#especially things which would be terrifying to others

[tinysunshine]

✧˖° 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 (𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒) °˖✧

‎ [ 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: age difference, ddlg elements (no daddy kink), dumbification, reader is very ditzy, negan is protective, dom/sub dynamic, fingering, creampie, slightly rough sex, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation

warnings and triggers: dumb! reader, name-calling, mentions of violence and death, negan is extremely manipulative, bullying, reader is a little insecure, dubcon

word count: 7k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe. slightly dead dove.

It’s beautiful, and Negan’s pretty sure this blind obedience and worship you have for him is the best kind of love he’s ever received. He’d do anything to keep you this docile. This trusting.  This dumb, about who he is and what he does. You think he’s the nicest guy in the world, and you’re a sweet little thing. Why would he ever want to change that perception?

It’s funny, because when he was growing up, Negan never wanted to play with dolls. 

He was a regular kid. A regular boy, who liked toy cars and dinosaurs, dug in the dirt and killed spiders and dared his friends to eat ants. Threw rocks at squirrels and played pirates and cowboys, stayed outside until the streetlights turned off. Average. Grew up to be above average, sure, but the fundamental parts of what make him a man have been inside of him since day one. 

He’s mean. He’s pretty damn selfish, and he’d be the first to admit that. He’s rough, he’s aggressive, and sometimes he gets so mad he swears he can feel his dick chub up in his pants - especially when he hears the sound of another grown man begging, crying, or pleading. It’s not a gay thing, of course - more like a fucked up thing, but he knows he’s not alone in it. 

He’s around men all day. Sees them hurt each other, mostly at his orders - but it’s all in good fun. At least for him. Men like that shit. They love to hurt, even if they say they don’t, and the little secret that most women don’t understand is that they like to be the one who’s hurt sometimes. Most of them won’t admit it, but Negan will. 

It feels good, to get smacked in the face or to spit a tooth out after a gnarly punch to the cheek (but Negan’s got a dentist under this thumb, so he can enjoy that feeling, he’s lucky, he knows). When his vision gets blurry and his nose bleeds, ribs aching after a good fight - phew. Negan loves that shit. Knows every other man does too. 

That excitement, the frustration, all of it spreading through his body like a wildfire until he feels his hand curl into a fist to get his retribution. It’s almost as good as an orgasm, because it makes him feel alive. What’s more human than pain?

Negan Smith is a man, through and through. Always has been, always will be. 

Which makes it so funny, such a crazy twist of fate, that his favorite toy is now you. 

His perfect, little doll.

Crazy how life works out, huh?

────

When Negan found you, you were all alone. 

Well, you thought you were alone. 

You were staying at a run-down farm house that Negan’s men found because they were looking for a group of people that tried to fuck him over. A group of scared fucking pathetic excuses for men, which disgusted Negan to no end. He wants to terrify people, sure - gets a thrill, and an erection out of it. But seeing people sweat before he’s even opened his mouth is just infuriating. 

What if he was a nice guy? They’d never know. Pretty fucked up, Negan thinks, judging someone based on their appearance. 

The group started firing at his men before they even got out of their truck, and then they had to be chased, and when Negan’s men lost them he had to get involved. A few days came and went before they were finally found, and just in perfect time too - because those men must’ve seen that you were staying alone at the house and were planning to fuck you over. 

Fuck you too. Negan heard them planning it by some trees about a half a mile away from the house, before he beat in their brains with his bat. 

Now, Negan knows he’s a monster. But he’d never gang up on a woman with his men. It’s tasteless. Disgusting. Tacky, deplorable. Weak. 

Because him? Well, Negan came on to you all on his own.

His first thought when he found you, completely clueless about the fate that awaited you, on the front porch of a farm house that had surely seen better days, was that you were cute.   

Too cute to be alive in this world, living on your own. Negan has a lot of wives, yeah, but they all looked like shit when he found them. He just has an eye for that sort of thing - finding beauty in the things nobody else can see. 

He saw it in all those women he forced to be his bride - beauty in their features all dirtied up from time on the road that he knew would be pretty again after a shower and some lip gloss. Beauty, in the blood under the nails of his men, the fragility of human life and the almost unbreakable spirit. Beauty, in all the luxuries he used to take for granted before walkers became a thing and changed everything. 

Negan knows beauty when he sees it, and when he saw you, he realized he'd laid his eyes on the most beautiful thing still left in this world. 

When you saw him, you didn’t panic. When you saw his men, you didn’t even frown. Instead, on that little porch, you arched an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. You were sitting down on the ground, a pair of tiny, denim shorts on and scuffed up boots. Negan noticed that you had a little flower tucked behind your ear, and he wondered if you were insanely brave or just stupid. 

Either way, he was intrigued. 

“You alone?” He asked a question that would have alarm bells going on in just about anyone else’s head. But not yours. No, you took it a step further than Negan could’ve anticipated. You stood up, walked to him, and gave him a hug.

Negan thought it was a trap. He really did. Was sure that this was going to be the way he finally died, and goddamnit - maybe he deserved it. Clever fucking asshole, whoever designed this honeypot of a beautiful girl all alone, looking like she was waiting to be rescued. 

But it wasn’t a trap. 

You were actually happy to see him and his men. You pulled away from the hug and let out a sigh of relief, blowing a piece of hair out of your face with a cute expression. You smiled, and Negan realized how much he missed the look of innocence. He didn't realize how long it'd been since he'd last seen it. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you said, taking the flower out from behind your ear. You handed it to him. “It was so scary being all alone.”

────

You’re beautiful, but that’s the least interesting thing about you. Don’t get Negan wrong though - you are beautiful. Fucking perfect, like a little doll, with soft skin and perky tits and a sweet smile whenever you get your way. 

Which makes you perfect for Negan, because you’re also about as brainless as a doll, pretty head all empty, and whatever he tells you to do, whatever he thinks, whatever he wants - you agree. That simple, that smooth. Even Negan was impressed when he realized just how ditzy you were. 

He’s not trying to be insulting either. People have different strengths, and using your brain is not one of yours. You’re so fucking hot though, that it doesn’t really matter what you say or do. Your passivity, your cuteness, the big eyed look you give him whenever you’re confused about something he says (which is frequently) - Negan could cum in his pants just thinking about it. 

You’re special to him. 

The minute he brought you home, he hated the guts of every single one of his wives. Although, maybe hate is too strong of a word. Because Negan doesn't even hate them, truthfully, because he doesn't even think of them. Once he had you in his presence, you took up so much of his time that he was shocked (and pleased) that someone didn’t try to overthrow his position as leader in his absence. 

He knew from the minute he had you in his truck, leaving that farm house, that you’d end up meaning a lot to him. The day he found you, he had his men walk around the little house you were staying in, looking for any valuables. There were some, and even though Negan found you charming, he still didn’t know you. Didn’t know if that happy to not be alone thing was an act or not. 

He drilled you, asked you questions and tried to scare you a little bit, but it was impossible to frighten you - which frightened him. He’ll admit, you spooked him with your naivety back then. It was creepy as shit.

You just kept giggling, kept standing too close to him, and when Negan finally made his men look through the house, you took a seat on the old couch in the living room. “So nice of them to help me with my stuff. I’ve been alone here since my brother never came back after he went looking for something for us to eat. I’m really lonely. Really hungry too.” It was obvious to Negan at that moment, just how clueless you really were - but it was also really fucking cute. 

He’d spent so much time fighting, arguing, forcing - and finally having someone give in without resistance was nice. That day, he found himself sitting back on the couch in front of you, and then you made the move to get up and sit next to him. Clueless. Dangerous, your innocence.

But deep down, in a thought Negan didn’t even want to admit to himself - 

It was nice to be around someone who wasn’t scared of him. Someone he didn’t have to force.

“We only just met, kid. Personal space,” he remembers saying, but you just laughed. Sweet and hungry, you said. Negan couldn’t wait to bring you home and feed you. He was already wondering where you would fit in, hating himself for being worried about how the other women would treat you if he threw you in with his wives. Maybe you could teach them a thing or two, about being nice. But then again. 

His wives are bitches. Although Negan can’t say he doesn’t understand why. 

“You play baseball?” You asked, looking towards his bat that was resting beside his foot while he held onto it. He was in a state of disbelief. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so, so - 

“No, honey, I don’t. You pullin’ my leg or something? Or are you really just that,” stupid, he wanted to say. But he didn’t. Because your bottom lip jutted out like you were about to cry, then your eyes filled with tears, and Negan loves to hurt people to see how far he can take it until they try to hurt him back - but with you, he knew you wouldn’t fight back. 

Took a lot of the fun out of it, so he quickly changed the subject. It’s only fun to make a beautiful woman cry when it serves a purpose, and Negan didn’t see any purpose in hurting someone as…you know what? He’s got nothing nice to say, he won’t say anything at all.

“How’s this,” he said instead, placing a hand on your knee. Your skin was warm under his palm, soft where his rough fingers touched you. “You come back with us, and you can eat whatever you want. As much as you want. You in?” 

Truth be told, Negan planned on bringing you back with him, regardless of if you wanted to come, at this point. Because when he touched your knee, you put your hand on top of his, and that was all it fucking took to disarm him. 

Little bunny, not scared of the big bad wolf. Now that’s a fairy tale Negan’s never heard of -

He’s always liked to write his own rules, anyway. 

────

Negan calls you his bunny, and you like it, but you think you like being called doll better. 

He tells you all the time that you look like a doll. No matter what time of day, no matter what you look like, he’ll never stop giving you that compliment. It always makes your face heat up, and sometimes it even turns you on. 

What can you say? You’re a woman, and being by Negan’s side makes you feel more feminine than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

He treats you like you’re breakable. Gives your forehead kisses, brings you food, takes care of all your needs. The truth is, you’ve always been treated like you’re breakable, but nobody ever acted like they enjoyed having to take care of you. Negan says he’s happy that you need him so much, and you like that. 

You like being the kind of woman who gets protected. The kind of woman who gets doted on and adored. Ever since you met Negan, your nails have been clean and your knees have been without a bandage, your tummy has been full - you didn’t think you’d ever feel clean and pretty again, until he swept you off your feet like you always dreamed would happen to you.

Negan has a lot of pet names for you. Bunny, doll - those are just a few. Sometimes you wonder if he even knows your real name, because he never says it. Baby, sweetheart, cutie. Darling. Everytime he opens his mouth to say something in regards to you, something sweet is coming out of it. 

You’ve only been with him a few months, but you love him so much you can’t stand it. You want to be around him all the time, but it’s just not possible, he says.

You don’t know what Negan does when he leaves his, yours, the room you both share, because you spend most of your time in there. Sometimes you go out, with him, or with one of his men that you met that day at the farmhouse, but if Negan’s not taking you out, you don’t really want to go anywhere. 

You’re happy to stay in the room. There’s books, although you don’t really read…but there’s plenty of things to do to keep yourself busy. Most of the time, you just sleep. Sometimes it’s a little boring, waiting for Negan, but you’re eternally grateful for being able to nap again. Life on the road was scary, stressful. 

“You’re not built for life out there, baby,” Negan told you once, which translated to life without me, but it’s not like you disagreed. You were sitting on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder, asking him to tell you about his day. You love the stories he tells you, because they make you feel even more grateful to be somewhere safe. 

Negan is so good to you.

You know that Negan is in charge of the place you’re at, and that makes you feel funny, and lucky, to be the woman he chose. You know it’s practically the apocalypse and all, but you’re sure he had a lot of women he could’ve chosen to date. He’s handsome, so handsome, and he’s the nicest, most generous man you’ve ever met. 

He gives people jobs, and medical care. He has a system to kill off all the walkers that come too close to the building, and it’s so smart that you know he must’ve come up with it himself. He has so many supporters and people that respect him - which tells you all you need to know, about him being an amazing leader. When he walks in a room, everyone gets quiet, and that makes you feel giddy, knowing the amount of power he holds. 

Although, it shouldn’t exactly surprise you. Negan was able to get power over you pretty quickly, but that’s only because you let him. It’s just - 

You don’t know how else to be. You’ve always been this way - ditzy, head full of air, dumb. You’ve heard it your entire life, which is maybe why it feels so good to hear Negan call you nice things. To love that you might not be the, what was it your father always said to you? Not the brightest candle on the birthday cake? Not the sharpest tool in the shed? 

You know you sound dumb - but you like sounding dumb. You like that Negan is around to think for you, to tell you what to do and when to do it. He tells you what you should be thinking, and you listen. 

Negan knows best. You could hardly survive on your own for a week, and look at what he built. 

Sometimes though, no matter how strong a leader Negan is, things get hard.

Bad things happen, little bunny, he tells you, patting his lap for you to take a seat. You do, and you look up at him with wide eyes, ready for whatever he plans on telling you. You know it has to be serious, because he didn’t ask you to take your clothes off yet. That’s usually the first thing out of his mouth, whenever he’s back in the room for the night.

Negan tells you that sometimes, people break his rules, and when that happens, they have to be punished. He asks if you heard anything while he was out, any screams or any loud voices - but you shake your head. You arch a brow, curious. “Why?” You ask, and he stares at you for a moment, tongue licking over his bottom lip. Then he grins, and you smile back cluelessly.

“That’s it, huh?” He says, but you know not to reply. You don’t need to. Talking out loud, Negan explained to you. 

Sometimes he’s just in shock, is all, about how clueless you really are. 

He maneuvers you easily, his little doll, into straddling his lap. Bucks his hips up, so you can feel what you’re doing to him just by existing. He killed three men today, burned the face off of another, and you’re looking at him like he hung all the stars in the sky. 

It’s beautiful, and Negan’s pretty sure this blind obedience and worship you have for him is the best kind of love he’s ever received. He’d do anything to keep you this docile. This trusting. 

This dumb, about who he is and what he does. You think he’s the nicest guy in the world, and you’re a sweet little thing. Why would he ever want to change that perception?

He reaches his hand between your bodies, to lift up the bottom of the big shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, to feel how wet you are. No panties, because he told you that they don’t exist anymore. Just - they were all taken. He didn’t know if you’d seriously believe that, but you do, and it’s just too good to be true. 

“Don’t mean to worry you about all that grown up, scary stuff, honey,” he fakes an apology, loves that your little cunt is ready for him, wet, shaved all proper, sucking his finger in when he starts prodding at your opening. You whine, biting on the inside of your cheek because his fingers are so long and you love the attention after you’ve spent all day alone.

You're not even offended at his little insult. Grown up stuff, as if you're not a full adult yourself. You're too busy focusing on the feeling of his ownership, the fact that you quite literally exist for him, like any good toy does.

Although, be real. Being finger fucked or not, it's unlikely you would've understood that comment was an insult anyway.

It’s your special time together, moments like these, and if it’s even possible - you become more brainless. Let him play with your pussy, let him push you down on the couch, slip his dick inside of you, make you so full that sometimes the feeling scares you a little, but you like it nonetheless. 

Your favorite part about the sex is how it feels to be in Negan’s arms after. Warm, body loose, his cum dripping out of you as he tucks you into bed. Back at that farmhouse, all alone, you cried yourself to sleep every night. There were so many scary noises, so much land that you could only imagine the horror that was lurking outside. When your family was alive, you were still scared -

They’d just tell you to shut up. But not Negan. 

There’s no fear with Negan, you think, closing your eyes as his arms wrap around you. 

You’re the safest you could possibly be. You think about this while your drift off to sleep, but Negan thinks the opposite -

He’s the face of nightmares to more people than he can name, but you cling to him like he’s your savior.

────

“You got any brains in that head? Or is it just filled with ribbons and whatever that frilly shit you’ve got on is called?” Dave, one of the men you hate most in this world, snaps the strap of your tank top against your shoulder so hard that it makes you want to cry. Your eyes fill up with tears, and in typical you fashion, you stomp your foot and use what little strength you have to push him away from you. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Leave me alone,” you whine (beg), arms crossed over yourself protectively when Dave finally steps back. 

He’s not alone - a few moments ago, you screamed and the men patrolling the compound heard and came running. But they did nothing to help, and instead, have made you feel bad about screaming at all. As if you could control your reaction to a fucking spider crawling across the toe of your shoe. Brand new shoes, you must add, because don’t these men understand how hard it is to get new shit nowadays? 

Don’t they understand how scary and dangerous spiders are? 

The honest truth is that it doesn’t cross your mind that these are the same men that risked their life to get you the shoes you’re wearing, but. They don’t have to be so mean. 

“No. You’re such a dumbass. Screaming like that’s fuckin’ dangerous,” another man says, and you don’t even know his name but being reprimanded like this makes you cry. Being called a dumbass makes you want to sob. You admit that, yeah, maybe you’re a little airheaded sometimes. Maybe you’re a little clueless, when adjusting to life in this new, yucky world, but fuck - would it kill people to be nice? 

Name calling is never the answer. 

“I’m not dumb,” you say softly, with no confidence in your voice. You should have known better than to leave the room without asking anyone to escort you. 

There’s no rule that says you can’t leave the room, but you’ve been at the sanctuary for months now, and you rarely leave the room you share with Negan unless he’s with you. Out of all the men that work for him - the only ones that treat you decently are the ones that were with him that day they found you at the farmhouse. 

The times you do leave the room, everyone treats you so weird. They’re all cruel, whispering about how stupid you are when you walk past, holding Negan’s hand. Or they just stare at you, which makes you feel insecure. It’s even worse when they ask you questions, because no matter how hard you think about the answer, they’re unhappy with it. 

You think to a few weeks ago, when you walked past a room with a bunch of women just sitting around. Negan said you weren’t allowed to go in there, but when his back was turned later that day, you walked over there to talk to some of them. 

“Negan know you’re here?” One of them asked, looking nervously behind your shoulder. Your brows furrowed, confused. 

“Huh? Uh, no, but it’s okay. I just never see any other women here, I,” but she cut you off, and you heard hushed whispers in the corner of the room where a small group of women sat together.

“You should go,” she said, dismissing you, and that was the last time you left the room. In the room, you’re safe. 

You’ve got things to do, and a big collection of stuff that makes you happy that Negan got for you. Clothes, magazines, even if they are old. Purses and things to color with, to paint with. You keep pretty busy most days. Plus, his side of the bed smells like him, and you love to nap next to it when he’s not around. 

You only left the room today because Negan didn’t come back last night, and you’re worried about him and very upset and lonely. 

You walked around the sanctuary, wondering where he could possibly be, when a spider crawled across your shoe and, well. Here you are. 

“A spider isn’t a fuckin’ emergency. Jesus fuck, I swear, Negan’s a sick son of a bitch for even fucking you. ‘S like you got a problem or something,” Dave says, and you wish you could just walk away and run back to the room, where you’d be safe, surrounded by all the things that make you happy - but they’re all blocking your path. 

“Yeah, man,” the other one says. You wish you weren’t so bad with names. “Scared of a spider but not scared of the fuckin’ walkers outside,” he scoffs, and somehow you find it in you to defend yourself. You wish you could say more, but you just can’t. It’s so frustrating, not being able to come up with anything to say on the spot. 

“Walkers used to be human. Spiders are icky bugs. I’m scared of bugs, not humans. I didn’t mean to scream,” but nobody is listening to you. 

“It’s not right, Negan fuckin’ you. Weird as shit. You got something wrong with you? Dropped on your head as a baby? Can’t feel right fuckin’ a dumbass doll, you’re real cute though,” and he just goes on and on while the other men laugh, and you can’t help it, tears are pouring. 

“I just want to find Negan. Where is he?” You try to wipe your eyes, hating yourself for being such a big baby. Hating yourself, for not paying better attention to the layout of your new home when Negan gave you a tour, because you were so focused on the feeling of holding his hand, that you paid no attention to almost everything else. You hate how dependent on him you are, and you wonder if he hates it too. 

Maybe he’s been gone because he’s sick of you. Maybe he’s going to bring you back to the farmhouse, because he doesn’t like you anymore. Maybe everyone else told him why they don’t like you, and now he believes them, and he’s such a good leader that - 

Footsteps, and then you hear the slow, deliberate chuckle you’ve come to know so well. You’d recognize Negan anywhere, even with your eyes closed. He rounds the corner, behind Dave and the other men, and they scramble like they’re stepping on hot coals with bare feet, making room for him. 

“Ohhh, no no no,” he says, voice like honey, and you wonder why. You wonder why he’s happy, until it clicks in your brain that this might be the sarcasm your brother used to always talk about. “See, I might let a lotta things go. But talking to her like that? That’s just beggin’ for a lesson in respect.” 

Negan doesn’t yell. Just tilts his head, eyes narrowing in on the men who were just being big old meanies to you. Your crying stops, but you’re so upset that you don’t even run to Negan like you normally would. You look down, towards your shoe, where Negan uses the tip of his bat to kill the spider that wandered off. 

“Go to our room, bunny. You know how to get back there, don’t you, sweet girl?” 

You don’t, not really, and you must freeze for long enough that Negan takes his eyes off the men and shakes his head. Then his eyes focus on you, and he nods in the direction to go.

“That way, baby,” he says with a sigh, and then you scamper off. 

────

Negan’s pissed - 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this emotion, but the truth is that he’s pissed at himself. 

He should have known better than to leave you alone overnight. He didn’t intend to be gone so long, but shit happened that he had to handle, and you’d been so easy to manage since you arrived. So good. So happy and at peace with what he gives you, eager for isolation in a way that even surprised him. 

He didn’t think you’d even notice if he was gone, but that was his mistake - because the minute he found you back in the room, crying your eyes out again, he set his bat by the door and hoped to god that you were dumb enough to not notice the literal pieces of brain stuck to it. Dave, and the others who were dumb enough to fuck with you? 

They were handled, and Negan finds it kind of funny that they had the nerve to insult your intelligence. As if speaking to you like that wasn’t about the stupidest, most suicidal thing a man at the sanctuary could do. 

“I’m so sorry, Negan. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” you sob, even as he sits down beside you and pulls your tiny frame into his lap. You latch onto him, sniffling and shaking your head, obviously disappointed at the way you acted. 

You’re such a good girl, that even when you don’t break the rules, you’re still worried about getting into trouble. Desperate for his approval, eager to please, eyes that look like that when they’re filled with tears. 

Jesus fucking -

Negan’s painfully hard, and he’s ready to take his cock out and tell you to lick it, bunny, yeah, like a lollipop, but he’s got to make you feel better first. His sweet girl, his best girl, worried that he might be mad at her.

“You’re not in trouble, baby, you know that? Did nothing wrong. Dave and the others will be taken care of, don’t you worry,” he rubs your back with one big hand, doesn’t even try to mask the fake concern and damn near baby talk just to make you feel better. Anyone else would be able to see right through it, but not you. 

Fuck, even that thought makes him harder. 

“I don’t know why they don’t like me, but,” you stutter out. “It’s not a big deal. Guess I’m just being a baby, I just missed you, and I got lost, and then there was the spider and,” Negan has to stop you there. 

“Not a big deal?” he echoes you, voice low and no longer sugar sweet. “Baby, someone made you cry. That is a big deal. That’s a fucking world-ending deal.”

Negan’s never felt this way about a woman. Protective. Sure, he’s felt possessive about his wives, will burn the face off of any fucking bastard who tries to touch them even if he’s ignoring them, but he could care less what actually happens to them. 

But you? Knowing that you were lonely. Lost, all dumb and cute wandering around the sanctuary. It was risky, he’ll admit, to have you think it’s alright for you to just walk around freely. What if you saw something that changed the way you thought about him? What if you hurt yourself, what is someone tried to touch you? He makes a mental note to think of some excuse to have you stay in the room from now on, unless he’s with you. Something to scare you. 

Just thinking about those fucking pieces of shit upsetting you - he might have to dig their decaying corpses out of the guts of the walkers he fed them to, just to kill them again. 

You’re nervous. He can tell, by how tense you are on his lap. Wordlessly, he grabs your hips and forces you to sit, enjoys the feeling of his bulge bumping up against the thin fabric that hides your cunt. No more underwear - fucking genius of him.

“Look, honey,” he starts, sighing again as if it’s hard for him to say this. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly. You know that -”

“You killed a spider, though. That’s kind of like a fly.”

Are you fucking serious? Negan ignores that. At least you’re not crying anymore. 

“Baby, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but anyone messing with you needs to have some consequences,” you’re pouting, and you look like you’re about to cry again, so he changes the subject. That’s always easy to do with you, and he feels a rush of affection for his sweet, dumb girl.

Gently, he pushes you off his lap so he can stand, then he grabs your hand to lead you to the bed. He takes your clothes off first, sitting on the edge of the bed while you’re standing between his legs, and he rubs his hands up and down your sides. 

So soft. So perfect, your cute little skirt falling to the floor. He helps you step out of it because he knows how clumsy you are, and when your breasts are bare he grabs both of them in his hands, rubs his thumbs over your nipples, lets the sexy sounds you make go straight to his dick.

“Where were you, Negan?” You ask, and that surprises him. Takes him aback, because you never ask him questions like that. If you were any other woman, he might think that you were trying to catch him in a lie or something - but because you’re you, he just leans in and kisses you, fists a hand in the back of your hair while he does it, a little roughly. 

You told him once, that he was too rough, and he told you that all men are like that if they really like a woman. That’s all he had to say. You believed him. Even asked him after that, on a night he was all gentle, if he still liked you. 

His dick gets harder, if possible, thinking about it. 

“You don’t need to worry your little head about that, alright? I’ll be honest with you, baby - I’ll probably need to go out again tonight,” he ignores your frown by standing, pushing you down on the bed. You’re on your stomach, and then he pats you on the ass, and you’re so good that you remember what that means. What you’re supposed to do. You get on all fours, and you don’t even whine like usual when he pushes down on your back to get you to arch. 

You don’t question him further, but maybe that’s because he takes his belt off, unzips his pants, takes his dick out and gets behind you on the bed. He runs the head of his cock, leaking, between your folds, grins at the way you’re trying to suck him in. Greedy little thing, how badly you want his cock.

He presses in a little, just to tease you, and you make small noises and move your hips a little. “What a good girl,” he talks out loud, but he knows that his girl likes a lot of praise. “Doesn’t matter how long I keep you on a shelf, dolly, does it? You’d be here, waiting for me. Ready for me, however I want you. Fuck,” he groans, when he bottoms out inside of you. 

Your pussy is better than all of his wives combined, but maybe that’s just because you’re his. His to break in, his to mold to his own liking. His to fuck, his to keep, his girl, his toy, his doll. Those other women - they weren’t even his to start with, which was a little fun, part of the appeal - but it’s nothing like this. Nothing is as good as this. 

Negan fucks you, and you take it. Honestly, it used to freak him out a little, how submissive you are. Just laying there, however he asks you to, keeping quiet if not for the little noises you make. You cum fast, whenever he touches your clit or finds that spot inside of you, and he knows it’s because you never touch yourself. 

He asked you once, if you play with yourself when he’s gone, but you looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t know how to,” you said, all embarrassed, but Negan wants to keep you that way. Like a pot that boils only for him, his little magic lamp. A few thrusts here, his fingers or a lick there and - boom. Squeezing his cock so tight it feels like it’s about to break off. Perfect.

He cums deep inside of you, hopes that one day he’ll be able to knock you up, but he’s still a little nervous about how you’d be as a mother. Maybe he could get one of his wives to help out if that happened, or maybe - 

He pulls his dick out of you, sweaty and spent, trying to screw his head back on straight. Maybe he should not even be thinking about starting a family right now. He’s got enough on his plate as is, especially when you turn around and look at him with hearts in your eyes, making grabby hands at him that just look too innocent when you’ve got his spunk leaking out of your pussy.

Negan lays down with you, and you lay your head on his chest, drawing hearts and little shapes with your finger on his skin while he catches his breath. 

“Bunny,” he warns after a few minutes, and you look towards him, position yourself on your stomach with your hands flat on his chest, your head balanced on top of them. You’re looking at him like he’s the sun, and shit if it's not waning on his evil streak just a little bit. You’re fucking precious.

“I don’t want to leave you, but I have some business to take care of,” and then your happy look fades. 

Even so, you try to snuggle closer, until he literally just pulls you closer. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt. What if someone hurts you, and you never come back?” Your voice is quiet, sad, and Negan almost blows his entire cover right there, almost wants to tell you that there’s no bigger monster than him just to tame your anxiety.

Instead, he changes the story. Tells you that there’s some insane guy out there, with a group of people who are taking supplies away from the sanctuary. They want to hurt people, they want to hurt him, but he’s arranging a peaceful talk and hopefully, they’ll agree. He’ll have plenty of backup, of course, and you know how good I am at staying calm, honey, and then you’re at ease, kissing him all sloppy because you miss him already, and really, it’s a perfect send off. 

“Good girl,” he tells you later, when you make it easy for him to leave. You don’t give him any shit. After fucking you, he spent a few hours just playing with you. Making you try on some of the new clothes he found you, he did a new puzzle with you (you’re surprisingly good at puzzles, and he’s impressed), and then he counted how many fingers you could take in your sweet little cunt before cumming (four). 

You had good quality time together, which is why his praise means so much. But who are you kidding: Negan’s praise is the most important thing in the world to you.

When he says goodbye, he makes you promise (pinky promise) to stay in the room. That someone will bring you food, but he’ll be back in the morning. You promise, stand up on your tip toes when he teases you by holding his hand higher than you can reach, but you end up grabbing his closed fist and you press a kiss to his outstretched pinky. Then you kiss him, and he asks you to keep his bed warm. Stay pretty for him, he says, shutting the door. Keep bein’ sweet.

When the door locks behind him, Negan thinks about you the entire way to the car, even with his men following him. He should feel bad about the way he treats you, but he doesn’t.

He tells you stories, half-truths painted in bright colors. You think he keeps people safe, that he’s a good person who does things for the greater good, and you’re always amazed that he’s willing to protect people like you, who can’t do anything without someone else calling the shots. 

It’s not so wrong though, he thinks, wanting to keep you in the dark. Someone like you deserves an opportunity to stay soft. If anything, he’s doing you a favor, keeping you sheltered like this. 

You stay soft, you stay blind to the cold, hard truth about the fucked up world around you. About the man you share your bed with.

He’ll kill and hurt and do whatever he has to do to survive, and because he finds a thrill in it - and you'll stay locked up like a pretty doll on a shelf, spending your days applying lotion and trying on pretty dresses, doing your puzzles and looking through your magazines. Dumb and oblivious and waiting on him to give you a purpose. Perfect.

Negan’s not a romantic, but he thinks that there’s something safe about not knowing the truth. Something kind of beautiful about believing in the myth of a good man.

That night, before Negan steps out of his trailer, before he lines up every member of the fucking group he’s been itching to put in their place for much too long now, he looks in his pocket for the picture of you that he snapped on a polaroid camera. Pretty, sweet, sitting on his couch in a pink tank top and a little white skirt. 

You’re beautiful, and you think he’s good. 

If he looks hard enough at you, he wonders if he’ll start to convince himself of it too. 

Negan Smith is a bad man, he knows - but he thinks you might be sweet enough for the both of you.

[16ferrari]

Falling for you

𖤓 — pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

𖤓 — summary: you’re crush on the well older man is revealed when walker plays wing-man

𖤓 — warnings: pinning, tension, suggestive content, fluff, john (with affection) being annoying. Edited but maybe some errors.

𖤓 — a/n: my first Bucky fic, not too sure how to feel about it, but i loved writing it!

Bucky Barnes, a name you heard a million times a day, wether it be on the news, an article or on paper.

But in your world, a name that could make your heartthrob like no other.

Your crush on the well older man, wasn’t new.

Anyone who looked at you could tell from a mile away you fancied him, eyes turned into hearts when you looked at him, red as a tomato cheeks, smile so wide it just about reached ear-to-ear, sweaty shaky hands when he took yours in his, words forming weird when he came around.

It made people laugh, really. How easily stupid, in a nice way, you went with him. How he could affect you in such ways, but you wouldn’t dare tell him the bombshell that is your crush on him, especially when he’s made it known to you, and those around him, he couldn’t handle relationships because his age is something he’s always thinking about when he’s with someone, and it affects him poorly.

However that still didn’t stop you from admiring the man, especially now, him in the boxing ring with bob, teaching him how to fight and defend himself. He looked good, to say the least. Wearing a tight while tank top, grey basketball shorts, long hair tied back in a ponytail, and sweat dripping down his body like he’d just jumped in a pool.

Your lip got caught between your lip as you watched him throw firm but gentle punches to bob, who was terrified out of his mind when it came to fighting Bucky. You watched his biceps pop out as he threw a punch, his arms looked godly fully glistering in sweat.

In your dead-full-focused on Bucky, john, who just so happened to appear right beside you in your daydream, cleared his throat loudly enough that Bucky looked at him and shot him a thumbs up, he shot you a quick smile that was to die for, which you just about did.

He turned his attention back to bob, punching him hardly in the stomach, which sent him down to the ground again, he got up from the floor groaning holding onto his now Bucky imprinted marks on his stomach.

“So, drop the news yet, kid” john so casually asked, bumping your shoulder with his. smirk wide on his face as he eyed you and the way you watched Bucky throw hits, more-so the way his arms fixated.

You threw an angry glance at him, “shut up, no” you tried to show a pissed off look to john, but the second Bucky looked at you again and gave you his infamous wink, you crumbled under the weight and turned red as a tomato.

John’s head fell back as he laughed loudly. “oh, you poor thing” he ruffed your hair, which you shooed his hand away. He leaned down to your ear, “you’re so crazy for him, it’s embarrassing sweetheart”

You know john meant his words in a light, teasing matter. But considering how absolutely down-bad you were for the older man, you ducked your head low, actual embarrassment setting in,

“i hate you” john fake gasped pretending to be hurt by your very weak comeback.

“Wow, I’m so hurt. Come on, you’re not even gonna show him hints you’re interested?”

You looked at him so fast, john flinched back like you were gonna hit him. “I’ve tried, walker, the old man isn’t so bight when it comes to girls showing their attraction for him”

John’s face lit up like he’d just thought of the most amazing thing. “maybe get in the ring with him” he shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Me, fighting?, yeah okay” like bob, fighting wasn’t exactly your strongest suit, you were better and trained better with weapons. “Never in a million years would i think about getting into a ring with Bucky”

John gave you a look, that you knew absolutely nothing good will come out of it. “Barnes” you froze like somebody had placed a target on your head and if you moved, you would drop dead, which in this case would be an better option than whatever john was about to suggest. “I have another thing, you can train for today” he proudly pointed at you, pushing you forward to get into the boxing ring.

You shook your head rapidly, feet coming to an halt from john’s pushing. “no, no, I’m good” god you’ve never wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away forever.

Bucky titled his head and hummed, a smirk plastered across his face. “You wanna go a round?” His hands came to rest on his waist, training bob now long forgotten as bob whined his way out the ring, murmuring a good luck under his breath to you as he limped away.

The words you formed in your head got stuck in your throat, so john answered for you,“Yes! she would love to go a round with you” john’s smile was teeth showing wide as he spoke for you.

You were gonna murder him in his sleep

Bucky walked over to the side you were standing at and held out his hand for you to take, “well, hop in doll” you felt like throwing up.

You took his hand in yours and let yourself get pulled into the ring with him in a quick motion. John walked to the way back with bob and gave you a thumbs up, and a stupid wiggle of his eyebrows. You quickly gave him the middle finger in return, and forced yourself to face the man you so desperately wanted to hide from.

“So, want easy or hard”

God you were about to drop dead, you stuttered out a response, “s-sorry?”

“Want me to go easy or hard on you, darling” bucky’s voice was laced with a darkness with and a hint of jokiness.

“Easy, please’’ your voice came out smaller than you wanted, which made him raise his eyebrows in a repeat yourself manner, “easy, please” you repeated louder, making a puff of air leave his lips in fake shock

“Thought you would of wanted hard” he joked.

“Well its my first time” in the background you heard john laugh hard, making your cheeks turn even redder than before. “Fighting!, i mean.. i’m better using my weapons skills instead”

In your distracted rant, Bucky had kicked your leg to the side, sending you easily down to the floor with a loud bang. “ focus” he yelled, letting you get up before throwing a punch to your stomach making you groan.

You bailed up your fist like yelena had taught you and took a swing at him, cussing yourself out when you missed and instead punched the air, giving him another opportunity to throw a hit to your side, which made you hunch over side pulsing badly from his strong hit.

“Said easy” you moaned through the pain.

“Nothing’s ever easy with me sweetheart”

Feet hitting against the pavement beneath you was all you heard as you maneuvered through his throws and punches. It was an never ending game of training, he was brutal with his hits and in return so were you, at least that’s what you thought. Bucky offered called you out in the mist of fighting, claiming your hits were so soft it was like he was getting hit with a feather.

Sweat soon coated your bodies, deep and loud breaths covered the room as you both kept taking swings at each other. Hit after punch, punch after hit, you wanted to stop, but Bucky didn’t allow you to, he made sure you learned his way of fighting the hard way, even if you wanted easy.

He moved his fist out to make contact with your face, but was surprised when you ducked perfectly on time. “Atta girl, you’re getting it” he tried another punch to the stomach, but was left stunned and shocked when you locked your leg around his and tugged him down to the ground.

You hunched over your knees, a silent celebration going on in your head at you finally getting the big, bold and tough man down. “got you” you spoke through loud breaths.

Bucky got up from his position on the floor like nothing and walked up to you, having no time to react he picked you up over his shoulder and threw you down to the floor with a loud thud, “you were saying” he straddled your stomach, hands on either side of your head.

“I hate you” you couldn’t face him, so you looked to the side, which only then did you realize john and bob were no longer in the room with you. “I had you, just couldn’t stand to lose”

Bucky grabbed your jaw and forced you to look him in the eyes, “oh you had me” he leaned down dangerously close to your lips, so close you could feel his breath on the surface, “just didn’t want to lose to you”

You chuckled heavily, “sore loser” you lightly pushed his stomach in hopes he’ll get the hint to get off you, but he didn’t move an inch. Now your stomach grew tight with nervousness settling in. “Fights over?” You asked with a tit of your head.

Bucky nodded, but just leaned back on his knees. “Tell me” he looked down at you, chest heaving up and down. “I’ve been hearing some stuff about you around the tower lately”

His hand dropped to softly touch your exposed skin from where your loose tank top gilded up, a even hotter heat coated your body. “what” you paused, “stuff”

Right then Bucky finally slowly lifted himself off you and sat down on the hard ground, beside your body which was frozen to the ground. “About your crush on me”

his confession made you shut your eyes in embarrassment, chest beginning to grow fear of him thinking you’re pathetic and weird for developing a crush on him, when he’s specifically told you he doesn’t love the ideals of relationships at the moment.

Your silences made him lightly uncomfortable, “is it not true?”

You swallowed a large amount of pride and finally answered him, “it’s true” you sat up, tugging your legs closer to you in hopes to protect yourself, from him, no, from rejection. “I know you’ve told me about your whole thing for disliking relationships, so I’m sorry”

“Why are you apologizing” you heard him scoot closer to you, so you were touching shoulder to shoulder.

Getting the courage you looked at him, “for liking you?”

Bucky chuckled, hand wiping the sweat from his face, “that’s a stupid thing to apologize for” you nodded, it was stupid to say sorry for liking someone, but it was the only thing you felt was right to say.

And then tension filled up the room, the whole training and fighting each other long forgotten as you both sat there in complete silence, one another trying to figure out the right words to say.

It was, for you, a difficult situation, your crush on the man finally coming to light after years of trying to hide them from him, and him sitting beside you not saying anything, just staring into space, not to your knowledge mouth full of things he wants to say to you, but too afraid to.

You cleared your throat and went to get up from the floor, everything that was going on getting too much for you to handle. You offered him a hand to help him up from the ground which he gracefully took.

Without any words, just glances at one another, you both left the training room together, walking side by side, each other going to your separate rooms. It was killing you really, the awkward silence and feeling between you both.

When you reached your room you took one last look at him before turning to walk into your room, what you didn’t expect however was he him pushing you into your wall, hands going to your hips, lips crashing onto your yours, in a longing feeling.

Your hands got tangled into his hair, tugging him forward as close as possible, afraid he’s giving you a sorrow rejection kiss to cover the pain he’ll leave you with, but him lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist told you this was something else, something more than longing, instead desperation and wanting.

He carefully carried you to your bed, lips not bothering breaking apart even to breathe. He laid you down on your sheets, hand coming to rest against your jaw opening your mouth so his tongue could make way into your mouth. He pushed open your knees farther apart to make move for him to settle comfortably between them.

You moaned into his mouth when you felt his knee brush against your clothed core. “Bucky” You spoke against his lips.

He broke the kiss, lips instead tracing down your neck where he kissed and sucked hard enough to leave marks. “Yes, doll?”

“This isn’t a pity kiss right”

he lifted his head from your neck and faced you properly. “I told myself to go to my room, leave you alone. But I just couldn’t stop myself from breaking my own rules for you”

Your fallen hair that covered your face, he moved. “I’ve liked you for awhile now, but the age..’”

You softly creased his face, “don’t even think about when I’m with you, Bucky”

He hummed, “i want this to work, but I don’t know how”

“I’ll teach you my way, you teach me your way”

He laughed softly, “doll, back in my day dating was a lot different”

You rolled your eyes, giggling a bit. “Okay then you teach me how you want me to be good fighter and I’ll teach you to how do this,” you made a hand gesture, “whole relationship thing”

“That sounds a lot better”

[eldritch-spouse]

Okay so I've fallen hard for your mushroom boys so i have a few questions about their species and them if that's alright!! Also sorry if this is a lot of questions haha,,

Species:

Okay so most of the mushroom monsters you've described have been pretty normal (well, not normal but like. In the shape of a average one lol) and im curious like, how would a mushroom monster that's a shelf mushroom monster look? After all, I dont think they have stems, they're just caps? Or maybe a puffball mushroom! Big ol boy!

If a mushroom monster was sick, how would that work? Would they start wilting? Do their caps get effected? For ones like Shags, does it effect their ink distribution?

Questions for morell!

How would he react to a piggy that can't taste? Maybe because their taste buds were burned, or their tongue was just gone entirely who knows.

How about a piggy whos SUPER allergic to certain foods? Or like that one girl who can only eat like, 14 types of foods and is allergic to pretty much everything else. Especially if piglet gets so annoyed because his food looks and smells so good!!! But will literally go into anaphalyctic shock if they eat it. (Does that stop them? ...no.)

I know he doesn't take pigs who are pregnant / kids due to the hunter law stuff, but how would he react if one was accidentally brought in? Like maybe a woman who wasn't physically showing yet or having a cryptic pregnancy (which are TERRIFYING i can't lie), or a kid accidentally got mixed in with the wrong place.

Would he ever take a mushroom monster or other monster partner or is he purely human lover? If so, are there certain monsters or behaviors he's enjoy from that?

Questions for Shags!

Same as the last question for Morell—would he like having a mushroom partner or another monster? If so, what would he like in them?

How would he react to an inkling who self-harms similar to him, not for depression or anything (maybe it started out that way), but because it looks good & feels nice?

I read that Shags has met Mothman and so: what if he had a moth partner? Silly guy (genderneu term for me) who sees Shags in a forest and goes "??? Lamp??? Where light????" Flying over, entirely oblivious that he is, in fact, a living person. Moth inkling who will now not leave him alone until they 'fix his light'.

How would Shags be as a father? What would his baby be like? Would his inkling struggle a lot like piglet because of the ink? Wait. Do. Do baby ink shrooms HAVE ink??? That sounds like hell to work with oh gosh.

[Some of these have already been answered. These are a lot of questions, so answers will be short.]

I kinda leave wiggle room for the looks. Mushroom monsters can have all kinds of cap shapes, be it bubbly and perky or saggy and droopy- Very voluminous and wet or flat and somewhat dry-ish.

What happens when a shroom gets sick?

Their caps will show it first, because that's the best way to read their overall health. A shroom's cap may:

Wilt around the edges;

Become unnaturally dry and flakey;

Loose shape;

Drastically change pigment;

Bloat and even explode (lethal);

Rot (deadly);

Cap auto-cannibalism (also deadly);

Etc...

For ink-producing shrooms, a variety of other symptoms may pop up, such as:

Complete dryness;

Overwhelming ink-production;

Foam-like consistency;

Overly thick ink;

Pigment in the ink;

Cap "clogging" (blockage, like having clogged nostrils but if it could kill you)

How does Morell deal with a Piglet who can't taste?

He's disappointed, obviously. But at the end of the day, it's more important to him that you're eating well, regardless of being able to taste things or not.

It is interesting to see you eat a dish most humans find the taste of repulsive though.

How does Morell deal with severe allergies?

Simple. He avoids them. Morell has no desire to trigger any severe shock or minor allergic reaction. He'll ask about your food allergies, and if you're difficult about it, he'll have Patches test you for a definitive list.

Even if your pool of safe food is extremely small, the chef will get crazy with dish presentation and other embezzlements in order to create artificial variety.

How does Morell deal with pregnant humans or kids?

They're returned to their estimated areas of extraction, with no memory of where they were prior.

Morell will never knowingly butcher a child or a pregnant woman. It's the job of suppliers to check before delivering anything to him. He can accidentally butcher a pregnant woman who isn't visibly gravid, which is upsetting to the chef. He'll discard the unexpected organic matter.

Would Morell or Shags take monster lovers?

Morell could try, it wouldn't work out. His fetish for humans is too tempting.

Shags would. However, he's still a humanfucker (as are all monsters here). He has no preference.

Shags with a inkling who self-harms for the same reasons?

It'll mostly spur his obsession further. There's some concern since you're unable to heal your body from scars and amputation the way he is.

He'd like to carve into you one day, make something beautiful on your body.

Shags with a moth partner

Possible. He does have an interest in all kinds of cryptids, and he is mildly lamp shaped.

Shags as a father

Soft-spoken. Has a tendency to be permissive and sometimes exposes his own child to things that are a little too macabre.

He wants to foment every creative impulse his own child has, and actually stops self-harming for the sake of not transmitting that to the kid.

He's extremely involved in his child's life, because his parents were emotionally absent from his.

The baby

Depends. Is he having a child with a human? With another monster?

They will certainly inherit dad's eccentric style. Maybe be a great artist or a critic. Maybe they'll speak quietly like him.

Baby shrooms and ink

Ink-producing shrooms typically start producing ink around early teenagehood, as a part of the puberty process- Where all kinds of changes take place. During this phase, they should be taught self-care regarding their ink, have some changes in wardrobe, and typically learn to study their own health through their ink.

[cricky-butspicy]

No idea if this has been asked before, and there's too many answers to go through for me to ACTUALLY find it- question for Slasher boys!

If the reader was, let's say, hurt by their family and possibly kicked out for coming out to their family as gay, bi, trans, or anything along the LGBTQ+ spectrum before they went off to college, how would the Slasher boys react to finding out that tidbit of knowledge?

ANOTHER THING- EXPECT ART OF MY READER INSERT AT SOME POINT IN TIME WHEN I FIGURE OUT MOST OF HIS DESIGN. You have a moth lover reader insert coming at ya, prepare yourself for tiny, moth color painted desk helper robots he collects and names, and prepare yourself for cute, moth themed jackets

I think there is a way to go to the magnifying glass and search posts by words/tags they contain! It's easier than going through the whole blog. If anything, I usually will link you an answer if it's been previously answered! So, no worries! This one hasn't been answered.

They seem fine at a glance. Of course they are sorry you had to go through that and are upset by it, but really, it's hard to see how upset they are by it. Like the tight fists and the bitten tongues and the pure rage trying to seep out of their skin. They focus on you when you tell. They make it about you and how they are worried about you and your feelings. They don't let you see just how worked up they are from hearing something so terrible.

Hope that these boys don't know your home address and hope that you don't give them time to find out! Also hope that you are clear on who was bad and who was good to you in your family. Otherwise you might just find that they are taking a "trip" for a few days! Where are they going? Oh, nowhere special. Just a little place they know that they want to spend a little time at. Oh? You want to come? Sorry, but maybe next time! They just need a little them time is all!

And if you look and see in the papers that your family was massacred, don't even worry about it! You get calls about them all passing away under a mysterious attack? Murderers that look to have killed in cold blood. That's so strange! Who could have done it? And Soleil and Atlas come back and ask you how you've been while they've been away and you tell them of this "tragedy" and they wonder what on earth could have happened! They comfort you a lot; they do know even separated family can have complicated ties to a person, but they assure you everything will be alright. They were so cruel to you. They didn't deserve you. You're better off without them. They'll help you through this. Everything will be ok <3 And you know, you are perfect just the way you are, right? No one could ever tell you differently, you know? Not on their watches. Not. On. Their. Watches.

In reality, this is a hard one for both of them to hear. Soleil has some major problems accepting his own sexuality while Atlas's mom has major problems accepting his sexuality and his older-half sibling's, Deimos, sexuality and gender identity. Soleil is scared his family and the world would despise him for coming out and accepting his feelings (which I will tell you, would never happen with his family. They are a very accepting group of people and love him no matter what) while Atlas's mom wants to save her children for her god (who she assumes is their god naturally.) Atlas thinks it's horseshit, and will openly flaunt how in love he is with Soleil around her and that Deimos is fucking Monty behind her back (which she full-heartedly denies,) and that her god can screw themself. He's not worried about other people's opinions like that. Especially not his mom's.

They take care of you in the way they know how.

-

I look forward to your self insert!!! I live to see them all! 🥰💕 Poor Soleil will have a time! He's terrified of most flying insects but especially of butterflies with moths as a close second! He's a fearful guy! But I LOVE MOTHS SO I'M EXCTIED!

[starry-bi-sky]

more about og tue timeline twins danny and dan/jamie

very touchy with each other. you might even say. ccclingy. its to be expected, they're two halves of a whole after all and all they've got of each other. worryingly co-dependent. do not separate. ever.

Danny was really weak and sick after the initial separation, and was for a while after. Jamie knew internally that if Danny died, he'd take the whole world with it. He was the one sole caretaker for him while he got better -- not for lack of trying on Vlad's part, but without his ghost powers he was nothing more than a feeble (albeit handsomely rich) man, and James looked ready to bite his head off if he got within ten feet of either of them.

Vlad is intimately aware that James (or Danny, if he tried) could snap his spine in half like a twig, and is uncomfortably aware of his own lack of ghost half now. It makes him feel self-conscious and exposed, so he never fully returns back to "cocky and self-assured billionaire Vlad Masters". Making deals with other brands feels a lot harder now that he can no longer possess them anymore.

Speaking of, he very quickly has to come up with a cover story as to why there's now a James Daniel Fenton to the public, when no records whatsoever of him existing existed prior. Lots of forging false government documents on his end. James and Danny do not help because it's his fault this happened in the first place.

(Regardless of whether or not Danny actually willingly chose to rip out his ghost half/humanity in canon is true, or if that was Vlad Masters speaking out of his ass, a large part of the blame still falls on Masters.)

(As his primary caretaker and guardian, it's his responsibility to ensure the health and safety of his charge, and since Danny was in clear emotional duress at the time, it can be argued that he was not in the mental state to make such a decision. And, allegedly, couldn't do it on his own which is why he asked Vlad for help.)

I chose "James" as Dan's name since it's a popular fanon middle name for Danny, and since he's half of Danny, it felt like it just made sense lol. Also because of the ensuing comedy of the two of them introducing themselves as "James Daniel Fenton" and "Daniel James Fenton". It's got the same energy as "danny with a y" and "danny with an i" and it's the exact kind of name bullshit you expect parents to give their twins.

I don't have their exact personalities down, but something I am actively writing into this au's bible is that I think Danny should be the quiet and (ig technically) meaner one. There's a lot to go into about interpretations for ghosts, halfas, and the incident itself, but TL:DW; Danny is technically soulless, or at the very least missing half of his soul (altho Jamie is too just in a different direction).

Pair that with the trauma of losing his family in front of him + having his ghost half ripped out + all the trauma he would've sustained as a hero, and he's not doing too hot mentally! i think if the twins met good timeline!Danny, Danny would've mistaken Danny for Dan and Jamie for the original half.

He comes off to others as pretty apathetic and indifferent to a borderline terrifyingly calm degree. He doesn't go out of his way to insult people, but he also doesn't care enough to consider the other party's feelings so he doesn't filter himself, which makes him come off as rude. The only times he looks truly comfortable is when he's near Jamie or talking to him.

His standoffish, ice prince demeanor makes Jamie look like a saint in comparison. When really he's not all that much better? He's more outwardly emotional than Danny, whether that be positive or negative, but at the end of the day he doesn't trust or care about anyone else any more than Danny does, and he's got a bit of a sadistic streak. Danny reigns him in when he starts becoming too destructive.

(Which I think makes sense. Danny asked Vlad to rip out his ghost half specifically so he could stop feeling his human emotions. Dan, despite his monotone voice, does exhibit emotions. He's smug when he asks Valerie if he likes his ghostly wail, sardonic when he reunites with Sam and Tucker, annoyed, shocked at Danny's ghostly wail, etc. He enjoys wreaking destruction and chaos.)

(If Danny had survived his encounter with Dan and if Vlad was successful, then I imagine he'd be rather apathetic to his other half as a whole. That'd be interesting.)

Overall though they're both hurt, bitter, and distrustful of the world around them, with abandonment issues a mile wide. They can get better and they can heal, but it takes time and patience and proper support.

On the DPxDC side of things, they do genuinely hold some kind of respect or regard for Bruce. They also don't become vigilantes for a while. Neither of them are jumping at the bit to enter heroism again, not when it was heroism that killed their family in the first place.

In fact when they find out Bruce = Batman they think he's foolish for it. They think its a fool's errand, and they've been so spurned by their time as Phantom that for a few weeks, Jamie even refused to call Bruce anything but Sisyphus. Danny called him Tantalus, and the two of them had a faux-argument about which one was more accurate.

Bruce does, though, worm his way into both of their hearts, and that's like, the main reason they become vigilantes to join him. So that they could keep him safe and not because of any desire to return to the heroic life. Relearning to care and finding satisfaction in helping others was an unintentional side effect.

(Bruce is so very smug)

Essentially:

The Twins: this is our squishy and fragile adoptive father. If anything happened to him, we're becoming mass extinction events.

Bruce: Nnno.

[ilkkawhat]

idk if it's just cause i am just like. scared about the idea of taking time off for my health and/or being sent to the hospital (for what, I don't know but i will say i've had a lot of heartburn lately and with my last blood being in the diabetic range who knows what's going to happen with this new one i just got taken), or if it's that i've been told twice now, but idk how i feel about this statement of "you're too young to feel this way" in regards to me just melting down every goddamn day. like does that mean if i was 50 years old it'd be acceptable and expected?

[herenvibing]

so we all agree that kishibe gave birth to yoshida right? assuming yoshida’s around denji’s age that would place kishibe in his thirties when he was born, which is completely feasible. the only thing that really hurts this theory for me is that i can’t really fathom Kishibe managing to go nine months without drinking, nor can i imagine him spending nine months pregnant at all. he’d be basically out of commission by the end and i don’t see public safety offering parental leave to someone so integral to the operation

[hqmillioncorn]

hell have no wrath like a girl trying to get her brother together with someone

Sofia tugged her arrow off from the target and turned to Babycorn. "Miss Babycorn? How can I become as strong as you?!" That question caught Babycorn completely off guard, partially because it had come out of nowhere. The other reason being that Babycorn hadn't hit any single target in the hour and a half they had been training. "Well uh..." Babycorn nervously looked around, wringing her hands. "I wouldn't say I'm that strong." Not strong enough of a level to aspire to at least. "Of course you're strong!" Sofia exclaimed, "Because no matter how often you get it wrong or get yelled at someone for hitting them with an arrow-You keep trying again and again!" Babycorn let out a quiet "Huh..." She never really thought about that. "I think they call that being stubborn...?" The word sounded familiar. "And that's why you're my teacher!" Sofia pointed right at Babycorn with determination in her eyes. "Cause I'm never gonna give up either! No matter how annoying I get!"

with @ windupnamazu 's linnet and pancake

lalapril 18: allied

cherrypit decides to introduce sofia to some of his other friends!! yay!

If you walked up to Sofia and asked her directly how many friends she had she would probably tell you first, buzz off and second, that sort of stuff didn't matter.

Truthfully Sofia didn't have many friends. Not around her age anyway. As a future hero of the realm she already knew she was bound to make a million friends on her adventures.

So who cared if her only friend for now was an eternal two-year-old with freaky eyes?

She supposed that Babycorn counted too but that was more of a mentorly relationship than a friendship. That’s what Sofia kept telling herself anyway. Though it was far from how she really felt about her bond with Babycorn.  

Even so, when Cherrypit told her he wanted Sofia to meet some of his friends she was surprised, shocked and doubtful at the same time. “You have friends beside me!?” It was hard to believe at first but the more Sofia thought about it, the more it made sense. 

Cherrypit happily nodded, the same happy smile on his face that he took with him everywhere. 

“Incredible. The toddler has more friends than me.” 

Sofia fell back dramatically on the steps of the Adder’s nest, blocking some people from entering but that wasn’t important. What was important is that Cherrypit thought it was funny to clap and laugh for her.

“Hehe. Easy.” Toddlers had such a simple sense of humor. 

It was probably a weird sight, a teenager and a baby just hanging out (while the baby’s sister finished up some deliveries for their grand company.) One would probably assume she was babysitting him or something but that was far from the actual truth. 

She and Cherrypit had actually become friends back when he was in his sister’s body, so of course she just assumed they were around the same age. How was she ever supposed to know he was just two-years old?!

Especially with the archery skills he showed at the time?! It all drove Sofia absolutely crazy that he was somehow better than her. It did take a bit but she eventually came to accept Cherrypit as an equal. Even if he was better at hitting targets than her. 

Then it all came crashing down when the truth just happened to come out. 

Of course Sofia would be upset after being lied to, even if Cherrypit didn't mean to. It was their first fight besides the one before that. 

It wasn’t until her actual hero, Babycorn Corn, talked to her about her little brother’s unique circumstances that Sofia started to actually forgive him. It probably couldn’t be easy staying the same age while the rest of your friends grew up. Leaving you behind in the shadows…

She herself knew she would hate being five-years-old for the rest of her life. 

‘You can’t reach things on the top shelf AND everyone treats you like a baby?! No thanks!’ 

And as a monarch she couldn’t just abandon one of her subjects in their time of need like this. Even if they hadn’t been entirely truthful. That and it was kind of cool having a transforming overpowered and potentially evil but heroic baby on her side. 

“You didn’t trick your other friends into thinking you were bigger than you were, did you?” It didn’t hurt to ask. That would just mean she and Cherrypit’s other friends had something in common. 

Cherrypit shook his head. “Knew fior-!  Big!” That meant that he had been friends with them for a long time. “Like thiiiiiis!” Cherrypit put his hand up in the air, trying to tell Sofia that he had known his friends since they were just a little bit taller than him.   

By now Sofia had been friends with Cherrypit long enough that she understood some of his unique baby explanations. Though his baby babble that went on for at least five minutes was still out of reach for her. “So you knew them ever since they were really young?” That was just like her!  

Though judging from Cherrypit’s little explanation they might have been even younger than Sofia had been when she first met him. 

“So what are they like now?”

Cherrypit pointed right at Sofia. 

“T-They’re like me??” 

Cherrypit nodded. He first had the idea of shapeshifting into his besties but Babycorn had practically begged him to stop doing that in places that had a lot of people.

Or else they would end up sending a whole crowd of people to the hospital again. 

Meanwhile Sofia was daydreaming about the possibility of meeting people that were just like her. “Wow…” Maybe they were even princesses too?! Anything was possible. 

By now Babycorn had finished her turn-ins and come back with a new spring in her step. “Back! Okay Sofia? Did you still wanna have that practice fight?” It wouldn’t be too serious but Babycorn knew Sofia could tell when she was holding back. Not that Babycorn still didn’t try 

Sofia almost looked surprised to see Babycorn back. “Y-Yeah-! I wanted to but first can I ask you something?” Surely Babycorn would know about Cherrypit’s friends too if she was his older sister. It would also be just a little easier to understand what she was saying too. 

Though this was not always the case. 

“Sure! Go right ahead!” 

“Does Cherrypit really have friends that are like me?” Sofia looked up at Babycorn with the biggest pleading eyes she could muster. Though she wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was just something that happened naturally. Like the seasons changing or anteaters eating ants. 

Babycorn thought about it for a second. “Oh yeah, I would say they’re around your age. Little older but…” Sofia had just had her 17th nameday just two months ago so that would put her around the same age as both girls, if not a little older. Possibly.

“Really?!” Sofia must have jumped up at least three malms into the air. “Can you introduce me to them?!” She just had to meet them!!

“Please Bebe?!” Even Cherrypit was excited. If his friends became friends with his other friend then that would mean that he would have way more friends to do friend things with and they could all be together and have fun!! Being friends!!!!

Cherrypit turned to Sofia and excitedly started to bounce around. “See Pankaa! And Leemeet!” 

“Ooooh! Are those their names?!”  

“Mhmm!!”

Well they were close enough. Babycorn figured Pancake and Linnet would correctly introduce themselves when they got there. “I mean I don’t see why not…” As far as Babycorn remembered there wasn’t anything going on at the mansion. And both Pancake and Linnet were probably going to be home too, unless something else came up. 

“Then what are we waiting for?!” Sofia just went for it, grabbing Babycorn’s hand and pulling her forward and towards the serpent gate. 

“Woah-! Woah! Hold on! Don’t we have to ask someone if you can go first?!” 

As Sofia continued to drag Babycorn through Gridania she took the time to look back. “Don’t worry! They already said yes!” Though to be accurate, Sofia’s caretaker for the day had told her she could go anywhere she wanted to today as long as it was in Gridania. 

Which worked out because she knew Babycorn and Cherrypit lived in the Lavender Beds!

Which was��SORT OF in Gridania. If you really thought about it.

That was good enough for Babycorn! “Yeah okay!” She never was one to consider if someone was bending the truth to her. Even just a little. 

As the trio began to exit Gridania, deciding to take the long way to the Lavender Beds by the way, Sofia began to talk Cherrypit’s big ears off about what they could do when they get there. 

“We could talk about all sorts of things! Like favorite food and favorite colors! Oh-! And we could also compare our heights to each other! I guess I’d probably be the shortest. Unless they’re also around my size! And-! And-! We can go shopping for cute clothes too! It’s gonna be so much fuuuun!!” 

Cherrypit was resting on top of Sofia’s head, nodding as she kept talking. “Yeah! Yeah!” It was gonna be so much fun. Think of all the fun games they could all play together too!

Babycorn couldn’t help smiling. Something about this was just so familiar to her.  

It turns out taking the long way to the Lavender Beds meant it took a longer time to get there. Who knew? On the bright side, Sofia had the smart idea of asking Cherrypit more about his friends. It always helped to be prepared after all. 

“Sooooo~ What are your friends like Cherry?” 

“Nyah?” Cherrypit broke his concentration from levitating a stick off the ground, letting it drop. It got him thinking, how was he gonna answer this? There were lots of things he could tell Sofia about Pancake and Linnet.

Like all the games they played together or how when they were smaller they used to sneak into Lunya’s room and hide under her bed. 

But wait-! Cherrypit thought of the perfect thing to tell Sofia. Besides that Pancake wanted to be a delivery moogle when she grew up and Linnet would write letters to herself that Pancake would deliver back to her. 

“Curse! Pankaa and Leemeet curse!”

Curse? “Like they say bad words?” Sure she wasn’t allowed to curse when she was at home but outside it was all fair game. 

Cherrypit shook his head and picked up another stick from the ground. “Cuuuuuurse!” He waved it around like a magic wand. Then after a bit of him building up momentum he pointed it right at a pile of leaves, as it EXPLODED into flames!!

Sofia screamed and jumped back. “Cherry-!!?” She was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to do that. 

And she was right because as soon as he did Babycorn turned around and called him out directly on it. “Cherry! Remember we don’t set stuff on fire when we’re not at home!!” A very simple rule that Cherrypit sort of always just remembered being a part of his life. 

“Sowry…” The truth was he wasn’t really that sorry.

But Babycorn let him off easy every time. “Okay~! Just don’t do it again!” 

Sofia wasn’t going to let him get off that easy though, especially since this was supposed to be the answer of how his friends cursed. Once Babycorn had walked far enough Sofia grabbed Cherrypit from the ground, holding him up in front of her. “What the hells was that?!” 

It came as more of a shock that the elementals just sort of let him get away with it too.

“Curse!” Cherrypit cheered. “Pankaa and Leemeet curse!” Thankfully the stick was no longer in his hand so Sofia guessed that there would be no more sudden fires anytime soon. Sadly, she couldn’t be more wrong but Cherrypit learned his lesson for now.

Sofia furrowed her brow, a sense of panic rising in her chest. “W-Wait so your friends-they explode stuff like you too?” 

Cherrypit nodded. 

It made sense, he had to get it from somewhere. And last Sofia checked Babycorn hadn’t blown anything up since they first met. 

“Magiiiks! Cuwse!” Cherrypit continued to explain. 

Sofia’s eyes widened, “A…Magic Curse???” She nervously adjusted the tiara on her head. Clearly she couldn’t have heard right. “L-Like the kind of curses that make princesses sleep forever or turn prince’s into frogs?!” Those were the worst kind! Only truly evil blackhearted people would even dare think of casting those!

To Sofia’s dread, Cherrypit nodded. 

“You’re joking right?!” What kind of company did Cherrypit keep?! “Aren’t you afraid they’re going to curse you or bake you into a pie or something!” 

The mention of pie sent Cherrypit squealing and running in circles. “Pie! Cherry! I pie! Cherry pie!” Of course he was referring to the game they once played where they stacked blankets on top of each other. With so many layers on top of him Pancake and Linnet referred to him as being a ‘Cherry pie.’ 

Of course Sofia hadn't been there. So the context was entirely lost on her. “What?!?!? They baked you into a pie?! How did you get better?! Did your sister break the curse with the power of love?” Sofia stopped to think for a moment. “Or did she have to eat you out?” 

Cherrypit failed to answer her question and instead just gave Sofia a whole other question to deal with. “Cuwaaaaaaaaaaa! Boowahboom!” Not that Sofia realized it at first. 

“...W-What…?” 

Babycorn looked back and provided a quick translation. “Cherrypit means that he saw them trying to cast a spell from a book once!” Right after that she turned right back and continued playing with her cat’s cradle completely wrong. 

“Reallyyyyy?” Things just got ten times scarier. 

And they were about to get horrifying. 

Cherrypit smiled wide, swaying side to side. “Cuwse! Perpon!” Then he took his little finger and moved it across his neck. “Cuwse like this!” He would have added the extra effect of actually having his head fall off but he didn’t want to make Sofia scared. 

But it was already far too late for that because Sofia was about to start crying because what was Cherrypit SAYING?!

“Then…gone! All gone!” 

(Cherrypit whispered that last little tidbit.) 

“You don’t mean they…” Sofia lowered her voice to be as quiet as she could, looking around for anyone that could be listening. Other than Babycorn. “...did they manage to kill someone?” 

Cherrypit nodded. “Yupe!” he answered. 

Oooooh…This was a really bad idea. 

Well it was too late to back down now.

Here they were, standing in front of the mansion’s gate.

In retrospect maybe Sofia should have told someone she was coming here so one of them could come pick up her dead body after she dies at the hand of a curse. 

Cherrypit took hold of one of Sofia’s fingers and looked around at the front lawn. It didn’t take long for him to spot where Pancake and Linnet were. “There! There!” He jumped up and down, pointing at them. “It’s Pankaa and Leemeet!” 

The two of them were sitting down on the deck, eating snacks and talking with each other. 

“Well you two better go and say hi before I go and eat all the food!” Babycorn joked while also being completely serious. She was ten seconds away from losing all restraint and just chowing down on them. 

At least she would have been if she hadn’t been distracted by a caterpillar crawling on the fence.

Sofia tried to think of any excuse she could make that would let her turn around and go back home but before even a single idea could cross her mind, Cherrypit was already pulling her forward. “AHH-! Waitwaitwaitwait!!!” She knew Cherrypit was strong but why did he have to be this strong!!!

No matter how much she tried to dig her princess-y shoes into the dirt she very unfortunately kept moving forward. Until she was right in front of Cherrypit’s friends.

Who of course, quickly noticed the presence of their friend. “Good morning Cherry!” Linnet waved at him, throwing a chocolate-chip cookie into his mouth at the same time. She let out a little clap and cheer when he caught it, first try just like always. 

Pancake threw her own cookie at Cherrypit, this time a little higher than Linnet had thrown it. “Hi Cherry! Morning!” Of course he jumped up to catch it right in mid-air. “Awesome!” Both girls said in unison. 

Now that their usual greeting was done, it was time to ask the important question. “Who’s your friend? Are you going to introduce us?” Linnet asked. Neither her or Pancake had ever seen her around so either she must have just moved in or Cherrypit brought her here from across the continent. 

Wouldn’t have been too surprising.

Now was the time! “This my friend!” Cherrypit excitedly gestured towards Sofia, a strange curtain of sparkles rained down from the sky. Not the weirdest thing he’d ever done, by far,  so no one really batted an eye. “Soapie!” 

Not the strangest sounding name Pancake and Linnet had ever heard, that’s for sure. 

“Nice to meet you Soapie! I’m Pancake!”

“And I’m Linnet! It’s nice to meet you too!”

“I-uh. It’s actually Sofia…Or you could also call me Sofie. No one could really figure out how to spell it on my birth certificate and uh…Well i-it’s a whole thing…” Sofie quickly shut her mouth, afraid of what would happen next. “...That um, doesn’t really matter. I guess I do like the nickname Soapie but just in case you want to know……..” 

Sofia was getting a bit of mixed messages here. These girls seemed…nice?!

Not at all the kind of people who would just go around cursing princesses, let alone killing people with curses. They just seemed like regular people. The kind that Sofia wouldn’t mind having a tea party with. Or even just hanging out together…

“Do you want some snacks?” Pancake extended a small plate towards Sofia. “My brother made them for us! So if we run out we can ask him for more!” 

“I….” Sofia wasn’t sure. 

Was she just being shy? A part of her was still really scared of the curses but…

As if that mattered-! Her best friend right now was someone who liked to roll around in graves and quite possibly killed someone by popping them like a balloon!

Who cared if someone she knew liked to cast curses on people! Not to mention, if she was their friend then maybe they could curse someone for her! 

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer sort of thing!

Linnet spoke up again. “Since you’re Cherry’s friend, do you also have a toy that helps you with chores and homework?” She pulled up a stuffed rabbit and placed it on her lap. “This is Lupyon! Lunya and Cherry gave her to me when I was younger as a nameday present!” 

“They gave me one too!!” Pancake held up her own stuffed animal. “Sometimes when we’re not looking they clean up and sometimes they’ll even leave us little candies too!” 

Neither girl had ever seen their stuffed animal moving with their own two eyes but they had a strong suspicion that was only reaffirmed by Cherrypit’s toys walking around the house by themselves. 

That all sounded pretty unbelievable. 

To someone who probably didn’t know who Cherrypit was. But to Sofia, it made perfect sense. For the worse. “WhAt?!” Sofia crossed her arms and looked straight at Cherrypit. “You mean you can just do that?! And you didn’t give me one?!” 

To think she could have been able to skip out on cleaning the chocobo tables for YEARS now.

Cherrypit answered simply with a smile and a cute little, “Sowrryyy~”

He wasn't sorry at all.

[emiplayzmc]

So many parody variant RP accounts of DW characters on Twitter....... must draw fanart.... ough.....

(Rambling in tags lol)

[arkangelo-7]

I’m sure someone’s already headcannoned this, but Bruce having pet names for the Batkids? Man, those are his babies—you can bet your ass he has pet names for them. He might not be the type of man to show much affection beyond a shoulder pat or the occasional forehead kiss, but he’s determined to parent the crap outta these orphans, and pet names are an easier medium to show that he cares.

Dick is both “chum” and “sweetheart” depending on the context. When Bruce is feeling playful and comfortable (the easy, “your mine and I’m just happy to be here with you” kind of love), he’ll stick with “chum” and Dick absolutely loves it. But when Dick’s sick or has a nightmare or got injured during patrol? It’s sweetheart. It’s default mode for Bruce, because seeing Dick in pain brings up so many raw, intense emotions (Bruce gets scared, goddamit) that it’s easier for him to say “I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay, just keep your eyes on mine,” then it is to say “I’m so terrified that I’m going to loose you, I love you, you’re my everything.”

Jason is“Jaylad.” But it’s less of the name that’s important and more of the story behind it that is. For the first few months that Jason was in Bruce’s care, Bruce didn’t dare call him anything other then his name, in fear that he’d scare him away (he was already so distrusting, so hesitant, so fearful whenever Bruce talked to loud or moved to fast or got upset), but at the same time, he’d seen how pleased Dick had been at being called “chum” and wanted to bestow a similar endearment on Jason. But—he didn’t want to go to far. So instead of calling him “lad” like his own father had once called him, Bruce calls him “Jaylad.” It’s a little more impersonal, but it makes Jason more comfortable. (But when Bruce cradled his son’s broken body he said “no, darling, not you, don’t leave me—” because just how Dick is “sweetheart,” Jason has also always been “darling.”)

For Tim… it’s more complicated. He shoved his way into Bruce’s life and he’s forever grateful, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Jason and Dick. He sees Tim as his son, of course, but their relationship was built on the darkest, most despairing part of Bruce’s life. But even in that terrible season, Bruce would look over at Tim working on a case or cleaning his suit and say, “Good job, sport.” It doesn’t happen often, but Tim is “sport.”

Cassandra is “love.” Bruce has never said it to her, aloud, but he knows Cass can read him well enough to hear the unspoken endearment, to see how much he longs to protect her, bring her joy, fill her heart with all the love she’s filled his with.

Steph is “duck.” And not necessarily because Bruce decided that it was, but because 9 times out of 10 he finds himself screaming, “Robin, get down!” because Stephanie will not for the love of God follow his orders, and end up right in the line of fire. To save time he eventually just started saying “Duck!” It keeps Steph from getting whacked to high heavens and saves Bruce (another) heart attack, but over the years it’s also become somewhat of a ritual to say “duck” whenever Steph walks in the room. Bruce secretly wants to call her “ducky” (which is what his mother called Kate), but he’s never worked up the nerve.

Duke is “kid.” By the time he’s in the family, Bruce has loosened up and lightened up, especially with everyday affection (which is to say, he’s not avoiding it like the plague). He’s quick to say “Good job, kid” whenever Duke had an accomplishment or ask “how are you today, kiddo?” when they see each other in passing in the Batcave.

Damian, lastly, would never allow Bruce to call him anything other then his name. But every once in a while, Bruce can get away with saying “son.” And it’s the best thing in the world.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with the homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say it doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly every day during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

As book!Tom who grew up in an orphanage: he's secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[harrysfolklore]

still a little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz don’t hate each other anymore, but she still calls him a little bitch. PART ONE word count: 9.1k + social media posts

folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO OF LITTLE BITCH!!! i’m going to be completely honest with you i’m beyond terrified of posting this. little bitch was overwhelmingly liked by all of you and i’m scared this won’t live up to it 😭 but i really really hope you like it. i’m not a fan of doing part two’s of fics but this one deserves it <33 buckle up for a ride or angst, some tears and a lot of little bitch calling. LOVE YOU ALL

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 302,625 others

ynpiastri highlight of imola: LEO LECLERC

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

view all 3,998 comments

username1 OMG LEO IS SO CUTE

username2 MISS THE SECOND PICTURE ???

username3 PIASTRI SIS HAS A BF?? OMG

alexandrasaintmleux My boy 😍😍

username4 what is carlos doing in the likes i thought they hated each other 😭

username5 HOW DOES OSCAR FEEL ABOUT HER BF I NEED TO KNOW

username6 not tagging the person in the second pic she’s such a piastri

landonorris You’re not slick at all my friend

↳ ynpiastri i literally never asked for your opinion

↳ username1 HEEELP

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If someone had told you a year ago that you would be making out with Carlos Sainz in his driver's room hours before the Monaco Grand Prix, you would've laughed in their faces and told them they were completely out of their mind.

Because why would you ever think of even breathing near the little bitch, right?

And yet, there you were. Your bodies pressed together as his lips explored your neck.

"Carlos," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "we shouldn't... someone could come in..."

He lifted his head, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. "Do you want me to stop, hermosa?"

"No," you admitted, "I don't want you to stop."

A satisfied smile played on his lips before he pressed them against yours again. His hands caressed your hips, pulling you even closer.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips.

You couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual, you little bitch."

He chuckled softly before speaking, "And to think that you hated me."

"I still do," you replied, but your tone lacked conviction. "It's just… I hate you a little less when you do that."

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shiver.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, his hot breath against your skin. "And this?"

You let out a small moan, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders. "Maybe I hate you even less now."

He laughed softly, his hands sliding under your t-shirt. "You definitely don't hate me."

Almost a month had passed since that night in Carlos' car, and things between you two were amazing. You hadn't put a label on what you were yet, but you felt happier than ever.

You found yourselves seeking each other out more and more. But it wasn't just about the physical attraction or the tension of your bickering anymore. You discovered a side of Carlos you'd never seen before – his warmth, his humor, his vulnerability.

And you finally let your guard down and let him see that part of you, too.

The sarcastic remarks and playful insults were still there, but now they were tinged with affection rather than malice. Your friends had started to notice the change in your dynamic, especially Lando, who couldn't quite hide his knowing smirk whenever he saw you two together.

However, you decided to play it cool, not letting your friends know that there was something more between you and Carlos. They might be able to tell by now, but you still didn't want to admit it to them.

Which lead to secret rendezvous in hidden corners of the paddock become frequent occurrences. Like right now.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," you said as his lips still lingered on your neck and his hands roamed underneath your shirt, "I should go, someone's probably coming to get you shortly."

Carlos let out a soft groan of but nodded, slowly pulling away from you.

"You're right," he admitted, his hands reluctantly leaving your skin. "I wish we could stay like this, though. "

"I know," you smiled, reaching up to smooth his tousled hair. "But we can't risk getting caught, especially not today."

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tonight, then? After the race?"

"Assuming you don't crash into a wall, sure," you teased.

"Such faith in me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll show you, hermosa. Watch me on that podium."

You were about to retort when a sharp knock on the door made you both freeze.

"Carlos? Five minutes until the briefing," came a voice from outside.

"Coming!" Carlos called back, "Looks like our time's up."

"I'll sneak out after you. Good luck out there, little bitch," you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Gracias, mi amor," he murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally.

You paused for a moment, surprised by the warm feeling that spread through your chest at his words. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a final kiss on your lips, he was out of the room.

Your heart was pounding as you tried to casually make your way out of Carlos' room. You were so focused on appearing nonchalant that you almost walked right into Charles.

"YN?" he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and a knowing smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What are you doing here?"

You felt your cheeks flush as you scrambled for an explanation. "Oh, Charles! Hi! I was just… uh… coming to wish you good luck on the race."

"In Carlos' room?" his smirk widened.

Your heart sank. Of course he'd noticed where you'd come from. You tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "No, no… I just got a bit turned around. All these corridors look the same, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Charles said, clearly not buying it for a second. "Well, thanks for the good luck wishes. Though I'm not sure how sincere they are if you're sneaking out of my teammate's room."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the knowing look in Charles' eyes made you realize it was pointless. He'd figured it out.

You were surprised Alex haven't told him already, anyway.

"Relax, YN. Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink. "Though you might want to fix your hair before you see your brother. It's a bit… disheveled."

You groaned, quickly running your fingers through your hair as Charles walked away, still chuckling. You tried to make the flush on your cheeks go away as you reached McLaren hospitality.

Carlos Sainz was driving you crazy in the best possible way.

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ynpiastri LECLERCCCCCC FINALLY WON AND PERFECT PODIUM TYSM MONACO 😩😩😭

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

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username1 I NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE MONACO GP

username2 her friendship with charles is so underrated love them

landonorris I wish my best friend celebrated my podiums like that

↳ ynpiastri i wish my best friend got more podiums to celebrate

↳ username1 HELPPP 😭

username3 UM HELLO??? posted sainz, TAGGED HIM, said it’s a perfect podium and she’s not coming for his neck for the touch with oscar on track that made the race re start ????? WHAT IS GOING ON

↳ username2 OH I SEE

charles_leclerc Thank you for coming to Ferrari just to wish me good luck and not anything else, that was definitely what made me win 😉

↳ ynpiastri stfu

↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

↳ oscarpiastri I’m really confused right now

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 BITCH WTF

↳ username2 ENEMIES TO LOVERS ???

TWITTER

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The party at Jimmy'z was in full swing, the air electric with the excitement of Charles' Grand Prix victory. The club was packed with F1 drivers, team personnel, and celebrities, all riding the high of the race day adrenaline.

You stood near the bar, your fourth glass of champagne in hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The room spun slightly as you looked around, your gaze inevitably drawn to Carlos. He was across the room, laughing with Pierre and Charles, but his eyes kept finding you in the crowd.

Every time your eyes met, you felt a jolt of electricity. The memory of his touch from earlier in the day lingered on your skin, making you crave more. You watched as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.

"Enjoying the party, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close.

You shivered at his proximity, the scent of his cologne making your head spin even more. "It's alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Could be better though."

Carlos's eyes darkened at your words. He glanced around quickly before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Meet me outside in five minutes."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Your heart raced as you waited, trying not to watch the clock too obviously. When five minutes had passed, you made your way outside, your steps slightly unsteady.

The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy club. You spotted Carlos in one of the alleyways behind Jimmy'z. He turned as you approached, a smile spreading across his face.

"Remember the last time we were here?" he asked, pulling you close.

You giggled, the alcohol making you bold. "Yeah, when you kissed me unprovoked."

"Unprovoked?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on your waist. "I was being provoked by how insanely gorgeous you looked. Still do, by the way," he leaned even closer. "And if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it a lot."

"Maybe I did," you giggled, drunkenness clear in your every move. "Should we do it again?"

Without overthinking, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a bold, impulsive kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then you felt Carlos smile against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you felt Carlos's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool night air, sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands moved up to tangle in his hair, earning a low groan from him that you felt more than heard.

Breaking apart for air, Carlos rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in quick pants. "I'm crazy about you, Piastri," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching.

"You freaking muppets! I knew it!"

You broke apart, startled, to see Lando standing there, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Lando!" you whined, burying your face in Carlos's chest. "Leave us alone!"

Carlos chuckled, his arms still around you. "How long have you known, cabron?"

"Please, you two are about as subtle as a neon sign," Lando smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so busted."

"Lando, please," Carlos started, but you cut him off.

"Go away, Lando!" you whined, clinging to Carlos. "We're busy."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But we're definitely talking about this later!"

As Lando walked away, you turned back to Carlos, wrapping your arms around his neck, suddenly feeling very tired and more than a little drunk. "Take me home?" you asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Of course, mi amor," Carlos nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll drive you to Oscar's."

"Nooo," you whined, clinging to him. "I want to stay with you tonight. Please?"

Carlos hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. "YN, you're pretty drunk. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

You nodded vigorously, then immediately regretted it as the world spun. "I'm sure. I just want to be with you. Please?"

"Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you back to my place," he said gently, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You beamed at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, little bitch."

The night might have been a blur, but one thing was crystal clear—you were falling hard for Carlos Sainz, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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ynpiastri have you guys ever tried hangover pancakes ?

view all 4,173 comments

username1 OMG???

username2 SHE DOES HAVE A BF

lilyzneimer 👀👀👀

username3 BITCH THATS CARLOS SAINZ

↳ username1 nah there’s no way, they hate each other

charles_leclerc I did before you did

↳ ynpiastri don’t be jealous charlie 😚

landonorris BUSTED BUSTED

↳ ynpiastri bro get over it

↳ landonorris never

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username4 people saying this is carlos sainz, do you guys not know their history or something

↳ username5 yeah but enemies to lovers is a real thing

oscarpiastri 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

↳ ynpiastri ily can you pick me up?

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You could practically hear your friend's and brother's laugh through the phone as you muted the conversation. Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and headed out to meet Carlos.

He was waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamppost with casual smile. The sight of him - dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze - made your heart skip a beat.

"There you are," he said, his face lighting up as you approached. "Ready to go?"

Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your arms his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. Carlos' eyes widened but he quickly melted into it, his arms wrapping around your waist. When you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with a mix of delight and wonder.

"Well," he said, a bit breathlessly, "that's quite a hello. What was that for?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

"No, hermosa," he said, pulling you closer. "You never need a reason. You're allowed to kiss me whenever you want."

With a playful glint in your eye. You pulled him in and kissed him again.

God you were down bad, it's embarrassing.

"Dios mio," he murmured as you pulled away, "I could get used to this."

You laughed, linking your arm with his as you started walking. "Don't get too comfortable, little bitch. I still have a reputation to maintain."

Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Of course, Piastri. Whatever you say."

As you strolled through the streets of Montreal, you found yourself initiating more little touches - a squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him as you walked. Each time, you noticed how Carlos's face would light up, how he'd pull you a little closer.

It occurred to you that maybe he'd been holding back, worried about pushing you too far or too fast.

For the past month, you'd been letting your guard down, bit by bit. Carlos had somehow managed to sneak past your defenses with his charm and the warmth that had been hidden beneath all that banter. You'd always prided yourself on being independent, on not letting anyone get too close. But with Carlos, things felt different, at least now they did.

Still, there were moments when doubt crept in, when old insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if this was all just a fling for him? What if you were reading too much into the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to treasure every kiss and touch? What if you eventually went back to your bitterness towards each other?

You hadn't put a label on whatever this was between you, and the ambiguity sometimes left you feeling unsteady, as if you were walking on a tightrope without a safety net.

But bringing it up to him felt intimidating.

"Whats on your mind?" Carlos asked once he noticed that you went quiet and your eyes were wandering.

You considered bringing up the subject, but decided to ignore the thought for now.

"Nothing," you replied with a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking about how Lando is going to have our heads for not wanting to hang out with him."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Lando will survive. He can’t have us all to himself all the time."

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TWITTER

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As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend approached, you found yourself in Barcelona, exploring the city with Carlos in a way you never imagined possible.

The man who once irritated you beyond belief was now showing you his childhood spots, sharing stories of his youth with a boyish enthusiasm that made your heart flutter.

When you told Oscar about your plans to head to Barcelona early with Carlos, you braced yourself for the teasing that was sure to follow.

Your brother didn't disappoint, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he launched into a series of jokes about you "fraternizing with the enemy" and how you'd "finally succumbed to Sainz's charms." But beneath the banter, you could see the genuine happiness in Oscar's eyes.

After the laughter died down, he pulled you into a hug and told you he was glad you'd found someone who made you happy, even if it was "that Spanish menace."

He was the best brother you could've asked for.

"And this," Carlos said, gesturing to a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a narrow street, "is where you'll find the best paella in all of Barcelona. Maybe even in all of Spain."

"That's a bold claim, Sainz," you raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You better not be overselling it."

"Would I ever lie to you, Piastri?"

"Yes, absolutely," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words.

As you sat down to eat, the aroma of saffron and seafood filled the air. Carlos watched expectantly as you took your first bite, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight at the flavors.

"Okay, I'll admit it," you said, opening your eyes to see his triumphant smile. "This might actually be the best paella I've ever had."

"I told you!" he exclaimed, looking far too pleased with himself. "Never doubt a Spaniard when it comes to paella."

"Alright, you win this round," you rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

As you continued to enjoy the meal, a comfortable silence settled between you and Carlos. It was in these quiet moments that you found yourself marveling at how far you'd come - from barely tolerating each other to... whatever this was now.

"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, "We've talked a lot about my childhood here in Spain, but I realize I don't know much about your early years in Australia."

You looked up from your plate, a bit surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, well, what do you want to know?"

Carlos leaned forward, his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity in his warm brown eyes. "Everything. What was it like growing up there? What did little YN enjoy back then?”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's question. Your mind immediately went to your childhood memories with Oscar, and you found yourself launching into a familiar narrative.

"Well, growing up in Australia was quite an adventure, especially with Oscar around," you began, a fond smile playing on your lips, “Oscar's always been obsessed with anything that has wheels. Even as a toddler, he'd zoom around the house with his toy cars, making engine noises..."

As you launched into the story of Oscar's journey from go-karts to Formula 1, you found yourself getting carried away with the memories. You talked about the early morning drives to races, the smell of petrol and rubber that became a constant in your life, the way your parents juggled work and Oscar's growing career.

"...and then there was this one time, Oscar was about 14, and he'd just won a major championship. The interviewer asked him who his biggest inspiration was, and do you know what he said?" You paused, smiling at the memory.

Carlos shook his head, completely engrossed in your story.

"He said it was me. Can you believe that? His older sister who couldn't tell a thing about cars. I think I cried for an hour after that interview."

As you finished your tale, you noticed Carlos watching you with an unreadable expression. "What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Carlos smiled softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.

"Hermosa," he said gently, "I asked about your childhood, and you've told me all about Oscar's racing career."

You blinked, realizing he was right. "Oh, I... I guess I got carried away. Sorry about that."

"No, no," Carlos squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I love hearing about Oscar, truly. But I want to know about you. What did you like growing up? What were your passions, your dreams?"

You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had automatically steered the conversation towards Oscar, as you had done countless times before when asked about your childhood. The fact that Carlos had redirected the focus back to you left you momentarily speechless.

"I... wow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

"Really? But surely people must have been interested in your childhood too?"

You shrugged, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Not really. I mean, Oscar was always the star, you know? My pride and joy, the racing prodigy. People were always more interested in his story."

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. "Well, I'm interested in your story. Tell me about little YN Piastri, not just Oscar's sister."

You took a deep breath, feeling a lot of emotions you couldn't quite name. Carlos's genuine interest in your personal story touched something deep within you, a part of yourself you'd almost forgotten existed.

"Actually," you began, your voice soft as you delved into long-buried memories, "I was always drawn to art. Not just painting or drawing, but all forms of visual expression. I remember spending hours in our backyard, arranging leaves and flowers into patterns, or using chalk to create massive, colorful murals on our driveway."

"That sounds beautiful. Did you take classes?" Carlos leaned in, his eyes bright with interest.

"Not really. I wasn't great in school, to be honest. Sitting still, focusing on textbooks - it just wasn't my strong suit. But give me a blank canvas or a lump of clay, and I could lose myself for hours."

"So why didn't you pursue it?" Carlos asked gently.

You paused, considering Carlos's question. It was something you'd never really articulated before, even to yourself.

"I guess... I never saw it as something to pursue," you said slowly. "My focus was always on Oscar. From the moment he started showing promise in racing, I just naturally fell into the role of his protector, his support system."

You smiled softly, remembering those early days. "Oscar was so talented, but he was also just a kid with big dreams and even bigger pressures. I felt like it was my job to shield him from the worst of it, to be his safe haven. It wasn't a sacrifice, not really. It was a choice I made out of love. Oscar's success, his happiness - that became my passion."

"But what about your art?" Carlos pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. "It just… faded into the background, I guess. There were always races to attend, equipment to pack. My sketchbooks got buried under stacks of racing magazines. My easel gathered dust in the corner of my room."

Carlos reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "YN , that's… that's incredibly selfless of you. But don't you miss it?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you at Carlos's question, his gentle touch grounding you.

"I do," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting his. "I've been Oscar's sister, his supporter, for so long. I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."

"Oh, mi amor," Carlos said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You're so much more than just Oscar's sister. You're YN - a woman with a beautiful heart and a determinate mind. Your love for Oscar is admirable, but it doesn't have to be the only thing that defines you," he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I'm honored to be close to that woman. The one who sees beauty in leaves and flowers, who can lose herself in creating art, even when she forgets about it."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But old habits die hard, and you found yourself deflecting with humor. "Wow, Sainz," you said, a teasing glint in your eye. "Are you always this sappy, or am I just special?"

Carlos's face broke into a grin, recognizing your playful tone. "Only for you, Piastri. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Your reputation as what? A little bitch?"

Carlos' face broke into a wide grin, "One day you'll stop calling me that."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation dissolving into familiar banter. "Keep telling yourself that, Sainz."

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ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶

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username1 OH

username2 WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG

alexandrasaintmleux 👀❤️

username3 SHE THINKS SHES SLICK CROPPING CARLOS’ EYES GIRL WE CAN TELL ITS HIM

lilyzneimer 🥹

username4 the piastri - sainz beef turning into piastri - sainz romance wasn’t on my bingo card

nicolepiastri You failed Spanish like three times in high school…

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ oscarpiastri 😂😂😂😂😂😂

↳ username2 mama piastri is too iconic for constantly dragging her kids

↳ ynpiastri 😩

landonorris I SEE HOW IT IS NOW

↳ username1 help lando’s dreams came true

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Saturday arrived in Barcelona, which meant it was time for qualifying.

After your quick rendezvous with Carlos in his motorhome - something that was routine by now- you made your way towards the paddock club to meet Alex and Kika. Your mind was still buzzing from Carlos' touch, your skin tingling where his lips had been just moments ago.

Your hair was slightly tousled, a result of Carlos' fingers running through it. You could still feel the ghost of his kisses on your neck, and the memory sent a shiver down your spine. Pausing briefly, you tried to smooth down your clothes and fix your appearance in the reflection of a nearby trailer. The last thing you needed was more knowing looks from your friends, you had enough when Lando teasing you and Carlos whenever he had the chance.

Approaching the paddock club, you spotted Alex and Kika waiting for you near the entrance.

"Hey, there you are!" Alex called out as you neared. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "In a place I've been coming to for years? Not likely."

The three of you sat down at a nearby table and ordered something to drink. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from race predictions to the latest paddock gossip.

"So," Kika said, leaning forward towards you, "how are things going with Carlos? You two seem pretty cozy lately."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, the warmth spreading to your cheeks. You took a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment, but you couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Things are good. Really good, actually."

"But…?" Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face.

"But nothing," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're just enjoying each other's company."

Kika's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet? I thought for sure you two would be official by now."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, bringing all your insecurities rushing to the surface. The ones you've tried to push away since this thing with Carlos began.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your friends knew you too well. The smile you'd been wearing moments ago faltered, and you could feel the doubt creeping in.

"Hey," Alex said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. Carlos is crazy about you, anyone can see that. Every relationship moves at its own pace."

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, of course. We're just taking things slow, that's all."

But as the conversation moved on to other topics, you couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root in your mind. You found yourself only half-listening, your thoughts a swirling mess of questions and insecurities.

Why hadn't Carlos made things official? Was he keeping his options open? Were you still just his rival's sister who picked fights with him in his eyes? The rational part of your brain tried to argue that labels didn't matter, that what you and Carlos had was special regardless of what you called it. But the insecure part wouldn't be silenced so easily.

As you sat there, surrounded by the chatter of your friends and the energy of the circuit, you felt a strange sense of isolation creep over you. You were in Carlos' home city, surrounded by his world, and yet you'd never felt more unsure of your place in it.

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"Finally," Carlos breathed, as he opened the door. Before you could utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you. In one fluid motion, he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours.

"Carlos, what-" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. "Sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"You saw me right after the race, you needy little bitch."

Carlos' hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. "That was hours ago. Far too long."

"Seriously?" you teased, though you couldn't keep the affection out of your voice. "You're ridiculous, Sainz."

"Maybe," he conceded, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. "But you like it."

Carlos began to trail kisses down your neck, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. You laughed as he pulled you towards the bed, your fingers intertwining with his.

"Slow down, hotshot. The bed's not going anywhere."

"But my patience might," he turned to face you, "Do you know how hard it was to focus on the post-race interviews when all I could think about was getting you alone?"

"Oh, poor baby," you teased gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "It must have been tough, going over the race data after a P6 finish."

Carlos groaned dramatically, pulling you closer. "Torture, hermosa. Absolute torture."

Carlos guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the mattress, quickly following to hover above you. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and passionate, as his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt.

You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring the firm planes of his back. Carlos broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you gasp.

"You're really needy today, aren't you?" you said, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos' lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm always needy when it comes to my girl," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more.

Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sensation of his warm breath on your skin, but from his words. My girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, stirring up the doubts you'd been trying to push away.

Suddenly, Kika's voice from your earlier conversation rang in your ears. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"

The warmth that had been building in your chest turned cold as uncertainty crept in. If you were his girl, then why hadn't he made it official?

Carlos must have sensed your sudden tension because he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "YN? What's wrong?"

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the doubts. "Nothing," you said, your voice not quite as steady as you'd hoped.

He studied your face for a moment, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure? We can stop if you're not feeling it."

"No, no," you assured him quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I'm fine. Just… got distracted for a second."

Carlos didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?"

You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you pushed your concerns to the back of your mind.

A few moments later, you laid tangled beneath the covers, your head resting on Carlos' chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. The afterglow should have been blissful, but your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts you couldn't quiet.

Carlos must have sensed your unease because he shifted slightly, tilting his head to look at you. "YN? What's wrong, hermosa? You seem… distant. Are you not feeling well?"

You sighed, debating whether to voice your concerns. "It's nothing, really. I just…" you trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

You bit your lip, your heart racing. "It's just… when you called me 'your girl' earlier… I don't know. It made me think."

"Think about what?" Carlos' brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, you didn't," you assured him quickly. "It's more about… us, I guess. About what we are. What this is between us."

"YN," he said, his voice low and intense. "I thought I've been clear about how I feel about you. I've been yours since that kiss at Jimmy'z last year. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest."

His words should have reassured you, but they only made your anxiety spike. You sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet around you.

You'd wanted clarity, but now that you had it, you didn't know how to handle it.

"But what does that mean, Carlos?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "We've been doing... whatever this is for months now, but we've never really talked about it. We haven't put a label on it."

Carlos sat up too, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I didn't think we needed to. I thought it was obvious how I felt about you."

"Obvious?" you repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "How is it obvious when we've never actually discussed what we are to each other?"

Carlos reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the bed. You began pacing, your mind racing.

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice soft. "Come back to bed. Let's talk about this."

You shook your head, reaching for your clothes. "I can't... I need to think. I need some space."

As you hurriedly dressed, Carlos got out of bed, pulling on his boxers. "Are you really running away, Piastri?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice now. "I thought we were past this. That you weren't that arrogant girl who was ready to pick up pointless fights with me anymore."

His words stung, cutting deeper than you thought possible. It felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling. The accusation brought back all the insecurities you'd been trying to suppress, all the doubts about whether you deserved this happiness with Carlos. It was as if he'd reached into your chest and squeezed your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

You whirled to face him, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Arrogant? Is that what you think of me?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I just... I thought we'd moved past the point where you'd run away instead of talking to me."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to run if you'd actually communicate with me," you shot back.

"Communicate?" Carlos scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one who's been keeping me at arm's length this whole time!"

The accusation hit you like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, YN," Carlos said, his voice rising. "Every time things get too real, you pull away. You make a joke, you change the subject. It's like you're afraid of admitting that this might actually mean something."

"That's not fair," you protested, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I've been here! But how am I supposed to be sure that this isn't just a fling for you? Or some twisted way to mess with Oscar?"

"Oscar?" Carlos looked you with wide eyes, shaking his head, "What does Oscar have to do with anything? This is about us, YN. You and me."

"Is it?" you challenged, your voice breaking. "Because sometimes I don't even know what 'us' means. Are we together? Are we just having fun? How am I supposed to know?"

Carlos' expression softened slightly, but his frustration was still evident. "You're not being fair, Piastri. I've always been the one to show my desire to be with you. I did it that night after Lando's party, remember? But you're the one who runs away when things get real."

His words hit home, and you felt a fresh wave of guilt and confusion wash over you.

"I don't... I don't run away," you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Don't you?" Carlos asked, his voice softening. "Every time I try to take a step forward, you take three steps back. I'm not the one who's afraid of labels here."

Silence lingered in the air, you felt physically sick. Carlos' words were true, every single one of them, deep down you knew it. As much as you tried to let your guard down with him, your self defense mechanisms always came through.

"When are you going to stop sabotaging your own happiness for other people?" Carlos asked after another minute of silence. "This isn't about Oscar, or anyone else. It's about you being too scared to admit that you might actually care about me."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, once again. "Scared? You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Carlos! Terrified of getting hurt, of ruining everything. And you're not exactly making it easy.""

"How am I not making it easy?" Carlos demanded, his voice rising. "I've been nothing but clear about my feelings for you. Every time I get close, you shut down!" Carlos shouted, his frustration boiling over. "It's like you're allergic to any kind of emotional intimacy!"

"Oh, that's something coming from you," you spat back. "Mr. 'I-can-charm-anyone-with-a-smile'. How do I know this isn't just another conquest for you?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the hurt flash across Carlos' face, quickly replaced by anger.

"A conquest?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything I've shared with you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," you said, your voice breaking. "This whole thing is just... it's too much. I can't do this."

You turned towards the door, reaching for the handle. Carlos stepped forward, his anger dissipating, replaced by desperation.

"YN, wait," he pleaded. "Please, don't go. Not like this. Let's talk, mi amor. Don't run from me."

The term of endearment, spoken so softly, almost broke your resolve. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to flee and the desire to fall into his arms.

"I... I can't, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I need some time. Some space to think."

"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out together. Just... stay. Please."

You turned to look at him one last time, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you managed to say. "I'll... I'll call you later."

And with that, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving Carlos standing alone in his room.

You immediately felt like you made a huge mistake.

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You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the TV screen. The sound was muted, the flickering images providing a distraction you desperately needed but couldn't quite focus on. Your phone lay face down on the coffee table, ignored despite the occasional vibration of incoming messages.

Your mind wandered to Carlos, it always did.

The memory of your argument played on repeat in your head, each hurtful word a fresh wound. You couldn't shake the image of his face - the hurt, the anger, the desperation in his eyes as you walked out the door. It haunted you.

Everything that had happened that night felt like a blur. The passion of your initial encounter, the tenderness of his touch, the way he called you "his girl" - it all seemed so perfect until your insecurities came crashing in. You wondered if you had overreacted, if you had let your fears get the best of you.

Carlos had been right about one thing - you did have a tendency to run when things got too real. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But in doing so, were you sabotaging your own happiness, like he said?

The only thing you were sure about was that it wasn't physical attraction or the remaining tension of your bickering from last year anymore, Carlos saw you in a way no one else did, and that terrified you as much as it thrilled you.

Your conversation with Lando from earlier that day came back to you. You had called him in a moment of panic, spilling out all your fears and doubts. Lando, ever the unusual voice of reason, had listened patiently.

"YN," he had said, his voice gentle but firm, "you can't let your insecurities ruin what you and Carlos could have. I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this with anyone else. He really cares about you."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" you had asked, your voice small. "What if we end up hating each other again?"

Lando had chuckled at that. "You two are so stubborn, you know that? You're both so afraid of letting your guard down that you're pushing each other away. Someone needs to take the first step, YN. And from what Carlos has told me, he's been trying. Maybe it's your turn."

His words echoed in your mind now, mixing with the memory of Carlos' plea for you to stay.

You made a huge mistake by walking away that night, and now you didn't know how to fix it.

A soft knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, not wanting to face anyone, but another, more insistent knock followed.

"YN? It's me, open up," Oscar's voice called from the other side.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and shuffled to the door. When you opened it, your brother's concerned face greeted you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Oscar walked in, his gaze taking in the dim lighting and the general disarray of your usually tidy living room. He turned to face you, worry etched across his features.

"What's going on, sis? I heard you're not going to Austria," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "And it looks like you haven't slept in days."

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I just need a break," you mumbled, moving back to the couch and curling up in your previous position.

Oscar followed, sitting down beside you.

He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and familiar. "YN, talk to me. What's really going on? Is this about Carlos?"

At the mention of Carlos' name, you felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Oscar noticed your reaction and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Oh, sis," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "What happened?"

You buried your face in your brother's shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. Between sobs, you started to explain everything that had happened in Barcelona - the conversation with Kika and Alex, your growing insecurities, the night in Carlos's hotel room, your argument. As you spoke, you could feel the weight of the past week pressing down on you, the emotions you'd been bottling up threatening to spill over.

"…and now, I don't know what to do," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."

"YN, listen to me. You haven't ruined anything," Oscar said, "Relationships are complicated, and misunderstandings happen. But from what you've told me and what I've seen, it sounds like Carlos cares about you a lot. And I think you care about him too, more than you're willing to admit to yourself."

"But what if it all goes wrong?" you wiped your eyes, sniffling. "What if we end up hating each other even more than we did before? What if... what if I'm not enough for him?"

Oscar shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You've always been your own worst enemy, you know that?" you almost rolled your eyes at he familiar statement. "Remember when I left for boarding school? You were so upset, convinced that I was leaving you behind forever. You didn't want to say goodbye, afraid it would hurt too much."

The memory flooded back, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Yeah, I remember," you said softly.

"But do you remember what happened after?" Oscar prompted.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We ended up talking more than ever. Phone calls, letters, video chats…"

"Exactly," Oscar said, squeezing your hand. "You were so scared of losing me that you almost pushed me away. But when you finally opened up, our relationship grew stronger than ever."

"That's different, Oscar. This is… it's Carlos. It's complicated."

"Is it?" Oscar challenged. "Or are you just making it complicated because you're scared? I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's not just some leftover tension from your rivalry. It's real."

You sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "But what if-"

"No more 'what ifs'," Oscar interrupted. "You can't live your life afraid of what might happen. You're missing out on what's right in front of you," you were quiet for a moment, considering his words until he spoke again, "I know you’ve held back a lot in your life—for me, for our family—but I don’t want you holding back when it comes to Carlos.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Oscar hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I mean… I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for the people you love. You’ve put so much of your own life on hold to support me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But when it comes to Carlos—this thing between you—it’s different. I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed that for my sake.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you realized how much Oscar understood you, maybe even more than you realized. “Oscar, I’m not holding back for you, I—”

“I know you’re not doing it consciously," he interrupted gently, "But I can see it. You’re worried about how our dynamic will change, or maybe how I’ll react. But, YN, I want you to be happy. If being with Carlos makes you happy, then I want you to go for it. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

You sat there, absorbing what Oscar said. His words made you feel a lot of different things all at once. You realized he was right - you had been holding back, not just with Carlos, but in many parts of your life. This scared you, but also made you feel free.

It was time to put yourself first.

"I hate that you're always so wise, you're my little brother, I'm supposed to be the one giving you advice, not the other way around."

"To be fair, I was thrown into the motorsport world at an early age, you experience all kinds of drama there," he shrugged, making both of you laugh, "Now, are you going to talk to him, or do I need to drag you to Austria myself? Or even Madrid?"

You let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in days. "I guess I'll talk to him. But I still don't feel like going to Austria, I need some time to gather my thoughts."

"Fair enough," Oscar nodded, "Just don't take too long, okay? You both deserve to be happy. And Lando is freaking out because you're ruining his dreams again."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 397,538 others

ynpiastri i almost forgot how it felt to watch a race on tv. congratulations boys 🥳 and ty to my queen @carmenmmundt for the last picture

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username1 QUEEN WE MISS YOU WHAT HAPPENED

username2 the paddock is not the same without the most iconic piastri

lilyzneimer 🤍

carmenmmundt 😚😚

username3 im pretty sure this is the first time she’s not at a race since oscar’s f2 days

username4 THE 55 HELLO?????

username5 WHATS THEIR SHIP NAME?? PAINZ???

username6 she’s down bad for the smooth operator this is what i call enemies to lovers

landonorris You seem happy for my DNF…

↳ ynpiastri stfu

carlossainz55 ❤️

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You paced nervously in your apartment, your heart racing as you waited for Carlos to arrive. The soft carpet muffled your footsteps but did nothing to quiet the storm of thoughts in your head. You had rehearsed what you wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, all your carefully prepared words seemed to evaporate.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, then to your phone, checking the time for what felt like the thousandth time. The knock on the door made you jump, your pulse skyrocketing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "It's just Carlos," you told yourself, but that thought brought both comfort and a new wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, you smoothed down your shirt and ran a hand through your hair before opening the door. Carlos stood there, looking tired but as handsome as ever. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it—a nervous habit you'd noticed before.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped aside to let him in, hyper-aware of his presence as he moved past you.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warm as he entered.

You led him to the living room, settling on the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence, the tension palpable. You both opened your mouths to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry—“

"I wanted to—"

You both laughed, some of the tension dissipating. The sound of his laughter, even tinged with nervousness, helped to ease some of your anxiety.

"You go first," Carlos said, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was patient, encouraging, and you drew strength from it.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing he deserved your full honesty. "Carlos, I'm so sorry for running away in Barcelona. It wasn't fair to you, and I've been kicking myself ever since. I… I panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and I just… I couldn't handle it."

He nodded, his expression understanding. He reached out to take your hand, his touch sending a shiver through you. "I appreciate that, YN. Truly. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn't have pushed you or made assumptions about your feelings. I got caught up in the moment and didn't consider how overwhelming it might be for you."

"No, Carlos, you were right," you shook your head, squeezing his hand. "I do run away when things get too real. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to myself either."

You paused, gathering your courage. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Carlos must be able to hear it. "The truth is, I care about you. A lot. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And that terrifies me."

Carlos moved closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost undid you. "Why does it terrify you, mi amor?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at your eyes. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you forced yourself to continue. "Because I'm not used to feeling this vulnerable. I've always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone. It's been my armor, my way of protecting myself. But with you… you see parts of me that I don't show anyone else. You've managed to slip past all my defenses, and it scares me how much I want to let you in completely."

Carlos listened intently, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you spoke. His warmth, his steady presence, made the walls you had built around yourself seem almost unnecessary.

"It's okay to be scared, hermosa. I understand why you feel like you need to protect yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, and I want to be here for you, with you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the vulnerability, a small part of you felt lighter, freer. "I’ve never let anyone get this close before," you admitted. "But I don’t want to keep running, Carlos. I don’t want to keep pushing you away."

Carlos smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I don’t want you to run, either. I want us to be together, whatever comes next. But only if that’s what you want."

You exhaled shakily, emotions swirling inside you like a storm. "It is what I want," you said, your voice firm but laced with emotion. "I want to be with you. I’m tired of being scared of something that could be so good."

A look of pure relief crossed Carlos' face, and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his heart beating steadily under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, answering the unspoken fear that lingered between you both.

Carlos kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, "I promise I'll change, I'll be-"

"Mi amor," Carlos interrupted softly, "I don't want to change you. I fell for you exactly as you are—stubborn, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Those are the qualities that drew me to you in the first place."

You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Even when I was being a pain in your ass?" you asked, a hint of your usual sass creeping into your voice.

"Especially then," he chuckled, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You know, even when we were at each other's throats, I was always drawn to you. I wanted to know you better, to understand what made you such a firecracker."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Really," he confirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Besides, you were infuriatingly attractive when you were angry. The way your eyes would flash, the flush on your cheeks… it took everything in me not to kiss you right then and there sometimes."

You felt a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks at Carlos' words, but you couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips. "Oh, so that's why you were always trying to rile me up, huh? And here I thought you were just being an insufferable little bitch."

"Ah, there's the Piastri I know," Carlos threw his head back in laughter. "I was wondering when your sharp tongue would make an appearance."

"You love it," you teased, feeling more like yourself than you had in days.

"I do," he admitted, his eyes twinkling.

Carlos' gaze dropped to your lips. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't want to. Not anymore.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was still afraid you might run. But as you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

When you finally pulled apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "I meant every word I said," he murmured. "I'm serious about this. I want to make this work."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "I'm serious too, Carlos. It scares me how much I want this, but… I want to be with you."

The smile that broke across Carlos' face was radiant. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

"You're still my little bitch after all," you couldn't help but laugh as you parted.

"When are you going to change that to something more romantic, hmm?" Carlos rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "'Mi amor,' perhaps? Or 'cariño'?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I failed Spanish in high school?" you rolled your eyes back at him. "And I thought you liked it when I called you that. Didn't you say once that it turned you on?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said with a grin. "But how about this—you can call me your 'little bitch' if you want, but I get to call you my girlfriend. Deal?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the word 'girlfriend.' It should have scared you, but instead, it filled you with warmth.

"Deal," you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 402,726 others

ynpiastri fitting 💋

view all 4,688 comments

username1 OMGGGG

username2 ICONIC

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂

username3 WHOS THE BOYFRIENDDDD

logansargeant Is this who I think it is? 👀

↳ ynpiastri little bitches everywhere

username4 THATS CARLOS CONFIRMED

username5 CARLOSYN PAINZ 😩

landonorris BITCH FINALLY

↳ username1 i bet lando manifested this

nicolepiastri We been knew since Singapore 2023, by the way

↳ ynpiastri MUM 😩

↳ username2 I LOVE YOU NICOLE PIASTRI

carlossainz55 ❤️

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The Hungarian Grand Prix had been a whirlwind of emotions. The entire paddock was still buzzing with excitement over Oscar's maiden Formula 1 victory.

Your little brother had driven the race of his life, leading most of the laps to take the checkered flag. The memory of him standing on the top step of the podium, eyes glistening with tears of joy as the Australian national anthem played, was one you'd cherish forever. The pride you felt was indescribable - your baby brother, the kid you'd watched grow up and chase his dreams, was now a Grand Prix winner.

It had been three blissful weeks since you and Carlos had officially become a couple. After your heartfelt conversation at your apartment, you had both taken the time to navigate this new phase of your relationship, and it had been everything you could have hoped for.

Telling your close friends and family was the easy part. Lando practically squealed with delight, Oscar and Carlos had a nice chat, and of course, Nicole Piastri, a fan of dragging her own kids, reminded everyone that you failed Spanish in high school multiple times, so Carlos had to make sure to constantly translate for you. The rest of the paddock had quickly caught on, and soon, Carlos Sainz and the eldest Piastri were the talk of the town.

But you didn't mind the attention. Being with Carlos felt so natural and right.

Now, as you sat in the airport waiting for your delayed flight to Monaco, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Sure, the hours-long delay was less than ideal, but you were surrounded by the people you cared about most, celebrating Oscar's first win with good old fasioned airport McDonalds.

"I can't believe Oscar got his first win," Lando exclaimed, already halfway through a Big Mac. "That's crazy, mate."

"I know, I still can't believe it," Oscar beamed, "It hasn't really sunk in yet."

You reached over to give your brother's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Osc. You deserve it."

"Thanks, sister. Couldn't have done it without your support all these years."

"Oh, come on," you teased, "I didn't drive that car. That was all you out there."

"Yeah, but you've always been there," Oscar insisted, his voice softening. "Through the karting days, the junior formulas, all of it. It means a lot."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by your brother's words. You pulled Oscar into a tight hug, blinking back tears of pride and joy. "You're my little brother, Osc. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."

Oscar returned the embrace, squeezing you tightly. "I know, YN. And I couldn't ask for a better cheerleader."

When you finally pulled apart, you noticed the others watching with fond smiles.

Across the lounge, Carlos was engaged in an animated conversation with Lando, their voices a low hum in the background. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful movement of his hands as he gesticulated. Even in casual clothes, hair slightly mussed from the long day, he took your breath away.

As if sensing your gaze, Carlos looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The soft smile that spread across his face sent a flutter through your chest. You patted the empty spot next to you on the couch, a silent invitation. He nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Lando, which couldn't help but tease about the two of you being codependent now.

"Missing me already, mi amor?" Carlos teased as he approached.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Don't flatter yourself, Sainz. I just didn't want you to strain your neck looking over here every five seconds."

Carlos chuckled as he sat down next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Ah, but how can I resist when the view is so beautiful?"

You snuggled into his side, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "Smooth talker," you murmured, but there was no bite to your words.

"Only for you, hermosa," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun began to set through the large windows. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by laughter from where Oscar, Alex, and Lando were playing some sort of card game.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Carlos softly, noticing the slight droop to his shoulders.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tired," he admitted. "It's been a long few weeks. But happy," he added, squeezing you gently. "Very happy."

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad. You drove amazingly this weekend, you know."

"Thank you," Carlos leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "It means a lot coming from you."

Carlos let out a contented sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. "I can't wait for the summer break, you know?" he murmured. "Just you and me, in Mallorca. No distractions, no obligations..." he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, his gaze holding yours. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Getting you all to myself, finally."

"That sounds perfect," you sighed happily. "Though I hope your plans also include plenty of time for just lounging around and doing absolutely nothing."

"Of course, whatever you want, hermosa."

"Whatever I want, huh?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. "That's a dangerous offer, Sainz."

"I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, Piastri," he grinned, leaning in closer.

You were about to reply when a french fry hit you squarely on the forehead. You turned to see Oscar looking at you with mock disgust.

"Seriously, you two? We're right here," he groaned.

"Oh, like you and Lily aren't just as bad," you retorted, throwing the fry back at him.

Oscar caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a grin. "At least we have the decency to be gross in private."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to see you all lovey-dovey," Lando chimed in.

"Shut up, Lando," you rolled your eyes, "I seem to recall you being the one who was pushing for this whole thing in the first place."

"Yeah, well," Lando shrugged, "I'm starting to think I preferred it when Carlos thought you were insufferable and you called him a 'little bitch'."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing over at Carlos and pecking his cheek. "Oh, I still do."

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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri 403,664 others

ynpiastri my little brother, the grand prix winner 🥺

oscar, watching you stand on that top step today brought tears to my eyes. i still remember the day you left for boarding school to chase your racing dreams. i felt like i was losing my little brother, and a piece of my heart went with you.

but seeing you now, living your dream and achieving what so many thought impossible, all i can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. you've grown into an incredible man and driver, but you'll always be that kid who used to steal my snacks and beg me to play race cars with him.

your journey hasn't been easy, through every challenge, every setback, you kept pushing. and now, here you are, a grand prix winner, battling with the best (and occasionally a spaniard little bitch 😩)

you've grown so much, but some things never change. like how we're celebrating this monumental victory - stuck in an airport, chowing down on mcdonald's.

i love you so much, little bro ❤️

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris, carlossainz55, landonorris, alex_albon

view all 4,648 comments

username1 im SOBBING this is so beautiful

username2 THE PIASTRI SIBLINGS ARE JUST TOO PURE

mclaren 🧡

nicolepiastri 🥲🥲🥲

username3 AHHH THE PICTURE OF HER AND CARLOS IN THE PLANE I CANT

username4 this is too pure as an eldest daughter im sobbing

username5 PAINZ CONFIRMED

carlossainz55 ❤️

↳ username1 he only comments hearts come on bro

username6 THE LANDOSCAR PIC🥺

oscarpiastri Sis, you've got me tearing up in the middle of this crowded airport. Your support has been the backbone of my journey, and I couldn't have done this without you. You've worn so many hats - cheerleader, mentor, occasional bodyguard (those Twitter wars were something else 😂 but look at you and Carlos now). But most importantly, you've been my rock. When Mum and Dad couldn't be there because of work, you stepped up. You've been my third parent in every way that counts. So yeah, we might be stuck in an airport eating McDonald's right now, but I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else. You're the best sister and 'bonus parent' a guy could ask for.

↳ ynpiastri bitch stop it my therapist has enough issues to deal with (ILYSM)

↳ username1 SHES SO REAL

↳ username2 OSCAR CONFIRMING CARLOS-YN

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TWITTER

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The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples. The water was gently hitting the side of the yacht, making a calming sound. This peaceful feeling matched the quiet mood around you and Carlos.

You were sprawled out on the deck, lounging on plush cushions as the warm Mallorcan breeze caressed your skin. Carlos lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're staring," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Carlos didn't even try to deny it. "How can I not?" he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're breathtaking, mi amor."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, still not entirely used to the way Carlos could make you feel with just a few words. "Flatterer," you teased, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. When he opened them again, the look he gave you was filled with such warmth and adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

"It's not flattery if it's true," Carlos insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Carlos," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. "Yes, hermosa?"

"Kiss me," you demanded softly, tugging him closer.

Carlos was more than happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

"Good. That's the plan," you grinned

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You'll be the death of me, Piastri."

"But what a way to go," you quipped, running your hands down his back.

He chuckled against your skin, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Indeed."

As Carlos lifted his head to look at you again, something caught your eye over his shoulder. Squinting slightly, you realized what it was and couldn't help but let out a small sigh.

"What is it?" Carlos asked, noticing the change in your expression.

"Don't look now, but we've got company," you said, nodding slightly towards the distance. "Paparazzi, about a hundred meters out."

Carlos groaned, dropping his head back to your shoulder. "Can't we have one moment of peace?"

You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Hey, it's okay. We knew this was part of the deal."

"I know. I just… I want to keep you all to myself sometimes."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill through you. "Well," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "if they're going to intrude on our privacy anyway, we might as well give them something to see."

Before Carlos could react, you pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and decidedly more public-friendly than your previous ones. When you pulled back, Carlos looked slightly dazed.

"Dios mio, your family is going to see those," he shook his head, "What will Nicole Piastri think of me? Oscar will run me off the track, too."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, please. My mum adores you, and you know it. As for Oscar, well… he'll just have to get used to it," you shrugged, "He was the one who encouraged this to happen anyway."

Carlos only shook his head with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his skin against yours.

When you finally broke apart, Carlos's eyes were soft, "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion.

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "I failed Spanish, remember?" you teased gently, your heart racing in your chest.

Carlos's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "I think you know what that means," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I love you too, you little bitch."

Carlos let out a dramatic groan, but the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "I should have known the sappiness wouldn't last."

"Hey, you signed up for this," you teased, poking him playfully in the chest. "Might as well accept it."

Pulling you close, Carlos pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Gladly, mi amor. Gladly."

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TWITTER

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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 476,458 others

ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚

tagged: carlossainz55

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username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUCH

alexandrasaintmleux love to see you happy my girl 🥰

lilyzneimer 💓💓

username3 THIS is enemies to lovers

username4 i still can’t believe they’re together 😭 THEY HATED EACH OTHER

georgerussell63 WELL FINALLY

↳ alex_albon For real

↳ username1 THE ENTIRE GRID JUST KNEW

↳ ynpiastri why are all of you so damn nosy

↳ pierregasly Or you and Carlos were too obvious

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂

oscarpiastri Yup, this is weird

↳ username1 OSCARRRR

oscarpiastri However, I’m really happy for you sister ❤️

↳ ynpiastri ily little indirect matchmaker

carlossainz55 You’ll never stop calling me that, won’t you hermosa?

↳ ynpiastri NEVERRR MY LITTLE BITCH FOR LIFE

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[bi-writes]

I’m sooo curious, how did John and his young wife meet if you have an idea?

I read a young price fic where she was his son’s nanny and now I’m curious if you have lore for them too!!!

-anasdump

they are the most obnoxious group of oxygen-stealers you've ever seen, and they're in fucking uniform.

taking up all the bar counter space. hogging the pool tables. throwing the darts so hard, they nearly took out some poor man's eyes. if they laugh and holler and spill one more fucking speck of beer on your leather purse, you're going to wind it up and smack them up the throats with it.

you approach the bar for a refill. you crane your neck as you look for a spot to grab the bartender's attention, but they're all shoving each other and slamming their hands on the wood and getting in the way. you huff, stepping up to a couple of them.

"hey, you need to move. no one can order if you're just gonna take up the whole counter."

the biggest one turns to look at you head-on. you glare a little, motioning with your hand for them to move, but he just leans back against his elbows. he's got the ugliest army haircut, and he wears his dog tags out in front like it's some kind of medal. you doubt he's ever seen anything outside of whatever stupid base he came off of.

"sure, we'll move. but it'll cost ya."

he looks you up and down, and you purse your lips when you meet his eyes.

"no. move over. i'm asking nicely right now."

"oooo," he laughs a little, nudging his friends with his elbows. they laugh, too. "i'm terrified, love."

you decide to just move them yourself. you shove your way between them, but when someone grabs your arm and tugs you backwards, you don't think. you just swing.

your knuckles connect with that asshole's face, and he cries out as he steps backward into his friends.

"don't fucking touch me!"

"you cunt--"

"oh, you did not just fucking call me that, you stupid, brainless piece of shit--!"

"easy," a low voice says behind you. you're almost glad for the interruption. your fist would falter with another punch you think, already bruising around the knuckles.

he's weathered, this new man. you would smell the military on him from a mile away, but he's older in a way that speaks volumes to you. he has the hands of someone that only knows hard labor, and the lines in his face have been warped not by time, but by decisions. he wears a beanie and a scruffy beard, and by the way the other men shuffle in his presence, he must be someone important.

when he steps in front of you, he blocks the view of wandering eyes. you peek around his arm, and every single one of those idiots has their gaze on the floor, and they stand at attention.

"you're an embarrassment to the crown, you lot," he mutters. "supposed to be examples. supposed to enact...some sense of duty in others, and yet all i see are a line of fucking boys that never learned their manners in primary." he laughs, "i mean...to call a lady a cunt?"

you rub your knuckles gently, looking down.

"i expect all of you to report to lieutenant riley at 0600 tomorrow. and your weekend passes are hereby revoked."

the whole pub is a little more relaxed once they're gone. you take a seat at the bar, and the bartender gives you a solemn smile before going to make you another drink.

"i uh..." you stiffen when you hear him behind you. "i want to apologize on behalf of them. tha's no way to treat someone, especially a woman."

"especially a woman," you laugh a little, shaking your head as you pick up the drink set down in front of you. you take a long sip of it, turning to face him. "i can handle myself, thank you very much."

"i can see tha'." he nods to your hand, which looks a little raw. you hide it under the counter, taking another sip of your drink.

"you know, i think you have a lot of other things to worry about," you snap. "like the band of assholes you apparently are in charge of."

"i'm sorry about them," he says again. "you won't see them here or anywhere close to you ever again. tha' i can promise you."

"you listen here--" you turn in your seat to face him, poking his chest with your finger. you try not to think about how your finger doesn't even budge, hitting a thick, pelted chest that has no give. you glare up into those baby blues. they're so bright--gorgeous. your breaths shake, but you steel yourself. he looks anything but afraid of you, no, he looks amused. "you all bring nothing but shit tracking in those boots of yours."

he sniffs, tilting his head to the side. "not a fan of servicemen, are you?"

you laugh, shaking your head.

"i'd spit on you, but even that's too good for you."

he grins. a full-blown smile, and when he leans into your space, you don't move. your finger on his chest flattens, your entire hand pressing there in the middle of his chest.

"i'm john."

you look him up and down. his pretty eyes, the dated but kept beard, the smile lines, the warm and solidness that sits under your hand. he's a teddy bear under that, but you're not fooled. this man isn't like the others--he's wise. experienced. it means he's trigger-happy, and it means he has blood on his hands.

you give him your name anyway, and he repeats it, low enough and close enough that you feel his breath on your face.

"i need another drink," you say, putting a finger on his lips and pushing him backwards. "and you're gonna buy it for me. buy me a few, actually."

john chuckles, taking his jacket off. he drapes it over the back of your chair, and you try to avert your gaze when you see big, burly biceps and coarse hair. his arm stays there, behind you.

"you understand me, john?" you coo, and he smiles big. he nods.

"yes, ma'am."

[shortsweetespresso]

okay, but on a serious note, as someone with a degree in history, this is a terrifying event. not only is this showing that our leaders and former leaders are not safe from an attack, but this attempt also happened against a former president that may will use this to his advantage. this man, a former REALITY TV STAR, knows how to play a crowd. he knows how to put on a show and manipulate people to be on his side. he already has an insane fan base who has ALREADY incited an insurrection attempt on the very government they CLAIM TO LOVE.

history loves a martyr, and a living martyr can make things worse. whether this was real or staged, it will be treated as real by every single news source that matters unless proven otherwise -- which could end up being proven years down the line. the right are already using this as a reason to vote for trump. I can't scroll through my facebook without people in every single group I'm in discussing this. all press is good press, especially to the right wing where they can spread their propaganda.

this night is going to be in history books. unless the American people come together, and EVERYONE who can vote against trump, votes for Biden (god help us), this night may very well be listed in the reasons fascism came to take hold of the United States.

you can read the reasons why World War I and II happened, and you can see the clear picture as all of those reasons are laid out in front of you.

Not to fear monger, but World War III's causes are already being laid out in front of us clearly, unless we can work together to stop it. Ukraine, Palestine, and many other places are already the places of first conflict. take a look around. read the news from all angles.

Vote. VOTE. V O T E. FUCKING VOTE. Biden is the much lesser of two evils, and it literally hurts to say that the president currently funding a Palestinian genocide is the better option, and the fact that I HAVE to vote for him in order to keep trump out of power is breaking me and everything I am inside. biden is funding it -- yet trump said he would help israel "finish the job"

donate to Palestinians. donate to the people of Ukraine. vote democrat in the 2024 election.

I'm sorry that this is not the most eloquently written tumblr essay, but I am terrified.

[hylemorph]

Anna and Friedrich in Nosferatu (2024)

In a previous post I mentioned how important I think Friedrich is in the story as a representation of the patriarchal ideal, and how it/he crumbles when confronted by everything that has been suppressed in Ellen (manifested in the unavoidable, terrifying form of Orlok). I also think he is a mirror to Orlok in some ways: he says twice how he just cannot resist Anna, he subtly frames his desire for her as an unwilling "affliction." He also defiles Anna's body and his sacred marriage vows by engaging in necrophilia, because his appetite for her is so consuming - he can't resist her even when she's not even there anymore. Ellen's necrophilic act with Orlok represents her unification with the parts of herself that are suppressed/rejected by the men in her life, good and bad. It's dark and fucked up but metaphorically transformative, and consent is absolutely central. Friedrich's necrophilic act involves no consent, no Anna, and it lacks any metaphorical power. He didn't accomplish anything, he just succumbed to his own horror and amplified it.

Friedrich's unhealthy approach to his relationship with Anna consumes them both, and I think this theme is especially evident in the way Anna's pregnancy is discussed. Friedrich tells Thomas that they are expecting but doesn't want it mentioned in front of Anna or Ellen, probably because it wasn't supposed to be public yet. In victorian times people would rarely confirm a pregnancy before the woman was "showing" both because it was considered a private matter and because miscarriage was way more common. But Friedrich tells Thomas early anyways, because he is excited and proud, which is understandable but also selfish in this context. Furthermore, Anna says that "little Friedrich" is "very hungry, just like his father" and later on after Orlok has fed on her, she passes it off as feeling drained by the baby. Even though she seems happy and loves her family, she associates pregnancy with being drained.

This alienated way of understanding parenthood is also evident in the way Friedrich and Anna treat their girls (Louise and Clara I think?) They obviously both adore the girls, but they ignore their terror and assume the monster they see in their room is totally unrelated to all the other scary shit going on, because they're just silly little kids imagining things, right? One girl literally says "I can hear him breathing under my neck!" and they beg Anna not to leave them alone at night, but they are just hushed and told that they're totally safe. It's exactly the kind of dismissal Ellen has been getting her whole life, and so it's not surprising that the girls are haunted by Orlok before anyone else. It's not enough to adore little girls, they will never be safe until they are heard and believed.

Anna as a character apart from her role as wife and mother is a bit harder to parse out, but I think she is also a mirror for Ellen. Ellen's spiritual power is the catalyst for everything that happens, and von Franz says that "in heathen times you might have been a Priestess of Isis." Anna's spiritual inclination is less obvious, but it's there: she seriously listens to Ellen and believes that she is perceiving something real, she just assumes it must be God. Later when she lets Ellen stay with her for the night, she says "God is with us Lenny, I know it." On some level Anna is also in touch with that supernatural, suppressed feminine truth, and she seems to see through the patriarchal facade that Friedrich represents to some degree. But ultimately Anna wants to convince herself and Ellen that the night terrors were just caused by Thomas' absence, and that Ellen just needed her husband back and all would be well. When Thomas does return and Ellen has her faculties again, Anna is very eager to put it all behind them; 'no more talk of demons please, let's just focus on Christmas and being a happy family'. Anna's downfall is that she puts all her faith in the Christian patriarchal narrative even when she can clearly see that there's more going on. Her faith in the Christian God contrasts Ellen's "heathen" spirituality - both women have an innate spiritual sense, but one is more willing to make it fit into the values of their society. Ultimately Anna was consumed by the horror of their alienated position in society just like Ellen was, she just died with less agency.