#I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you all

[pucksandpower]

Used to be Mine

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you

Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”

Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.

“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”

Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”

The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.

Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.

“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.

The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.

All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.

He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.

His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.

“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.

“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.

Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”

There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.

Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.

“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.

You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.

“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.

“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”

“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”

You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”

Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.

“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”

Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”

“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.

Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”

He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.

You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”

Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.

“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.

Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.

“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”

You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.

“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”

The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.

Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.

The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.

***

Six Months Later

The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:

1. C. LECLERC

2. O. PIASTRI

A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.

“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.

Arthur’s gut twists.

Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”

A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”

“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”

You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”

Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.

“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”

Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”

“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”

“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.

But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.

“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”

“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”

Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”

The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.

You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.

“Arthur! There you are!”

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.

“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.

He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.

You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”

Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.

“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”

“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”

Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.

Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.

He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.

He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.

“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.

He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.

And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.

Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.

Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?

He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”

It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.

There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”

Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.

But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.

“Yeah, okay.”

The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.

“Hey … you okay?”

Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.

“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”

Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”

Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”

“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”

“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”

“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”

Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”

“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”

“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.

He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”

Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”

As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.

But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.

Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.

***

Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.

You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.

Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.

Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.

“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.

Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”

He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”

“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.

You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”

And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.

Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.

He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.

Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?

Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.

He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.

But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.

Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?

Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.

Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.

Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.

At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.

What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?

It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.

Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.

Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.

White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?

Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-

“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”

Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”

“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”

Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.

But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.

Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.

When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.

“Oscar. And Y/N.”

That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.

“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.

Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.

For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.

He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.

Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.

Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”

“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”

He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.

They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.

“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.

Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.

You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.

“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.

“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”

Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.

“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?

“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”

Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”

He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.

“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”

“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.

“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”

“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”

“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”

He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.

“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”

Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”

“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”

Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”

Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.

As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.

Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.

Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.

It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.

If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.

It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.

His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #arthur leclerc #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #arthur leclerc imagine #oscar piastri x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri x y/n #mclaren #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc

[luveline]

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home 

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 

What kind of dinner my love  

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 

What’s wrong??? 

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You don’t have to rush over.” 

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 

“You’re always good company, you loon.” 

“You what?” 

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Spencer!” you laugh. 

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 

“It’s in my back.” 

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[pbueckerslover]

hi baby i love your paige stories so much! can you please do reader comforting paige after a hard loss or practice?? tysm 💓💓

no matter what - p.b. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

{thank u sm lovely!! love this idea i hope you enjoy 🤍}

pairing(s): paige bueckers x female!reader

warnings: pure fluff <3

summary: paige has had a long week at practice and all she wants to do is be with her girl.

it had been a long week. paige was working hard every single day at practice getting ready for her teams upcoming game. although she loves what she does so much, it can start to become very stressful after awhile.

after a week long of practicing and working non stop, she just didn’t know if she could take it anymore. all she wanted to do was go home and be with her girl.

it was now friday and practice had just come to an end. paige made her way to the locker room and started packing up her things as fast as she could. once she was done she made her way to her car and drove to you guys’ place.

she got out of the car and started walking inside. when she walked in the door she was met with her girlfriend laying on the couch watching tv. when you heard the door open you immediately turned around and jumped up out of your spot.

you ran over to her before she could even set her stuff down and gave her the biggest hug. when she hugged you back the tightest you’ve ever felt you could tell she really needed that. you pulled away to look at her, “hi baby i missed you.”

she smiled at your words. “missed you more.” she said as she placed a soft kiss to your lips. you guys pulled away from each other so paige could walk inside.

“gonna take a quick shower then i’ll join you okay?” she said as you were making your way to the room. “okay, see you soon.” you reply. while she’s in the shower you decide to change into something more comfortable. you then climb into bed and turn something on the tv while you wait for your girlfriend.

about a half hour later paige walks into the room and she smiles at you as you’re watching the tv. she climbs into bed next to you and you turn to her. “hi my pretty girl, how was your day.” paige seems to blush a little at your comment before replying, “it was okay kinda stressful.” she says.

“oh i’m sorry is everything okay?” you ask her with a worried look on your face. “just been getting ready for the iowa game, it’s been a lot i’m just scared what if i mess up or something and it just ruins everything we’ve been working for?” she confesses to you looking like she’s about to cry.

you move closer to her and place a hand to her cheek, “oh baby don’t say that you’re gonna do amazing! even if you guys lose it’s gonna be okay paige you’ve done so good this season and something like that would not be your fault.” you say looking into her eyes.

she looks at you and smiles, “thanks babe i just worry like that sometimes it’s really hard not to.” she says. “i know P, i understand i just want you to know that i’m so fucking proud of you and i will always will be no matter what.” you reply placing a kiss to her cheek.

“i love you so much.” she says smiling like an idiot at what you just said. “i love you more, baby. let’s get some rest now yeah?” you say and she nods her head.

you lay down and paige does the same. you pull her in close to you and wrap your legs around her torso. she buries her head into your neck and starts to leave little kisses there. you giggle at her actions and push her away playfully. she leans up to look at you and gives you a big kiss on the lips before returning to her original spot.

“goodnight y/n.” she whispers before she closes her eyes.

“goodnight baby.” you reply and place one last kiss to her forehead.

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed!

⇾ ty guys for being so patient! i’ve been trying to work on a couple diff things i’ve just been super busy but i will try my hardest to get a couple more things out this week! love you angels 🧸🌿

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers imagine #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #pbueckerslover #wlw #lgbtq

[sixosix]

HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM | LYNEY

notes wc 2.5k, a LOT of talking. but i hope you can enjoy:)) because im so nervous to post this

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

“So that’s your decision. Alright.”

…That’s it?

The confusion on your face must have shown. Arlecchino casts a glance and smiles in her own way, only a ghost of it.

The ease of her answer feels like walls cracking, chipping slowly one by one, then collapsing altogether. It’s such a surreal, nearly maddening feeling. The glaring reminder that it has always been your choice dawns on you. So that’s it.

“I don’t want to chain you to the throne.” How embarrassing it is to realize that you were the one chaining yourself in, locking it in place, and suffering from the weight of it this entire time.

‘Father’ accepts it; it’s about time you did, too.

“Alright,” you echo numbly, lagging from disbelief.

As it turns out, the teacup in Rosalie’s hands had been the poison ‘Father’ was offering. She wanted to show Rosalie what it looked like, but Rosalie’s answer was pretty clear when she flung it away the moment you entered the room.

‘Father’ offers the cup meant for you, and you inspect it nervously. The glass feels fragile and smooth to the touch. The fate of your future, your memories, the people you’ve met that have led you all the way here, your entire being—

All in one cup.

You already gave your answer. It took a good minute, but still, it was the quickest choice you’ve made yet. The ‘tea’ seemed tempting for a split second: an easy way out, a free restart button. You know better now, though. Arlecchino’s showing you mercy, and Rosalie’s giving you a choice.

You look up at Arlecchino, uncertainty in your nerves. “But I can’t go back here?”

Arlecchino tilts her head. “You mean to return here as a child of the House?” She chuckles shortly. “Of course not.”

Oh. Ah, well. That is to be expected.

“Why would you be? You’re not an orphan anymore, are you not?” Arlecchino’s gaze swings pointedly at Rosalie’s direction, who is talking animatedly to Freminet. Freminet blushes as Rosalie coos and frets over him like she does to you.

You find yourself smiling fondly, then promptly realize that this is what Arlecchino means. You have a new home now, with Rosalie.

“So I guess this is really my goodbye to the House?” you mutter, feeling limp suddenly.

Arlecchino gently places her clawed hand on your head. You stiffen for a tense moment but eventually relax into it, realizing that this could be the last time she would even see you as her child, even when you weren’t a long time ago.

“It’s been your goodbye when you left,” she reminds you coolly.

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“But I’m sure the children still see you as family, and you would be our most important guest of all,” Arlecchino says, looking ahead. “Don’t underestimate their love for you, even if you’ve already forgotten them.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget my first home even if I tried,” you laugh, a little bittersweet thing.

“Then still feel welcomed here, on behalf of their feelings.”

Her voice isn’t gentle, nor does she assume to be part of the House that would want you back—she still wears that cold detachment in her words, but you know her. You know this is the closest she can give you. You want to hug her, pull her in, and bury your face in like a child, but again, you know her. Arlecchino doesn’t like things like that—so you’ll settle for sniffling and pretending like you aren’t crying.

“Thank you for everything, ‘Father’,” you whisper, voice quivering.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but her gaze is more open. It’s enough of an answer for you.

“Come,” Arlecchino calls out, her voice ringing clearly and making everyone halt to listen. “Let us meet up with Tartaglia; it’s about time he arrived.”

The warmth of her hand slips off as she walks out. You would’ve chased after it, but Rosalie comes dashing over and squishing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. Freminet spares you a secretive smile before he runs after Arlecchino and your vision is swallowed by Rosalie’s worried face.

“Ma chérie,” she coos. “You’re really sure about your decision? I promise I won’t get mad if you stay with Miss Arlecchino!”

“Maman, you’re my home now,” you say. “I’m already grateful that you still choose to keep me. I know it’ll be difficult to adjust—”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie releases your cheek, only to pinch one gently. Her face is stern, daring you to finish. “I’ve raised you as my own long enough; what’s years more? But this time, you share with me, okay? Whatever danger lies ahead of you, I want to be a part of.”

The waterworks continue. “O-Okay.”

You’re positively drained, tired, and fatigued when the long hand strikes 10 in the evening. You yawn, then lay flat on the grass, the blades of green tickling, but that’s the least of your worries. Paimon flutters around unsurely before eventually settling on Aether’s side. Aether smiles stiffly, all tense and awkward, as he pats your arm in comfort but doesn’t even touch you.

You eye his gloved hand. “Do you think I’m going to bite you or something?”

“I— I don’t know!” Aether says, sounding genuinely distressed.

“I already apologized.”

Aether grimaces. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel like I deserve it. If anything, I should be begging for forgiveness for even blackmailing you.”

You shrug. “You can’t blackmail me anymore. Maman already knows.”

“Still…”

“Aether,” you give him a helpless smile that has him blinking dumbly in awe. “I’m the one who gained everything here. I couldn’t even give you anything even when I was supposed to help you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aether murmurs in embarrassment. “You led me to The Knave. We have a meeting tomorrow about my sister—fingers crossed she knows something.”

“I hope the best for you,” you say lightheartedly.

Aether smiles weakly, a little unsettled by this sudden act of kindness. “So what’s your plan from now on?”

“In the eyes of the public, The Knave transferred me out of her care and assigned me to Master Childe. In reality, I don’t have to leave anything behind by staying with the Fatui. Master Childe will be training me personally, and I can be of aid to the House whenever they need it—I just wouldn’t be one of the orphans anymore.”

Aether hums thoughtfully. “So you’re going to leave Fontaine?”

“Only for a bit. I’m taking maman with me, but I would still get homesick, so I’d convince Master Childe to drop by now and then.”

Aether laughs softly. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other occasionally.”

You stare at him momentarily, wondering what would’ve happened to you if you never met him. “If anything, I should thank you, Aether. Your friendship with Master Childe made me an easy ally for him. I don’t know where I would’ve gone if it weren’t for him volunteering.”

Aether waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Childe’s excited to spar with you. I really did nothing.”

You hug him.

Aether is frozen for about two minutes before Paimon nudges him, and he reboots back into life by throwing his arms around you and squeezing you into a hug. It holds the same warmth as Arlecchino’s sweet gesture, so you stay like that for a little while. You gesture for Paimon to join in, and she beams and envelops your heads with her tiny arms.

At least until Aether drops his arms and suddenly looks anxious. “Okay, we should stop before Lyney hears about this again.”

Your heart jumps out of your throat at the mention of that name.

Right… You need to talk to him next.

Aether seems to know what’s going on in your head and grins. “Good luck.”

It’s the next day. You haven’t heard of Lyney nor Lynette since Rosalie’s kidnapping, and you realize belatedly that they’re giving you space. Or perhaps just straight-up avoiding you. You don’t know which is easier.

With the help of Aether, you stand face to face with the house they moved into once they were adults. It’s small and blended in with all the rest, but the cat blinking up at you slowly in a hat was surely a rarity.

“Hello, kitty,” you say.

The cat responds with a slow, measured blink.

It’s the cat from the party Lyney invited you, but that has led to a series of unfortunate, humiliating events that you’d rather forget, so to you, the cat has done nothing.

“May I come in?” you ask politely as if expecting a proper, eloquent response.

The cat meows and then starts scratching on their door. The worn marks on the bottom of the door imply that this isn't the cat's first time either. One, two, three— Then you’re faced with Lynette, who has that expression on her face that seems to say she had been expecting you, but you were a little late.

“Y/N,” she says as the cat saunters inside.

“Hey, Lynette,” you say, playing with your fingers. “Sorry about… lashing out yesterday.”

Lynette tilts her head. “I was never upset about that. I was simply worried about you—you’re family to me, too.”

Your chest aches. “Lynette…”

She steps aside, gesturing vaguely. “Come inside. Lyney is probably fixing himself up in his room; we’ll give him three minutes.”

“He has a show?”

“No. He’s meeting you,” Lynette says, then doesn’t clarify. She walks in calm strides toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Um, yes, please.”

Their home looks well-worn in a loved way, with trinkets sprinkled everywhere. There are different models of Lyney’s hats displayed on a shelf, which you find endearing. You ask Lynette about the cat, which she tells you goes by the name Rosseland, an assistant to their shows and their beloved pet, and the cause for the mountain of hats in their home.

It’s a little terrifying how easily she indulges you in conversation, just as with Arlecchino. She resembles ‘Father’ in that way. You feel like you aren’t deserving of their mercy. Lynette should be angry at you; you hurt them by being selfish. Instead, Lynette pours you tea and smiles.

“You seem uneasy,” Lynette observes, sipping.

“Well, I think you know the reason why.”

Lynette shakes her head. “There’s no reason to be. If you think I forgave easily, Lyney has forgiven you long ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Lynette smiles. “I think it’s special. We’re twins, Lyney and I, but I think if I were in his body for even a day, I wouldn’t be able to recreate what you two have. He treasures you deeply, more than you know.”

Speechless, your mouth hangs open. “That’s…”

A door bursts open, and a disheveled Lyney emerges, looking around in confusion until his gaze finally settles on you. He breathes out. You straighten up under the full intensity of his undivided attention, just like it had always been.

“Seven minutes,” Lynette says impatiently.

Lyney flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Lynette sighs, then turns to you. “Go on. Go to him.”

What! Why do you have to be the one to move? You want to voice your complaints, but Lyney is already moving aside to give you space through his doorway.

You cast a fearful look at Lynette, but she avoids your gaze as if expecting it. Betrayed, you shuffle through the living room and brush past Lyney, into his room. It’s messier than the rest of their house, with makeup, clothes, and props. But you find it endearing—it’s Lyney’s room and reflects him.

“Sorry,” Lyney says. Before you could interrupt, he clarifies: “I couldn’t clean this all up properly before you came over.”

But you had time to fix yourself up? You want to ask in amusement, but you settle for shaking your head instead. You’ve visited to apologize, not bully him more.

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For the way I treated you yesterday—no, the entire time we were together, I mean.”

Lynney coughs, turning redder. “I know you are. And you know that I forgive you.”

Just like Lynette had said. “You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my feelings, you know.”

At the mention of feelings, you suddenly recall a few words he said in the heat of the moment and suddenly find yourself flustered, squirming on the bed. As if hearing what you’re thinking, Lyney flinches and stumbles back, his face layers and layers of red.

“I still mean it, though,” Lyney stammers out.

“Mean what?”

“My… confession,” he trails off lamely, blushing like a maiden.

You blink in surprise. “I thought you were just saying that to make me stay?”

At the moment in the flower shop, you had a feeling you knew what he was going to say as if you were reading it from a book, and the sequence would go as follows: Your heart was not the first for Lyney to steal. But there was Rosalie, there was ‘Father’, there was the throne, and believing that Lyney was just using whatever he could to get what he wanted again seemed better.

“What?” Lyney’s face falls, horrified. “No, no, of course not! You asked me why I would go to… lengths for you, and I answered honestly.”

“Oh.”

Lyney frowns. “Y/N, I knew I couldn’t make you stay, but I still wanted to say it.”

You find yourself struggling to keep contact with his eyes all of a sudden. “So you meant it? You actually really like me?”

“Yes,” Lyney says, so painfully sure of himself that your face bursts into flames.

You can’t handle the sight of his eagerness laid bare just for you—vulnerable, open, and unapologetically honest. 

“I’m not easy to love, you know.”

“A little bit late for the warning.” Lyney smiles sadly. “I love you anyway.”

“Even when I’m like this?”

Lyney tilts his head. “This is just one of the many reasons I’m helplessly devoted to you. There’s really no use in trying to push me away, you know. We’ll find each other again eventually— Are you crying?”

Lyney stutters and frets over you like Rosalie does when you’ve iced yourself to her plants. It’s a little funny, so you give him a pathetic, wet laugh.

“W-Was it something I said? Was it too soon? I’m sorry. Pretend you didn’t hear anything. Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” Lyney groans, burying his face in his hands and continuing his self-criticism.

“Shut up for a bit, Lyney.”

He shuts up right away.

You draw closer to him, wiping your tears away. His breathing halts and his eyes have been swallowed up, pupils dilated. You pause until you can feel his breath on your face, looking up at him for permission. Lyney nods but seems confused, so you just show him.

‘Father’, Aether, and Rosalie have their own kind of warmth, but kissing Lyney is entirely different. It feels as if he’s burning you from within, from your cheeks down to your toes, in a pleasant shiver.

notes last chapter next:( I AM KIND OF SAD ACTUALLY

taglist moved to comments because Tumblris strange

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

[teaboot]

Hi

I have a question for u

It is maybe a very cliché question but I am sincerely looking for the answer because it feels like most other people know it and just I don’t understand

So here we go: what differentiates love from friendship?

I can recognize friendship. All explanations given to me what others told me makes the distinction to loving someone (romantically?) didn’t make sense to me mostly because it always included some people that fall into the definition of friends

So yeah.. I’m having difficulty with relationships (apparently)

Thank u for ur thought! Ur blog always brings me happiness!

I hope u have a wonderful day with some quiet time to watch the fluffy creature

-🥬

Personal opinion?

Friendship is love. Love is friendship. Kissing is friendship and holding hands is love. Sex is friendship and washing laundry is love.

I've had crushes on people I'd never want to date. I have friends I'd be comfortable kissing. I don't think I've ever been attracted to sexually, but there are people I think are beautiful who make my heart race. I don't know if I've ever felt romantic attraction, but there are people I want to spend my life with, and others I'd rather admire from a distance, and others I want nothing to do with.

I think that honestly, really, words like "Husband", "Wife", "Partner", "Friend", "Queerplatonic", "Soulmates", "Life Partner"... I think they're useful tools to describe specific experiences, more than they are rigid boxes to sort and divide our experiences into.

I'm not sure if I understand tge difference between platonic affection, aesthetic attraction, romance, and friendship, but I find my best relationships so far have been, "We like being around each other, and we work together to find what kind of intimacy we want from each other".

Sometimes that intimacy is physical, like kissing or sparring. Sometimes it's emotional, like sharing feelings. Sometimes it's just good, quiet company, or doing things together.

I can't speak for your own experiences, but in mine, idk. Just kinda letting things happen.

(It is hard when you feel lonely, though, and don't know how to describe to most of the world what it is you want.)

Long post, but uh. Same boat, I suppose?

afraid I don't have a better answer right now, but if anyone else figures it out, I'd love to know.

Thanks for the ask, and I hope you're having a great day too!! ♡

[stinmybubs]

“Rot my brain.”

Roommate B. Katsuki in love with a girl whose addicted to video games.

B. Katsuki x AFAB! Reader

Bakugou never understood why you were so glued to your PC or any console you could get your little hands on. Sitting there for hours and hours playing brain rotting video games.

It pissed him the fuck off.

You barley left your room other to use the bathroom, shower, eat, and clean out your room. He was a bit glad you were a clean type of gamer instead of a stinky messy one.

Random packages you’d order always piling up at the door, he almost tripped over them when he had to leave for work. How the fuck were you able to afford so much shit without a job?

He would make dinner in hopes you would eat with him, but of course you always ate ramen or some sort of frozen meal before he even got home.

He felt as if he was living alone with some girl coming and going at random times, he barley saw you. Which he should be thankful for, but he was head over heels for you, why? He doesn’t even know.

Maybe it was the time you helped him back in the apartment when he was drunk, letting him rant to you on your shared couch before you slipped away to your cave.

Or the time he accidentally walked in on you cosplaying a character in a skimpy outfit, taking pictures of yourself in lewd positions before you screamed at him to get out of your room.

Or maybe it was the little conversations you two would have at the most unexpected times. The conversations that made it seem you two knew each other for a life time.

He had to find out what the hype was about, so he barged into your room while you were playing a very competitive game. Clearly you didn’t notice his hand placed on the back of your chair as he hovered over you.

He didn’t know what game you were playing, it was a first person shooter so it could honestly be any game in the world.

“One flank.” You speaking spooked him a bit, he hasn’t seen you so focused on something ever.

Soon the game ended, with him sitting there next to you the whole time. You took of your headphones, letting them slide down your neck while you leaned back in your chair with a long sigh. “I’m loosing my mind…” turning to grab your water you jump in fear at the man sitting next to you.

“HOLY SHIT BAKUGOU!” You scream, leaning so back your chair almost falls backwards but Katsuki was quick enough to catch you.

“What the fuck are you doing in here!? When did you even get in??”

“I jst’ wanted to see what the hype was all about. You’re always in your room playin this shit.”

“Oh…uh, I don’t know why I’m so into this game, it makes me so fucking mad I hate it so much.”

“Then why do ya’ keep playin it.”

“Cuz it’s fun.”

Katsuki just looked at you like you said the most dumbest shit he’s ever heard. Which made you burst into laughter.

“Here I’ll teach you how to play! And maybe you could be my duo!” You cheered letting him take your spot in your chair.

After that day Katsuki played with you whenever had had free time, forcing you to eat dinner with him outside your room and stop eating all that processed shit you always ate.

This way you two got closer, he of course didn’t play all the time since he didn’t want his brain to rot and he had a full time job. So he stopped to watch you in your room, hanging out on your bed watching you closely. Probably making fun of your plays too.

You ended up opening up to katsuki, getting out of your room more whenever he got home, you at the door greeting him was always the best part of his day. He loved having movie night with you, he never shows it but he was just so happy to be closer to you.

Sooner or later, you two were more than just roommates.

AN: school is kicking my butt cuz of graduation. I am trying to finish all my 100 follower specials!

(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

#mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha writing #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugo katuski #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou

[bubblergoespop]

My Top David Quotes

i need this man to hold me while i cry

“Oops.”

“If I gave Milo less than a full month to plan out his outfit, I’m sure he’d kick my ass. If he could reach it.”

“This is omega shit, I’m not built for this.”

“Oh god they’re gonna pet me, oh fuck I didn’t think about that. I’m not some house dog I don’t need— [melts at angel petting him]”

“Is my Angel mad at me?”

“Call me that one more time and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“If I’m not good enough then go find someone who is, see if I care. No. You know what, no fuck that. I do care. I love you.”

“What? He doesn’t even drink tea, he drinks coffee what are you talking about?”

“Your words carry weight with me, no matter how much or how little you talk.”

“I will not participate in your little gossip session. I am the pack alpha, I have to be above that kind of shit… but yes Amanda and Christian are definitely fucking and yes it is definitely going to get very awkward.”

“No I won’t be able to talk, I become a fucking wolf. I can only make wolf noises..”

“I know I can be rough and nasty. […] But I just need you to know that, no matter what, I have never regretted being with you for a second. I’m proud to call you my mate.”

“He would have loved you, you know. You would have made him laugh.”

“Alpha privileges.”

“You make him happier than I’ve ever seen him before. And he deserves that. So thank you. For taking care of him. [Asher singing in background] Is he…? Oh god, never mind. He doesn’t deserve anything.”

“That phrase is perfectly common, shut up. But… keep talking. Because I like your voice, you snot, and I missed hearing it.”

“You cannot tell when I need something… who am I fucking kidding? Yes you can.”

“I want to fuck you into this bed so hard that the frame breaks underneath us, and then fuck you into the floor even harder.”

“I love my pack but there isn’t a half decent cook in the entire group. [if you listen very closely you can hear Milo’s feral growling in the background]”

“No, I don’t like it when you hold me. Or when you nuzzle my neck. [proceeds to whimper]”

“Those sounds are for me.”

“There’s not much in this world I’d get on my knees for. But for you—always.”

“Where's the troublemaker? Out looking for a bear to fight one on one or something?”

“You’re one of my best friends, Milo. You’re family. And I’m very grateful for you.”

“You hold my heart in your hands, Angel.”

“God, you’re as bad as Ash. Sorry, don’t let me rob you of credit. You’re much worse. I love you too.”

“After all, who am I to say no to my Angel?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Sappy. Yes you are. You’re my sappy, sentimental thief.”

“[scoff] You missed.”

“When I’m with you, I’m not an Alpha. I’m not a friend, I’m not a competitor, I’m… I’m David. And I thought I’d lost him a long time ago.”

“Tell me you didn’t just call that Pokemon ‘Daddy’.”

“Drive safe.”

“I want it to be whatever you want it to be.”

“Breathe. Relax into it. I’ve got you. It’s almost all the way in..”

“Tearing through clothes is fucking hot.”

“And to think, some people believe you’re nice. I like bite. And history says you do too.”

“It was worth every sleepless night. You are worth everything, angel.”

“I’m yours.”

“You’ve always had a way of being a ray of sunshine in my life, whatever the source of the darkness might be, whether that’s stuff from the outside, or stuff from inside of me.”

“Only if you do…”

“I don’t know if I should kill them or marry them.” (he chose marry them)

“You shouldn't be facing this alone. You're family. You're one of us. We love you.”

“We’ve got five minutes before the food gets here, we’ve done more with less.”

#i’m sorry this has taken way too long #redacted david #bubbler’s top quotes #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted angel

[mayu-otome]

Drink, Get Drunk, And Drown - Alfons Sylvatica

These translations are solely for entertainment and not profit. Accuracy is not 100% guaranteed. MDNI

(quick note that English and Japanese are not my native language and there might be some errors and mistakes in my grammar and wording in the translation)

On the way back from accompanying a mission to a warehouse suspected of selling drugs.

Roger: You have some nerve to use a person as a human shield.

Alfons: I'm putting to good use, those muscles you're so proud of. shouldn't you be grateful towards me instead?

The two started fighting.

(It all started when Alfons used Roger as a shield against a gun-wielding man...)

Alfons: Can you not come any closer? Joining shoulders with a filthy man like you is giving me the chills.

Roger: Young lady, say something too.

Kate: .… I agree with Roger on this one!

Alfons: How cruel! You're disregarding your lover and agreeing with that man's opinion!

Kate: You shouldn’t use people as shields in the first place!

Alfons knocks Roger arm off and wraps his arm around my waist.

Alfons: Then we'll be around here. Let's go, Kate.

Roger: Hey, you're not planning on running away, are you?

Roger: I risked my life to protect you. I guess it makes sense to treat me to a glass of alcohol

Alfons: Huh? Why do I have to treat you?

Roger: Generally you—

(If things continue like this, we won't get anywhere. When it comes to this...!)

Kate: I’ll treat you!

Alfons & Roger: …..Huh?

…

Alfons had a disgusted look on his face as Roger gulped down his beer.

Alfons: You've finished drinking. Please go home.

Roger: Of course I’m still going to drink

Alfons: You're always drinking the same thing. seriously, you're no fun at all.

Roger: What’s wrong with drinking what you like?

Kate: Alfons, you seem to know a lot about Roger.

Alfons: This is a well-known fact that everyone in Crown knows, but it’s not even worth remembering.

Roger: I've known Al for a long time.

Alfons: I'm very dissatisfied.

Roger: I think of you as a friend.

Roger: Kate, if something ever happens with this guy, I'll be your listening ear however much you need.

Alfons: In your case, it’s probably not enough to just listen.

Roger: I mean, the little lady’s face is quite my type.

Kate: Eh….!

Alfons: What are you embarrassed about? Don’t tell me….. You’re planning to cheat on me in public?

Kate: T-this is because of the alcohol!

Alfons: Heh….. I’ll leave it at that.

Suddenly, a joyful voice rises from the seat in the back.

When I looked over, I saw two men lying face down on a table with many glasses on it.

Alfons: Most likely they were having a showdown to see who could drink more.

Roger chuckled upon hearing those words

Roger chuckled upon hearing those words, seemingly having thought of an idea.

Roger: Let's do it too, Al.

Alfons: No thanks, Please do it alone.

Roger: You're not in the mood, then—

Roger: How about betting on the young lady?

Kate: Me?!

Alfons: What ridiculous thing did you just say?

Roger: If I win, I'll spend the night drinking with the young lady. If you win, I'll pay for the drinks and get out of here.

Alfons: I don't want to have anything to do with you

Roger: Are you afraid of losing to me?

Alfons: —Huh?

Alfons: ... I get it. Let's do it.

Kate: You're really going to!?

Alfons: It's okay. I won't lose to this idiot.

Leaving me surprised at this unexpected turn of events, the two of them took a quick sip from their glasses.

Alfons: You can still drink... please just hurry up and pass out.

Roger: You're not already at your limit?

Alfons: Please don't take your jokes too far.

(Roger is strong. Alfons is a stronger drinker too.)

(Still…..)

His hair is disheveled behind his ears, his reddish cheeks and unusually loose lips doubling his sex appeal.

(As expected, this might be violating the rules.)

As I’m exposed to the sex appeal of my drunken lover, our eyes meet.

Alfons: ....What kind of face are you making?

Kate: eh?

Alfons: I'm leaving

Alfons stood up and grabbed my arm, forcing me to stand.

Kate: We're still in the middle of a showdown…

Alfons slammed the money down on the table and glared at Roger.

Alfons: Were you satisfied?

Roger: I'm satisfied because I found out that you're more excited than I imagined. Kate, next time let's have a drink when Al isn't around.

Alfons: ...It seems you really want to be killed.

Roger: Haha! If you try to kill me, I'll shoot you back.

Alfons: …. I’m leaving

(This is the first time I've seen you so drunk...)

His gait was shaky and unsteady….

(Besides, he’s usually talk a lot, but…. he’s been quiet the whole time.)

(They say that alcohol reflects a person's true feelings, but I'm surprised that Alfons is so quiet.)

…

Kate: Kyaa!

The moment I entered the room, I was pushed onto the bed.

He got between my legs and hung over me so that I couldn't move, before stealing my lips.

Kate: ….Nn, Al

Alfons: ….You looked incredibly naughty just a little while ago

His tongue slipped into my mouth.

Alfons: You got excited seeing me drunk? What a pervert.

Kate: That—!

The spilled breath was hot.

The ribbon of her blouse was untied and her underwear was roughly pulled down.

Kate: Ah!

The moment the red ripe tip was played, a sweet voice came out.

Alfons: ……

He usually says provocative words here, but for some reason, he just kept attacking me relentlessly.

Kate: Not there—!

My legs instinctively tried to close in pleasure, but were blocked by his hand.

Alfons: ...Isn't it faster than usual?

Kate: Because, ah!

A long finger slowly enters through the gap in her shorts.

Kate: It’s hot….

I feel like I'm going crazy just from the heat of the fingertips,

(Because Alfons is silent….!)

The lewd sound of water echoed throughout the quiet room, and my aroused body came to an abrupt climax.

Kate: Nn !

Alfons silently put his hands on his belt.

Kate: Al—-

Alfons: ... Seriously, what was going on with that man?

Kate: Eh?

(That man is Roger, right?)

With an irritated look, he threw his hair back and gently stroked my cheek.

Alfons: I'd never give you to him.

Kate: … Are you perhaps jealous?

Alfons: …. What if I say yes?

Kate: Ah…..

Alfons: It's fine, so please just let me hold you.

I gasped at the warmth that replaced the fingers that smoothly left my cheeks.

Alfons: I love you because I'll be causing a big scar that'll someday drive you into despair.

She drowns in the pleasure he gives her and becomes intoxicated with him.

<The next day>

When I opened my eyes to the glare, I found myself in his arms.

(Innocence sleeping face…..)

Just as I was about to reach out to touch his cheek.

Alfons: Will you give me a kiss?

Kate: You’re awake !?

Alfons: I’m not awake. Look, my eyes are still closed, right?

Kate: You’re already awake.

Ignoring him, who was reluctant to open his eyes, I tried to get up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

Alfons: Let's go back to sleep. I drank too much and I'm really tired.

Kate: …. I think I'll go get some hangover medicine from Roger.

Alfons: When did you become such a bad girl, always mentioning other men's names in bed?

In an instant, I couldn’t help but laugh at the furrowed brows.

Alfons: What are you laughing at?

Kate: Fufu... that's because I thought that even you'd get jealous, Alfons.

He let out a sigh as I laughed.

Alfons: What if I say yes?

I put my arms around his neck, trying to answer the same lines as last night.

Kate: I’m happy

Kate: And... I was a little happy to see you different from usual.

Alfons: …. You seriously are something else.

When he finally opened his eyes, he lowered his eyebrows in annoyance, smiled, and kissed my forehead.

Alfons: You really are an idiot.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons

[mawofthemagnetar]

Scar Talks.

(This is a prequel to another tumblr fic I wrote. Check it out!)

“…As I was saying, Scar,” Doc chuckled evilly, “we have ways of making you talk.”

“Really?” Scar said incredulously. He pulled on the restraints tying his arm to the chair, “I mean, Doc, I’ve been in a lot of interrogations before. You don’t have the chops.”

Scar glanced across the room, to where Keralis was leaning against a suspiciously-blank wall. Apart from Keralis’ perch, the chamber was empty, and Scar decided to ignore it for now. He had far more pressing concerns, like the awful sartorial choices of his fellow Hermits.

Both of them were wearing matching white suits with black ties and dress shoes, which Scar thought made them look very silly. He’d humor them for awhile (and make fun of them for sure), and then he was making for the door. 

Speaking of the door… His wheelchair was still parked beside him. Not that it was much help, because the door was still locked. Great. Well, never hurt to try some honeyed words…

“By the way, this is the most accessible interrogation room I’ve ever been in. No sills, nice flat hallways, big doors. Top three for sure. Thanks for that.” Scar said warmly.

Doc sniffed, doing his best to hide his smile.

“Of course. What do you take me for? Anyway. We’re getting off-topic, Scar. Like I said, we have ways of making you talk. And you’re going to tell us everything you know.”

“I don’t think so. You two don’t have deep enough pockets for that.” Scar chuckled.  

“But Sweetface,” Keralis said, batting his eyes, “I need to know! I need to! It’s important!” 

“Well, what do you want to know? Maybe we can work something out,” Scar said smoothly, “make all of this unnecessary.”  

“Oh, I’ll tell you. You know where Etho keeps his computer, yes? And his keyboard. And his tissue box. I just want to give him better things.” Keralis said, pressing his hands to his chest, “You just have to tell us where he keeps these things. It isn’t that hard.” 

Scar shook his head. 

“So that’s what you’re after…Well, no can do, Keralis. Etho swore me to secrecy. And is paying me handsomely.” 

Keralis shrugged. 

“Suit yourself. Doc? Take it away.” 

Doc stepped in front of Scar with an evil smile. 

“One chance. Tell us where Etho keeps that keyboard, and you can leave.” 

Scar smirked. 

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Doc. I’m not telling you anything.”

Doc just shrugged, and punched a button on the wall. 

Scar spared a glance at Keralis, who was smiling benevolently. 

A slimestone flying machine slid up, revealing a well-lit room on the other side of a tinted glass wall. In that room, Iskall and Gem sat on either sides of a table, chatting away with big smiles on their faces. 

“That’s your method? Chitchat?” Scar raised an eyebrow, “This is pathetic.”

Doc leaned in, eyes blazing with menace. 

“I wouldn’t be so cocky,” he said softly, “this glass is completely soundproof. They can’t hear a word we’re saying in there. But there’s speakers in the walls. You’ll be able to hear everything.”

Scar frowned. 

“How’s that going to help?”

Doc grinned, and tapped a button on his wrist. 

“Gem? Iskall? Time for you to earn your pay. If you’re both ready…we can begin.”

Both hermits craned their necks up to look at the ceiling. They both shrugged, and then they started to talk. 

The speakers kicked on, and-

“No, that’s not right.” Gem said, “See, that Anakin guy was the bounty hunter, right? With the friend who’s dressed as a bear?”

“Oh, yeah, right. My bad. And then the guy in the like, blue and white trashcan, he’s…?” Iskall scratched his head and started to write something on a piece of paper. 

Scar’s eyes bugged out. 

“Doc. How long are they going to do this?” Scar said, beads of sweat staring to form on his forehead. His smile was gone. 

“That’s up to you.” Doc said with a vicious smile.

“-Okay, I think I got this worked out,” Gem said, “so that Obiwobi guy fought off the Death Star with a sword?”

Scar screamed. 

“Yeah, now you’re getting it. And then that Luke guy was all, “I am your father!” to, uh, what was her name again?” Iskall scratched his head. 

“I think it was Lilo?” Gem said, “Yeah, definitely Lilo.” 

Scar threw his head back and screamed.

“I’L TALK! I’LL TALK! MAKE IT STOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!”

#magnetar writes #Hermitfic #GoodtimeswithScar #Silly #IDK man I was just having fun with it

[theyluvkarolina]

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐊

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` You took my breath away, So now I can't suck in my stomach around you anymore. ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃?: Yes! (Part of 1K Event!)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Being a single mother after your ex broke things off after your daughter was born was hard, especially with your busy schedule. But with Daniel being there for every step of the way and becoming a father figure for your daughter, you wouldn’t change anything. That was until new fans began to attack you for being wwith him and how he deserves someone who isn’t “ruined”. But Daniel reassures you he wouldn’t be the one to change anything.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Mom!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ kids, self doubt and insecurity (turns to comfort), small hate from weirdos online, intoxication (nothing bad happends!! just a bit tipsy). (Reader is in late 20’s early 30’s!! No confirmed age)

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ i never wrote for danny before, and i’m trying to improve my other writing skills!

PS. “Touch Tank” is about finding a partner that loves you no matter what you look like and loves you for you 🩷

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

Instagram

y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, redbullracing and others!

y/n_l/nredbull fun never ends in miami! 🌞 congrats to my boys, @ landonorris for winning his first ever f1 race, and my baby girl for winning her first karting race! they grow up so fast 🥹

2,389 comments

username1 STOP IT NOT LITTLE VIVVY AND LANDO GETTING THEIR FIRST WINS BOTH IN MIAMI :((

username2 NOT BECAUSE THE WAY SHE WAS JUMPING UP AND DOWN IN THE RED BULL GARAGE SEEING LANDO WIN 😭🩷

danielricciardo ✔︎ Vivvy is all grown up now 🥲 so happy i got to watch her win her first karting race ❤️

→ y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎ are we going to ignore how you tried like a baby when she held her little trophy? → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ video evidence??? 👀 → y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎ sorry max, but i won’t expose the loml like this (i’ll show you it later) → danielricciardo ✔︎ this is still my replies you know 🙄 → y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎ it wasn’t me it was vivvy that wrote that → danielricciardo ✔︎ yes because Vivvy knows that your password on your phone is the year we meet. → username3 daniel being there for Vivvy and y/n since her douche of a ex left her is my roman empire. → username4 no because the way he stepped up and basically said “you’re not gonna the father in her life? fine, i’ll be it then.”

danielricciardo ✔︎ …questioning those last few photos… 🤔

→ y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎ why?? they are perfection 😞 → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ perfection is a bit of a over statement…

landonorris ✔︎ thanks mum 😋

→ y/n_l/nredbull ✔︎ anything for my son ❤️ → username5 isn’t he like two years younger than you?? → landonorris ✔︎ no i was actually birthed from her daniel has proof → danielricciardo ✔︎ don’t drag me into this. → landonorris ✔︎ okay daddy 😏 → danielricciardo ✔︎ i’m reporting to hr i feel like i need a trusted adult → username6 daniel, you are a trusted adult??? bro is 34 😭 → danielricciardo ✔︎ @ y/n_l/nredbull help me i’m being harassed by people other than vivvy and lando

username7 hey!! i’m now to f1, can anyone explain how daniel, y/n, and vivvy came to be??

→ username8 y/n and daniel met when he was still in redbull and she’s (still) a engineer! they became really good friends while daniel was there and liked y/n but she was in a relationship with a asshole that i won’t spare the details of. He cheated on her multiple times and y/n decided to cut the ties with him once Y/N ended up having Genevieve (Vivvy/Viv). Daniel was there for Y/N and Vivvy and basically stepped up as a father figure to Vivvy growing up and they began dating and here we are now!! → username9 stop that is so sweet 😭😭 → username10 idk it just feels like she was using danny to get viv to have a father in her life → username11 okay @ username10 lets just forget that daniel liked y/n for YEARS and let’s just think that y/n has no job for FUCKING REDBULL and was begging daniel to take her and viv in!!

danielricciardo ✔︎

📍 Miami

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n_l/nredbull

danielricciardo not my best race, but happy to have my good luck charms here ❤️ (congrats to laaaaannnndooooo noooooorriiiiissss for his first win)

tagged; y/n_l/nredbull

2,864 comments

username12 daniel avacodo come back is coming guys dw

→ username13 that’s what we said last year 😞

username14 HELLO THE Y/N PHOTO???

username15 MOMMY? SORRY. MOMMY? SORRY. MOMMY?

landonorris ✔︎ my eyes have been blinded by the most unthinkable photo you can show of my adoptive mother.

→ danielricciardo ✔︎ if I can see how fine she is, so does the whole world 🥴

username16 girlie is smart AND fucking hot???

→ username17 milf fr → username18 i love women in stem 😩

username19 damn how did daniel bag such a fine woman

→ username20 fine woman?? homegirl has stretch marks and looks like she hasn’t had sleep in days. she’s lucky daniel posted a good photo of her → username21 he could choose anyone but he choose the woman that only picked him so her kid has a father 🤢 → username22 shaming a MOTHER who BIRTHED A CHILD for how she looks like and saying that she doesn’t lover her partner is the lowest of the lows.

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Miami, also known as the Magic City, is a place where the excitement never stops, and the nightlife is always lively. The city is filled with vibrant clubs where the music never seems to quiet down, and the clinking of glasses creates its own unique rhythm. In honor of the race in Miami and Lando's first win, the entire grid decided to gather at a well-established, extravagant club.

To be completely honest, nightclubs were never your cup of tea. The deafening noise, pulsating music, and perspiring individuals dancing into the early hours of the morning, not to mention the sticky floors from spilled drinks, never really appealed to you. When you were pregnant with Vivvy, being able to use the "I'm pregnant" excuse was a blessing, but now, you find yourself preparing to accompany the other drivers' girlfriends for a so-called "girls' night" at the same club. 

Lately, the comments people have been leaving on your feeds getting on your nerves. About being manipulative to Daniel for only using him for Vivvy to have a father in her life, to get that you are "too old" for him, even receiving comments that you don't deserve to be with him because you weren't "up to the standards of other men in Formula 1" which were repulsive, to say the least, but... now those thoughts began to consume your mind. As you glanced in the mirror, your eyes trailing over each curve of your body, the wrinkles of your face-

"What's all this?" a voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Daniel, wearing a smirk on his face as he leans against the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh, trying to hide the scowl you were giving yourself. "The girls managed to convince me to join them for the night. They kept insisting that I need to let loose and have some fun," you explain, adjusting your lip liner.

"Maybe they're right. You sound like a grandma," Daniel teases, and you raise an eyebrow in response. "I'm just saying that maybe it would be good for you. Relax, spend some time with the girls," he adds, offering a supportive perspective.

"What about you? Are you going to go and hang out with Max and the others?" You questioned, turning over to look at him, your eyes meeting his chocolate brown ones. Daniel shook his head.

"Not tonight. " He comments with a slight shake of his head, curls bouncing. "Besides, it's your time to have fun, and who'll look after Vivvy?"

"Danny, you aren't obligated to-"

"I know. But I'm the one that wants to spend time with her." Daniel reassures. You smile at him before turning back to the mirror. A slight frown forms on your lips the more you look at your reflection.

"What's with that frown?" Daniel's smile shifts as he sees you look over each crevasse of yourself as he walks over and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Can I ask you something?" You start, placing your hands over his, caressing your thumb over his hand.

"Anything."

"Why me? You... you have anyone you can choose from, Danny. Those models that come knocking at your door at any opportunity, the actresses, the singers, all these beautiful women that have it all and are stunning. And everyone says how perfect they are for you... so, why me?"

"Y/N... look at me," Daniel says, turning you to face him. "I chose you because-"

Before Daniel can respond, the doorbell rings and the bathroom door swings open, Vivvy excitedly rushes into the bathroom, socks sliding on the tile and eventually bumping into Daniel's leg. "Mommy! Aunt Kelly is here, and Miss Alexandra, and Miss Rebecca, are here! They're waiting for you! Oh, and they brought presents!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as Daniel picks her up, securing her in one arm.

"Well, it's rude not to say hello, right? Come on!" Daniel grins at her, using his other to ruffle her head. Vivvy let out a squeal along with a "Danny! Stop it!" leaving her lips with some giggles. You quickly put on some lipgloss before rushing out to meet everyone else.

"Guys, you didn't have to get anything-" You start as Vivvy reaches out for the gift from Rebecca, but she quickly shoots it down.

"Oh please Y/N, it's nothing! Besides, we love Vivvy! It's hard to not get anything for her when she looks at us with those big eyes..." Rebecca explained, beaming from ear to ear as she fixed Vivvy's hair after being messed up by Daniel. You exhaled, Rebecca's bright expression beginning to make your own eyes crinkle.

"Alright, Danny, no sweets before bed, be sure she brushes her teeth, and-"

"Make sure she gets in bed before 8:45. I know, I know. It's nothing new." Daniel replies, rolling his amber eyes in a joking manner. The girls begin saying goodbye, stepping back outside the door, but Daniel grabs your hand making you pause. 

"We'll talk about that question later. Okay?" He says, making you blink. "Now go have fun."

You quickly give Vivvy and Daniel a kiss, the door closing.

"Well, Vivvy, it's just you and me now. Let's get this movie night started."

"Yay!"

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

"Hey, Danny?" Vivvy's voice interrupts Daniel as they both sit on the couch, movie playing in the background.

"Yes, Vivvy?" Daniel turns to look at her, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Do you love Mommy and me?" Vivvy's innocent question catches Daniel off guard, but the shock in his eyes soon turn to tenderness as he takes a moment to formulate his response.

"Of course, I love you both very much," Daniel replies, his voice filled with sincerity and love. "You and your mommy mean the world to me." Vivvy smiles contentedly, snuggling into her blanket as she listens to Daniel's reassuring words.

“Did i ever tell you on how we met?” He questions, moving her little strands of hair away from her face.

“A lot.” Vivvy mumbles, voice muffled from the soft material she’s clinging to.

“Well, how about I start from the very beginning?”

“Not again…”

iMessages

Real Life

As the night wore on, the club's vibrant atmosphere seemed to seep into your very bones. Despite your initial reluctance, the pulsating music and the infectious energy of the girls pulled you in. Kelly, Alexandra, and Rebecca kept you on the dance floor, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. Drinks were shared, stories exchanged, and for a few hours, you forgot all about the comments and the insecurities that had been weighing you down.

But now, as you stumbled through the front door of your home, the effects of the night were starting to catch up with you. The room swaying slightly, and you had to steady yourself against the wall. The house was quiet, except for the soft hum of the television coming from the living room. You made your way toward the sound, the familiar warmth of the home drawing you in.

Daniel was on the couch, a sleeping Vivvy curled up next to him, her little head resting on his lap. He looked up as you entered, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, there you are," he said softly, careful not to wake Vivvy. "Did you have fun?"

You nodded, the room still spinning a bit. "Yeah, I did. But I think I might have had one too many drinks." You giggled, trying to keep your balance as you approached the couch.

Daniel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sounds like a successful girls' night."

You plopped down next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. "It was. But... Danny, can I ask you something?" Your voice unsteady slightly, due to the mix of alcohol and lingering doubt.

"Of course," he replied, turning to face you, his expression becoming serious as he sensed the change in your tone.

You took a deep breath, the question that had been haunting you slipping out before you could stop it. "Do you really love me? Even though I have Vivvy and... I'm not as young or as glamorous as those other women you could be with?"

Daniel's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Y/N, I love you more than anything. And Vivvy... she's not just your daughter, she's our daughter. You two are my family."

"But all those people say—" you started, but Daniel cut you off with a gentle kiss, silencing your doubts.

"Don't listen to them," he whispered against your lips. "They don't know us. They don't know how much you mean to me, how much Vivvy means to me. You're the one I chose, and I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but they were tears of relief and happiness. "Thank you, Danny. I needed to hear that."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. "Anytime. Now, how about we get you to bed?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. As Daniel helped you up and guided you to the bedroom, you glanced back at the couch where Vivvy was still sound asleep. Your heart swelled with love and gratitude.

"Goodnight, Vivvy," you whispered softly.

Daniel smiled as he tucked you into bed, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Goodnight, my love," he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before leaving to get Vivvy into her own bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, the lingering doubts and insecurities melted away, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be – in the arms of the man who loved you and the family you had built together.

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝ #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula one x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one imagines #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #lando norris

[scoonsalicious]

7.3 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (unprotected piv, slight praise kink, slight size kink)

Word Count: 2.8k

Previously On...: You finally got Bucky's dick down your throat <3

A/N: Again, sorry about yesterday, besties! My spirit child took precedence. At least this is a decent-sized, smutty update!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were pretty proud of yourself, you had to admit. You had no idea how many women Bucky had slept with over the years (and, if you were being completely honest, you really didn’t want to know), but given he was well over a hundred, you figured it had to be a pretty decent number. Yet, here he was, lying next to you, trying to recover like you’d literally just sucked his very soul out of his body. You swore you’d never swallowed so much cum in your entire life, let alone at one time. For a moment there, you’d briefly wondered if you’d be the only person in history to literally drown in cum.

You’d never enjoyed giving your ex-husband head before, but giving it to Bucky had felt almost like a religious experience. He’d allowed you to take your time, to set your own pace, and do what felt natural to you– not just grab both sides of your head and fuck your face like a fleshlight, the way Connor had been so fond of doing. Your mouth was going to be so sore tomorrow, though. It was like having a forearm in there. You laughed quietly to yourself. Totally worth it.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Bucky asked, rolling over onto his side so he could face you properly.

“I was just reminiscing about how huge your dick felt in my mouth, Sarge,” you told him honestly. 

Bucky wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “Major,” he moaned into your shoulder, “you keep talking like that and you’re gonna get me going all over again.”

You smiled and scooted closer to whisper in his ear. “That cock was so big, I thought I was gonna choke on it, Sergeant.” Bucky shivered and, sure enough, you could feel the appendage in question hardening against your stomach as you spoke. He was insatiable, and you loved it.

“Come back with me to the Compound tonight,” Bucky said. “It’s closer than your place and I’m not going to be able to wait much longer to be inside of you.”

You sat up, torn between being touched that he wanted to take you back to the home he shared with his friends, and wanting to just jump his bones immediately. In the end, being horny won out. “Why wait, Bucky? We’re both already naked, and you’ve already blown one load out here. What’s a couple more?” You reached down and grabbed his semi-hard member, stroking it gently. 

“Fuuuuck,” Bucky groaned. He sat up and placed a hand over yours to cease your ministrations. “Sugar, we can’t,” he said through gritted teeth, as though it pained him to put a stop to your actions. “This is a public park. What if we get caught?”

You threw your head back and laughed at that. “Bucky,” you said through your giggling, “that’s half the fun! Besides,” you said, turning a bit more serious once you saw the concern in his eyes, “it’s after hours on a Sunday night. No one is coming to the park now. And even if they did, what are the odds of them finding us? We’re so far off trail.”

“They could see the lanterns,” Bucky said, “and follow the light. And I just… Nevermind, it’s stupid.” He turned his face from you, embarrassed. You were beginning to love the way he shied from you when he was afraid he was going to say the wrong thing.

You frowned and gently tilted his chin so he was facing you again. “What’s ‘stupid’? Bucky, you can tell me; I’m not going to judge you, I promise.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “I just… don’t want anyone else seeing you like this,” he murmured, running his vibranium hand down your shoulder. “You look like a fucking goddess tonight, Major. I want to be the only one that gets to worship you.”

His words couldn’t have had more of an impact on you if you had been physically struck by them. “Bucky,” you whined, pulling him close to kiss him. You had a fleeting thought of self consciousness, that he’d be able to taste himself on your lips, but he didn’t seem to care as his tongue sought entry into your mouth. He kissed you like he was dying of thirst, and your lips were the only source of water for miles.

“Let’s compromise,” you told him once you’d broken apart. “We can blow out some of the lanterns, so we’re not so easy to find.” Bucky nodded, seeming to like the idea of your offer. “Then,” you continued, “you can fuck me under the stars.” 

*

The two of you must have looked absolutely ridiculous, you thought, traipsing around, completely naked, as you collected all of the things that Bucky had brought for your picnic and packing them away into the basket, save for the blankets and some pillows, giggling like idiots the entire time. You wanted to have everything packed up as neatly as possible before blowing out the lanterns, so that when it did come time to finally leave, you wouldn’t risk leaving anything behind because you’d been fumbling around in the dark. You’d both completely forgotten about actually eating dinner.

As you worked, you kept sneaking occasional glances over at Bucky, admiring the way the light rippled over his body. The man was essentially made entirely of muscle, and yeah, you’d seen him naked before, in the confines of your condo, but something about seeing all of him outside, under an open sky, did something to you. It made you feel… feral.

“You okay there, doll?” Bucky asked, causing you to refocus and clear your head. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Why?” you asked him.

Bucky smiled as he walked over toward you. “Well, you stopped moving, then got this dazed look on your face, and you were just kind of staring at my dick,” he said. Reaching you, he put his hands on your hips and playfully yanked you toward him. 

You chuckled at his apt description of what you must have looked like. “Just admiring the scenery, Sarge,” you teased. You could feel your desperation for him growing by the second. You took his hand and guided it down your body, between your breasts, down the skin of your stomach, until you had it against your aching heat. 

Bucky took the initiative of running two of his thick fingers between your folds, gathering your copious slick. “Oh, sugar,” he said, his voice almost patronizing, “you’re fucking soaked.” He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked off your arousal. “Shit, you taste so damn sinful. Be a good girl and go wait for me on the blanket while I finish up, alright?”

You nodded and did as he asked. You watched as he quickly finished gathering all the lanterns and blowing them out, one by one, until he was just a silhouette of shadow among shadows. 

“Hey, sugar,” Bucky said through the darkness as he climbed toward you across the blanket. Your eyes were adjusting to the starlight, and though you couldn’t make him out perfectly, you could see him much easier.

“Hi, Sarge,” you replied with a soft giggle as you reached for him. “Come fuck me, please.”

“Oh, doll,” Bucky purred, “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.” He kneeled down on the blanket, resting back on his heels, and, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, he picked you up, positioning you so you were facing him, straddling your legs on either side of his torso. “Tonight, I’m making love to you, Major. Put your arms around my neck.”

You obeyed him dumbly, his words having driven all rational thought completely out of your head. Bucky reached underneath you, putting his hands under your ass and using them to pull you close to his chest. “Are you ready?” he asked. 

You nodded desperately; you were practically dripping for him by this point, but something hit you. “Fuck,” you hissed. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“What happened to my always prepared Girl Scout?” Bucky asked with a grin. 

“I thought we were going out to dinner!” you told him in exasperation. “I didn’t think we’d end up fucking in the middle of the woods! I just assumed we’d end up fucking back at my place, where I have copious amounts of condoms!”

Bucky laughed at that. “Well, maybe we should both start carrying them at all times then, sugar. Just in case. Seems we’re making it a habit of not always gettin’ to a bed in time.” But then his face turned serious. “If you’re worried about diseases or whatever,  you don’t have to be– the serum, it prevents me from contractin’ anything, so I can’t pass stuff on, either. Kind of like a catch-all vaccination. The only thing we’d have to worry about is… well,” his eyes glanced down to your belly. “You know. I can always pull out before I finish, if you want.”

Just the idea of feeling him inside of you, with absolutely nothing between you, invaded your thoughts and filled your mind like a thick smoke, reaching every crevice of your brain until it was all you could think about. To actually feel him cum inside of you… “Don’t you dare,” you said, a little more sharply than you intended. “Pull out, I mean. Fuck, I wanna feel you, Bucky. All of you. I’m clean, and I’m on birth control. I can pick up some Plan B in the morning, just to be safe.”

Bucky closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, sugar, if you’re sure.”

You tightened your grip around his neck. “I’m so sure, Sergeant Barnes,” you said. “I wanna feel every inch of you inside of me.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex without a condom before,” he confessed. “Don’t take it personal if I don’t last. It just means you feel so fucking good, I couldn’t help myself.”

You snorted at that, and Bucky grinned at you. “As long as you make sure I cum, too,” you said, kissing his jaw, “I don’t care how long you last.” You both knew he would never leave you unsatisfied.

“Hey.” Bucky jerked his chin so he was looking into your eyes again. “I’m really glad that, this first time for me without anything between me and a dame, it’s with you.”

You didn’t have words to describe how that made you feel, so you did the only thing that would properly convey the depth of your affection toward him– you kissed him as you lowered yourself onto his dick. You were so wet, he met virtually no resistance as he tilted his hips up into you. And your body, now after your… eleventh, or was it twelfth?-- time in two and a half days, knew how to welcome him.

“Holy fucking shit!” you gasped.

“What is, doll?” Bucky asked, eyes wide with concern. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Do you have any idea how deep you feel inside of me right now, Bucky?” you asked him. “It’s like I can feel you in my soul.” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, and then he started using his arms to guide you up and down on his cock, sliding himself nearly all the way out before pulling you back down on him again, and each stroke felt like ecstasy. “Damn it, doll,” Bucky said, looking down to watch where his cock disappeared inside of you, “you feel so fuckin’ good! I don’t know if I can ever go back to fucking you covered again!”

“Oh, god, Bucky,” you moaned. You didn’t know if you could go back, either, not with the way you could feel every single vein of him drag against your inner walls. His motions were deliberate, slow, gently feeding the fire instead of pouring gasoline on it the way he usually did. It was intoxicating.

“Look at me, sugar,” he begged, his voice holding a tone of longing. Your eyes met his, and despite the dark, they shone. You couldn’t look away as he pumped into you. “You’re fucking amazing, Major,” he gasped, timing his statements to match his languid thrusts. “So goddamn beautiful.” Thrust. “You make me laugh.” Thrust. “You’re brave as hell.” Thrust. “You’re independent.” Thrust. “Strong.” Thrust. “Smart.” Thrust.

He kept praising you as he increased his rhythm, hips thrusting up into you faster and faster, the whole while keeping his eyes locked on yours. The coil inside of you was tightening, constricting the expanse of your lungs, making your breath come out in shallow gasps. 

You kissed him, putting every ounce of lust into the motion, moaning into his mouth as he never broke stride and brought you closer to the edge. “Bucky,” you moaned into his mouth. “Fuck, Bucky, you’re making me feel so good, honey. Don’t stop, please!” 

“Never, sugar,” Bucky grunted back. “Fuck, wanna make love to you until the day I die.” You sucked in a breath at his words, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Bucky’s thrusts faltered. “Doll,” he said, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from your cheek, “did I say something wrong? I’m sorry!”

“No!” you cried, shaking your head as you worked your own hips to make up for his loss of motion. “No, Bucky, shit, honey, you’re saying everything so right. I’m crying because I can’t remember the last time I felt so goddamn happy.” 

Bucky resumed his thrusts with a renewed purpose. Getting up on knees, he repositioned you so you were lying on your back, his giant frame leaning over you. “Come on, sugar,” Bucky grunted as he snaked a hand down to your clit and began to rub. “Need to feel you cum around my cock. Show me how happy you are, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow to bring your face closer to his. Grabbing a hold of the chain that held your name, you pulled his face to yours and kissed him. “‘M so close, honey,” you moaned into his lips. “Need you to give it to me.”

“I wanna give you everything, Major,” he grunted, kissing you again. And then, suddenly, it was all over for you, the coil snapping, and you were falling, shouting his name to the stars and the sky. Bucky’s thrusts lost their careful rhythm, and you could feel him spilling into you, wave after warm wave of cum pouring down your channel. 

“Fuck, sugar,” Bucky cried. “Can feel you squeezin’ me. Shit, baby– you feel so fucking good, sugar. ‘S so good, can’t stop cumming.” His words lost all meaning as they devolved into grunts and moans as he collapsed on you, his hips still thrusting as if with a mind of their own.

The weight of him should have been suffocating, but instead, you never felt safer than you did with his body splayed on top of yours. He held you to him, as though afraid that, were he to let go, you would float away on the breeze, and you felt so light after your orgasm, you very well could have. Mumbling sweet nothings into the side of your neck, Bucky’s flesh hand found your hair, stroking it. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into your skin. “Thank you so much, Major.”

You let out a shuddering breath, hands gripping the muscles of his upper back as you held him, legs finding their way around his waist. “Thank you, Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “That was everything.”

After a few moments, Bucky gently rolled off of you, but his hands never left your body as he held you close, running his fingers along the meridian of your spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asked you. Always considerate, always checking in. It made your heart swell with affection. Fuck, with love for him.

“So good,” you told him. You placed a gentle kiss on his pectoral. “How are you feeling? Did you have a good time?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, sugar?” he asked with mock incredulity. “Every time I’m with you feels like the best time of my fucking life. And I’m not just saying that,” he added, anticipating your incoming protest. “You… I don’t know what it is you do to me, Major. I just know that, when I look at you, things feel right, for the first time since I shipped out in ‘43. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

But goddamn if this man didn’t know how to say just the right words to you. “If you’re not careful, Bucky Barnes,” you said, hoping to put enough tease in your voice to mask how sincerely you felt the words you were saying, “I’m gonna end up falling in love with you.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[starkwlkr]

you’re so vain | jenson button

through the decades masterlist

California 1972

The day you met Jenson Button was the day you swore you would never fall in love with, but of course his charming smile had convinced you. But then came the worst part, he had become someone else. If you looked up the definition of vain in the dictionary, a picture of Jenson would be there. Ever since he became the world champion, it was all he could talk about.

“Hey, lovely, why don’t you put down the pen and paper and let’s go drive around? I know the perfect place for you and me. Remember how you used to love driving with me?” Jenson said over the phone one day.

“I would rather die than ever go on a date with you again, Jenson Button.” And you ended the call. You weren’t sure how he even got your number in the first place, but one thing was for sure, you would never go on a date with him.

After dismissing your call with Jenson, you walked back to your recording booth where your band was. You had a melody stuck in your head for the past couple of days and you desperately wanted to write down lyrics for it, but nothing came up.

“Hey, Y/n! Some Button guy keeps calling the landline, says he wants to take you out to dinner.” The drummer of your band said as he entered the room.

“For fucks sake.” You sighed. “Tell him I’m not here, that I left the country or something.”

“Okay . . . ” The drummer, Brad, said confused but went with it. He walked back to the phone.

“Button guy? What’s that about?” The guitarist, Dave, asked.

“He’s a formula one driver, but he’s so egotistical! This one time we went to a party and he walks in like he’s on a yacht! I can’t believe I even went out with him. . .” You sighed.

“Aren’t all formula one drivers a little bit egotistical? Or this Button guy worse?” Brad came back. “He asked if you were writing a song about him and I hung up. Can’t believe you dated him.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “What’s worse is that we’re supposed to perform at his boss’s birthday party this weekend. He’s definitely going to be there.”

When you were with Jenson, his boss had asked you to perform at his birthday party and you being the kind person, you said yes. Now there was no way of getting out of it.

Brad then spoke. “Well if he wants a song written about him. . . I say you write one and you perform it at the party.”

It didn’t take you long to grab your journal and pen and start writing down lyrics. You had your new song finished it about three hours and spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a melody with the band. Soon, Jenson Button would hear his song in front of thousands of people.

—

Jenson had arrived to the party as if he owned the place. He had a pretty woman by his side and a beer in his hand. He spotted his friends and greeted them.

“This beauty right here is . . .” Jenson truly couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Sarah? Linda? “Tell them your name, love, it sounds better when you say it cause of your accent. Music to my ears!”

“Amara, nice to meet you.” The woman said with a lovely Italian accent.

“How’d you meet each other?” Jenson’s friend asked.

“Met her in Saratoga.” Jenson replied. In reality, that was all he remembered. What was he doing in Saratoga? Who knows. . .

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” The host of the party and Jenson’s boss announced on the microphone. He stood on the stage with a bright smile. “First off, thank you for joining me and my family this evening. We’ve had a very successful year, thanks to our world champion, Jenson Button!”

A bright light shined on Jenson, who waved to the crowd, clearly loving the attention. Soon enough, Jenson wouldn’t like it at all.

“Now, for the main event, miss y/n l/n!”

You walked to the stage with total confidence. You wore your best dress and heels, ready to sing your heart out. The crowd cheered for you and the band, all but one. Jenson.

“Isn’t that the chick you were dating?” A friend whispered to him.

“Her name is y/n.” Jenson corrected.

“Well hello! You all look very lovely tonight. We are very happy to be here and I hope we all have a great time. So our first song is a new one, but feel free to dance.” You smiled at the crowd as your band started playing.

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye Your scarf it was apricot

Jenson watched as you sang beautifully. He had seen you perform many times before but this one felt different. Even his date was loving the new song. Amara bopped her head as you sang.

It wasn’t until the chorus that Jenson started to realize what was going on.

“You're so vain! You probably think this song is about you!” You sang as you looked at Jenson.

Of course she would do this, thought Jenson. He looked around and saw the crowd living the song. How could they enjoy it?

“I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?”

As you continue singing, Jenson remembered the phone call he made several days ago.

“Is she writing a song about me? Oh, poor lovesick y/n can’t get over me.”

This was his song. Fuck.

Suddenly, the confident Jenson was nowhere to be seen. You took that confidence and stomped on it with your pretty little heels. For once in his life, Jenson hated being your muse.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #jenson button fic #jenson button #jb22

[literaila]

Hey, I don’t know what you make of love triangles but I’ve always wondered how Typical Family would look like if reader once had a “not so obvious” crush on Geto and the two almost looked like a couple except Geto only saw her as a friend and Satoru doesn’t actually start to “see” reader until he sees how broken up she is after Geto’s betrayal. Kind of looks like the thing between Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto (ahem Except Sakura takes the less toxic path). You don’t have to indulge in this nor does it have to be canon to your original story but I’m just curious 🌚

now i dont think satoru was ever jealous of suguru because 1. suguru is all-knowing and 2. suguru is a literal big brother to you and there is only platonic admiration there.

but. you know who satoru is jealous of? nanami kento.

okay, there’s really no arguing—the boy needs a haircut.

he also needs to stop letting you hang off of him, and taking you out to dinner (because you find his interest in food a bit bizarre, and funny), and making you laugh all of the goddamn time.

satoru may be the strongest, the prettiest—but he has the disadvantage of being older than you. it’s not often yaga sends the two of you somewhere together—or any of the first years with the seconds.

and it’s just not fair, okay?

the only reason you even train with satoru is because he’s the only person who can see your technique, the only one who has a fair fight.

in fact, the only reason satoru gets to hang out with you at all is because you like everyone else. your classmates like suguru and shoko—and tolerate satoru.

and maybe it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees you standing a little bit too close to nanami. maybe it makes him feel like his world could collapse—disappear—right in front of him.

he does not want to endure being subjected to your schoolgirl crush on a boy who can’t even be bothered to cut his hair. and what would you see in him anyway? are brown eyes preferable to his outer-worldly blue ones? is satoru’s hair just not yellow enough?

…is nanami your type?

all of this to say, it’s definitely not satoru’s fault that he just accidentally threw nanami across the courtyard.

it’s the boys fault, obviously, for daring you to wish him good luck, for saying something so funny before they began that his smug face is still so pleased from making you laugh.

it’s not satoru’s fault.

but he does realize his mistake when instead of aweing over him like he’d wanted—you rush to nanami.

satoru is standing there, a rare frown on his face, looking down at his hands like they’re going to give him some answers.

“are you taking your anger out on the first years, now?” suguru asks, dryly, looking over to where you’re checking nanami’s pupillary response.

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” satoru grumbles, feeling even more betrayed.

what does that kid offer than he can’t?

“you know you could just talk to her, right? you don’t need to beat nanami up to prove a point.”

“if he wasn’t so weak i wouldn’t have—“

and then you’re walking back to them, nanami’s arm slung over your back as you half carry him. his face is already puffing up. “where’s shoko?”

you give him a look with unbridled rage. satoru can already feel the scolding coming on.

“i think she had a meeting with yaga, or something,” satoru answers, giving you his best innocent look.

it does nothing.

suguru inspects nanami. “do you need help?”

“no,” you frown at the boy hanging on you and sigh. “i’m taking him to the infirmary. i don’t know where yu went, but if you see him will you tell him that we left?”

“sure.”

suguru nudges satoru. “uh, yeah. we’ll tell him.”

you nod sternly at them both. “thank you.”

and then you’re walking away, even closer to nanami than you were before.

satoru is already pouting. it doesn’t take much.

“you’re stupid, you know that?”

“he asked me to—!”

“he wanted to learn. not get a concussion for no reason.”

satoru waves a hand. “he wont even remember it tomorrow.”

suguru is smirking at him, looking like he knows something that satoru doesn’t. “because he has brain damage?”

“because shoko will heal him.”

suguru only shakes his head. “i’m going to find haibara. he probably got lost again.”

satoru nods but remains there, with his arms crossed.

seriously, nanami kento of all people?

*

meanwhile, you’re lugging kento up onto one of the tables in the infirmary, feeling like you should’ve forced gojo to carry him the whole way.

you would’ve—if the sight of him didn’t make you want to rip your hair out.

…for a multitude of reasons, of course.

“okay. you okay? how’s your head?”

“bruised.”

you snort, pushing his hair back so you can see the black eye that’s already developing. at least it won’t get the chance to turn purple, you think.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why gojo did that.”

kento laughs, leaning again away from your hand. you wonder if it’s his possible concussion, or if what you said was really all that funny.

you’ve only gotten him to laugh like… three times.

“you can tell him that i’m not interested in stealing you away.”

“gojo?”

he nods.

“why would i tell him that?”

nanami’s eyes closed. he looks like he’s aged years in the last hour. “are you naturally ignorant, or are you trying to distract me?”

you cross your arms. “what do you mean?”

“whatever’s going on between you and that white haired freak, just leave me out of it.”

“going on? there’s nothing going on. gojo is just an idiot—“

“seems like it’s spreading.”

“are you sure you’re okay, ken? i think you’re going crazy.”

nanami sighs. you can practically see his eyes rolling under his eyelids. “where’s shoko?”

you look around, biting your lip. “i don’t know… i thought she’d be here by now. i’ll go check the classrooms.”

he nods.

“don’t fall asleep, okay? i mean it.”

“just hurry.”

and you turn around the door, more questions running through your head than when you walked in.

*

satoru is still standing there, contemplating his life choices (of which there have been few) when you’re running back across the courtyard.

but you slow as you near him, your eyes filled with intent.

and maybe he was waiting for this.

“you asshole,” you say, hitting him on the shoulder—which he allows because any moment of you touching him is one that satoru wants to savor. “what were you thinking?”

he stands there, completely still, for just a moment more. you’re here now. with him. who’s with nanami then?

still, he shrugs. “i just forgot how weak he was.”

“oh, you forgot? you forgot that it was training and kento isn’t some special grade curse you—“

“is he dead?”

“what? why would you say that?”

“if he was really a special grade curse he’d already be dead.”

“you’re so arrogant,” you grind out, shaking your head at him. “and reckless! kento probably has a concussion.”

“then why aren’t you looking after him?”

“i—what?”

“why are you here yelling at me,” satoru gestures to himself, a grin forming on his face. “instead of making sure that he’s okay?”

“i—“ your mouth opens. then closes. “i went to go look for shoko and i didn’t think that you…” you shake your head again, frowning.

satoru just smiles at you.

he likes you a bit flushed and angry anyway.

“stop smiling at me like that!”

“what? i’m not allowed to smile now?”

“no. after today you’re not allowed to do anything. you’re lucky i’m such a good person or else you’d be six feet under—“

“you expect me to believe that you would actually kill me?”

“if i didn’t have a moral obligation, yes.”

satoru laughs.

“shut up,” you say, hitting him again. “i’m angry enough that i could do it.”

he shakes his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder. he has to make up for all of the time that nanami got to cling to you—has to repossess this, or he might go insane.

“that’s not why i’m laughing.”

“get off of me.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” satoru whispers, right in your ear, delighting in a shiver that you can’t hold back. “even if you could. you like me too much to do it.”

you push him off of you, scowling. “i do not like you—“ you insist, only slightly breathless. “you just beat up my friend for no reason.”

“friend?”

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking up at satoru like he’s a demon sent straight from hell—just to torment you.

have you ever looked at nanami like that?

no, satoru thinks, you haven’t.

“yes, friend,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, “i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but really. why is everyone acting so weird today?”

satoru’s grin is almost blinding. there’s no one else you get so worked up over. no one else who you would pause just to yell at.

“c’mon,” he says, instead of answering. he pushes himself back onto you, pulling you close by your waist. “i’ll look for shoko with you. you can tell me about how much you like me on the way.”

“gojo satoru, i will still murder you—“

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

[krirebr]

More Than This 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, all of the Thrombeys being really awful actually, explicit language, references to bad sex, flagrant disregard for HIPAA (actually, just assume that HIPAA doesn't exist in this universe), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh god. I promise that there will be a point when this isn't so sad all the time and that point is soon. But it also isn't today. I'm so sorry. 😬

Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91 who listened to me whine and read countless fuzzy screenshots, and gave great advice and was just all around awesome. And to @stargazingfangirl18 who reached out with encouragement when the words just weren't coming.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom had the complete collection of Harlan’s books. You couldn’t say exactly why that surprised you, but it did. He even had the two poorly-received romance novels Harlan had written under a pseudonym. You hadn’t known the two of them were so close, but then again, you still didn’t really know anything about Ransom.

So that’s what you’d been doing with your days, making your way through Harlan’s complete works. You were currently reading one about an au pair that had been found dead in her charge’s locked nursery when your phone rang. 

Your brow furrowed. The list of people who ever contacted you had gotten much shorter since you’d moved to Boston. Steve, Ransom, Linda unfortunately. That was pretty much it. You looked down at your phone to see your mother’s name. Oh.

You’d expected her to reach out in some way since your wedding and had tried very hard not to feel hurt when she hadn’t. Everyone’s lives had moved on. You were the only one stuck. But you still hadn’t had it in you to be the one who called her. You took a deep breath and answered your phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! How are you?”

You kept in your sigh. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said, but she sounded sad. She always sounded so fucking sad. It struck you then, that that’s probably how you’d sound too, in ten or twenty years. Maybe less. Probably a lot less. “It’s so nice to hear your voice honey.”

“Yeah,” you said, and, pathetically, you could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes. You weren’t angry with her. You couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault she was so broken. It was inevitable. For all of you. And your frustration with her didn’t change how much you missed her. Missed home. Missed the way things used to be. “It’s good to hear you too.”

“I know it’s been a while,” she said softly, “but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled. How are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” you said quietly. You paused. You didn’t want to say anything bad or worry anyone, but also it was your mom. “I don’t know. It’s different here. I don’t have anything to do.” 

She just chuckled. “Cherish that. It’ll change soon and then you’ll miss this time.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she continued. “And how’s Ransom?”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t want to talk about him. Things had been… better since your panic attack. He came home at a decent hour regularly. You fucked most nights now. But he was still just this looming presence. You didn’t know what to do with him. “He’s fine,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently the wrong answer, judging by the little hum she made. “I know it’s hard at the beginning. When I first married your father–” she cut herself off with a deep breath. “Remember, honey, keeping him happy is your one job now. It’ll get easier the longer you do it.”

A few tears finally broke free and fell down your cheeks. “I don’t– I don’t know him. I don’t know what makes him happy.”

“Then finding out will be a good use of your free time, won’t it?” You glanced at the book beside you, feeling shamed in spite of yourself. “I know it feels so hard, but men are shockingly easy. They just want to be taken care of. That’s all you have to do. Make him dinner. Keep his home warm. Give him heirs. Don’t argue. That’s all. You’re going to be such a good wife to him, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You shrunk down into the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, making yourself as small as possible. You hated this. Hated that she didn’t want more for you. That she’d never tried to give you more. But you were tired, too, of being upset with her for not doing the impossible. What else was she supposed to have done? What else could she give you when she didn’t have anything herself? “Ok,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“Joseph says hello, of course,” she said, and you wanted to laugh. He’d done no such thing. “He’s so proud that you’ve made such a good match. He’ll be happy to hear it’s going well.”

“Mmm,” was all you were able to say. You hated this. You couldn’t do it anymore. “It’s so good to hear from you, mom. But uh, I have to– I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, alright. I miss you so much, sweetheart. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”

You could barely hold the tears back now. “I love you too,” you said, your voice thick. “Bye.” The moment you hung up the phone, the damn broke. You couldn’t stop it. You cried for your mom. You cried for yourself. You cried for the way everything had changed and there was no going back. You cried because this was a day when it felt like no one on earth was on your side. A shaking Lola forced her way into your lap and you held her until you were able to calm down.

Once you’d stopped crying, you looked around. You couldn’t sit still, your mother’s words ringing in your ears. Your eyes locked on the kitchen. That was something you could do. You glanced at the time. If Ransom came home at his new regular time, it would be tight, but you could do it if you made something simple. But not too simple. Something that showed effort. That you were trying. 

You got up and looked in the fridge. All those tidy little glass containers full of meals his housekeeper, Carol, made. You’d never felt like they were taunting you before, but now. Now you wanted to smash them. You could do this. You could make him like you. Show him what you were worth. You could make yourself a life better than your mother’s, maybe. Get him on your side.

There weren’t a ton of raw ingredients, but after combing through the entire contents of the fridge and pantry, you found what you’d need for a decent spaghetti. Carol was probably planning it for later in the week. Well, now she wouldn’t have to. You’d do it yourself.

You put some music on and got to work. Losing yourself in the prep. But you’d lost yourself too much maybe, because you were still chopping when Ransom walked in the door. 

Lola, of course, rushed to greet him. It still rankled. She didn’t realize that one wrong move would have him kicking her out. His words from that first dinner had never left your mind. But a few days ago, he’d started reaching down to pet her as she danced around him. You didn’t know what either of them were playing at.

He looked at you, now trying to hurry through the rest of your prep, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making dinner,” you said, gesturing to all your work obviously. You looked at the time. You weren’t slow. He was early. Why the fuck was he early? He was ruining all your plans.

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, then shoes. “Carol’s put plenty of meals in the fridge.”

“Because I wanted to!” You said, your knife coming down on the onion under your hand too hard.

The knife hitting the cutting board caught his attention. He looked at what you were doing. “I don’t like onions.”

You threw down the knife more carelessly than you should have. It slid across the cutting board before coming to a stop at the edge of the counter. “Then why were they in the pantry?!”

“How should I know?!” he shouted back, matching your tone. But then he looked at you and stopped. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

You froze. Shit. You hadn’t even thought to check what you looked like. You swiped at your face and turned away. “It’s the onions. Obviously.”

“Your face– that looks like more than onions.” He now stood at the edge of the kitchen, only the island between you.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, then forced yourself to take a breath. “My mom called,” you conceded. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” was all he said for a moment and then, “You and your parents are close then?”

You couldn’t explain why the question irritated you so much. Maybe it was the assumption of homesickness. Or referring to Joseph as your parent. Or just him being here earlier than he was supposed to be, asking you anything. You couldn’t keep the shortness out of your voice when you responded, “My mom. Sometimes.” 

You looked around at your progress, the mess you’d made, the onions he didn’t want. So much for keeping him happy. What a stupid idea. You felt done. Over everything. You began cleaning up all the food, scooping it into the garbage.

“What are you doing?”

“I changed my mind! You don’t want any of this anyway. Have one of Carol’s fucking dinners.”

“The fuck is going on with you?!” he shouted as he watched you clean up the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” you repeated, throwing the cutting board into the sink. “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” You stomped over to the staircase.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he called after you.

“No! I’m fine!” You shouted as you took the first few stairs.

“Yeah, you sure seem fucking fine,” he grumbled as he headed to the fridge. 

You stopped and glared at him. “Wake me if I’m asleep when you come up. I’m ovulating, so. Tonight’s important.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, flatly. “I got your text.” That was news to you. He'd never responded to it. As you turned to continue up the stairs, you heard him add under his breath, “Although I’m not sure why you feel like you need to be awake for it.”

You stopped and turned around, coming back down a step. “What was that?!”

He turned to you, one of Carol’s glass containers in his hand, and sighed. “Nothing. I’ve had a long day.” You just stared at each other and then he added, “Aren’t you tired of it being such a chore?”

Something crumpled in you at that, but you didn’t want to stop and look at what it was. “Well,” you said. “The sooner I’m pregnant, the sooner it won’t be.” Then you turned and stomped the rest of the way upstairs. 

When he woke you later that night, he was already ready to go. You didn’t even take off your pajamas, just slid your shorts down to your calves. He was right. It was a chore.

It was a few days later when he texted you in the middle of the day. You were hiding in the bedroom while Carol cleaned downstairs. She was still mad that you’d wasted the spaghetti ingredients. You were reading in bed with Lola when your phone buzzed beside you.

Big family thing at Harlan’s on Saturday. We’ll be expected.

For some reason, it was the ‘we’ that caught you. It was the first time you’d realized you were a package deal now. If Ransom was invited somewhere, you would accompany him. And vice versa if you were ever invited anywhere. You couldn’t imagine it, with how small your world had gotten. 

The rest of his message caught up with you. His family. Linda had reached out multiple times since her awful visit. Every time you spoke to her, you got so small. You worried that prolonged exposure to her might cause you to completely disappear.

Aside from his parents, you’d barely interacted with the rest of his family at the wedding. It would be fine. You would be fine. You’d have to be. They were your family now too. You’d be seeing so much of them. For the rest of your life. You ignored how much your chest tightened at that thought.

Saturday came too soon.

Ransom paced around the bedroom while you both got ready. You’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t dressed. He just kept walking in and out of his closet. And looking at you. You didn’t know if you were doing something wrong. He didn’t say anything, he just couldn’t keep still. The one time you’d asked if he was alright, he’d barked back at you that he was fine, so you hadn’t asked again. 

Watching him pace around was making you even more anxious than you already were. So you focused all you could on getting yourself ready. You’d asked Ransom earlier if his family dressed for dinner and he’d just grunted in response. But it felt like a no, so you wore one of your favorite day dresses. It was your favorite color. You hoped it would give you confidence. You did your hair. You put diamond studs in your ears, with a matching tennis bracelet on your wrist. Reasonable heels on your feet. A spritz of perfume on your pulse points. It was the best you could do without more information.

You stood in the middle of the bedroom once you were done. Ransom was still undressed, still moving. “Uh,” you ventured, hesitantly, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Will we have enough time to get there?”

“Who gives a shit?” he growled, thundering back into his closet. A few moments later he came back out, wearing dress slacks and a cream cable-knit sweater. There were holes in it. You could see them clearly from the other side of the room. 

“Ransom,” you said softly, oddly feeling like you were speaking to a spooked animal, “don’t you think that sweater’s a little worn?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasped. “Let’s go.” Then he was out of the room and halfway down the stairs, with you scrambling to keep up behind him. 

The drive to Harlan’s country estate was mostly silent. You’d tried to turn on the radio at one point, but Ransom just turned it right back off. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his hands were bright red. You wondered if he was hurting himself. You didn’t know why he was so stressed. You were the one about to walk into the lion’s den, the one who had no idea what was waiting for you. It was his family. He’d be fine. You had no idea if you would be. You rested your hands in your lap, clutching them, and settled into the silence.

You knew that Harlan lived quite a ways out of town, but you still got to his home much too quickly. The large mansion loomed over you as Ransom parked his car amongst the others in the drive. He turned off the ignition and then just sat there, staring ahead. Just as you were about to call his name, he slapped the steering wheel harshly with one hand then growled “Let’s go!” to you and got out of the car. Once again, you scrambled after him, but this time, he slowed, slightly, to let you catch up. Once you had, he put a firm hand on the small of your back and ushered you up the path and into the house. You didn’t have time to react to that or try to figure out what on earth he was doing before you were greeted by a woman Ransom snidely called Franny. She responded with a very curt “Hugh” of her own then introduced herself to you as the housekeeper. She took your coats, and then Ransom’s hand was back on you, guiding you into a sitting room.

The entire family was already there, most with drinks in hand, and they all turned to watch you enter. You felt pinned by their gazes. “Well!” Ransom’s uncle Walt called out. “Look who finally decided to show. And just in time for the food, of course!” 

Ransom stiffened slightly beside you then smirked. “Well, thank god we’re in time for your fifth drink, Walt. Who’d want to miss that?”

Walt scowled as he got up from his seat, then lumbered across the room, knocking his shoulder into Ransom’s as he passed and jostling you in the process. You started to sway a little, and Ransom’s hand immediately came to your hip to try to steady you. Your gaze flitted down to it, but just as quickly it was gone.

Everyone else began to get up and make their way out of the room. Meg, at least, gave you a small smile and wave, but otherwise, you were mostly ignored. That was, at least, until there were only three people left, Ransom’s parents and Harlan. 

Harlan immediately hugged you. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. You look so lovely.” He took a step back to look at you both. “I trust you’re taking good care of each other. This is one of the most important times in your marriage. I hope you’re cherishing it.” 

“Sure Grandad,” Ransom snarked, “we’re loving being married to a complete stranger.”

“Ah, now, you’ll only remain strangers if you let that happen.”

You saw Ransom about to open his mouth to say something else, so you jumped in with a quiet, “Thank you, Harlan, we really appreciate that.”

Harlan smiled at you, big and genuine, and then clapped Ransom on the shoulder. “See, my boy,” he said. “I knew she was exactly what you needed!” 

Ransom’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond either. Harlan’s kindness had a way of making you feel invisible. 

Linda stepped up to you all then. “Darling,” she said, her tone dripping friendliness in a way that made you brace for impact. “I see not even your positive influence can make my son be on time. How disappointing.” She added a little chuckle onto the end, but you took it as the reprimand it was meant to be. You pasted on your most benign smile, but as always, she made you feel about a foot tall. You had no idea how anyone thought you were supposed to make this man do anything. Like he cared about what you thought or wanted. Like you had any power at all. 

“Is that why you married me off, mother?” Ransom asked, matching her friendly tone, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were hard. “So there’d be someone to handle me?”

“Well,” she said, a placid smile on her face to match your own, “someone has to. Lord knows you haven’t listened to me in years.”

“And yet,” Ransom said, his tone dropping all friendliness, “you still got me here, didn’t you?” 

The look on his face startled you. You’d never seen him this angry. Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. At your touch, his eyes snapped to yours. You weren’t sure exactly what he found there, you felt lost enough that you couldn’t imagine your expression was much help, but after staring at you for what felt like an age, he gave you the smallest nod and relaxed his posture. 

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” Harlan called from the doorway.

Linda straightened, finally ending the standoff with her son. “Yes, of course,” she said. Then she looked at you, really looked, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking in all of you and everything you were wearing. She quirked her eyebrow at you and let out a distinctly judgemental little hum. Then that friendly smile was back and she turned away from you. “Oh, Dad, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said as they both left the room.

You stared after her. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong. You’d looked at everyone when you’d arrived and confirmed that you weren’t under or overdressed. She herself was wearing a simple but smart pantsuit. Your clothes were nice, clean, and pressed. You were put together. What could her problem possibly be? You tried to breathe but you could still feel her looking at you and your chest was so tight.

You were brought back to the present by Richard wrapping you in a hug. His lips brushed your cheek as he said, “So nice to see you again, honey.” Then one of his hands on your back traveled lower until it grazed the top of your ass. You couldn’t help the way you jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Ransom shouted next to you. “I’m standing right here!”

Richard pulled away and you took a deep breath at being free of him. What the hell had just happened?

“What?” Richard rounded on his son. “I can’t greet my daughter-in-law? You’re so sensitive, Ransom. A little attention is flattering, isn’t it, honey?” 

They were both staring at you. You knew you needed to say something but all you could do in your shock was gape at them. 

Ransom wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you close to him. “You’re a fucking creep,” he growled.

Richard just scowled and made his way to the hall. “Disrepectful little shit,” he muttered as he left the room.

It wasn’t until his father was completely gone that Ransom dropped his arm from around you. He looked you right in the eye, his face so serious, as he asked, “Are you ok?” And there was something in his tone, fear maybe, that startled you just as much as Richard’s hand.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, your voice shaking only the slightest bit. When he still didn’t release you from his gaze, you brushed your fingers over his arm. “I’m alright.”

Finally, he nodded but didn’t really relax. “He’s–” he began, but cut himself off. “Just, watch out for him.”

“Ok,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reassuring. Ransom still just stood there. “Are– are you alright?” 

That seemed to bring him out of wherever he’d been. “What?” he asked, somewhat sharply. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, turning to the doorway. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Everyone else was already seated at the large dining room table when you came in. Ransom guided you over to the two empty chairs in the middle of one side and pulled yours out for you before seating himself. The catering staff moved around the table setting down plates and pouring wine for everyone. But when the server got to you, they moved past you without pouring anything. In case you were pregnant. Of course. That was fine. You just hoped no one else noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Ransom said from beside you and your stomach dropped. “Is there a reason my wife isn’t being served wine tonight?” 

“Ransom,” you whispered, still hoping everyone would just ignore it, but it was too late.

From the other side of the table, Walt piped up liked he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. “Maybe the staff got confused and didn’t realize she’s old enough to drink.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned, proud of himself, as it took every muscle in your body not to shrink down in your seat. 

“Great catch, Walt! You’re right. She is still much younger than me. Like I said before, and I’m sure I’ll have to say again, neither of us chose this. I would’ve thought that’d be a concept you’re familiar with, seeing as how you practically begged Harlan not to make you marry Donna.”

“Ransom!” you admonished quietly. Your eyes cut to the willowy blonde sitting next to Walt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You had no doubt that he deserved this, but you had no idea if she did. 

Ransom’s eyes cut to you. “You’re right,” he said, before looking back at his aunt and uncle. “I should be nicer to Donna. I’m sure being married to Walt is punishment enough.”

“You little shit!” Walt responded. “I’ll have you know my wife is very happy. Which I’m sure is more than you can say for yours! What’s it been, a month? Two? And she already looks completely miserable.” 

You felt all eyes turn to you again and you weren’t sure you’d ever felt more self-conscious in your life. Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t say anything, so you picked up your fork and took a bite of the fish you’d just been served. It didn’t taste like anything.

From your left, Joanie spoke up. “Hey, those first few months of marriage are hard. But so rewarding. I know when Neal and I were first married–”

“Yes, Joanie,” Linda cut in, dryly. “My brother was a saint and we all miss him very much.” She turned back to her son. “There’s no need to get upset, Ransom. We just didn’t want to accidentally serve a pregnant woman alcohol. Better safe than sorry.” She picked up her own fork to begin eating. “Speaking of, if the two of you have an announcement to make, now’d be the perfect time.”

You couldn’t stop your grimace. Ransom stiffened next to you, then answered, “No. No announcement.”

“It’ll come,” Harlan finally joined in from his place at the head of the table. “There’s still plenty of time.”

From the other end of the table, a teenage boy you’d never even met before said, “Maybe not. Maybe she’s barren.” And you felt all the wind go out of you.

“Oh fuck off, you little incel shit!” Ransom shouted.

“She isn’t barren, Jacob,” Linda said, calmly. “We have all her medical records to confirm she’s perfectly fertile.”

You could’ve sworn you blacked out at the moment. You’d known, on some level, that if there was a clause in the contract, it’d come with some sort of confirmation that, at least on your side, it was even possible. But to know that they had your medical records and now were discussing them like you weren’t even here, like you just didn’t matter… You hoped the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You felt a gentle hand land on your knee but it didn’t really register. Nothing did. You didn’t know where the conversation went from there. You couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears. It was all you could do to keep breathing. But you knew they all kept sniping at each other. And you felt the anger radiating off of Ransom the entire time. 

The clinking of plates and scraping of chairs finally got you out of your stupor as the family got out of their chairs and staff started clearing the dishes. You looked over at Ransom, for help or support maybe, you didn’t really know. But he also looked like he’d gone somewhere else. He could barely meet your gaze.

You were still numb as people made their way back to the original sitting room. You just needed to make it through the rest of the evening. You could do that. Just as you had gotten to the other room, Harlan stopped Ransom with a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like a word in private with you, my boy.”

Ransom looked at you for a moment, then sighed and said softly, “I’ll be right back,” before following his grandfather deeper into the house.

And then you were alone. You were at a loss as to what to do with yourself, so you went back into the sitting room and settled on a vacant couch. Not everyone had migrated there.  There were only a few people in the room now. Jacob sat in the corner, hunched over his phone, but every once in a while he would look up, catch your eye, and smirk at you. It had you sliding further back in your seat. His mother was no help. Donna was slumped over in an armchair, still cradling half a glass of wine. Meg had already shrugged on her coat, giving a hurried wave as she moved through the room. And Richard–

Richard sat down next to you. You slid down the couch as subtly as you could. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Alarm bells went off through your whole body. You saw Ransom’s face again, from earlier. How angry, yes, but more than that ashamed and unsurprised. How he’d looked at you. How he’d asked if you were ok. How it’d felt urgent. “It was a busy day,” you gritted out, trying to think of any way to get yourself out of this room.

“Ransom is a very lucky man,” he said, inching closer, his arm draped over the back of the couch, “to have such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “That’s very sweet.” You looked around helplessly. As he opened his mouth to say something else, you stood up. “I’m going to go get myself some water. Do you need anything?” you asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No? Ok, I’ll be right back.” And then you fled.

You hurried down the hall toward the kitchen but slowed when you heard voices. You picked out Joanie first, then Linda. You slowed to a stop right outside the kitchen door, trying to weigh just how much you wanted that water. Was it worth facing them? Were they any better than Richard?

“Okay,” Joanie said, “but what do you really think about her?” Your stomach dropped. You tried to reassure yourself that they could be talking about anything, anyone. You pressed closer to the door as quietly as you could.

“I think,” Linda said, then paused while you heard the clink of glassware, “that she will serve her purpose just fine.”

Joanie laughed. “I just have a hard time picturing Ransom with such a mouse.” You closed your eyes. You should go right now. Nothing they had to say would be of any help to you. But, despite your best interests, you were rooted to the spot.

“She definitely wasn’t chosen for her personality, but Ransom understands how good this will be for the whole family. How important it is”

“Oh, of course,” Joanie simpered, and you just hated both of these women so much at that moment, maybe more than you’d ever hated anyone. “I just feel so bad for him. He must be so bored.”

“Listen, I told him that he just needs to get her pregnant, and then he can do whatever he needs to do. Once he has an heir. As long as he’s discreet, of course.”  

Joanie cackled. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re so bad!”

“He might already be behind on that one, anyway,” Linda said, and you could practically hear her smirk. But you didn’t know what she could possibly be talking about. She didn’t know you and there was no one– unless. Oh god.

“Well.” Linda continued. “You know, she and her step-brother are very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Joanie asked, fucking eagerly.

“Mhmm,” Linda hummed. “Did you not see them at the wedding? They were practically hanging all over each other. He had to be kicked out of her dressing room.”

“No! Does Ransom know?”

“Well, I haven’t told him yet. You know how he gets. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You know what they call that on the internet, don’t you?”

Linda sighed. “You know that I don’t, Joanie.”

“Stepcest!” Joanie said gleefully.

And that was it. That was all you could do. This fucking family. How– Why? You’d never done anything. You hadn’t even chosen to be here! And they still took so much joy in cutting you down. And if Linda managed to get to Ransom and tell him… Who knows what he’d do?

You moved as quietly as you could back down the hall, swiping at the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, hoping not to call any attention to yourself, when shouts suddenly erupted from the other side of the house. As soon as you recognized one of the raised voices as Ransom’s, you began to hurry in that direction. 

You hadn’t made it very far before he came barreling out in your direction. “Get your coat,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue, more than ready to get out of there yourself. You followed him to the closet, and then once you both had your coats, out the door. The crisp night air was bracing after feeling suffocated in that house for hours. Neither of you said anything as you got into Ransom’s car.

It wasn’t until you were fully off Harlan’s property that you felt brave enough to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Sure,” he said.

“What– What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Just his same old bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I–” you had no idea what to say. “Is it always like that?” You felt foolish as soon as you asked. Of course, it was. You could tell.

“Oh, no,” he said, and his tone was so cold, so detached, that you couldn’t help but stare. This felt like a brand new Ransom. “Sometimes it’s really bad.”

You didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea what to do with this sudden urge to comfort him, this man who had so much power over you, this man you couldn’t even say you liked most days. Especially after what you’d just been through. So you kept your hands in your lap and stared out the window.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprised you by being the one to break it. “So. I bet your family looks like the fucking Waltons compared to that.”

You thought of dinner with your own family. Joseph crowing loudly about his successes. Your mother cowering the moment any small thing went wrong. Steve getting into screaming matches with his father. You feeling invisible, on a good day. “No,” you said, hollowly. “Not really.” He turned his head sharply to look at you and you held his gaze for just a moment before he had to look back at the road. There was one large difference though. You’d always had Steve. As far as you could tell, Ransom didn’t have anyone.

That thought led you back to what you’d heard right before you’d left and your anxiety returned. “Steve and I–” you blurted out. “He’s my brother.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I am aware of that.”

You shook your head. “No, I just– I know we aren’t related biologically, but– Nothing’s ever happened between us. Not ever. He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck?!” he called out as he made a left turn more sharply than necessary. “Why would you–” he cut himself off. “Did someone say something to you?”

You ignored his question. “I just–” you said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the drive.

When you got back to his house, Ransom went straight upstairs while you let Lola out one last time before bed. When you joined him in the bedroom once that was done, he was already in bed. “Listen,” he said softly, “I know you’re probably even more anxious about this whole thing after– I just, I’m really fucking tired. Is it ok if we don’t– If we just go to bed?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. You were just as tired and didn’t think you could deal with all that after everything else that had happened that day. You quickly went through your nighttime routine in the bathroom. When you came back out once you’d finished, you found Ransom still awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Lola was curled up at his side and he absently scratched her belly. You climbed into bed and turned the lamp off, turning onto your side. You felt him move behind you, scooting closer, not enough that you were touching at all, but you could feel his body heat. It was oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come fast, ready for this day to be over.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #fanfiction #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #reader insert #arranged marriage au #heavy angst #more than this #kris wrote something

[grandline-fics]

Hi hi! I wanted for so long request for crocodile but I wasn’t sure at all if you wrote for him! Thankfully you made a fic with him so I have confirmation now ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

What about a fic with crocodile of course with a reader who’s smart but very dumb about love and don’t get all the hints he gave to her. Like he tries to seduce her and she’s too innocent stupid for take the hints? Like he takes her to diner and else and she still saw him as a good friend? Or partner of crime. Either at the end she falls for him or either crocodile falls in friendzone as you want, up to you 🙌

DESCRIPTION: You’re completely oblivious to the obvious

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Crocodile

WORDS: 954

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope you like what I was finally able to come up with for this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

Crocodile had no time for stupidity or anything that could be considered a case of his time and you were certainly worthy of his attention and notice. You were an individual who caught his eye the second you walked into the Cross Guild headquarters, introduced to him and Buggy by Mihawk as the newest recruit. He’d heard your name before, having gathered a stellar reputation on the Grand Line as a skilled individual but until now he’d never had the pleasure of putting the face to the name. You’d greeted him and the Clown respectfully enough but from the way you held yourself and stood so relaxed it was clear counted yourself as an equal with them and not a subordinate. Ordinarily that kind of attitude would have left him irked but given your reputation and knowing how valuable having someone of your skillset was he allowed it without any comment. 

Over time you secured your place with Cross Guild seamlessly and swiftly bolstered the entire operation’s reputation just as Mihawk knew you would, something he would smugly bring up during petty disagreements between himself and the other group founders. The more time you spent with him, the more Crocodile found himself certain that he needed to pursue romantically. You were shrewd, powerful, could match him easily with your wit and tastes. The only problem was that in his pursuit you had yet to catch his less than subtle hints. As smart as you were, in terms of romance you seemed utterly clueless. 

During the conversations you’d shared he’d come to know a lot about you and obviously he used that information to his advantage. The second he knew about something you liked, he was using his resources to acquire it all to gift you. Seeing your eyes light up when presented with the items no matter how big or small, even if it was something that had no immense cost to him was definitely the highlight of his day. You would always thank him and cherish the gift, still unaware of what you’d possibly done to deserve more kindness from the man. On the recent occasion you were presented with another amazing gift you looked up at him with a bright smile. “You really didn’t have to, on my next mission I’m going to get something better than this to make it up to you.”

“Not necessary.” Crocodile had insisted, the calm smirk still on his face as he watched you playfully scowl at him. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this exchange with him and as always he’d follow it up with an offer. “Have dinner with me tonight and we’ll consider the matter settled.” 

As always you smiled and accepted his offer, but like always you merely seemed to view it as a meal between friends and nothing more. However that afternoon your eyes were finally opened to the reality of the situation when you were showing Mihawk your newest gift. 

“Honestly the two of you are exhausting.” He sighed making you look at him in confusion. “Okay, you’re more confusing than he is. Honestly the man has more patience than I do to let you be this dense.”

“Did Buggy break a bottle of your favourite wine or something?” You asked dryly. “You’re less pleasant today.”

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why Crocodile gives you so many gifts, requests you join him to lavish places when he goes on his own missions, asks you to dinner, and talks to you everyday?” Mihawk asked, his intense golden eyes fixed on your face as he listed all Crocodile’s actions around you. Infuriatingly you merely laughed and shrugged your shoulders. 

“Because he’s nice.” You explained simply. “You know him, Mihawk, that’s just how he is. You founded this whole enterprise with him. He likes to give gifts and is friendly. What else is there to say?”

“Nice? Friendly?” Mihawk repeated, slowly blinking at how bad this was. “Want to know how many times I’ve spoken to Crocodile this month? Twice. You’re the only one who he treats this way because he likes you deeply.” 

You held back the urge to laugh as the revelation threw you off. Part of you wanted to dismiss Mihawk’s claim as ridiculous but now that it was pointed out to you, you thought over everything. Finally you saw it, just as Mihawk had said, Crocodile only treated you this way. Now you began to see why others gave you a strange look when you talked about him so positively and it also explained why the mention of the man brought a look of fear to their eyes. “Oh…”

That evening when Crocodile went to fetch you to take you to the restaurant he’d chosen for your meal he was surprised to see your appearance was different. You always looked amazing but this evening your features and body were even more emphasised. “What’s the occasion?” he asked smoothly as his gaze moved appreciatively over your form.

“Well I thought I’d finally make more of an effort for you.” You explained with a smile, looking at him with a deeper stare that Crocodile hadn’t seen before. “I thought this would be the best way to make it clear to others that we’re dining on a date and not just as friends. You don’t mind do you?”

“Not at all.” Crocodile’s signature smirk grew into a satisfied grin as he slipped his hand around your waist and began to walk with you out of headquarters for all the others to see. From his spot on the balcony Mihawk’s expression grew smug. This was most definitely another thing he was going to take credit for at any given opportunity. 

-----------------------------------------------

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#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #crocodile x you #crocodile x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece scenario #one piece fic #sir crocodile one piece #crocodile one piece #op crocodile #one piece crocodile #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x you

[angelofsmalldeaath]

first light — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of bad mental health

“there you are,” i lean against the doorframe, watching him manoeuvre in the darkness. it’s barely past four, barely even light out, and yet there he is, fumbling around the kitchen. 

“shit, did i wake you?” he whispers even though he doesn’t need to, and goes back to what he was doing. 

when i squint my eyes a little i realise he’s gathering supplies for coffee. 

“it’s four…”

he nods, his back to me. 

“in the morning…”

another nod. i push myself off the doorframe and walk up to him. 

his hair is sleep-mussed, his t-shirt more wrinkled than usual, like he's been tossing and turning. i wrap my arms around him and kiss his back. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

he shrugs, i feel the muscles of his back move against my cheek. “‘s dark, love, won’t be able to see you anyway.”

i poke him in the ribs, finally eliciting a response. “we have electricity, you know?”

he sighs, deflates more like it, and finally turns, still in my arms, except now my chin rests on his chest as opposed to his back. i look up, trying to make out his features in the twilight. 

“there,” he pauses, makes it a point to stare right into my eyes, “i’m looking at you now.”

i can make out the vague shape of his face. even as my eyes adjust, and i see the one small curl dropping on his forehead, it’s hard to see the rest of him, hard to see the precise green of his eyes or the russet of his beard. 

“can i turn on the lights, please?”

“no, dont!” he wraps his hand around my wrist, gentle but firm. “this feels better.”

i’m about to say something when the kettle comes to a boil. he turns again and i try not to let him go from my arms but he moves anyway. ultimately, i drop them, letting them hang awkwardly at my sides. 

“coffee?”

“do you not plan on going back to bed?”

“not really, no.”

like always he puts two teaspoons of coffee in the french press, pours the hot water on top. i watch him, still turned away from me, silent, thinking. not entirely there. 

“did you ever go to bed?”

“of course i did, darling,” he laughs airily, “i was right next to you all night.”

“that’s not how i mean it and you know it.” the sternness in my voice surprises us both. still, he doesn’t turn. his shoulders sag, his head bows low, and in the dim light, i see a slight shudder pass through him. 

“i couldn’t…”

“bad dreams?”

“bad dreams?!” he laughs bitterly, “what am i, five?”

worry gnaws at my insides, and i hesitate, wondering how much to push. it’s he who first breaks the silence. “just…thoughts. not bad but not…not very nice ones.”

he clears his throat and goes through all the practiced motions—presses the french press down gently, takes out two mugs, his a plain black, mine littered with hand-painted daisies from one of our date nights. somehow in the darkness he manages not to spill a single drop. instead he lingers, takes a second to himself before he turns and offers my mug to me.

“thanks,” i wrap my hand around it and savour the warmth for just the fraction of a second. “can we sit?”

“i really don’t want to move.”

“right…” i walk up to him, standing side by side until our arms touch, and sit, right there on the kitchen floor with my back against the dishwasher. i have to crane my neck a lot to finally look at him wordlessly, he sits too, moves closer to me until our thighs touch and our arms press against each other. 

he still seems so far away. 

gently i intertwine my fingers with his, tracing the pads of his fingers and the light dusting of hair on his knuckles. “should we talk or would you rather sit in silence?”

“a bit heavy to have this chat at the crack of dawn, don’t you think?”

“i don’t mind it if you don’t,” i take a sip of my coffee and cringe at the lack of sugar. right. it’s black. 

my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed though. for the first time that day, he laughs. no that’s not it, he snorts, like he’s teasing me. “i forgot to put in your million sugars.”

“it’s two!” i protest, “and a splash of milk, it’s nothing outrageous!” but the smile on his face lingers just another moment and a smidge of weight lifts off my chest. 

“things must be…abysmal,” i nudge his knee with mine, “if you forgot how i take my coffee.”

for a while he’s silent, watching as the sky lightens—from dark blue to purple to a smidge of pink and orange. it’s not fully light out yet, but i suspect it won’t be long now. 

“a little,” he admits quietly, like it’s a secret he’s only just revealing. “i’ve been trying to hide it from you. a bit shitty of me, really, i’d be upset if you hid something like this from me. if you were struggling,” he swallows, “mentally. and i didn’t know about it. wasn’t there to help you…”

i bring his hand to my mouth, kiss his palm. “it is…upsetting,” i admit, “but i’d like to know now. or–or whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to talk.”

he sighs deeply, rests his head on top of mine. “maybe when it’s not five in the morning.”

i smile when i hear the laugh in his voice, stare at our intertwined hands and how well they fit together.

“how d’you know it’s five?”

“the sun’s up,” he points towards the window with his mug, and i see it there—the sky, no longer purple with a hint of pink. within a few seconds it seems to have erupted with colours; yellow and orange and red and pink and gold. 

a small ray of sunshine even wanders into our kitchen. 

i look at him, finally visible to me in the first light of the morning. then i kiss his temple and he smiles. it’s a small, tentative thing, but it’s there and it’s real and it stays. 

“there you are,” i whisper, failing to contain a smile of my own. 

“there i am,” he whispers, finally turns to look at me. for a moment his gaze lingers on my lips and i take that as my cue to press my lips against his—mine chapped and dry, his tasting like coffee.

“i think it will be a…decent day,” he declares and sets his empty mug aside. “can we go to bed now?”

“you’d like that?”

“yeah…” he gently touches my cheek with his knuckle and i lean into his touch, closing my eyes briefly. when i open them, he’s staring at me, letting his eyes roam all over my face. “i think i’d love that.”

#no i checked the time of sunrise in ireland (5:09 am) for this one it's that serious 💀 #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier fluff #andrew hozier byrne x reader #first light #Spotify