#which is why the second season is so rushed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parfaitblogs · 2 months

Text

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making.

Except for you.

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during.

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work.

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears.

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered.

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag.

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more.

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly.

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink.

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in).

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you.

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear.

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready.

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there.

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question.

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not."

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk.

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled.

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him.

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut.

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours.

But you were yet to kiss.

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable.

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him.

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you.

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze.

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head.

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down.

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh.

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing.

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead.

"No. We haven't," he agreed.

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips.

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him.

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'.

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks.

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again.

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#spencer reid: throughout the years ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

1K notes · View notes

gghostwriter · 18 days

Text

If You Love Me Right

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: Back at it again with something Short n' Sweet. Unsure if this will be the last of this album inspired fics but so far the album is still on repeat. I think out of all the fluff I've written, this is the one where I could just feel how much of a green flag Spencer would be as a partner, if only he wasn't fictional. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“Have you thought about it?” Emily asked, wine glass on hand as she slid into the seat next to you.

The sun was just starting to set, covering the lush backyard in multitude of pink & orange hues. It was a Sunday and Rossi had invited the team and their extended families for an early Italian dinner feast. When Spencer inquired about your availability, it warmed your heart to hear who you are to him.

“Are you sure you want me there, Spence?” your voice coming out soft and muffled as you burrowed yourself further into the warmth of his slender neck. His invitation was a big step in further solidifying the relationship and having been in questionable situation-ships, you had to be sure where you stood.

He pulled back, doe eyes inquisitively staring into yours. His gaze had this way of making you feel known and at home. It was as if his soul has recognized yours from eons ago and needed no further introduction.

“Of course,” his calloused fingers softly pushing stray locks behind your ears. “You’re my person now and it feels right to have you there with me.”

Emily cleared her throat binging you back to the present. “Well?”

“Thought about what?”

She nodded her head in Spencer’s direction. “Having genius babies with our boy genius?”

You softly smiled, watching your boyfriend of one year perform magic tricks for Henry and Michael. It wasn’t like it never crossed your mind. If you were being honest, by the sixth date and the first time he stayed over for the night, the idea of growing old and starting a family with Spencer by your side had started to solidify.

“Maybe,” you drawled out. A half truth that the seasoned profiler caught on right away.

“And has this—” she lifted her hands to form quotation marks in the air. “‘maybe’ been discussed with the potential baby daddy?”

You brought the wine glass up to your lips, the outer corner of your lips tugging upwards your face as you took a sip. Dating a man of Spencer’s caliber had given you the comfort and stability to discuss any little insecurity, adoration, and realization without the unease of thinking he’d judge you for it. Gone were those nights of second guessing and reading too much in between the lines and in its place were honest discussions between two consenting adults.

It was a real breath of fresh air.

“Do you think we should have a baby?” you casually asked, laying on his lap as he was propped up against the headboard with a book on hand. “I mean, not this second but—yeah, do you?”

There was a rustle of pages before a soft thud. “Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way but are you by any chance ovulating?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He smiled, looking down at your slowly reddening cheeks. I—uh, have actually been keeping track—” he bit his lip before rushing out to explain himself. “—not to use the information for nefarious reasons but my brain just started to notice the patterns and it feels like an invasion of your privacy and—are you angry?”

“Oh Spence, no. Not at all,” your hand twining with his to stop its nervous movements. “It might be weird but I know you meant well. Now, will you tell me some facts about why you thought I was ovulating?”

“Well, studies had shown that women feel more flirty, sociable, and more physically attractive right before and during ovulation. Some studies also support the idea of increased libido which makes sense since that is the peak window for propagation of the human species.”

You giggled, always welcoming his rambles even if it had to do with your own reproductive system. “Right, but you know what else got me thinking about it?”

A slight scrunch in between his eyebrows appeared as his mind no doubt rewound the day for any trigger. His eyes brightening when it clicked. “Was it the picture of me holding Henry and Michael?”

“Definitely,” you breathed out, starting to feel warm just thinking about how secure his hold was to the newborn babies and that smile on his face that reached his molten hazel eyes and radiated from his whole face.

He pressed feather-like kisses all over cheeks and forehead. “There’s actually also a study on why that affected you so much. It all comes down to women seeing their partners acting as providers—” he cut himself off to land a kiss on your lips. “—I’m not saying no—I’d actually really like that but maybe we can revisit the idea again in two weeks? I want to make sure this is something you really want and not something your biology has dictated on you.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. I love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Spencer’s laughter floating through the air brought you out of your reverie. A slight shiver passed through you—either from the wind or the imagery of him carrying Michael and holding hands with Henry on the other as they slowly made their way back to their mother.

You turned to face Emily, no doubt that the blush on your cheeks giving you away. “Maybe.”

“Huh,” she tilted her head slightly to the left—a subtle tick you’ve grown to read into.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in to clink her glass with yours and a teasing smile forming on her face. “Nothing. Well—you’re welcome, by the way. And as a thank you, what do you think about naming the maybe baby after me?”

You laughed. The trio had taken full credit for bringing the couple together—something that they had always brought up like it was their greatest contribution to earth.

A layer of warmth was added to your shoulders and a faint scent of books and wood wafted to your nose. Tilting your head backwards, it was Spencer sans his black coat that was now adorning your body. His garment effectively marking you as an extension of him, as if the necklace around your neck with his initials 'SR' wasn't enough already. A priceless jewelry that had a partner with your own initials that found its home around his neck. “Hi love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” leaning down to give your lips a kiss. “You looked cold.”

You were both wrapped up in your own little bubble to notice Emily’s eyebrows arching towards her hairline. “It won’t be long now, I guess. So how many?”

“One would be cute—” your eyes never lingering on his face as if you were tracing the all his angles and memorizing all the stubbles that had started to grow on his jaw line.

Spencer without further explanation continued on. “—two would be better.”

“You know, you both have to stop finishing each other’s sentences, it’s getting creepy,” Emily quipped.

You both laughed, turning to face her, and although your gazes were no longer meeting, the gentle caress of his thumb on the back of your hand was enough to communicate everything and anything in between.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spotify

783 notes · View notes

understandableparadox · 6 months

Text

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

#hazbin hotel

1K notes · View notes

rin-may-1103 · 29 days

Text

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #danny phantom #damian wayne #damian al ghul #biggest regret au #part two #danny is an al ghul #demon twin au

782 notes · View notes

leahwllmsn · 2 months

Text

the reason

alexia putellas x reader

When you showed up to your first training session of the season, you weren’t expecting to see your ex-something standing in the middle of the locker room.

; some angst, happy ending though, just a bunch of miscommunication

“Y/N! You’re here, perfect,” Jonas gave you a huge smile as he directed you towards the woman you hadn’t seen in months. “Meet our new signing!”

You swore you’d never seen Jonas smile that big during your time at Arsenal, which was understandable if he managed to sign Alexia Putellas to this damn club.

You looked at her outstretched hand, acting as if this was the first time you two met—acting as if she didn’t break your heart just a few months ago.

At once, the memories came rushing in and you looked up to meet her eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart started to pick up its pace. For a second you were shocked at how familiar it was, to have her staring at you like you were interesting to her, but you quickly shook it off. You knew it was all a lie, a façade. Alexia was good at making people think they matter to her when she couldn't care less about anybody but herself.

You ignored her and you ignored Jonas’ yelp of surprise when you didn’t kiss the ground Alexia walked on. You went straight to your cubby and did your usual routine.

Training gear checked.

Boots checked.

Hair tie checked.

Alexia standing next to you—

“What?” you hadn’t meant to sound harsh, or maybe you did. You didn’t really care.

Out of all the things you expected to come out of her mouth, an apology for breaking your heart, or a simple ‘how are you’ or whatever, you hadn't expected her to say, “I missed you.”

You were indifferent to her being here before (that was what you convinced yourself anyway), but now you were livid.

“Seriously?” your voice apparently was louder than you intended because you could feel a couple of eyes on you.

“Y/N…” maybe it was hearing her say your name again after all this time. Maybe it was the way she said your name with a hint of longing when she had no right to do so after what she did to you. Maybe it was the way she was standing there within your reach after you thought that you were never going to see her again.

You think it was all of it combined that made the ache in your heart, which you’ve managed to seal tight all this time, to seep through the seams and inject itself back into your veins.

Taking a deep breath, you will yourself to stare into her eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Alexia.”

You heard everyone inhale a sharp breath all at once as you exited the room. You definitely were getting an earful from Jonas but you didn’t care.

Alexia could really go fuck herself for all you care.

—

It was Leah that Jonas assigned to talk to you.

You hated it because aside from the fact that she was your captain in the Lionesses, she also had known you since you were barely in diapers, seeing as your mothers were best friends.

You were hiding in your usual spot, the old storage room that no one used anymore.

“Want to talk about why you were so rude to one of the best footballers on this planet?”

You scoffed. Great. Even your best friend was kissing Alexia’s ass. “She’s overrated.”

Leah sat down on the floor next to you, grabbing the back of your shirt when you went to stand up. “You’re not going anywhere, mate.”

“You can't make me talk,” you scowled at her. “I just hate her. Don’t really care if I was rude to Jonas’ newest favourite.”

Leah laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Chill out will you! You’re acting so tense.”

“I’m not tense! It’s just been a shitty morning, with her being here and all.”

“I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Leah looked at you questioningly. “You’re jealous of her or something?

You barked out a laugh at that. That was good. “Hell no. Why would I be jealous of her? Like I said, she’s overrated.”

“Then?”

“Then nothing,” you rolled your eyes. God, why was it so hard to be moody about your ex in peace?

“If it’s nothing then you wouldn't mind going back there and being nice to her, yeah?”

“No.”

There was no way in hell you would be nice to Alexia. No. fucking. way.

“Y/N. Jonas is counting on me to talk some sense into you, he's scared Alexia is going to resign on the first day here if her teammate is rude to her.”

That sounded like a great idea, you thought. Just as you smiled at Leah, she was frowning at you.

“Y/N. Be nice. Please. For me?”

You always did have a soft spot for Leah.

“Fine.”

—

Everyone was already at the field when you returned with Leah.

You weren't sure who witnessed your little interaction with Alexia earlier so you kept to yourself for a bit, not wanting anyone to ask anymore questions.

You got through the training smoothly and it was over before you knew it. You kept on avoiding Alexia’s gazes, trying your best to pretend that she wasn't there at all. In your mind, Alexia was still in Barcelona, right where she should be.

Not in London Colney here with you. Definitely not.

“Hola.”

Damn it.

You were putting your stuff into your duffle bag aggressively, lifting your head just for a second to glare at her.

Alexia seemed unperturbed at your cold gaze, sitting down on the cubby next to yours so she could look up at you and catch your eyes.

You were always a sucker for her stupid puppy dog eyes.

But you were stronger now. You were.

“Y/N,” she tried again, her voice a whisper. “Can we talk? ”

You replied with a simple “No.”

“We are going to be teammates, we should at least be civil to one another, no?

“No,” you rolled your eyes, who did she think she was? “I’ll pretend you don't exist and you can do the same.”

Alexia scoffed at you. “Why are you being so difficult?”

That got your attention. “Me?” you raise your voice and Leah suddenly stepped in between you two, probably fearing that things might escalate.

“Hey,” Leah gave you a pointed look. “People are watching.”

You glanced back and people were watching, most had a curious look on their faces. No one knew you and Alexia knew each other, but everyone knew you and they knew you were anything but hostile. So this attitude might be slightly disconcerting for them.

You took a deep breath and willed yourself to calm down. You need time to process the events that happened today.

“I’m just gonna go,” you told Leah. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Not sparing Alexia another glance, you grabbed your bag and took off.

Tomorrow. You’ll face her again tomorrow and maybe you can try to be civil with her. Only for the sake of your teammates.

—

“You know… if you keep on staring at me like that, one might think you’re in love with me.”

You thought you were being discreet with your gazes towards the brunette who was sitting a few seats apart from you, acting as if you were staring at the ocean instead.

But apparently that wasn’t the case and as soon as you heard those words come out of her mouth, you choked on your ice tea and patted your chest repeatedly to stop the coughing fit.

The brunette beside you laughed and you halted your movements to stare again because wow, the pictures really didn’t do Alexia Putellas justice.

She turned towards you and held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Alexia.”

You accepted her hand with a bashful smile. “I know.”

She raises her eyebrows at you.

You could feel the blush rising to your cheeks, trying to play it cool with a simple shrug of your shoulders. “Who doesn't know Alexia Putellas at this point? It would be weird if I didn’t.” you paused. “And I wasn’t staring at you, by the way.”

“Oh, you weren’t?” Alexia smirked. She slid into the empty seat between you and you could feel your heartbeat racing once she caught a whiff of Alexia’s perfume. A strong flowering scent. Huh. You've never thought about what Alexia Putellas would smell like, but it probably wasn’t this. It somehow made you even more attracted to her.

You nodded, playing with the straw of your drink. “I totally wasn’t.”

“Then what were you staring at?”

“The… sea.”

Alexia laughed once more and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Her laugh was infectious.

“Okay, sure,” Alexia took a sip of her drink. “Just so you know though, I wouldn’t mind if you were staring at me.”

You hummed, pretending to be in thought. “I’d rather not.”

“No?” Alexia raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “Then you’d think I’m into you, or something.”

“Well aren’t you?”

You clicked your tongue. Her ego was through the roof. You get it though, if you looked like that, you’d think everyone was into you too. “No.”

“Your stare suggests otherwise.” Alexia smiled smugly.

You stepped down from your stool and put your hand out. “Why don’t you take a stroll around the beach with me?”

When Alexia was still staring at your outstretched hand, you motioned for her to take it. Alexia complied and let you drag her away to the shore.

“It was getting kinda boring, wasn't it? Just sitting by yourself at the bar,” you explained, swaying your hands back and forth as you walked along the coast. “I don't know if you know me, but I play football professionally too. For Arsenal and England. I’m here on holiday with my family but they can get kind of crazy sometimes so I want to have some alone time for a bit.”

“I know the feeling. I'm here with my sister but she drives me crazy most of the time.” you laughed along with her.

“So you’re free then,” you halted your steps. “Spend the day with me?”

Alexia gave you a huge smile and you wanted the waves to swallow you whole, because how can someone be so gorgeous?

“I thought the answer was obvious the moment I let you drag me away from my unfinished cocktail.”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That’s okay,” Alexia leaned forward and whispered in your ear. “As long as you admit that you’re attracted to me at the end of the day.”

You gulped, the close proximity was making your head spin. “Never,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“We’ll see.” Alexia leaned back and grinned. “For now, can we go see some dolphins?”

You had already seen the dolphins the previous day. You hated it because the dolphins thought it was a good idea to splash water all over your brand new Dior bag and you swore you would never come back.

But Alexia was looking at you with wide, excited eyes and a smile so bright that you didn’t have the heart to say no to her. So you went to see the dolphins and you did everything Alexia wanted.

The entire day, Alexia didn’t let go of your hand and you swore you had never been happier.

—

You and Alexia ended up talking to each other everyday ever since the Ibiza trip. She didn't exactly tell you that she felt the same way you did, but you figured that her constant flirting was supposed to clue you in.

It went on for months and before you knew it, you were hopelessly in love with Alexia.

Alexia was kind, thoughtful, she was so passionate about the sport that you both loved so dearly and you were just a goner.

Who wouldn’t be, honestly?

It was certainly a bonus point that she was super attractive too.

In the morning when Alexia would call you on facetime, and you were greeted with her face still full of sleep, blanket engulfing her as she recounts to you her plans for the day, you couldn't do anything but stare helplessly at how good she looked and how extra raspy her voice was.

You and Alexia never put a label on things but you figured you were sort of… dating? Or it was a… situationship? Whatever it was, you knew it was beyond the level of friendship.

You loved your friends and you called them on the daily, but you couldn't imagine doing it to this extent. Alexia would call you in the mornings and at night. You’d call her when you got off training, you’d call her when you heard a funny joke Kyra said and you wanted to tell Alexia about it. She would call you when she got anxious because she was starting her match and her doubts of still being not good enough post ACL still haunted her.

You loved Leah, your bestest friend in the whole world, but you couldn't imagine telling her the things you told Alexia in the early hours of the morning. There were some things that you didn’t think you'd share with anyone, but with Alexia, it was… simple. It was easy. It felt right.

But maybe it was all in your head.

It went on for so long that you didn’t even think labeling it was important anymore. You were Alexia’s and she was yours.

She told you she loved you, for fuck’s sake.

She told you she loved you and one day when you were at camp, Lucy mentioned how Alexia was seeing someone.

Someone who you thought was you, but how could that be if Lucy was talking about having a double date at the best paella place in Barcelona with Alexia and her girlfriend when you were all the way in London.

Apparently Alexia’s girlfriend was someone named Olga and they'd been dating for a few months and your blood pressure went through the roof.

A few months.

You thought you were dating Alexia for a few months (one year actually, but you didn’t give a fuck anymore).

You ignored Alexia’s call that night because, what the fuck? She had a girlfriend in Spain and you were what? Her side piece? That thought made you sick.

You didn't reply to Alexia’s messages anymore. Too hurt, too embarrassed at everything.

don’t text me again, Alexia

I mean it

You declined all her calls and never bothered replying to her texts that were pleading to tell her what was wrong.

Eventually when weeks passed by and you still gave no response, she stopped trying.

You didn't know if you were relieved or disappointed.

—

It seemed like the universe had something against you because as soon as you got out of your car, Alexia was also getting out of her car across from you.

If you weren't so pissed off at the reminder that she was actually a part of Arsenal now, you would laugh at how comical this sight was—you scowling at her and Alexia scowling back at you.

“Bon día,” Alexia had the decency to greet you.

“Morning,” you grumpily greeted back.

You walked side by side into the building. you didn't know why, you could have walked faster, or slower, or turned in the other direction so you wouldn't have to walk by her side, but you did it anyway.

Despite only having hung out with her in person a few times during your time together/not together, you kinda missed her.

“Is this you finally being civil with me?”

“I still hate you.”

“Okay ouch,” Alexia placed a hand over her heart, pouting at you. You continued to scowl at her, trying to hide how your heart had betrayed you and skipped a beat.

Before you had the chance to respond, you two arrived at the locker rooms. Only Leah was there, who immediately came over and sling an arm around your shoulder and grinned cheekily at you. “Best mates already, are we?”

You flicked Leah’s forehead, causing her to yelp and do the same to you. “Leave me alone, Leah,” you grumbled.

“Someone’s moody this morning,” Leah whispered to Alexia, to which the latter hummed in agreement.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate you both?”

Leah chuckled, whispering something to Alexia that you didn't quite catch. Nor did you care enough to find out.

How funny was your life right now? Your best friend and your… something were friends. Ugh. Your ex-something, now your teammate. Ugh.

You were too caught up in unpacking your things that you didn't notice Leah calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“I’ve been calling you twice! Alexia distracting you that much?” Leah said teasingly.

You looked towards Alexia who was changing her clothes, leaving her in a Nike sports bra and her abs on full display. Fuck. Bad idea.

“Oh fuck off,” you quickly turned back around, feeling the heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Stop being so moody,” Leah shook her head in amusement. “You’re terrible when you’re moody.”

“Not moody.”

Leah chuckled like she couldnt believe you but she let it go. “We’re planning a welcome party for Alexia this weekend at my place. You’ll be there, yeah?”

Your reply was immediate. “No.”

“Oh I’m hurt,” speak of the devil. Alexia joined in on your conversation with Leah, now all dressed in her Arsenal training kit. Your eyes raked up and down her body. You didn’t have time to admire her in her Arsenal kit yesterday. (You wouldn't admit that it looked good on her.) “You won’t attend your own teammate’s welcoming party? Dios mío. So much for being a team.”

“Not if the teammate is you,” you retorted.

Alexia pouted at you. Leah looked like she was having the time of her life watching your interaction. “Do not be like that, darling,” Alexia teased. You badly wanted to smack her in the face. “You did say you have always wanted us to play together. Now we are on the same team and you are acting like you hate me?”

At that your eyes bulged out of its sockets. Leah looked mostly confused. “I never said that!”

Alexia only smirked at you as she passed by, blowing you a kiss before she went off to the pitch.

“She’s so bloody annoying,” you grumbled after her. “I never said anything like that!”

—

The first time you argued with Alexia on the pitch, it was entirely your fault. You could admit this.

Alexia was dribbling the ball—looking so good doing it, like everything was so effortless for her, that you sort of got annoyed and went in to tackle her. It could’ve ended badly if it weren’t for Alexia’s quick reflexes.

“Oh come on! That’s a yellow!” Alexia looked genuinely pissed off, she quickly stood up, throwing her hands in the air.

“Oops,” you shrugged, mockingly patting her cheeks. “Good reflexes though.”

All your teammates looked away as Jonas scolded you in front of everyone—not that you care, you weren’t hearing a word he said. You were too busy sending a smirk Alexia’s way. You didn’t look guilty in the slightest and that was probably what made Alexia’s blood boil.

She took her water bottle and she didn’t just spray water on you, she turned the cap and poured the whole thing on top of your head.

“Oops,” Alexia mocked your earlier words.

Oh you were livid. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!”

Alexia leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You should work on your reflexes, babe,” before walking away. She didn’t get to walk very far before you ran after her and jumped on her back, tackling her to the ground.

You didn’t know what you wanted to do but you were so annoyed at Alexia—annoyed that she was able to get under your skin, annoyed that she was so attractive and you were still so attracted to her even though she broke your heart! It was ridiculous.

You were tackling each other on the field, and you could hear Alexia start to laugh and you realized it was because you were tickling her and Alexia was ticklish.

“Y/N! Stop! What the hell!” You sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

(It was definitely not because of how addictive the sound of Alexia’s laughter was.)

“Say sorry!” You shouted back, you were straddling her at this point, your hands still poking at her sides.

“No!”

“Alexia! Say sorry!”

“No! Get off!”

“I’m not getting off until you say sorry!”

All your teammates were watching the scene with bewilderment on their faces. Earlier, when you tackled Alexia, everyone was holding their breath, anticipating the bomb that was due to explode anytime (the bomb here being the tension created by you and Alexia being in each other’s vicinity).

Now, everyone was just amused. You two were still taking turns straddling each other, trying to outpower the other, a scowl ever present on your face (although if one were to look closely, you did let a smile slip). Everyone thought you hated each other. Jonas was making himself go crazy trying to find the history between you, needing to find a solution to make you like each other as one of you leaving was not an option.

Now, everyone could see that you two were fine. Some unresolved tension, for sure. Full on hatred? Not so much.

—

The days passed by pretty quickly and the next thing you knew you were standing in front of Leah’s door, about to enter Alexia’s welcoming party, the one you were adamant to not show up to.

Leah then threatened to take away your PlayStation for a month to which you finally caved in with the biggest sigh and “Remember Lee, it’s not about me wanting to be friends with Alexia, okay? I literally cannot live if you revoke my PlayStation privileges!”

You entered Leah’s place with an even more sour mood than you were at training this week.

Training was fine, as always. Having Alexia there to train with you in London Colney was not fine.

(Although you couldn’t help but notice how well you and Alexia played with each other, managing to have some sort of telepathy that let you two find one another on the pitch.

Just your damn luck.)

You made your rounds and spoke with everyone. You were less tense now, somehow having adjusted to Alexia being around.

You could see the relief in Leah and Kim’s face when they saw you weren’t trying to start fights with the new signing anymore.

So much so that they decided it was you and Alexia that had to be the one to get more beers in Leah’s pantry. You took the instructions with a scowl, Alexia trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You entered Leah’s pantry (if one could even call it that, it was spacious, Leah had more space than one living alone would need), and you were about to tell Alexia to hold the door open and not let it shut because the handle was broken and Leah still haven’t gotten it fixed when Alexia shut the door closed.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Guess we’re stuck here.”

—

After both of you had tried your luck by pulling the door handle and nothing seemed to work, you two settled on the floor, sitting on opposite ends of the room.

You were scowling at the blonde, who was looking everywhere but you, a guilty expression on her face.

“This is all your fault,” you were sulking. You both stupidly didn’t bring your phones and you couldn’t call anyone for help. “This is all your fault,” you repeated.

“I told you, I’m sorry,” Alexia mumbled, bringing her knees to her chest. You hated that she looked like a kicked puppy.

You sighed. Maybe you were being too harsh on her. “I’m surprised there hasn't been an uproar online with you leaving Barcelona,” you changed the subject.

Alexia raised an eyebrow at you, not expecting you to start another conversation apart from telling her that being stuck here was Alexia’s fault. “It hasn't been announced yet,” she clarified.

“Well, goodluck,” you felt bad for her. Just a bit. “They’re going to rip you apart for that. Unloyal, how you downgraded, and all that.”

Alexia let out a big sigh. “I know. I have prepared myself for it. The goodbye video is a good one though, it was so emotional, I even cried. I just hope people understand.”

You looked at her, you still couldn’t understand her. “I thought you loved Barça? You are quite literally a carbon copy of Leah with Arsenal.”

“I did. I do. I love the club with all my heart, you know that.”

When you didn't reply Alexia continued.

“There were a lot of factors, to put it simply. Financials, is one. I didn’t like that in order for me to receive more, someone has to get less. We won the Quadruple, we won a lot of fucking things for the club, there should be enough money going around. Anyway, I won’t go into detail because it is a lot more complicated than that. Then there was going to be changes, with Jona leaving and all. I didn’t like where it was headed.”

Alexia took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to leave everyone behind, but I felt that it was for the best. They still have Marta and Patri so I’m leaving them in good hands.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you murmured, now feeling guilty for your behaviour towards her ever since she got here.

Alexia turned to look at you and gone were the wistful look in her eyes. She looked serene—if that was even possible after leaving the club of your life.

“Then you were also a factor, definitely,” Alexia said so softly that you might have missed it. “I didn't know why you were suddenly ignoring me, I feel like I definitely did something wrong because we were fine one day and not the next. I want to apologize for whatever it was. I really do miss you.”

You could only look at her as you processed her words. Your loud laugh broke the silence “Me? You moved to shitty Arsenal because of me? Please be serious.”

Alexia laughed at that. “Don’t call your club shitty. I think it’s quite a good club. With an interesting league.”

“If you're comparing it to Barcelona—“

“I like it here so far,” Alexia interjected. “You should be proud of your club.”

“Of course I am—”

“And you’re here so it’s definitely a bonus point.”

“No, no, wait, just pause,” you ran your hand through your hair as you took a deep breath. What the fuck was going on. You stood up and started pacing the floor, Alexia looking at you expectantly. “You,” you pointed at her. “Moved to Arsenal, to bloody London,” you waved your hand around, “because of me?” you pointed at yourself in disbelief.

“One of the reasons, yes.”

“No!”

Alexia looked taken aback at your outburst, her face showing that she was amused at you. “What do you mean no?”

“No as in you're lying.”

“I’m not lying,” she rolled her eyes at you.

“Yes, you are.”

Alexia mumbled some Catalan you didn't understand and stood up, inching closer to you. When she was about to take your hand, you immediately pulled away, “Stop,” you warned her, “you have a girlfriend.”

“What?” Now it was you who was taken aback by her outburst.

“I know all about your Spanish girlfriend,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “So cut it out.”

“I don’t have a Spanish girlfriend?” Alexia was confused and you were too, but you know she has a hot, Spanish girlfriend somewhere in Barcelona and it was igniting the rage in the pit of your stomach.

“Lucy told me that you went on a double date with her and Ona. While we were together,” you scoffed. “So not only do you have a girlfriend but you cheated.”

“What!” Alexia looked at you like you were crazy. “Cheated? Sí, I was in love with you, but we were never together?!”

Your jaw went slack at that, how could she?

“Never together- all the daily calls and texts and the I love you? Jesus, Alexia. What was all that?”

Realization seemed to dawn on her face at the same time as yours. There was a chance that… Alexia didn’t think you were together when you thought otherwise…?

“I didn’t—” Alexia sighed, shaking her head. “I thought we were friends!”

You groaned, palming your face. Oh my god. This must singlehandedly be the most humiliating point in your life. You were heartbroken over someone who didn't think you were together? “What kind of friends—”

“Okay, okay,” Alexia stepped closer to you, her hands reaching out in an attempt to touch yours. “Lo siento. I really am.” You let her touch you, Alexia immediately holding your hands and running soothing circles with her thumb.

“I didn't know you felt that way towards me, honestly,” Alexia continued. “I was trying to forget you, so I went out with someone for a bit but it was nothing serious. I—wait, was that why you stopped talking to me?”

Still feeling the embarrassment, you pulled your hands from her grip and began walking towards the door. Before you remembered that you were locked in. Great.

Alexia caught up to you, essentially blocking your path. Not that you could go anywhere anyway.

“Y/N,” Alexia gave a small laugh and you frowned at her. What was so funny about this? “You thought we were together?”

Your frown deepend even further, hearing her say it out loud was so, so embarrassing. “Yeah, whatever, go ahead and laugh at me.”

Alexia turned serious at your tone. “I am not laughing at you. I promise,” she took your hands in hers. “I think it is… cute. We both suck at communication. I’m sorry.” Alexia brought your hands up to her lips, pressing the softest kiss to your knuckles.

You wanted to die, in a good way. But you were still so embarrassed about this whole thing, so you remained quiet.

“I was in love with you,” Alexia clarified. “Still am. But I did not know that you feel the same—“

You groaned. “I don’t call my friends 24/7 or end everything with an ‘I love you’. Of course I was in love with you!”

“I am oblivious, I know!” Alexia laughed. “Sorry! But you never clarified things.”

“I thought it was obvious,” you pushed her shoulder halfheartedly. “If we were to date and you do those things with someone else, I would be concerned.”

“Never,” Alexia placed her hands around your waist, having you essentially pressed against her. “Sorry again about everything.”

“You should be,” you whispered, the close proximity making your heart beat wildly against your chest. “You broke my heart without knowing it.”

“Won’t ever do it again, te prometo,” Alexia rested her forehead against yours. Alexia filled all your senses and you were overcome with a wave of contentment. “Just so we are clear… you like me in a romantic sense and you want to date me, romantically, yes?”

You could only roll your eyes, grabbing her by the neck to pull her in for a kiss.

Suddenly the door flew open, causing you two to break apart. It was Leah, a bewildered look on her face with a screwdriver in hand. You didn’t even realize she was trying to open the door.

“I thought you two hated each other?!”

You opened your mouth to reply but you didn't get the chance to, not when Alexia grabbed your jaw to turn you towards her and placed her lips back on yours.

“Seriously?!”

You heard Leah muttering curse words as she slammed the door shut and Alexia giggling against your lips at the same time. You were the most content you had ever been.

—

bonus:

When you and Alexia weren’t throwing snide remarks at one another, people started to look at you weirdly, apart from Leah, obviously, who was sporting the biggest scowl on her face.

You didn't get a chance to talk to her after she caught you, your best friend prying the door open once more then left without a word, trying to act like a good host and preparing unnecessary foods and drinks for everyone. Basically, she was ignoring you.

You've known Leah all your life and you knew she was pissed that she was kept in the dark about your… developments with Alexia. To be fair, the developments did happen a few minutes before Leah got the door to open, so you didn't really have time to tell her.

Plus, you hadn't told her about how you and Alexia were sort of together but not really for a year and you knew Leah would be even more pissed that you decided to omit this from her. You loved Leah for it though. You knew she meant well. She was very protective over you.

You knew better than to approach Leah when she was like this, opting to leave her to brood in peace for a few days.

You would tell her about Alexia eventually, never really one to keep secrets from her.

At the thought of Alexia, you instantly had a smile on your face.

You two were back to the way it was before—regular calls and texts, only this time you could meet each other for coffee in between the time you weren’t calling or texting each other.

This time, you two were on the same page. You were in love with each other. No one else. And you were dating each other—no one else.

Training became… eventful.

Not only were you and Alexia civil, you two were making jokes with each other. At one point, you even managed to hug her discreetly, when no one was around—or so you thought anyway.

“Whoa.”

You instantly pulled back at the voice, it turned out to be Mariona, Alexia’s Spain teammate.

“Since when is La Reina a hugger?”

“Shut up, Mario,” Alexia glared at her, although you could see the small smile on her lips. “We are dating. Of course we hug. Just be thankful we were not in the middle of making out or doing something worse.”

What?

You could only stare at Alexia in shock, mouth hanging open. Mariona was the same, she was catatonic.

Whatever you were expecting to come out of Alexia’s mouth, it wasn't that.

“I think you broke poor Mario,” a voice chimed in from the doorway. “I was the one who walked in on their making out session,” Leah continued, stepping into the room. “That was pretty traumatizing.”

Leah was looking at you with that glint in her eyes, one that told you all was well. “You still mad at me Williamson?”

Leah scoffed. “Oh please. Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I didn’t tell you Ale and I were a thing, and because you had to walk in on me being all over her- in my defense, have you seen her? How could you not want to jump her bones—”

“Okay, nope!” Leah closed her eyes with a grimace, trying to burn the memory away. “Please, please keep it in your pants.”

You shook your head fondly at her, moving forward to engulf her in a hug. “Dinner at my place tonight?”

Leah pulled back and placed the sloppiest kiss on your cheek. “Sure, darling. I know you’ve missed me!”

“Lee! What the fuck!” Leah was giggling and you were shooting daggers at her. Alexia was looking at the both of you with amusement on her face.

Mariona suddenly burst into laughter, taking everyone by surprise. “This is gold,” Mariona said in between her laughs. “So I am not the only one who moved countries for a girl?”

Alexia looked genuinely offended at the accusation. “I did not move here because of a girl!”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, “Oh you so did, babe. That’s okay, no one is holding it against you. I am pretty hot.”

Alexia was about to counter your statement when Mariona chimed in, an ear-splitting grin on her face, “I am going to go tell everyone about this.”

“What- no! Mario!” Alexia went to chase after the brunette who had made her exit. You could hear their voices echoing throughout the hall. “I moved here because of a lot of reasons, you know this!”

“So,” Leah kicked your shoe to get your attention. “Alexia, huh? Didn't you say she was overrated?”

“Shut up.”

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

768 notes · View notes

yumeka-sxf · 10 months

Text

In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #twiyor #sxf anime #becky blackbell #yuri briar

2K notes · View notes

obae-me · 9 months

Text

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.��

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me nightbringer #nightbringer spoilers

1K notes · View notes

daintylovers · 4 months

Text

imagine moving to beacon hills around season one. right around the same time, allison moves in. it's nice not being the only new girl, so you two quickly become friends.

imagine meeting lydia for the first time. it happens in your fourth class of the day, you two are assigned to be partners for the semester. albeit, at first she isn't thrilled, but once she gives you a chance, everything changes. she's found someone like-minded for once in this small town. someone as intelligent, yet fashionable as her. she thinks for a quick second, if she liked girls, she would love you.

imagine seeing stiles for the first time. seeing- not meeting, because the boy can only gawk at you from across the hall. it's definitely weird and a little unsettling at first, but it's nice to be admired? right?

imagine finally talking to the poor boy for the first time. it had to be you who spoke first, his brain going a mile a minute. it happens a few days later, when lab partners are assigned. stiles almost faints when he hears your names paired together. scott has to be the one to push him out of his seat. it feels kind of how you imagine bella felt when edward and her first meet, awkward and stiff. does he not like you? maybe that's why he was always staring, it wasn't in fantasy, but with disgust. not being one to dwell on whether someone likes you or not, you push through, introducing yourself with a raised out hand. stiles is quick to latch on, spewing out his full government name. then once he catches the confusion on your face, he tells you that you could call him stiles.

imagine going to lydias house party, that very night. running into all your newfound friends, dancing and drinking a little. then seeing your shy new lab partner chasing after his drunk friend. but also allison chasing after the drunk friend. whats his name again? shawn? smith? stiles? no- wait stiles is yours. scott! its scott. but by the time you have that revelation, the three are already outside. so you watch as allison gets into some random car and stiles stands are dumbfounded. scott has seemingly disappeared, and there's an unease building in your chest. who was that guy with allison? stiles, sensing someone behind him, turns around to face the one person he doesn't want to see at the moment. not because he doesn't like you, but because he is pretty sure his best friend is a freaking werewolf.

imagine asking him if he knew who allison got in the car with, and getting an unsavory response. great, your new friend might get murdered and tossed into the woods tonight. the alcohol is catching up to you rather quickly, and the worry is only increasing. stiles starts to make a move to his car, eager to see if scott went back home when you wrap a hand around his upper arm. it's not harsh or anything, so he doesn't flinch, but he is confused. you ask him if he will give you a ride to allisons, because you guys live close together and you want to make sure she gets home safe. stiles immediately says yes, but tells you he has to make a quick stop at scotts. something about possible alcohol poisoning or something, which makes your head spin. oh fuck, what if you have that?

imagine being told to wait in the car as stiles goes into scotts house. the boy is very persistent as you try to help him out. he offers to get you fries from the local drive-through if you just please stay in the car. that gets you to comply, so you're left staring out the window. it doesn't take long for stiles to come running out of the house and speeding down the street. you don't even have to ask because he tells you that allison went home with this guy derek who is very very evil. you never get those fries. but the good news is that allison is alive!

imagine stiles walking you to your door because you and allison really do live right next to each other. you guys don't say much, the adrenaline rush already crashing. you guys are about to part ways when you stop him and ask for his number. he seems like a nice guy and you joke about how you'll harass him until he gets you those fries. his heart does cartwheels as you exchange digits, and makes a mental note to kill scott. in a perfect world, you two would have managed to spend the whole night together, but scotts newfound supernatural abilities are already infiltrating stiles life.

imagine waking up the next morning with a pounding headache and a text from stiles telling you to get dressed cause he is coming over in fifteen minutes. it has you smiling like a child and it feels so goddamn good. maybe this kid will be cooler than you imagined. he pulls into your driveway and you open the door to see him with iced vanilla lattes and Mcdonald's french fries. this guy might just be an angel. you let him in and for the rest of the morning, you guys eat and talk about nothing while lounging around your room.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #x reader #reader insert #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #stiles x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski blurb

522 notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 11 months

Text

Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

Masterlist | Support Me!

A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

#ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x reader #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman imagine #sins fics

2K notes · View notes

wttcsms · 5 months

Text

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated.

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose.

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry.

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell.

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself.

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview.

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early.

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?”

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.)

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving.

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him?

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door.

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water.

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner.

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him.

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with.

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself.

“Look at me.”

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him.

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you.

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

#atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #drabble #imagine #alright if this doesn't make it to the tags im never posting again

795 notes · View notes

theemporium · 1 year

Text

“Baby?”

Silence.

“Babe?”

Silence.

“Luke?”

Silence.

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

You let out a small huff as you shifted once again, like you had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. Luke had tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that he was already asleep and that he didn’t notice the way you kept wiggling around. But it was hard to ignore it when you were practically shaking the whole bed every twenty seconds.

“Stop being rude,” you muttered as you turned your body so you were facing him. You tucked one arm under your pillow, the other picking at the duvet in the space between you both. “I can’t fall asleep.”

His brows furrowed together slightly, even if his eyes were still closed. “You good?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered honestly.

You didn’t know why you felt so off. Everything seemed fine. In fact, everything seemed perfect. This was the first year you were invited to join your boyfriend at the lakehouse. You had met Luke just before last summer had started, near the end of the hockey season at a coffee shop. It felt like a scene written out of a book or a romcom, with him rushing out as you were rushing in—only to collide and have iced coffees split over both of you.

It had been an awkward but wholesome meeting. Luke was fumbling over his words, his cheeks burning pink and his brain seeming unable to properly work with a pretty girl right in front of him. You found it endearing, especially when Jack had opened his window to yell at his brother to hurry up before they were late to morning skate.

Luke had blurted out, asking for your number and it had been a dream ever since.

You spent all of last summer texting and calling and getting to know each other. When he came back to Jersey, you met up at the same coffee shop for your first date, which only led to many, many more. And when summer rolled around again, Luke had asked for you to come with him and his friends to the lakehouse, and you had accepted.

The lakehouse was a dream. It was the perfect summer destination, his friends were amazing and his family were even better. You got along with his mother, you bonded with his father, you laughed with his brothers, you joked with his friends. It was perfect, and yet you were still unable to wave off the tightness in your chest that hadn’t left.

And now, lying in the dark room after a long day out on the lake, you should have fallen asleep the second your head hit the pillow like Luke was fighting to do right now. Instead, you were squirming and rolling around and trying to shake off the weirdest urge to cry.

“C’mere,” Luke murmured as he opened his arms, giving you a total of three seconds to react before he was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. “Talk to me.”

“M’sorry, you were about to sleep,” you muttered, your cheek pressed against his chest and it helped a little. “We can talk in the morning.”

“I don’t wanna sleep if you’re not okay,” Luke said with a frown on his face. He blinked his eyes open, the bleariness still there as he looked down at you. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You sighed, your arms winding around his torso as you settled on top of him. “Just feel…weird.”

“Weird?”

“Weird,” you repeated with a small shrug. “It’s probably nothing. I’m just getting in my own head.”

“Baby, don’t do that,” Luke grumbled, softly pinching your hip in retaliation as you squealed softly.

“This helps,” you reassured him. “Being with you helps.”

“It does?” He questioned, sounding adorably clueless and flattered, and it made your lips twitch.

“Yeah, it helps being close to you,” you said to him, settling happily as his arms tightened around you. “You make me feel safe.”

“Oh,” he murmured before he smiled a little. “You make me feel safe as well.”

“I’ll be fine, Luke,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss on his chest just where his heart was beating. “I’ll fall asleep now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

But you didn’t. Because despite feeling safer in Luke’s arms, it didn’t stop the thoughts whirling around in your brain. It eased the tightness in your chest, but not the chaos in your head. And despite thinking you weren’t being obvious, Luke could feel how tense and rigid you were in his arms. He knew you weren’t fine. He knew you were getting in your own head. And he wanted to help.

“Mmph,” you let out a surprised noise when Luke rolled over, the comforting weight of his body on top of you as he lifted his head up. “Luke—”

“Do you trust me?” He asked suddenly, cutting you off.

“Of course,” you breathed out before nodding. “Of course I do.”

“Just relax f’me then, okay?” He muttered out sleepily as his hands squeezed your hips before one hand started to slip beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“Luke–” You started again, but he swiftly quieted you with a kiss. It was embarrassing how quickly you melted into his embrace, feeling your stomach dip with excitement as his tongue worked its way into your mouth as his large palm cupped your cunt.

“Just need to get that brain of yours to calm down,” he murmured between slow, messy kisses as his thumb pressed against your clit in slow circles. “Need you to just lay there and look pretty, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut as his kisses slowly trailed down to your neck.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low voice, pushing your downs until they were abandoned somewhere by the foot of the bed. His fingers softly glided through your folds, humming in delight when he felt you already dripping for him. “That’s my girl.”

“Luke,” you whispered, so aware that the house was silent and that people were asleep, but so uncaring when your boyfriend slowly worked you open. “Please.”

“I know, babe, I know,” he murmured in a hushed voice. “Just gotta trust me, okay?”

“Mhmm,” you whined, a little breathy and high-pitched, and it made his cock twitch.

You felt like you were already spiralling with his fingers curled inside you, slowly thrusting in and out as he hit spots that your own fingers never seemed to reach. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer—and then he pulled out.

“No,” you cried out with a whimper, glossy eyes finding his in the dark as he chuckled softly. “Why—”

“Shhh, gonna fill you up, babe,” he assured you, silencing you once again with a kiss as his free hand worked his cock out of his boxers. “No need to cry about it.”

Your mouth fell open with a silent scream as he slowly pushed inside you, so big and deep and overwhelming that it was hard to focus on anything except the pleasurable burn of him stretching you out. Your nails dug into his skin, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him from moving away and it was hard to think about anything else other than himhimhimhimhim—

“There we go,” he groaned, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he laid on top of you. “Takin’ me so well, baby.”

“Luke,” you breathed out.

“Shhh, just gonna stay like this,” he told you in a whispered voice, his hands tracing up and down your sides. “Just gonna keep you full, okay? We’re gonna sleep like this tonight.”

Your eyes clenched shut as he thrusted a little deeper inside you. “But—”

“Nuh uh, just like this, pretty girl,” he murmured, kissing the pulse point on your neck. “Think you can do that f’me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, clinging onto him.

“Atta girl,” he hummed. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“You always do,” you retorted instantly.

“Exactly, baby. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

“Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

#cece's smutober #luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

2K notes · View notes

xxblairexxss · 1 year

Text

Duty

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x pregnant!reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

It reached 3.4k before I could even do the climax so I’m just gonna drop this one first or else I’m gonna rush the next part and ended up ruining everything.

Google result! Let’s hope this is accurate. I spent hours on website trying to find this. PROM is a shorten for premature rupture of membranes!

Requested!

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles was ecstatically happy to start the new season with the brightest hope because of how he ended the previous one as the second place in the World Driver Championship, even more elated when this was his first time starting the new season as a new father-to-be but it was undeniable that Charles had been struggling since the first race.

He seemed to be developed a new trait as well as upgraded some of his old ones ever since your pregnancy. Your first pregnancy. He had asked you to stop accompanying him to races which resulted to a fight, and you claimed that he didn’t need your support anymore. He eventually gave in but with conditions where you needed to stay by his side all the time or if he was occupied, he would force Joris to stay with you. When you got into your second trimester, he had again, asked you to to stop attending the races but you still wanted to, so he gave in again but only allowed you to attend the qualifying and race day so you started missing his practice day, which caused the media to question about your absence and Charles had to reassure everyone how you had been doing fine, but he had to be stricter on you to avoid any unwanted accidents. When you entered your third trimester, he didn’t allow you to attend any of the races at all and this time, he didn’t give in, no matter what.

Even so, he never allowed you to be left alone. You would either be at his parent’s house, your parents’ house, or he would bring either one to your house.

No matter how much you reassured him.

“Charles, can I just stay here?” Your voice trailed off, already feeling gloomy from what he was gonna say. You were sitting on the bed, looking at your husband going in and out of the room packing his stuffs before his flight in a few hours.

“What was it, baby?” He walked back into the room, placing one of his perfume into the small luggage bag and cocked his brow, waiting for you to repeat what he had missed.

“I don’t want to go to my parents house this weekend.”

He heaved a sigh of defeat and it made you regret for bringing up the topic. “You know I’m doing this for your safety, right? Honey, I won’t be here for a week, that’s long enough. What if something happened?”

“I know but I’m not due for another month.”

He took your hand in his, thumb softly grazing on your knuckles. “You are already 35 weeks. I can’t take the risk of leaving you alone. The doctor told us you need to be careful as they suspected PROM, no?”

“But–“ You jutted your bottom lips, looking away when your husband tilted his head away, eyes squeezing shut when you tried to argue even more.

“But what, honey? Go on, I’m listening.”

“Y/F/N wanted to come over with her little girls this weekend. I just wanted to do a little movie night and bake some cookies with them.” You felt Charles moved his shirts that you were folding in front of you away and skittered closer, seeing how you refused to look at him now.

“Can I see your pretty face?”

He beamed, feeling his heart caught the eternity’s mist as you looked up to him with teary eyes. “My crybaby.” He had realised since you entered your second trimester, your hormones seemed to be ramped up and you had been in a constant mood swings and crying spells, crying at almost everything. He had told his mom, worried about it as he wasn’t sure why. Even after he talked to you a lot about it and she said it was normal, but it sure took him a while to get used to it.

“Charles..” You hit on his arm and he chuckled.

“Alright, alright. Just this one time, okay? Make sure to pick up my call and let me know if it hurts anywhere.”

“I love you!” You exclaimed and threw your arms around his waist, head leaning against his chest.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Let me know if anything happens. Don’t make me regret my decision. Promise?”

“Promise!”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Few days passed, Charles got the podium for the second time in a row and you had been eagerly waiting for him to walk through the door. It was a shame you weren’t there to hug him as soon as he hopped off the fast car but he’d made sure you didn’t feel left alone as he called you right after, even mentioned you and his unborn daughter in his interviews.

“Congratulations! Two podiums in a row!” You threw you arms in the air and hopped, stopping when Charles held your waist.

“Careful, love.” He brushed his lips on your forehead, letting it linger against your skin. “I missed you, and you too, little one.” He bended down and stroked on your middle.

“I wanted to bake you muffins last night but I fell asleep because your child won’t stop kicking me.”

He placed his arm around waist, pulling you close as much as he could, another hand on the side of your belly. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. We can bake muffins together now that I’m home?”

“Are you tired?”

He pulled a funny expression and nodded impatiently. “I am worn out, baby. Total knocked out.”

“Can you buy me the matcha ice cream?”

“I bought you three tubs before I left, didn’t I?”

“I–“ You were going to tell him your excuse but ended up sucking your lips into a thin line, pulling away to pinch your husband on his arm. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m gonna cry!”

He winced and recoiled, hand leaving your belly to stroke on his waist where you just pinched. “Ow! What did I do?”

“You looked at me as if it was impossible for someone to finish three tubs of ice cream in one week! See? You are doing it again! I hate you.”

“What do you want me to do?” His mouth widen in disbelief and brought his palm up to cover his eyes. “Is this okay now?”

“Better.” You giggled and went back hugging his waist. You definitely missed hugging him without your belling getting in the way but it won’t be that long now. “Can you still get me the ice cream?”

“Of course, love. I’ll be right back.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles has been home for a week and day by day, you could see how he got progressively quite. He didn’t ignore you, didn’t raise his voice at you, he never did. He was still the husband that you wished every woman would have but he had been looking as if he was keeping a lot to himself.

“Charles?” You heard him hummed in response, his face is buried against your neck, his arm draped on your belly as you played with his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you ask?”

“I feel like you are worrying about something. Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?” He went silenced, his hand left your belly as he pulled away.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just scared? No– worried. No– I’m not sure. Probably both.”

You placed your under your round middle as you turned, scooted facing your husband who looked like he was in a deep dejection. “Was it because of this weekend?”

“Yeah. I just can’t afford to disappoint them again, love.”

“How do you know you were gonna disappoint them?” You placed your hand on his neck, thumb brushing against his stubble. “Hm?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like it? It’s not the first time, honey.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. It’s not even the race day yet but you are already assuming the worst. Give yourself a chance to prove yourself. I know my husband very well and I know he can ace everything thrown in his face.”

His lips turned into an upwards curve as he bended down to kiss your belly, hand patted on the side of it. “Mommy really knows how to cheer daddy up, doesn’t she? How I wish you could come too, baby.”

“We can come! Right, baby?” You replied, your hand strokes on the other side of your middle, voice filled with a hint of hope.

“No. I didn’t actually mean it, honey. It was hypothetical.” He straighten his body, and you saw the frown he always made whenever you told him you wanted to come to any races.

“But I really want to go..”

“You know what my answer will be, don’t you? I’m not gonna change it this time, Y/N.”

“This could be my last time attending your race before she comes. I don’t want to stay in the house. It’s getting boring and I have nothing to do.” You had been waiting for him to look at you as perhaps, there could be a tiny expectation where he would change his mind but he didn’t. “You’ll never understand.” You pulled your hand away, standing up to leave the living room.

“Baby,” He called out and of course, he got ignored. He knew it and wasn’t even expecting for you to reply. “Hear me out first. Y/N–“ You slammed the door and locked it before he could pushed it back. “Okay, locking the door is not it, honey.” He knocked and waited, but he didn’t hear anything. “Y/N, open the door.” Nothing. “Baby, please.” Still nothing. “Open the door or I’m gonna eat your ice cream. I’m serious.”

“You are mean.” He bit his lips, trying to hold his smile when you opened the door a second after, glaring at him with your arms folded.

“Oh? I’m the mean one when you just slammed the door and locked your husband out of the room? Baby, can you at least hear what I was gonna say?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. You don’t have to say it to my face.” You rolled your eyes and walked back to the bed.

“I thought you know how to read my mind. I was gonna ask you to be my date this Sunday but I think I got rejected.” He was going to stand up, pretending to be walking away but you gripped on his arm.

“Oh my god! Really? Can I really go to the race?”

“Last one before our little girl arrives.”

He gave in, yet again.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You had been feeling cramps ever since the weekend arrived. Your back had been hurting since your third trimester but it hurt even more these days, especially when you laid down. You could barely fall asleep even when you tried to sleep sitting against the headboard so you always woke up feeling all worn out which caused you to lose appetite. Even your head hurt due to the lack of sleep.

Charles had realised you were somewhat different but every time he asked you, you would just brush it off, saying that it was normal for pregnant women to feel like this nearly the end of the pregnancy. He realised you didn’t ask him to buy anything that you craved for which you used to every single day. You had been really quite. You only took a bite out of your meal only when he caught you but every time he asked if you were fine, you would always say yes, telling him to stop worrying. He had been contemplating if he could skip practice day, in any way possible but you got so mad at him for “being silly”.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were sitting in front of your dressing table, contemplating about which scent you should go with when your belly went tight, as if going through another cramp and it made you winced in pain. Your body slightly bended towards your middle.

“Honey? Are you done?”

“Y– yeah, I’m almost done.”

“Hey.” Charles peeked his head and strode to where you were sitting, crouching down so he could see your face. “I know I’ve been asking you this for like the million times but are you really fine? You are worrying me, love. You don’t have to come if you are not feeling well.”

“I am fine! I am just excited. I promise.”

His hand went to your round belly and softly rubbed on it. “I saw your face scrunched up earlier. Is she giving you a hard time?”

“She just has been kicking non stop. She’s probably too excited to see his daddy wins the race.” You placed your hand on his and cackled.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that, baby.”

“You can, honey! We’ll be rooting for you!”

“If that’s what my girls wished for then I guess I could make it comes true. P5 to P1 doesn’t sound hard, does it? We need to go. Are you all set?” He stood up straight and pinched on your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile from the compliments. “Liar. Can you help me up?” You stretched out your arms for him to pull you up.

“Ready? 1, 2, 3!” His body was slightly slanted to give you enough space when you stood up. “I’m not lying. My wife is so beautiful I almost mistook her as an angel.”

“Whatever.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

They were expecting rain to come since it had been raining during both practice and qualifying round but it felt like the sun was just a hand fist away from your head the moment you stepped out of the car. The media had to make it worse since this was your first appearance in the paddock in your last semester where you looked undeniably pregnant now. They had to block your way when you just wanted to sit down as fast as you can, even after Charles had rejected every request. His arm never left your waist. He even shook his head to people who asked to interview him regarding the race, telling them that he would come back after he sent you to the Ferrari’s hospitality.

“Here’s your drink. Oh, and I also got you some chocolates because it’s hot and you always needed something sweet. Some vitamins which I’m not sure if you ever need them but, you know, just in case. And– “

“Charles, I’m fine. Go and do your duty as a driver, honey.” You held his hand that was halted in the air as he was searching for something else he could give you.

“Are you sure? You were trembling earlier, Y/N.”

“It was just the sun. I’m fine now. See?” You cupped his cheeks and giggled when he shivered, feeling your cold hands against his skin. “Go! Don’t make them wait.”

“I’ll come back to you before I have to get into the car. Don’t be in the garage. Stay in here. It’s more comfortable, alright? I love you.” He leaned in to kiss you and pecked on your shirt covered belly. “And you too, little one. Please be nice on mommy.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were lying through your teeth but Charles didn’t catch any of it. He was probably too nervous for the race as he could usually read you like an open book. Your cramps had been going on recurrently, your belly is hard to touch and it felt heavier. The steps taken from your car to the paddock made you out of breath, your legs were shaking from having to walk through the cramps but your husband knew nothing about any of it. You felt like the weather and the tension from earlier might had something to do with it. You weren’t going to tell him because he had enough on his plate and though you knew he didn’t mind it at all, you didn’t want him to do anything hasty on the race day. He had told you multiple times how he could skip the practice and even the qualifying round if you just told him something was wrong and if he knew about what you had been feeling these past few days, he wouldn’t even be attending this race and you couldn’t afford that. He was a Ferrari driver before he was your husband. This should be his priority, not you. It’s Monaco, he had always been the centre in every Monaco GP, what would the fans say if he, the only Monegasque in the grid was missing on the important day.

You weren’t sure why you had been feeling this way. Your due date was 3 weeks away. That was surely long enough. You even googled if it was possible for women to get Braxton hicks in their 37 weeks into the pregnancy but most of the answers sent you to shiver that you refused to read in detail and tried to hold it off, until the race, at the very least.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles couldn’t see you before he got into the car. He had been pushing his schedule back when he chose to stay with you in the hospitality earlier so he had no more gap before he race. He was now in the grid walk, fireproofs suit on as he was putting on the balaclava, the white-coloured open mask while one of his race assistant, Xavi was holding his helmet. “Where’s Joris?”

“He’s there. Joris!”

Joris came running from the side of the grid and Charles turned to look at him. “Please keep an eye on Y/N for me. I have a feeling she’s not telling me something.”

“Got it. You don’t have to worry about her.”

“If, God forbid, something happened to her during the race, please let me know. At any time of the race.” He then took the helmet from Xavi and gripped on Joris’s shoulder as he was about to walk away. “Promise me, Joris. Let me know. No matter what position I am.”

“Nothing will happen to her, Charles. I’ll be by her side. Just focus on your race.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Ow..” You winced, steps came to a halt as you placed your hand on the wall to hold yourself. The cramp became more and more intense you could barely stand up any longer than 5 minutes. Even a walk to the bathroom took you long enough as you had to keep on stopping or your legs would just give away. “Not too hard, baby..”

“Y/N, you okay?” Joris came and your face instantly became more at ease to hide the pain.

“I’m fine, Joris. I just feel a little hot.” He offered you a hand and as soon as you pulled your hand from the wall, your whole body became wobbly and Joris immediately caught you in his arms.

“Woah, woah, slow down. Let’s walk you back to the lounge area, alright? Just lean on me.”

You felt a chill as you started sweating abnormally though you were in an air-conditioned area. Soon as you took a step forward, everything became a blur and you lost control of yourself, giving in completely.

“Y/N!” You felt Joris’s body against yours as you fell to the ground. Your eyes were heavy that it felt like it required a huge amount of energy to force it opened and you let yourself capiltulated to the darkness.

Joris immediately called for a medic and he was told that you needed to be taken to the emergency room right away, making him even more overwrought as it sounded more serious than he thought. “Can you wait until I informed her husband first?”

“Sir, we are suspecting internal emergency. We can’t wait. Leave us her emergency contact number and we’ll call them to direct to the hospital.”

Internal emergency. Joris could barely think straight and became more perturbed. One because Charles had given him the responsibility to look over you and he thought it was just his friend being overprotective. Second because you had been more like a family, like a little sister to him so he didn’t want anything bad happened to you. He had given Charles’s parent a call, telling Pascale to call your parents as well before he barged into the garage. He couldn’t cross the pit lane due to safety precaution but the group of people who had direct access to the drivers’ radio were all sitting across the pit lane. He ended up grabbing a random engineer to help him passed the words. “Tell them to inform Charles that his wife had been brought to the emergency room.”

He then saw the engineer walked and whispered to the person in charge and felt a little relief because now all he had to do is wait for Charles so he could go to the hospital.

But he didn’t know none of his words were being conveyed.

“Charles,”

Silenced.

“Guys, I’m listening.”

“No, nothing. Just wanted to inform that we are sticking to plan A.”

“Copy that.”

Joris waited, and waited. He was so anxious he couldn’t even stand still. He saw Charles on the final turn and thought to himself that he was gonna came into the pit lane any second,

but he didn’t. His car passed the starting line again as he carried onto the next lap.

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @aundercover @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

darylmydix · 21 days

Text

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 002

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: sorry if your name isn’t in the taglist and you asked to be. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you.

You lift your hand, blocking out the sun’s gleaming rays as you watch Daryl mutilate an opossum, removing the poor creature's insides. “Can’t you cook it or something?” You scrunch your face in pure disgust.

Daryl scoffs, eyeing you. “This ain't a damn five star restaurant, princess.” He says as he pops a piece into his mouth. “Well I am not eating that.” You shake your head. Daryl shrugs, making no complaints. “More for me.”

Eating dead animals was a cakewalk for someone like Daryl. He’s had to learn how to survive during times like this when his father would kick him out. At least he knew how to hunt and track thanks to the old man. The one good thing the bastard has done for his son.

You observe in silence while Daryl pigged out like he was enjoying a fine dine meal, even going as far as licking his fingers. “I don’t understand how you can eat raw animal guts. Aren’t you afraid of rabies?”

“It’s survival,” he states. “The world could go to shit one day where we ain’t got a choice but to eat crap like this. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The thought of that makes you sick to your stomach. You didn’t even wanna imagine a world where you’d have to tear apart defenseless animals to save yourself from hunger. It just wasn’t in your human nature to hurt anything innocent. “I don’t think I could do that no matter the circumstances.” You admit.

“Then you sure as shit better hope the world don’t ever come to an end. You’d be the first to get taken out.” He jokes, but there’s some seriousness to his words. Compared to Daryl’s hardass exterior, you were as soft as a plush toy.

Two different personalities; but that’s why your friendship seemed to work so well. Daryl needed something delicate in his life to take the brute in him down a peg, and you needed a brute to protect you from what you’re too delicate to protect yourself against.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers, well aware of your fragility.

“Best be lucky ya got me then.” He says, standing up, while wiping his bloody hands on his pants. You look up at him, a smile forming your face. Daryl avoids your gaze, which he often does when he says anything remotely soft or caring to you. It was just the brooding man in him wanting to hide any emotional connection, but you knew he cared about you. And he knew you knew.

“I am lucky I have you.” You say softly. His eyes finally lock with yours for a split second before he simply nods and changes the subject. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” He holds out his hand for you to take. You bite the inside of your cheek, rejecting the gesture. “I’m not in a rush to go back there.” You glowered.

“I know, but I ain’t tryin’ to get you into trouble again.” Daryl reminds you of the day that not only did you suffer consequences, but he did as well. Last time you avoided going home, you returned only to find cop cars outside of your house and your stepmother pretending to be oh so worried about you.

“Him!” She shouted, pointing to Daryl. “Arrest that inbred thug! He kidnapped my daughter!”

You tried to plead with the officers, telling them that wasn’t true but given the criminal history of the Dixon family it fell upon deaf ears and you had to sadly watch as your best friend was forced into a squad car. Fortunately he didn’t get into much trouble by the police, and was taken home.

His father was another story though.

You sigh, taking his hand and the brunette lifts you off the ground. “For the record, I’m only going because I don’t wanna get you in trouble again.” You inform him. Daryl scoffs. “Yeah whatever.”

“There it is. The house of horrors.” You mumble, staring ahead at the home that no longer brought you joy. “Need me to stick around a bit? Watch over the house?” Daryl suggests, and you look at him with a raised brow. “You’re gonna stakeout my house? What good would that do?” You ask.

“First prick I see walk up there’ll get his ass kicked, that’s what good it’ll do.” He spat. You could feel the anger radiating off of him; you shake your head. “You and Merle got it bad with assault,” Daryl glares at you in response. “If you just a walk up and kick whatever sick fuck comes to my door to get his jollies off then all my stepmom’ll do is call the police and have you arrested for stalking and battery.”

Daryl made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Pigs would be givin’ me a medal if they knew the fuck was goin’ on in there. What those assholes and that bitch was doin’.” He was passionate about your situation, and you appreciated it because you felt the same when it came to him and his own. “Hell am I supposed to do?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, which makes him tense slightly before he’s calm. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s just our reality. Go home, Daryl. Eat a meal better than opossum. For me, please.” You giggle a bit.

“You sure?” He asks.

“That I want you to eat a meal better than opossum? Pretty sure.”

The brunette scowls at your joke. “No. That you want me to go.”

You knew what he meant, but you often deflected questions like that because in the end what you wanted didn’t really matter. Stay or go, your position was all the same. “Yeah. Go home.” You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. “Hey,” Daryl calls out, and you look back at him. “I’ll wait out here for a bit.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one.”

You roll your eyes, turning away once again to walk home. You pull your keys from your sweater pockets as you get to the door, but it was suddenly ripped open with your stepmother standing there eyeing daggers at you. “The hell have you been? I almost had to call the law and report you missing again.”

“I’m an adult now, Sandra...”

“Like I give a damn. Get your dumbass in here.” She pointed inside with her thumb. You sigh, stepping into the house. Your stepmom pokes her head out, noticing Daryl standing there on the sidewalk. “What the hell are you doing by my house, you yokel?” She hissed.

“I was walkin’ her home, somebody’s gotta make sure she’s okay.” Daryl spat back. Your stepmother chuckled. “Well, aren't you quite the gentleman.” She snarked. “Well she’s here now, so why don’t you take your hillbilly ass back to the trailer park where you belong and get the hell away from my property before I call the cops.” She slams the door, getting the last word.

You peer at Daryl through the living room window, mouthing for him to ‘just go’. You could see him struggling within himself with the decision before he heads off. Your stepmother shuts the curtains, glaring at you. “Don’t you ever bring that redneck here again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears. “What do you have against him? He is the only thing in this world that I have that cares about me.”

She laughed mockingly. “You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about. The only thing you’re good for, honey, is making me money to keep this damn roof over our head. And if that little bastard isn’t helping support that, then he has no business here. Next time I see him I’ll get a restraining order and make sure he’ll never step foot here again, do you understand?”

You don’t respond, tears now falling down your face. She roughly grabs your arm, digging her nails into your skin. You yelp in pain. “Do you understand?!” She repeats. “Yes!” You cry out. She lets go of you, throwing your arm from her grasp. “Now go shower. We’ve got a guest coming later tonight.”

You quickly rush to your bedroom, slamming the room door shut. You pace around your room, wiping tears from your eyes. You were full of different emotions. Anger, sadness, sorrow, hate, agony. You wanted to just give up on this life. You had no willingness to live.

You open your drawer, digging through your clothes until you find the razor you keep in your drawer. You eye the tiny blade, twisting it around in your finger. ‘It could just end here’. You thought.

But then the sudden flash of Daryl came into your mind.

Like it always does.

You threw the razor atop of your dresser, the unwillingness fading away. “Daryl Dixon the things I do for you.” You mutter to yourself.

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie

238 notes · View notes