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rosyblooom · 1 year ago

Note

I just finished watching Daisy Jones and the Six and I wanted to ask if you could write a Charles SMAU where his wife passes away from illness and leaves a video behind for him to find happiness. They can have a little child together please. Thank you😊❤️

when i die, i want you to live | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: after battling illness, y/n unexpectedly succumbs to it much sooner than expected, leaving behind her husband and their daughter. 8 months later, charles is not coping very well, so your best friend hands him an envelope addressed to him from you. WARNING(S): mentions of death, sad A/N: ooh i love that show!! anyway, this is my first ever request (!!), so hope it's as u imagined 🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading!! <3

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: I sure hope so!😌 ] [ caption 2: my heart is so full🥹💕 ]

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Today, 27 years ago, is the very special day that brought me my beautiful wife and best friend. Forever grateful for that. Happiest of birthdays to you, Mon cœur ❤️

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username HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N WE LOVE YOU😍

username all time favourite wag ! 🥰

yourusername ❤️❤️

(liked by author)

username ly girl🫶

username oh she won😩

username **they. they're both literally perfect omg username nah u right my bad🫡

scuderiaferrari happy birthday y/n 🥳🥳

username if my man ain't like charles i don't want him

username real

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 263,719 others

yourusername had the loveliest birthday with my dearest people!💕thank you for all the birthday wishes, they've been such a joy! 🥹 here's to another beautiful year, here's to 27🥂

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yourbestfriend ily to the moon and back ❤️❤️

yourusername love u so much🥹

username queen🫶

username 27 and still looks young af iktr! see what happens when u're unproblematic😌

username that's bc 27 IS young lol

charles_leclerc belle👸

yourusername 😘 username you guys are so cute omg username *cries in 29 and single*🤧

username girl drop the link to the dress RIGHT NOW @/yourusername

yourusername it's from my spring collection love! xx username you ate that y/n😌

iamrebeccad you look so pretty 💗

yourusername my girl 🤍

Three weeks later...

tmz_tv

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tmz_tv Tragic news emerged in the early hours of this morning as Y/N L/N-Leclerc, a renowned fashion designer and philanthropist, passed away unexpectedly, just three weeks past her twenty-seventh birthday. Her untimely passing has left her family and friends in shock and disbelief.

In a statement released by her family, it was revealed that Y/N had been battling illness for an undisclosed duration. However, medical professionals had initially estimated a longer prognosis, making her sudden passing even more devastating.

During this profoundly sorrowful time, we extend our heartfelt condolences to Y/N's family.

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username wow and to think she was always so smiley even with all this going on behind the scenes

username a literal ray of sunshine🥹

username I can't imagine how charles feels right now omg, please take care charlie🫶

username this doesn't feel real...

username y/n was always working with charities all across the globe, she was an absolute angel. her impact will live on 💛

username is it just me who's thinking about their little girl in all this?? she must be so heartbroken :(

username I think bc she's so young she probably doesn't even understand what's going on😭💔

username y/n, you were a great addition to the paddock, always smiling and just all around lovely to fans. we won't ever forget you!💕

username sending prayers to the family 🙏

scuderiaferrari

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scuderiaferrari Due to personal matters, Charles Leclerc will not be continuing racing for the remainder of the season. Ollie Bearman, our reserve driver, will take his place instead.

This was not an easy decision, and therefore we ask that you handle this news with respect and sensitivity.

Our thoughts and support are with Charles Leclerc and his family during this challenging time. 🙏❤️

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8 months later...

Charles enters the living room, ensuring the door closes softly behind him to avoid disturbing his little girl. Running his fingers over his beard, he examines the envelope in his hand and sighs. Y/N’s best friend pressed it into his hand at a dinner party the previous evening, insisting he watch it as soon as he finds the time. And here he is now, holding the thin envelope.

If someone had told him when he was younger that he’d get emotional over something as simple as seeing his wife’s handwriting on paper, he would have scoffed in disbelief. Not him, that would have seemed absurd. Yet here he is, feeling a lump form in his throat over mere black ink on paper.

As peculiar as it seems, he brings the envelope to his nose, and memories of Y/N flood his mind. He can almost feel her soothing touch as she works the knots out of his back after a gruelling day of racing. Inhaling, he feels Y/N’s sweet scent—it is as comforting as her smile.

A smile tugs at Charles' lips as he pictures that infectious grin that lit up his wife’s face at the most unexpected moments. It was one of the things he loved most about her—she had a way of bringing brightness to even the darkest of days.

Shaking his head, he snaps out of the trance, shifting deeper into the living room until he sinks into the welcoming embrace of the couch. There, he retrieves the laptop resting on the coffee table, feeling the weight of the moment as he opens the envelope and extracts a flash drive from within. Rolling it between his fingers, he inserts it into the side of his laptop with a determined motion.

Once all is in place, he watches a file labelled “To my dearest Lover, brightest Heart, and deepest Soul” materialise in his list of files. The sight catches him off guard—his throat constricts, making each breath a struggle, and his eyes well up, though he fights against the tears. Not now. He can't afford it. Allowing himself to be consumed by grief would mean losing precious time, time he needs for his daughter waiting in her playroom down the hallway.

He takes a moment to regain composure, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his breath until the tension in his chest begins to ease. With a sharp intake of air, he opens his eyes wide and taps the file, revealing a video. Running his teeth over his lower lip, he hovers the pointer over the play button, then taps the mousepad with a steady hand.

The video opens with Y/N seated on the very same pale couch he’s currently occupying. He places both hands onto the soft sofa, yearning for a connection, a way to feel her, even though he knows he can’t—touching the past is impossible.

Y/N walks toward the camera, readjusting it before taking three steps backward and retaking her seat. Inhaling deeply, she hesitates, her mouth opening, then closing again, like a fish out of water.

“Mon cœur,” Charles whispers, moving the laptop onto the coffee table.

“Hmm,” Y/N drops her hands into her lap and smooths down her flowery dress. She stares directly at the camera, tilting her head sideways with a crooked smile. “I don’t know where to start.”

Her eyes widen. “After all this planning, I still don’t know where to begin.” She lets out a few chuckles and then purses her lips. “Well, I suppose greetings are in order?”

Her expression softens as her brows furrow. “Hello, my darling, my world, my everything.”

“Hey,” Charles whispers, his throat tight with emotion, barely allowing sound to escape.

“Although I'm very happy to see you, if you’re watching this, it means you're not living as I want you to,” Y/N's voice trembles, causing her to pause and swallow. “I know it’s hard, baby. I don’t expect this to be easy on you, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking back at us in sadness, you know?”

Charles leans forward, elbows on his lap, eyes fixed on the screen, his face tinged with a faint shade of red.

“Remember our first date, when we had to cancel our reservations at that restaurant because you felt sick on the way there?” Y/N bursts into laughter but quickly stifles it, her hand covering her mouth.

“No, no,” Charles pleads softly, shaking his head, “please don’t hide your beautiful smile, my love.”

“It’s not like there was anything you could do about being sick, but I remember feeling miffed because I already had a stressful day, so for you to cancel just like that, it irritated me,” she reminisces with a nod. “But you were quite pale, so I wanted to make sure you got home alright. And we walked, barely talked,” she giggles, the joy reaching her eyes, “but then this little kid appeared, his name was…”

“Benny,” they both say simultaneously, a faint smile tugging at one corner of Charles' lips.

"Boy, was he excited to meet you, his idol. It was like seeing a completely different person. You became someone entirely new for this little boy whom you didn’t even know. Nobody forced you to take time out of your day when he came running, his arms wide open," Y/N says, extending her arms along with the words. "You could’ve just walked away. I mean, you had a reason to: you were sick."

Pausing for a moment, Y/N sits up straighter, leaning forward and shaking her head. "But you didn’t. You put on a brave face, and you turned into Benny’s hero and so much more. I think we stood there with his parents for about half an hour, and you didn’t complain once. And that’s when I knew."

Y/N nods, crossing her legs and slinging one hand behind the sofa. "That’s when I knew you could be the man I was going to marry. And turns out you were," she says, smiling sheepishly. "The love you have for people, for our daughter, it’s… it’s so profound, it’s boundless. So don’t limit it. Don’t you dare limit yourself just because I’m not around anymore."

Her expression turns serious as she exhales. “You’re such a bright light. You bring happiness and purity into people’s lives—into my life,” Y/N presses her hand against her chest. “I don’t want you to dim it. I want you to shine for as long as that candle burns. Don’t let it die prematurely because of bad happenings. There’s so much more to love, to live, to enjoy. And while you may not see me at your side anymore, holding onto D/N, I’m right here.”

Charles sniffles, folding his hands over his mouth as he swallows his sobs, while Y/N points to her heart.

“I’m with you forever and always. I’m protecting you and D/N, and I’m watching over you, making sure everything’s alright.” Y/N releases a sigh before chewing at her bottom lip with a wistful smile. “And part of that means making space for more love, for you. You have a big heart, you know? There’s enough room for you to find happiness with someone new. There’s no shame in it, and there’s no guilt in it. It’s what makes being alive such a beautiful thing: your love is yours, and it’s not confined to just one or two people. You can spread it, and still, our love will remain unchanged.”

Tears stream down the sides of Charles' cheeks as he struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes fixated on the screen as if afraid that if he peels his gaze away for one second, his wife will disappear.

Y/N briefly looks off to the side, her attention seemingly caught by something in the room, before snapping her head back to the camera with a bright smile.

“It seems I have to go,” her shoulders sink.

Charles leans forward, the screen mere inches away from his face, as he strokes the outline of Y/N’s face on the screen, whispering desperately, “Please don’t, mon cœur…”

“I love you so, so much. You and D/N are the most precious gifts, the greatest joys I have had the privilege to experience, so please, please,” she claps her hands together, moving them back and forth, “please…when I die, I want you to live.”

Y/N rises from the couch and walks towards the screen, her eyes unwavering for even a moment. “Give my little girl all my love, and kiss and hug her extra tight for as long as you can, for me.”

Offering one final smile, she blows a kiss at the screen. “I love you. Please don’t stop. Don't stop loving and don't stop living.”

The video freezes with Y/N frozen in place, a beautiful smile etched onto her lips, filled with the purest form of love.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Charles collapses, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He drops his face into his hands and releases all of it: sob after sob after sob. There’s something liberating about finally letting go; the burden pours out of him, leaving behind a fragile yet tranquil Charles as he gazes at the still shot of his beloved wife, whom he adores so deeply.

A soft click draws his attention to the door just in time for it to creak open slowly, revealing his little girl standing there, her favourite yellow teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms.

“Papa,” her voice floats like a gentle breeze.

Charles smiles, opening his arms wide as she runs towards him. He's momentarily winded as she reaches him, but he quickly regains his composure and lifts her onto his lap.

“Hello, my love,” he whispers, touching his forehead to hers.

Her tiny hand pats his cheek, her expression filled with concern. “You’re crying?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to reassure her. “Happy tears,” he explains, “look.” He points at the screen, where Y/N's serene face is frozen in time.

“Maman!” D/N exclaims, slipping from his lap and heading towards the screen. Her small hands tap the screen eagerly as she calls out, “Maman! Maman! Maman!”

“Yes,” Charles swallows, ignoring the pang in his chest as he shifts his focus to his little girl. “You want to see Maman, huh?”

He rises from the sofa and lifts D/N into the air, settling her on his hip. “How about we go take a look at the photo albums, okay? There are lots of beautiful pictures of Maman in there, alright?”

“Maman! Maman! Maman!” D/N continues to exclaim, squirming excitedly in his arms as they walk through the door and down the hallway into the living room.

f1gossipofficial

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f1gossipofficial Nine months after the tragic passing of his wife, Y/N, Charles Leclerc has been spotted for the first time on a beach in Spain with their shared daughter.

Witnesses who captured the photographs above mentioned that he appeared to be coping well, and fans respectfully gave them space while appreciating the sight from afar.

We're glad to see Charles out and about again, and we extend our best wishes to him and his family as they continue to navigate these changes.

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username im so glad the fans kept to themselves

username right?? so respectful🫶

username charlie🥹❤️ it's been so long but we'll always be here whenever he's ready

username tbh I was very worried during the radio silence but I think him being out there is a step in the right direction🥲

username still can't believe y/n is no longer here... i miss her sm😭

username omg there's a vid on twitter of them playing ball and u can hear their daughter giggling 💕

username I can't find it could you pls send the link?🙏 username dmed u! username me too pls

username it must be so hard to grief y/n while also trying to be strong for their daughter :( sending him all the strength!!

username 😭😭😭

4:44 ────────────ㅇ 4:44

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crescenthistory · 1 month ago

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I'm so excited to see you're having a celebration, congratulations on the followers lovely!!

could I get you to argue for the red strings of fate au with bartylus x fem!reader. Maybe Regulus can see the strings (not everyone can) and has at this point told Barty about the two of them (though i see him having been extremely reluctant to at first and getting all angsty about it). But there was always another string and they never figured out who it was while at school. Maybe they start new jobs as adults and Regulus realizes the third is getting pulled more often so they must be nearby, but they are constantly MISSING HER. Culminates in them meeting, yada yada yada

Okay, kind of a lot of details, I had thoughts lol. Feel free to trim or edit wherever you please ~

thank you so much my love, you are an angel<3 this one was the hardest to write for some reason, but wound up becoming one of my absolute favourites! so thank you for challenging me xx art by vidhic0re

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 65 "red string of fate AU" with poly!bartylus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, reg pov, established bartylus, suggestive scene, barty has abandonment issues (and thus is worried about a third soulmate), referenced mental hardship for them both, very fluffy, first-meeting

wc: 2.2k

Regulus had grown used to his life with an unknown string; comfortable, even.

When he met Barty at age 11 and could for the first time in his life see the end of one of his two strings, he had been too young to feel truly excited over it. Rather, it just became a fact of life for the two of them, something put aside for the time being and scheduled to be brought up again at a later point.

Barty couldn’t see the string, so he didn’t really get what Regulus meant all those years back when he mumbled “oh, we’re connected”. The scene he caused when someone explained it to him at a Yule Ball, and he barged up to Regulus, drunk out of his mind and confused, heartbroken and in love all at the same time, is one that still haunts them both. Just like untangling a knot, they talked it out in the hallway and then in the common room and then in the dorms and then in every other room they were in for the rest of their lives.

Because it was officially for life – and despite his jokes, Regulus would never have it any other way.

The only thing that was left itching on his curiosity was this still-strange string. The one he had told Barty about, only to have him blow it off, calling it unimportant because “all I need is you, baby”.

Regulus couldn’t disagree with that sentiment, but the curiosity still lingered.

It lingered over months and years as they broke away from their families and bought their own – rather cramped, now without their money – flat in the boroughs of London. It lingered as they settled down in their separate lines of work and tried to make a life worth living. It lingered as the string would be taut or slack, almost as if their third was out there, swirling close and then away, just outside their periphery. He never pulled on it, even when his mind swam with possibilities.

Regulus climbed the ranks and became the manager of a new quill and parchment shop to rival Scrivenshaft's and Scribbulus, while Barty jumped from job to job, having a suspicious amount of commitment issues for someone quite literally tied for life to his boyfriend and some stranger. He had dabbled in everything from freelance bountyhunter that took too much enjoyment in hauling in extremist bloodpurists, to stand-up comedian that made himself laugh more than anyone else. It made Regulus roll his eyes, but Barty’s adventures truly were his greatest source of entertainment.

Said entertainment was what brought them to a hotel room in Paris, lazily making out on the pristine white bed on the top floor. Barty had the wild idea of auditioning for a muggle circus there the day after – “just a momentary thing, Reg, c’mon, don’t you always call me a clown?” – and Regulus decided to make it into a faux couple's business trip to ensure his partner didn’t accidentally break the Statute of Secrecy. He told the higher-ups at his job that he was visiting their Paris branch for a few days to learn how to improve. Quite frankly, Regulus made them too much money for them to argue.

“Be honest, you only came along because you wanted me all to yourself before I become a world star,” Barty teased against his lips, body sprawled out over Regulus’, tattooed hand resting idly around his neck.

Regulus let out a breath in between kisses, fighting an indulgent smile. “I want to make sure I get to keep you without your arse getting thrown in Azkaban.”

“What about my arse, hm?” Barty murmured, lips divulging on a path down Regulus’ jaw that was bound to turn his brain off.

There was but one thing that could break through the delicious haze of Barty.

His string pulled.

Regulus’ hands suddenly shot up to Barty’s face, gently but firmly pulling him away as his lips parted in shock.

Barty’s brows furrowed, concern beginning to seep in already. “Reg, wha–”

Regulus hushed him. His gaze was fixed, almost hypnotically so, on the shimmery red string that stretched out from his wrist, the one that only ever he could see or touch. The one that was currently drawn taut and shaking as if someone… “I don’t believe it,” he whispered.

“Spit it out, Regulus.” Barty’s face was still filled with concern, taking on the tone of no-bullshit that was reserved for when he was worried his boyfriend wasn’t communicating with him.

Remembering himself, Regulus let his thumbs brush gently over Barty’s cheeks, soothing. “I’m sorry amour, it’s just… the string. They’re pulling on it.”

A wave of relief and slight frustration washed over his face. “Merlin, Reg, that’s it? You had me thinking it was something important.”

This brought Regulus’ gaze back to Barty’s again, and this time, it was his turn to furrow his brows. “It is important, B. They've never pulled before, never been this close.”

His boyfriend dragged his hands up and down Regulus’ sides, soothing in their own right, as if trying to reassure any emotive reaction out of him. “Well yeah, sure, it’s intriguing, but it’s not gasp-mid-snog-and-make-your-boyfriend-piss-himself important.”

Regulus couldn’t help but snort. He began to sit up, pushing a willing Barty back with him so that they were sitting facing each other on the bed. Tentatively, Regulus intertwined his fingers with Barty’s on the hand the strings were attached to, his free hand coming up to trace the strange string in the air.

It was hypnotising – even Barty, who couldn’t see the string, watched Regulus’ fingers tracing the air reverently with rapt attention. “They’re here, Barty,” Regulus whispered, looking up at him through his lashes. “I’m sure of it. That is important.”

For a beat, Barty didn’t say anything, eyes flickering back and forth between Regulus’ as he breathed out slowly. Then, he drew the air back in sharply between his teeth, as if pulling a decision in with it, and squeezed Regulus’ hand.

“Alright then – let’s go find the poor sucker.”

This time it was Regulus’ turn to be bewildered, trying to hold onto Barty who was already moving away from the bed, free hand reaching out towards the hotel door.

“I– wha– Barty!” Regulus all but hissed, trying to hold him back. “We can’t just– barge in, we have to think this through.”

His boyfriend scoffed and rolled his eyes, all while wearing his signature grin. He turned on his heel, dragging Regulus closer to him by their intertwined fingers so that he could caress his side all the way up to his face. The green in Barty’s eyes seemed to shine brighter as he gently cupped Regulus’ face, bringing their foreheads together.

“C’mon Reg. This is pretty straightforward. If we have another soulmate, that soulmate is close by and important to you. So I say we go find them. Yeah? No need to overthink or overprepare. Isn’t the point of a soulmate that they’ll like us for who we are? If not, then fuck them, yeah?”

Barty’s pep talks were always difficult to argue against, no matter how much fault Regulus found in his logic. Tonight he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he gripped the back of Barty’s neck and brought him down into a searing, deep kiss – one that Barty had no problem returning in an instant.

When they parted, both were smiling and panting. Barty looked endearingly at Regulus’ closed eyelids before they fluttered open to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” Regulus whispered. “Alright. Just– just let me grab my jumper.”

Barty released his fingers in favour of Regulus throwing on a jumper, feeling, despite his insistence, that he needed some layer of protection against whatever might face him outside this hotel door. An eternal love, a stinging rejection, or – perhaps worse – no end in sight.

Regulus’ fingers traced the taut string in fascination while his free hand grasped Barty’s once more before they spilled into the hallway, a many-limbed mythical creature of jittering nerves.

“You lead the way, babe,” Barty teased, squeezing Regulus’ hand reassuringly.

With bated breath, Regulus began following the string. It was still just as tight, but it hadn’t shook or shown any signs of being pulled for a few minutes. He was beginning to worry he had imagined it.

Until he rounded a corner and there – there the string ended. The string led straight to the door labelled with 117, disappearing in behind it.

Regulus stopped in his steps, making Barty almost run into him.

“What?” Barty whispered, sensing the change in tension.

“It’s that one there.” Regulus’ eyes hadn’t left where the string disappeared in between the cracks. “Room 117.”

Barty’s breath hitched and Regulus swore he could hear him whisper sick, but chose to ignore it.

With tentative steps, Regulus moved closer towards the door until he stood in front of it. There was a faint sound of rustling and some form of indecipherable melody seeping out through the door, and though it might have been placebo, he felt oddly at peace in front of it. Choosing to follow Barty’s sentiments – don’t overthink – he lifted his knuckles to rap on the door once, twice, thrice.

Any sound behind the door ceased.

Regulus remained staring at the silver numbers on the dark brown wood, holding his breath. The complete lack of sound from Barty told him that he was doing the same, but he couldn’t bring himself to check, too wrapped up in the consequences of this singular moment.

No sounds from the door – but the string pulled once, twice, thrice.

Regulus looked down at the fickle thing, heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in his life, he wrapped his hand around the buzzing string and pulled too. An agent of his own fate, he pulled three times himself. Unsure if that was what he was meant to do, wholly unaware of what else there was to do.

To his utter amazement and deepest fear, the string went slightly slack, almost as if the other person had let it go. Instead, the doorknob twisted.

With rusted screeching hinges, creaking wood and the screaming of Regulus’ heart, the door swung open to reveal – you.

You stood before them, in an outfit they would come to know as quintessential you, staring at them with slightly parted lips and wide eyes. When his gaze trailed down your every feature, they finally landed on what he never thought he would see; his final string reaching out from his hand and circling neatly around your wrist. Regulus’ eyes remained trained on that sight, digesting it.

“She’s beautiful,” Barty breathed out. Not one for silences, not even now. Your eyes moved from looking at Regulus’ own wrist to Barty’s and then up to his face, still equally rattled. Barty cleared his throat a little and Regulus looked up to see a spark in his green eyes that he had seen many a time but never aimed at someone else. “You’re beautiful,” he clarified, daring to smile a little at you.

To Regulus’ joy, you let out a laugh. It was an airy, almost teary laugh, one that summarised every intensity of this very moment.

“Well, thank you… erm, and, hi.” Your voice was melodic, creeping up over Regulus’ skin and into his ears.

“Hi, amour,” he whispered back, squeezing Barty’s hand reassuringly at the usage of his pet name. He tried to open his mouth to say more, but the words got stuck.

“I… I can’t believe…” You seemed utterly bewildered as a smile grew on your face, taking them both in rapidly.

Regulus had never considered what it would mean for their third partner that he and Barty found each other so long ago, that she had been without them both for so long, waiting, hoping. It made him a little choked up.

“This is the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.” Barty’s declaration and accompanying laugh zapped Regulus of some of his remaining nerves.

“Strange as in horrifying or… exciting?” Your voice was a bit small, but your expression was so encaptivating that Regulus saw Barty melting.

“Most excited I have felt in years. Certainly more than I will feel at the circus.”

A surprised bark of laughter escaped you. “At the what?”

Barty grinned – Regulus couldn’t help but do the same. “We have a lot to catch up on, love, but it… it would be an honour to do so. Mind if we come in?”

Your eyes shone with a glossy sense of endearment and mischief that Regulus knew would mould perfectly into their relationship. You took a step back and gestured inside. “Please do. Just don’t kill me.”

“Oh, he would never,” Barty said, already beginning to enter, suddenly more than eager to meet his last soulmate. He shot you a wink. “I might though.”

Regulus met your eyes as Barty’s hand dragged him in, milking the moment of eye contact for all its worth. “He won’t,” he whispered in passing.

“Oh, I figured,” you stage-whispered after him with a beaming smile.

You shut the door behind them, and a new chapter began.

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joelsrose · 4 months ago

Text

First Date? Part 6

Hi my angels, here is a long awaited part 6 xx its a tad bit shorter but i wanted to give you guys somethin as ive been holding out on yall. i love you guys sooo much pls enjoy - there will be another chapter!!

previous chapter

word count: 6k words

The days blurred together in an endless, suffocating loop, stretching out like an expanse of barren land where nothing grew, where nothing changed, where time was both crawling and slipping through your fingers.

You barely left the house. You barely ate. You barely slept.

It was pathetic, really— sulking like a heartbroken girl convinced her world had shattered over a boy, except this wasn’t even that. There had been no confession, no love declared and returned, no sweet promises broken. Just a drunken moment, a slip of the tongue, a feeling dragged into the light and left there to wilt under his silence.

And Joel—Joel hadn’t come to see you. Hadn’t so much as looked in your direction. He was out there, moving through the world, working, speaking, drinking, doing anything and everything except facing what he’d done. A part of you hated him for it. Not just for walking away, but for making you feel stupid for ever believing he might have stayed.

Spring crept in slow and golden, its warmth seeping into the bones of Jackson, melting away the last remnants of winter, softening the air, making the rivers swell and the ground smell of damp earth.

The whole world was moving forward. Days stretched longer, the snow thinned into streams, the buds bloomed against sun-warmed wood.

And yet you remained unchanged, frozen beneath the thaw, untouched by the season’s promise of renewal.

Regret sat thick in your chest, wound tight as barbed wire, pressing sharp against your ribs, scraping with every breath. You regretted it all—getting drunk, speaking too freely, telling him you loved—

No.

You regretted feeling anything for him at all.

Whatever it was—this raw, impossible, consuming thing that had settled deep inside you—it had become something you could neither hold nor rid yourself of.

It pushed and pulled, twisted and tore, made you ache with longing and fury all at once, until the two bled together so thoroughly that you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

And at night, when the world quieted and the town lay still beneath the silver glow of the moon, you thought of him.

Spring had arrived, but it had done nothing for you.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You forced yourself out of the house today, dragging yourself from the tangled sheets and the stale air of your room.

It took effort—more than it should have—to pull a brush through your hair, to find clothes that didn’t reek of days spent in bed, to step outside and face the world that had continued to turn without you.

You walked without purpose, without real direction, but your feet knew where to take you before your mind did, leading you down the familiar path toward the stables, toward something steady, something safe.

When you reached the stables, you pushed the door open without thinking, the familiar creak of the hinges breaking the silence. The smell of leather and hay washed over you immediately—warm, steady, safe, like stepping into a memory that wasn’t yours but still felt like home.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tightness in your ribs loosened, if only just a fraction. Your eyes found Winnie in her stall, the sight of her sending the smallest most fragile flicker of warmth through you.

Your girl. She was still here. Still waiting.

Her ears twitched at the sound of your boots scraping against the dirt floor. You moved toward her and reached for the stall door, brushing your fingers over the worn wood, when a sound stopped you cold.

A click. Subtle, metallic. Deliberate.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t dare look up. But you didn’t need to. You knew that sound. Knew it better than you wanted to.

When you finally lifted your head, your heart gave a heavy, painful lurch in your chest.

Joel was there.

He sat on the bench against the far wall, half-shrouded in the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the wood. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, his head bent low as he worked the gun in his hands, his fingers moving with an ease that didn’t match the tension carved into his face. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight, hard line, his eyes fixed on the task as if he could will away whatever thoughts had followed him here.

He looked good—too good—caught in the kind of light that didn’t seem fair, the soft, golden rays spilling through the gaps in the barn walls, framing him like something meant to be remembered, something holy.

The warmth of the day had coaxed him out of his usual layers, leaving him in nothing but a faded t-shirt that clung to him in a way that made you forget how to breathe. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath, the sleeves brushing just enough to expose the curve of his biceps, the hard lines of his forearms—a quiet, unassuming display of power he didn’t even seem aware of.

The sunlight kissed his skin as though it had been made for him alone, drenching him in gold, illuminating every ridge and valley of his face, deepening the ruggedness carved into his features by time, by loss, by the weight of things unspoken.

Shadows stretched across his skin, soft and reverent, tracing the faint scars along his forearms like scripture, like devotion, like something sacred.

The weathered roughness of him—the calloused hands, the lines around his mouth that spoke of too many battles fought, too many nights spent awake—only added to the unbearable beauty of his presence. His hair was tousled, unkempt in a way that was careless but perfect, the strands falling over his forehead like they had a mind of their own.

And then he looked up.

It wasn’t just a glance. It never was with him.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

A deep, sin-darkened brown, rich and endless, like the earth after rainfall, like soil warm beneath the sun, like something meant to swallow you whole and never let you go.

They held depth, a heaviness, a sorrow that ran deeper than flesh, deeper than blood, something ancient, something eternal.

They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much, carried too much, and yet they softened when they found you, dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks, gaze sinking into you like a whispered prayer.

For a moment—just a breath, just a heartbeat—the barn, the sunlit dust floating in the air, the aching hollow in your chest��it all ceased to exist. There was only him.

“Hey,” he murmured, soft and coaxing, a word wrapped in something gentle, something unfamiliar—so distinctly opposite to the man he was, it almost felt like a trick of the light.

Your breath hitched, stomach twisting, and you swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away with a force that nearly unsteadied you, as though breaking eye contact might somehow lessen the hold he had on you. As though not looking at him might make it hurt less.

“Hi,” you muttered, barely more than breath, barely more than sound, your voice catching against the tightness in your throat. You forced yourself to focus on Winnie, on the warmth of her nose beneath your trembling fingers, on the steady rise and fall of her breath.

“How are you?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was stepping onto thin ice, aware that any wrong move could send everything crashing into the freezing depths.

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out too quickly, too sharp, the lie embedded in every syllable. You hated the way your voice trembled at the edges, betraying the knot of tension in your throat. In your peripheral vision, you saw him shift, his jaw tightening, the slight clench of muscle betraying the sting of your tone.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push, just nodded once—a short, measured motion, his expression unreadable as though bracing himself for the silence that followed.

Then—after what could’ve been moments, or minutes, or an eternity—his voice came again, cutting through the stillness like a blade softened at the edges, quieter this time, barely above a whisper, so gentle you might have missed it if not for the way it curled around you, wrapped tight and unshakable.

"Hey."

It was softer than before, rougher somehow, like it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, like it had been pulled straight from something raw and aching inside him.

You shouldn’t have turned. Shouldn’t have looked. But you did. Your heart stammered, stumbled, its rhythm uneven, a weak, faltering thing, as you turned your head just enough to catch sight of him.

"C’mere."

Two syllables. Quiet. Coaxing. His voice held that same impossible ache, that quiet longing, like he was pulling at a thread neither of you had the strength to break.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, a subtle motion, barely a movement at all, but somehow it still carried weight, as if the gesture alone had the power to pull you closer, as if some invisible tether had wrapped around you both, dragging you toward something inevitable. His eyes were locked onto yours, deep and dark and unreadable, except—no. No, they weren’t unreadable at all. They were speaking, murmuring, pleading.

"You’re too far away."

The look he gave you—it was unbearable. The weight of it, the sheer intensity of it, the way it stripped you down with nothing but silence.

Your fingers curled against the edge of Winnie’s stall, gripping the rough wood like a lifeline. "I’m fine here," you murmured, the words quiet, forced, barely scraping past the tightness in your chest.

His brow furrowed. A flicker of something crossed his face, there and then gone again, replaced by something unreadable. But then his voice came again—low, rough, frayed at the edges, like a thread pulling taut, like something on the verge of snapping.

"I ain’t gonna bite."

There was something wry in it, something that might’ve made you smile if your ribs didn’t feel like they were caving in. Almost. But even his quiet attempt at humor couldn’t mask the weight in his voice, the guilt clinging to him like a second skin.

And still—you didn’t move.

He exhaled then, the sound quiet but heavy.

Then—soft. Barely more than breath.

"Please."

Before you could stop yourself, before logic or pride could anchor you to the ground, you moved. It was terrifying, how easy it was to move toward him after everything, how little resistance your body put up against the very thing you had sworn to fight.

You didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare lift your gaze and risk seeing what might be waiting there, because you knew—you knew it would ruin you, that it would be too much, that whatever flickered in his eyes would only make the ache in your chest worse.

You reached the bench before you had the chance to second-guess yourself. You sat stiffly, carefully, deliberately leaving space between you, hands gripping your knees as though keeping them still might somehow keep your heart from threatening to break free from your ribs.

Joel's gun sat forgotten at his feet, abandoned without a second thought, but you could feel his attention locked onto you, unwavering, unrelenting.

You didn’t have to look to know that he had turned toward you, that his body had angled ever so slightly in your direction, that his shoulders had shifted like he was preparing himself for something, bracing himself against a force greater than either of you knew how to name.

Joel noticed the gap you had left. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

You saw it in the way his gaze dropped to the empty space between you, in the way his lips pressed into a faint line, in the way something in his expression tightened, just for a second, just long enough for you to catch it before he forced it away.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. You felt it. The quiet, unspoken wish, the way he longed for you to close the distance, the way he wanted—needed—you to reach for him first.

You saw it in the way his fingers curled loosely over his knee, in the way his shoulders tensed as if holding himself back, as if waiting.

He wanted you to lean into him, to let the warmth of your leg brush against his, to rest your head on his shoulder the way you used to, to fold into him like it was something instinctive, something natural, something you had both forgotten how to live without.

He wanted it more than he would ever let himself admit. But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t. Because he was the one who had walked away. Because he was the one who had put the distance there in the first place.

You swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter with every second of silence. Words caught in your throat, heavy and clumsy, and you were scrambling for something—anything—to break it.

“Thanks—” you started, the word barely out before his voice cut through yours.

“Can we talk—”

The two of you froze, words colliding mid-air, tangled and awkward, stumbling over each other in the thick silence that stretched between you.

It was ridiculous, really—how hesitant, how unsure you both suddenly were, as if the past week of distance had left you fumbling, out of sync, two halves of something that used to fit but now felt just a little off-kilter.

Your eyes darted to his, startled, unsure, and found him already looking at you, his brows drawing together ever so slightly, the barest flicker of something indecipherable passing over his face—something caught between an apology and quiet amusement.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, and the moment stretched long, thick with something almost unbearable, something teetering on the edge of too much, until the sheer absurdity of it—the hesitation, the silence, the way you were both acting like strangers—finally broke you.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it, breathless and unsteady, soft around the edges, but real, and the second it escaped, something in him shifted.

His expression changed, subtle but devastating, the lines of his face loosening just slightly, as if the sound of your laughter had reached into some hidden part of him and shaken something loose.

He blinked, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, like he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

His lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and something softer, and for a moment, it looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. And then—

He smiled.

Not just a polite smile, not the distant, barely-there twitch of his lips he gave when he wanted to keep people at arm’s length.

No, this was different.

It was crooked and boyish, unguarded in a way that was almost maddening, something warm and reckless and so infuriatingly, devastatingly Joel that it felt like a punch to the chest.

It made him look younger, somehow—not in age, not in years, but in a way that made your throat tighten, in a way that made you ache.

And God, it was so Joel.

That impossible contradiction of him—the man who had lived through more than most could ever comprehend, who carried the weight of too many ghosts, but who could still look at you like that, like he had been caught off guard by something good, something soft, something he hadn’t quite believed he’d get to have again.

It was boyish and rugged, maddeningly beautiful, something both careless and careful all at once. Like an angel who had long since fallen, like a devil who had learned the art of tenderness, like something carved from both sin and devotion.

"Sorry." The word barely scraped past your lips, quiet, uncertain, almost fragile. Heat flooded your face before you could control it, rushing up from your chest, blooming hot beneath your skin, betraying you. And Joel—of course he noticed.

You saw the way his eyes flickered, how they lingered just a second too long, how something in his expression shifted, subtle but devastating, like he wasn’t just looking at you—he was feeling you, imagining the warmth of your skin against his, the press of your body, the way heat lived in your veins the same way it did in his.

Blood with blood. Flesh and bone. It was a fleeting thought, something primal, something dangerous, but it rooted itself deep inside him, settled into the quiet places he tried not to think about.

You dropped your gaze before you could drown in the weight of it, fixing your eyes on the dirt floor beneath your boots as though it held something worth looking at, as though the uneven, scuffed earth could offer you an escape, a place to rest your attention instead of meeting the impossible intensity of his stare.

And then he chuckled, low and quiet, a sound so warm and unguarded that it forced you to look at him, as if your body had decided before your mind had caught up.

He shifted slightly, his shoulders rolling beneath the weight of your gaze, his body adjusting like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, like you were the thing making him nervous.

And then you saw it.

The faint blush creeping along the edges of his ears.

Joel Miller—this strong, unshakable, impossible man—was blushing.

"Don’t apologize." The words were soft, meant only for you. "You go first."

You hesitated, your fingers clenching slightly against your lap, unsure, unsteady.

And then, softer this time, lower, steadier, his voice curling through the thick air and settling over you like something warm, something solid—

"Go on."

“I, um…” The words caught in your throat, fragile and uneven.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper, as if speaking them aloud might steal the last of your courage. “For taking me home the other night.”

He froze. The subtle rhythm of his movements—the faint sway of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against his knee—stilled completely.

“What?” The single word came low and careful, but you heard it—the faint tremor just beneath the surface.

His head tilted slightly, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, your skin flush. Those dark eyes searched you, narrowing slightly, as if the answer to his confusion might be written somewhere on your face.

Thank me? The question didn’t leave his lips, but it hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable, his silence thick with thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

For what? For leaving you when you needed him most? For all the ways he’d failed you, all the promises he’d never kept? The questions burned in his eyes, sharp and unrelenting, but he swallowed them back.

You pressed on, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into the rough wood of the bench to ground yourself. “I don’t…” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sound steady even as your chest felt like it might cave in.

“I don’t remember much from that night,” you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, each syllable heavier than the last. “Maria told me you… you took me home?”

Joel looked at you like he was trying to make sense of something, trying to find an anchor in a sea of things unsaid.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, barely audible. “I did.” His eyes searched yours, dark and intent, like they were trying to pull the truth from you, to find something you weren’t ready to give.

“You don’t remember,” he said, so softly it barely reached your ears.

You don’t remember saying—

"I more than care about you. I love—"

He could still hear it. Still feel it like a ghost against his skin, something whispered, something fragile, something that had hit him so hard it had knocked the breath from his lungs.

And maybe if he were a different man, if he were better, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve let himself believe that you meant it, that it wasn’t just the alcohol speaking, that maybe—maybe—it was something real, something he could hold on to.

But instead—he had walked away.

And now, sitting here, listening to you say you didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a knife to the gut.

Because if you did remember, and you were pretending you didn’t, it meant you regretted it.

And if you really didn’t remember—

Then maybe you hadn’t meant it at all.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, dragged out like it hurt to speak.

A pause. A breath. And then—

“You really don’t remember anything?” The words were quieter this time, almost hesitant, edged with something he couldn’t hide quickly enough.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head.

The lie burned its way up your throat, scorching and bitter, but you forced it down, swallowing hard as you buried it deep.

“The last thing I remember is being sprawled out on Tommy’s living room floor.” You let out a brittle laugh, sharp and hollow, the sound grating against the stillness like shattered glass. “I must’ve made a fool of myself.”

He looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as though holding back words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“I shouldn’t’ve let you drink that much,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter now, almost rough with regret. “That was on me.”

“You didn’t let me,” you said quietly, your voice wavering as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I made my own choices. I always do.”.

“Right,” he said finally, the word flat, drained of life, like it had been dragged out of him against his will.

God, his eyes. They were dark and intense, warmth swallowed by the storm of frustration and something far more devastating. Something that looked a lot like hurt. Those eyes—deep, unwavering, devastating—held only you, burned into yours with an intensity that felt like it might unravel you, echoing the silent, aching question that sat heavy between you - Why are you lying to me?

“Anyways,” you blurted, the word tumbling out too quickly, too sharp, cracking under the weight of his stare. You risked a glance at him, hoping for a reprieve, but his gaze had already shifted, fixed on some distant point like he could will himself anywhere but here.

“You were gonna say something before?” you asked, the question tentative, your breath catching as you waited for him to answer.

Joel blinked, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Oh. Yeah,” he muttered.

“Tommy and I are headin’ out on a two-day patrol. Overnight,” he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. He hesitated, his voice faltering before finishing softly, “So… I won’t be here.”

The realization struck you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for, the ache blooming in your chest so sharply and suddenly it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs.

Two days.

It wasn’t a long time—not really, not when measured against the steady pulse of Jackson’s days or the quiet, unspoken permanence of the life you’d built here—but the thought of him out there, beyond the gates, scraped against something raw, something tender, something that ached before it even had the chance to bruise.

“Right,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle, as you fought to keep it steady. You forced a shrug, hoping it looked nonchalant, but it felt like it might shatter you. “Well… be careful, I guess.”

He watched you closely, his gaze fixed on the way your hands remained tightly clasped in your lap, fidgeting with nothing, refusing to find any anchor beyond yourself. You wouldn’t look at him—not really—and the absence of your gaze, the way you kept your eyes so firmly averted, felt like a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

“Always am,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady, though a softness lingered just beneath, barely there but impossible to ignore.

His mind, unbidden and bitter, dragged him back to just a week ago, to a version of you who might’ve thrown your arms around his neck without a second thought, laughing as you made some teasing comment about him pulling his back out or grumbling about having to carry Tommy’s weight.

He could almost hear your voice, light and familiar, cutting through the heavy moments like it was nothing, like it had always been your natural gift to lift the impossible weight of the world off his shoulders without even trying.

You would’ve made him laugh, he was sure of it—really laugh, the kind of laugh that didn’t feel like it had to fight its way past the hardness of the life he carried.

A thought, wicked and insidious, placed there by the devil himself—selfish, desperate, utterly inappropriate for the fragile tension strung between you—urged him to kiss you, to press his lips to yours and steal away the hurt, to show you, not with words but with touch, just how much he needed you.

But all he could do was sit there, helpless and aching, watching as you pulled further away, retreating into yourself like a tide slipping from the shore, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

And before he could stop himself, before the rational part of his mind could scream loud enough to pull him back from the reckless, selfish thing he was about to do, his hand moved.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t even something he thought about—it just happened, slow and deliberate, like instinct had taken over, like it was something he was meant to do all along.

His fingers found your cheek, rough and calloused against the softness of your skin, the contrast so sharp it made his chest tighten, made something deep and aching bloom in the space between you.

His thumb moved, treacherous and traitorous, dragging slowly along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a reverence that felt almost sacred.

It was a betrayal of everything he’d been trying so hard to hold back, an admission he hadn’t meant to make, but he couldn’t stop himself now. His breathing hitched when your lips parted, soft and uncertain, the warmth of your stuttered breath brushing against his fingertips like a quiet plea, like something unspoken passing between you.

And still, his thumb moved again, dragging over your bottom lip this time, so slow, so careful, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, as if this tiny act of closeness could somehow soothe the ache that had settled so deeply in his chest. It was reverent, desperate, dangerous—a quiet, trembling act of defiance against the walls he’d spent so long building.

His heart hammered against his ribs as his thumb lingered there, just a moment longer than it should have, and when your throat bobbed, when your breath stuttered again, he felt his control slipping further, felt himself drowning in everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

"Be good," he murmured finally, his voice low and rough, breaking under the weight of everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"Take care of yourself while I’m gone," he added, quieter this time, almost too soft to hear, and the words felt like they cost him something, like each one dragged a piece of him out with it. And then, as if the act of speaking hadn’t already been enough to break him, he swallowed hard and breathed, "You need anything, you go to Maria, okay?"

You didn’t answer—not right away, not in the way he had hoped, in the way that might’ve made this easier. Instead, you just breathed, sharp and uneven, the weight of it pressing into the space between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, slowly, like it physically pained you to do it, you shifted back, putting distance where there had been none. His touch slipped from your skin, his thumb no longer caught in the trance of you, no longer resting against the softness of your lips.

And because the silence threatened to swallow him whole, because he couldn’t bear the ache of it anymore, he did the only thing he could—he stood abruptly, the old wooden bench groaning loudly under the force of his movement.

It was sharp, unsteady, almost frantic, like he was trying to outrun whatever had settled between you. He reached for his rifle, grabbing it with more force than was necessary, slinging it over his shoulder in one quick motion, his jaw so tight it sent a sharp ache through his teeth.

"Well," he muttered finally, his voice low and rough, barely carrying the weight of the words. "I better get goin’."

You nodded once, a quick, small movement, like it was all you could manage.

Joel stood there for a second too long, hesitating, his fingers twitching slightly at his side like they wanted to reach for you one last time, like they couldn’t help themselves.

But then he forced himself to move, his steps slow and deliberate, each one feeling heavier than the last as he turned and walked toward the door.

The stable door groaned under Joel’s weight as he pushed it open, the late afternoon sun spilling in behind him in a flood of warm, golden light. The glow caught on the edges of his frame, outlining the broad cut of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the tousled strands of his hair that curled just slightly in the heat. It painted him in shades of amber and firelight, casting uneven shadows across the dirt floor that stretched like reaching hands, as though the room itself couldn’t bear to let him go.

He paused there, one hand resting against the weathered wood, his fingers curling slightly into the grooves of it, as if something unseen was holding him back, as if leaving was harder than he’d expected it to be.

For a moment, you thought that was it. That he’d go. That he’d step into the light without another word, without sparing you a second glance, and leave you here, drowning in the ghost of his touch, in the heavy, suffocating ache of all the things you’d left unsaid.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he turned.

"Hey."

His voice was soft, a low, steady warmth that slipped through the silence like a balm, untying the knots that had coiled themselves so tightly in your chest.

You blinked, swallowing hard, dragging yourself out of the spiral that threatened to pull you under. “Yeah?”

"We’re okay, aren’t we?"

"Yeah. We’re good."

It was a lie. A terrible one. And the worst part was that you both knew it.

Joel’s jaw twitched—just the slightest flicker of movement, but it was enough. Enough for you to know he felt it, the weight of your dishonesty settling between you like a lead weight. He didn’t believe you. Of course, he didn’t. And you knew he didn’t. You saw it in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his chest rose with a slow, measured breath like he was holding something back, in the way his eyes stayed locked onto yours—steady, dark, searching.

And still, he didn’t call you on it. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at you, seeing you in that way only he ever did, like he could read every thought before you could even voice it, like he could reach inside you and pull out the truth no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

"Alright."

He turned then, his boots scuffing against the dirt as he stepped toward the open doorway.

And then—just like that—he was gone.

So quick. Too quick. Like a shadow disappearing the moment you tried to grasp it, slipping through your fingers before you could hold onto anything solid.

A shiver crawled up your spine as you stared at the empty space where he had been, something cold and unreal settling deep in your chest. It was dizzying, disorienting—had he even been here at all? Had you imagined the weight of his touch, the way his voice had softened, the quiet devastation in his eyes? Or had you conjured it out of thin air, a cruel trick of your own longing, your own inability to let go of something that had never truly been yours?

You weren’t a religious woman. Never had been. But there, in the quiet of that stable, with the last remnants of Joel’s presence still lingering in the air, you fell to your knees. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, before logic or pride could stop you, before you could convince yourself that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Your elbows braced against the edge of the bench where the two of you had sat only moments ago, your hands clasped together so tightly that your knuckles ached, and you begged.

Not to anyone in particular, not to anything you truly believed in, but to something—something holy, something divine, something greater than yourself.

You begged for the hole in your heart to heal, for the ache in your chest to ease, for the unbearable weight of loving him to lift from your shoulders.

You begged for the strength to let go, for the kind of peace that had always eluded you, for the impossible relief of forgetting what it felt like to need him. And, most of all, you prayed.

You prayed that he would come back safe.

And you prayed that one day, somehow, you would be able to stop loving him.

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akirasgarden · 4 months ago

Text

“We’re married?”

{ has this been in my drafts for like a week? yea. is this crappy? yes. is this my first smau since i was 13? yes. oh well. }

OP81 x Reader!

FC!: girls on pinterest

photo credit!: pinterest

ynspersonalhoes

date night + the last few nights xx

liked by user1,user2,user3, oscarpiastri, lando and 102,237 others!

user1: is miss yn hard launching or am i dreaming

—> user2: stop don’t convince me she is

user3: i think she’s with lando’s in the likes… 🤨

—> lando: do you guys think i’d stoop as low as this gremlin

—> ynspersonalhoes: what the fuck

user5: you guys are delusional and ship anybody istg

—> user6: no literally, if i’m in the likes does that mean im with yn? 💀

oscarpiastri: gorgeous as always <3

—> user7: bro shot his shot and missed

—> user8: cornball

oscarpiastri

someone convince me not to go to a beach next time, horrible experience

liked by ynspersonalhoes,lando,user1,logansargent and 456,345 others!

lando: oscar get your TOES out of the photo in the second picture

—> oscarpiastri: you right, it’s for free what was i thinking

—> ynspersonalhoes: ew but okay king

user1: hey with intention of you telling us who the heartbroken lady is

—> user7: poor her 💔

—> user6: she must be suffering for real

—> user8: she’s prolly crying rn guys 💔

—> lando: she is really going through it

—> user6: hi lando?..

logansargent: you would never survive in florida

—> oscarpiastri: i’m glad 😌

ynspersonalhoes

i love beaches but he doesn’t :(

liked by oscarpiastri,user3,user13,lando and 672,237 others!

oscarpiastri: i hate sand 😓

—> ynspersonalhoes: so you hate me is what your saying

—> oscarpiastri: no what-

—> user1: first off, SINCE WHEN DID THEY GET TG??

—> ynspersonalhoes: we’ve been married 6 years mate … 😭

—> user6: WHAT.

lando: i feel disgusted that i was shipped with you

—> ynspersonalhoes: shut up slut.

{ again, let me state this. i am not calling myself a professional writer, nor did i say i was good. i purely made this out of boredom. feel free to request (anything BUT smut since i am a minor, again, this will not be as good as big people on here since i do this just as a hobby please and thanks lmk if u like it! }

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #fic #formula one #formula 1 #formula racing #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #bro i’m so bored they wanna take out my tonsils

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hypnobeauty · 5 months ago

Text

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 2)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, transphobia, fluff if you squint really hard, pre-squid game, slice of life, timeline might be a bit wonky, this one is a bit sad. a/n: hey, didn't think i'd get any response on the previous part but people enjoyed and i'm happy! this time i decided to write some background for hyun; the show gives us very little on her, so i made up a lot of stuff. my shayla!! just a heads up, i know nothing of military, so i googled a bunch of stuff and probably faked some information. oh well. enjoy! xx comments are always appreciated ♥️ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @trizxyp - lemme know if you'd like to be added.

part 2. unexpected bloom

it was hyun-ju.

she’d lingered in the clinic longer than she’d planned, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you. she’d seen you when you first came in, laughing with your friend, and something about your energy had drawn her in. for a moment, she’d dared to hope you might still be there when she left. but when she scanned the waiting room, you were gone, and that small flicker of hope faded into disappointment.

she wasn’t sure why she cared. hyun-ju had felt your glances earlier, and while being stared at wasn’t new to her, it wasn’t something she ever got used to. there was always a tension in those moments—a question of whether the gaze was one of judgment, curiosity, or something worse. but with you, it had been different. there was no malice or disgust in the way you looked at her. if anything, you seemed… curious. interested, maybe. though she told herself she was probably imagining it.

as she sat in her car, her mind drifted back to the past months. it hadn’t been easy—nothing about transitioning ever was—but this was the life she had chosen, the life she’d fought for. hyun-ju’s life had changed drastically. almost a year ago, she’d lost her position in the army, a career she’d poured herself into for twelve long years. as a sergeant first class in the special forces, she’d been respected and admired, known for her skill and discipline. but when she came out to her superior—a man she’d once seen as a mentor, even a father figure—everything crumbled.

she’d gone into his office nervous but hopeful. maybe he’d understand. maybe, at worst, she’d lose a rank or face a transfer. but instead, he’d looked at her like she’d grown a second head, addressing her by her dead name and suggesting she was "confused" or "clouded in judgment." he gave her a week to reconsider her words but by the time she walked out of that office, her military career was over.

at thirty, she was adrift—jobless, heartbroken, and unsure of her place in the world. her girlfriend at the time hadn’t made it any easier. when hyun-ju told her about her plans to transition, the girl had simply said, “i can’t date a gay man. sorry.” no amount of explaining—about how she wasn’t gay, how she liked girls but was also a girl—seemed to get through. the girl left her in a café, bewildered and suddenly very alone.

in moments like that, hyun-ju often found herself reflecting on her life. even as a kid, she’d known she was different. she loved roughhousing with her brother, playing football in the middle of the road and riding her bike around the neighborhood, but she secretly longed to be the pink ranger when they played, even though she always ended up as the blue.

by the time puberty hit, her confusion had crystallized into a painful clarity. she envied the girls in her school—not just for who they were, or her personalities, but for how their bodies changed in ways hers never would. at fourteen, she tried confiding in a school counselor, but that backfired spectacularly when her father found out. the berating she endured and the punishment that followed left her with one lesson: never speak of it again.

her first girlfriend, ga-eul, had been a bright spot in those early years. hyun-ju liked to think she had been a good “boyfriend,” attentive and sensitive, but deep down, she’d longed to be seen for who she truly was. when she left for military service at eighteen, she and ga-eul parted ways.

many years later, when hyun-ju updated her social media with her new name and posted her first photo of her, ga-eul had sent her a message. “i always knew you were special. live your truth, hyun-ju.” it was small, but it meant the world to her.

even so, she carried that secret inside her, even as she became a star in physical education, even as she left for mandatory military service at eighteen. rising through the ranks to become a special forces sergeant first class was no small feat, especially for someone who had to constantly suppress half of who they were. but at home, behind closed doors, she allowed herself small moments of freedom. over time, she collected pieces of her true self—a pair of delicate earrings, a sleek dress, makeup she practiced applying in secret.

over the past nine months, hyun-ju had made strides toward becoming the woman she’d always been inside. hrt had softened her features, reshaped her body, and even brought a slight swell to her chest. now, every time she looked in the mirror, she felt closer to the person she’d always been inside. but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

this new chapter in her life wasn’t without its challenges. her savings, her army pension, and her cautious spending habits had carried her this far, but she hadn’t anticipated how expensive transitioning would be. she’d started laser hair removal and gotten fillers and botox, but today’s procedure was her first major surgery: a rhinoplasty to smooth out the bump on her nose and reshape the tip and nostrils. she had other procedures planned—a facelift, jaw shaving, double eyelid surgery—but her surgeon had advised starting small. the costs were steep, but to her it was worth it.

and yet, the isolation that came with these changes weighed the most on her. she’d distanced herself from her family, avoided video calls, and cut ties with many of her old friends and colleagues. outside of her therapist and a trans support group she’d joined, she rarely interacted with anyone who truly saw her.

and then there was you.

two weeks later, you were back at the clinic with ha-neul, waiting outside the doctor’s office with your kindle. you were engrossed in your book when a quiet argument at the reception desk caught your attention. looking up, you saw her: hyun-ju.

she looked different from before, her hair slightly longer and tied in a small bun. she wore jeans, knee-high boots, and a trench coat, with a leather crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. but her face was what really caught your attention.

her nose was bandaged, the skin around it bruised and swollen. she looked tired, but it wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of weariness that came from carrying too much for too long. you weren’t sure why your breath hitched, but it did. then you caught snippets of the conversation.

“i’m sorry, miss,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “we can’t dismiss you without a third-party signature. it’s for your safety.”

hyun-ju’s voice was soft but firm, laced in frustration. “i have no one.”

before you could think, you were on your feet, walking toward them. “i—i could help?” you stammered, unsure if you were even speaking to her directly.

she turned to you, her face swollen and bruised, her nose bandaged. for a moment, her expression was unreadable.

“i don’t know if you remember me,” you said quickly, trying to fill the silence. “we met a couple of weeks ago? i was with my friend ha-neul… oh, i didn’t introduce myself back then. i’m sorry.” you gave her your name, fumbling slightly, before adding, “if it’s okay, i could sign you out. i could even help you get home if you don’t think that’s… too much.”

hyun-ju hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and the receptionist.

in truth, she didn’t know what to think. she was exhausted, in pain, and desperate to leave. and then there was you—the girl who’d sat next to her, the one she couldn’t quite forget. you’d made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“why?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled gently. “why not?”

That’s how you ended up signing the dismissal form for a stranger and climbing into the back of an Uber with her. Hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

You sent a quick text to Ha-Neul: “I had to leave, sorry! Explain later 😘😘.”

As the car pulled away, you glanced at her. She looked out the window, her profile softened by the dim light. You weren’t sure why you’d offered to help. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something more.

And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story.

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willowed-wisp · 6 months ago

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pls do part 2 of gladiator konig 😭🫶🫶🫶

gladiator ( part two ) [ könig ]

I’m glad people have actually been reading, as it’s just random thoughts I have and need to write them out.

Thank you everyone for all of the support! And I hope I did a good job! xx

You despised the measly way of politics, though, that web has spun around your life since you entered the world.

The only reason you tolerated it was because of your beloved… known to all as Rex the centurion… to you…

He was just König.

Your bear and your rock.

Though, he was the greatest stress of your life. He led legions into battle, coming home with a new scar every time. At least he wasn’t a skull on the battlefield.

Communal bathing just wasn’t for you, luckily you had a personal thermae. It allowed your thoughts to dim and your body to de-stress- that’s why König had one much more minimal than the usual installed. No staff or help- it was just you and your husband.

That’s why his fingerprint branded in circles around your centre-point, your body leaning on his; practically laid flat against his solid skin, bearing all aspects of yourself to anyone that dared to walk on. His hand a commanding force on your stomach- keeping you wedged there. “You’re enjoying this…” You spoke amidst your whimpers.

Mouth at your neck- hot breath, “What gave you that impression, sweetness,” A yelp, raw and scratchy, dragged from your essence. König wholly sarcastic and a teasing ass. You had told him as much, hence why you found yourself in that position.

Long since been rock hard against your ass. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging- knowing him all too well. Refusing to whine in desperation. Behind you- coolness eyes you, “Come on, love… you want me inside of you…” Fingers plunged into your pussy- unable to vote down the sound which echoes off tile. Fighting a losing battle against your military husband.

He took that on command, spearing you on him… that singe ripped you apart. Pants bounced around, maybe a few curses. Let alone the noises mused by the gentle brute beneath you.

That’s when you begged him. To go faster, to hit whatever spots you needed… to fuck you like only he managed. You were not his housewife- you were his beloved. Never looking down at him as a glorified slave… upon meeting you he knew you’d never be at his beck and call, that’s why he married you.

Reminded by the feel of your nails digging into his large thighs, reminiscent of that first time together. Followed by that exact sound shattering past your lips, it drove him delirious. “I’ve died and am with your Gods…” Wishing you could capture him in your kiss.

The position didn’t allow you to do that, “Not quite, my General…”

————

You refused to attend the tournies held in the Colosseum. Never forgetting what they had done to König.

Though, you did find time, both of you, to attend those midnight soirées at the old ruins. Wine drunkenness led you to find a nook, away from torchlight and humanity, only to become braced against a crumbled wall. Devoured by your husband’s tongue before taking his size.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise when you missed your monthly cycle, meeting the healer who confirmed you were with child. That scar stroked set of lips had never woven your folds, or suckled your clit the way he did while you were with child. Pussy drunk, not rough and ready, tough hands prizing your legs akimbo. Able to taste yourself on his tongue whenever König smothered you in open-mouthed cherishes.

“My goddess…” Pulling you down to the edge of the bed before deep, calculated strokes tore another orgasm from you.

————

Eight months later, your skin sweating and your baby crying. Mesmerised by the sight was König, standing taller than any presence in that room. Being handed the baby, “General Rex, your son.” Never able to acquaint yourself with the name they enslaved him by. The man you loved through and through- wholeheartedly. Heartbroken when you watched him leave with that same upside down triangles lacquered beneath his eyes.

He never wished for his son to be subjected to the lifestyle he had to engage in.

Despite being marvelled for his ruthless nature and hated for his tactics and physical prowess, König would NEVER harm you- he hadn’t even threatened you before. To you he was a source of protection and would do so until he died. At all costs.

König yearned for something, looking out unto the city from the balcony- to the mighty Roman Empire, “What is it, Kö? What burdens you?” He was overcome by how radiant you looked, his son bundled in fabric. His family.

His head shook, “It’s nothing… I just wish you could have seen my home. Before the Empire invaded…” His middle tense, handing him his son. A smile beamed down to the boy who shared the ice cold stare of his father. “He’s going to have a better life that I have… he won’t be ousted from his home and be expected to fight for his life…” A slither of his heart melted when you brought both of your boys into an embrace.

“You are never going there again. You understand me?” Placing your hand over his hot beating flesh. König was grateful to you.

“You saved my life…” Earnest and tearful as he spoke.

“I think you saved mine…”

————

masterlist

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twirlyleafs · 1 year ago

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”Start of the season-drama” pt2

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: slight angst, raised voices

A/N: thank you sooo much for the support on part one!! doing a lil happy dance because of u xx

~~~~

Max had tried calling you over fifty times the past three days but you refused to answer. You didn’t know if it was because you were still upset with him or because you were just that ashamed, but you couldn’t find it in you to talk to him. You had hope that there was a reasonable explanation for the photos but no matter how hard you tried to come up with one they all ended with you heartbroken. You were terrified Max would confirm any of them.

You read his texts and listened to his voice messages, responding that you’d talk to him when he’d get back. When he threatened to take an early flight, missing the race, you told him he was being dramatic and then you wished him good luck. Max stopped trying to reach you after that.

You had called in sick to work Friday and Saturday, staying home to simultaneously write and watch the qualifying and the race. You weren’t surprised to see Max bring home another win, but you felt bad when you noticed his seemingly bad mood in the post-race interviews. You could just assume you were the reason for the constant frown on his face and the dark circles under his eyes.

Sunday afternoon rolled in and you were restless. The fact that Max would be arriving back home tomorrow was starting to freak you out and you forced yourself to keep busy at all times not to overthink everything more than you already were. Currently you were standing on your tiptoes on one of the bar chairs, dusting the top of the bookshelves that were lining one wall in the living room. It obviously hadn’t been done in years and didn’t necessarily need to be done now either, but it was something to do. You were so caught up in your work that you hadn’t noticed the sound of the front door being unlocked, the bags being dropped on the floor or someone entering the room. Max stopped on the other side of the room, brows furrowed as he took you in. You were wearing one of his shirts, by the look of it one of his oldest ones and he knew you would’ve had to dug deep in the drawers for that one. As you reached the top shelf it rode up enough for him to see that you were wearing a pair of his boxers too and for some reason he melted slightly at the fact that you were dressed all in his clothes.

“Be careful.” You flinched, a gasp leaving your lips as your head spun around to follow the sudden sound. Max eyes widened as you wobbled for a second before regaining your balance and he thanked god he didn’t cause you to fall.

“Max, you’re home already?” You were confused, trying to figure out if your calculations had been wrong. He nodded, having to stop himself from walking over to help you as you climbed down from the chair.

“I took an early flight, left right after the podium.” He paused for a second, feeling the anger he’d felt for the past few days bubbling up again. “Felt a bit stressed to get back here since my girlfriend has been refusing to talk to me.” You bit down on the inside of your cheeks, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Congrats on the win, you were-“ you began, but Max cut you off. He had told himself to keep calm, talk this through, but he felt the plan collapse almost immediately. He couldn’t deny the frustration.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t want a congratulation from you y/n, I want an explanation! I want to know what the fuck happened on Thursday?” His voice was sharp, arms crossed over his chest. You looked away.

“What happened was that I wanted to come see you, but you said no.” You shrugged, the frown on your face deepening.

“I didn’t say no, I said it was unnecessary- that’s not even the issue here. The thing I’m most upset- confused over is you said I had some girl?”

“I saw the pictures Max.” You glared at him, all the hurt and confusion and anger from the past few days coming back. “I saw you with her.“

Max looked even more bewildered than a second ago, flailing his arms out in exasperation. “Who?! What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your fucking date to the banquet!” You exclaimed, raising your voice to match his. “The girl you snuck away with when you didn’t think anyone would see!” Max just stared at you with wide eyes, lips opening and parting in confusion. You, however, took his silence as a sign of guilt. “I get that you’d want a girl who’s willing to follow you everywhere, who’s willing to give up her own life to be your trophy but fuck, Max, I thought you’d at least give me a heads up.”

”I didn’t bring a fucking date to the banquet, where are you getting this from? What fucking photos?”

Without another word you reached for your phone, searching up the tweet that started this whole mess. Zooming in on the photo where he was cupping her cheeks you handed him the phone, crossing your arms over your chest the second he grabbed it from you. Max stared down at the screen, eyebrows going up before they were pushed together. Slowly he looked up at you again.

“Baby-“ he began with a sigh, the apologetic tone of his voice had you assuming he was about to confess to cheating on you. The anger was quickly replaced with hurt and a shockwave of sadness. Suddenly your vision was watery and you took a step back, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Max seemed to understand, quickly shaking his head.

“It’s not what you think, not what it looks like.”

“Oh come on-“ you sniffed, but Max wouldn’t have it.

“No, I get how that sounds but just let me explain. That’s Rebecca, you’ve met her. Tommy’s daughter.” You had to rummaged through your brain for a second before you could place the name. Rebecca was the daughter of one of Redbulls mechanics. You’d met her a few times during races, she was a sweet girl. Your eyes widened slightly.

“Isn’t she like seventeen?”

“Yeah!”

You stared at him, even more chocked than a moment before. Max saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. A shiver ran up his spine at the realization of what you were thinking.

“God no! Not like that. She was at the banquet with Tommy but something happened, I think someone tried to pressure her into drinking and stuff- I met her when I came from the restroom and she was crying so I brought her out, away from everyone.” Max looked down at the photo again, frowning. “Away from the cameras, I thought. She was hyperventilating and I all could think about is when you’re having a panic attack so I did what I do then, I held her and I forced her to breathe with me.” When he looked back up you were already staring at him, lips slightly parted in chock. Max tossed your phone into the couch, taking a careful step closer to you. “That’s it. That’s all that happened. I did what you taught me.”

“God.” You let out a shaky breath, hiding your face behind your hands. Out of all the scenarios you’d constructed over the past few days, none even came close to this. Max hadn’t cheated, he hadn’t even been close to. He’d helped an innocent girl, doing for her what he always did for you when you suffered from anxiety. The guilt was slowly settling in your stomach. Max watched you softly shake your head before you carefully glanced at him between fingers. “Max I’m so sorry.” You saw him visibly relax when he realized you accepted his explanation and a second later he sunk down in the couch, seemingly exhausted. With a deep breath he leaned back, closing his eyes.

“Fuck.” He sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did and why you were so mad and not once did it occur to me that it might’ve been this.” Things were quiet after that. You crawled up on the barstool, pulling your knee to your chest, as Max stayed half laying down in the couch. Leaning your cheek against your knee you watch his chest rise and fall slower and slower. You almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke again. “Did you think I cheated on you?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, making Max open his eyes to look at you. You felt your heart clench at the sad look on his face. “I love you Max, and I know you love me but-“

“But?” He asked softly, moving to sit up properly. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched your through thick lashes. You took a deep breath.

“But sometimes I worry I’m not what you want. I know a lot of the others wife’s and girlfriends come to every race and you know, follow you guys around the world. I would understand if you’d want that too. You’re always talking about how I should quit my job and- well I saw the pictures and I guess all my insecurities came to life and I freaked out. I’m sorry.” You reached up to swiftly wipe away a stray tear and Max frowned. He reached a hand out, waving it as to call you over. You got the hint and slid down from the chair, carefully padding across the floor to him. The second you were within reach he pulled you down in his lap and you could practically feel yourself melt into him. God you’d missed having him close.

“You are everything I want.” Max mumbled against the top of your head and you felt shivers run up your spine. You opened your mouth to answer but quickly shut it again when you felt the lump in your throat, a few tears spilling over as you blinked. Max let his arms snake even tighter around you as he heard you sniff quietly against his chest. “I love how much you value your job and I’m so proud of you for actually being able to handle both studying and working at the same time.” You felt his fingers press softly into your side as he spoke, voice hushed and gentle. “I tell the guys all the time how smart you are, how much I admire you.”

“But I’m never there for you.” You whispered and Max carefully shifted the two of you enough so that he could look down at you. His eyes flickered between yours, hand moving up to wipe your tears.

“You’re always there for me. Maybe not in person, but I always know I have you. Like you always know you have me, right?” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “I can race on my own, just like you work on your own. Whats important to me is that I get to come home to you.” He carefully picked an eyelash from your cheek as you processed his words. When he met your eyes again he offered a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “That being said, if I could I’d spend every second literally glued to your side but apparently that’s not healthy.” You laughed at that and the smile on Maxs face widened. With something between a sigh and a chuckle you dropped your forehead back against his chest.

“I’m sorry again Maxie.” You mumbled against his shirt, feeling it vibrate as he hummed.

“Don’t worry about it schatje.” He pulled you with him to lay down in the couch and it barely took a second before the two of you were comfortably entangled in each other. “Honestly, it was kind of nice seeing you that jealous. It’s an achievement from my part, without even knowing.” He joked, earning another laugh from you as you lifted your head to look at him.

“First place the first two races of the season wasn’t enough achievements for you?”

The grin almost took up Maxs whole face and you giggled at the proud twinkle in his eyes. Before he had time to say something that would have you slap him, you leaned in to press your lips against his instead.

Max was home and everything was alright.

~~~~

Tagging ppl who asked for pt2 <333

@lpab @aexitizen-ln4 @buttfug213 @sxcretricciardo @hadthemapplebottomjeans @sunny44 @phantomxoxo @sunnyfunnydemon

#Max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #verstappen x reader #verstappen #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #redbull #verstappen fanfic #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1

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adoreasellie · 12 days ago

Text

Title: Minor Injuries, Major Distractions

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: After eleven days without seeing each other — and being total losers about it — you end up examining Ellie’s wound again.

Tags: sexual tension, slow burn spark, nurse!Reader, patient!Ellie, soft flirting, subtle attraction, mutual distraction

Previous - currently reading - next

Since you guys loved it I made a part ll bc your wishes are my command.

Don’t hesitate to comment if you wanna be in the taglist!

Kisses bbies xx

It’s been ten days since you saw Ellie.

Ten days since your fingers brushed hers, since you sat on her couch, since she looked at you like maybe — maybe — she was starting to feel it too. You’d left her place with a soft, easy “Text me,” tossed over your shoulder.

But she never did.

And now she’s spiraling.

Ellie hasn’t stopped thinking about you — not once. Not during breakfast, not when she’s drawing, not when she’s scrolling aimlessly on her phone at 2 a.m.

She replays every second from that night. The sound of your laugh. The way you touched her wrist so gently it made her heart stutter. The warmth of your thigh next to hers on the couch.

She’s so embarrassingly obsessed that she made you a playlist. Burned it onto a CD like she’s sixteen again. Drew little doodles on the case — a stitched-up hand, a hospital gown, your initials next to hers in a crooked heart.

She thinks it’s ridiculous. Cute. Cringe.

She thinks she might be in trouble.

Jesse calls. Asks what she’s doing.

She tells him everything — your house call, the drink, the silence that followed. The CD. The doodles. How she thinks about you constantly but can’t bring herself to text first.

“I don’t wanna come on too strong,” she mutters. “I don’t wanna scare her off.”

Jesse snorts. “Ellie. You made her a physical mixtape in 2025. Pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

“Fuck off,” she groans — but she’s smiling.

Then she adds, “I’m seeing her tomorrow anyway. Appointment to get my stitches out.”

The next day, Ellie shows up at the ER with the CD in her jacket pocket, fingers sweaty. She’s nervous — about the appointment, sure, but more about seeing you. About how you’ll react. About whether the silence between you means what she dreads it might.

They lead her into an exam room. She sits on the crinkly paper sheet, bouncing one knee, heart thudding.

The door creaks open.

And it’s not you.

Instead, a tall woman enters — broad-shouldered, sharp-featured, wearing a stern expression that makes Ellie’s stomach drop.

“Uh, hi” Ellie says, blinking. “I… I thought I had an appointment with someone else?”

The woman raises an eyebrow. “She’s out sick. Has been for a few days.”

Sick.

Ellie’s chest goes tight.

You were sick.

And she didn’t text.

Didn’t check in.

Didn’t even know.

And now she’s sitting here like an idiot, holding a stupid CD while some stranger pokes at the wound on her hand. The nurse isn’t exactly cruel, but she’s brisk, clinical, and definitely not you. Not the you who murmured “does this hurt?” like she actually cared. Not the you who smiled like you knew something Ellie didn’t.

She stares at the ceiling while the sutures come out, trying to keep her breathing steady.

She fucked this up. She knows it.

You’re curled on the couch, feverish, miserable, and a little heartbroken.

The past few days have been a haze of sleep, cold sweats, and soup you were too tired to finish. But somewhere under the layers of blankets, tissues, and self-pity, you kept waiting. Waiting for a buzz. A name. A sign that maybe she hadn’t forgotten.

But she didn’t write.

And now you’re here, cursing your own feelings for getting this deep, for giving her that much space in your thoughts.

Until your phone vibrates.

Your breath catches.

You grab it too fast — like a teenager, like an idiot — and there it is.

When you were at her place, Ellie had saved your contact as « craving not a crush ».

You’d almost forgotten she saved your name like that. Almost.

You open the message,

hey. just got my stitches out. don’t totally trust the scary nurse — any chance you could double check them?

also… i heard you were sick.

and… i wanna see you.

For a second, you just stare at the screen. You reread it four times. You don’t even realize your hand is shaking.

Then your jaw clenches — not with anger, just with the weight of it all. The way your chest tightens. The way something hot and helpless starts blooming behind your eyes.

You waited eleven days.

You’re sick.

You’ve felt like shit.

And still, stupidly, you wanted this.

You type back fast, no games.

finally… come over. [address]

Ellie parks across the street and almost chickens out twice.

Your apartment is cute, tucked into a downtown corner with ivy climbing the railing. She clutches the CD like it’s a shield, checks her reflection in the rearview, mutters, “Don’t fuck this up,” under her breath.

She knocks.

The door opens.

You’re there — flushed cheeks, messy bun, bare legs under an oversized T-shirt. You look exhausted. You look real. You look so beautiful it makes her heart stumble.

She stares at your thighs. You raise an eyebrow.

“I’d kiss you,” you croak, voice rough from your cold, “but I’m sick. And after eleven days of silence… not sure you deserve it.”

Ellie blushes so hard her ears burn.

“I made you something,” she says, fumbling for the CD.

You take it. Thumb the little drawings. See the initials. The crooked heart. Your lips twitch.

“You know,” you murmur, “we could use this on the wedding invites.”

Ellie laughs, breathless, like she might combust. She swears the room is getting hotter.

You pad over to your CD player, press play, and gesture to the couch. She sits, legs buzzing, palms clammy, heart hammering.

You glance at her.

Soft smile. Sad eyes.

“It was about time,” you say. “I thought I almost had to turn the page.”

—————————————————————————

Guys i’m tagging ppl who commented on part l but feel free to ask for me to remove you !!!

Taglist! @wwefan2002 @jtoddsangel

#ellie x reader #the last of us #ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #writers on tumblr #nurse reader #loser ellie #lgbtq #lesbian #lesbians

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inevesgf · 1 year ago

Text

SOCIAL MEDIA⠀,⠀ chris dixon.

synopsis ✩ a walk through of your social media presence! inspired by @mrstelevision mwahh

face - claim: the LOVELY courtney eaton

authors note: first social media au <3 let me know what you guys think of it, reblogs are appreciated!

liked by chrismd, arthurtv and 900K others

youruser from the stands to the pitch, guess being in all those chrismd videos benefited me after all! — tagged sidemen and bambinobecky.

taliamar was rooting for you the whole time xx

youruser the kiss i blew at the camera was for u xx

xotbjzl MOTHER MOTHERED I LOVE YOU

chrismd youre telling me being in my amazing presence doesn’t benefit you? i’m heartbroken

youruser 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

chrismd youre so mean to me

xixlibs please just kiss already

theobaker best player on the pitch, besides me

youruser this is why you got injured

w2ksi y.n here bullying everyone and i am so here for it

liked by arthurhill, callux and 849K others

youruser a not-so-aesthetic photo dump (chris ruins it) — tagged chrismd, theburntchip and taliamar

bambinoyn they are so in love i can’t explain it

chrismd love you too ❤️

youruser 😚

wroetomd i know theyre joking but im holding on to CRUMBS. ok??????

taliamar peep us being wasted af in the first pic

youruser oops..

arthurtv tag yourself. im the dog

youruser that you are! 😊

geenelly arthurtv disstrack when?????

liked by miniminter, calfreezy and 865K others

youruser so lucky to b apart of your beautiful day 🤍 heres uk youtubes royal wedding on film x — tagged taliamar, calfreezy, polaroid and theburntchip

taliamar love you beyond comprehension 🤍🤍

youruser the most beautiful bride ever xx

freyanightingale most beautiful photos ever 😍

theburntchip freezy and i are such stunners

calfreezy Real mate

xixjzl everyone looked so good :,)

chrismd what a handsome devil .. and then there’s freezy and chip ..

talsmar4ever HELLO??? HELLO?? CHRISYN NATION ARE WE SEEING THIS???

xodixon WE ARE WHAT THE FUCK

liked by arthurtv, calfreezy and 799K others

youruser ski trip shenanigans 🎿 — tagged chrismd, calfreezy, willne, wroetoshaw and arthurtv

calfreezy you slayed on the slopes

youruser please NEVER say slay again, but thank u ☺️

w2love harry lookin TOO fine

chrismdlvr SO MUCH CHRIS LATELY they HAAVEE to be together i swear

chrismd can ski better than me

youruser yeah it’s because you’re not tall enough to ski, the skis are too far apart for you x

xow2s yeah girl you tell him

bambinobecky where was my invite!!

youruser youre lucky you weren’t there, i had to share a room with arthur and he smells like shit

arthurtv EXCUSE ME??!??

youruser love u ☺️

liked by chrismd, zerkaa and 932K others

youruser having one shell of a good time in croatia

hrtzerkaa THIS HASSS TO BE A HARD LAUNCH

calfreezy bunch of studs on a boat

theobaker your puns are terrible

youruser almost as bad as your sun burn?

chrismd she tried to drown me

youruser yeah with my love and affection duhhh

whiped4lewis OK EVERYONE STAY CALM

obsessedwyn OH MY GOD????

taliamar twitter will have fun with this one!

youruser you know it ;)

479 notes · View notes

myysaints · 2 years ago

Text

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ JUST MY LUCK ─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — in which lando starts flirting with a (not-so-)random girl on the internet.

genre — social media au, fc hannah kae

notes — kinda disappointing finish to yesterday's gp :( but to make up for that here's something simple & cute !!! churned this one out in one day bc by god i love that little frog man with my whole heart. tbh this is just a shameless self insert ..... also rewrote history a tad bit by making lando finish on the podium at monaco because why not LOL hope u enjoyyyy xx

lando.jpg

Liked by bambiyn, pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 1,724,882 others

lando.jpg Monaco, I’m ready for ya.

view all 884,281 comments

bambiyn and i’m ready for u !!!!!!!

bambiyn talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular…

bambiyn why am i sweating rn

bambiyn goddamn

bambiyn my fav driver everyone !!!!!!

bambiyn my dms (and legs) r open btw 😁😁

Liked by lando.jpg yourbestfriend Y/N OH MY GOD…. THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP… bambiyn …ok… and? user yo wtf lando liked????

danielricciardo Lando I love you but not as much as that girl in the comments

bambiyn ok i feel called out danielricciardo Oh, hey there! bambiyn HIIII!!!!!

bambiyn added to their story!

Seen by landonorris, yourbestfriend, danielricciardo, and 72,001 others

bambiyn

Liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 34,129 others

bambiyn yeah ok so monaco’s kinda cool

view all 2,914 comments

user marry me

user didn’t know angels existed until i saw you 😩

user mother is in monaco!!!!

yourbestfriend “kinda cool” … says the girl who freaked out literally every 5 steps we took because “oh my god look at that car”

bambiyn the cars here are sick okay idk what u want from me !

landonorris only kinda?

bambiyn maybe if u finish on the podium on sunday… then it’d be cooler user LMFAOOOOO y/n never misses

landonorris But welcome to Monaco 🙃

bambiyn thank uuuuu!!! user girlie hit him with the five u’s GET UP Y/N

bambiyn added to their story!

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landonorris reacted with ❤️

f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates Submitted by Anon ❤️ Looks like things are heating up in Monaco for Lando Norris! He was spotted last night on a dinner date with a mystery woman. A source close to the McLaren driver tells us that he is “very very content” in his new relationship, and is “excited to take on this weekend with her by his side”. As for who Lando’s secret lover is, we have it on good authority that, though she is a public figure, she is nowhere near her beau’s status of fame. Follow for more updates on all things wag-related 🏎

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user arms…. hand placement…. RAHGRFGAHFRH

user god i wish that were me 😩

user someone check up on bambiyn… ik shes heartbroken rn

bambiyn my world is literally collapsing as i type this

bambiyn damn 💔

bambiyn so that’s how it be then 😭😭

yourbestfriend heartbreak. betrayal.

bambiyn like damn i really thought i was the one 😔 user LMFAOOO girl ur hilarious

bambiyn added to their story!

Seen by yourbestfriend, mclaren, francisca.cgomes, and 114,819 others

www.youtube.com/Formula1

POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH LANDO NORRIS | MONACO GRAND PRIX 2023

bambiyn

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🏷 landonorris, lando.jpg

bambiyn thanks people magazine for finally letting me post my man. happy 5 months to my prince charming!! ♡ ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა xx

view all 1,138,004 comments

landonorris Best 5 months of my life

landonorris You make my heart hurt silly

landonorris my forever girl

danielricciardo You’re too good for him Y/N!!!

bambiyn ikr… user get off your high horse smh youre nothing special he’ll dump u in a week landonorris Yk I can read your comments right? Don’t be a fucking prick in my girl’s comment section. user “my girl’s comment section” im gonna go feral

user hey god it’s me again…

georgerussell63 Great meeting you Y/N! You two make a great couple 👍

landonorris Mate what is with you and typing like youre 50 years old

landonorris

Liked by bambiyn, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 5,216,802 others

🏷 bambiyn

landonorris 5 marvellous months with the missus ❤️ To my sweetheart, I love you dummy. I love you and your weird little keyboard face things. i love the little hop you do whenever you see something you like. The way you always smell like cotton candy and clouds and vanilla and cookies. How you laugh at all my jokes even when theyre kinda shit. The fact you still don’t know how to drive stick shift (drives me crazy but anyways). Thank you for being mine baby, here’s to a million more 5 months with you 🥂

view all 2,475,900 comments

danielricciardo aww thanks babe

landonorris 💀💀 danielricciardo But on a serious note, I’m so happy for you guys. You got a good thing going bro 👊 landonorris Sure do mate

bambiyn a million kisses for u when u get home (´꒳`)♡

landonorris eagerly looking forward landonorris (❤ω❤) landonorris Did i do it right bambiyn YESSSS !!!! proud of u baby hehe ur so cute landonorris >:)

user we still don’t know what that crazy night was abt lol

bambiyn omg yeah thank u for reminding me !

bambiyn added to their story!

Seen by landonorris, yourbestfriend, danielricciardo, and 1,994,012 others

landonorris reacted with 😳

BONUS:

You have [1] unread message.

[4:21 PM] vroom vroom baby: I saw your recent insta story.... 😉😉

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: mmhmmmmm

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: and what about it…?

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: nothing it was

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: It was perfect

[4:25 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just…

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: justttt?

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just that I was thinking

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: If u wanted ofc

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: We could

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: recreate it…

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: ?

[4:31 PM] dummy ❤️: is this ur way of asking me to come over

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: 🥺

[4:31 PM] vroom vroom baby: no….

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: ok yes

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: i’ll be over in 5 !!!

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: See you soon gorgeous

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: tsch

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: you spoil me

[4:38 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just speaking the facts 💯

#lando norris x reader #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #lando norris social media au #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🏁] formula 1

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beth-yeet365 · 9 months ago

Text

"I just wanna be close to you" - JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Fem!Reader

Summary: To celebrate the group graduating high school, the Routledge siblings go the bonfire party on the beach and Y/N Routledge decides to confront her long time crush and best friend, JJ Maybank.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (underage) and some deep pining (which may lead to some mild angst and a fight but it ends well).

Author's notes and disclaimers: Yay, my first JJ Maybank fic! In this one, the reader is a year younger than the rest of the group. This is a lyric based fic based on Close to you by Gracie Abrams because I feel like it's so JJ coded. Hope you like it.

requests are open / my masterlists / obx masterlist

Stay beautiful xx

I don't got a single problem with provocative See the bodies how they burn it's just the way it is

You and the rest of the pogues are at a bonfire party on the back to celebrate the high school graduation and everybody was having a great time. Everybody but you. The rest of your friend group are off finding love for the night with either their respective significant others or a stranger while you are stuck on the sidelines feeling lonely, sad, and heartbroken you couldn't be with the boy you like.

John B is off mackin' on Sarah. They are getting very serious all of a sudden and you are so happy for them. You had all been through so much together as a group and their relationship had definitely suffered. Now that things had calmed down they seemed to be going steady and stable. You can almost hear the wedding bells.

Pope and Cleo are cuddling by the bonfire, Kiara chatting it up with some random touron, and JJ was back to his old ways. Everybody seems to be happy with how things are. Everyone except you.

You are standing outside, looking in at the party. Especially at that blonde haired boy who had stolen your heart but now it feels like he is stomping on it with the way he is smiling and smirking at all the girls who are fawning around him. They are probably all hoping they can be the lucky one to go home with him tonight. He certainly looks like he is considering the pretty brunette who is practically undressing him with her eyes.

The worst part about the whole ordeal is that they are gonna be in JJ's room at the Chateau which means you'll be able to hear them.

After all, the walls are very thin.

It's not like anything will happen between you guys. He is not only your brother's best friend but yours too. You and John B have always been very close since there is only a year between you, you being the younger one. Because of this, it meant his friends became your friends and his best friend was your best friend. The best friend being JJ Maybank.

No, you were forever stuck on the sidelines admiring him from afar.

Smoky, dark, crowded room, I need nothing Under pink light in June I was so cool but then, all of a sudden You saw me look at you

The sight of JJ with all those girls makes you lose all desire to party. You don't want to go and damper the moods of everyone else so you stuck to yourself. You decide to get yourself a beer though you don't need it. Your feelings so confusing you feel disoriented enough.

You go back to your old look-out. You notice the sunset turning the sky a lovely pink colour. Watching the party before you, the silhouettes of people dancing and talking in the smoke from the bonfire.

You hear a familiar laugh making you turn your gaze back onto the blonde haired boy. He is laughing at something the brunette girl said. Ignoring the pang in your heart, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach whenever he smiles. Even if it is directed at another girl. His laugh is always so melodious and makes you weak in the knees. The pink light from the setting sun making him even more beautiful as if that is even possible.

JJ thought he could feel someone's gaze on him. He knew straight away who it was. He turns around to lock eyes with you.

Oh, no. You're caught. You must've been staring for a while. You can feel your heart start to race and your entire body heating up. The girl is gone and he is all alone. He flashes you one of his genuine smiles. It's one of the rare times he actually smiles and you can't help but smile back, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes the same way his does. He gives you a quizzicial look as if to ask what's wrong?. You continue to stare at each other from across the beach until the pretty brunette appears again making any semblance of a smile disappear and you avert your gaze. You move away from your spot so you're not in direct sight of him. You find an old, fallen tree trunk and sit down.

You huff in disappointment and down the rest of the beer, adding to the bitter taste in your mouth.

I burn for you And you don't even know my name If you asked me to I'd give up everything

Sarah can tell something is up with you whenever she looks over at where you're sitting. You always love a good party on the beach but you've had this constant frown on your face the whole time. Going to the party was your idea after all.

John B and Sarah have joined Pope and Cleo by the bonfire and are talking and laughing something or other but Sarah can't help but look at you. You look so sad and she already knows why. Everyone can see it but them. The rest of the group talk about when neither of you are around.

"Hey, I gonna get something to drink. Anybody want anything?" she asked the group.

"Uh, sure, a beer could be nice, babe." John B said and kissed her cheek.

"Pope, Cleo, you guys want anything?"

"No, thanks Sarah." Pope politely declined.

"I'll help ya, Sarah, I want something too." Cleo said and they both stand up and leave to go to the drinks table. They pour their drinks and on the way back to the guys Sarah sees you again and stops Cleo.

"Actually I'll join you guys in a bit. I'm gonna go talk to Y/N she looks so sad." Sarah says. "Can you take John B's drink back to him?"

"Yeah, sure, is it the JJ thing again?" Cleo asks her. Sarah hands her John B's drink and she accepts it with her empty hand.

"I think so. I think she just needs someone to talk and I can't bear to look at her sad face."

Cleo nods in agreement and promises to come over later. They split and Sarah approaches you. You hear steps coming closer and turn and find Sarah. You give her a small smile before turning back around watching the scene before you.

"Is it JJ again?" She asks you gently, not beating around the bush.

"No! You tell her a little too quickly. She gives you a knowing look. "Yes..." you saying, having turned sheepish under her look.

"You do know he likes you too?"

"No, I don't know! I just- I just like him but it's clear nothing will ever happen when things are the way they are."

"Oof, Mini Routledge, that sounds like some angsty boy trouble you got yourself there." Cleo says as she appears as if from out of nowhere, giving you the biggest fright. "It's obvious to everyone that you're both pining for each other so do something about it so we can all be happy."

"Everyone but that brunette gettin' ready to pounce any second now." You sulk. The groups of bodies have moved so JJ and girl is back in in your direct line of sight. "Sorry, girls, I don't wanna damper the mood. You're supposed to be celebrating! You've graduated... and left me behind in that god forsaken school."

"Hey, chin up, JJ will realise what's in front of him, okay?" Sarah assures you, rubbing your back. "You just need to knock some sense into him if he won't do it himself."

"Sure, right, I'll go do that if he can even remember my name with how much he's been drinking."

"No, Y/N, he hasn't even touched a drop of alcohol," Sarah tells you off. "Stop your moping and do something about things if you want to change." She has a veyr maternal tone and you almost shrink at the sound of it. Sarah has become like a big sister since she and John B got together. Well, it took some getting used at first since she was the kook princess of the island but you became fast friends and she is practically your sister-in-law now.

"Hey!" Your big brother shouts, grabbing your attention as he approaches your little group with Pope right behind him. "What's up with the frowns? We're supposed to have fun!"

He slings an arm around your shoulder, making him spill his beer on your shoes. Nice one, JB.

"Nothing, just not feeling in the mood to party." You tell him.

"But it was your idea! C'mon, Y/N/N, lighten up for your big brother, please?" He begs you, his breath smelling like beer.

"No, JB, just- just leave me alone okay?" You ask him and shrug off his arm and remove yourself from the group.

They watch as you walk away from the party altogether and sit down in the sand. You pull your knees up to your chest and take out your phone from the backpocket of your shorts.

And now your mouth is moving, cinematic timing You pull me in and touch my neck and now I'm dying

*FLASHBACK: 1.5 YEARS AGO*

"They were askin' for it, John B!" JJ shouts at your brother.

"They're always asking for it JJ! But if you don't learn how to control yourself there won't be any jobs left because you got fired from every single on of them. Did you ever think about that?"

Typical JB, always trying to knock some sense into JJ. It's common knowledge that JJ's a hothead and tends to turn to violence which more often than not lands him in trouble. Most often than not with the law.

You can't hear the rest of the conversation. You have just woken up from a nap in the hammock after a hard day at work. Your boss is always on your ass about something even though you work even harder than your co-workers to prove that you deserve the job despite being from The Cut.

The hot and humid sun is hitting your face just right, making you wanna close your eyes again. You were about to fall asleep again when the screen door bursts open, slamming against the wall and makes you almost fall out of the hammock. JJ stops in his tracks when he sees you.

"Oh, hi, Y/N. Sorry if I woke ya." He scratches his neck and stands in front of you awkwardly.

"It's okay. Can't sleep the whole day away anyway. Get fired form another job?"

"Yeah, it's nothing. The boss was a jerk anyway." He brushes it off.

"That black eye and split lip don't look like nothing." You tell him and sit up and pat the space next to you. "Sit down, will ya?"

He does what you ask but avoids your eyes, suddenly very bashful.

"I know a little something about jerks for bosses." You tell him.

"Oh, yeah? Your boss on your ass again? Think you're too young to have trouble with your boss." He tries to lighten the mood.

"I think we're all too young to have these problems." You sigh. There's a beat of silence. He doesn't know how to respond to that but he knows it's true.

"John B's only looking out for you, you know?" You speak again. "You're his best friend, J. Ever since Dad went missing he's just been so angry at everything and everyone."

JJ gets a soft look in his eyes. It's not a topic that comes up often. With Big John gone lots of things have changed and tension has risen within the group.

"How're you doing with all of that?" He asks you.

"Meh," you shrug. "I try to be there for JB but he's just in this pissy mood all the time and it doesn't help that we have the DCS on our asses."

"And who's there to look after you, huh? I don't like the idea of you carrying the weight of it all by yourself." You look him in the eyes. He's gotten very serious all of a sudden. You almost never see JJ this serious. Not even when he talks about his dad. "You can always talk to me, Y/N." He says sincerely and grabs your hand with his. "I promise to try to cheer you up. You can even hit me if you're real angry, I can take it. Jus' so you don't end up hitting your boss or John B when they piss you off. I give you full permission."

That makes you laugh and he laughs with you, happy to make you smile again.

"Now there's that smile, Mini Routledge." He smirks at you, already knowing the reaction he'll get out of you.

"Ugh, you know I hate that name, JJ!" You repimand him and slap his shoulder.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist but good God, woman! Your slaps are lethal." He says and rubs his shoulder with a giggle and you can't help but giggle with him,

"I didn't slap you that hard." You say and shake your head at him. "You're just a drama queen."

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to the now permanent hand print I'm gonna have on my shoulder for all of eternity."

You look into each other's eyes, the only sound around you the crickets and cicadas. When the eye contact gets a little too intense you look away and fan your face saying something about the heat and the sun.

"Here, let me help you." He says. He gathers your hair in his hands and moves it away from your neck and over to your shoulder. One of his hands lingers by your neck though making your do these weird palpitations and your stomach feel like a swarm of butterflies have been let loose. You could've died happily in that moment. You look up into his eyes again and you both start to lean in until...

"JJ! Could you come here for a sec?!" Your lovely big brother shouts from inside the house, interrupting the moment.

JJ moves away and sighs. He gets up without so much as looking back at you while you try to calm your racing heart and shaky hands.

That was the time you realised you had a crush on JJ.

Little did you know you were gonna end up falling in love with him...

You should be mine for life, I'll be signing Every dotted line Chemical override, ultraviolet You could be mine tonight

*BACK TO REAL TIME*

John B excuses himself from the group you left to go and talk to you. He dumps the rest of his cup on the way, figuring he doesn't need anymore alcohol in his system for the conversation you're about to have. He isn't blind. He can clearly see the affection and attraction you hold for each other. The whole best friend and little sister mackin' on each other might be a weird thought but it's one he can get over. He never gave the talk to JJ or Pope about staying away from you. You are your own person and can make decisions for yourself which he deeply respects. He only wants you to be happy and find someone who makes you just as happy as Sarah makes him. Even if it is JJ.

He plops down beside you. You turn off your phone in acknowledgement and rest your head on your knees and stare out at the ocean.

"So," he starts, filling the silence between you. You're sitting far enough away from the party that the music was significantly lower and you guys talk at a normal volume. "You ready to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" You mumble. You can feel him looking at you but you continue to stare at the waved crashing up on the shore and rolling back out.

"What happened back there, your sulky mood, or your love for JJ Maybank? Take your pick." He says, leaving you stunned. "Though, they're all jus' a chain reaction of you loving him and doing nothing about it."

"You know?!"

"Of course, I know, Y/N!" He answers, exasperated at your ignorance. "I wasn't born yesterday. Don't think you can it from me. I'm your big brother. Everybody knows it's so damn obvious."

"Everybody knows? Even JJ?" You ask him quietly, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"On some level maybe," he shrugs. "But he certainly loves you too, squirt."

"He does?" You get this hopeful look in your eye at his statement.

"Definitely!" He almost shouts. "He may not have said it to me because, you know, I am your big brother and he's my best friend, but the way he looks at you just gives it away."

You're silent for a minute, mulling it all over, but then the same thoughts roll back into your mind. You get frustrated again with all of your reservations about starting a relationship with him and your insecurities.

"But it'll never work, John B."

"Why not, Y/N?" He tries but he is getting tired of your persistence on the matter.

"Bec- because..." You stutter but are interrupted by your brother.

"Because what?!" He asks in frustration. "Y/N, you'll never know until you try." He tells you, his voice softer this time around. You lean your head against his shoulder and he leans his on top of yours.

"It's just..." You start and sigh before you continue. "He's your best friend. He's my best friend. I just don't want to mess anything with the group or our friendship up. And your friendship too. Ugh, it's just too complicated." You finish and he lifts his head at this.

"Let me tell you one thing and I want you to look at me." He tells you and you do as he says. "Don't worry about the rest of us. Do what you wanna do and be with who you wanna be. I don't want to stand in the way of you neither does the rest of the group. You make your own decision we will just have to roll with it and if it doesn't work, well, so what? At least you tried and got some good memories out of it." He smiles and wipes some hair away that got in your eyes. "That doesn't mean it won't be weird to see my best friend who's older than my baby sister kissing and being all cute and couple-y together but I will just have to deal."

You smile at his words. He raised you most of the time. With your mum gone and your dad being sort of absent, it was left to John B to do most of the raising. Luckily, he didn't turn out so bad. You lean your head back on his shoulder and he throws an arm around yours as you fall into another beat of silence.

"I'll marry him one day, JB" you tell him honestly, his head flipping back up you swear it looked like he got whiplash.

"Geez, squirt, you're a bit young to think about that, aren't you?"

"Well you unofficially married Sarah while stuck on a boat after we thought you were dead."

"Touché, Y/n, touché." He admires your retort.

He stands up and offers his hands to help you up as well. You dust off the sand on your shorts and give him the biggest hug which he returns. You release each other after a while. He's got a big dopey smile on his face either from the alcohol in his system or the feeling of cheering up his little sister and helping two of his favourite people get together. Or maybe a mixture of both.

"You're the best big brother in the world, you know that?" You tell him.

"I'm your only brother." He deadpans.

"Well, I have no one to compare you to so you'll always be the best in my book." You reply and give him another hug and he kisses your temple.

"Go get him." He says as he releases you and sends you off.

Adrenaline overrides all rational thoughts that were holding you back and walk over to him. It's more like a march because you're so determined. After all, you've had a crush on him for a year and a half now, and maybe more. You tap his shoulder three times and he turns around but he is not so surprised that it's you, your lovely and alluring perfume that makes him weak in the knees alerting him of your presence.

"Hey J, can we talk?" you ask him. Voice slightly shaking from the adrenaline in your system. You clear your throat and avoid his gaze.

"Sure thing, Mini Routledge, what do you wanna talk about?" he says with the a small smile and that amused look in his eyes.

"You ready to go home, Maybank?" The pretty brunette emerges again with a seductive look in her eyes.

You feel your stomach drop, all of the confidence that had been building up on the way over here vanished into thin air.

"Forget it, JJ, seems like you have enough on your plate already." You say to him, angry at him but even more angry at yourself because you thought you could finally tell him how you felt and even angrier that you thought you could actually be together. You turn and march away from the pair.

"Y/Nn wait!" JJ shouts after you but you ignore him.

He decides to leave the girl and follow you...

I burn for you And you don't even know my name If you asked me to I'd give you everything

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," you reprimand yourself. "Of course, nothing could ever happen."

You weave through the dancing bodies and continue walking even though you've managed to escape the group of people. You walk as fast as you can in the sand which isn't that fast. You can hear JJ's frantic shouts but you just wanna get away.

"Y/N, stop!" He shouts. "Please just slow down. Tell what's wrong!" He pleads with you.

You shake your head, all your insecurities filling your mind making you feel awful all over again.

Somehow, JJ manages to catch with you. He grabs your wrist in an attempt to get you to slow down and talk to him. You shake his hand off and turn around to face him.

"Just leave me alone, okay?!" You all but shout at him.

"No, not until you tell me what's wrong!" He says which makes you turn back around again.

"Well, that's not happening anytime soon so you can go back to your new girl of the night and do what you always do because then you'll finally leave me alone." You tell him with a bitter tone in your voice.

"Hey, that's none of your business!" He replies, getting mad now.

"It is when we live in the same place with very thin walls so we can all hear just how good you'll be making that girl feel." You spit your venom at him, making him stop in his tracks while you continue your walk away from him. You're not sure why you're so angry at him. You were the one who decided to go and talk to him which left you with this empty pit in your stomach.

"C'mon, that's not fair, Y/N," He tells you, close to giving up now. "What's this all about?"

"Nothing!"

"Well, clearly there's a reason 'cause you'd never say that sorta stuff normally. We're best friends." He waves his arms around as he says this. This makes you stop up. You turn around and walk back towards him until you're right in front of him.

"I like you, okay?!" You shout in his face, stunning him. "I. Like. You. But it seems like I just missed my chance so excuse me if I'm not really in a chatty mood and just wanna be left alone."

He doesn't say anything. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. You shake your head at him and walk away again. You don't get very far again because he shouts after you.

"So what you like me? I like you too!" He shouts. You walk back towards him so you're face to face and stare into his beautiful crystal blue eyes.

"No, JJ, I burn for you, okay?! I'd drop everything for you, I'd give you everything and more if I could but I'd never meet the standards of those girls." You tell him honestly, getting to the root of all your insecurities. "I'll forever be Mini Routledge and that's fine, it's cool you don't need to worry about me I'll just go home and leave you alone with her."

You try to walk away again but he grabs your wrist and this time you can't shake him loose. He swings you back around so you're chest to chest, yours still heaving from your rant.

"You're so much more than just Mini Routledge to me, Y/N. You always seem to brighten my day even when it seems to be the darkest and all you have to do is smile at me. You could break my heart a million times or start the biggest forest fire there ever was and I'd defend you till the end of time. You're everything to me, okay? I don't want to lose you so don't-..." He sighs. He releases your wrist and pushes your hair away from your face. You look into his eyes, the amused look gone and replaced by a determined one.

"Just don't push me away." He begs.

And then, he kissed you.

To be close to you Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when me met I wanna be close to you Break my heart and start a fire you got me overnight Just let me be close to you

Like pulling the trigger on a gun, the tension was between you and JJ was released and replaced with something else. Passion. You've been waiting for this moment longer than you realise because like pulling the trigger on a gun, the tension was between you and JJ was released and replaced with something else. Passion. JJ was kissing you and you loved every second of it. You were so shocked that you didn't know what to do with your hands. His hands moved from your hair down to your waist and yours found their place on his chest. You both got lost in the feel of it. The feel of JJ's lips on yours, the feel of JJ giving your bottom lip a salacious bite to open your mouth and welcome his tongue. The feel of JJ liking you back.

You pulled away when you both ran out of air. He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in for a hug while your arms wrap around his neck, one of your hands getting lost in his blonde locks. His head dips down to where your shoulder meets your neck and starts kissing your skin, lightly sucking and licking which is definitely not helping to slow your heart and breathing.

"I want to be close to you..." You almost whisper, still out of breath. "I just want you, J."

"Well, I'm right here." He pauses his kisses to reply. "You have me now and I'm all yours." He continues his lovely attack on your neck, finding a spot that makes you weak and a sound you've never heard come out of your mouth before. That's when he stops, making you want to whine in protest but he kisses your lips again. This time slower, and it isn't filled with the same tension as before. It isn't the same makeout session as before but sweeter and filled with affection. You pull away from him this time.

"What do ya say... Wanna get outta here?" You ask him.

"Geez, Mini Routledge, way to make this freaky." He jokes and you slap his chest, unable to wipe that goofy smile off your face. He smiles with you. He loves being the reason of your smile.

"By the way, if you wanna have sex with me, you gotta stop calling me Mini Routledge." You warn him albeit with the same smile.

"Can't make no promises since I just love to see that annoyed look on your face. It's so cute." He teases, the same amused glint in his eyes he always has. "But yes, I'd love to get out of here."

"Great, I'll tell John B and meet you back here." You tell him and almost run back to the group you abandoned earlier. You approach John B specifically, knowing if you didn't say you were leaving without letting him know he would launch a whole search party.

"Hey, we're gonna split." You tell and kiss his cheek in goodbye. "I'll see you at home."

"So I take it everything worked out between you two?" He asks.

"How'd you know?!" You gasp.

"Well you did say we're," he starts but a knowing, amused grin works onto his face. "But also the red spot on your neck right about there," he prods a finger at the sensitive spot. "Which I think will most likely turn into a nice blue and purple hickey during the night." He laughs at your mortified expression as you grip your neck where he pointed before. "Tell JJ I'll talk to him tomorrow. Love ya, sis."

"Love you too, bro." Tell him and walk away with a smile on your face until John B shouts.

"I better find you in separate rooms when I get home!" To which you respond with flipping him off and Sarah is no doubt slapping his chest and scolding him.

When you reach JJ, he throws an arm around your shoulder and you walk away from the party happening behind you.

"John B wants to talk to you tomorrow." You tell him.

"Oh no, what did you say to him?" He whines, making you giggle.

"Nothing I swear!" You reply, but can't help the smile creeping onto your face.

"Oh, you swear, huh?" He grins, and pokes at your waist. Your most ticklish place. "That smile says different."

"No, I swear, JJ!" You can't help but giggle from his tickles, trying to get out of the hold his arm has around your shoulder.

"Guess I'm gonna have to tickle it outta ya then." He says as he continues his attack on your waist.

"Well, you'll have to catch me first!" You laugh and finally wiggle free from his hold and run away from him.

"Oh, you're on, Mini Routledge!" He shouts and speeds after you.

You race each other back to the Chateau. There, you embrace again in a heated kiss and tumble inside. You disobeyed John B's half-serious order and went straight for your bed. He added some extra hickies to the one he left on the beach though some of them would be naturally covered up by your clothes. You even left some on him.

The night was filled with love and ecstasy and when you woke up in the morning to sun beaming in through the curtains and a shirtless JJ in your bed with an arm around your waist you couldn't help the silly grin that etched its way onto your face.

You let out a quiet giggle, so happy you couldn't help it. You turn around in JJ's arms and realise he's only half sleeping.

"What's so funny?" He asks in a deep, groggy morning voice that sends chills down your spine despite the warmth of the sun.

"Nothing, J." You sigh in contentment. "Everything's perfect." You tell and kiss his forehead.

"Good," he says and kisses your lips. "Now go back to sleep."

#jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank one shot

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