’s parents welcomed yours, they haven’t seen each other since the last Christmas, and the mothers immediately settled in the kitchen to talk, while the dads went out in to the garden to eye the decorations and talk about football and f1.

You and Lando went upstairs together, changing into a more party outfit. You put on a baby blue flowy dress, that settled nicely on your stomach, not making you look like a whale, but like a healthy pregnant woman. Lando also changed into a baby blue top and some beige pants, you both looked stunning, Lando couldn’t resist but to take what felt like a thousand pictures of you on your own or together in the mirror.

You settled on the couch, to wait for the first guests to arrive, and shortly after, the doorbell rung. You greeted Carlos and Rebecca and took their gift bag to the little table that was placed in the living room.

The more time passed, the more people arrived, you tried to keep it small, but with people knowing that many people, it was hard to decide what people should be left out, you simply couldn’t. Family, friends, and colleagues were standing around the garden, chatting, drinking, and eating to pass the time until the big reveal.

When everyone was there, you greeted them all again and held a little speech, thanking everyone for coming and for the gifts, explaining what was planned for the afternoon and where to find the food.

Your best friend organized a few little extras before it, every guest could write a small letter to the baby, that it could read once he or she was old enough, fill out a form and guess what gender, date and time it would be born, weight, height and many more things. The person that is most accurate, is going to win a small prize, you didn’t know what yet, but a trip to Monaco was a good idea.

On a small table there were some babygrows, and some clothing paint. If guests wanted to, they could paint on the babygrow and later on your child could wear it, it’s also just to have a sweet memory and keep the guests entertained.

You were chatting with your best friend in the kitchen, snacking on some pink colored cookies, from where you were standing you saw people fill out the forms, drawing on the babygrow or taking pictures in front of the picture wall. The professional photographer you hired for this day, was patient and took her time for everyone, who wanted pictures. You already had your little photoshoot, where every guest took a picture with you and Lando, the parents to be.

After almost two hours of people arriving and people filling out forms, or designing babygrows, it was time for the big reveal. Your best friend announced that it was time for everyone to walk to the back of the backyard and half-circle around you and Lando.

Lando stood next to you, holding you in his arms, and stroking your side, you both were shaking with nerves, good nerves, it was exciting to finally be sure what gender your baby has.

Your best friend gave you a smoke cannon, and Lando a confetti cannon, you both looked at each other, you could see how nervous he was, Lando gave you one last kiss and a stroke over your belly, when the crowd started counting down from ten, with every number passing, you felt the sparks in your belly explode, why were they counting that slowly?

When the one was called, Lando and you clasped the triggers of the cannons tighter and twisted the bottom, you squeezed your eyes shut, and only opened them when everybody was erupting with screams.

You opened your eyes and blue smoke surrounded you, with a gasp and tears threatening to spill, you turned to Lando and opened your arms, squeezing him tight, before he pressed his lips to yours and enjoyed the moment, caressing your belly.

“A boy! Y/N, a boy. We have a mini Lando.“

He kissed your cheek, before Max Fewtrell came over and hugged the two of you, more guests came over and congratulated you, you enjoyed each and every hug you received, thanking the person for being there.

Lando and you took a quiet minute inside the house, just hugging and talking about your baby, Lando got his boy, the one he wanted so badly. Now he could show him the world of karting, when he was old enough to get inside one. The room could be finalized, you could buy the first babygrow he would wear when he was born, a name could be chosen, and so much more.

The rest of the evening was spent talking, laughing and enjoying the time with your friends and families, you held your tummy, knowing a little boy would keep you up your toes in a few months, but you weren’t alone, you had Lando by your side, helping you with whatever it is you would need.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #dad!lando norris #lando x you

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httpsserene · 10 months

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hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year

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we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

#it's so god damn insulting u know. even redbubble threw its shitty payouts directly into my paypal asap #inprnt

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c3dricsluv · 18 days

Text

Do me a favour...

Luke Castellan x reader

A/N: This is my first fic on this account, so it will not be my best, but proceed as warned.

Warnings: Fluff, angst if you squint, cuddling, extremely cheesy. !!NOT PROOF READ!!

Summary: You're a summer-only camper, and your boyfriend is a year-rounder, causing some sad nights, and conversations neither of you want to be having.

This summer had seemed to speed by faster than the rest. Every moment seemed to be on fast-forward, never giving you enough time to take it in.

Tonight seemed to be the first time everything slowed down. Early August, camp would be ending for the summer soon, leaving only the year-rounders at Camp Half-blood.

That's what you and Luke had been talking about the past few hours, into what was now the early hours of the morning. The moonlight shone through the windows of cabin 11, illuminating the outline of your body intertwined with Luke's.

His face was pressed into your neck as the two of you whispered your plans for the year, avoiding the obvious topic - you leaving.

Luke was a year-rounder, and you were a summer-only camper, meaning you'd be heading back home in less than a week.

"I guess soon I'll have to start actually sleeping at night huh?" He mumbled beneath your ear, voice low as his lips brush against the delicate skin.

"Yeah, guess you will. No more making out at 2 in the morning." You giggle, cringing at memories of being caught by Chris or the Stolls.

"I'll miss you." He whispers, tracing the side of your waist where your pajama shirt had riden up.

You smile sadly, turning to kiss his forehead as you whisper. "You know I have to go, Luke. I have school."

He sighs, nodding as he wraps his arms around your waist a little tighter, hands clutching your waist as he lifts his head.

"I know, but I really wish you could stay. I'd give anything to keep you here forever. But you'll be gone, and for 10 months..." He buries his face back into your neck, his breath shaky.

You run your fingers along his back, trying to sooth him. "Luke, I'll be back before you know it, okay? I'll miss you, I know you'll miss me, but we go through this every year, and this is the last time."

Luke stays quiet for a few minutes, as you continue to scratch his back soothingly. After a while, he lifts his head, looking into your eyes, his own sparkling in the moonlight from the window over his bunk.

"Can you do me a favor?" He whispers, barely audible.

You nod quickly lifting your left hand to cup his cheek. "What?"

"Don't give up on me," His voice is shaky, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. "On us."

"Luke, you-"

"I don't want us to drift apart, no matter how much we change. I just want us... to stay us."

You stare at him, smiling softly. "We will always be us, Luke. I know I'll be gone for a while, but I could be gone for years and still love you. You're not losing me anytime soon."

He smiles back sadly, before slowly ducking his head down to press his lips to yours. The kiss lasts only a few seconds before the whispers start back up again.

"I love you, Angel."

"I love you more, Luke."

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan oneshot

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81folklore · 5 months

Text

i can do it with a broken heart - f1 grid

parings: gn!driver!reader x platonic!f1!grid x ex!jacob elordi

summary: after yn and their ex break up, they carry on as best they can and no one had any idea how bad they were struggling

type: social media au (smau)

notes: george is in this but he does not drive for mercedes, yn does. i also used a mixture of fem and masc pictures because i couldnt decide and thought you could just imagine whatever you wish!!

notes 2: probably the longest fic ive done so far but im pretty proud of it. the time stamps above each section are semi important so i would keep an eye on them!! also i know ive been gone for so long but i do not promise ill be back. alsoooo i know i only included a bit of the grid but i kept getting distracted and then couldn’t figure out how to include everyone!!

masterlist

march 2024

twitter

charles oh my god i cant believe my cat is finally the pfp

i have been waiting for YEARS

max yes well you better enjoy it because it’ll change soon and you’ll be back to waiting again.

lando jesus max do you have to use punctuation???

alex be glad he doesnt use captials

oscar one thing at a time lando, we dont want to scare him

max ???

lando anyway

yn mate you ok?

yourname im fine? ur scaring me you never ask how i am

lando yeah but usually your not single

lewis oh no! you and jacob split?

yourname yeah, wasnt working anymore

charles ah im sorry, that must suck😣

yourname i mean it does but its been coming for a long time so its not surprising

fernando hello! yn what is wrong? you always use emotes!

yourname theyre emojis nando, and im fine just a bit lost

fernando do not worry, i will come and find you!

yourname no, i dont mean literally just..we were together for so long i dont really know what to do now you know?

lando i get it, you wanna play tarkov with me???

yourname cheers ill get on now

george let us know if you need anything!

may 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 814,583 others

p✌️ was just what we needed this weekend!

thank you to everyone who came out and supported myself and the team and huge thank you to the team for working so hard all weekend⭐️

view comments

mercedesamgf1 mega job this weekend yn👊 *liked by author*

landonorris nice to share the podium with you mate

yourusername same time next race?

user33 loved seeing you back on the podium

user2 absolutely smashing it this season

user21 more podiums please🤲 *liked by author*

user3 fourth podium of the year first p✌️*liked by author*

twitter

*pretend it says after march i changed dates around last min*

august 2024

yourusername

liked by lukehemmings, charles_leclerc and 1,124,642 others

did some reading, painting and writing

baked some good food and spent time with some good people, also got a cat…not bad for summer break☀️

view comments

user66 AHHHHHH

yourusername ahhhhhhh

user26 cats name plsplspls

yourusername norman🐱

lukehemmings nice music👍

yourusername woah arent you the guy who wrote mum?!

mercedesamgf1 ready to see you back on the podium

yourusername always!!!!

user74 have you had funnnn??

yourusername yesss!! ive been doing lots of things i enjoy, basically treating every day as my birthday😋

twitter

*was supposed to write them instead of her sorry!! was doing two stories at once and kept getting mixed up😅*

october 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, gracieabrams and 1,291,638 others

p☝️ for the 3rd time this season, very very pleased

huuuuuge thank you to the team, every single one of you who worked tirelessly over the summer break and every moment since then, these have been for you⭐️

view comments

user55 what a good season to be a yn fan *liked by author*

user6 these races have been incredible to watch, so proud

yourusername ⭐️⭐️

gracieabrams woop woop!!!!

yourusername 😝😝

user2 gracie??

user41 why have we not had any personal photo dumps yet😕😕

user88 right we miss seeing you yn!!

yourusername sorry guys😣ive been suuuper busy working on something i just honestly forgot

user41 NEW PROJECT?? WHEN?? (also pls dont feel bad we love u)

yourusername soon!! (and i love u guys too)

twitter

november 2024

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 3,689,921 others

tagged: taylorswift

i cannot believe i get to say this, but my new friend taylor just released a new album and i was able to write a song on the album

im honestly not sure how this came about but i had so much fun writing this and expressing all my thoughts and feelings in a way ive never done before

i poured my life and soul into this song and im so glad taylor is the one who is singing it and really bought it to life

send some love to my friend and go and stream THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT (most importantly i can do it with a broken heart😉)

comments have been limited

taylorswift thank you for trusting me with this song, so much love🤍

yourusername NO THANK YOU!!! i will be forever grateful⭐️⭐️

twitter

yourusername added to their story

seen by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 729,282 others

charles i feel completely betrayed yn

fernando oh no😟! what did yn do?

charles THEY DIDNT TELL ME THEY WERE WRITING A SONG??

AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT HOW COULD YOU☹️☹️

yourname sorry charles, surprise?!

charles ill forgive you because its a good song

yourname thank you my life just got infinitely better!

yuki very good song yn! has been on repeat☺️

yourname thanks yuki, glad you like it!!

lando I LOVE IT TOO

but seriously are you ok?!

yourname yeahhh im better now

was just a lot to navigate

lewis glad you found an outlet! but remember you can always talk to any of us

yourname i know and i appreciate it, i really do

alex yn was that twitter thread right?

yourname mate youre going to have to elaborate

alex user56tweetlink

yourname oh pretty much yeah

some things were changed with taylor but not much

fernando just listened to the song yn! very nice👍well done!

yourname thank uu

max good song yn!

now

lando can you please tell me what you meant on your twitch stream!

oscar max is kind of scary

max dont make me talk about that interview next oscar!

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 x male reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 insta au #★ platonic

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cobaltperun · 3 months

Text

Eternal Flame - Runaway Train

Cover by @ortegalvr

Jenna Ortega x female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Masterlist / Next part

Word count: 2k

-You were there like a slow torch burning, I was a key that could use a little turning-

The August heat in Los Angeles wasn’t something you liked experiencing, especially when you were already feeling quite nervous standing in front of the building where Radio Silence Production office was. You had a few roles here and there, never as big as this one though. You did have plans if acting failed, but you didn’t want to fuck it up at this stage of auditioning.

Granted, if you would fuck it up or not would greatly rely on the other actress. So, you took a deep breath and went inside the building. The air conditioning immediately provided you with a much needed relief and a few minutes later you were in front of the office doors. You knocked twice and the door opened, revealing one of the directors of the movie, Matt.

“Come on, come on,” he certainly looked excited as he ushered you inside, you were ten minutes early, but it was clear you were the last one to arrive.

“Damn, should have gotten here earlier,” you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably.

“It’s all good, I was just telling Jenna about the scene the two of you will do together,” Matt motioned toward a girl that looked like she was one, maybe two years younger than you, dressed perfectly between casual and professional, and that seemed a bit familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you’ve seen her before.

She was sitting next to an older woman, you guessed mid or late forties, that looked a lot like her, so you assumed it was her mother.

“That’s a relief,” you approached the girl and offered your hand to her. “Y/N L/N, nice to meet you,” you smiled, too late realizing the mask hid your smile, as she stood up and accepted the handshake.

“I’m Jenna Ortega, pleasure to meet you too,” her handshake was firm, but even more than that, her voice finally made it click where you knew her from.

You nodded as Jenna sat down and offered your hand to the woman next to her as well. “Y/N,”

“Natalie, nice to meet you,” the woman nodded as well and you turned back to Jenna as you sat down on a chair to her left, with a seat between the two of you.

“You, right? Season 2?” you were about ninety percent sure you got it right.

Her eyes widened and you winced, fearing you made her uncomfortable, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes, thank you, I mean,” she buried her face in her hands.

“No, it’s all good, I was about to say you were great,” you tried, you really did, to salvage the first meeting, but when she still looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her to save her from embarrassment, you were kind of lost and unsure of what to do. Luckily, you were saved by Matt.

He faked a cough and gave you the scene you were meant to do with Jenna. It was one of the two scenes you did for your audition, the first being a bit of the action scene, just so they could be sure you were fit for the physical side of the role. “Jenna, Y/N, please move to the couch and the chair we set up, Jenna, you’re meant to start lying down, the relationship between your characters leans a lot on the touch, so do it as if you were filming the scene. Y/N, you’ve got water right behind you,” he instructed the two of you as you removed your masks and as if in an instant you saw a shift in Jenna, as if she was completely focused on the task, and nothing else mattered.

Matt, the other director Tyler, and several other people observed the two of you as you got into position.

“And action!” Tyler instructed you.

You sat, still, acting as if you were in deep thought, trying to get inside the mind of your character. For her the girl she was in love with just barely survived a vicious attack and she spent the last twelve hours sitting by the girl’s side, waiting for Tara to wake up,

Jenna groaned, and you jumped to your feet, but froze mid-step, your body filled with tension. You continued watching carefully as Jenna opened her eyes and as your eyes met you relaxed your posture.

She blinked a few times before she focused on you. “C/N,” she said your character’s name, prompting you to snap into action and fill a glass of water. You went back to Jenna, and she raised her neck, taking a few sips as you slowly tilted the glass for her.

“Easy, I got you,” you moved once more, kneeling on one knee next to the couch, your hand brushing against the back of Jenna’s right hand. She didn’t flinch away, but you saw the panic and fear in her eyes, and it took your breath away how into character she got. “Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you still moved, quickly reaching up to cradle her cheek. “Okay? You’re safe,” you softened the tone of your voice considerably, and the two of you remained like that, waiting for the slight pause in the scene to play out.

And then Jenna sobbed, with so much emotion you damn near felt the exact need to protect her your character felt for her character. “Please, don’t leave me,” her eyes filled with tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” you wiped her tears away, though it wasn’t a part of the script, you just felt like that was something your character would do, and much to your surprise Jenna actually leaned into your touch, playing along with your slightly improvisation.

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” you smiled back as she smiled slightly.

“Could you help me sit up?” Jenna went on with the scene, and you nodded, helping her sit up with as much care as you could while getting into the position your character needed to be in. Jenna leaned the back of her head onto your left shoulder, and you opened your mouth, your eyes meeting hers. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

And it was truly an awkward position, but you hugged her from behind, your left arm just beneath her neck. “Is this okay?” you asked, and not just as your character. Sure, your characters were meant to be close, but you just met.

“Yeah,” she relaxed against you for a few moments. “Did they catch him?”

Everything was calm between the two of you. “Not as far as I know.”

Jenna turned, leaning closer and burying her face in the crook of your neck and you nearly flinched, as it wasn’t part of the script, though you couldn’t deny it did fit the description of the relationship between your characters. “I’m so scared C/N,” she whispered.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” you said, hugging her a bit tighter than before.

“Cut!” Matt exclaimed and you watched as Jenna slowly slipped out of character as she moved to sit on the couch with you. And then you both saw the approval on Matt and Tyler’s faces, which was probably a very good sign.

“Great you two! That was wonderful!” Tyler praised you and you turned to Jenna with a grin on your face, the previous embarrassment forgotten as you raised your hand for a high-five, which she accepted, her eyes shining with excitement, and a tiny bit of embarrassment over the praise.

You could see this movie meant a lot to her, and you were really happy you didn’t fuck it up, granted, with how amazing she was, and how much she gave you in such a short scene you, they would be fools not to cast her as Tara Carpenter.

~X~

You didn’t want to celebrate too soon, you let a few days pass, funnily enough you were in a similar position your character was in. You’ve been training, practicing various martial arts and you were at a bit of a crossroad, stuck between acting and pursuing a career in MMA. You figured you could remain undecided for another year, see if you could land any role that could turn your acting career into something tangible, and not a couple of minor roles and two main roles still to be released, with one being filmed and now in production hell.

You just came out of the shower, fresh after an average training session, when you phone rang. It was Tim, your agent. “What’s up?” you asked as you walked over to your sofa and grabbed a TV remote. Might as well watch something to pass time.

“You might want to pack your bags,” he certainly sounded happy. “You’re heading to Wilmington, you got the role in Scream 5!” he exclaimed and you just dropped the remote you were holding.

Damn… you got the job!

~X~

You arrived at the hotel a day before the shooting began, and you settled in, appreciating that the room had pretty much everything you would need. And though the hotel itself didn’t have a gym there was one nearby in case you felt the need, or more likely, had the time to get a workout in.

You sent Tim a message, letting him know you arrived and that things were going well. There was no one else to contact, the directors knew you arrived, so you just pulled out the script you were given, the final script and began reading through it. The role you got did, in fact, require at least the build of an MMA fighter, preferably with skills to back it up, you certainly had an intense action scene coming up.

What caught your attention was just how physical the relationship between your character and Jenna’s character was. In damn near every scene you read where your character was on screen Tara was also present, and every time there was some touch involved, be it holding hands or Tara leaning on C/N. So, they were absolutely right when they got Jenna and you to do chemistry read in person instead over Zoom or some other platform.

A knock on your doors made you set the script aside, about a third of the way read, and you got up to open the doors. The woman you saw in front of your doors looked absolutely beautiful, even more beautiful in person than in the Zoom meeting the entire cast had not too long ago.

“Hi, Melissa, right?” you still wanted to make sure.

Since her mask was hanging beneath her chin you saw the smile on her face. “Yeah, you’re Y/N?” you nodded at that. “Great, got a few minutes?” she asked and though you were a bit confused you shrugged.

“Of course,” with that you closed the doors behind you and followed Melissa through the halls.

“So, I managed to find something out,” she said and you glanced toward her. “And I’ve been wondering if you’re interested in helping us out?” you still had no idea what she was talking about, but when you came into her room you found most of your costars close to you in age. Jasmin, Mason, Mikey, Jack, Dylan and Sonia were there.

“Hey there,” you raised your hand to greet them, though you definitely noticed Jenna wasn’t there. “So, what’s up?”

“Jenna is turning eighteen on Sunday, so, would you like to help us make a bit of a party for her?” Melissa explained and you grinned.

“Count me in,” there was absolutely no reason for you to refuse.

“Great, what can you do?” Mikey asked, and that got you thinking.

“I can cook,” and that, funnily enough, got your costars laughing, after all that was one of the things your character did for a living. Damn, now it felt a bit like the role was made for you, either way, you sat down and while Jenna was oblivious to what was happening in Melissa’s room all of you began making plans for Sunday.

A/N: I am still very much on the fence about this, but, here you go, the first chapter. Tell me what you think, and I dunno... Taglist? Yes? No?

Masterlist / Next part

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #x reader #x female reader

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 month

Text

Side Effects ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: established relationships, hanahaki disease, Unrequited Love, non idol au, chan being the one with hanahaki

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

"Chan, you're spacing out again." Felix laughs as he notices his friend spacing out in the middle of class. Something he'd been doing a lot lately as well which hadn't gone unnoticed by you and all of his other friends but none of you could get a simple answer out of him.

Chan would do his usual task of telling you everything was fine, that it was just the stress of classes piling up on top of him but it seemed like so much more than that and it worried you that he didn't come to you about it.

"Sorry," He laughed nervously before turning his attention back to the professor, talking about Hanahaki disease and how often it tended to affect people but it was everything Chan already knew and was experiencing himself.

It was something that was happening a lot lately in the news, a lot of people were experiencing unrequited love and a lot of people were dying or doing experimental drugs to try and rid themselves of the disease but in the end, nothing would work. Most cases end in death or if they were lucky a prison sentence for taking uncontrolled substances.

"Professor, I heard there were new surgeries for people," A girl at the front of the class called out and Chan's ears picked up, it was something he'd been looking into lately and he wanted to know if it was true. Glancing over at the professor Chan could see he seemed unsure of how to approach the subject matter and he took off his glasses and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"In very rare cases the surgeries do work," He explained, looking out at everyone before walking to the center of the room.

For months now Chan had been putting off the fact that he was suffering alone through it. Ignoring it and praying it would go away all on its own but as the months went by it was getting harder to hide from you and his friends.

When the first petal had come from his throat he thought if he ignored it long enough the whole thing would go away on its own but it was becoming blatantly apparent that wasn't going to happen. Whenever he was around you the petals only came out faster so he did everything he could to limit his time around you.

"What surgery is it?" Chan called out and you glanced over at him, you'd never seen him so interested in this class before but you said nothing, letting him ask whatever he wanted as you watched him.

You'd noticed how withdrawn he'd been lately and it was starting to get to you a little bit. It had started last month, he'd stopped wanting to hang out with you...alone at least. If the others were there he didn't seem to mind that much but he put major distance between the two of you.

The two of you used to be inseparable, you'd spend every waking moment together but he'd stopped. You figured he'd just gotten busy with finals but it seemed like something deeper than that. He stopped speaking to you, moving to sit beside his friends rather than sitting beside you.

"Chan," You whispered, as he started writing down notes. Your eyes scanned over the chicken scratches on his page but you couldn't understand any of it. Felix glanced at you sadly and you looked down at your notebook, wondering what you could have done to make Chan hate you so much he couldn't even look at you anymore.

"It's still experimental but the flowers are surgically removed...along with the victim's feelings of love, meaning that you'll no longer love that person anymore." The class sighed as he listed the side effects of the surgery but Chan just wrote and wrote, scribbling anything the professor was saying back to him, only stopping when the next words came from his lips.

"Sometimes, it will also remove all memories of the former beloved...leaving the victim to never love again," The room turned silent and people stared at the professor with saddening expressions, no one dared to speak. The risk of never being able to love again lingered in the air as you felt your heart breaking.

"Why would anyone do that?" You whisper, mostly to yourself rather than anyone else but Chan heard you and it seemed to irritate him as he gripped his pen so tight you were almost worried it was going to burst.

"Some people can't stand the thought of never being loved by the one person they hold dear." Chan finally grumbled in your direction, wasting no time in gathering his stuff and rushing out of the room seconds before the bell even ran to dismiss you all.

"What was that about?" You mumble to Felix who flicked you a shrug and you frown staring down at the table where Chan had just been sitting to see a drop of blood there. Chan was prone to nosebleeds but you were almost sure you hadn't seen any when he stared at you.

Weeks continued to pass by and Chan only became more and more withdrawn from you and everything that involved you. He stopped coming to the weekly study sessions you did with all of your friends and he stopped replying to your texts. You were starting to freak out and you'd enlisted Felix - Chan's roommate - to help you figure out what was going on. Felix shot you one last look and you urged him to go to the door once again,

It was supposed to be movie night and you'd hoped Chan would come out of his room to join you but he hadn't. So you'd practically shoved Felix toward the door to get him to come out or at least give you answers. He'd made no promises to get to the bottom of everything but told you that he'd do the best he could which was what had led him to waking up Chan by pounding on his door.

"Lix, I'm tired. What is it?" Chan grumbled looking at his friend who had just woken him up, it wasn't even late. It was barely three in the afternoon which only worried Felix more. It wasn't like Chan to sleep like this, if at all. Everyone knew how much he struggled sleeping so to find him asleep in the middle of the day seemed so much worse.

"What's going on with you? You're pushing all of us away." Lix shoved his way into Chan's dorm room, looking around for any sign that he was hiding something but everything was as it usually was. The laptop was open on his desk, working hard as he forced himself to do, but there was something on the screen.

Searching for a hospital that cured Hanahki's disease, along with success rates, Felix stepped closer to get a better look but Chan quickly stepped in front of him and shut the laptop screen down.

"I'm just sick and tired," Chan growls at him, coughing into his hands and freezing in place as he feels his breathing becoming harder and harder to draw in. Felix's eyes wandered to his friend's hands and he saw the blood before anything else,

"Chris-" The words were cut off as Chan dropped to the floor, his lungs so tight he couldn't bring any new air, his gasps coming out frantically.

"YN! CALL AN AMBUALANCE!" Felix screams into the other room, moving Chan onto his side and doing his best to open his airway a little more, to give his friend a little time. Rushing into the room you stared down at your friend who was gasping and struggling to breathe.

"Hang on, Chan. We've got you, I promise we've got you!" You promised as you frantically called for an ambulance.

It had taken everything inside of you not to go with him in the ambulance but Felix had told you to come later, to pack everything Chan was going to need and meet them at the hospital so that's what you were doing. Raiding through his drawers in search of some underwear, you ragged open the next one only to find hundreds and hundreds of bloodied petals lying there.

"W-What the fuck?" You whispered as you pulled them up, it was clear how long Chan had been struggling with this by the sheer amount of petals that were sitting here. Your heart began to race as you rushed to his laptop, pushing it open and looking through his search history. All of it is coinciding with someone looking for a way to rid themselves of the disease,

"Chan, no." You grumbled, moving to go through the drawers until you found exactly what you were looking for. The bottle of pills that were sold as a "quick fix" was the one thing that wasn't a fix at all. It was a glorified painkiller that people claimed fixed them, but it only numbed them to the pain of the growing of the plant inside of them.

"Mr Bang, I can't stress this enough, the side effects-"

"I know," Chan cut the doctor off as he signed the final waiver that he was having to sign in order for them to remove the damn flowers from him. Doing anything so he could breathe again without the pain of unrequited love weighing down on him.

"Have you tried discussing your feelings with the person who you hold them for?" The doctor asked. It was all any of them had asked him since he was able to breathe on his own again and it was starting to get to him.

"She won't love me back. I-I won't put that stress on our friendship," Chan mumbled a little as he took in a deep breath, there was no way he was going to risk ruining things between you because of some stupid flower inside of his lungs.

"There's a chance you won't even remember her...That you'll never be able to love anybody ever again," The doctor explained right as you got to the door, panting and sweating heavily as you stared at them both,

"You didn't go in yet?" Your voice cracked as you rushed to the side of the bed, looking at Chan who shook his head. The doctor walked away, sensing the need to give you both some space and you tried to catch your breath as Chan stared at you,

"Yn, what are you doing-"

"I love you." You cut him off, staring at him as you confessed your own feelings for him. The sight of his petals back in the dorm room killed you inside as you realised he'd been hiding everything you'd been hiding along with him.

"Yn." He grumbled, not wanting to hear you lie just to save his life but you grabbed his hand, placing it over his chest and letting him feel your heart racing for him.

"No, listen to me, Christopher. You've been ignoring me long enough and I swear if you do anymore I'm going to go insane." You rush the words out and he looks at you,

"This isn't a quick fix, I love you...T-This isn't...This isn't something you can lie to fix me through," He cried, tears running down his cheek as you slowly reached out and wiped away the tears. The sight of him crying tearing you apart,

"It's not a lie, Channie." Your voice was softer this time as you reached into your bag, bringing out your own petals and showing him the blood-soaked petals that were staining your hands,

"But-"

"I never said anything because I didn't want to ruin our friendship." You admit as you slowly sit on the side of the bed, your breathing becoming slightly easier as you sit beside him.

"How could you stand being around me?" He frowned, it had been so hard for him to even be near you whenever he felt his feelings inside of him.

"I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you, until...U-Until the flowers did their job," You admitted before Chan brought you into a deep kiss.

As soon as your lips touched everything outside of you both ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, Chan's arms moving to bring you closer to him as your lips brushed against each other in a tender and hesitant kiss.

A shiver ran down your spine as you whimpered a little, carefully sitting on his lap and kissing him deeper than before, your hands cupping his face as you finally gave into the feelings you'd had for months.

"I bought-" Felix stops himself as he sees the two of you, smirking to himself as you sheepishly pull back and stare over at him and pout at being interrupted.

"I'll go and cancel the surgery," Is all Felix says before sneaking off and making you giggle a little, looking down at Chan who was already staring at you with sparkles in his eyes.

"You're not going anywhere anytime soon, I hope you know that," He whispers before kissing you deeply once again.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #bang chan imagines #chan #chan x reader #chan imagine #chan imagines

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imaginespazzi · 2 months

Text

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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multifandomgirl08 · 10 months

Text

Give Me Eyes To See [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.

Warning(s): Flashbacks, Mentions of giving birth (Non-graphic)

A/N: All of the Flashbacks are individual things that were written that I condensed into this. The last flashback could have been its own part but I thought it fit better here. Title taken from the song Home by Corey Taylor.

Words: 2.7k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Max had grown to love the backyard. It was a big reason as to why they had chosen this house when he and Y/N had talked about moving.

It was quiet and peaceful here. It made time slow down and made him appreciate the little things in life. Like the little bundle of blankets that he was holding in his arms.

Max had never thought that he would be a father before he retired from racing. It was never in the cards for him. Nico had been a surprise in his life and Nikita had also been unexpected. The first time that Max had held Nico he thought he was small. Nikita was even tinier for just a few days old.

He was eating every three hours and wasn’t letting Y/N get any sleep. Max rocked Nikita as he slightly whimpered in the bundle. He was enamored with him.

Something so small that he helped create that had been in Y/N’s belly was now in his arms.

“I… I know that you are new to the world.” He muttered as Nikita dozed in his arms. “I just want you to know that as your Papa, I’ll do everything that I can to be there for you. I may not be there every day like your Mama, but I love you just as much.”

He laid his hand over Nikita’s chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of his little breaths under his hand.

As Max held Nikita, he couldn’t help but think back to the first time that he got to hold Nico. From the moment that both of his sons had come into his life, he knew he was going to do everything that he could, to do right by them.

August 7th, 2025

“What do you think about Nikita for a name?” You asked Max.

Max had just spent the last few hours trying to figure out the directions to put together the furniture that would be going in the baby’s room. After spending a few hours figuring out how the directions worked, he was now sitting on the couch in the family room with you looking through a book filled with baby names.

Max’s first thought was of Nikita Mazapin. He didn’t want a child of his, named after him.

“No.” He simply said.

“It means victory in Russian.” You offered while stroking your growing bump.

Now Max was even more against the idea. In the last few weeks, you had this idea of the baby having an Ni name like with Nico and you hadn’t let the idea go.

Max had put his gaming controller to the side pausing the current Fifa game that was on the screen.

“What about if it’s a girl?” He asked. He liked the possibility of there finally being a girl in the family. Victoria had two boys and he had Nico. Maybe it would be nice to have a little girl walking around that looked like you.

“Well, we’ll see when the baby finally comes.” You had both agreed that you wanted the gender of the baby to be a secret.

“But if it’s a boy, I know that I want him to have the middle name Daniel.”

Max couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. “Daniel?” He questioned. “My son, named after two F1 drivers. Nikita Mazapin and Daniel,” Max was okay with the baby’s middle name being taken from Daniel, Daniel was a good friend to him, a good uncle to Nico and he had been a great teammate.

You couldn’t help but look at him slightly confused. “Nikita Mazapin? I was thinking Nikita for Niki, like Niki Lauda.”

“Then why not Nikolaas, it’ll still be shortened to Niki.”

“This baby doesn’t really feel like a Nikolaas.”

“How about we make a deal? The baby is a boy, I’ll let you pick the name, anything you want. But it’s a girl I get to pick.”

Even as you agreed with Max, he knew in the end that you would get your way. He could never deny you anything. His second child, if it was a boy, was going to be named after Niki Lauda.

Max had come inside from sitting out on the terrace that led to the backyard. Nikita had been fussing a bit, probably due to the slight cold breeze this morning.

"Papa." Max heard from the hallway.

He looked up to see Nico standing outside of the door to the master bedroom. Nico was still in his pajamas holding the stuffed teddy bear that Charles had gotten him.

Max looked at Nico before moving his head to glance back at the bed where Y/N was still sleeping. He motioned for Nico to walk closer to him.

Since that moment that Nikita had come home with them, Nico had been curious about his little brother. How small he was. What type of food he was allowed to eat. When he could start to play with him.

Nico climbed onto the couch and scooted as close as he could to Max.

"Can I?" Nico asked, putting out his little hands.

Max nodded, placing the baby closer to Nico without putting him in his arms. Nico reached down to give Nikita a kiss on his forehead before the baby shifted in his swaddle.

Over the last few days, Max had noticed that Nikita wasn't a fussy baby. He only started crying when he was hungry or when he needed to be changed, besides that he just liked to sleep.

"He's small," Nico commented.

"Yes, he is. You were once that small too." Although Max had never gotten the chance to hold Nico when he was this small.

"No," Nico said with a shake of his head. Nico thought he was right about everything since Nikita had come home. As if, because he was Nikita's older brother he knew more now.

Max just nodded before Nico started to mumble at his younger brother. "Nikitha, Nikitha, Niki..." It seemed Nico had settled on before dropping his head against Max's arm and closing his eyes, his feet tucked under the blanket that was normally thrown over the couch.

Mother's Day - May 11, 2025

Everyone was coming over for Mother's Day, Max had Sophie, Victoria, her partner Tom, and Max's nephews flown in so they could spend the weekend with all of you.

Nico had already told both you and Max that he wanted to camp out in the living room with Luka and Lio when they came. Max had gone into the laundry room and pulled out extra sheets and pillows to make up the couches for the boys to sleep on. You had talked with Victoria about it and she was fine with it.

When everyone arrived you gave Victoria, Tom, and Sophie a tour of the house. The last time Sophie had been here was a week after you and Max got back from your honeymoon, and everything still wasn't unpacked. Victoria and Tom took in the house with fresh eyes, seeing the way that all of your and Max's things fit together in the new space. Nico, Luka, and Lio had gone into Nico's room to play with his toys.

The reason that you had invited everyone over was because both you and Max had been keeping the pregnancy to yourselves since you found out. You finally wanted to tell everyone since it was almost the end of your first trimester.

You had spent the first half of Sunday cooking before Max insisted that Sophie and Victoria take over for you. Sophie gave you a look that told you she knew that something was up.

When you finally sat down for dinner, food and drinks were going around the table. Tom went to fill the wine glass that was in front of you and you let him, wanting to wait to share your news until everyone had food on their plates.

You had been sitting to the left of Max when he reached for your hand, his thumb drawing little circles with the pad of his finger. You had initially planned to tell Sophie and Victoria that you were pregnant just after you and Max had gone back to the doctor. Eventually, you and Max agreed to wait until you were closer to the end of your first trimester.

About halfway through dinner, you could feel a set of eyes on you before looking up to see Sophie looking at you. She lightly tapped her wine glass with her finger before her eyes moved to yours which was still full from when Tom filled it earlier.

Max had taken the last bite of food off his plate before reaching for his glass to take a sip. His eyes traveled to you knowing that you couldn't drink any of the wine that was in your glass.

"I know that it is Mother's Day and we are all here as a family to celebrate the amazing woman in our lives who do so much for us," Max said lifting his glass. "So, Y/N and I have some news to share with you."

Everyone at the table was silent for a few moments before you spoke, "I'm pregnant."

Sophie and Victoria were quick to get out of their chairs hugging you and giving you their congratulations. Tom walked over to Max giving him a hug.

There was a piercing sound of chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor. Nico was quick to walk out of the room leaving everyone to walk downstairs with heavy steps. Victoria was quick to pull away from you and then Max moved his chair to follow after Nico.

You reached for Max's arm stopping him from following Nico, and then got up from your chair. You followed Nico into his bedroom, your fingers lightly rapping on the hardwood of his bedroom door. He looked up from where he lay in bed.

"Hi Mama," He quietly spoke.

"Hey," You moved to sit on the edge of Nico's bed.

You hadn't told Nico that you were pregnant thinking it better to wait a little.

"Are you sad that you're getting a sibling?" You asked.

Nico shook his head no, then shifted in his blue sheets dropping his head against your arm.

"You're my Mama," He whined. You moved to run your fingers through Nico's hair like you would do for Max. "I don't wanna share."

So Nico was upset that he would have to share you with the baby. "You share me with Papa." You told him.

"No, Papa shares you with me." He argued back. You gave Nico a small smile.

When Max wasn't home Nico had all of your attention, and when Max was home, Nico shared you with Max until Nico had to head to bed.

"Do you mind sharing me with Papa?" You asked him.

Nico shook his head no.

"Do you mind sharing me when Luka and Lio spend time with us?" You asked.

Nico shook his head no again and then moved his head into your lap squishing his chubby cheek into the material of your pants.

You weren't really sure what you could say to Nico about this to make him feel better. You and Max were having a baby and Nico would have to understand that the baby would need attention, a lot of attention for the first few months.

"Nico, you know that just because Papa and I are having a baby doesn't mean that we're not going to have time for you."

It was a little odd trying to reason with a four-year-old, but Nico needed to know that having a baby in the house wasn't going to change how much you loved him.

"You forget me with the baby." he blubbered.

"I'm not going to forget you, and neither is Papa." You pulled him into your lap so he could rest his head on your shoulder. "No one is going to replace you." You kissed Nico's cheek and then his hair. You looked up to see Max leaning against the doorway.

He quickly walked inside and sat on the other side of Nico. Nico looked up at Max before laying his head down again.

"How much did you hear?" You mouthed to Max.

He moved his index finger in a circle as if to say all of it. You nodded.

"Nico," Max started. "Mama and I love you, and there being a baby isn't going to change that."

Nico moved away from you and turned toward Max, "Not true."

This was one of those moments where you could tell that Nico had gotten his stubbornness from Max.

"It's true," Max said. "Mama and I are going to be busier taking care of the baby. But we're not going to love you less."

Nico threw himself into your arms, "Baby can have my toys, not my Mama."

Part of you wanted to laugh, Nico was quick to give up all of his toys before he was willing to give you up. You and Max shared a look before you both smiled at one another.

"Well, what if we told you that the baby was for you to have someone to play with?" You asked Nico.

Nico looked up at you before looking over at Max, he furrowed his brows in confusion. "I play with the baby?"

You nodded at Nico. "Yes, and you can share all of your toys with them, and get to go swimming together, and come to Paps's races."

"It's your job as the oldest to protect your younger sibling like I do with Auntie Vic." Max pointed out.

As you and Max told Nico more about the things that he got to do now that he was going to be an older brother you could tell that he was slowly coming around to the idea.

Later on in the evening after the table was cleared Nico and his cousins ended up all asleep on the living room couches while everyone else went out to the back patio. You ended up curled up against Max, his hand on your growing bump while talking with Sophie and Victoria. It was mostly the same stories that you had heard about Max as he grew up. Tom was talking with Max about the end of PSV's season before you all called it a night.

The sound of light voices woke you up, you were tired from the lack of sleep and turned towards Max's side of the bed to see the clock read one hour until you had to feed Nikita again.

You slowly sat up seeing Max, Nico, and Nikita all on the couch that the bed overlooked.

"When can we play?" Nico asked.

"He's too little to play yet," Max replied.

"But Mama said that I could play with him when he came."

"Nico, he's too young to play right now, but once he's older you can play together."

You shifted in the sheets a bit letting out an uncomfortable groan trying to sit up against the pillows behind you. Your pregnancy had gone as smoothly as possible, and the birth was close to perfect. However, you were still sore in your abdomen. Your OB told you if it didn't go away by the next time she saw you, she would end up prescribing you something mild so you could still breastfeed Nikita.

"Mijn leeuwin, are you okay?" Max asked turning away from Nico towards you.

You silently nodded, "Fine, just sore."

Nico had abandoned Max on the couch climbing into bed with you, scooting close in the king-size bed to lay next to you his feet hanging off the edge of the bed, clutching the little brown bear in his arms.

Max got up from the couch and slowly walked over before getting under the bedsheets again, you helped pull back the sheets while Max moved Nikita in his arms to his other side. Nikita's head lay against Max's shoulder still sleeping with Nico throwing his arm over your middle.

You looked over at Max, he pressed his lips together and you knew that he was trying to hold back a few tears before a wide smile broke out on his face.

"I love you." You mouthed silently.

"I love you too." He said back. He quickly reached up and kissed your hair as you snuggled in closer to his side.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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twobluejeans · 1 year

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 4: emo ponytail girl, part 3: dupeee, part 2: wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 4! the drama goes on. a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, july 3

liked by oliviarodrigo, masonmount, and 8,654,142 others

yourinstagram thank u manchester & london for an amazing 5 days. you guys were so much fun to play for. i also wanna say thank you to my two beautiful children @oliviarodrigo @gracieabrams, eternally grateful for u guys flying in last minute to leave manchester w a bang. love u all so so much. see u soon amsterdam🖤

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oliviarodrigo 🥹🥹🥹🥹

gracieabrams i love you thank you 🤍

augustbridgelvr my founding fathers

TWITTER, july 3

INSTAGRAM, (stories)

yourinstagram 1h (july 4)

viewed by kimkardashian, maudeapatow, and 678,892 others

INSTAGRAM, july 4

liked by selenagomez, neymarjr, and 8,345,146 others

yourinstagram happy independence day from me n a few of my favorite people 🤍

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arianagrande love uuu!!!

yourinstagram arianagrande i love u more

canyonmoondeservesjustice why can i not picture all of them in the same room like 🧍🏽‍♀️

danielriccardo damn who’s that guy on the 3rd pic in white?? he’s so 😍😍

landonoriss danielriccardo me when i lie

yourinstagram danielriccardo ur gonna let him do u like that??

danielriccardo landonorris yourinstagram girl bye you’re just jealous you aren’t as pretty as me 🤷

danielriccardo notice how it got quiet. EXACTLY.🙄

TWITTER, july 10

liked by 55sainzleclerc16, lolaransdellfan, and 103,728 others

charlesleclercdaily Charles and Lola Ransdell at Wimbledon today!

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kingofmyh3art_ bye i’m crying he really out here winning the idgaf war 😭😭

55sainzleclerx Bro i can't get over the fact that she's the spitting image of Y/n

landoxcharles16 no bc why is every f1 driver entering their hoe era

szafanaccount12 landoxcharles16 no literally like charles gives me the ick now

INSTAGRAM, july 10

liked by leclercmidnight, sainzrace, and 234,122 others

cl16daily Charles with a fan tonight in london

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youtolerateity/n dad pls wake up and come home

driverczains he looks so nice too UGHH

i2lvsrry She said to him that her favorite album was lover lol 💀😭

purrfecy/n/n i2lvsrry SHE DID NOT 💀

enchntdtwilight i2lvsrry SHE ALSO SAID THAT HE JUST SMILED AND LAUGHED AFTER SHE TOLD HIM

lewis44girls enchntdtwilight how do you know that??

enchntdtwilight lewis44girls I saw the original video on tik tok and she said that in a comment.

replovers hi 👋 im the girl in the picture! i was scared to approach him bc he was eating dinner with his new gf and i didn’t want to disturb him or anything so i waited until he was done. charles was very nice and talkative. i did mention that my favorite album was lover bc..it is. he just smiled and awkwardly chuckled. he then changed the subject and i got the hint. his new girlfriend, lola, actually took the photo too. she looks mean but she’s actually really nice, i can’t lie. she complimented my shoes. she was standing besides charles the whole time and had her hands locked with his, she looked kind of uncomfortable to be around cameras and get that kind of attention which is understandable yk.

mrrwoballstyles bruh they’re literally betty, august, and james 😭 NOT THE FOLKLORE LOVE TRIANGLE BECOMING REAL

IMESSAGES, july 10

TWITTER, july 11

INSTAGRAM, july 11

liked by charlesleclerc, wolfiecindy, and 546,992 others

lolaransdell two tickets for barbie please

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ricciardofavboy i could SMELL the comments

herbffsinsta gorgeous gorgeous girly

lolaransdell herbffsinsta love uuu

grussellgirl where’s charles?

goldenstyles wow the power of plastic surgery and good lighting

haileybieber She knows she's the hottest 😍😍

itsainzleclerc remember u were a fan girl bye

y/nzone The only way this girl got famous was because of Charles. Other than that, nobody would have known who she was except her friends and now she pops up on Google and YouTube.

INSTAGRAM, july 12

yourinstagram (story) 2h

viewed by jennierubyjane, tchalamet, and 3,456,135 others

ally's radio 📻 : so, um, secrets out? anyways, screw charles! #JUSTICEFORY/N2023 (this took me 3 hrs to make bruh, free me)

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass @dakotali @405rry @topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant @hevburn @itsmytimetoodream @ivegotparticulartaste @crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010 @scenesofobx @christinabae @magical-spit @dessxoxsworld @myareadsbooks @honethatty12 @hopefulinlove @diasnohibng @gentlemonsterjennie1 @hummusxx @eugene-emt-roe @taestrwbrry @pejarma @cxcewg @chimchimjiminie16 @glow-ish @allywthsr

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thebirdsandthebats · 1 year

Text

Tim’s family thinks he can cook really well.

He didn’t mean for this to go so far. It had been a misunderstanding by a well-meaning Dick the last time he was in Gotham and stopped by the boat to visit. Tim had reheated some leftovers in his fridge from the night before, and Dick’s eyes lit up the moment Tim set the plates down.

“Wow, that looks amazing,” he’d commented. Tim, exhausted from a long patrol and preoccupied with dread of having to wake up early, had merely agreed. Of course Bernard’s cooking looked amazing. He was almost as big on presentation as he was on flavor.

“Yeah. Tastes even better.”

What he didn’t realize was that Dick had assumed he made the food. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that Dick loved to brag on his siblings. The next week, Stephanie stopped by unannounced to visit.

“I can’t believe how much you like it here. In a good way, obviously,” she’d grinned while Tim heated up some of the french onion soup that his boyfriend had made him. Tim laughed as he used a terry cloth to handle the hot bowl, placing it down in front of Steph.

He sat next to her with his own bowl. The random visits were odd. But on the bright side, the need to be a good host was kind of forcing him to eat on a more normal schedule. Two birds, one stone he guessed.

“Yeah. I like the marina a lot,” he blew lightly on his spoonful, the soup still steaming hot. “The atmosphere is so different from anywhere I’ve lived. I think being around the marina folk has been good for me—”

“Ohmygod.”

Tim looked over, startled by the outburst. Steph was staring at her soup with wide eyes. Her hand covered her mouth. Tim’s brows drew close together in confusion. “Are you okay? Did you burn your tongue?”

Steph grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip. “You’ve been holding out on us!” She accused.

“Wh—”

“You’ve been sticking to easy foods when you cook at the manor, but here you have the good stuff!” Tim frowned at her words. The realization was beginning to sink in. Did she think he made the soup? He knew how to cook, but he was nowhere near his boyfriend’s level. Bernard was literally in school to be a chef. He liked to practice his assignments at Tim’s boat, suffering through using his poor excuse for a kitchen all so he could leave Tim with the food when it was finished.

Tim opened his mouth to break the news to Steph, but their phones rang out with the high pitched drone that meant someone needed backup. Stephanie sighed. She lifted the bowl and downed all she could in a few swallows before leaping to her feet. “Job never ends, huh?” She offered Tim a hand up, and he took it without hesitation.

“Nope. Let’s suit up.”

After that night, Tim forgot to correct her. He was busy, and his family getting the wrong idea about his cooking abilities just didn’t make the top of his priority list. Bernard kept cooking when he spent nights over, and family kept dropping by on other nights, somehow never crossing paths. Tim’s neighbors seemed perplexed on how he’d gone from only ever letting his boyfriend in to having company every other night. And Tim just…couldn’t find the right moment to set the record straight.

Everything came to a head in the summer, not too long after Tim’s birthday. He was sprawled out on his couch, head resting in Bernard’s lap as the blonde’s fingers scratched lightly at his scalp. It was the lazy kind of day they didn’t often get to spend together, and Tim was feeling warm and drowsy. That was, until his phone dinged with several text notifications, and he dug it out with a grumble to see who needed him.

stop spamming the gc

Dick: it’s august .. here we go

Steph: birthday month babey!!

Duke: my wallet…

Cass: Dami, Jason, Steph, and Duke all get the bday cake in their contact names :)

Steph: Tim I know you’re lurking. for the birthday month we all want you to bring GOOD FOOD TO THE FUNCTION PLS AND TY

Damian: do not forget my dietary restrictions if you do so.

Steph: you text like you’re 84

Tim groaned and let his phone clatter to the floor. Bernard’s fingers paused in his hair. “Bad news?” He asked, concern painting his voice.

Tim shook his head and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Not really. It’s just—um. You know how you always leave food here for me?” He tilted his head back to look Bernard in the face, and his breath caught for a moment when he saw that his boyfriend was already looking down at him.

He snickered at Tim’s expression. “Yeah? Do you need more?” He asked. Tim was baffled by the question. His fridge hadn’t been empty in ages, and even with his frequent guests, Bernard made such large portions that it took him days to finish a dish. He had more than enough.

“No, it isn’t that. My family…” he hesitated, wondering how dumb this was going to sound. But Bernard was waiting, watching him expectantly, and these days he’d started filling in the gaps himself whenever Tim’s words trailed off thoughtfully. If he didn’t finish speaking quickly, Bernard would have an entirely new problem invented.

“…um, they think I can cook.”

Bernard burst out laughing.

Tim’s face burned pink. “Wh—hey,” he complained at the reaction. “I know how to cook, why are you laughing?”

Bernard wiped the corner of his eye, giggling like a maniac. “Sorry, sorry! You said that like you were coming out to me, and also I’ve seen you sauté,” he managed, and Tim rolled his eyes at the memory. He had sautéed just fine…mostly.

When Bernard was finished laughing at him and had caught his breath again, Tim explained his situation and showed him the texts. He raised an eyebrow. “Jeez. Four August birthdays? And they expect you to cook for all of them?”

Tim sighed. “Yeah. I could just tell them they’ve got the wrong guy, but now it’s birthday month and we’ve gotta plan quick.” It was actually a very rare occurrence that they got together for every birthday in August. Their schedules were so unpredictable. But all 4 was the goal.

Bernard chewed his lip in consideration. “Okay. What if…you give me a list of each of their favorite foods and any restrictions, and I’ll make the food.” He proposed. Tim sat up, turning to face the blonde fully now.

That was way too much work for somebody already cooking for assignments. Plus, Tim didn’t want to pretend he was the one cooking anymore. He said as much to Bernard, who refused to look fazed.

“First off, I can cook 4 meals in my free time. Easy. And second off, I guess you’ll just have to bring me with you to clear up any misunderstandings,” he grinned.

Tim perked up instantly. That was…a perfect solution, actually. Everything would be cleared up, he wouldn’t have to show up without what was expected of him, and the best part, he’d get to bring Bernard with him. He’d been itching to start working his boyfriend into more of his family’s meetups because it was looking like their relationship was pretty serious. He wanted to be able to bring him to their holidays, parties, and dinners. This was a perfect opportunity to start.

He leaned in and kissed Bernard’s cheek. It would never cease to amuse him how a real kiss on the lips was nothing to his boyfriend, but Tim kissing his face always had him turning red.

“Oh.” Bernard touched his face. “You have a crush on me or something?” He teased weakly, and Tim laughed as he settled back down on the couch, his head resting in Bernard’s lap as his fingers found his hair again.

A week later, Tim showed up to the manor with Bernard following close behind, a pan of vegan chili noodles in his arms. Dick opened the door. He beamed once he saw Tim.

“Hey! C’mon, everyone is already inside, so if you brought the food you can…” he trailed off as he finally spotted Bernard behind Tim, who was fighting to keep a straight face. He blinked. “Oh, is this…?”

Bernard carefully balanced the dish in one hand and stretched out the other in greeting. “I’m the chef.” He said with barely contained glee.

The realization seemed to hit Dick all once. His mouth parted in surprise. He glanced back and forth between Tim and Bernard. Finally, he shook his head in disbelief. “You know, this actually makes…so much more sense. Sorry, Tim.”

“Wh—excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?”

#This was meant to just be a silly post but it got away from me #I HAVENT POSTED A FICLET IN. idk. CENTURIES #ficlet #fic #dc comics #batfamily #tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake robin #td:r

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