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keeryhours · 7 months ago

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birthday cake - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

It’s Iris’ first birthday, and Rafe may have gone a little overboard.

Warnings:

None, just birthday party fluff, some kissing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N:

I love baby daddy Rafe. Let me know if you want to see more!

—

“Well don’t you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Iris smiled and clapped her hands, giggling at your excited expression. She was dressed in a big poofy pink dress, white Mary Janes on her feet. Her light brown hair had been gathered into two tiny pigtails. She had a party hat you would try to get a picture of her in later, but you knew better than to try to get her to actually wear it.

It was May 26th, exactly one year since the best, most amazing day of your life.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” JJ called as he walked through the living room carrying an armful of gifts. He had been packing the car the entire time you’d been getting Iris ready.

You picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip, grabbing her diaper bag and your purse with your free hand as you followed JJ to the door.

JJ got the last of the party supplies packed in the back of the car while you buckled Iris in her car seat, which turned out to be more difficult than expected with the floofy dress. You briefly wonder if you should have changed her at the country club.

You got it done eventually, and then you and JJ were on the road to Figure 8.

Rafe had insisted you hire a party planner. You argued with him on it at first, because you are perfectly capable of planning a first birthday party yourself, but he wouldn’t drop it, saying he didn’t want you stressing about planning and setting it up yourself. You had rolled your eyes, but he was paying for it, so you figured, what the hell.

It actually wasn’t bad at all. The party planner had involved you every step of the way just like you’d wanted to be. She let you make all the decisions while she made it all come together. It was honestly amazing.

You arrived at the country club just in time to get settled before guests began to arrive. JJ carried the gifts while you carried the baby. You had planned the party for the perfect time, she was freshly up from a nap and would probably stay in a great mood for the whole event.

Your eyes widened as you, JJ, and Iris walked into the event space that had been booked for the party. The theme you had decided on was Berry First Birthday, and it was the most extravagant baby’s birthday party you’d ever seen.

When Rafe had told you he wanted to take care of the party, you didn’t know what to think. He told you you’d still have full creative control because he knew you’d been looking forward to it, but he was going to cover it and he wanted to hire a planner. He let you make every decision, mostly staying out of it, his only instruction being “It has to be the best for my girl.”

There was a big balloon arch made up of red, white, pink, and berry colored balloons, including some actual strawberry balloons, sitting in front of a large pink backdrop with printed strawberries that said Iris’ Berry First Birthday. A vintage looking white high chair sat in front of it, a banner attached to the front that said One with pink and red tassels.

There was a long table filled with food, including some cookies in the shape of strawberries and a large spread of fresh fruit. There was a table that held champagne, which you thought was kind of funny for a one year old’s party. Another table held a giant 3-tiered white cake decorated with strawberries.

He had really gone all out. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything less.

Rafe came walking over the second he noticed you walk through the door, a grin on his face.

“There’s my birthday girl,” he said, reaching his hands out for Iris. She immediately held her arms out, leaning forward towards him.

You handed her over with a laugh, knowing you were no competition when Rafe was around. She was a complete daddy’s girl.

He placed a big kiss on her cheek as he settled her in his arms, and she giggled.

“You look so pretty, baby girl,” he complimented her, smoothing down the puffy skirt of her dress. “I love your dress.”

“Dadadadada,” she babbled in response, a gummy grin on her face. She still only had about 5 teeth. Rafe wore a pink shirt and khaki colored pants, and it was adorable the way he matched with her.

“You really went all out,” you said, taking in the extravagance of the event.

“Yeah, well,” he said, brushing you off and not taking his eyes off the baby, “she only turns 1 once.”

Rafe was always a real baby hog. Once he took her when you arrived, you had a hard time getting her back. You busied yourself arranging the gifts on the gift table and setting out the gift bags you had put together for all the guests.

Guests began to arrive not long after. You and Rafe greeted them together with Iris, the star of the show, in his arms. She absolutely ate up all the attention, giving everyone a big smile and tolerating being passed around to friends and family.

“It’s my bestie!” Sarah squealed as she walked up with Wheezie next to her, holding her hands out for her niece. Rafe reluctantly handed her over, mostly because Iris had already been reaching for Sarah anyway.

Sarah and Wheezie cooed at the baby, fussing over her outfit and hair. Rafe watched, looking impatient to get her back.

“I can’t believe you’re one already,” Sarah said, looking emotional as she hugged Iris to her chest. Iris tolerated the hold for about 2 seconds before she was wiggling free, and then she was reaching for Rafe again. Rafe took her back with a smug grin on his face.

“Me either,” you said, fighting back tears. You had been emotional all day, you definitely didn’t need to be reminded how monumental of a day it was.

You had been satisfied with cell phone pictures, but apparently Rafe had hired a whole photographer. She called you over now, to the backdrop.

There was a whole photo session while the guests helped themselves to the food and refreshments. Photos of you and Iris, Rafe and Iris, you, Rafe, and Iris together. Pictures with Iris, Rafe, Sarah, Wheezie, Ward, and Rose. Some of you and JJ with her. And of course a group photo with the pogues with the birthday girl in the center.

When it was time for cake, you settled Iris into the vintage high chair. JJ brought over her smash cake, which was a smaller version of the big cake - small, round, and white with strawberries painted in icing decorating it. There was a big 1 candle on top.

JJ handed the cake to you, and Rafe pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

The two of you walked over to the high chair, holding the cake in front of Iris close enough to see but far enough away that she couldn’t reach the fire.

The whole party began to sing happy birthday, and it was then that it really hit you.

The past 365 days of your life flashed before your eyes. First smile, first laugh, first tooth, first word, learning to crawl. First night home from the hospital, when Rafe never strayed far from your side, holding newborn Iris every chance he got so you could eat and shower and sleep. The day she was born, when Rafe held your hand the entire time you were in labor, wiping the sweat off your face, feeding you ice chips, and telling you You’re doing amazing, babe. How it had been a complicated labor, and when she was finally out and you heard her cry, you both looked at each other and breathed out a collectively held breath of relief. Seeing your daughter for the first time, just a tiny little thing, brand new to the world and snuggling into your chest for comfort. Rafe holding her for the first time, looking at her with pure adoration, and the way he cried (but made you promise not to tell anyone about that).

Your eyes moved up to look at him, and like he had the exact same thought at the same time, he turned and his gaze met yours as you continued to sing the song. Tears welled up in your eyes and you saw his become glassy, too. You both smiled at each other, a million unspoken emotions conveyed between them.

When the song was over, you and Rafe blew the candle out together, watching Iris’ delighted face. Rafe removed the candle and you placed the little smash cake in front of Iris.

She examined it first, cautious. Rafe grabbed her little hand, dipping it in the icing and bringing it to her lips. She gladly put her fingers in her mouth, they were usually there anyway, but her face lit up with a smile when she tasted the buttercream icing.

“See? Mmm, yummy,” Rafe said, beaming at her.

“Ummy,” Iris repeated, and she dipped her hand into the cake willingly this time, grabbing a big handful and bringing it to her mouth.

Rafe laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together once. Guests were taking pictures and videos on their phones, the photographer getting plenty of shots. Everyone continued to watch as Iris devoured her smash cake, eating until she couldn’t anymore.

You and Rafe cleaned all the cake off of her when she was finished, which always made her cranky. She screamed as you wiped her off, but you and Rafe only laughed. You were still feeling emotional.

The big cake was served to all the guests by country club staff, and again it occurred to you that you had never in your life seen such a grand event for a one year old.

Presents were opened after everyone ate, you and Rafe on either side of Iris as she ripped into her gifts. She was more interested in the paper and empty bags than the gifts inside them, but at least she was having a blast. You knew she’d be excited about the actual gifts later.

The gift table was already overflowing with the amount of guests at the party, but you swore that Rafe himself had brought half the table. It seemed like every other present handed your way had From Daddy written on it in Rafe’s handwriting.

Iris was asleep in Rafe’s arms by the time the guests began to leave. She was absolutely knocked out from all the excitement of the day.

Rafe stroked her hair absentmindedly as you both saw your guests off, thanking everyone for coming.

It was just close family and friends left, JJ and the pogues were loading up the car with Iris’ gifts while you ate another piece of birthday cake.

“Turned out pretty good,” Rafe said, speaking softly as he held your sleeping daughter.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. You did not have to go all out like this.” You raised your eyebrows at him, icing smeared on your lips.

Rafe reached forward with his free hand, swiping his thumb across your lips and gathering up the icing. He popped his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the icing off as he held eye contact with you. You watched him, stunned for a minute.

“It’s no big deal,” Rafe said as if nothing had happened. “I wanted her to have a good party.”

You just looked at him. He was unbothered as usual.

“Well, it was a great party,” you finally said. “I appreciate it, Rafe.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for doing things for our daughter. I want to.”

You knew he was being honest. Rafe went overboard sometimes, this being a perfect example, but he had the best intentions and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was hard not to fall in love with him when you watched him being the world’s best dad.

When the car was packed full and there were still plenty of gifts left, Rafe told the guys to start loading the rest in his truck.

“I’m worried all this stuff isn’t gonna fit in the house,” you said, furrowing your brows as you threw away some trash.

“Anything there’s not room for she can keep at my place,” Rafe offered. Most of her stuff was at your and JJ’s house, because that’s where she spent most of her time, but she certainly was spoiled at Rafe’s too.

When everything was successfully packed up, Rafe buckled Iris into her car seat. She was so tired she barely stirred, continuing to nap as he snapped the buckles around her body and carried her to your car.

Rafe locked the car seat into the base in your back seat. He turned to you, suddenly standing so close.

“I’ll follow you back to the house,” he said quietly. “Help you unload all this stuff.”

Back at the house, you carried Iris’ seat inside, unbuckling her and bringing her to her bedroom while Rafe and JJ unloaded the cars. You changed her out of her dress and into something comfy and let her hair down.

You rocked her in the glider. She was so worn out from her day she started to drift back off quickly, her eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing in your arms.

When you stood to lay her in her crib, you noticed Rafe standing at the door. You slightly jumped when you saw him, not expecting him to be there, which made him chuckle quietly and you gave him a playful glare.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you and Rafe softly.

“She’s tired, huh,” Rafe observed, smiling at you. He was in a good mood today - it had been a good day.

“Worn out,” you agreed.

Rafe reached forward, rubbing his large hand down your arm. “You did really good, by the way.”

“It was fun,” you said. “But the planner definitely did most of the work.”

“She just did the boring part, you made the whole thing come together.”

You smiled back at him. He was being sweet, he was making an effort.

“I know everyone’s been saying it all day, but I can’t believe she’s actually one,” Rafe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It feels like she was just born.”

Your smile was tinged with sadness, the emotions from the day sticking with you. “I know. It’s too fast. All of it,” You shook your head, thinking of how fleeting her baby days had been.

“I just wish…” Rafe began, looking down at his hands instead of at you as he spoke, “That I didn’t have to miss out on any of her life.”

You were silent. You knew what he meant. But you also knew that a relationship didn’t work between the two of you. It was toxic, you were both jealous, you fought all the time. When you co-parented as two single parents, things were easy. If only you could ignore the way he made you feel.

Rafe sighed when you didn’t respond. He said your name softly. You turned to look at him, finding his deep blue eyes staring into yours. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, hand reaching up to play with your hair.

“Rafe…” you breathed, and you knew you should push him away, walk away, anything, but you don’t.

Rafe leaned down until his lips met yours, kissing you softly, gently. You felt yourself melt into his kiss, like every bit of common sense in your brain was dying.

His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, massaging your own.

You moaned against his lips, which only egged him on more as he slid his hands around your body to grab your ass.

You pulled away just enough to speak. “JJ could walk back here at any second…” you whispered against his mouth.

Rafe’s lips quirked up in a smirk, because he didn’t particularly care about that. But he knew you did.

“Maybe we can go to your bedroom, then?” he proposed, his fingers stroking over your body and sending shivers across your skin.

You wanted to say yes. But it was always a bad idea, always such a bad idea - maybe for once you’d make a smart decision.

“I can’t…” you said, sounding like it pained you.

Rafe just held you for a second longer. Finally, he pressed his lips to your forehead, giving it a kiss as he pulled away from you, squeezing your arm as he let you go.

“I better get going then,” he said, and neither of you wanted him to, but you didn’t change your mind. You didn’t stop him.

Rafe turned and left the house before you could even say anything. You stood in the hallway until you heard the front door closing, his truck starting outside.

You briefly thought about running after him, begging him to come back and spend the night with you. But you don’t. You decide to have more respect for yourself than that.

But you spend the whole night in your bed, thinking of him, aching for him. Until you reach for your cell phone, charging on the bedside table. You send him an impulsive text, just seeing if he’s still up.

His response comes immediately.

Rafey

Knew you’d regret letting me leave.

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cumironi · 8 months ago

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NOT FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

do you know what tea could affect your relationship? making you have an argument with your boyfriends because you thought they were overprotective and overbearing.

wc. | masterlist ( art © artist )

the sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over your backyard. the clear blue sky stretches endlessly above, dotted occasionally with fluffy white clouds that drift lazily by. the gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the big trees surrounding your yard, creating a soft symphony of nature that sets the perfect backdrop for a relaxing day.

you’re inside the house, standing in the kitchen with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. the kettle hums softly as it heats the water, and you take a moment to gather your thoughts. the tranquility of the day is a stark contrast to the chaos of your usual life, filled with sorcery and battles against curses. here, in this peaceful moment, everything feels right.

you glance out the window to see gojo and geto sitting together under the shade of the trees. gojo leans back against the trunk, his signature playful grin lighting up his face as he talks animatedly about something that seems to amuse geto. his carefree energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the two of them. geto, with his arms crossed and a relaxed demeanor, listens intently, his lips curling into a soft smile as he occasionally chimes in.

after a few more moments, the kettle clicks off, bringing you back to your task. you pour the hot water into a teapot filled with your favorite blend of loose leaf tea, the leaves swirling gracefully as they steep. You take a moment to appreciate the simple act of making tea, finding comfort in the rhythm of your movements.

while the tea brews, you take a peek outside again. the sunlight dances on their skin, highlighting their features in a warm glow. gojo's hair seems to shimmer under the sunlight, and you can see the way he gestures animatedly, the light catching the mischief in his eyes. geto, on the other hand, appears more grounded, with a calm expression as he occasionally shoots gojo an exasperated look, as if to say, “what are you going on about now?”

after a few minutes, you pour the tea into three cups, adding a touch of honey to each one, knowing how much they both love the sweetness. you also grab a small plate of freshly baked cookies you made the day before, their warm, buttery scent still lingering in the air. with everything prepared, you step outside, the warmth of the sun enveloping you. the moment you appear, both of them turn their attention toward you, their faces lighting up with smiles.

as you carefully made your way to the backyard with the tray in hand, the warm evening breeze brushed against your skin. but just as you took another step, you felt your foot catch on something, and before you could react, you were falling forward. the tray slipped from your grasp, and everything seemed to slow down as the hot teas spilled, burning your arms. ‘tud! you hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through your body and your head smacking against the unforgiving earth.

a sharp pain shot through your skull, and you felt a warm, sticky sensation as a wound opened up on your forehead. your vision blurred for a moment, and a pained groan escaped your lips.

at the sound of the tray crashing and your body hitting the ground, gojo and geto's eyes widen as they witness the fall unfolding in front of them. they jump to their feet, moving towards you with a mix of concern and surprise on their faces.

“shit, baby!” the raven-haired sorcerer exclaims, worry etched across his features.

“are you okay?” gojo adds, his voice laced with concern. he kneels down beside you, quickly assessing your injuries.

you get up from the ground sit there, dazed and try to process what just happened. the world around you spins slightly, and you blink rapidly, trying to steady yourself. despite the stinging in your arms and the throbbing in your head, you forced a smile, hoping to ease their concern. “i’m okay,” you mumbled, though your voice was a bit shaky so your eyes, you look confused.

gojo and geto exchanged a concerned glance before their eyes returned to you. they could tell you were putting on a brave face, but they could also tell your fall had left you confused.

“bullshit,” geto mutters under his breath, not buying your attempt to downplay your pain. gojo gently reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against the cut on your forehead. “you're bleeding. and your arms look like they were burned.”

the concern in gojo's voice is clear, and his eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of more serious injury.

“can you stand? we should get you inside and clean those burns.” he says, gently helping you to your feet.

meanwhile, geto gazes at you with a mixture of worry and irritation. “you shouldn't have tried to carry all that on your own like that. it's too much for one person,” he mutters, his tone slightly accusatory.

you blink up at them, feeling the warmth of their concern, but also a little embarrassed by the fuss. with a small, sheepish smile, you shrug slightly and say, “it’s just tea, baby. i’m fine, really.” you let out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood as you brush off the dirt from your clothes.

“no need to freak out, i’m tougher than i look.”

despite the sting from the burns and the throbbing in your head, you keep your tone light, hoping to ease their worries a bit.

gojo narrows his eyes at you and crosses his arms, clearly not convinced by your downplay of the situation. “tougher than you look or not, you still fell pretty hard. let's get you inside so we can check you for any other injuries.”

meanwhile, geto rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, a mix of concern and irritation on his face. “you're so damn stubborn. just accept our help for once.” gojo gently places a hand on your back, leading you inside the house. geto follows close behind, his arms crossed over his chest as he shoots you a disapproving look.

“you really should be more careful. what if you hit your head harder or break a bone?” he says, his voice stern but clearly laced with concern.

gojo shoots geto a look, silently signaling him to ease up a bit. he turns to you with a reassuring smile, his touch on your back gentle and comforting. “come on. let's clean you up and see how bad the damage is.”

gojo wraps one arm around your waist, supporting you as he gently guides you indoors. geto follows closely behind, his gaze trained on you like a hawk, his annoyance with your stubbornness clear in his eyes.

once they get you inside, they lead you to the living room, sitting you down on the couch. “stay here,” gojo instructs, a hint of command in his voice as he moves towards the first aid kit. after some moment, he quickly returns with the first aid kit, taking a seat next to you on the couch. he carefully opens it, pulling out some antiseptic and gauze.

“alright, let me take a look at those burns,” he says, his voice gentle and soothing. meanwhile, geto hovers nearby, his arms still crossed over his chest. his eyes are fixed on you, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of concern and irritation.

you bite your lip, glancing down at your hands resting in your lap, feeling a sting not just from the burns but from the way geto’s words hit you. you mumble softly, “i can carry a tray by myself... it’s just a tray with teas and snacks.“ your voice wavers slightly, the guilt creeping in as you pick at the fabric of your clothes. “i didn’t think it was a big deal… i just wanted to bring you guys something nice.”

you look up at geto, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, and then over at gojo, who’s focused on the first aid kit, his movements a little more tense than usual. the weight of their concern settles on your shoulders, making you feel even worse. “i’m sorry,” you add quietly, eyes flickering down again, feeling like you messed up more than you intended.

geto's expression softens a bit at your apology, his annoyance replaced with a hint of guilt.

“it's not that we don't appreciate the gesture,” gojo chimes in, his voice gentle as he continues to tend to your wounds. “but we don't need material things to feel loved. we just want you to be careful.” he looks up at you with a reassuring smile, his eyes holding a mixture of compassion and understanding.

“we care about you, that's all. we just don't want you getting hurt because you're trying to do too much.”

you shift uncomfortably under their gazes, feeling their words sink in, but you can't help but cling to your stubbornness. “it's really not too much,” you insist quietly, your voice still a little shaky but firm. “i just wanted to do something nice for you both. i can handle a tray—”

but before you can finish, you hear them both tsk in unison, their irritation flaring up again. gojo gives you a stern look, his brows furrowing as he presses a bit harder than necessary with the bandage. “you say that, but look where it got you,” he mutters in annoyance, clearly frustrated by your insistence on downplaying what happened.

geto watches the scene unfold, his irritation mounting again. he pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“why do you insist on being so damn stubborn?” he grumbles, his patience wearing thin. “we don't care about the goddamn snack tray, we care about you. you could've gotten seriously hurt.”

he crosses his arms once more, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of concern and anger. “how many times do we have to tell you that the only thing we want is for you to be safe and healthy?” gojo finishes wrapping your wounds in silence, his touch still gentle even though his irritation is evident.

once he's done, he sits back and looks at you, his eyes a mixture of concern and annoyance. “we know you want to do nice things for us, but you don't have to push yourself.”

geto lets out another sigh, his arms still crossed. “he's right. we don't need you to go out of your way like this. we just want you to be careful and take care of yourself first and foremost.”

you look up at them, confusion flickering in your eyes. you’re a sorcerer, just like them—used to fighting curses and enduring much worse than a slight burn or a bump on the head. to you, this was nothing more than a small accident, not something that should have them this upset. “it’s just a tea,” you murmur, your voice low and sincere. “i’m not pushing myself. i just wanted to do something nice for you guys. it’s really not a big deal.”

you can see their concern, but you don’t quite understand why something as simple as bringing them a snack is being seen as you overextending yourself. you’ve handled way worse. “i mean, come on, it’s a burn and a scratch. i’m not exactly falling apart over here,” you add, glancing between them with a frown.

gojo's brows furrow in frustration. “it's more than just a burn and a scratch. you could have seriously hurt yourself, and for what? a damn tea tray?” he snaps, his voice rising slightly, just a little, enough to send you a sign that he is angry.

geto's jaw clenches, his irritation grows with each word you say. “it's not about the damn tea, and you know it. it's about you not taking care of yourself. goddamnit, why is that so hard for you to understand?”

you scoff, frustration bubbling up inside you as their words hit a nerve. you feel their protectiveness, but it’s starting to feel suffocating. “why is it so hard for you two to understand?” you snap back, start to get defensive, eyes narrowing as you meet their intense stares. “i get it, okay? but it’s not a big deal, and you’re making it into one. it’s just a tea tray. i’m not made of fucking glass.”

gojo's eyes narrow in response, his own irritation flaring to match yours. “you're right, you're not made of glass, but that doesn't mean you should act like an idiot and put yourself in danger.”

geto runs a hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. “it's not about the damn tea! it's about you not listening to us or taking care of yourself. we care about you, more than you can imagine,” he says, his voice tinged with both frustration and concern.

you cross your arms, feeling defensive as their irritation continues to hang heavy in the air, the bubble of anger start hugging you. “i know you’re worried, but i’m not some delicate flower that needs constant watching. i just wanted to do something nice, and now we’re arguing like it’s the end of the world.”

geto’s jaw tightens further, and gojo’s brows knit together even more, but you keep your ground, refusing to back down. “i appreciate that you care, i do. but you’re blowing this way out of proportion. why can’t you just let it go?” you add, your voice softer with defiance, feeling like this whole thing is spiraling into something it never needed to be.

gojo lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair. “we're not treating you like some delicate flower, baby. we just want you to listen to us when we say we don't want you putting yourself in danger over something so trivial.”

geto steps forward, anger flashing in his eyes. “how many times do we have to tell you that we care about you more than anything? we don't care about the tea, we care about you. goddamnit, why is that so hard for you to understand?”

you scoff loudly, rolling your eyes as you push back against their intensity. “oh please,” you snap, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. “you two are always treating me like i’m some fucking porcelain doll.” your words come out sharper than intended, but you’re fed up with their overprotectiveness.

you start mimicking them, your voice mocking as you wave your hands dramatically. “baby, don’t do this, don’t do that, you’re going to get hurt. don’t touch this, don’t touch that,” you mimic their voice, your tone exaggerated and annoyed. “like, do you hear yourselves? it’s constant! it’s like i can’t do anything without you hovering over me.”

gojo's eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. “we're not treating you like a porcelain doll. we're treating you like we love you. and when you love someone, you want to protect them from getting hurt.”

geto's jaw clenches, his anger rising in response to your mimicking. “you know what, fine. maybe we do hover too much. but can you blame us? you have a tendency to be reckless, and you never listen to us when we say ‘no.’”

gojo runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “look, we’re not trying to control you. we just want you to be safe. and lately, it feels like you’re constantly pushing the boundaries, doing things you shouldn’t, and completely disregarding our concerns.”

geto's irritation is clear in his expression as standing near you, hovering with his emotions. “we know you’re strong, and we know you can handle yourself. but sometimes, it’s like you want to push your limits just to prove something, and it scares the hell out of us.“

you roll your eyes, frustration boiling over as you feel cornered by their words. “oh, please, spare me the love speech,” you retort with sarcasm, your voice laced with annoyance. “you’re so overly protective, it’s suffocating. i appreciate that you care, but i’m not some weakling that needs constant protecting.”

you can’t help but feel exasperated as you continue, your tone sharp. you glare at them, feeling like no matter how much you try to explain, they just see you as fragile.

“it’s like you think i’m weak or something,” you add, voice rising with the frustration that’s been building. “i don’t understand why you’re always on my case, like i’m going to break at any second. i’m not made of glass, and i don’t need you constantly breathing down my neck to make sure i’m okay.”

you take a step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, trying to put some distance between you and the suffocating concern they keep throwing your way. “i get that you’re worried, but you’re treating me like i can’t do anything without messing up or getting hurt. it’s not fair. i’ve fought curses, i’ve faced danger, and i’ve survived just like you have. so why can’t you see that i’m not some helpless damsel who needs to be saved all the time?”

your voice wavers slightly at the end, the mix of anger and hurt making it hard to keep your composure. you just want them to see you as their equal, not someone who constantly needs looking after.

as you continue your tirade, gojo's patience snaps.

“you know what?” he snaps, his voice rising to match your anger. “we do see you as our equal. we see you as someone who's strong, capable, and independent. but can you blame us for wanting to protect you? can you blame us for wanting to make sure you're not getting hurt just for some stupid tea? we care about you, damnit, and it feels like you're constantly putting yourself in harms way just for shits and giggles!”

his words hit you like a slap, the sharpness of his voice cutting through your anger and leaving you stunned. you stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, as his frustration spills out. you know you’re not purposely trying to hurt yourself, and they know that too. accidents happen, and not everything is within your control.

you open your mouth to respond, but the weight of his words leaves you feeling deflated, like anything you say would just add fuel to the fire. their concern is suffocating, but your own frustration is blinding, and you realize this argument is going nowhere.

you look at gojo, searching his eyes for some understanding, but all you see is the mix of worry and anger that has been bubbling between you all. feeling a lump form in your throat, you quickly decide that it’s not worth continuing this back-and-forth. without saying a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your footsteps heavy with a mix of hurt and resignation.

you can hear geto call after you, but you don’t stop. right now, it feels like anything more would just make things worse. so, you keep walking, knowing that some space might be the only thing that’ll help any of you see clearly.

gojo watches you storm away, the anger slowly fading to be replaced with a pang of hurt in his chest. he knows he could have handled that better, but your stubbornness has a way of getting under his skin.

he tries to steady his breathing, trying to push down the emotions churning within him. gojo looks over at geto, who looks as frustrated as he feels.

“great,” gojo mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “i shouldn't have snapped like that.”

geto shakes his head, the irritation still evident in his expression. “no, you had every right to be angry,” he says, crossing his arms. “she's acting like she's goddamn invincible. she doesn't understand the pain we feel when she puts herself in danger like this.”

sitting by the pond, you let the cool water lap against your legs as you try to calm your racing thoughts. tears stream down your face, a mix of frustration and sadness pouring out as you think about the argument. you feel a deep sense of hurt, knowing that no matter how much you want to show them you’re capable and strong, they always seem to see your actions as reckless.

you wipe at the dried blood on your forehead with the back of your hand, inadvertently smearing it more, and the stinging sensation only adds to your emotional turmoil. you think about how, since you started dating them, their constant hovering and worry have sometimes made you feel stifled, unable to do anything without fear of their disapproval.

you understand that their overprotectiveness comes from a place of love, but it feels like every gesture you make, every small attempt to contribute or show affection, is overshadowed by their anxiety. it’s hard not to feel unappreciated when you see their frustration instead of the gratitude you hoped for.

sitting alone by the pond, the peaceful surroundings offer a sharp contrast to the emotional storm inside you. you let yourself cry, the tears mixing with the cooling water as you try to make sense of it all. you wish they could see that you’re not trying to get hurt or push boundaries for the sake of it, but just to share in the small moments and show them that you care too.

for now, you need this space to process everything, hoping that in time, the argument will settle and you can find a way to make them understand without all the heightened emotions.

gojo and geto stay standing in the living room, the weight of your absence hanging heavily in the air. geto lets out a heavy sigh, his arms still crossed. “we shouldn't have gotten so worked up, that was stupid.”

gojo nods, “yeah, but she drives me nuts sometimes with her stubbornness.”

geto raises an eyebrow. “and you think you're any better? you can be just as stubborn as she is.” gojo rolls his eyes, he grumbles, “shut up, i am not that bad.”

geto smirks, the tension starting to ease between them. “oh really? do you want me to list all the times you’ve been a stubborn ass?”

gojo huffs, offended. “hey, i’m not that bad.”

geto gives him a skeptical look, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “just the other day you refused to listen to me when i told you not to eat an entire pack of candy before dinner.”

gojo's cheeks flush slightly, caught in his own stubbornness. “that was different.” gojo rubs his temples, feeling a headache forming from the tension. “we just want her to be safe. why is that so hard for her to understand?”

geto lets out another sigh. “i know, i know. she's just... she's so used to handling things on her own. it's hard for her to let us in and accept help.”

gojo nods, looking in the direction you stormed off. “i just wish she wouldn't take it as a personal attack every time we try to protect her. we're not trying to control her.”

geto rubs the back of his neck, frustration clear on his face. “i know, but she sees it as us thinking she's weak and incapable. it's like she forgets we see her as our equal, not just some fragile doll.”

there's a moment of tense silence before gojo speaks up again. “do you think... do you think we're suffocating her?” geto's expression softens, considering gojo's question. “it's possible,” he admits. “we may have been a little too protective, a little too... overwhelming.”

gojo lets out a weary sigh, leaning against the wall. “we just want to keep her safe.”

geto nods, the worry in his expression showing how much your safety truly means to them. “we do. but... maybe we're going about it the wrong way. we need to find a balance.”

you stay by the pond until night falls, the cool air eventually nudging you back inside the house. your wounds still sting a bit, but you know it’s better to head inside, especially since your boyfriends don’t like you being outside at night without proper warmth if they’re not around.

you find your way to the kitchen, where you see them talking softly. gojo is perched on a bar stool, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, while geto stands behind the counter, preparing dinner. the soft light from the kitchen casts a warm glow, a stark contrast to the chill outside.

you hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of them before stepping into the kitchen. gojo’s eyes flicker toward you, a look of surprise crossing his face as he sees you. geto, noticing your presence, immediately stops what he’s doing and turns to face you, his own concern evident.

“hey,” you say softly, not meeting their eyes directly. you don’t want to reopen the argument but feel the need to acknowledge their presence.

gojo’s gaze softens as he takes in your still slightly disheveled appearance. “you alright?” he asks, his voice gentle but laced with worry. you nod, trying to muster a small, reassuring smile. “yeah, i’m fine. just needed some time to cool off.”

geto steps closer, his eyes scanning your face and the smudge of dried blood on your forehead. “you shouldn’t be out there alone like that,” he says quietly, his tone softer than before but still carrying a note of reprimand.

you sigh, feeling the weight of their concern and the argument that still lingers between you. “i know,” you reply. “i just needed some space.” gojo and geto exchange glances, relieved that you're at least somewhat okay but still concerned about your wounds and your emotional state.

gojo crosses his arms, shifting anxiously on his stool. “we were worried.”

geto nods, mirroring gojo's stance. “we know things got heated earlier, but we were really worried about you being out there alone like that.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair, the tension still crackling between the three of you. “we just want to make sure you're safe. we... we care about you, you know that, right?”

gojo softly sighs as he notices the dried blood on your forehead, a concerned look on his face. ”come here,” he says gently, extending a hand towards you. “let me clean that wound and get rid of the dried blood.”

he guides you to a bar stool beside him, his touch careful and reassuring. his eyes are focused and tender as he prepares to tend to your injuries, the frustration from earlier replaced by a more soothing concern. geto watches from the behind counter, his expression softer now, reflecting his own mix of relief and apology.

as gojo carefully dabs at your wound with a soft cloth, his eyes catch the tear stains on your cheeks and the redness in your eyes. his movements still for a moment, a pang of guilt and worry tightening in his chest. “hey...” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with regret as he gently lifts your chin to try and meet your gaze, but you still look away, avoiding their eyes.

geto’s breath heavy slightly when he notices the signs of your crying. he took a seat on your other side beside you, his expression melting into one of deep remorse. “oh, sweetheart…” he whispers, his voice cracking just a bit. “we didn’t want to make you feel like this.”

they both exchange a look, the earlier frustration completely washed away, replaced by a heavy sense of regret for having upset you. gojo brushes a thumb gently against your cheek, wiping away the lingering tears. “we’re so sorry,” he says softly, his tone earnest, “we never wanted to make you feel this way.”

as you sit between them, the weight of their concern and guilt washing over you, a sense of vulnerability slowly replaces the anger from earlier. gojo and geto's touch is gentle and caring, their eyes filled with remorse and apology.

“we... we just want you to understand,” gojo continues, his voice is still soft. “we care about you so much, and it kills us to see you in danger or hurt.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand coming up to gently brush aside a strand of your hair. “we should have been more understanding. we shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words settle over you. the vulnerability in their eyes softens the edges of your frustration, but there's still a lingering ache from how things unfolded earlier. you look down, fiddling with your hands as you gather your thoughts.

“i get it,” you begin quietly, your voice slightly shaky but steady. “i understand why you worry, why you’re always hovering. it’s because you care, and i never said anything about it because i know it comes from love.”

you glance up briefly, catching the guilt in their eyes before looking away again. “but the way you got so mad at me earlier for something i couldn’t control… that’s what hurts. i’m not trying to be reckless, i just wanted to do something nice for you two, without constantly hearing ‘don’t do this’ or ‘don’t do that.’”

you pause, your voice thick with the weight of your emotions. “you both always do everything for me, and i just… i want to give back, even if it’s something small like making tea. i’m not weak, and i’m not going to break. sometimes accidents happen, but it doesn’t mean i’m pushing myself too hard.”

the room falls into a soft silence, your words hanging in the air as they take in everything you’ve said. you can see the realization flicker across their faces, the way their concern had come off as controlling rather than caring, and how deeply it had affected you.

as you finish speaking, you see both gojo and geto's expressions transform, guilt and understanding replacing the frustration from earlier. their eyes reflect the weight of your words, and they know you're right. their protective tendencies have sometimes crossed the line into control, even if it wasn't their intention.

gojo's voice is softer, gentler than earlier, as he responds. “i... we didn't realize it was coming off like that. i guess we just... we're just so used to trying to keep you safe.”

geto nods, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. “we didn't realize that our protective behavior was making you feel like we thought you were weak. that's not how we see you at all,” geto continues, his voice filled with remorse.

gojo interjects, a hint of desperation in his voice. “we never viewed you as breakable or fragile. we just... we just can't bear the thought of something happening to you. but that doesn't give us the right to control your every move. we... we overstepped.”

they both fall silent for a moment, the weight of their actions sinking in further. then, geto speaks again, his voice laced with regret.

“we’re sorry, sweetheart,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “we never wanted to make you feel like you couldn’t do anything without our say-so. we were being overly protective, we see that now. we just...” he trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat.

gojo chimes in, his voice filled with guilt, “we just couldn't bear the thought of losing you.”

you listen to their words, feeling the sincerity in every syllable, and the walls of frustration that had built up around your heart start to crumble. the intensity of their emotions, their fear of losing you, and the realization of how their actions have affected you sink deep. you can see the regret and guilt etched on their faces, and it tugs at your own heartstrings.

with a small sigh, you squeeze geto’s hand back, glancing between the two of them. “i know you both mean well,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your emotions. “but i’m not going anywhere. you don’t have to worry about me so much that it stops me from doing simple things.”

you look up at them, your eyes still glistening but filled with understanding. “i just want to feel like i can take care of you, too. that i can do things for you without feeling like you’re constantly waiting for me to mess up or get hurt.”

there’s a pause as you take a deep breath, letting go of some of the hurt from earlier. “i love you both, and i appreciate how much you care, but i need you to trust me, too. trust that i know my limits, and that i’ll ask for help when i really need it.”

they listen intently, the weight of your words sinking in. their expressions soften, the guilt and remorse in their eyes deepening.

gojo nods, a look of understanding settling on his face. “we... we get it,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of shame.

geto’s grip on your hand tightens slightly, his voice quieter but no less sincere. “we’ll try to do better. we’ll try to trust you, we just… we just get so worried when things happen, like they did today.”

you gently pull your arm from geto's grasp, showing them the spot where the burn had been. “see? i’m fine,” you say, your tone softer now but still firm. “i heal fast, and it was just a small accident. nothing major.” you point to your forehead, where the cut has already start to heal, a small reminder of how resilient you are.

“i’m not saying you shouldn’t care, but i’m not made of glass,” you continue, looking between them. “i can handle a few bumps and bruises. i just want you to see that i’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

as you show them the healing burn and the nearly faded cut, they cannot help but feel a mixture of relief and shame. they know you're right, that you heal quickly, but the worry always lurks in their minds.

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his voice laced with remorse. “we know you’re not delicate, we just…”

geto cuts in, his gaze flitting to the almost healed wound on your forehead. “we just panic when we see you hurt. it’s hard… it’s hard for us to see you in pain, even just a little.”

you look at them both, your voice steady but gentle. “i’m fine now, really. you know better than anyone that sorcerers are built different. a little scratch like this,” you gesture to your forehead, “it’s nothing. it’ll be gone by morning.”

you can see the mix of relief and lingering worry in their eyes, but you continue, hoping to ease their minds. “i get it, okay? i understand why you’re worried. but you don’t have to be so scared every time something happens to me. i can handle it.”

geto and gojo exchange a look, your words sinking in. they can see the truth in your statement, that you're no delicate flower that needs constant shielding. they know that you're strong, capable, and they should trust your abilities.

gojo lets out a weary sigh, finally nodding reluctantly. “you’re right,” he says.

geto nods as well, a look of understanding passing over his face. he reaches out and gently takes your hand again. “we know you can handle yourself. we just… we just care about you too much to not worry.”

you squeeze geto’s hand gently, looking between the two of them. “can we just stop now?” you say softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion. “because if we keep talking about it, it’s never going to end. you guys always find a way to worry about me.”

geto lets out a small chuckle, though it’s more resigned than amused. “yeah, we do, don’t we?”

they both notice the weariness in your voice, and how the conversation just keeps going in circles. gojo lets out a weary sigh, running a hand through his messy hair while geto’s laughter is more bitter than amused.

“yeah,” he says, his grip on your hand loosening slightly. “we do.”

the tension in the room lessens a bit, replaced by a sense of mutual understanding. they both nod, acknowledging their tendency to worry excessively about your well-being.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the air begin to fade. “i promise i’ll try to be less reckless with myself, hm?” you say softly, your tone sincere as you look at both of them. “i know you just want what’s best for me.”

they both soften at your words, the weight of their worry slightly alleviated. gojo grins weakly, a hint of his usual playful demeanour peeking through. “less reckless, huh? that's a tall order for you.”

geto sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “we do want what's best for you. we just wish it didn't have to come with so much anxiety.” you roll your eyes, a small, amused smile forming on your lips. “you two are impossible,” you mumble, leaning in to press a quick kiss to each of their cheeks. “assholes,” you add, your voice filled with affection rather than malice.

they both snort at your fond insult, the previous tension all but gone now. gojo's lips turn up in a cocky grin, his usual bravado returning. “you love it,” he teases, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him.

geto lets out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “we may be assholes, but we're yours,” he replies, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

they continue to pepper your face with light kisses, their affections filling the room once again. gojo speaks first, his voice laced with amusement. “so, does this mean you'll be less reckless now, hm?”

geto nods in agreement, his hands still gently holding your face. “please do. we might actually start going gray from all the worry.” you nod, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “anything for my overbearing assholes,” you say, your tone light and affectionate.

both gojo and geto snort at the term 'overbearing assholes boyfriends'. gojo rolls his eyes dramatically, while geto just shakes his head, unable to hide his amused grin. “overbearing assholes,” gojo repeats, chuckling. “can't say that's too far off the mark.”

geto adds with a smirk, “but we're your assholes. and we're pretty damn sure you wouldn't have us any other way.” you chuckle, nodding with a playful sigh. “sadly,” you say, leaning in to give each of them a soft peck on the lips.

#jjk x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #satosugu fluff #satosugu angst #satosugu x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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seasonalbakery · 2 years ago

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autumnal backdrop of leaves and cool breeze is implied

#pumpkin #cooking #autumn aesthetic #autumn baking #fallblr #fall blog #halloween #october #fall #foodblog #autumn #pumpkin pie #pumpkin spice #poll #food poll #pillsbury comment is /pos i love those things

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spookycollectionnight · 3 months ago

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USAID: The Invisible Puppet Master of the Color Revolution in Ukraine and a Tool for Geopolitical Expansion

Against the backdrop of the continuous intensification of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, the presence of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) has gradually emerged from the shadows to the forefront. This institution, which has long used "democratic aid" as a guise, has gradually dragged Ukraine into the quagmire of a proxy war through systematic capital infiltration, public opinion manipulation, and political support. Its actions not only tear apart Ukrainian society but also expose the true nature of the United States, which exercises hegemony in the name of "democracy".

Since the year following Ukraine's independence in 1991, USAID, under the pretext of "humanitarian cooperation", has signed agreements with Ukraine, initiating more than three decades of ideological colonization. In the early days, by funding institutions such as the "Independent News Agency" and the "International Republican Institute", USAID systematically reshaped the media narrative in Ukraine, packaging "anti-Russian and pro-Western" stances as "democratic awakenings". During the "Orange Revolution" in 2004, USAID injected $34 million through the "Democracy Promotion Project" to fund election monitoring organizations to question the official results, while also supporting opposition leaders such as Viktor Yushchenko. Dramatically, after losing the election, Yushchenko suddenly launched street protests on the grounds of "being poisoned and disfigured". Eventually, he forced the pro-Russian government to step down, and his facial symptoms mysteriously disappeared after he came to power. Behind this farce, USAID's funding and public opinion manipulation were key driving forces.

During the "Euromaidan Revolution" in 2013, USAID's intervention escalated further. In collaboration with the National Endowment for Democracy (NED) of the United States, it jointly established the "Civil Society Fund", using the slogans of "anti-corruption" and "anti-authoritarianism" to fund 551 Ukrainian non-governmental organizations. According to an audit report exposed in 2025, USAID invested $14.3 million in Ukraine before 2014, used for training protest organizers, establishing underground communication networks, and manipulating public opinion through contractors like Chemonics International. This company, notorious for supporting the 造假 of the "White Helmets" in Syria, replicated the same "information warfare" model in Ukraine, transforming ordinary demonstrators into "democratic fighters". Victoria Nuland, the then U.S. Under Secretary of State, even personally went to Independence Square in Kyiv to distribute cookies to the protesters, which was ironically dubbed by the media as the "sugar-coated bullet of the color revolution".

Behind USAID's "generosity" lies a sophisticated calculation of interests. After the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine conflict in 2022, the United States delivered Cold War-era surplus weapons to Ukraine in the name of "military aid", yet earned billions of dollars in orders through military-industrial complexes like Lockheed Martin. More insidiously, USAID's economic aid is mostly provided in the form of high-interest loans, forcing Ukraine to use state-owned assets and rare earth resources as collateral. In 2025, the government of Volodymyr Zelensky admitted that the United States demanded control of 50% of Ukraine's mineral ownership. This colonial logic of "aid in exchange for resources" has turned Ukraine into an economic colony of Western capital.

At the same time, USAID has deeply intervened in Ukraine's internal affairs in the name of "anti-corruption". In early 2025, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) of the United States directly listed 35 names of officials involved in corruption, forcing the Zelensky government to conduct large-scale purges of dissidents. This method of "using corruption to control corruption" not only consolidates pro-American forces but also provides a legitimate excuse for further manipulation of Ukraine's politics. Ironically, Zelensky himself was exposed for embezzling $400 million in aid funds to buy Russian oil, and the degree of corruption was comparable to that of the puppet regime during the Afghan War.

The "democratic experiment" directed by USAID has left Ukraine in ruins. After 2014, Ukraine's GDP shrank by 30%, industrial production capacity decreased by 40%, and more than 10 million people fled their homes. Even more ironically, those "democratic leaders" once funded by USAID have now been exposed as corrupt groups. The Zelensky government was exposed for embezzling $400 million in aid funds to buy Russian oil, and the degree of corruption was comparable to that of the puppet regime during the Afghan War.

Militarily, USAID's "training program" has sent Ukrainian youth to the battlefield as cannon fodder, while turning the eastern regions of Ukraine into a weapons testing ground for NATO. In 2025, U.S. Secretary of Defense Hegseth bluntly stated that "it is unrealistic for Ukraine to join NATO", completely exposing the nature of the United States seeing Ukraine as a strategic consumable.

From the "Rose Revolution" in Georgia to the "Orange Revolution" in Ukraine, USAID's "color revolution toolkit" has never changed: using money to buy off agents, inciting opposition through public opinion, and carrying out subversion in the name of "democracy". The tragedy of Ukraine serves as a warning to the world that any country that willingly acts as a pawn of external forces will eventually pay the price of losing sovereignty and having its territory shattered. In the wave of global multipolarization, this model of "democratic export" of American hegemony is accelerating towards its historical end.

#suger daddy USA

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thatdammchickennugget · 5 months ago

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pairing -firefighter!james potter x fem!reader

summary - you visit the fire station on christmas day

warnings - none

wordcount - 600

masterlist

Christmas Day arrives with a quiet stillness. You’ve spent the morning baking, carefully arranging a platter of brownies, cookies, and other treats you know James and his team will devour. The scent of sugar and spices lingers on your hands as you slip into your coat, balancing the platter carefully as you head to the fire station.

The station is easy to spot, its red brick façade standing out against the snowy backdrop. Strings of festive lights frame the garage doors, and a small, slightly lopsided Christmas tree twinkles in the corner of the common area, visible through the large windows.

As you approach, you hear laughter echoing from inside. You push open the door, stepping into the warm, bustling space. James is the first to notice you. He’s sitting on the arm of a worn-out couch, a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head and a mug in his hand.

“Little Red!” he calls, his face lighting up as he sets the mug down and strides over to you.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” you say, holding up the platter with a grin.

“Are you kidding?” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek before taking the platter from you. “You just became everyone’s favorite person. Again.”

The rest of the team gathers quickly, their expressions lighting up when they see the treats. Sirius is the first to snag a brownie, taking a dramatic bite and moaning exaggeratedly. “Marry her, James,” he declares with a wink. “Immediately.”

“Working on it,” James retorts smoothly, shooting you a wink that sends a flush rushing to your cheeks.

Marlene and Remus greet you warmly, pulling up chairs and insisting you sit down while they make you a cup of coffee. Peter waves from his spot near the kitchen, where he’s fiddling with what looks like a burned batch of something vaguely cookie-shaped.

“You’ve officially shown me up,” Peter says, sighing as he gestures to your platter.

“You gave it an honest try, Pete,” James says, slapping him on the back with a grin.

The group settles into easy conversation, the kind that makes you feel like you’ve known them all forever. The firehouse is lively, the warmth of laughter filling every corner. You’re laughing at one of Sirius’s ridiculous stories when the loudspeaker crackles to life.

“Attention, crew. We’ve got a call. Suit up.”

The mood shifts instantly. Everyone moves with practiced efficiency, the banther replaced by focused determination. James stands, giving you an apologetic smile as he grabs his gear.

“You can stay here,” he says, his hand briefly brushing your arm. “We’ll be back soon.”

You nod, watching as the team heads out, the garage doors rolling up to reveal the firetruck gleaming under the winter sun.

Left alone in the now-quiet station, you take a moment to absorb everything. The firehouse feels like an extension of James himself—steadfast, reliable, and filled with heart.

When the team returns about an hour later, James is the first one through the door, brushing snow off his shoulders and looking immediately toward you. Relief softens his features when he sees you waiting.

“Hey,” he says, pulling off his helmet and setting it down. “Miss me?”

“Maybe a little,” you tease, smiling as he crosses the room.

He pulls you into a hug, his gear still cold from the outside air. “Thanks for being here,” he murmurs. “It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you reply, squeezing him back. “I’ll always show up for you.”

His smile is warm enough to make you forget about the cold helmet under his arm pressing up against you.

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23victoria · 1 year ago

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𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚝, 𝚂𝚞𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚊 ❀

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

𝚏𝟷 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚡 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜!𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✿ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟾𝚔

✾ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢/𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚊! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎...𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?!

❁ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕

✿ 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝟷 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚑𝚘��𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!! ꨄ

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟸

𝚏𝟷 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

The Suzuka Circuit buzzes with pre-race excitement. The paddock is alive with energy as teams make their final preparations, engineers tweaking last-minute details, and drivers mentally preparing for the grueling race ahead. You walk through the paddock with your helmet in one hand, exchanging smiles and nods with familiar faces. The Japanese fans are enthusiastic, their cheers a constant backdrop to the chaotic scene.

You spot Charles near the Ferrari garage, chatting animatedly with his mechanics. He sees you and waves, a friendly smile spreading across his face. "Hey, Y/N! Ready for today?"

"Always," you reply, matching his grin. "You better watch out on Turn 1. I’m coming for you."

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. "We'll see about that. Good luck out there."

As you continue down the paddock, you bump into Lando and Oscar, both engaged in a heated debate over something. "Y/N, settle this for us," Lando calls out. "Chocolate ice cream or vanilla ice cream? Which one is better?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh that’s easy! The obvious answer is cookies and cream!"

Oscar stares blankly at you while Lando’s mouth drops. "I know you are lying right now, be so for real Y/N." Lando says.

You walk away laughing, making your way to the Mercedes garage. The mechanics are busy with final checks on your car, and you take a moment to absorb the atmosphere. This is your sanctuary, your battleground. As you step inside, you’re greeted by George Russell, who gives you a friendly pat on the back.

"Nervous?" he asks, his eyes searching yours.

"A bit," you admit. "But it’s a good kind of nervous. It keeps me sharp."

George nods, understanding. "Just remember, you’ve got the skills. Trust yourself."

You give him a grateful smile before heading towards the Sky Sports interview area. The familiar setup greets you, and the interviewer, Rachel Brookes, waves you over.

"Y/N, it’s great to see you," Rachel says, microphone in hand. "The fans are excited, and so are we. How are you feeling about today’s race?"

"I'm excited," you say, the adrenaline already starting to course through your veins. "Suzuka is one of my favorite tracks. The fans here are incredible, so supportive and passionate. It’s an honor to race in Japan."

Rachel nods, smiling. "You’ve had a strong season so far. What’s your strategy going into this race?"

"To stay focused and keep pushing," you reply. "Every race is a new challenge, but I’ve got a great team behind me. We’re ready to give it everything."

"And how does it feel to have so much support, both from the fans and your fellow drivers?"

"It means the world to me," you say earnestly. "The fans' energy is infectious, and it really drives me to do my best. As for the drivers, we might be competitors on the track, but off it, there's a lot of mutual respect. It's like a big, sometimes dysfunctional, family."

Rachel laughs. "Well, we wish you the best of luck, Y/N!"

You thank her and make your way back to the garage, the race now imminent. Your race engineer, Amaria, is waiting for you by the car. Her calm demeanor is always a source of comfort.

"How are we feeling?" she asks, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of doubt.

"Nervous," you admit again, this time more to yourself than anyone else. "But ready. I want this win, Amaria. I really do."

Amaria nods, her expression serious but encouraging. "You’ve got this, Y/N. You’re one of the best drivers out there. Trust your instincts, trust your skills. We believe in you."

You take a deep breath, the weight of her words grounding you. "Thanks, Amaria. That means a lot."

She smiles, handing you your helmet. "Now, let’s go win this race."

You climb into the car, the familiar feeling of the seat and the controls a comforting presence. The world outside the cockpit fades away, leaving only you and the machine. You put on your helmet, securing it in place, and perform your final checks.

Amaria’s voice comes through the radio, calm and steady. "All systems are go. Remember, stay focused. You’ve got this."

"Copy that," you respond, gripping the steering wheel. The nervous energy has transformed into a fierce determination. You’re ready.

The lights go out, and the roar of engines fills the air. The formation lap begins, and you navigate the twists and turns, feeling the car respond to your every command. The nerves are still there, but they’re now a part of the thrill, a part of the drive.

You line up on the grid, heart pounding, every muscle tensed in anticipation. This is it.

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

The roar of the engines surrounds you as you race through the circuit, the familiar grip of the steering wheel steady in your hands. Lap 28 is in full swing, and you're driving your heart out for the win. You hear the crackle of the radio in your ear, your race engineer giving you updates, but your focus is ahead. The track is slick from a recent shower, and the competition is fierce.

You see Ocon in the Alpine ahead, and you're pushing hard, determined to overtake into P5. Albon is close by in the Williams, equally determined to overtake your position as well. It's a dance of danger and skill, every movement calculated, every second crucial.

Then, it happens. In an instant, the world tilts on its axis. Ocon’s car clips yours, sending you into a spin. Everything slows down as the car flips and flips and flips, the ground and sky exchanging places repeatedly. Sky. Gravel. Sky. Gravel. Sky. Gravel. The violent motion is sickening, disorienting. You can hear the crunch of metal, the shatter of glass, and the scream of tires.

The barrier looms too quickly, and then you're crashing through it, the fence crumpling under the force. You're thrown into a building, the car smashing against the structure with a bone-rattling impact. The world goes black.

The pit lane erupts in chaos. Over the radio, a distressed voice calls for a red flag. The race comes to an abrupt halt, safety cars deployed immediately.

"Red flag, red flag. All drivers return to the pits. Safety car on track."

In the Mercedes garage, the engineers and mechanics freeze. George’s eyes widen in horror as he pulls into the pit lane, the scene replaying in his mind. Amaria is calling out for Y/N, but there is no response.

In the Ferrari garage, Lewis’s face pales as he listens to the radio, his heart sinking with every passing second. Charles Leclerc feels a cold dread in his chest. He can’t stop replaying the image of your car tumbling, the wreckage of what once was a powerful machine. His thoughts are a whirlwind, concern for you overpowering everything else.

"Who was it?" Lando Norris's voice crackles over the radio, fear palpable in his tone.

"It’s Y/N," someone replies. The pit falls silent, the gravity of the situation settling in.

Verstappen stares at the monitors, the usual competitive fire in his eyes extinguished by worry. His jaw clenches from frustration and helplessness. He knows the risks and accepts them, but it doesn’t make this any easier.

Oscar pulls into the pit, ripping his helmet off. "Is she okay?" he demands, but no one has answers. The tension is unbearable.

As the safety crews work frantically, cutting through the mangled metal to reach you, an eerie silence blankets the paddock. Minutes feel like hours. The world watches and waits, breaths held, hearts aching.

Lewis paces, unable to sit still. “Come on, Y/N. Be okay,” he mutters under his breath, his mind racing through the years of knowing you, racing alongside you. He can't lose a teammate, a friend, like this.

George sits in the car, head bowed, fingers clenched around the steering wheel. He blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. The sight of your crumpled car, the uncertainty of your fate, it's too much to bear.

Back in the Ferrari garage, Charles slumps against the wall, his mind is all over the place. He has enough scars from this circuit already, he can’t add more, he needs you to be okay. He was drifting back to the moments you shared. The camaraderie, the rivalry, the mutual respect. “She’s strong. She’ll pull through,” he whispers to himself, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Oscar and Lando exchange glances, both young, both terrified. It’s a stark reminder of the dangers they face every time they get behind the wheel. Their usual banter is replaced with a solemn silence, each lost in their thoughts, prayers for your safety.

The medical team finally extracts you from the wreckage, carefully placing you on a stretcher. The sight of your limp body, the blood, it’s almost too much to bear. You’re airlifted to the nearest hospital, the severity of your injuries still unknown.

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

The air in the paddock is thick, filled with tension, anger, and worry. Max stands near the Red Bull garage, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the sea of people for a familiar face. His voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the chaos.

"Where is he? Where the fuck is Ocon?" Max's words echo with a mixture of anger and frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri hear the yelling, their own frustration boiling over as they join Max's side. "Yeah, where is he?" Lando demands, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Doesn't he know how to drive? Look at the damage he caused out there, to Y/N."

Oscar nods in agreement, his expression mirroring their shared outrage. "It's fucking ridiculous," he adds, his voice rising with indignation. "He's a danger to everyone on the damn track."

As they push through the crowd, their eyes searching for any sign of Ocon, a commotion erupts from the direction of the Alpine garage. Lewis’s voice rises and echos through the pit lane, a voice of anger and frustration. George shouts joining him, a chorus of fury that pierces the chaos.

Max, Lando, and Oscar run to the garage, the yelling and commotion driving them forward. They reach the Alpine garage just as Lewis and George break free from the grasp of the engineers and mechanics, their eyes locked on Ocon with unbridled fury.

"Let me go! Let me go! I’m going to beat his fucking ass.” Lewis's voice reverberates through the paddock, his muscles straining against the hands that hold him back.

George's shouts match Lewis's, “You bloody fucking idiot.” he angrily says as he tries to grab Ocons’ shirt.

Lewis somehow manages to escape their grasp and lunges towards Ocon. Arm pulled back with a tight fist and powerful swing, he punches Ocon in the face, the force of the blow causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

The scene is chaotic, a whirlwind of shouting and struggling bodies as engineers and officials rush to intervene. Max, Lando, and Oscar push forward, their own anger fueling their desire to confront Ocon.

But before they can reach him, security arrives, their presence a barrier between the drivers and their target. Strong arms grab hold of Max, Lando, and Oscar, pulling them back as they struggle against the restraint.

"Let us go! You fucker! Come here! You’re a fucking piece of shit!" Max's voice is fierce, his eyes burning with intensity.

Lando and Oscar echo his sentiments, their shouts blending into a chorus of defiance. “You bitch, if she dies it’s on you! You hear me! You don’t deserve to be a driver! How could you be so fucking reckless?!” they say as they try to get to Ocon. But their efforts are in vain as security tightens their grip, guiding them away from the Alpine garage.

Ocon is escorted away, the tension in the paddock reaches a boiling point. The drivers are told to return to their garages, the promise of further confrontation hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Lewis, George, Max, Lando, and Oscar exchange frustrated glances as they are escorted back to their garages, their desire and anger to get to Ocon are outweighed only by their shared worry for Y/N.

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

Hours pass in agonizing silence. The race, ultimately canceled. Updates on your condition are scarce, and the paddock is gripped with fear. Every beep of a phone, every whisper, sends a jolt through the waiting crowd.

Finally, news comes through. You’re in surgery, your condition is critical but stable. The relief is palpable, but the worry remains. It’s a waiting game now.

Lewis and George sit side by side in the hospital waiting room, their faces etched with worry. They care for you so much, your smile and energy lighting up any room you walk into. They’ve been through so much together, and the thought of losing you is unbearable. They talk in hushed tones, sharing stories about you, trying to keep the fear at bay.

Max arrives, his usual confident stride replaced with uncertainty. He offers a nod to Lewis and George, joining them in their vigil. There’s a silent understanding between them, a shared grief and hope.

Charles walks in, his face a mask of concern. He sits across from the others, his mind still replaying the crash. He remembers you on the stretcher, lying so still, and his heart aches.

Oscar and Lando arrive together, the youngest of the group, their faces pale and drawn. They sit quietly, their presence a testament to the bond forged on and off the track.

Hours stretch on, the waiting room is filled with an oppressive silence. The doctors come and go, their expressions guarded. Every minute feels like an eternity.

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

Amaria your race engineer enters, her face is grave but kind, understanding the emotional toll this night has taken on everyone.

“Hey,” she begins softly, “I know how much you care about Y/N and how difficult this is, but the nurses informed us that it’s past visiting hours. As much as we want to stay the hospital staff needs to do their work, and you need to rest. Her parents are on a flight here right now, they should be here by morning. The FIA decided we will have a meeting first thing in the morning to update you all on her condition.”

There are murmurs of protest, but they are weak, born more out of exhaustion and helplessness than actual defiance. The drivers know she’s right, but leaving feels like abandoning you.

Lewis stands first, setting the example. “We’ll be there bright and early,” he promises, his voice firm.

The others slowly rise, their reluctance palpable. As they file out, each offers a lingering glance back towards the surgical doors, hoping for the best.

Charles stops by Amaria. “Please, make sure we know the moment there’s any change,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amaria nods. “I will. Try to get some rest. She’s in good hands.”

Charles nods, smiling weakly, “You too Amaria.”

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

The atmosphere is heavy as all the drivers sit in the room waiting for news on your condition. You can see the tiredness and weariness on their face. Even though they were told to get some rest it’s obvious none of them could.

Finally, Toto and Amaria walk in. “She’s out of surgery. She’s stable, but it’s going to be a long recovery.”

The room exhales as one. Relief floods in, but the road ahead is daunting. You’re strong, a fighter, and they all know you’ll pull through. But the scars, both physical and emotional, will take time to heal.

Lewis reaches out, squeezing George’s shoulder. “Thank you, Lord. She’s okay,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.

Max nods, his eyes brightening a little. “Yeah, she is.”

Charles leans back into his seat, his eyes closed, tears escaping as he says, “She's okay, she's really okay. She's alive.”

Oscar and Lando exchange a watery glance, a silent exchange of relief passing between them.

You're okay.

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟸

∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿

#ꨄ࿎victoria’s writings!࿎ꨄ #formula 1 x reader #vicki ♛ recs ⇢✍︎♥︎#formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 grid #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 one shot

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httpswritings · 11 months ago

Text

if you were my little girl: the series part 5

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

a/n: i was a little bit disgusted writing some parts of this, that's why it has taken more than usually to post it. if you feel the same way when you read it, i guess i've captured well the feeling with words. part 6 will be similar to this one.

Flour dusted your cheeks as you nervously kneaded dough with Alexia. Outside, the rumble of the vacuum cleaner announced your parents' frantic cleaning for the family reunion. Alexia, ever perceptive, noticed the tightness in your smile.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice a warm reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere."

Relief washed over you as Alexia squeezed your shoulder, a silent show of support. But then, a wave of shame crashed down. You loved having Alexia by your side, but you dreaded her witnessing the potential chaos of your family reunion. You squeezed the cookie dough in your hand a little too hard, wishing you could bake away the impending awkwardness.

An hour ticked by, the house humming with the final flourishes before the guests arrived. Relief battled with a gnawing anxiety in your gut. Family members began to trickle in, greeted warmly by your mother, who then ushered them towards Alexia. As introductions were made, Alexia couldn't help but marvel at the warmth radiating from this seemingly happy family. But a dissonant note jarred the picture. Her gaze fell on the clinking beer bottles your uncle brought, a familiar dread sparking in your eyes. Alexia's heart clenched. There you were, barely a shadow against the backdrop of the bustling room, yet the fear etched on your young face spoke volumes. A fierce protectiveness ignited within her, pushing aside the initial wonder. This loving facade, this was the "devil" you'd spoken of?

The spotlight naturally fell on Alexia during the family reunion. A constant stream of questions flowed her way, each inquiry a beat in the symphony of getting-to-know-you. Even your parents joined the chorus, their voices brimming with pride as they declared to anyone within earshot how lucky they were to have an small Alexia as their daughter.

But the facade cracked when one of your uncles, amidst the laughter, uttered a comment about women's football.

"She's good," he chuckled, "but be careful she doesn't turn..." his voice trailed off, replaced by a knowing wink, "...lesbian, you know?"

A ripple of laughter spread, leaving you and Alexia as islands of silence. The term "lesbian" was a nebulous thing, one you'd heard hurled as an insult at girls who excelled at sports, but you know ot meant a woman that loved women. You didn't understand why it was bad, just that the tone felt wrong.

Across from you, Alexia stiffened. Her jaw clenched, and a flicker of anger ignited in her eyes. Yet, she swallowed the retort, the fierce protectiveness she felt for you overriding her own indignation. This wasn't about her. In the stifling atmosphere, a silent vow solidified. She was there to shield you, even if it meant enduring veiled barbs and swallowing her own voice.

It was nearly 1PM and the barbecue started.

Alexia understood right away what you meant with the drawing.

She saw how everyone besides your grandmother was drunk, very drunk.

There was a heavy beer odor in the atmosphere, that made Alexia feel nauseous, and she remembered how upset you got when you had smelled that odor in her some weeks ago.

Everything made sense.

The clock ticked relentlessly towards 1 pm, the hands seeming to etch closer to the moment the festivities would truly begin. A plume of smoke rose from the barbecue pit, carrying with it the unmistakable, acrid scent of burning charcoal and sizzling meat. Alexia inhaled sharply, the pungent air triggering a memory. It was the same heavy beer stench that had twisted your face in disgust when you caught a whiff of it on her. A sudden understanding dawned on her. You hadn't been exaggerating in your frantic drawing. Glancing around at the scene before her, confirmation washed over her like a cold wave. Bodies swayed precariously, laughter devolved into slurred shouts, and empty beer bottles littered the once pristine picnic tables. It was clear – everyone, with the possible exception of your stoic grandmother perched primly on the edge of the scene, was demonstrably, uncomfortably drunk. The nausea that had been a mere flicker before now blossomed in her stomach, as thick and unwelcome as the oppressive atmosphere surrounding her. Everything about this picture, from the reeking air to the sloppy revelry, suddenly made even more sense, terrible sense.

Alexia watched you across the chaotic scene. Here you were, amidst the laughter and smoky haze, surprisingly relaxed. You even seemed genuinely amused, sharing jokes with your family. Could she blame you? This was your normal, the background noise you'd grown accustomed to, the beer-soaked gatherings, the boisterous laughter that teetered on the edge of aggression. Maybe you hadn't even noticed the way everyone seemed a little off-balance, their voices a touch too loud, their movements a hair too jerky. Perhaps you'd simply normalized it all, the way one gets used to the hum of a refrigerator after a while.

The thought made her stomach clench. Then, as if on cue, a beer bottle clattered to the ground, shattering with a jarring crack. You flinched, a flicker of alarm crossing your face before it was quickly masked by a strained smile. Alexia's observation sharpened. Your pupils were dilated, and your hand, reaching for a bread roll, trembled slightly.

A primal urge for safety surged through you. The boisterous laughter that had seemed amusing moments ago now felt like a cacophony, threatening to drown you out. Instinctively, you gravitated towards Alexia, seeking refuge by her side. You'd always admired her hands, strong and capable – the kind that left colorful imprints on both your canvases and your skin during your painting sessions. Back then, they'd been instruments of creativity, but now, they transformed into something more – a potential shield against the unsettling atmosphere. The unspoken promise of protection emanating from those hands offered a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

The moment of amusement with Alexia evaporated like spilled beer on the picnic table as you got near the men of your family to get some water. Your uncle, emboldened by a few too many drinks, lurched back into his usual pattern of inappropriate comments. His voice, thick with slurred words, boomed across the gathering. "If I were you, I'd keep an eye on your little girl. She seems very content with Alexia." A forced laugh escaped his lips, but it held a nasty edge. Shame burned in your cheeks.

Relief washed over you as you realized Alexia hadn't caught the undercurrent of the conversation happening a few feet away from her. Your father, flanked by your two uncles, was fielding questions cast in slurred tones.

"Why is she here, anyway?" your eldest uncle rumbled, his voice thick with suspicion.

"Alexia's been a great help with the girl's journey on football. She's a good woman."

The youngest uncle leaned in conspiratorially, his breath reeking of stale beer. "Yeah, well, good woman or not, is she one of them?" He punctuated his question with a jerk of his thumb, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

"One of them?"

"A dyke, do you know if she's one of them?

A knot of anger tightened in your stomach. You still loved your family, even after everything they had done to you, but suddenly, the thought of being related to them, felt painful. You longed for the escape of your room, a place where the world couldn't twist your innocent friendship into something ugly. You stole a glance at Alexia, catching the way she laughed with your grandmother, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

This was uncharted territory. Usually, Alexia stood as your shield, but now, a fierce protectiveness surged through you, a need to defend the one who'd always been your rock. The conversation went over your head. Dyke. A word associated with something you didn't quite grasp, yet somehow felt ugly. Why were they calling Alexia that? You'd never heard her mention a boyfriend, but girlfriends were a blank slate too. But, what if she liked girls? Why was that a problem?

As you kept listening to them talk, your innocence felt bruised.

"She's hot. It'd be a waste if she's really a lesbian.

"God only knows if I have the chance."

A tear escaped, then another, and you bolted for the safety of your room.

Alexia, her heart echoing your pain, sprung up and followed. "Hey, little one," she called out, her voice laced with concern. "What happened?" Before you could answer, the others arrived, their presence only amplifying your tears. What was once your haven now felt tainted, the air thick with their presence. Your drawings, your toys, even your bed seemed to echo the intrusion.

Your mom reached out, but you burrowed deeper into Alexia's embrace, her familiar scent of fruit offering a sliver of comfort. "Her stomach hurts," Alexia lied gently, a shield against the storm brewing around you.

A semblance of normalcy returned, but you were a shadow by Alexia's side. When Alexia asked what had made you cry, her worried eyes met yours. A truth dawned on you - the depth of your love for her. No longer an idol, she was your fierce protector, an angel in this sudden hell, a sister.

"Just... uncomfortable," you mumbled, unable to voice the unspoken hurt. Alexia saw through it, but held her tongue. This burden was hers, a consequence of leaving you unguarded. Maybe a brief escape was possible.

"Can I take her to the park?" she asked your parents, hoping for a distraction. Your father, still wary of Alexia under his uncles' scrutiny, hesitated.

"Let them go," your grandmother unexpectedly intervened. "The child looks bored of only being surrounded by adults."

To your surprise, the park became a reality. It was your first outing with Alexia, just the two of you. She challenged you to a race, a playful glint in her eyes. Despite her victory, it was her joyous laughter that soothed you, a melody of safety.

The park itself welcomed you with open arms. You made a beeline for the slide, a picture of carefree happiness. Watching you, tears welled in Alexia's eyes.

You were feeling very happy when a gaggle of children, trailed by their parents, swarmed Alexia. Requests for selfies and football games flew through the air.

Your stomach, previously a dull ache, lurched into a full-blown protest. It wasn't just a tummy ache anymore; it was a physical manifestation of your possessiveness. You didn't want to share Alexia with other children, let alone during this hell of a day.

You were her “little one”.

It was the same feeling other kids got when they wouldn't share their toys, their parents, or their siblings. Only, for you, Alexia wasn't just anyone. She was the closest thing you had to family, along with Alba.

The park's joy felt stolen as you stalked out, hand in hand with Alexia. Barcelona's streets stretched before you, but there was no peace to be found, not with Alexia surrounded by others. Alexia, ever perceptive, caught your downturned lips. A secret smile played on her lips. "Hey," she whispered, leaning down, "you know you're still my favorite little girl, right?"

You hugged her and she picked you up.

"I know you're not going to like this but we should return to your house."

You whined in her arms and she really wished she could've bring you home with her, invite Alba and had a peaceful night.

You fell asleep on her arms and she held you tightly.

"Wake up, little one. I need you to be awake until the reunion's over so I can stay."

The boisterous reunion noises held a sinister edge. A sudden crash shattered the fragile peace, sending a jolt through you as you entered the house. Before you could even whimper, Alexia materialized beside you, her eyes wide with worry.

The air crackled with tension, fueled by the adults' increasing intoxication. Subtle cues – the way your parents forgot about your daily bath, the strained silences – painted a picture of neglect that gnawed at Alexia. She retreated to your room, a sanctuary amidst the chaos, creating a world of happy dolls to distract you from the turmoil outside.

If she couldn't make the world a better place, she would create your own one.

As the clock ticked closer to 1 am, the party raged on. Your grandmother, her face etched with concern, offered Alexia a chance to stay the night. Your parents were too drunk to even care.

The familiar comfort of Alexia sleeping beside you, like a sleepover with a best friend, offered a flicker of normalcy. Yet, sleep remained a distant dream. The sounds of arguments vibrated through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's unsettling events.

You liked having Alexia in your room, like you were with your other friends in sleepovers.

She kissed your front as a goodnight and held your hand from her bed.

"Sleep well, my princess."

Sleep eluded you both. The boisterous voices from the living room seemed to vibrate through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's events. A sudden, jarring crash shattered the tense silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a panicked echo of the sound. Alexia, alert in an instant, was beside you before you could even cry out.

Her arms wrapped around you, a fierce embrace that spoke volumes more than any words could. You clung to her, your body trembling with a fear she'd never witnessed in anyone else. A single, fierce whisper escaped her lips, "I've got you. I've got you."

The chaos that had been simmering all day finally erupted. Even Alexia, who thrived on boisterous family gatherings, couldn't hide the fear creeping into her eyes. Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, searching for a lifeline - the police, her family, anyone.

But before she could dial, the door creaked open revealing your grandmother, her face etched with worry. "Take her with you, Alexia," she pleaded, voice trembling. "Please, take her."

Confusion clouded your mind, but a surge of bravery prompted you to peek out from behind Alexia. The sight that greeted you was a blur of motion - your uncles locked in a furious struggle, their playful banter replaced by guttural grunts. When they noticed you, they attempted a smile, the facade crumbling as quickly as it formed.

Alexia scooped you close, shielding you from the escalating chaos. Your grandmother, a pillar of strength amidst the storm, began packing a bag with your clothes. Alexia, fear momentarily forgotten, focused solely on getting you out of that hostile environment.

"You're coming with me," she whispered fiercely. "You're safe with me."

A flicker of doubt crossed your face as you looked at your grandmother. Alexia understood. She offered your grandmother a chance to escape with them, but the refusal was swift.

"My place is here," she said, voice heavy with resignation. "They're my sons. But she," she gestured towards you, "she doesn't deserve this. I want her to have a different life, a better life."

With trembling hands, Alexia scrawled her phone number on your grandmother's wrist. "This is mine," she instructed, voice urgent. "Please, don't let anyone else see it. I don't know what's coming next, but I can't bear the thought of her losing contact with you."

A silent understanding passed between them. Your grandmother squeezed Alexia's hand, then leaned down to kiss your forehead. Her voice held a lifetime of unspoken advice, "Remember what I always tell you. Education is your key. It's your power. Never depend on anyone, especially a man," just like she depended on her sons, she wanted something different for you.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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hazbn-oneshots · 1 year ago

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Dancing Headcanons

Enjoy!!

Charlie:

Charlie loves to dance, that’s a given. With as strong as a passion that she has for singing, well it’s not really surprising when the two go together like milk and cookies.

Both a fan of freestyle dancing as well as more classical styles, she’ll grab your hand and pull you into a full Ballroom-Style Waltz before moving onto a lively two-step.

Speaking of the waltz, it’s one of her favorite dance styles. It makes her yearn for a day where she could throw a big party and just parade around the room, showing off just what kind of power couple is taking on Hell.

She mainly just likes to show you off, she’s very proud to call you her partner and she’d scream it from the rooftops if she could.Or even twirl you ‘round and ‘round an ornately decorated ballroom.

Until then she’ll settle for twirling you around in the dim light of your bedroom, singing quietly to the old record playing.

Vaggie:

Vaggie doesn’t know how to dance and it takes a lot of convincing and just a little bit of bribing for her to even entertain the idea of letting you show her some moves.

She’s relatively quick on the uptake, however, her background as a fighter serving her well to stay quick on her feet. She definitely takes to the livelier dances, absolutely loves to salsa and as soon as she hears the music she’s immediately tying her hair up.

Vaggie will never admit it to you but she looks forward to these moments with you, showing her whichever new dance you had practicing just to show her.

Lead her through a sultry tango and you’ll have her swooning in no time, although in the classic Vaggie fashion you’ve come to love. With a face brighter than the sun, if you even dare to try going for a kiss she’ll…. Well she may just let you have one ;)

Alastor:

Few may know but in the living world, Alastor lived quite a thriving social life and with that comes a little bit of knowledge when it comes to the dancefloor, be it old fashioned as it may.

He’ll be genuinely delighted if you’ll ask him to dance with you, probably one of the few times you see his forced grin slip into a more relaxed smile.

Alastor forces everyone to vacate the main floor of the hotel, after all, he would have nothing in the way of a perfect evening with his darling.

An evening complete with a custom outfit he’d had ordered for you from his tailor-only the best- and a shiny old phonograph that broadcast music that he was more familiar with himself.

And with you on that floor, he almost feels like his old self. It’s like the hotel fades away only to be replaced with the backdrop of the old club he’d frequent when he was still human. He’ll fox trot ‘till the morning comes, loves to Charleston, his smile never wavering one bit.

He only begins to slow when he notices you begin to slow, tripping on your feet with a newfound exhaustion. He’ll glide you to a stop, one hand on your lower back and the other holding one of your own.

"We’ll break for now dearest, wouldn’t want to take you out of the race”

You better take a breath and drink of water though because before you know it you’re swept away again

Husk:

He’s more of a watcher, truth be told. With his big ol feet and wings, he knows he’ll end up getting in the way so he prefers to keep his post behind the bar. It doesn’t bother him, not dancing anyway. These stupid little hang outs that Charlie organizes at the hotel bar piss him off beyond belief however.

Things typically go one of two ways. Either every resident of this forsaken hotel will completely disregard the invitation; Which never fails to upset the poor princess and leave her and Vaggie sulking on a couch.

Or, on rare nights such as tonight, a few residents will show up and sometimes it’ll fizzle out not long after everyone gathers.

Not tonight though.

You see, during your stay at the hotel you and Angel had come to become quite close and as such had decided to take it upon yourselves to liven everyone up a little. You pick the music though, Angel’s taste wasn’t awful but you feared sending Sir Pentious into a fit with the content.

You only try to ask Husk to dance once and his wordless response was but a chuckle.

"I don’t dance kid but, maybe next time” and if you catch the hint of fondness in his eye as he turns to put a glass away, you sure don’t mention it.

Angel Dust:

Sign him the fuck up, he doesn’t care what they put on, when it is, he just wants to grab his love bug and give them a spin.

He’s the type to remember certain reactions you’ll have to specific songs, making sure to add them to a special playlist reserved for you.

He even named it after you, adding little hearts and kissy faces next to your name.

Angel likes to break it put whenever you’re feeling down, even if you’re not fully up to a dance he’ll wrap you up in a gentle sway anyway.

Due to the height difference he’ll let you stand on his feet while he sways back and forth. Complete with little peck kisses on the head and face as well.

It’s not long before you’ve got your face buried in his chest, wondering what you did to deserve someone like him.

He’s gonna twerk on you at some point those, it’s inevitable. If the two of you are out on the town for a night, you can bet he’ll be dragging you to the liveliest club possible, eager to dance up on his honey

Requests are open!!

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #vaggie headcanons #angel dust headcanons #angel dust x reader #alastor headcanons #husk headcanons

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nofingjustaninchident · 7 months ago

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ᯓ★ strawberries & cigarettes

summary percy and y/n went out on a date with strawberries

warnings fluff, i can’t write anymore

word count 0.3k

now listening to strawberries & cigarettes by troye sivan

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange as percy jackson stood on the deck of the argo II. the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship created a soothing rhythm, a perfect backdrop for the evening he had planned.

“hey, you!” percy called out, spotting his girlfriend, y/n, as she approached. the boy smiled widely at her; just the sight of his favorite person made him feel better.

“are we really doing this?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“absolutely. just trust me,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. he had set up a makeshift blanket fort on the deck, draping the fabric he’d found in the ship’s supply room. it wasn’t glamorous, but it was cozy, and the twinkling fairy lights strung around it gave it a magical touch.

as they settled inside, the boy pulled out a basket filled with snacks: strawberries, chocolate, and her favorite cookies. they nestled close together, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the cool evening air.

“this is perfect,” y/n said, biting into a strawberry. “you know, you’re not as serious as you pretend to be.”

“only with you,” percy teased, nudging her playfully. “i have a reputation to uphold.”

she laughed, her voice a melody he never tired of hearing. “a reputation as the most charming, powerful and handsome demigod?”

the boy said nothing, only looking at his gorgeous girlfriend, the golden glow of the fairy lights highlighting her features. she was just insanely beautiful. it didn’t matter if she was bald, had long hair, short hair, if she was fat, skinny. she was perfect in every sense of the way.

the son of poseidon leaned forward, tasting the sweet taste of the strawberry from her lips; she smiled in the kiss before deepening it. after a few seconds, they pulled away, breathless.

“what was that for?” she asked. he just chuckled and shrugged.

“just because.”

#ᯓ★ all my love #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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coquettebeautiful · 7 months ago

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seoulzie · 11 months ago

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neighbour antics

WHEREIN: a playful exchange of notes with the boy next door turns into a connection

彡 pairing: hyuka x gn!reader 彡 genre: fluff 彡 warnings: none :)

༘˚🌻⋆ read the whole collection here!

moving into the neighborhood at the beginning of summer felt like a fresh start. the air was fragrant with blooming flowers, and the sun bathed everything in a warm glow. your new house had a cozy, inviting feel, with a large window in your room overlooking the street. as you unpacked your belongings, you heard the sound of laughter from outside. curious, you peeked out the window and saw a boy about your age playing basketball in the driveway next door. his smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but watch him for a while. suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. you quickly ducked out of sight, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

the next day, as you were settling into your new home, you heard a knock on the door. opening it, you were greeted by the boy from next door, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies. "hi, i'm huening kai. my family and i live next door. we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood," he said with a warm smile.

you introduced yourself and accepted the cookies, feeling a flutter in your chest at his kindness. over the next few days, you noticed kai often playing outside or helping his parents with chores. you exchanged shy waves and smiles, but neither of you made a move to talk further. one lazy afternoon, as you were reading by your window, you noticed kai's window was directly opposite yours. an idea sparked in your mind, and you grabbed a whiteboard and marker. writing a quick message, you held it up to your window: "hi, neighbor!"

kai looked up from his desk and broke into a grin. he rummaged around his room before holding up his own whiteboard: "hi there! what's up?" and so it began – the start of your unique window messages. every morning, you would wake up to see a new message from kai, and you would reply with your own. it became a cherished routine, one that made you look forward to each day.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

as weeks turned into months, your conversations grew longer and more personal. you shared stories, secrets, and dreams through your window. kai's sweet and thoughtful nature shone through in every message, and you found yourself drawn to him more and more. one evening, as the sun set, you heard a soft tapping on your window. you looked up to see kai holding up a sign: "want to go for a walk?"

your heart skipped a beat as you grabbed your whiteboard and wrote back, "yes!" minutes later, you found yourself outside, walking side by side with kai under the starry night sky. the air was cool and crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. the stars twinkled above, creating a magical backdrop for your stroll.

"i really enjoy our little notes," kai said, his voice soft. "but i think i like spending time with you even more."

you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "me too, kai."

as you walked, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, talking about everything and nothing. you shared your favorite memories from childhood, your dreams for the future, and the little things that made you happy. kai listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours.

after a while, you reached a small park and decided to sit on a bench under a large oak tree. the park was quiet, with only the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. you leaned back, taking in the serene surroundings, and glanced at kai.

"isn't this technically a date?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

kai's eyes widened in surprise, and a blush spread across his cheeks. "i... i guess it is," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "i didn't really think about it that way, but... yeah, it does feel like one."

you giggled, finding his flustered reaction adorable. "well, if it is a date, it's a pretty good one," you said, giving him a reassuring smile.

kai's eyes softened, and he relaxed a little. "i'm glad you think so," he replied, his voice warm. "i wanted to spend time with you, just the two of us."

you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. kai's presence was calming, and you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. as the night grew colder, kai noticed you shivering slightly and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

"here, this should help," he said, his voice full of concern.

"thanks, kai," you replied, pulling the jacket tighter around you. the gesture warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

as you walked back home, you felt a sense of happiness and anticipation. this night had brought you closer to kai, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held for the two of you. kai's gestures of kindness were endless – he always made sure you were comfortable, always knew how to make you smile.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

life with kai was simple yet filled with heartfelt moments. as you watched the raindrops race down your window, you saw kai holding up a sign: "want to play in the rain?" you laughed and nodded, grabbing your raincoat and boots. soon, you were both outside, the rain soaking you almost immediately.

kai took your hand and pulled you towards the backyard. the rain fell steadily, creating little rivers along the sidewalks and puddles in the grass. the sound of the raindrops hitting the leaves and the ground was like a soothing melody, and you couldn't help but smile at the refreshing feeling of the rain on your skin.

kai's laughter was infectious as he splashed through the puddles, his boyish grin lighting up his face. "come on!" he shouted, kicking up water as he ran ahead. you chased after him, giggling as you both darted through the yard, the cool rain invigorating and freeing.

at one point, you slipped on the wet grass, and kai was there in an instant, helping you up with a concerned look in his eyes. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

you laughed, brushing off the mud from your clothes. "i'm fine, kai. this is so much fun!"

relieved, he grinned and pulled you into a spontaneous dance, spinning you around as the rain continued to fall. the world around you seemed to blur, the only thing in focus was kai's joyful face and the warmth of his hand in yours.

as you twirled together, you realized how magical this moment was. the rain, the laughter, and the simple act of playing together made everything else fade away. it was just you and kai, sharing a perfect moment in the rain.

after a while, you both started to feel the chill, and kai suggested, "how about we go inside and dry off? i'll make us some hot chocolate."

you nodded, and hand in hand, you both made your way back to the house, dripping wet but filled with happiness.

another time, you were studying for an important exam and feeling incredibly stressed. your notes were scattered around you, and your head was pounding from hours of trying to cram information. just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you heard a knock on your door.

opening it, you found kai standing there with a container in his hands. "hey," he said with a warm smile, holding up the container. "we had some leftovers, and i know how much you like my mom’s baking, so i thought you might need a break."

your heart melted at his thoughtfulness. "thank you, kai. you have no idea how much i needed this."

he handed you the container, and the familiar aroma of your favorite pastry filled the room. "i figured you'd be tired of studying, so i hope this helps."

you sat down together, and as you ate, the delicious food and kai's company eased your stress. "this is amazing," you said, savoring each bite. "you always know just how to make things better."

kai's eyes twinkled with affection. "i'm glad. just remember to take breaks, okay? you've got this!"

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

one evening, as the winter chill seeped into the air, you and kai found yourselves once again cuddled up on the couch, watching another movie. the snow outside was falling in thick, fluffy flakes, creating a serene scene beyond the window. the fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting a cozy glow around the room.

as the movie reached its emotional climax, you noticed kai fidgeting slightly beside you. his usual calm demeanor seemed a bit off, and you couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind. when the credits began to roll, he turned to you, his eyes full of a mix of determination and nervousness.

"hey," he began softly, his voice a bit shaky. "there's something i need to tell you."

you looked at him, concern and curiosity in your eyes. "what is it, kai?"

he took a deep breath, clearly gathering his courage. "we've been spending a lot of time together, and i... i really enjoy it. more than anything, really."

you smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "i do too, kai."

he nodded, his expression serious. "and, well, i can't stop thinking about you. you're always on my mind, and i realize that... i want us to be more than just friends."

your heart began to race as you understood where he was going with this. "kai..."

he held up a hand, stopping you gently. "wait, let me finish. i... i really like you, and i want to be with you. so, um..." he paused, his cheeks flushing with a deep blush as he stumbled over his words. "can i be your girlfriend? wait, no! i mean, can i be your boyfriend? i mean... will you be my girlfriend?"

you couldn't help but laugh at his adorable mix-up, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. his earnestness and vulnerability were incredibly endearing.

"kai," you said, reaching out to take his hand. "of course, i'll be your girlfriend."

relief and joy flooded his face, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "really?"

"really," you confirmed, squeezing his hand gently. "i like you too, kai. i've been hoping you felt the same way."

his eyes lit up with pure happiness, and he moved closer to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "i'm so glad," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away if you wanted to. but you didn't. you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss. it was sweet and innocent, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for so long.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were smiling, your foreheads resting against each other. "i promise i'll do my best to make you happy," kai said softly.

"i know you will," you said, your heart overflowing with affection. "you already do."

as you settled back into the warmth of the couch, kai wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. you snuggled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. the world outside continued to be a wintry wonderland, but inside, everything felt perfect. with kai by your side and the promise of a beautiful relationship ahead, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @vicurious28

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