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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

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I am an adult pt. 2

Hi. So this is part 2 to I am an adult. I already had an idea that I wanted to do another part but thank you to the Anon who gave me a good idea for it. I hope you enjoy it. <3

Barca Femeni x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

TW: Angst

Word Count: 4k

Description: R realises she might not be as adult as she things she is

Everything was wonderful for the first few weeks after they came to your house. They calmed down, and you calmed down. It was great. But something felt … off. They stopped treating you like a child. Which is what you wanted, right? You had asked for this. You had asked them to stop policing your actions and criticising you. You wanted this. Then why did it feel so wrong?

You didn't go crazy; you continued your life as it always had been; movie nights with Patri, dinner with Pina, coffee with Ona. Everything was totally and completely normal. Except you no longer came home to text messages asking about your location or concerns over your safety. You no longer had Lucy reminding you about your weekly food shop that needed to match your nutritional needs. You no longer had Alexia helping you fill out your official government documents. You no longer had Marta and Caro texting you about your upcoming schedules. You no longer had Paños checking to ensure you were up at the correct times. Your safety net had slipped away, and you were dangling in the middle of open water without anyone to catch you.

But this was entirely of your own making. You didn't realise it, but you had failed to apologise to them. You had failed to act like the adult you thought you were and own up to your actions. They didn't realise it either, not consciously anyway, until a few days later. Paños watched you from the corner of her eye, goofing off with Mapi when she got a sour taste in her mouth. Ingrid had approached her to apologise for her behaviour when she snapped at them. The adult thing to do.

"Hey, Ale?" Paños caught Alexia's elbow, stopping her from moving away. "Did Y/N ever apologise to you? For shouting in the changing rooms?" Alexia frowned. No, you hadn't. You had shouted at her in front of your colleagues, your friends, and you hadn't said a word. Never mind that she was your captain. You yelled at someone in public when they only tried to help. And never said sorry. She shook her head. Sandra hummed and began making discreet enquiries about whether you had apologised to anyone else; over the past few months, you had been rude to all of them. Even Ingrid and Mapi when they had expressed concern over you going out for the third night in a row. They had all apologised to you, recognising their own faults with the extreme actions they had around you. But you didn't extend the same courtesy to them. The older teammates pulled back even further, annoyed with your behaviour and lack of ownership over them – again, it was something you weren't aware of, too busy in your bubble of newfound freedom.

Over the next three months or so, you were finding things increasingly more difficult. At first, it was the food shop. When you were with Alexia, she always kept something healthy in the freezer for you should you feel like food shopping was too much for you but you needed something in the fridge or pantry. After long days at the training centre and after matches, the last thing you wanted to do was go to the always-too-busy shops. So, you began ordering food some days of the week. It wasn't like you ordered anything too unhealthy; you always got something vaguely nutritious with vegetables, protein, and carbohydrates. Everything you need for a well-balanced meal. But with the increased deliveries, the carefully constructed budget that Alexia and Lucy had worked out for you began to crumble. Soon, your bank account was much less full than it once was.

It was a sunny morning in early May when things really hit the fan. You had been pulled into a conference room. It all looked very official. Men with official suits you didn't recognise sat on one end of the long table. The Barcelona Big Bosses, as you called them, were along another. Jonatan and Alexia sat on the third side of the table, leaving a single seat on the fourth. Jonatan looked concerned, the Big Bosses looked stern, and the Officials looked bored. Alexia looked furious – she refused to look at you, her hands fiddling with the pen in front of her.

"Hola," you said as you took your seat. Introductions were made, and something small and square was placed on the table in the middle.

Buen día. "Soy Carlos Álvarez y él es mi colega Juan Ramírez; trabajamos para el Departamento de Estado y hemos sido asignados a su caso." You stared at the Official blankly. Your Spanish had been improving, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. "Le gustaría que esta entrevista se realizara en inglés?" You looked to Alexia for guidance, but she stayed staring at the papers in front of her.

"Um, lo siento, um, no en-entiendo. No hablo español," you responded. It was the phrase Lucy had taught you when you first arrived. The man gestured to one of the other Officials.

"My name is Juan Ramirez, and this is Carlos Álvarez; we are officers from the State Department assigned to your case." Your heart stopped. Did you have a case with the State Department? How? Why? Your fear must have shown on your face as Jonatan took pity on you.

"Y/N, you haven't filled out any tax forms or completed your Right to Work visa." Tax forms? A right-to-work visa? You have never had to fill any of those things out before.

"But … I've not completed those before."

"Yes, you have. Look." Juan handed you photocopies of filled-out forms, all with your name and information on them.

"I didn't …"

"I did it for you, Y/N," Alexia answered. "We used to sit down together and do it." When did you do that? You don't remember any forms.

"It shouldn't take too long to actually fill out the forms, but because they're late, you must go to court to hand them to the judges. Due to your status and job, you can stay in the country, but you cannot participate in matches or training until you have received confirmation from the State Department that you can work again." Juan explained. Court? No training? No matches? "We will also have to freeze your salary. It will be back-dated once you have the necessary documentation, but as of right now, you cannot receive any more money for FC Barcelona or anyone else in Spain." No more money? You were really starting to panic. What did they mean you couldn't be paid? You tried frantically to get Alexia's attention, but she refused to meet your eyes.

The rest of the meeting was a blur. You had been escorted to the mercifully empty changing rooms and gathered your things. As you entered the main corridor, you met an incensed Alexia, with Marta, Paños, Patri and Irene standing behind her. The captains.

You went to open your mouth when Alexia cut you off. "I don't want to hear a word from you. How could you be so irresponsible? You said you wanted to be treated like an adult, yet you do something as stupid as this. You could be deported, Y/N. You could be banned from ever entering Spain again."

"I know, but-"

"Do you? Do you know? You said you wanted to be treated like the adult you claimed you are, but you are not acting like one. Adults take responsibility for their own actions. Adults apologise to their friends for shouting at them. Adults can complete simple forms that take only a few minutes to complete. Adults act like adults," she continued. You felt a singular tear roll down your cheek. "And now you're crying," Alexia threw her hands in the air. "You wanted to be an adult, and you failed." That stung. But it wasn't a lie either. And that made it hurt worse. "Adults own up to their consequences and deal with them."

"Alright, Ale. I think she gets it." Patri tried to help you. She was one of your best friends, after all.

"Does she? Do you understand? Do you understand how much trouble you are in? Not just with me or the club but with the government?"

"Yes," you whispered so quietly that she barely heard you. She straightened to her full height, chest puffed out, shoulders back.

"You will not have contact with anyone from this club until you have received confirmation that you are allowed to work here. I will not allow you to drag them into your mess. When you are allowed back to train, you will be on the pitch every day at 7 am. You will complete extra laps before and after training until I deem it appropriate for you to stop. You will apologise to every single person who works for FC Barcelona for the hassle you have created for them. You will have to earn your right to even sit on the bench, let alone play or be a part of the Starting XI. You will have to earn back our respect, not just as a player, but as a person." Alexia said icily before pushing past you. The others followed suit, slightly concerned for you but still following their captain's lead. Patri gently patted your shoulder as she went.

You made it about 5 minutes into your car journey home before you deemed it too dangerous to drive. You pulled into a quiet side street and sobbed. You had really fucked up. You had really, truly, absolutely fucked up. And you weren't talking about the paperwork. That terrified you, of course. You had never even spoken to the Police, and now you had an open case file against you with the State Department. But what hurt the most was how appallingly and horrifically you had fucked up your friendships. The older girls had taken you under their wings without being asked. And how did you repay them? By behaving like a little brat who wanted to sit at the big girl's table.

The next day, Juan and Carlos turned up on your doorstep, armed with a mountain of paperwork and a tough expression. It had taken you 4 hours to complete all the documents you needed. Your court date came through the post a few weeks later. It was set for a month's time. You had hardly left your house. Initially, you wallowed in self-deprecation and began to hate yourself for how you treated the people in your team. The women that had helped you settle into Spain without being asked. The women who let you sleep in their spare rooms and crash on their couches. The women who filled out essential documents for you without you even realising it. And you had never even thanked them. Instead, you had hated them, resented them for the suffocating feeling you thought they had created. Maybe it was you? Perhaps you were so insistent on doing 'normal' things that you made your own asphyxiating environment around them?

After a week of feeling sorry for … everything, you decided enough was enough. You dragged yourself out of bed and into the shower. You forced yourself to make food and do an at-home workout. After moving your body a little bit, you sat down and began to concoct a plan. Alexia told you you had to apologise to everyone under the FC Barcelona banner. So that's where you would start. You wrote a list with each department on it. You couldn't find individual names, but you knew roughly how big the department was. You wanted to do something that was genuinely hard as an apology.

Buying flowers with a printed note was easy. So, you decided baking was the best option. You could bake reasonably well, and who doesn't love sweet treats. You decided it was better to be safe than sorry, so you made as many cakes, muffins, doughnuts, churros, brownies, and cookies as possible. The works. You couldn't go near the training centre, so you couriered them each day, handing over your mountain of confectionary with a label attached to which department it should go. Inside was a handwritten note apologising profusely for the difficulties you had caused them, promising that you would come to speak to them in person as soon as you were able to. The team was slightly easier to individualise things; you knew their favourites, so you spent a few days baking up a storm for them. You knew they were under strict instructions not to contact you – you wondered what punishment would await them if they tried – but you couldn't deny the total radio silence hurt a little. Could they really cut you out of their life so quickly? But this was your own making, you kept reminding yourself. This was on you. You had to fix this.

Eventually, your time in court came as you handed over the documents. The judge was strict and disapproving, but you could tell the man behind the gavel was nice enough. Your official confirmation documents came two days later, with instructions on who to give them to and when your next form deadlines were. You took out your phone, recorded the dates in your calendar, and wrote them on a piece of paper to pin to your fridge.

All that was left for you to do now was go to training.

Go to training and face the team.

Go to training and face the older girls you had been so rude to.

Go to training and face your captains.

Go to training and face Alexia again.

You set your alarm for 6 am the following day. You completed your usual daily routine – showering, brushing your teeth, getting your protein shake and breakfast, getting changed, getting in the car, and driving to the grounds. You had hoped it would calm you, but as the building got nearer and nearer, your nerves began to skyrocket. Taking steadying breaths, you made your way to the changing rooms. The building was eerie, being this quiet. Typically, the hallways were filled with loud chatter, and the changing rooms were filled with laughter. You made your way onto the pitches at 6.45. You were early, hoping it showed Alexia that you were trying to fix things. You initially decided to stand and wait for her, but then you remembered that she had told you you would be running until she decided you would stop. So, you start doing your stretching and activation. You didn't know this, but the Captains watched you from the conference room. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the training facility. After your stretches, your phone buzzed. Alexia had texted.

Ale <3: 30 laps.

Cariño: Hi. Yes, no problem. Will you be coming outside?

Ale <3: No, but I will know if you cheat.

30 laps was a lot. But you didn't want to cheat; this was your punishment for all the stress you had caused, so you would do it, and you would do it honestly—even if it killed you. You had asked because you wanted to see Alexia. You tried to apologise to her first, but that wasn't an option at the moment.

Ale <3: It's 7. Start running.

You filled with your watch as you took off on a gentle jog.

"30? Are you trying to kill her?" Irene asked as she watched you complete your 20th lap. You had only been running for about 35 minutes, but she was mildly concerned. This was the first time you'd done any significant form of movement in a while.

"She won't be needed in matches for a while. She'll be fine." Alexia wasn't about to let you off the hook.

"I know she won't be at matches for a while, but come on, Ale. She's got to do a full day's training after this. And laps afterwards." Marta pointed out. They had all been disappointed and hurt by your actions, but she thought Alexia might be taking it too far.

"She's fine. And who said she won't be at matches?" Alexia smiled, slightly evilly, Patri thought.

"You did?" Paños looked at her, confused.

"No, I said she won't be playing in matches. She will still attend them." They all shared mildly worried looks but let Alexia have her way.

When you eventually finished, you walked around with your hands on your head, taking deep breaths and trying to slow your heart rate down.

Ale <3: You can go. Be at breakfast at 8.30.

Your heart sank a little as you felt the iciness behind her texts, but this was your own doing. You had to deal with the consequences—like an adult. You headed to the showers to get dressed for the next training session, your shoulders slightly drooping. Alexia couldn't deny that it pulled on her heartstrings a little, but you must be taught a lesson about accountability.

When you arrived out of the showers, the changing room was busy. Everyone stopped talking as you walked to your cubby. You decided to utilise everyone staring at you to your advantage.

"I would like to take this time to apologise to you as a team. I will be coming and doing it individually as well, but I wanted to do this as a team. I am so, deeply, truly sorry for the way I have been acting in these last few months. I was angry and frustrated, but instead of talking calmly like an adult, I raised my voice and lashed out. I am so sorry. I am also sorry for causing a rift in the team – that was never my intention. I am also sorry for the issues I have caused by not completing simple forms. I apologise." You nodded and turned around, hoping the eyes wouldn't keep looking at you. Ona first broke the silence, nudging you slightly and smirking as you met her eyes.

The training was brutal, and Jonatan was not taking it easy on you (and you were reasonably sure it had a little bit to do with Alexia). You used the time you were allowed to talk to apologise to everyone personally. Most people shook you off, but the older girls listened to you and told them how much you hurt them. They accepted it nonetheless – they could see you were trying to make amends. You got through training without complaints, like an adult. You helped collect the equipment before stopping in front of your 4 captains.

"H – How many laps?" You asked, not quite looking any of them in the eyes.

"5," Alexia commented. You nodded and set off running again.

"Ale, aren't you being a little harsh? You're making her run about 6km today on top of training." Marta looked at you. You looked a little weak, running slower than this morning. But you had the determined glint in your eye that told her only Alexia could make you stop.

"She needs to learn her lesson." She shrugged and moved away.

It continued for about three weeks before Jonatan put his foot down. He was starting to get more than a little concerned by your and Alexia's behaviour. You had made up with the rest of the team entirely. The older girls, bar Alexia, asked you about your evenings, and you asked about theirs—just like any group of adults would do.

"Alexia. You need to stop this. She has proved herself. She has said sorry to every person in this building. You need to stop punishing her. I want her back on the team sheets for matches, and I can't do that with you slowly killing her." Jonatan had called her into his office after training. He hadn't initially questioned her behaviour; he had supported it at the beginning. But he could see that the constant rejection from her was getting to you. You were still young, after all.

"She hasn't," Alexia said, watching as he furrowed his brow in confusion. "She hasn't apologised to me."

"Maybe that's because you keep looking at her like you're going to kill her. I see her come up to you, clearly trying to apologise, and then you stare at her, not unlike how you're staring at me now." She quickly fixed her face. "You're terrifying the poor girl."

Her talk with Jonatan made Alexia question her methods a little bit. Yes, she made you run an additional 35 laps daily, but you had to learn your lesson, right? This was the only way to make you see how you were behaving. She was sure of it. In actuality, she was hurt. Your actions had really hurt her. Disregarding you shouting at her in front of everyone, you hadn't wanted her. And that really stung. She may have wanted you to also feel that pain … just a little bit.

As Alexia walked up to your door, she was slightly … nervous? No, that couldn't be right. She was Alexia Putellas, she didn't get nervous. But she was. It was the same feeling she got as a teenager when she knew she had run late at training, missing her curfew, and knowing that her mother was waiting for her behind the door. She decided she was more apprehensive than nervous. Alexia did not get nervous. As she raised her hand to knock, the door disappeared.

"I really don't know what to do," you jumped slightly as you registered that someone was standing before you. "Oh, hi," you said uncertainly. "Ona, I've got to go … Ale, um, Alexia's here … bye." You hung up the phone, putting your coat back behind the door. "Would you like to come in?" You offered meekly.

"Por favor. If that's ok." You smiled hesitantly and stepped back.

"Would you like a drink? I've got water, juice, tea, coffee … wine?" You sounded so unsure of yourself. Had she caused this?

"A tea would be lovely." You both settled yourself with the standard social conventions.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," you said as you gestured to the table. "I wanted to apologise to you. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I was rude. I should have been adult enough to discuss my feelings properly," you stared hard at the table, fidgeting with the mug in your hands. As Alexia opened her mouth again, you continued, pushing through before she could comment. "I would also like to apologise for what happened with the documents. I was so stupid not to fill out those forms. I made something that would have taken an afternoon at most into a massive thing. I'm sorry if I caused any embarrassment to you, as a person or as Capitana." You thought you embarrassed her? Yes, what you did was irresponsible, but you were living alone for the first time in a new country. Alexia should have made you do the forms earlier when you still lived with her, not doing them herself without your knowledge.

"Gracias, cariño." You looked up, shocked at the term of endearment. She hadn't called you that in a long time. "I would also like to apologise."

"You have nothing to-" you interjected.

"Sí, cariño, I do. I was so harsh on you. Harsher than what was warranted. I'm sorry. I'm not embarrassed; I never was. I was hurt. You said you didn't need or want me anymore. That hurt me," she explained.

"Ale … Alexia, I'll always want you around. I didn't want to go cold turkey on you. I just wanted you to treat me like you treat Cláudia, or Jana, or Ona. But I never wanted you to not be in my life." She smiled softly at your response. Although, she didn't like that you hesitated to call her Ale.

"Look at us, cariño, talking like the adults we both are." She joked as she sipped on her tea.

"Like the adults we both are, Ale." You smiled back.

So that was part 2. I hope you liked it. I don't think I'll make any more parts, but we shall see.

#barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso fluff #woso oneshot #woso #womens football

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heliads · 10 months

Note

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand.

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 carlos #f1 carlos imagines #f1 carlos x reader #f1 carlos oneshot

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seeingivy · 9 days

Text

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers.

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop.

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi.

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths.

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right.

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet.

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen.

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized.

Satoru Gojo Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer.

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year.

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity.

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month.

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night.

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible.

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food.

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose.

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours.

“whatcha doing, dollface?”

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here.

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state.

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters.

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks.

“how do you know it’s not mine?”

“intuition.”

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek.

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone.

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one.

“for you, my sweet lady.”

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?”

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back.

“c’mon.”

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer.

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.”

you scoff, before pulling your hand back.

“you’re corny.”

he shrugs.

“you’ll get used to it.”

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes.

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid.

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day.

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after.

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night.

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining.

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else.

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on.

you feel a hard smack against your head.

“do your fucking homework.”

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him.

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again.

“what, baby?” he whines.

“where’d you get your necklace?”

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable.

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light.

“you want it, princess?”

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –”

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist.

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap.

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you.

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck.

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.”

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes.

you scoff.

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”

satoru rolls his eyes.

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?”

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor.

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice.

“you okay? something i said?”

you shake him off.

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.”

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck.

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?”

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you.

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin.

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.”

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?”

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –”

“satoru.” you whine.

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.”

you grin.

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him.

“fuck off.”

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?”

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.”

it’s quiet.

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks.

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach.

“what?”

“how’d you know it was two degrees?”

“you-you told me.”

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.”

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed.

“where?”

you sigh.

“i stalked you on linked in.”

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away.

“oh, baby you didn’t.”

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!”

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.”

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!”

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!”

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest.

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –”

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.”

you glare.

“i don’t like you.” you state.

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair.

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?”

“okay, lock the door when you leave?”

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.”

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts.

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away.

“mimosas?”

“you want to drink that early in the morning?”

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.”

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.”

you smile.

“you like when i’m handsy.”

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.”

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind.

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –”

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.”

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there.

then why didn’t he ask you?

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in.

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are.

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks.

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?”

you can feel yourself sweating.

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you?

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks.

“um, yeah.”

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.”

suguru and ieiri.

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?”

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar.

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse.

“do you want help?”

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you.

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.”

“no, no. no problem.”

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –”

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.”

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake.

“are you a brother?” you ask.

“yeah! is this your first formal?”

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.”

he leans back, eyes wide.

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?”

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.”

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –”

he sucks his teeth in.

“idiot.” he murmurs.

“what?”

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.”

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –”

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand.

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?”

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?”

“yuuta?”

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.”

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving.

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall.

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach.

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out.

“y/n? wait, y/n!”

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin.

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you.

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders.

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago.

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes.

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface.

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –”

you scoff.

“are you kidding?”

“hm?”

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?”

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table.

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.”

you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold.

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.”

“baby, what?”

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper.

his eyes go wide.

“no, i –”

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.”

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop.

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!”

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively.

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.”

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.”

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low.

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?”

geto offers you a smile.

“that’s right.”

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?”

“that would be me.” she confirms.

you cringe.

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –”

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks.

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.”

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.”

you turn to satoru.

“and you just gave that to me?”

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.”

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-”

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!”

you scoff.

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts.

“because you flirt with other girls!”

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?”

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.”

satoru groans.

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?”

you pause.

“you do what?”

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –”

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru.

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state.

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –”

“you talk to your friends about me?”

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms.

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you.

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him.

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?”

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!”

you glare at him.

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…”

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him.

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers.

“satoru.”

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.”

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.”

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –”

“satoru!”

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.”

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan.

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.”

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –”

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar.

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.”

you squint your eyes at him.

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.”

“really?”

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime.

“what’s the verdict?”

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth.

“satoru. what…what time is it?”

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.”

“your….what?”

satoru whines.

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?”

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am.

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?”

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.”

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can.

“you pass.”

“huh?”

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.”

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again.

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

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magics-neptunes-things · 7 months

Text

Fire and Ice 2

Hi guys!

Here is the part 2 of Fire and Ice, I try to pick a suggestion an anon made yesterday so I hope it will be fun to read :)

And it’s actually much longer than I imagined at first.

Keep telling me what you think about my writing, I love to read you.

Enjoy!

PART 1 ______________________________________________________________

The next time you saw Leah was two days after your kiss. She was kind of moody, all the team was supposed to take the team picture and the weather wasn't really nice.

Even if you didn’t stop thinking about this kiss, you didn’t try to talk to her. Or at least you didn't do anything else than creep every picture on her Instagram or the firsts videos of her TikTok. And the more you find yourself watching these videos, the more you fall in love with Leah. The way you felt during this kiss is always present and you just have to think about it to feel them again. It never happened to you before and you don't know what to do about it.

Arriving the last ones with Alessia, with whom you make the trips to the stadium, you don't have the courage to go and greet everyone. You just smile and wave, but your gaze lingers for a few more seconds on Leah. With her umbrella, she seems to complain to a Lia who have an amused look on her side.

After this day you didn't really have the opportunity to see her. However, what you don't know is that she sometimes observes you from the physio center where she continues to follow her exercises to return to the field with you. Despite the tinted windows, she sometimes has the impression that you feel her gaze on her given the way you turn in her direction.

**************

The next time you really have the opportunity to see her, it's for the next team evening. This time it was organized by Lia and you gladly accept when she ask you to come over. You managed to sit on the sofa with direct look to the kitchen where Leah is, in the middle of a discussion with two or three other teammates, allowing you to look at her without it being too obvious. This will not stop you from getting caught by Leah herself watching her, several times. But each time you just smile at her before looking away, without even taking the time to check that she gives it back to you.

Pizza were eaten and the first film finished when Beth and Katie approach you with a big smile, sitting each on either side of you. You were talking with Frida about Norway, you missed your country a little bit, but your conversation was quickly stopped. From the corner of your eye, you notice that Leah sits down more straight on the other sofa, a look of frustration on her face.

"So!" Katie begin as you raise an eyebrow at here "We made you a Tinder account."

"You what?"

To be honest, you really thought they’d forgotten about you meeting someone. The subject hadn't been discussed since and you didn't even think to tell Frida about it, the kisses you exchanged with Leah making you forget what else had happened during this evening.

"What’s all this about?" Frida asked with a deep frown, taking her role of big sister a little too much at heart.

"Well, Y/N is single, young, cute and really hot. She need to find someone to take care of her and give her the love she deserved" Beth answers, like it was the most logical thing ever.

You whispers something about the love of god on your mother language, hiding your face behind your hand.

"Told you it was stupid of you" Leah mumble from her couch.

You look at her between your fingers, but you are quickly interrupted by Beth who removes your hand from your face to show you her phone screen.

"Look!" she says happily while you take it in your hand.

Tinder was open on your profile and you look at what they might have written or said about you.

"Where did you find this picture?" you asked, as it was one you take from your last summer holiday.

"Google, i think. Dunno" Katie shrugs.

"I'm single and ready to mingle. Really?"

Beth and Katie both laughs as you roll your eyes, giving Beth's phone back. You’re trying to take this lightly, even if you must admit that it makes you a little uncomfortable. If the information that a profile in your name is on a application like this comes to your parents, you’re not sure you can handle their questions. Frida, on the other hand, seems rather suspicious and a glance at Leah informs you that she's still looking at the scene with a gloomy face.

"And it's not finish! We already managed to arrange two dates for you. We didn't know which kind of girl you like, so we take a brunette and a blonde. You just have to cancel the one you don't like."

You remain completely amazed this time, simply not knowing what to answer. It was Leah who did it for you, getting up from the couch, too angry to stay on the couch.

"This is some bullshit, making up a date from Tinder? What are you looking to? Get her murdered to get her place on the team?"

"She's right" Frida add, frowning. "I don't want to find her in the news, other than for her athletic talents."

"You both are overreacting. She will be safe" Katie shrugs.

"Blond or brunette?" Beth asks you, ignoring the others.

Your gaze flies away for a split second towards Leah, before you respond in a whisper that you prefer blondes.

**************

A few days later, you find yourself at the date that you haven't planned at all, clearly not totally comfortable with the girl that your teammates have selected for you. She realized very fast that the way you talk isn't the same that it was on the application, so you confessed the truth. It didn’t seem to bother her, but rather to amuse her. After your meal at the restaurant, she offered to continue the evening in a bar a little further down the street and you agreed. You can’t deny people things.

You’re having a hard time concentrating on what she’s telling you, stupidly excited about something else. One little thing, too. But Leah did a post last night on your last game and in her photo drop she posted one of you accompanied by a goat emoji and a crown. And it gives you far too much pleasure for it to be innocent. But again, Emma, who seems to be particularly the kind to forgive people, doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it.

Speaking of attention, you haven't shown much either since you didn't realize that the woman who has been haunting your thoughts for almost three weeks is actually a few meters from you.

Leah managed to snatch the name of the restaurant you were supposed to meet Emma from Beth and simply decided to take you as a fillature. Officially to watch over you and make sure nothing happens to you. Unofficially because she’s mad as hell just thinking about the stupid idea of her two friends. Like you need a Tinder date to meet someone.

As she watches you talking to that damn blonde, she tries to determine the real reasons why she came here. Because the truth is, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your kiss either. And it annoys her like crazy, but after trying to ignore you for almost two weeks, these idiots of Beth and Katie decided to throw you in the arms of the first person coming.

And even though she’s consumed with jealousy to see you so comfortable with Emma, unlike what you’ve never been with her, Leah can’t help but feel satisfied seeing you get lost in your thoughts sometimes as Emma talks. Emma can certainly not realize it since she doesn't know you, but Leah has been watching you for two weeks and can now determine the different expressions of your face.

She followed you to the bar discreetly, there also satisfied to see the physical distance that you put between you two while you were walking. She saw the way Emma tried to grab your arm to walk and the skillful way you went away, while remaining polite. It reassured her a little, too, proving that despite your shyness you can say no.

The bar you chose doesn’t have a very good reputation (something you don't know) and Leah is happy to have followed you, just in case. The crowd being denser than in the restaurant, she sometimes loses sight of you from her table while you are installed in the bar with Emma. She isn't disturbed on her side, her icy look sufficient to keep away any human being having a little common sense.

**************

The discussion with Emma is rather light, but not transcendent either. She seems rather kind and it makes you a little sad not to be able to give her the attention she probably deserves. But you can’t help but think about Leah and it makes you half crazy. While you and Emma were walking down the street, you were wondering, for example, where would Leah have preferred to take you after the restaurant instead of listening to Emma talk about her work.

"I'm going to the bathroom" you say right after you order your second drink.

On your way to the toilet, you take the opportunity to take a look at your phone and send a message to Frida and Alessia to inform them that you are still alive. And you end up on Leah’s Instagram page, pouting when you see she doesn’t post anything. When you return, you inform Emma that after you finish your drink you will go home. You’re getting tired and the heat at the bar doesn’t help you feel better.

She takes it with a smile, not even asking if you will be able to see each other again next time. It makes you hope a little that she realized that you didn’t necessarily have sparks between both of you. Perhaps she could become a friend, but certainly not a love interest.

"Are you all right?" Emma asks you frowning a few minutes later.

With your eyes closed, you shake your head negatively, using all your strength of mind not to fall off your stool. Your head turns atrociously and you have the impression that the food you ingested a few hours earlier is just waiting to come out.

"Bathroom" is the only word you managed to say.

You try to get up, but it’s only Emma’s hand catching your arm that keeps you from falling. It's no longer your head that turns, but the whole room while the sounds of conversations or atmosphere of the bar reach you as if you had your head under the water.

"Come with me, I'll help you ok?" Emma tells you nicely by helping you to the bathroom.

As you reach the door, a voice intervenes and you must focus to understand what it says.

"Let her go. Now."

"Who are you?"

The unknown voice doesn't respond, but you feel much more toned and assertive arms seize your waist, rather delicately though. A fresh, pleasant hand lands on your forehead and only then that you recognize the smell of Leah’s perfume. The white fear that gripped her voice prevented you from recognizing her.

Hardly opening your eyes, blinded by the light of the toilet, you only see two babyblue eyes before sinking definitively.

**************

When you regain consciousness, despite your closed eyes, it only takes you a few seconds to remember what just happened. Opening your eyes abruptly, you suddenly sit in the bed in which you are. You’ve read too many stories that end badly because of drugs ingested without consent.

"Wow, slow down cowboy"

Leah get up from the chair next to you, lightly pushing your elbow to make you lie down again.

"Leah? What are you doing here? Wha- What happened to me?"

"It's ok sweatheart. You're safe. Breath, ok?"

Leah doesn't answer your question but the pet name she gave you make you forget this point. The softness of the tone she just used and her hand that delicately releases your hair from your face causes you like electric mini-currents throughout all your body. Is it normal to react like that to such a banal gesture?

But the black hole in your memory continues to torment you, you need to know.

"Do you know what happened to me?" you ask quietly, raising your eyes on her.

Leah bites her lips and you imagine already the worst, but she doesn't let the suspense remain too long.

"They think someone put something in your glass. Your girlfriend swore it wasn’t her, so they’ll look for who it might be. Even if you decide not to press charges the bar did so then they will look anyway. But no one touch you, I promise."

"She's not my girlfriend" you mumble, sinking yourself in the pillow.

"Whatever" Leah grumble, pulling the chair next to your bed to be near you.

"What are you doing here Leah?" you ask again, looking at her.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Of course not. You’ve never been alone with her in a room so long and you’re secretly thrilled that she’s here to take care of you. You’re worried about her leaving.

"No"

A few seconds of silence passed after your answer, to which Leah replied only with a nod, before returning to speak.

"I followed you"

You did not expect this answer and your head turns so sharply in her direction that Leah doesn't have time to hide her slight red cheeks.

"Why?"

"I'm your captain. I’m supposed to look after you."

You nod, a little disappointed with this answer. Your eyes continue to scan Leah’s face, who always seems to refuse to look at you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gently place your hand on hers. You notice with relief that she doesn't remove it, despite her look on your hands.

"It's weird"

"What?" you ask, frowning.

Her eyes plunge into yours and you find yourself breathless in front of so much intensity.

"The way you make me feel"

You feel your heart miss a beat, before it start beating way too fast. You swallow your saliva but suddenly find yourself unable to say a word.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed Y/N. I can't stop to think about it. I can't stop looking at you even if I don't want to because that's fucking scare me. I never fell this way before, even though I didn’t kiss almost two hundred people like Beth implied the other night. I mean, of course I noticed you because like Katie said, it’s hard not to. But we never really talked, and now I’m just thinking about you all the time. It doesn’t fucking make sense."

You're stunned, one more time. But Leah has been honest with you and you owe her the truth, too.

"You impressed me. That’s why I never really came to talk to you. I was afraid you might think I was stupid or immature."

"You used the past. Does that mean you don’t think I’m impressive anymore?" Leah asks you with a smirk.

Despite everything you can't help but smile slightly.

"No. I feel it even stronger, because you’re not the only one who has those kisses in mind all the time. I didn’t know you felt the same way."

Your heart keeps beating fast and you are relieved not to have a heart rate displayed on a machine, nothing would have been more embarrassing than that.

Leah’s gaze scans your face and you take the opportunity to do the same, admiring her features more openly than ever.

"Would it be inappropriate to kiss you now?"

Smiling softly, you respond negatively with a nod. You didn’t think your heart could pick up its pace again when you realized that Leah is approaching your face. Very slowly, allowing you to largely anticipate what will happen.

A breath escapes from your mouth when her lips ghost yours.

"Stay still" she whispers.

And you need all your strength of concentration to lie down and not break the last millimeters between your lips. But eventually it happens, Leah’s lips gently settling on yours. With the tip of your thumb, you caress her cheek for the few seconds that the kiss lasts.

It may have been a simple kiss and not a session of long making out, but the fireworks are back. You find yourself immersed in the blue of Leah’s eyes when you open yours again, shining with the same light you saw when you were at her home.

"I want more" you whispers and she smiles.

Delicately, you draw her with you on your bed and she willingly lets herself be guided.

You’re the one who initiates the next kiss, now that you know you have the right to do it. The sensations you find on her lips make you feel like you can breathe completely again. You spend a few moments rediscovering her lips, before sliding the tip of your tongue on her lower lip. You take advantage of Leah’s moan to slide your tongue into her mouth, starting a playful battle to determine which of the two will win.

When you separate from her to catch your breath, you feel her chasing your lips for a new kiss that you cannot refuse her. The truth is you don’t want this moment to end. But this eventually happens when a nurse enters the room right after knocking. Leah detaches herself from you to cast a bad look at the professional who blushes like a tomato.

"Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know…" she stammers and you have to bite your lips not to burst out laughing.

"What do you need?" asked Leah coldly.

"I just came to check that everything was fine"

"I’m fine, thank you" you answer with a smile, not to traumatize this poor nurse.

She nods and waits a few more seconds without moving, requiring a steady look from Leah with both eyebrows raised so that she gets out of the room, apologizing again.

"Stop impressing people" you smile, gently smacking her shoulder.

Leah turns her attention to you with a smirk and lays a softer kiss on your lips this time. Laughing softly at the visible disappointment on your face, she wraps a strand of your hair around her finger.

"As much as I would literally spend the rest of my day kissing you, I would like to make things clear right now"

"Ok?" you answer, feeling the anxiety slowly coming back.

You push yourself to the side of the bed to let Leah settle next to you, which she does by lying on the side her head supported by her hand.

"I know I’m not easy, I’m unpredictable, and sometimes I have trouble myself figuring out why I’m reacting like this. I am unbearable when it comes to food. I am jealous but I hate being so sometimes I pout for like two days without succeeding in explaining why. I’m really not the perfect girlfriend, every time I wanted to surprise someone it went wrong."

You don’t say anything, listening to Leah talking about herself, maybe not in the best way, wondering where she wants to go by telling you all this.

"But I think I’m a caring person, who knows how to take care of those she loves and remember things. I love cuddling in the morning, singing like crazy while burning my breakfast and taking baths. And I think I’ll love all these things even more if you share them with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship, but I want to try with you. I promise you to never hurt you. Let me get this right and let me take you on a date as soon as you get out of here."

"I would love that, Leah"

"Yes?"

"Yes" you answer, your smile illuminating your face.

She smiles back and you lean for another kiss. Leah doesn’t let you, however, putting an index on your lips at the last moment.

"One last thing"

"What?" you ask, hiding your frustration.

"I never want to hear about this damn Emma again."

You laugh while rolling your eyes. Despite her, Leah smiles softly and finally decides to interrupt your laughter by kissing you.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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ceilidho · 7 months

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Best friend Johnny who's first instinct when you get a boyfriend is to go down on you/finger you till you're squirmy and crying. Maybe edges you until you agree to break up with the guy.

and if he's TOXIC sends a small video of himself going down on reader or fingering her open. Most of reader is strategically covered by either johnnys hands (or mouth lmao) but based on her voice and Johnny's 'she was mine first' message - the now ex figures it out lmao.

oh I'm screaming at this, anon

Best friend Johnny who finds out that you have a boyfriend (maybe you only just started dating or just made it official or something) and it flips a switch in him.

He's been passively interested in you for awhile now, but because you rarely date, he'd been lazy about it. Content to tease you and leave you on edge, making you sit in his lap when you'd go out with friends, talking on the phone until you fall asleep, licking sauce off the corner of your mouth like the gross degenerate that he is instead of using a napkin - anything to get you worked up and squirming in your chair.

Didn't think he'd have to rush into a relationship or sleeping together just yet because the chase is half the fun for him.

He didn't think you'd actually be desperate enough to go out on a date with someone else, never mind get a boyfriend. At first he feels a bit betrayed, maybe even panicked. You aren't dating but it feels a bit like you're replacing him with another guy. Another man who doesn't feel an iota of what Johnny feels for you, who's only there because Johnny's been taking his sweet time instead of locking you down.

It's okay though; he won't make the same mistake twice.

I have a recurring terrible daydream of you losing your job and Johnny manipulating you into doing porn with him :(( and he promises that no one else will see - it'll just be a couple amateur videos that you'll hide behind a paywall and once you've saved up a nice little nest egg, that'll be it. Except he doesn't make a huge effort to hide your faces from the camera or keep himself from saying your name. In fact, he spends a lot of time filming the two of you just making out, always sloppy and heated.

And he wants to film every single day! It doesn't feel like a proper job where there's a separation between work life and personal life. When you aren't filming, he still wants to 'practice' - eating you out in the back of his car after going to the movies, making you blow him on the couch after you come back from a date. Monopolizing so much of your time that you barely have the energy to go out with your actual boyfriend. But when he makes you sit on his cock while you look over how much you made that month, you can't deny how nice it is to not feel stressed about your finances for a change.

It's horrifically embarrassing the day your boyfriend stumbles across one of your videos, but Johnny's the best at comforting you when you come crying to him. Says all the right things. Has every argument in the world about why it wasn't cheating. Gets mad at your ex on your behalf for scrolling through porn accounts in the first place. He says all of this while not so subtly ushering you into your bedroom.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #soap x you #soap/reader

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luveline · 11 months

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hey babe, i was wondering if you’d write something with grumpy!sirius platonic or romantic (your choice) where the readers normally sunshine and all happy but everyone forgot her birthday so he does everything he can to cheer her up

not projecting at all 🤭

if you don’t want to that’s so okay i understand diolch cariad 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi, thank you for your request! I hope you can make the very best of your day, anon, I’m sorry the people close to you forgot it :( please have a happy birthday! grumpy!sirius x sunshine fem!reader

Sirius is guilty of pretending you irk him. You're always smiling, always complimenting him, and always touching him. He knows you wouldn't touch him if he asked you not to —you checked with him a couple of times when you first met if it was okay, and he said, Yeah, it's okay, with no further explanation or objection.

He pretends your sunny disposition doesn't make him happy, too, but it does. It's selfish, then, when he notices you aren't feeling good today and decides he has to correct it immediately, lest the ray of sunshine that is your presence diminish.

He sits down beside you on the bench, propping his face in his hand, elbow on his knee, a picture of nonchalance. "Hey."

"Hi, Siri."

He takes his pack of Lamberts from his jacket pocket and offers you one. You never take one, but he offers anyway. He doesn't want you to start smoking, he just figures that it's a nice gesture.

He puts them away without lighting any when you say no.

"Don't not have one on my account," you say.

It's exactly why you deserve to have someone checking on you, no matter how cold it is, and no matter how much fun everyone's having at the bar. You put everyone else first.

"I didn't want any." He was trying to cheer you up. He should've known a cigarette wouldn't do it. Best go in with guns blazing.

Sirius rifles through the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out the white box inside. He hadn't wrapped it. There's a confidence that comes with sincerity, and it's the kind of confidence he lacks. He's embarrassed enough to have bought you something in the first place.

"Happy birthday," he says. "Don't tell me if you don't like it, please."

You sit up a little straighter, inch by inch, accepting the small box into your hands. They wrap around the lid, your fingers moving with a deliberate gentleness, until your thumbs clamp over the top of it hard enough to make the lid bend. You smile at him, and it is perhaps the most heartbreaking smile he's ever seen. Disappointment and gratefulness all wrapped into one.

"I didn't think anyone remembered," you say. Your voice is hoarse, and you cough rather than let it crack.

He thought maybe you'd been upset because it was your birthday —Sirius himself has a weird relationship with his. He hadn't considered that no one else thought to celebrate with you. And despite his general unhappiness, his permanent headache and all the constraints of being as introverted as he is, Sirius sort of snaps.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, his elbow resting against your back, and pulls you toward him. "I'm so sorry."

You're clearly surprised by his touch, but you don't shy away. "No, it's okay. I realise that it's my fault, you know, we're all adults and I should've mentioned it again, I can't expect people to know if I don't say."

"I think…" He licks his lips. "Okay, I think that people genuinely do forget things, but it's a special day, and you expected special things. I really don't see how it's your fault."

"Maybe not," you concede. You sniffle, and Sirius is horrified to realise you've a tear traversing down the soft slope of your cheek. "I don't know, I just wish people remembered."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You wipe your cheek with a cruel hand. He can't stop himself from taking it, wanting to prevent any further self-meanness. Your eyes widen as you look him in the face, tears dewy at the waterline.

"But you remembered," you say, tone happy even while thick with tears.

"I wrote it down," he confesses. "I wanted to get it right."

"That's so nice," you say, another tear cresting your cheek. You wrap your arms around his waist and tuck your cheek against his in a hug. "That's really thoughtful, Siri. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You… make so much time for me. Whenever you see me. I don't know if you know how much you affect people, you can make anybody smile. I wanted to make sure I could do the same, even if it's only once."

"You make me smile all the time." You squeeze him and then pull away, wiping your cheeks and straightening your jacket.

He'd usually roll his eyes, but not right now. He just smiles at you, hoping you understand it for all the silent appreciation that it is.

You huff a little breath in and drop your gaze to your hands in your lap, where you're untying the bow that's been wrapped around the jewellery box. You lift the lid, the sides emitting a shushing sound near enough lost to the sound of the street and the people laughing in the pub behind you.

It's a bracelet. The beads are simple but not something you'd see everyday, silver backed hearts, flat on the silver side and a milky white that seems to glow on the bevelled fronts. There's four hearts, connected to smaller milky white beads.

He was terrified buying it and he's scared now.

"I really like you," he says. "I'm sorry about your birthday. You deserve a lot more."

Your cheeks apple as you turn to him, your eyelashes kissing with the force of your smile. You pull your knees to touch his and offer him the bracelet on two fingers. "Can you hook it on, please?"

"You don't have to wear it," he says, because he didn't think this far.

"I want to wear it, please. It's beautiful. It's the nicest gift anyone's ever given me."

He blinks hard and dips his head slightly to one side as he murmurs, "If you're sure," hands coming up to take the bracelet from you.

You're both quiet as he unlatches it and lays it across your wrist. He's gentle to the point of aching, and he's putting every bit of effort that he can to stop his hands from trembling, he's so nervous.

"There," he says. "Anything else you need?"

It's meant to be sarcastic, as if to say, you're working me like a dog, here.

You shake your head hurriedly. "Nothing else. Thank you, Sirius."

He takes his cigarettes out, knowing he won't be able to calm down, not when you're looking at him like he just hung the moon. "It's okay," he says, putting a cigarette between his lips. "Don't mention it. Please, don't."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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flowerandblood · 10 months

Text

Robbed and gifted (1/6)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She had only signed a few sheets of paper, but she felt as if she had sold herself to a slave market. She despised herself and her uncle. His proposal. She despised her husband and his father. That they made a deal with each other over their heads, making their artificial marriage a route to easy cash flow and money laundering.

She was surprised when her uncle, Arthur, her mother's brother, called her with the proposal. When he offered to pay for her college and financially support her parents, who were in debt because of her father's gambling addiction, she thought he must be crazy.

Then he began to mention a family with whom he had close ties. About the young man who was their son. About how she could help him a lot, and with this favor ensure her future and safety.

“We would need this marriage for about a year, maximum two, so that our money would be filtered through your bank accounts in several tranches. Your community of property will make things easier for us - and then you can divorce." He said as they sat in a small restaurant where he had invited her.

She was about to take a piece of spaghetti in her mouth but she put the cutlery on the plate, staring at him with her mouth open. She didn't believe what she just heard.

"You want to sell me?" She asked, feeling her whole body tense, cold sweat running down her neck. Her uncle laughed, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"Of course not. You are only to make appearances. Of course, we wouldn't want the rest of the family to know about this deal, so you'd have to live in the same apartment in case someone came to visit you, and show up at family events once in a while. What you do privately is up to you. It is as if you have been given an assignment and a mission for a certain period of time for which you will both be handsomely paid.” He said with a calmness and serenity that terrified her. She wondered how he could talk about such things so lightly.

"Are you proposing me a sham marriage to a stranger for money?" She asked, pale, her eyes wide, her hands trembling slightly. Her uncle smiled warmly at her.

“I offer to take care of your future, for your small favor and sacrifice. Think about this." He said, putting some bills on the table, definitely more than their dinner was worth and left, leaving her with disbelief written on her face.

She came home angry and distraught. She felt that her uncle treated her like garbage, like a bargaining chip, an item that he could put up for auction. She felt an unpleasant lump in her pit as she saw that her father was gone again.

She walked over to her mom who was just lying on the couch watching TV, bored. She stood for a moment in the doorway of the room, pursed her lips.

"Where is dad?" She asked quietly. Her mother shrugged.

"Probably where he always is." She murmured, taking a sip of tea from a large mug. She felt a tightness in her pit at her words. She went to her room without asking for anything else.

In the night, she heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a loud thud and a scream. She saw the hallway light was on and peeked through the door, opening it slightly. Her mother was standing over her father who lay slumped against the wall, drunk, his vision completely blurred.

"How do you look? How much have you lost on those fucking slot machines again today?" She asked low, angry.

She saw her mother kick her father in the stomach. She cringed, as if she felt the pain too. Her father was only moaning, what she might call gibberish. Her mother began to sob and continued to yell at him. She slipped into her room, closing the door, feeling her whole hands tremble.

The next day she called her uncle, saying that she agreed to his proposal.

She just wanted him to take her away.

Then everything went fast. She had to appear at the Registry Office to sign the documents, together with her fictitious husband. She saw him for the first time and this was not how she had imagined him.

The fact that he was dressed all in black made him look very pale. His blindfold made her think that he was some kind of character in a movie, not a real person. As if it was all some kind of theater in which she played one of the main roles. She thought, looking down at her short, flowing black dress that they were both dressed as if they were going to a funeral.

When everything was settled, Aemond, as it turned out was her current husband's name, simply left the room without saying even a polite farewell. She looked down at her feet, pursed her lips, and decided that he owed her nothing. Neither she to him.

She wasn't going to take her frustrations out on him.

Her parents were privy to the whole thing. They were furious at first, but when her uncle gave them the exact numbers that they would get for it and the payment of their father's debts, they both calmed down and decided that two years wasn't that long after all.

She stared blankly at them, wondering who these people were at all. They seemed alien and distant to her as never before.

In accordance with her uncle's demands, she had to move into her husband's apartment. She had wanted to vomit just thinking about it for most of the morning. She felt like a puppet controlled by someone else. As if she sold her life for a few bills. She thought that maybe she wasn't so different from her parents after all, and the thought hit her hard.

She came with a moving team. Aemond showed them a room to set up her bookshelf, desk, and any other furniture she wanted to take. It was obvious to her that they would sleep separately, almost as if they were roommates. Aemond didn't say a word to her as the men brought in everything and she paced the apartment, looking around.

The apartment was large and had huge windows, the walls were white, so it seemed very bright and pleasant inside. She saw a lot of old oak furniture and plants.

She thought she liked it here.

That whoever her husband was, he had good taste.

She heard the door close suddenly and then there was silence. She felt her heart start pounding.

She turned towards him. He stood in the corridor and looked at her dispassionately, as if she were an intruder, a whore greedy for money, someone empty and worthless. She felt it in every cell of her body, but she couldn't be mad at him.

Part of her wanted him to treat her that way.

"I have someone." He spoke calmly, coolly, empty. "So I don't want you asking me who and where I'm going out with. I hope that's clear."

He said it in such a way that she felt, as if he had slapped her in the face. She swallowed hard, looking away. For some reason she wanted to cry, her hands were shaking. After a moment she forced herself to choke something out.

"I wouldn't dare to expect that. I'm sorry." She said, although she did not know for what.

She saw something change in his eyesight, his pupil narrowed, his mouth tightened. She thought his expression looked almost sympathetic for a moment. He nodded.

"Make yourself comfortable." He finally said a little softer and turned away, opening one of the rooms and locking himself in. Only then did she allow tears to run down her face.

For the next few days he wasn't in the apartment. It didn't bother her, she felt more at ease then, she wasn't afraid to go to the kitchen or the living room. She didn't go into his office or bedroom, thinking it was impolite.

She spent her days filling out college papers and buying books. The thought that she would actually go to medical school cheered her up.

One night, lying in bed, she heard a soft turn of the lock, and then saw that someone had turned on the light in the corridor. Her heart pounded at the thought that he was back.

She thought that he must have forgotten something or had come for some clean clothes and was about to leave again, but he hadn't. She heard him turn off the light in the hall and lock himself in his office. Her throat tightened.

She spent the rest of the night spinning around, unable to sleep a wink. She got up at dawn, unable to bear it any longer, and went to the kitchen. There was practically nothing in the fridge.

She thought then that they might live apart, but that didn't mean that they had to dislike each other. She decided to go shopping and make them breakfast.

Lighten up the atmosphere somehow.

She quickly went to the store for fresh rolls and vegetables, eggs, cheese and ham. When she returned, she decided to make sandwiches with fresh lettuce, radish, tomato and chives with a delicious sauce, and casseroles, which she put in the oven in the meantime.

She flinched as she heard the sound of the door opening. She heard Aemond enter the bathroom. She felt her hands tremble.

After a while he left the room and went into the kitchen. He measured the large plate on the table where she had placed her sandwiches. He headed for the coffee machine and she plucked up the courage to say something.

"I made us breakfast." She said and cut him off quickly, seeing that he wanted to tell her to give up her efforts because it wouldn't work anyway.

“It will be hard for two years to pretend we don't see each other. Can't we just be roommates like in college? Who sometimes meet in between and talk?" She asked quietly with a warm smile. She felt him tense as he stared at her, his face set to stone.

"You mean college like the one that you're going to, that was paid for with my money?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him, shocked. She opened her mouth, feeling her entire stomach clench, shaking her head.

"I…my uncle told me…" She stammered, but he didn't let her finish.

“Your uncle is just a venal pig. Just like your whole family, apparently." He said it so calmly and dispassionately, that she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She stared at the bun that she had just sliced and put the knife aside, her lips pressed together.

"I didn't know." She whispered. He chuckled at her words, but it was ironic, aloof, incredulous laugh.

"Right. You women never know. Everything around you happens by itself.” He hissed as he took his coffee mug and left the kitchen, locking himself in his office.

She took several sandwitches in her hand, breathing raggedly, wiping her tears and nose, as she wrapped them in cling film for him. She knew that he'd be leaving for work soon, so she wanted to at least give them to him for lunch.

When she got home after going to the college she saw, that what she had left at his door, wrapped in a cardboard box, he had thrown into the bin.

She gave up trying to make contact with him. It made her cry often, feeling like an intruder and knowing what he thought of her. She started classes but she wasn't proud of it at all. She was convinced that she was like a parasite that clung to him. She wasn't surprised that he couldn't look at her.

He tried to pretend that she didn't exist.

One day, he surprised her by knocking on her bedroom door. Since their exchange she ate alone, not in the dining room. She opened the door. He didn't even look at her when he was talking to her.

"Get ready. We're going to my parents' house in an hour. My family wants to meet you." He said indifferently and turned away, disappearing back into the living room. She felt as if someone had poured ice cubes into her body.

She felt like she was about to die.

She put on a pretty, blue, girlish dress with tiny flowers and let her hair down. She decided that she couldn't embarrass him and had to present herself as best as she could.

She left the room and told him that she was ready. She saw him look her up and down as if to see, if she looked acceptable, then nodded and they both left the apartment.

They rode in complete silence, listening to the radio. She flinched when she heard his voice.

“We met by chance at one of the business events. You were there with your uncle. We fell in love right away. We kept our relationship a secret for a year. Do you understand?” He asked with emphasis on the last words, his voice as cold as ice. She swallowed loudly.

"Yes."

As they entered his house, she smiled widely. She decided to play her role as best as she could. His mother, Alicent, hugged her tightly. It seemed to her, that she knew nothing about what was really going on between them.

Their house was huge, modern, terrifyingly opulent. She felt uncomfortable there, as if something was missing. She sat down at the table in the indicated place and she was immediately bombarded with questions.

Aemond sat next to her, crossing his legs and placing his hand on her thigh. She looked at him in surprise, and he didn't even glance at her. She thought that he was trying to pretend, just like she was.

At the table were his father, mother, and siblings, but also his sister from his father's second marriage, Rhaenyra, with her children and now-husband, Daemon. From what she understood, they were all in the big family banking business.

They talked to her about things that she didn't understand at all, but she nodded and talked to them about nothing. If there was one thing she was good at it was simple, warm chatting. People opened up to her easily because she created a comfortable field for them to discuss.

Wine was poured with dinner. So many dishes were placed before them, that she did not know where to look. She saw a lot of cutlery in front of her and thought that she felt like in that movie, where they sit some worker at the table with the nobility and make him guess which fork is for what. She shuddered, snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her husband's voice in her ear.

"I don't advise you to take soup or roast, because everyone will be looking at you." He said indifferently, serving himself the soup. Apparently, what he meant was that his family for some reason cared a lot about how someone ate. She asked what he could offer her.

"Everything but roasts and soups." He said dryly and she rolled her eyes, impatient with his behavior. She saw him purse his lips at the sight, displeased, his hand tightening on the skin of her thigh.

"Don't make faces like that." He whispered through clenched teeth, looking at her sharply. She looked at him expectantly.

"Decide for me, husband. Let your will be done." She whispered, leaning over him, her moist lips slightly parted.

She saw his gaze flit from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes. He tapped his finger against her knee, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Careful." He said low and she shivered.

After a moment he looked away, leaning over the table, reaching for a salad. Pretending, that nothing had happened she poured some of it on her plate and began to eat. She hasn't had anything in her mouth since morning.

Suddenly, Viserys and Daemon went from light subjects and stories to business topics. Although Alicent tried to add a funny anecdote, Daemon interrupted her, continuing his thought.

"I mean, if you don't have anyone to give it all to, what's the point of all this?" He asked, spreading his hands.

"I think Jace would be a better fit." He said, several people moved uneasily on their seats.

She saw Aemond reach for the glass of wine in front of him and take a swig from it, taut as a string, in his eye a fury and madness that she had never seen in another human being. After a while his father spoke up.

"Well, that's a bit of an unfair assessment on your part. However, I agree that Aemond is not as dedicated to the company as I would like.” He said. Her husband put his glass down loudly on the table, so that everyone turned their eyes to him.

"Are you fucking serious? I am not sacrificing enough for the company?” He hissed, she could feel him boiling. His hand on her thigh was clenched into a fist.

She swallowed hard, looking from him to his father. His father shifted uneasily in his seat, knowing what he was implying.

“What can I say, math is absolute. Your results could be better." He said, spreading his hands, speaking lightly as if it didn't really matter. "But of course everyone can have a bad time, it's natural."

Aemond leaned back against the back of the chair, his mouth slightly parted, his chest heaving and restless. She had seen, going to the bathroom at night, that the light was on in his office late into the night. That if he wasn't with his woman, he was still working. For some reason her heart clenched tight.

“My husband works from morning to night. Even when I'm asleep he's still doing reports. Are the results he is supposed to strive for even achievable?” She blurted out suddenly, frowning, causing silence at the table.

Feeling a cold sweat on her back, she glanced quickly at Aemond, fearing that he would kill her for the outburst. But he just stared at her, his gaze expressing disbelief, his mouth slightly parted.

He cleared his throat, taking a glass in his hand and taking another sip of wine, several people at the table looked at each other. His father smiled knowingly at her.

"It's nice to see such a loving and devoted married couple." He spoke calmly and she felt a lump in her throat.

She knew that he was the only one in the party who understood what their marriage really was, and he was mocking her. She flinched as Aemond abruptly got up from the table, throwing his napkin on it.

"We're leaving." He said dryly to her as he headed for the hallway. She stood up quickly, following him, terrified. His mother tried to stop them, but he didn't even look at her.

"He humiliated me and you didn't fucking say anything, as usual." He said coldly to his mother, slamming the car door behind him.

She humbly sat in the passenger side, fastening her seatbelts and closing the door behind her. He took off with a squeal of tires, causing her to be pinned to the seat for a moment.

He didn't even turn on the radio, lost in his thoughts, running his free hand over his chin and mouth. She thought, looking at him closely, that he was a really handsome man.

She smiled slightly at the thought and he looked at her suddenly. She swallowed hard and looked away.

They entered the apartment without a word. She thought that he was going to lock himself in his office as usual, but he didn't. He went to the living room and started rummaging in the bar. She stood in the corridor, not knowing what to do. She wanted to go to her bedroom, but his voice stopped her.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked indifferently, looking at her from a distance. She swallowed hard, feeling her whole body tremble. She thought that maybe this was the moment.

That maybe they will get closer to each other.

She nodded, and he took the other glass from his bar without a word. She entered the living room hesitantly, watching as he poured himself a drink. He looked at her expectantly.

"What are you drinking? Wine?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"Vodka. Vodka with orange juice." She said softly, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile.

She saw the surprise in his eye, and then something like amusement flashed across his face. He made the drink she asked for and gave it to her.

He walked around the couch and sat on it, sighing heavily, covering his face with his hand. She sat down next to him at a safe distance, pulling her legs under her buttocks, making herself comfortable. For a while they just drank their drinks in silence, not even looking at each other.

“My mother in twenty-eight years of my life never stood up for me, and a strange girl did. Funny, don't you think?" He chuckled lowly, but he didn't sound like he was enjoying it at all. She dropped her gaze, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry. All my life I watched my mother humiliate my father. I tried to defend him, but one day he told me not to do it." She said, pressing her lips together, inhaling loudly.

She realized that she had never said that out loud to anyone. She was afraid to look at his reaction. After a moment, she turned to face him. He looked at her thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

"Your father is a gambler." He said low, more stating than asking. She nodded, embarrassed, looking down, taking a swig of her drink, fiddling with the glass in her hand.

"Did your mother ever hit you?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him in surprise.

She didn't want to tell him about it, in fact, she'd rather forget about it altogether. She looked away, pursed her lips, her body trembling. For a moment she was unable to utter a word.

“When she was angry with me, she pretended I didn't exist. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week. She didn't anserw me when I spoke to her, she didn't look at me, she didn't make me breakfast for school or lunch, she didn't drive me to school. As if she didn't have a child." She said and pursed her lips, feeling tears welling up.

"That's why I can't stand it, when you pretend I don't live here." She said with a shrug, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

"I have no intention of imposing on you and I swear, I didn't know my uncle would take my college money from you." She spoke honestly, truthfully. She was having a little trouble breathing normally, her body shaking slightly.

A strong, violent shudder went through her, as she felt his large hand on her thigh. She wasn't able to move as he rode her higher, to her hips, then lower again, to her knee. She thought it was the alcohol, that they both didn't know what they were doing, but she felt wetness between her thighs.

"Look at me." He said softly, almost mildly for the way he usually spoke. She was unable to comply with his request, her body froze completely, trembling slightly.

Her lips parted slightly as she felt his hand slowly move to her hips again, but this time it slipped between her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat.

She shifted and twisted as she felt him massage her there with slow, gentle strokes. She felt her nipples harden and thought it must have showed through the thin fabric of her dress.

She thought that she needed this. She desperately needed someone's closeness, relaxation, pleasure, acceptance. Everything at once.

She didn't flinch as his thumb pushed the fabric of her panties aside and his fingers ran over her wet, throbbing, hot entrance. She heard him draw in a whistling breath, her hand set her glass lightly on the table next to her, her breathing ragged and quick.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked so quietly and uncertainly that she shivered.

She parted her shiny, swollen lips slightly, his fingers pressing steadily against her, teasing her clit. She couldn't stop her hips from moving towards his hand, a wonderful warmth spreading over her lower abdomen every time he rubbed her.

“No.” She whispered and he jumped up suddenly.

In one swift motion, he placed her on her side, laying down behind her back. She heard the sound of her belt being unfastened and shivered all over, her wetness running down her thighs. She didn't look at him, her chest heaving fast. She wondered what they were doing.

She squealed softly as he pulled her against him, feeling the material of his shirt against her back, his hot breath, his mouth against her ear, his nose teasing her cheek.

"How about we get to know each other better now? For the sake of our common, platonic acquaintance." He hummed, she heard him undo his pants, his throbbing, hard manhood hitting her buttocks hidden under her dress. She felt a tickling heat run through her body at the sensation.

"Y-yes, I guess, that's a good idea" She mumbled softly, it seemed to her that everything around her was hazy, her head was spinning with lust and desire. She thought it was pathetic, but all she wanted was to feel him inside her.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt him slide her panties off her thighs in one, swift motion, his large hands pulling up the fabric of her dress so that she could feel him now, hard and swollen.

She involuntarily lifted her thigh, allowing him to slip in, rubbing against her hot juices. She heard him inhale loudly at the sensation, snuggling her closer to his chest. They both sobbed as the tip of his cock began to press against her, pushing a little into her throbbing, fleshy inside.

"I'll just slide him in for a moment." He whispered, panting with her, their bodies shivering as he thrust deeper into her, pushing her hot walls to the limit.

"Mhm" It was all she could muster.

She moaned sweetly as he slid all the way into her, then began to move inside her suddenly, imposing an intense, fast pace, his thighs slapping wetly against her buttocks, soaked in her juices. They both gasped loudly and groaned alternately, her hand tightening on his arm which wrapped around her waist.

"Jesus Christ" He panted, feeling how tight she was, clenching around him, all hot and wet.

He sped up even more, thrusting into her more aggressively, his cock digging in with a loud slap, stretching her throbbing, swollen muscles, they both felt surprisingly close to fullfilment. He tightened his hand on her thigh which he held slightly up, allowing himself to thrust even deeper.

She sobbed loudly, as she felt his cock rubbing her exactly where she needed to, building up unbearable tension in her. She could feel his hot, quick breath on her cheek, she knew he needed it as much as she did.

If she could think coldly at that moment, she would wonder why he didn't go to his woman, but right now all she wanted was to be fulfilled.

"I'll stop soon, I promise" He whispered in her ear, and she felt such a strong shiver at his words, that she just came. She sobbed loudly, her eyebrows twisted in pain, her mouth parted in a silent moan. She heard him groan low, feeling her walls begin to tighten on him, his thrusts quick, brutal and sure.

"Oh, fuck, yes" He gasped loudly and came hard, moving for a moment longer, his cum flowing in waves inside her. They were both panting, trembling in disbelief, his terrified voice rousing her.

"You're taking pills, right?" He asked as if the pleasure had taken away his common sense. She just nodded, not having the strength to say anything.

She heard his loud exhale of relief, then his nose buried in her hair. They lay there, trying to calm down, she felt his chest rise and fall steadily, his soft cock still throbbing inside her.

She felt that both of them realized what they had done. He slid out of her suddenly, and she covered her buttocks with the dress, swallowing loudly.

She could feel his cum flowing out of her straight onto the couch. He saw it as he got up, zipping up his pants. He swallowed hard, looking at her with black eye. He got up from the couch, obviously not knowing what to say for a moment. In the end he managed only two words as he headed towards his bedroom.

"Good night."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

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mesperyiandevotee · 3 months

Text

🦄unihorns4salenotscam follow

can the nation-people rpf shippers STOP posting their headcanons and fic in the main tag????? People use the main tag for REAL information and news about the reps!

🚬fruityfag follow

says the person wiht a link to their scotnor fics in their pinned

🦄unihorns4salenotscam follow

did I say anything about NOT writing nation-people rpf AT ALL?? No?? I said to keep it out of the 👏MAIN👏 TAG. piss on the poor ass website I swear.

🌋hallgrimskirkjafucksnotredame follow

Yo guys? I think one of the nation-people found this post. Mr France literally posted this an hour ago:

🥑anavocadothaaaaaaaanks follow

NOT EVEN A THOUSAND NOTES??? I FEEL LIKE I'VE SEEN THIS EVERYWHERE

9123 Notes

🧭lostwanderer69

Hey uh........... did anyone tell the US rep that those panera bred lemonades are hella caffeinated??

🧟zombie--davie

how. how many did he drink?

🐗40to50wildhogs follow

He's literally immortal he's fine.

🦬alfredfjoneshater follow

FUCKING 12????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

👻givemeblueflowers follow

He was in the middle of drinking lemonade 13 when he kicked the bucket. Some tiktoker was recording him on a Live

👑lotrmonarchist

apparently he was with m. Denmark. who. kept drinking more lemonades until the manager cut him off...

🥀valentinorose follow

P sure dude said once he ate hellebore like salad. Not surprised.

👑lotrmonarchist

i thought he only said that to make historians leave him alone

🧭lostwanderer69

No no, I believe it

869 Notes

🪆theinn3rm3

OK. Let's settle this.

3 Notes

🎪thenightcircusstolemylunchmoney follow

🏴stopdraininmeswamp-deactivated

Anyone else notice he does this when some senator or w/e pisses him off?

🏒ruscanhockeyrpf follow

the fbi got him

#war thunder #nation people bs

10.8K Notes

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

not the swifties acting racist af after mr. korea called taylor "that one a-pop artist" 💀💀💀

❄️snowmiserbottomsurgery follow

me looking at the notes ONE FUCKING HOUR after i hit post:

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

I'm convinced tswifts has mind control powers like how england sees fairies or miss belarus sees ghosts

🥐iaminlepain follow

Everyone needs to stop spreading around that the nation people have magic powers it's been proven again and again that it's fake.

☕blackcoffeegayweexist follow

realzombiedavie why'd you use an honorific for Miss Belarus but not Mr. England?

🧟‍♀️realzombiedavie

Cuz I actually respect Miss Belarus lmao

#RIP to OPs notes #turning off my asks in case england stans come after me again

14.2K Notes

📰nationrep-rpf-confessions follow

Dear god wtf is up with all the colonizer/colony (or ex-colony) ships lately??! I know RPF is already a gray area morally, but can we at least not be gross about it?!

✂️ausprutoxicyuriscissoring

This is some of the most low effort bait I've ever seen.

12 Notes

📎cl1ppyrev1val follow

Thanks for using my correct pronouns tho ig?

📍geoguessr-lowscore follow

the "schrodinger's country person" is sending me

🗡️teutonicsword follow

#negative tag #nation people mention #doesn't op write liechtenstein x reader? why's anon salty about the pruliech?

if anon's the person i'm thinking of, they selfship with Miss Liechtenstein and harrass anyone else that selfships with her or ships her with another cuntry-person

#oh god i'm p sure i know who anon is #hasn't staff termed them like 6 times? #how many accounts have they made?

593 Notes

🐻‍❄️hibernatingkumaku follow

@ everyone asking me for the link here it is enjoy.

#hetalia #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator #i spent too much time on this

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

Note

Hello! First of all, thank you for this blog. I’ve read some of the asks you’ve answered so far and they’ve been incredibly fun and to go through and very useful <3

The problem I have is very… specific. But I figured why not share it here, you know?

A few months ago, I started leaving rants and analyses in one of my favorite AO3 writer’s tumblr ask box, regarding their fics. That kind of evolved and long story short, they’ve been following my tumblr blog for a while.

Now this obviously makes me incredibly happy. They’re not exactly popular in the whole wide fandom, per se, but they’ve kind of created a smaller fandom within the original fandom through their fics and art (which are mostly AU longfics, and art for said AUs), so this basically feels like being tumblr mutuals with someone like Neil Gaiman to me.

The problem arises in the fact that I feel like I’m being watched now. This person I look up to follows my tumblr, and knows my AO3 handle, and I have only posted a single fic so far, but I have so many other fics I want to write, and I’m always so anxious to write because I keep thinking “When I post this, are they going to see it? Read it, maybe? Are they gonna hate it? Are they gonna unfollow me because they don’t like my characterization or writing?” and I keep trying to reason with myself that part of the reason I look up to them so much is that they promote a “No judgement” policy, and part of the reason they followed me is because they liked my analysis of their work, but now I’m realizing that… I want them to read my fics. And I want them to like them and maybe I want us to be friends and not just mutuals, and I want us to freak out about each other’s fics, you know?

That is worsened by the fact that… My tumblr account is fairly new. And I have a total of 3 followers including said fanfic writer, so I feel the pressure to post fics in order to grow my tumblr circle and build a community, but that directly clashes with my desire to write something absolutely perfect so they’ll like it, which then both clash with what makes writing fic enjoyable, AKA doing it for myself and writing what I want to and how I want to.

I’m aware that I can’t control what another person likes, dislikes, or does. And that I have all the time in the world to write the fics I want and those that will make me happy without regarding what other people might think. But also… fandom are communities. And I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them, so that desire to grow my account as soon as I can is very strong simply because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see (except… y’know, maybe my favorite fanfic writer, which is a whole other level of pressure) about fics that don’t exist yet. Another part of this is the fact that, unless I get fics out, I’m relying on the fanfic writer liking my ideas and interacting to build a community.

As much as I try to convince myself to just write without care and to stop trying to control what this person does because that is completely out of my control and kind of dehumanizing on their behalf, the anxiety doesn’t subside. I don’t know what to do.

This ask was a bit of a journey for me, anon, and it took a little bit of untangling to see where you were going with it. I think this might be the central issue you're facing though:

I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them ... because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see ... about fics that don’t exist yet.

You're looking for fandom friends, and you're at the start of that journey - and I think you're doing well already by reaching out to an author you like and sending them asks about their work. Being willing to reach out and talk to people is an amazing quality, anon, and I encourage you to keep doing that. Follow more people who post things that you're interested in. Drop asks in their inbox and start a conversation.

The other half of that is giving other people and opportunity to reach out to you. You can do this by posting your thoughts about the canon your fandom is tied to. You can see a ton of examples here on tumblr where folks discuss a particular moment or scene that meant something to them.

You can also reblog asks memes, like the AO3 wrapped ones I reblogged the other day. Sometimes I see people just answer all of the questions in their own reblog, but if you want people to have an opening, just leave your ask box open and see what comes through.

If you want to talk about your own work, you can post something for WIP Wednesday or Six Sentence Sunday - or just post a scene that you've been working on and ask what people think.

Everyone starts off with a handful of followers, anon. You won't dive into a lively community overnight. You also don't have to create tons of popular fics in order to make one. Join a community that already exists. Find the people you vibe with within it. This author friend of yours might be the perfect place to start.

Even our favourite people, the ones we look up to most, are still just people when it comes down to it. If this author is as chill as you say they are, I think friendship is totally possible.

I'll open it up to the blog now. Did I read this one wrong? Do you have advice for anon? Have you been in a situation like theirs?

#asks and answers #long post

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leilakisakabiri · 10 months

Note

Loved the promises we keep ❤️, could I request for Gavi, where his obsessed with the reader (in a good way) and is very overprotective with her and their friends tease him about it ?

Match Day (Gavi)

Summary: You’ve never gone to any of Gavi’s games despite being his girlfriend. The day you finally decide to go things go far from planned.

Warning(s): This is important so please read. This post has some content related to death and kidnappings involving small children. If that is a sensitive topic for you at all, please do not read further.

A/N: Guys I can never write requests the correct way. I know what this request is supposed to be, but when I start writing I just start coming up with ideas and then the end result is always a little different than I intended. So anon, I know I made it probably a lot different than you expected but I hope you still like it, and thanks for the support! Please send requests guys I have no idea what to write about.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

You bit your lip anxiously, brows furrowed, as you read the comments on Gavi’s latest Instagram post. The two of you had been dating for nearly a year now, making your relationship public about three months ago. Since then you had been plagued with comments every day, people feeling the need to criticize everything you did, whether it was the way you posed in a photo, what you wore, or even how much you posted Gavi on your account. Nothing you did seemed to stop the backlash.

Now, however, the comments had shifted, you were no longer being bombarded daily about mundane things, instead, the comment section of Gavi’s post had been flooded with apologies and I feel so bad for hims.

Someone pointed out a few days ago that you had never attended a single one of Gavi’s games. Since then, people had gone crazy speculating if the two of you were still together, and if so, then why you weren’t supporting him like any normal girlfriend would do.

The comments only worsened with Gavi’s latest Instagram post which he shared after winning the UEFA semifinal against Italy. He thanked all his team members, the coaching staff, his family, and you for helping him to achieve his dreams and pushing him to be the best.

His fans had not taken kindly to that. His entire comment section was filled with people urging him that he could do better or chastising you for not supporting him.

You felt a pang of guilt as you continued looking through the comments. It’s not that you didn’t want to support him, or that you felt like you were above him in any way. In fact, you were always the first one to tell him how proud you were of him, always in awe of his abilities. You made sure to watch every single game, texting him whenever something especially exciting happened on the pitch to share your thoughts, whether it be something as small as a “the ref is wack” or a “you’re so insane I can’t believe you made that goal, my brain can’t process how you did that so effortlessly.”

Gavi knew that you would support him in anything, and he always made sure to remind you that even though you weren’t there it still meant so much to him that you would take the time out of your day to cheer him on. In the end, you supposed that’s all that really mattered, however, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were in the wrong.

Although he always told you it didn’t matter to him, you knew it was a lie. You had seen how excited he was when you guys first started dating and he had asked you to wear his jersey to his game. You had also seen the disappointed look on his face when you gently declined, explaining to him why you wouldn’t be able to come.

He understood, and never asked again, but in the back of your mind you knew he wished you were there supporting him like everyone else’s partners did.

Your anxiety was something you never shared a lot with anyone. None of your friends knew it played such a big part in your life, assuming if you canceled plans, it was because you just didn’t feel like going. And you played into it, becoming branded as the flake in the friend group because you would always back out of plans once a location was set.

One time you had agreed to go to the beach with your friends, everyone excited for a day of barbecuing and swimming in the salty ocean. That plan had quickly been canceled, however, once it had started downpouring and after much back and forth everyone had decided to play tourist for the day and go visit the Sagrada Familia. After seeing that text, you immediately dropped out of the plans, informing everyone that you had gotten food poisoning even though an hour earlier you were packed and ready for the beach.

The truth was that you suffered from severe panic attacks, usually triggered by large crowds.

Growing up your parents had both been in law enforcement, with your mother being a well-established Defense Attorney and your father being a credited Private Investigator.

They often told stories from their jobs at home, much to your brother’s entertainment, certain cases they were working on that had just closed, or new leads that were quick to transform into cold cases.

There had been one case however that had stuck with you, haunting you for years, causing you to always make sure that your windows were closed, and your door was locked like a mantra every night before bed.

The missing person's case involved a young nine-year-old girl, the same age as you were when you had first heard it, who had been spending a beautiful summer day visiting the local fair with her family. She had been prancing around, going from vendor to vendor, seeing what prizes they had. It had only taken a second for someone to lay their eyes on her and attack, grabbing her forcefully before turning and disappearing into the crowd. No one could do anything, everyone searched, but there were too many families, too many young girls that matched her description. It was useless.

“Poor girl and to think she was taken just because she wanted to get a better look at the pink stuffed bear. I hope the family at least gets closure.” Your mother said, shaking her head sadly.

Your brother piped up beside you, “Won’t they find her though?”

She gave him a sad smile, “It’s very unlikely hijo, she went missing on Wednesday. Usually, if they’re gone for longer than 24 hours the chances of them coming back are very slim.”

Your breath had stopped after she uttered those words. Even at nine, the realization had kicked in – you had been at the fair that same day, blissfully licking a popsicle and chatting with your friend, naïve and unaware that probably a hundred feet away from you a young girl was being ripped away from her parents, never to be seen alive again.

You hadn’t even heard her screams or pleas for help, and you had been right there.

The thought made you feel sick to your stomach, bile rising in your throat. If it was that easy to kidnap someone and take them away even when they were surrounded by people that knew them, then what was stopping something like that from happening again? Who’s to say you wouldn’t be next?

Since that day your demeanor had shifted drastically, no longer were you the same bubbly, outgoing kid, who would never shut up and always dragged her parents to new places. You had shrunk into yourself, biting your nails anxiously, eyes darting to look for nearby exits in every new location.

Your parents had taken notice of your sudden personality shift and tried to help the best they could, never bringing up cases again, even going out of their way to avoid places packed with people because they knew how easily it scared you, but the damage had already been done.

That fear, as silly as it may seem, carried into your teen years, swelling into full-blown panic attacks that were triggered by large crowds or noisy places.

The first person you had shared your condition with, aside from your family, had been Gavi.

Your friends relentlessly teased Gavi saying that he was making you even more scarce than you used to be in group hangouts, declaring that he wanted you all to himself. Gavi took all the teasing with a smile and a shoulder shrug, never denying or admitting anything, and you knew he only did it because he loved you.

It couldn’t have been easy for him to miss hanging out with his friends, whom he rarely got to see in the first place due to his busy schedule, simply to stay back with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone, but he did it every time anyways. If you didn’t go, he didn’t go, simple as that.

You squeezed your eyes shut; you knew you owed it to him.

He was always bending backwards, willing to accommodate any of your silly requests just because it made you feel safer. You knew it was time to step out of the box you had locked yourself in for way too long.

You glanced at the time, you had about thirty minutes until kick-off. You knew you would be late, but if you left within the next fifteen minutes you were confident you could make it before halftime.

You hyped yourself up. You were going to do this. No going back now.

You went to turn off the TV that had been droning on in the background, fingers hovering over the power button when an ad caught your eye.

It was an old speech from Martin Luther King, “Courage is the power of the mind to overcome fear.” He spoke before the screen cut to a page urging individuals to join the troops.

You let out a loud laugh, not believing what you were seeing, who knew an ad for the national army would get you so emotional? You weren’t someone who was super into manifestation but even you couldn’t deny this felt like a sign.

Wait a minute why was an ad for the US army playing in Spain?

You decided not to think too hard about it, instead focusing on getting ready. You dug out the jersey Gavi had given you all those months ago and put it on. You rushed to get all your things about to head out of your apartment when you realized one crucial item was missing.

You didn’t have tickets.

You let out a groan, trying to think of what to do. You wanted to surprise Gavi so you obviously couldn’t tell him, and it was so close to kick-off that tickets were no longer being sold.

You fell back onto your couch in defeat. Now what?

Suddenly you shot up, hands searching for your phone, you sent a quick text to Anna, one of Gavi’s teammate's wife’s asking her if she would be able to help you.

She responded right away telling you to come to the stadium and that she would meet you at the ticketing line.

Bless her heart.

You thanked her over and over again as you rushed to the stadium, adrenaline pumping.

You were in awe once you got off the train, Camp Nou was the biggest thing you had ever seen in your life. It was massive, expanding probably over a hundred feet in the air. You giggled seeing Gavi’s face blown up on one of the billboards.

You reached the ticketing line, thanking whatever higher power was looking out for you that it was empty.

“Hi sir, I’m here to meet a friend. She said she’s on her way down.” You informed security once you reached the gate entrance.

“Ticket?” He asked not even sparing you a glance.

“Oh sorry – uhm my friend has my ticket, and she’s inside.”

He finally looked at you, “No ticket. No entry. Now leave.”

“I understand that, but if you could just give me a minute I’m going to call-“

“I’ll tell you one more time, if you don’t have a ticket, you’re not getting in. Leave.”

You huffed, backing away, pointing at your phone, “I’m just gonna call her, okay?”

He glared at you, and you gave him an awkward smile, unsure what to do. You went to dial Anna’s number when you heard someone yelling your name. You looked up, seeing Anna waving crazily as she approached the security guard.

“Let her in, she’s with me.”

You quickly walked over to them, waving back at her.

“She doesn’t have a ticket.” The guard replied in a bored tone.

“That’s fine! She doesn’t need a ticket to go to the box, she’s with me.” Anna argued.

The guard pointed at your neck, “She doesn’t have a family pass. I can’t let her in.”

Anna huffed, “Well I do! And I’m saying she fine, she’s one of the player's girlfriends.” She held up her badge showing her VIP status.

The guard only continued to glare at her, “If she was really a player’s girlfriend, she would have already had a pass. I’m not letting her in.”

You groaned, annoyed at yourself for not coming sooner. You knew that no one at the stadium aside from the players probably knew who you were, you just hadn’t realized how many problems it would create once you did come.

“Don’t make me get Antonio.” Anna threatened.

Finally, the guard seemed to break, his eyes turning wide, “You wouldn’t.”

She nodded her head slowly, “I totally would.”

He gave you one more spiteful glare before he stepped aside allowing you to pass. You thanked him quickly, only getting a grunt in response before you greeted Anna.

“Thank you so much for coming to get me.” You said, hugging her.

She laughed as she guided you through the stadium, “No worries. I thought Marco might be the one guarding tonight, he takes his job too seriously.”

You smiled, “Yeah he seemed a little tough.”

She rolled her eyes, beginning to walk up the steps to the family section, “That’s an understatement. He’s been working here for like ever. Since before Robert even moved here. I remember the first couple of times I came to see a game and he was always interrogating me, even after I showed him my badge! I think he’s just mad, he never got a promotion.” She exclaimed.

She led you to the seats, introducing you to all the other girls.

“So, what made you finally decide to come?” She asked once the both of you were settled.

You looked around the stadium, seeing that the game was nearly through the first half, with only 15 minutes remaining.

“Change of heart I guess.” You answered vaguely, not wanting to dive too deep into it.

She nodded her head, “Well anyways I’m sure Gavi will be so excited when he sees you.”

You chuckled next to her, unsure if that was the reaction he would have.

Ever since you had opened up to Gavi about your anxiety he had been a huge support system for you, always pulling you aside to make sure you were comfortable with a situation, and he tried to avoid putting you in situations where he felt your anxiety would spike, meaning that he had banned you from all his games and practices.

You knew he would probably be shocked to see you in the stands, but you hoped he wouldn’t be so worried that he would slip up in the game.

While he had maintained that football would always be his number one priority everyone could see a shift in his demeanor since he met you. No longer was he staying hours after practice, trying to achieve the perfect curveball, instead he was putting his all during practices then driving to your apartment, annoying you while you did your homework, and passing out on the couch with you in his arms, a random movie playing in the background.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the halftime whistle. You saw Robert look up at the stands, presumably searching for Anna, before he made eye contact with you, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

He waved and walked over to Gavi pointing at the section you were in.

The midfielder raised his head at his teammates’ shouts, looking up at the stands with a confused expression.

His family already said they couldn’t come today.

His eyebrows only furrowed further when he couldn’t pinpoint a difference. Everyone was the same.

His heart stopped, and he instinctively put his hands over his eyes, blocking out the lights, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

He felt his heart rate increase rapidly and his eyes widened, because there you were, sitting pretty in his jersey, a shy smile on your face as you waved down at him.

He continued to stare at you, not believing what he was seeing. He felt anxious for you, just thinking about you sitting there surrounded by thousands of people. He quickly broke eye contact rushing into the tunnel.

You sat back in your seat confused at his actions. Was he not happy to see you? Why did he leave so abruptly?

You got your answer a moment later when your phone started beeping repeatedly indicating the flood of text messages you were receiving.

You opened it seeing them all being from Gavi, asking what you were doing here, if you were okay, if you felt safe.

You smiled at how gentle he was with you, going to respond. You were in the middle of reading a text when he sent another message causing you to lose your place.

You groaned, secretly finding it adorable how stressed he was for you. You sent him a message letting him know that you were okay, but it took five minutes of back and forth for you to convince him that you weren’t going to have a panic attack in the next twenty seconds.

In all honesty, you felt fine. Yes, every now and then the thought that you were surrounded by so many people would pop into your head, but it was starting to get easier to ignore, you just had to remind yourself that you were next to people who knew you. Plus, the game itself was an easy distraction, and after the second half started you found yourself getting into the game, yelling at the ref whenever they made a poor decision, and cheering on Barcelona as they made their way up the field.

“Oh fuck off, that should have been a freekick!’ You shouted after Pedri had been slide tackled aggressively, resulting in the boy landing rather awkwardly on his ankle.

Anna was quick to agree next to you, “C’mon, he didn’t even touch the ball. Don’t be a loser!”

You giggled at her words, enjoying how she always said whatever came to her mind. She grinned at you shrugging her shoulders as if to say she did nothing wrong.

You continued watching the game, leaning against the railing as you both chatted about your lives, interrupting each other every couple of minutes to shout something about the game.

Before you knew it the game was over, Barcelona sealing the win with a goal in the 87th minute, securing their 2-0 lead, scored by none other than Gavi himself.

You screamed, jumping around as he celebrated, running over to your section with the biggest smile on his face, kissing the crest on his jersey before he pointed up at you, mouthing the nickname he always called you.

You grinned back at him sending him down a heart which he immediately reciprocated before being tackled by his teammates.

Once the other team had left the field the celebrations started. All the players started to walk towards the fan section, taking off their jerseys and handing them to fans.

Anna had pulled you down the stairs with her, letting you know it was time to go see the guys.

You were ecstatic taking in the buzzing atmosphere around you, cheers of joy filled the air, and the stadium was filled with red and blue confetti.

Had this been what you had been missing out on the whole time?

You were so focused on making sure not to lose Anna in front of you that you hadn’t noticed the flock of people behind you, all rushing down the steps hoping to get to the players in time to get a photo or autograph.

You were about halfway down when you were suddenly shoved from behind causing you to lose your balance. You knew what was going to happen the second your feet left the ground, you shut your eyes, hands reaching out to stop your fall, but it was useless.

You landed on the ground with a hard thud, body slamming into the concrete steps, head hitting the railing on your way down.

Everything felt like it was moving in fast motion, all the bodies around you moved at a sickening pace, blurring together as you lay motionless on the ground, vision hazy as you tried desperately to calm the pounding of your heart.

You pushed yourself into action as soon as you regained some consciousness. You pushed past the legs rushing past you and pulled yourself to the side, where empty seats greeted you. You made a move to sit up but let out an audible gasp, hands going to clutch your left rib, your brain short-circuiting from the throbbing pain. You bit your lip, pleading with yourself to not over hyperventilate and make a scene.

Gavi, who had been watching you intently, eyes never leaving your figure as you made your way to him, was quick to respond to the situation.

As soon as he realized you went down, he was running, jumping over the barricade as he shoved past the people trying to grab onto him, thrusting jerseys and papers in his face for him to sign.

He felt his body pulse with anger, jaw locked, as he ran up the steps. He could faintly hear security yelling at him to come down, but he paid them no mind, only focused on getting to you.

He kept replaying the moment he saw you fall again and again in his head and each time he thought about it he only grew more livid. How dare someone shove you like that?

He finally reached you, shouting at people to move out of the way as he shoved through the crowd.

His eyes were wild and frantic as he grabbed you, helping you to a sitting position. You could see how quickly his chest was rising and falling and you wanted to tell him to breathe but the words failed to come out.

His hands gently touched your rib, applying pressure to help soothe the pain, “Are you okay baby? I’m so sorry.”

He looked so scared, and you all wanted to do was reach out and remove the lines of stress you could see forming on his forehead.

“I’m sorry are you-” The man who pushed you spoke up, realizing what had happened.

Gavi was quick to cut him off, eyes blazing as he spun around to face the man, “How fucking dare you.”

The guy held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see her!”

Gavi only grew more frustrated, taking a menacing step closer to him, teeth clenched, but you grabbed his hand, shaking your head, your voice weak, “It was an accident. Please don’t.”

Gavi’s expression softened once he looked at you, watching you clutch your side in pain as you pleaded with him. He sighed, giving the man one last glare before he backed off coming to your aid.

He pushed your hair out of your face, tilting your face, searching for any bruises.

He sighed in relief when he didn’t see anything. He went to remove his hand and you felt his breath hitch.

You looked up at him only to see him already staring at you with a beyond worried expression, face distraught, “Shit Y/n you’re bleeding from your head.” He spoke, showing you the blood coating his hand.

You felt yourself let out a breathy laugh, “Well at least I didn’t get kidnapped.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, not appreciating the joke, “I’m serious Y/n. This is bad.”

You reached out to grab his hand in your own, “I’m going to be fine. See the medics are already here.” You said, moving your gaze to the medical staff who was climbing the bleachers rapidly, eyes fixed on you.

You felt him squeeze your hand as the medics surrounded the two of you, “You’re never coming to another game again.” He warned.

You smiled at him, squeezing back, “Think I might have to break that rule."

714 notes · View notes

sebastianswallows · 11 months

Text

Beautiful memories — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (aged up)

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child, and is filled with anger and jealousy and confusion. He just doesn't know the child is his yet.

— WARNINGS: angst, just a lot of angst (eventually there will be fluff and smut, but in later chapters)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— A/N: This fic is for a prompt by @pugsnotdrugs92, and I was also asked to write a similar fic by at least one anon.

Sadly, since she gave me that prompt, Pugs has deleted her blog. I have just learned this tonight and I am... pretty damn upset, I'll say that (not at her of course 💗, but at what caused it).

I will just say that if you get hate from anyone, block them, block indiscriminately until you have peace. I hope that Pugs (and anyone who deleted their blog as part of this mess) will make an account on this hellsite again one day <3

Anyway! On with the fic. Hope you enjoy it, my dears 🌺

Nobody had any idea who turned Sebastian in. It came so unexpectedly that they almost didn’t believe it when he happened. After all, it had been two years since Solomon’s death, and everyone in Feldcroft believed he died in his sleep.

“I know it isn’t me,” she said tearfully to Ominis one day, “and I know it isn’t you.”

“And it wasn’t Anne either,” said Ominis with a shake of his head.

“Are you sure? She still isn’t speaking to Sebastian.”

“She protected him this whole time, why would she report him to the ministry now? She might not forgive Sebastian, but she wouldn’t do this to him…”

Their suspicions fell on Leander, or the goblins, or any number of rivals Sebastian had made, but none of their suspects were likely to even know the truth about what happened that day in the catacomb. It therefore stood to reason that someone had overheard them speaking about it at some point, but that did little to narrow it down — for all they knew, one of the portraits had heard them and reported it to the Headmaster.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter who told the Aurors about it. The trio rushed through their N.E.W.T.S. half-heartedly, with Sebastian unsurprisingly scoring lower than he ever had, and in their spare time they spoke of nothing but the upcoming trial.

They’d even arranged for a solicitor for Sebastian, and visited him via floo in London, but he only spoke to his client in private. And every time Sebastian walked out of the wizard’s office, he looked more discouraged than the last.

The trial took place during summer, right after their 7th year ended. Both she and Ominis attended it every day. Imelda came sometimes as well, and Poppy, and Lucan — even Garreth attended on two occasions. He’d never liked Sebastian much, but he seemed to put aside his feelings throughout all of this.

“They don’t mean to send him there, do they?” he whispered as they sat outside the courtroom one sweltering afternoon.

“Where else?” said Imelda. “They closed all the other wizarding prisons centuries ago.”

“But he’s supposed to have done it while he was still a student…”

“What d’you expect? That they’ll give him detention for murder?”

“No, but…”

“You don’t think he really did it, do you, Imelda?” asked Poppy, leaning over Garreth.

“He didn’t,” said Ominis without even glancing their way.

“That’s right,” she said from beside Ominis. “Sebastian’s done nothing wrong.”

The trial went badly almost from the start. The judge was a grey old wizard in a funny wig, and there was no jury to speak of. He seemed to treat the death of a former Auror, even one of such ill repute as Solomon, quite seriously. The Prosecution leaned into that every chance they got.

Anne was called to give testimony in the first week, and she confessed under oath what she had found when she reached the catacombs, which was enough to shock the court. Sebastian’s friends took courage from the fact that she had not actually seen what killed Solomon, but it was only a matter of the judge drawing a line between a quick succession of events.

Ominis was called to the stand as well, but lied shamelessly. Even the threat of Veritaserum from the Prosecution didn’t sway him. He knew none of them would dare submit a Gaunt to that — a rare occasion of his family name amounting to something. However, him being Sebastian’s oldest friend cast doubt upon his entire deposition…

And then, she was called to give testimony as well. Unlike Ominis, she was not sure she could afford to lie, but nothing could get her to betray Sebastian.

All that she could remember was that Solomon attacked the both of them, and both she and Sebastian felt quite threatened by him, and then somehow, between the flying curses and roving Inferi, Uncle Solomon fell dead. But that happened, after all, more than two years ago, Your Honour, and it was in a dark and gloomy cave — and oh, what were they doing there? Objection. Relevance?

Ominis and the others congratulated her on well she held her own, but deep down, she felt like she had let her best friend down — her statement didn’t put the blame on Sebastian, but neither did it exonerate him.

By the time the trial was approaching the end, their former classmates had stopped coming, and only she and Ominis were left.

“He looks so —”

“I know,” said Ominis, not wanting to hear her describe him. This was on the last day, and the judge would give the verdict.

Guilty. Six months in Azkaban.

The courtroom reverberated with murmurs from the crowd — some in approval, others in outrage.

It was a horrible sentence to hear, but it was not as bad as their worst fears — people were often given life imprisonment for the Unforgivables. Fortunately, in Sebastian’s case, there was not enough conclusive evidence either way. Still, if they were to appeal, it would take longer than six months to even have a new judge assigned to the case, so they were left with no choice but to accept it.

As the Aurors led Sebastian away, she and Ominis stood together and called out useless encouragements to their friend, telling him to have courage, to be strong, have faith that he would soon be free, but he went with the guards without looking back at them…

Most of their former classmates were shocked but seemed to think the six-month sentence would pass quickly. They knew Azkaban was pretty horrible and could remember a few things from their DADA class, but none of them was truly educated on the nature of Dementors. Ominis was. He’d been in their presence when he and his father went to visit an uncle of his who’d been sentenced for murdering a muggle. He claimed it was the worst experience he’d ever had in his life — worse than Crucio, in its own way. He still remembered how the despair lingered inside him for days.

And as time passed, she became aware of something lingering within herself as well…

By the fourth month, she had to use concealment charms around her waist when she went out in public. Ominis figured it out on his own — it was probably that echolocation spell he used to get around. He’d merely been suspicious at first, but by the fifth month…

“Can anyone else see?!”

“No, and they won’t if you just stop —”

“But this could ruin your reputation!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

“I can’t believe you! How c—”

“Ominis, shut up,” she hissed.

“But you —”

“It’s Sebastian’s!”

“… Oh. I suppose that makes it better, then.”

From then on, Ominis supported her and helped her in any way he could — which admittedly wasn’t much, as he was still getting used to living on his own after being freed from his family’s clutches. And either way, the first few months were gentle enough on her that she could cope well enough on her own. The only help she needed was preparing her small flat to host two people — and eventually three — which meant some creative furniture transfiguration to fit everything in too small a space.

Christmas arrived in the meanwhile, then the New Year. They had tried writing to him every month by then, but the authorities kept sending their letters back — none were allowed for fear of concealed enchantments, they said, and no visitations were allowed either for lower-class prisoners. It broke her heart to know him all alone throughout those rotten months and all through the holidays. Neither she nor Ominis found it in them to celebrate anything that year…

Sebastian was released in February. They wouldn’t be allowed on the island of Azkaban, but they could see him at the Ministry, where he would be transported before he was officially freed.

She and Ominis got there at sunrise, and waited for hours.

Sebastian’s assigned solicitor couldn’t be there, as he had another case, but he sent a house elf to sign the release form in his name. Anne hadn’t come either, but that was hardly a surprise…

The two of them sat alone in a busy hallway, watching witches and wizards pass through — some going in, some going out — until finally, late in the afternoon, the Auror at the front desk told them that inmate Sallow would be arriving within minutes.

“Here, here, they said this will be the exit,” she said, pulling on Ominis’ sleeve.

Two large wooden doors lay open out of which a long dark hallway extended like a neck, and on either side were doors being shut and open of ministry workers travelling through. There was constantly a small crowd of people darkening that space even further.

“I think that’s him,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes when she spotted a dark ruffled head of hair.

“Alright, stay calm,” said Ominis, taking her hand to settle her. Since he’d realised that she was pregnant, he was instinctively more protective.

“Oh, it is! It is him!” she said with tears in her happy voice.

Sebastian was led out of one of those side doors — dressed in a grey and black prisoner’s uniform, his hands and feet chained, terribly thin and tired and bent at the back, and looking as if he hadn’t slept for days…

“Sebastian!” she called out, waving to him with the hand that wasn’t in Ominis’ grasp. “Over here!”

He looked up slowly, as if doubting that he’d heard his name called. His eyes searched blearily through the crowd ahead, not really focusing anywhere, but then they fell on her. She grinned brightly when she caught his gaze.

“Y-you came?” he said, looking at the two of them like they were a dream come true.

“Of course,” she said.

“Surely you didn’t expect anything else,” grinned Ominis.

“I… I need to go somewhere, they’re taking me to… to…” He didn’t have time to explain before Aurors led him around the corner and to another room, for processing.

“We’ll be here,” she called out after him, “we’ll wait for you!”

“How does he look?” whispered Ominis. “He sounded quite weak.”

“He looks… the way he sounded,” she said, “but he’ll be alright… He has to be. We’ll make sure of it.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Sebastian stepped back outside. He was now dressed the way he was when they arrested him: a faded green sweater and black trousers with worn old leather shoes. The clothes hung on his lanky frame, his face was all angles and shadows, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a wash in the whole six months. He was, of course, without his wand as well — they’d broken that after his sentencing.

But there was a still little light still left in his eyes, and it shone when he saw his friends again. He called out her name and Ominis’, and walked toward them with feeble brisk steps.

“I can’t believe it,” he grinned weakly, his steps growing bolder the closer he got to his friends. “I never thought —”

But then he noticed their joined hands, and her swollen stomach, and it nearly stopped him in his tracks. He only caught the sight for a second before she let go of Ominis and rushed to embrace him.

“Seb,” she cried out as she jumped into his arms. She clung to his neck like a lifeline. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve… missed you too,” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

She buried her face in his neck while Sebastian’s eyes fell to Ominis — who embraced him too from the other side in an uncharacteristic display of affection, before he stood back timidly.

“How… erm, how are you?” he asked with a nervous smile, feeling more happy than he cared to admit, and relieved to have his friend back in one piece.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Sebastian. Gently, he dropped the girl from his arms and slowly pulled away.

“Of course,” she said, wiping her tears and stepping back, but keeping his hand clasped in hers. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to say anything. We just came to take you home. It’s alright now… You’re free, you’re finally back. We’ve missed you so much…”

“Home?” said Sebastian, looking between her and Ominis coolly. “Whose home is that?”

“Well… whichever one you want,” she said. “Yours or mine or…”

“I don’t think I’m ready to see Feldcroft again,” said Sebastian. “But I wouldn’t want to… impose on either of you.”

“What?” frowned Ominis. “Don’t be stup— I mean, don’t worry about that, Sebastian.”

“Oh, is there something to worry about?” he asked.

“Well —”

“We don’t need to discuss that —”

“— here.”

“— now.”

“… I see.”

“Don’t concern yourself with anything,” she smiled, stepping up to him again and embracing him loosely. “Let’s leave this horrible place first…”

They made their way out of the ministry building and through the cold London streets toward Diagon Alley, and his friends talked to him excitedly about the things that had happened: what their former classmates were doing, what they knew about Anne, even the latest Quidditch matches.

They probably felt less cheerful than they seemed, but their enthusiasm was overflowing as they prattled on about all the normal things people their age should care about, almost as if nothing bad had happened at all. They laughed, and smiled, and rubbed his back, and all the while there was in Sebastian’s gait much of the same imprisoned and defeated look as there had been when he was led out of the courtroom at his sentencing.

“We wrote to you while you were there,” she said as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

“But the damned guards never delivered them,” said Ominis.

Sebastian listened in silence, and they tacitly agreed it was because of what he had been through. He would open up to both of them in time, they were certain…

They decided to have lunch at the Cauldron since neither of them had eaten anything since morning — and they didn’t even wish to think of the food in Azkaban. They ordered sausages and eggs and mashed potatoes and a great big serving of pickled pumpkin.

Sebastian ate the least out of the three of them — and what he didn’t finish, she devoured. Ominis hid his chuckle behind a cough, while Sebastian could barely look at her. If she noticed it, she didn’t say. She just kept smiling and laughing along with Ominis…

More than ever in Azkaban, he wished he could dig a hole for himself through which to disappear. The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded, the smell of food made his stomach turn, and every scrape of a chair was like a scratch across his brain. Even sitting down was uncomfortable, his muscles too thin and his back too weak to hold him. He moved uncomfortably from one position to another, and let his friends prattle on to fill the emptiness between them.

After almost an hour, they decided to leave, and Sebastian nodded in agreement.

“I’m seeing someone at the ministry next Wednesday about a position,” said Ominis as they walked toward the fireplace. “But I can stop by afterwards if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Do you have enough chocolate at home? I can bring some more.”

“Shelves full of it,” she laughed. “But more is always a good idea. I suspect we’ll need it.”

“Well, I’ll bid you two goodbye for now, then,” said Ominis as he waved them off, blissfully oblivious to what was going through Sebastian’s mind.

“Goodbye,” she said with a tearful smile, letting go of Sebastian for a brief while to hug their friend once more.

“I’ll let you know before I arrive on Wednesday.”

“Not to worry, Ominis. We’ll be alright… Everything will be alright now.”

“I hope so…”

“And good luck with your interview!”

“Thank you… Although I’m not sure I want it.”

“Thank you, Ominis,” said Sebastian tiredly. “For… everything.”

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled. “I’m glad to have you back. We both are. Just focus on getting well again…”

Sebastian nodded, not feeling that any of their kind words were true. He disappeared in the green flames with her, wishing for once to not appear on the other end.

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