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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

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Carrying it all on your shoulders (Daniel Ricciardo)

Juggling two kids without Daniel proved to be harder than you thought

Note: english is not my first language. I don't get requests for Daniel that often, and dad!Daniel is very fun and cute to write!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem associated with motherhood and parenting, exhaustion, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do it? I'll do it no problem", your colleague assured you, "even one of the interns can do it, Y/N! Seriously, go home earlier!", she offered.

"I can do it", you added, crossing over the task you had completed on your post it note and writing two more down, "Sophia just started her ballet class and Alice's nursery had a pantomime today so they're keeping the kids for a little longer", you winked at her, gathering the documents and getting ready to complete the task.

Lately, this was your routine. Drop the girls at school and nursery, head up to work, pick the girls up and drive home before homework, playtime, dinner time and then the bedtime routine. When Daniel was still home, it was usually him doing the school and nursery runs so it wasn't like it added a lot to your routine, but it requires more juggling than you initially thought.

By the time you finished the tasks, you were the only one left, shutting down your laptop and closing all of the doors once you had your belongings all packed into your bag, finally calling it a day and heading to your car.

Picking a very sleepy Alice from nursery and then a pouty Sophia from her ballet class, you tried your best to not bother the youngest one, "how was your class today, princess?", you wondered once you stopped at a red light, turning around slightly so you could look at your daughter's face.

"It was okay", she stated, remaining unusually quiet all the way back home as she looked outside the window.

"I'm going to put Alice down for a little nap and then I'll go and help you with your homework, okay?", you said to Sophia as she set her backpack down near her desk, "I don't have any today", she said, closing the door behind her as you walked to Alice's room, laying her down on the mattress and kissing the top of her head, feeling it warmer than usual.

"Oh, babygirl", you cooed, grabbing the thermometer from the medicine cubby and putting it on her ear, silently hoping it was just you.

A minute later, the result showed she was beggining to develop a fever. Sighing, you stored the thermometer in its box and got the medicine from your bathroom, grabbing the syringe to put it in her mouth when you managed to waker her up without a big fuss.

"I know you don't want this, baby", you cooed as Alice stirred in her sleep, big brown eyes looking up at you with tears welling up on them, "take this for mummy, okay?", you pleaded, "you'll feel better, my love", you said, holding her on your arms so she could fall asleep again.

The tiredness came over you pretty quickly, making you sit on the rocking chair, closing your eyes for a little bit and taking a deep breath. Because she was your second child, you didn't feel like the first time Sophia got sick. While in the first time, you ran around like a headless chicken, ready to bring her to the emergency room and messaging her pediatrician until both your parents' and Daniel's parents assured you and your husband you were doing just fine. So far, she didn't seem to bothered by it, just sleep, so you allowed yourself the moment to rest with her, rubbing her back and showering her with kisses and a good cuddle.

"Mummy?", Sophia asked, knocking on the door of her sister's room to announce she was coming in, "what are we having for dinner?", she asked, taking in the sight of you and her sister.

"Oh", you noted, not having given it much thought until that moment, "we can have spaghetti bolognese, I'll just have to boil some pasta - I think we still have some of those heart shapes pastas daddy brought home the other day -, or we could have some chicken nuggets and rice if you prefer that", you offered, thinking of the meal plan meals you had in the fridge as you didn't feel like cooking everything from scratch tonight.

"The spaghetti bolognese is fine", she whispered, coming closer to you and kissing her sister's hand, "is Alice sick?", she questioned.

"She has a bit of a fever, it's probably something she picked up from in nursery, you used to get these every now and again, too", you explained, brushing the curls away from her eyes, "she'll be fine though. Are you feeling okay, beautiful girl?", you checked with her, wanting to be prepared in case both kids came down with this bug.

"I feel fine", she assured you, kissing your cheek before she saw you get up and grabbing the sling, wrapping her sister against you, "do you want to help me with the pasta then?", you smiled, stretching your hand so she could grab it and you both could head to the kitchen.

"I'll set the plates", Sophias offered, making you kiss the top of her head as a thank you and going back to stirring the pasta while the sauce warmed up in another pot.

You ate the food in a quieter environment that usual, and while the reasonable voice in your head told you that it was due to the fact that everyone was a little tired, the snarky and mean one made you feel guilty.

As you washed up the pots and plates from dinner while Sophia spent some time watching cartoons on TV, your mind took you to the mom guilt feelings, rewinding back to all of the times in the last two weeks where you didn't spend time with either of them separately, all of the times where you had to rush to get out of the house all in one piece and all of the things you weren't doing well.

"Soph", you called, "I'm going upstairs to put Alice down, is there anything I can do for you before I go?", you wondered.

"Can I have your phone so I speak to daddy, please?", she asked, "he hasn't called today", she reasoned, "take it from my pocket, bub", you said, tuning your back to her slightly so she could retrieve the device from the denim material, "call me if you need anything, okay?", you checked with her, "okay, mummy! Night night, Alice, I love you", she waved at her sister who blew her a sloppy kiss.

Sitting down on the sofa, Sophia pressed Daniel's contact, smiling at the love heart on the contact despite having seen it many times before, "hey!", Daniel said, a little surprised to see the little girl's face instead of yours.

"Hi daddy!", she smiled, "mummy is putting Alice to sleep so I thought I'd talk to you for a bit", she said, "I have something to tell you".

"Oh, okay, tell me then", Daniel concerned, sensing that what your daughter wanted to tell him was something troubling her.

"I'm confused", she began, "do you remember that book you and mummy read to me and Alice? The one with the monster who is now doctor?", she tried as Daniel nodded.

Anna Llenas was one of your favourite authors for kids' stories and you always read them to your family. The way they spoke about their emotions and how to deal with them became a great tool to get them to talk openly about how they felt and Sophia seemed to be getting it.

"Yes, baby, what about it?", Daniel asked.

"I feel confused, because today I didn't really want to go to the ballet practice but I did it anyway", she said, "so I was really quiet and my friends noticed it, the teacher, too. And mummy, I think she's upset with me, too", she admitted.

"Well, do you remember what the turtle nurse did in the book?", Daniel questioned, "she had her first aid box full of things that make her heart feell warm and good", Sophia mumbled, "go and get it then, princess", Daniel urged.

Sophia pulled the box from under the sofa. The premise of the activity on the book as simple: the kids had to make a box full of things that helped them regulate their emotions and feelings when they felt confused, sad or anxious. While Alice was still too little to make one, Sophia loved the arts and crafts aspect of it and spent the whole afternoon with Daniel making her perfect first aid kit.

"Do you remember what we do with the bee drawing?", Daniel guided, "we take a big breath in, and then a big breath out", he exemplified, doing it three more times with her before speaking up again, "do you feel better?".

"I do, daddy", she said, fishing out something out of the box, "this is the pillow we made with mummy, she sewed it with my favourite soft fabrics", she smiled at the memory, rubbing it on her cheek, "and a picture of us, look!", she showed Daniel the frame with the picture of the first race Alice attended, the four of you in front of the motorhome with big smiles.

"That's right baby, we can also dance it out a little if you want", Daniel offered but she shook her head, showing him the empty bottle of medicine, "this is the 'No medicine', right?", she checked with him. The bottle was of course empty, but the idea was there.

"That's right! Sometimes we have to say no when we don't want to do some things", Daniel advised, remembering the story well enough without having the actual book in front of him, "to adults, we have to be more careful because there are things that we can't run from, but for your ballet classes, for example, you can say you don't want to go if you don't want to, sweetie", he told her earnestly.

"Okay daddy", she whispered, taking another deep breath with her finger following the wavy bee line on the drawing.

"Promise you'll tell me or mummy whenever that happens?", he asked, "I promise, daddy", she smiled, seeming calmer and happier now.

"That's great, Soph. I'm very proud of you for telling me that", he complimented, "Can I ask you about mummy, princess? Is she still upstairs?", he checked with her, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her anymore.

"Yes, daddy", Sophia smiled before pouting, "she's a little tired, and yesterday I think she was crying. I know I wasn't supposed to be up, but I forgot Snuggles by the door", she explained, mentioning her stuffed teddy that she loved to sleep with, "and when I went to pick it up, I heard mummy sniffling, she was doing it quietly but I heard it still", she told him.

Your daughter confirmed his suspicions. Before he left, you spoke about how you were going to handle two kids and your job, and while at the time it seemed good, the practical side of the conversation looked to be otherwise. He called everyday and he noticed you looking more tired each day, but he justified it on the adjustment. Eventually, there would be a day that you finally adapted to the routine, but that was wishful thinking.

"Soph, are you still on the phone with daddy?", you called from the corridor, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb Alice in the sleep you worked so hard in getting her to.

"Hey, gorgeous", Daniel said as you appeared on the screen as Sophia handed you your phone back, "I'm going to get ready for bed, mummy, I'll wait for you when you can read my bedtime story", she smiled, kissing you cheek and saying goodbye to Daniel.

"How was your day?", he asked, "busy busy, but it's over now. Things are going at full speed. Sophia was a bit quieter when she arrived, but she seemed better - no need to rub it in that she's a daddy's girl -, and Alice has caught the bug that has been going around", you shrugged your shoulders, "her temperature is slowly cooling down, and other than that, she's fine", you sighed, "and yours?".

Daniel told you about his meetings, not wanting to pester you too much as he could sense the tiredness you felt, "I'll let you go rest, though. Have a good night, gorgeous", he blew you a kiss before your face disappeared.

Opening his laptop, he looked for a flight that would make him arrive just in time for school pick up, "I can't stay for the rest of the week", Daniel said to the members of the team on the meeting room, "Y/N and the girls need me back home, so if that's okay with you, we'll do these remotely", he half stated, looking for any signs of discontentment or disagreement.

As soon as he got the green light, he couldn't wait to finish that sponsorship content meeting, filming everything he needed to as quickly as possible before bidding goodbye to everyone, going back to the hotel room and pack everything up so he could go to the airport. A long flight away from his wife and kids and all would be well.

Alice didn't sleep all that well, and in turn neither did you, so you called in to work to let them know that you would be working from home as best as you could since your little girl was staying home for the day. Sophia seemed well that morning when you dropped her off at school, soothing your heart from the worries that had plagued you.

"It's me and you, baby girl", you said, kissing the top of her head as she slept on the sling, her fist grasping the fabric of your cardigan as you walked around the house, hoping to really settle her when you heard a car outside.

"Why does that look like daddy?", you mumbled out loud as if Alice could give you her opinion, focusing on the man walking up to the front door and giving you enough time to open it.

"Before you say anything, I had to do it and I won't go back", Daniel raised his hands once he set his luggage inside, closing the door behind him and kissing the top of your head and then Alice's as you stood there surprised.

"Danny, we didn't- I-", you tried, and as if your mouth wouldn't let you lie, the words didn't seem to come out of you.

"I came as soon as I could, and I should've come sooner", he said, "I want to be here for you as much as I can and I need to make sure my girls are okay - all three of them", he looked at you, "Soph told me she heard you crying", he stated as he got you to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"Another point for the greatest mother of the year award", you chastised yourself, taking a deep breath to level out your emotions.

"No, none of that", Daniel offered sternly, "you have been juggling everything on your own and it's harder that we originally thought it would be. I'm sorry it took me so long to come", he apoligised, hands undoing the sling so he could get Alice to rest against his chest instead.

"It's been a lot - and frankly, I haven't been very good at delegating at work", you chuckled, smiling at the delicious sight of a sleeping child on Daniel's chest.

"You also need the 'No medicine' Soph has in her box", he giggled despite the seriousness of the conversation, "I can see that you haven't slept all that much, so why don't you go and have a good sleep?", he suggested, "we'll talk a little bit more about this afterwards, but you need to rest first", he said, "I'll go and pick up Sophia, so you just stay here and take care of yourself, okay?", he said, tapping your butt playfully to get you to get up and head to your bedroom.

While you caught up on sleep, Daniel tidied the house as much as he could before picking up Sophia, who excitedly ran up to her father when she saw him and his sister on the parking lot, "Is mummy with you, too?", she wondered, "no, mummy is resting at home. We are going to get some food for dinner so we can all have a cosy night in, how does that sound?", he questioned, earning cheers from her and her sister who qas thankfully feeling much better, giggling in delight as she clapped her hands.

"Who's that? That's mummy, isn't she looking pretty today, Alice? Yes, she is!", Daniel said as you walked into the kitchen, Sophia's notebook open on the table as she wrote on it, "she didn't want to leave the kitchen and I wanted to make pancakes for their snacks, so we found a middle ground", your husband justified himself.

"It's okay", you smiled, kissing everyone's cheeks and tapping Alice's nose, "well, I'm glad you're feeling better, little miss", you said.

"Also, I'm in charge of dinner. I spoke to the people on your team - I'm their boss' husband so I sort of have some power too", he joked, "and they're going to delegate the work these next few days so you can stay home to rest and just work a teeny tiny little bit. I also plan on doing the school pick ups and cooking", he smiled, proud of his plans.

"I'm okay to help, too, Daniel, really", you tried, "no need for that, like I said! I'm going to take charge of the next few days, there's no reason why I can't and it's going to be great", he giggled, "we're in this together, darling, and there's no way you're carrying this all on your shoulders".

#daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #dad!driver

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urfavleo777 · 5 months

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warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says:

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

"It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n."

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client."

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him.

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings."

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice.

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him.

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

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tsimvkas · 8 months

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our life changing moment — mason mount

A/N: hi!! it’s the first time i post a imagine here :) english is not my first language so forgive me for any mistakes. i’d like to thank Sid, the first one to read this and encourage me to post 🥺 hope you all enjoy it! and please feel free to share your thoughts about it with me xx

lil note: i know mason’s number seven is probably bc of beck but i used cristiano just so the teasing would makes sense

word count: 5.7k | masterlist

content: pregnancy, fluff, mild angst, mention of sexual act

Your boyfriend stared at the pregnancy test, stroking your waist while the pair of you waited for the result. You were sitting on the bathroom sink and Mason was comfortable between your legs, your head resting at his shoulder.

You always watch these videos where the woman takes the test all by herself and then comes up with a surprise for the father. A box with baby clothes, a tiny shoe or even a cake with some written at the top. If the test shows that you are in fact pregnant, it would be nice telling Mase that way, but honestly? You were too scared to do it on your own.

“I’m probably ruining your chance to find this out in a cool way” you whispered, gulping.

“What do you mean babe? This is a nice way”

“I should surprise you with the tiniest sneaker in the world and a note. You shouldn’t be the one reading the result? It doesn’t feel right.

“You know Y/N, just because it isn't common in our society to see fathers participating that way it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. If you’re pregnant then it’s our child. What doesn’t feel right to me is you thinking I should wait for you to tell me instead of us both discovering together. What about you? You take the test all by yourself and then proceeds to figure out nice ways to tell everyone? And who surprises you?”

“Why you always have to be this cute?” you looked up at him feeling your eyes watering.

He is definitely the sweetest boy you have ever met. You both started dating four years ago, being introduced by a friend in common, Sophia, his mate’s girlfriend and your best friend.

Soph presented you both at a club, a Chelsea reunion that she invited you to.

“That’s my bestie, Y/N” she said to Mason, and he grinned, staring at your eyes. “And this is the guy I told you about, bug”

You remember that you wished you could disappear, and the way he smiled at you suggestively just made everything worse.

“What exactly you told her about me, Soph?” he chuckled, finally greeting you with a quick hug, his hand shameless resting on your waist.

You weren't surprised when later that night, at the comfort of your house, you received a flirting text even though he never asked for your number.

Saying yes to a date with him was inevitable. You were so attracted to him. His beauty, the brown hair that was almost on his eyes, the big nose and red lips. The silly jokes, the way he was always smiling at you and the warmth of his hands at your lower back, guiding you.

A first date became two dates, and then he kissed you on the third one.

You never forgot how that kiss felt. The way he was holding you made everything burn and you’re not proud to say that you were totally turned on with just a kiss. Yes, you could’ve ridden him at that moment and he obviously noted.

Since then, you saw all of his sides. Cute Mason, cocky Mason, angry Mason. And you fell in love with every single one of them.

Falling in love with Mason was the funniest and cutest thing that ever happened to you. It was slowly, peaceful. He always made you feel like the most important person in the world, just like he was doing right now.

“Nooo babe, don’t cry” Mason tried not to laugh, knowing how crazy your hormones have been. For him, you didn’t even needed that test.

“Have you seen the result already?” you questioned, trying to keep yourself calm. You always wanted a baby, and that’s something you and Mount had agreed since the beginning of the relationship.

Of course you would love to see a mini version of your boyfriend waking up the pair of you, or a little girl for Mason to be protective about, but right now a pregnancy wasn’t something you were thinking about, which means it was totally unplanned.

“Look at me” Mason said with a soft tone, stroking your chin. You obeyed, staring at his perfect eyes. The way they’re sparkling you didn’t even need an answer. “We’ll be fine, sunshine”

You felt your heart skip a beat. All you could think about was that this couldn’t be happening right now. There’s so many things you wanted to do before being a mom.

A guilty feeling was spreading all over your body. At the same time that you didn’t wanted this to happen right now, it was your baby. You couldn’t think such things about it.

But… it will grow inside of you. And there will be nausea. A lot of pain and messed up hormones. Cries for no reason, weird food combinations. Your body will triple in size. And then, one day, it will have to get out of your belly somehow. And none of the options calms you down.

“Y/N? You need to breathe, babe. Uhum, take a deep breath with me” Mason tried to help you, his fingers tracing circles in your back.

You followed his instructions, and minutes after the initial shock you felt fear.

“I’m not sure I can do this” you whispered in his shoulder, not brave enough to look him in the eyes. When your crying intensified, Mason brought a hand to your head and scratched your scalp gently.

“I can’t tell you what you can or cannot face, love. It’s your body going to change, and it’s not up to me to dictate what you can handle with. What I can tell is that I’ll be there to help you. And that I do believe that you can do this, yeah. In my opinion, you can do anything”

“Can I- I’m sorry, can I have a moment? Alone?”

“Of course you can” his voice was lower and calm and your mind kept saying that you didn’t deserve him.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to react like that and we should be hugging and celebrating but instead you’re comforting me-“

“Y/N, stop using other people's experience as a parameter. We’re not them, ok? You’re allowed to feel the way you’re feeling. It’s a baby, inside of you. It’s a big thing. I’ll clean here and make dinner, just let me know when I can join you again”

You nodded, feeling guilty. It was obvious you weren’t doing this the right way. The father of your kid was right in front of you after discovering he’ll be a dad and all you say to him is that you wanna be alone for a little bit. Sounds selfish.

You walk to your shared bedroom and lay down comfortably under the mattress. You know you will love this baby and have a beautiful family but right now you just need to cry yourself out, mourning the old you. The one without responsibilities over a child.

Mason cleaned the sink and went down to make dinner. He wasn’t mad about your reaction, because he saw it happen at his family once. After Summer, Jaz wasn’t totally ready to be a mom of two, and although the world expects a woman to always feel happy about conceiving a baby, he understands that is not that simple.

He couldn’t lie though — he felt happy. To be a father was reason enough, but to be the father of your children? He couldn’t wait for it.

The pair of you have been in a healthy and strong relationship over the past four years, you saw the worst of him during his last season at Chelsea, moved in with him to Manchester and supported him through the whole transfer situation. He thought that there wasn’t any way he could fell even more for you, but this was proved wrong when he saw the positive test earlier.

Mason was always aware of his own privileges and that’s why he respected the way you felt about being pregnant. While your entire life is about to change, his could still be the same, only with a little addition.

But he is not that kind of man, and if your life is going to change then his life it’s going to change as well.

An hour later, you felt like you had already cried all the water in your body. Missing your man but without energy enough to scream for him, you texted Mase.

When he got upstairs, Mason entered the bedroom slowly. He put the bowl with strawberries on the desk before laying down beside you, his arms reaching your waist.

“Daughter, uh? You’re feeling better?” his voice was soft and he peppered kisses on your shoulder, smiling when you melted against him.

“Yeah” you nodded, “I just needed a second. I’m sorry boo”

“Don’t be. You know that- if you don’t feel ready, you don’t have to go with it. I would never force you into this. Even tho I’m going to do everything I’m capable of, it’s clear that your life will change more than mine for obvious reasons. If you don’t want this for now, I can’t accept that” His voice crackled, and you knew he was doing his best to assure you that it was your decision.

He wanted that baby so much, but there he was, giving up on it if it means that would hurt his girl. Turning in his arms, you stared at him, the big brown eyes filled with unshed tears.

“You’re going to be such a great father. Our baby will be proud to call you dad, Mase. Just the way I’m proud to call you mine”

Finally spilling his own tears, Mason hugged you tightly.

“Sorry” he smiled, embarrassed. The tip of his nose instantly went red, which made you smile too.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I cried, now it’s your turn. I’m happy, ‘right? You don’t need to feel guilty about wanting this. I want this too” you whispered, and Mason felt free from the biggest weight on earth.

“Yeah? You do?” his eyes lit up, sparkling. You nodded, smiling when Mase hid his face in your neck.

“I want everything life can give me if I can have it with you babe” you scratched his scalp, feeling his arms shivering against the skin of your waist.

“Oh” Mase left out a shaky breath, kissing your collarbone. “I want this so much”

“Well, now we’ll have it. You should prepare yourself for choosing a name” you gently pulled his hair so he would look at you.

“If it’s a boy then can we name him Peter Parker?” he grinned, biting his lower lip. You couldn’t help but laugh, this being such a Mason thing to ask.

“Fine, I’ll choose the name by myself” you giggled, feeling happy and lightweight.

—

“I want to do something special,” Mason told his friend, Ben. “Like, if I wasn’t there, she would do something to tell me about the pregnancy, right? I was thinking about something like this, but she obviously already knows that she’s pregnant.

The pair of them were at a coffee, talking about you. Ben and a few close friends already knew about your pregnancy, that you discovered two weeks ago, and Mason was counting with help to make his plan a reality.

Ben took a sip of his coffee, raising an eyebrow.

“So you’re trying to make a pregnancy announcement… to the woman who is pregnant?” Chilwell frowned, teasing his friend.

“I want to surprise her somehow. But not any kind of surprise, I wanted to be like, pregnancy related” he tried to explain what he’s been thinking off since both of you discovered about the pregnancy.

“You can make a cake. She loves when you cook and put effort into it. And then you can also make a box, like she would’ve made to tell you. A little United shirt with your number, maybe?”

“That’s a good idea. Yeah, I’ll do it” he smiled, picturing you and the baby at Old Trafford. “But I also wanted something to show her that I’m committed, you know? That I’ll do my role as a father properly, that my life is going to change with hers. That I’m not letting her live motherhood alone while I still live manhood.”

“There’s something, actually…” Benjamin smiled.

Hours later, Mason came back home feeling giddy and excited about the future, sliding in bed and holding his world in his arms.

—

After a couple of weeks, when you completed two months, you were totally comfortable with being pregnant. You made your peace with the fact that things are going to be different, your body will change and your routine will never be the same.

From now on, you have a person counting on you for everything, and after the shock you felt joy and happiness about this new chapter of your life with Mason.

Despite the nausea that started really early, you love to be woken up by your boyfriend’s kisses at your not so visible bump but this Saturday was different, and his side of the bed was already empty when you woke up.

You know his game is tomorrow, and you were certainly going, so today he was supposed to have the day off after training yesterday.

You texted him, asking where he went, and got up to start the day. You did your skincare routine before doing your belly routine — something your best friend Lauren advised you about.

Mase showed up when you were moisturizing your belly, sticking his head into the bathroom.

“Oh no, I almost missed my favourite part” he pouted, getting closer to you and kissing your cheek. “Good morning boo, how you feeling today?”

“I’m good” you smiled when his hands replaced yours, massaging your belly. “Craving a chocolate cake with a lot of chocolate, actually”

“You’re always craving a chocolate cake, babe” he shrugged, smirking. “Good for you I brought one today”

“Really?” your eyes lit up.

“But if you want to eat it then you’ll have to do me a favour” he pouted again. “Rashy needs to distract his new girlfriend, that is not a proper girlfriend yet, and I don’t know how to do this”

“Is that girl we met last game? I could ask her to go shopping with me, see baby stuff. We changed numbers already so I don’t think will be weird”

“Could you do that? I wanna help him so he can feel more confidence in our friendship, you know?” he pouted once more and your heart melted at how cute he is.

“Of course I can”

“Thank you boo, I love you” he hugged you tightly, sniffing your perfume.

“I love you more”

“No you don’t, but I’ll let you think you do because they say it’s a bad thing arguing with beauty pregnant ladies”

“No one says that, Mase” you giggled, turning to stare at him. “Why did I woke up alone, uh?

“Groceries shopping” was his short answer before peppering kisses at your jaw.

When you ended your morning routine, Mase was waiting for you downstairs with your favourite breakfast, avocado toast and orange juice.

The pair of you ate together, talking about some of Mase’s new friends, how things were going so far at the new club and what he expected for the next game.

Then, while he washed the dishes, you texted Marcus’ new girlfriend. She is a sweet girl and knows that you don't have actual friends in Manchester yet, so she quickly accepted going to the mall with you.

When she popped up hours later to pick you, Mase helped you put on his jacket, your favourite one to wear, and kissed your temple.

“I‘ll see if Rashy needs help with his plan, text me when you girls decide to come back home?”

“Yes sir, I’ll let you know” you giggled, kissing him.

“Thank you” Mase murmured, sliding his credit card into your jeans pocket, making you roll your eyes.

—

Shopping with Anne was really, really nice. She talked about Marcus, you talked about Mase, the pair of you had dinner together and she helped you a lot with baby clothes and colour palette for the room.

After a huge pistachio ice cream, you yawned so loud that Anne chuckled.

“Ugh, sorry” you smiled, reaching for your phone to check what time is it. “We kinda have a bedtime routine, and I’m late”

“Mason is probably cursing me right now” she smiled back. “C’mon, I’ll drop you home”

Anne drove to your house whilst both of you screamed Taylor Swift’s lyrics. The feeling of finding a new friend it’s warm and nice, and you are really happy. It was a great day.

When she parked in front of your house, you frowned wondering why the lights were off. Mason saw your message half an hour ago, and you thought that maybe he forgot to let one of the lights on so you wouldn’t stumble.

Saying goodbye to Anne, you jumped out of her car and walked to your door. Everything was silent, and you walked in cautiously.

“Babe?” you entered your house, looking for the light switch. “Mase, are you home?”

A few steps later you finally found it, turning the living room light on.

“Surprise!” Mason shouted, almost making your heart stop. He was standing in the middle of the living room with balloons and a red cake, smiling the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

“What’s going on? I forgot my birthday?” you waited for more people to come out, but it was just your boy with his oversized hoodie and a proud smile.

“No, silly. It’s a pregnancy surprise!” he said proudly. You frowned, but your smile couldn’t be held.

“But I don’t know I’m pregnant already?” you teased him, getting closer. Mason left the cake on the coffee table, waiting for you with open arms. When you were close enough, he hugged you, stroking your back.

“Well yes, but I wanted to do something nice for you” he smirked. There’s no way this man could be better to you.

“That’s cute Mase, thank you”

“Anything for my girls” he kissed your forehead, pulling away just to catch a black box at the table. “And here, a present”

Your heart skipped a beat. For some reason, you both seem to be sure it’s a girl. You would love to see the love of your life being a girl’s dad, even though the idea of a mini him lot you up as well.

“Babe! You didn’t had to!” you gave him a kiss before taking the box to the sofa with you. Mason followed you, sitting behind you and settling you between his legs.

“I know but I think it’s so cute” he kissed your neck and your body shivered.

When you opened the box, a note on the top said “to my favourite girl on earth. you’re going to be the best mom england has ever seen. i can’t wait to be with you both for the rest of my life”

Feeling your eyes watering already, you blamed your hormones and took the present out of the box. You couldn’t hold back the tears when you realized that you were staring at a mini United shirt, with “Baby Mount” written behind, above your man’s number.

“She’ll be our lucky charm” he whispered, tightening his touch on your waist whilst the pair of you stared at the shirt.

“This is adorable, Mase” you pouted, your heart aching in adoration.

“You really liked it?” he asked shyly and almost insecure. You turned around to face him, finding the vulnerability kind of adorable.

“Of course I did. She’ll be very proud to flaunt your last name, babe” you stroked his chin, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Yeah? And would you?” he raised his eyebrows, biting his lower lip. “Would you be very proud to boast about my last name?”

“I mean, it’s a beautiful name” you smiled softly, not even preparing yourself for what was coming next.

Mason laid his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck.

“Take it then” he whispered, smiling against your skin when he heard you gasping. “Marry me, babe”

“God, Mase” you started to cry all over again. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re it for me. We already live together, we kinda do act like a married couple. And, we’re having a baby. I know we had that conversation once and that you think marriage is just signing papers and a couple can survive without ever being married-“

You interrupted him, cupping his face and handing out kisses everywhere your lips could reach.

“Yeah I used to think like that, but not about marrying you. We’re not going to just sign a paper, are we?” you smiled at him. “We’re going to promise our souls to each other. Of course I already promised mine to yours, but I guess a ceremony would be nice. I want your last name so bad”

“I want you to be my wife so bad” he murmured, bringing you to his lap. “I wish I could’ve prepared a better proposal… how do you wanna do this? Now, or with a bigger bump? Or when the baby is born?”

“It was perfect this way, yeah? And we can think about the details tomorrow” you kissed his forehead, adjusting yourself on top of him. “Can we go upstairs?”

“You’re feeling well?” he stared at your face, looking for any signals that something may be wrong.

“I’m feeling like you could show me how much you want to be my husband” you grinned mischievously, sinking your fingers into his hair.

“Oh, Mrs. Mount, you have no idea what you just asked for” he kissed you with pure love and devotion. “But first”

Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Mason picked up a tiny box and opened up between your bodies, showing you the most beautiful engagement ring to ever exist.

“Boo…” you gasped, in shock.

Your fiancé took the ring and asked for your hand, slipping it through your finger, kissing your hand before taking his to your bum, pulling you closer.

“Now I can give you what you want” he got up with you in his arms, not being able to keep his mouth out of you and kissing your shoulder.

You felt overwhelmed by the thought of making love with Mase while using the ring he brought to you when he wasn’t even sure you would say yes, both of you having a conversation about your unwillingness to marry a while ago.

“You’ll take care of me?” you pouted dramatically, already knowing he always does.

“Mmhmm, how you want it?” he asked gently, entering your shared bedroom.

“I think I’m feeling emotionally sensitive” you kept your pout, stroking his scalp.

“Slow then” he laid you in bed, kissing your lips whilst you tried to hold a smile.

Mason took care of you, indeed, and you’re sure you’ll never get used to the way he touches you, like you were everything he needs to stay breathing.

Whether on wild nights or the ones like tonight, calm and gentle, he would always be able to make you feel good.

—

Your wedding was the most perfect day you ever lived. It was Mason’s priority to keep it private and intimate, with your closest friends and family only.

The ceremony was at an isolated beach, surrounded by rocks that made it difficult to see what was happening there. It was pretty quick as well, and the pair of you said your vows with a beautiful and pinky sunset.

Different than what your mother who traveled from Spain to participate thought, your 4-months-old bump wasn’t a problem. You were in fact a little bit worried since your baby was growing so slowly, but this made it possible for you to wear the dress of your dreams and still look good on it.

During the preparation month Mason was always telling you that you would’ve been perfect even if your bump was higher, but you knew it wouldn’t be the same to you. You wanted to live this as the old you, not the mother yet.

You also had plenty of conversations about it with your therapist, and she validated your feelings. “It doesn’t have to be two separated persons, even though I understand you, but maybe it could be easier for you if you think about it just like two different phases for the same person”. You’ve been trying, really.

You were nervous at the ceremony, but Sophia was there as your bridesmaid and made sure everything went really perfect. Mase’s best man was a hard choice for him, but at the end of the day his heart would always choose Declan. Kai wasn’t mad about it, even helping Dec when he needed it.

Your man’s vows were beautiful, and you cried the whole time. Yours were pretty good as well, but nothing like what you’ve heard from him. His words, his choked tone of voice and his stubborn tears even though he was smiling big made the moment absurdly magical.

The wedding party was also intimate, but Mason invited the rest of Chelsea’s and United’s players that weren’t close enough to make it to the ceremony, besides some of his friends from another’s club or league.

And it was pretty insane — you didn’t drink anything, for obvious reasons, but enjoyed the party a lot. The pair of you had your first dance to ‘daylight’, by Taylor Swift, and you couldn’t be happier once you had dedicated all of her love songs to him at some point of your relationship.

Mason was incredibly goofy after a few drinks, dancing to every song and climbing on his friends back. You couldn’t hold your laugh every time he looked at you and tried to wink, but closing both eyes instead without realizing.

After a lot of songs, drinks and pictures, you were really tired but accomplished.

“Wanna go home, wifey?” Mason whispered in your ear, worried about your tiredness.

“You’re done already?”

“Ben is too drunk to dance and Rashy is almost proposing after so many vodka shots” he laughed, holding your waist tightly.

“And you’re ok, boo?” you asked gently, cupping his face. His eyes lighted up looking at you and he nodded, peppering kisses to your face.

“You know I’d never get too drunk to take care of my babies” he murmured. “Let’s go home please? Our day was perfect but I’m so tired, I want to wear cute pyjamas and cuddle my wife all night”

You nodded, kissing his lips and saying goodbye to those still at the party before looking for Mason’s Rover at the parking lot.

Thanks to your bridesmaid, you were using a comfortable pair of Nike shoes since the party started, and given your husband’s level of alcohol you were the one driving the mini truck that he used to call his car.

Once you got home, Mase was almost sober again. He helped you out of the car and upstairs, unzipping your beautiful dress and putting you in a warm pyjama before changing his own clothes.

The pair of you went to the bathroom, brushing your teeth together. Putting you in bed, your husband went downstairs to make you both a cup of tea that you drank together.

Collecting the empty cups and taking them both to the kitchen, Mason came running back to you — and his comfortable bed. He snuggled in your arms, sighing in contentment.

You both already discussed your honeymoon, and you both decided to travel on his vacation, in a few months, since you’re only marrying now due to your pregnancy, forced to do it during the week. He didn’t said to where, and you spent half an hour trying to extract the information from him. Unsuccessfully.

After a few hours chatting about the day and how happy the pair of you were, Mase yawned loudly, leaning closer to your body.

“You need to rest, baby. We were kinda irresponsible…”

“I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m so happy your last name is finally Mount” he whimpered like a child. “Even tho I’ll be a zombie at training this week”

“Shut up” you laughed, scratching his scalp. “What about your international friends?”

“Uhm some of them paid a small fine for missing training” he chuckled.

You know they have money, a lot of money, but you were still impressed that so many of them could make it to your wedding despite the hard conditions.

“Oh my God” you bursted into laughs. “We were irresponsible. A lot”

“And it was worthy” he nuzzled your neck with his nose, and you could feel his body getting heavier as weariness took over him.

You felt your heart flip-flop and your cheeks went red, just like you were fifteen and flirting with your crush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he whispered, tucking his head into your neck. “I couldn’t wait any longer to be your husband”

“Impatient” you teased. Everything Mason has said that night had you feeling like you could explode.

“I know we have eternity together but c‘mon , I have anxiety issues” he grunted. “Can’t wait to make you the happiest wife to ever exist”

“You already do that, Mase” you continued to scratch his scalp, your eyes watering at his words.

You could feel his sleepy smile against the skin of your neck, and Mason yawned lazily.

Leaning closer against your body, your husband murmured how much he loves you before falling asleep.

You closed your eyes, smiling. This was everything you ever prayed for.

—

“You’re doing what?” you gasped. The pair of you were on the couch, you in his lap with one leg on each side of his body.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, since you’re about seven months now, but you were showing their little kicks to Mason when he said he was staying at home for a bit after you gave birth.

“Ben had the idea months ago and I just loved it” Mason said calmly, scratching your belly. “And the baby will love it too, right bubba?”

“Of course he had the idea Mase, this means you’ll be off the pitch for weeks and since you’re better than him he won’t need to worry about you beating his ass at Old Trafford since you’re going to miss the game against Chelsea” you said in just one breath.

“Uhmmm I didn’t think about it but never mind, I’m doing it” he scoffed the hair out of your face. “Paternity leave existes for a reason. I need time to adapt to my new routine just like you. The couple first months are pretty hard and you’ll need me to do my part. I would say you’ll need help but I’m not just a help, I’m your husband. And the father.”

“Alright. Guess if my life is going to change then yours are too?”

“Exactly. If you need time to take care of our baby, recover and adjust your routine, so do I. In fact, you need me to take time to take care of our baby so you can recover. Yep, no discussing it.” he tickled your waist, stealing a kiss when you smiled bigger.

“Fine. But hear me: Ben is scared as fuck about facing you at your new home”

Mason giggled, your words always giving him more confidence about how he’s doing at Manny.

“Benji is as good as me, boo. You know that. He’s the vice captain for a reason” he defended his best mate. They would always do that, defend each other, and you think it’s really cute. Even though you know Mason is better, you love Ben. Is not like he is shitty or something.

“Yeah yeah, if you say so” you smiled, cupping his face. “Have you thought about where you want bubba to be born? Manchester? London?”

“I was thinking about it yeah and- I mean, you don’t have to want this but I was just you know, thinking and…” he smiled shyly. “It wouldn’t be nice if the baby was born in your city?”

“Masey” you whimpered, your heart skipping a beat. “You’re being serious?”

“Totally“ Mase kissed the tip of your nose, shrugging. “We already live here, you are surrounded by my culture, friends and family and I think it would be meaningful to you. It’s a beautiful place, with a nice weather and culture as well and since they’re being born here, the nationality will connect them with your country”

“Yeah? And you’ll let them cheer for Barça?” you teased him.

“No. Absolutely not. But they can like Messi.” he smirked, peppering soft kisses on your neck.

“I’ll tell this to the owner of the seven on your back” you giggled, cupping his face so he was looking at you again.

“I’m the owner now” Mason closed his eyes, relaxing with your touch before opening them and staring at your soul. “Wait- if it’s a boy we can call him Cristiano Ronaldo!”

“No. Absolutely not” you rolled your eyes, giggling when your man squeezed your body against his. “If it’s a girl we could call her Winter and she would match Summ”

“Yeah yeah, sure. I’ll love to spend some time making Autumn and Spring with you” Mason dipped his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, holding you even tighter when you both needed air. “I love you, boo. Both of you.”

Words he had said a thousand times before, but you would never get used to it. The new addition only giving your heart more reasons to stop completely.

“We love you more, Mase.” you smiled, gasping when your little baby kicked. “See? They agree.”

Mason smiled, massaging your belly and talking with the baby. The pair of you passed the next few hours like this, in your own bubble, and you couldn’t be happier.

You have your own family now. It’s yours, and it's beautiful.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #mason mount x y/n #mason mount angst #mason mount fluffy #mason mount x reader #mason mount fics #football fanfics

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 month

Text

Rough times.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested: Hi! Would you be willing to maybe do a one shot with Daryl x reader in a pre established relationship but the reader is pregnant with a child that doesn't belong to him and she isn't proud of? (non-con if you're comfortable with that) Some angst about the reader being worried he won't love her once he finds out 👀

Warning: Non-con, unwanted pregnancy, some angst but happy ending.

What you had with Daryl started early on at the quarry. You were one of the few who didn't look at the Dixons with disgust and actually appreciatwd their hunting efforts and looked past the less than pleasant habits the older brother had.

After Daryl returned injured from his search for Sophia, you were his primary caretaker seeing he was calmest around you. By the time he got back to good health you were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

Only you two knew, no one else really noticed much of a difference seeing you still slept in your own tents and never kissed. You were both too new to relationships and seeing Daryl needed to get used to being no longer on his own you agreed to let it all take as long as it needed.

When you arrived at the prison and cleared it enough to call home you shared a cell. Well, you slept in the cell in front of where Daryl laid out his matres and he used your cell to change and store his items.

By now you ate breakfast together and paired up on guard shifts. You were always at the gate to welcome him back after hunts and eventually he's always stick around after bringing you the meat at the outside kitchen after taking in the woodbury folks.

Yet still you were at loving smiles and shoulder touches, sometimes the short hug goodnight.

It was only the night before the prison fell you shared your first kiss.

And then you were on your own.

The Governor attacked and ended any posibility of returning to the prison and all you heard between the chaos was "RUN!" so you ran. You ran like crazy until you couldn't anymore and realized how screwed you were without your group.

It wasn't long before you were starving and tired, swaying in your walk to a point of not even noticing the men approaching you and catching you mid fall until you were in his arms. Your vision faded and you were out cold, not catching the man's words.

"Claimed."

When you woke up you were in a warehouse with a bunch of strange men and your guts told you to run. Run and find Daryl, or anyone from your group. Except you never made it far seeing they had plans for you.

One of them came to fetch you, held your wrists together behind your back and held you out for the others to stare. Then they started to offer things to the one holding you. Crazy stuff like weapons and food rations that would last a single person a week easily. The whole situation just kept getting worse and worse up to the point of you learning they were offering trades.

Trades of material worth to get time with you. And each trade was accepted and ranked from best to worst.

Ranked in what order they got to fuck you after the one who claimed you had finished.

You couldn't remember when or how long you were passed out when you were woken up by your owner, telling you to dress for a little trip.

He took you to a house not far from their warehouse spot and while he sounded kind and offered you food he only brought you there for some private one on one time..

You tried to stay strong, keeping faith in the fact that Daryl would find you and suffer theough this with the least possible resistance.

Lucky for you the house wasn't empty and just when your captor was going to make amove he was downed by no one else than Rick.

You cried the second he came into view. Letting it all out and dropping to your knees, clamped to his leg you sobbed inyo thr fabric of his pants. And he let you. He gave you the time to let it all out and calm down before he helped you up and took you downstairs to see Carl and soon out of the home to be back on the road.

Three days passed on the road with your refound group before your nightmares turn real when the group of men who assaulted you catch up and threaten to kill Rick and then the rest of you too.

Eyes wide you stared at the leader talk to Rick, no longer catching a single word when your eyes found him

Daryl.

Why was he with them?

Your surroundings blurred and sounds drowned out when the panic set in. Curled into yourself you only heard close gunshots and the accompanied loud ringing until a hamd rested on your shoulder where you sat against the side of a car.

"Y'alrigh?" Daryl's voice made you jump, sitting upright and throwing your full body against him, only to repeat the full crying session from inside the house again but this time against the leather of your boyfriend's vest.

Time passed and it seemed like you and Daryl were back on square one. Daryl blamed it on the trauma of having to flee the prison in the way it happened, but the truth was you still hadn't told him about your time apart.

You lost track of your days after your time with the group Daryl called the Claimers, not thinking about the whole situation much anymore until your third day in a row started with you puking up anything that hadn't been digested entirely yet.

The first two days you blamed the canned food and maybe undercooked meat but now you were hunched over at the side of the road when the harsh reality set in. This was in no way or shape a positive thing. Not after losing Lori in the way you did. Not because you were still without a more permanent home and even less because it wasn't Daryl who caused it. You hadn't been able to tell him what happened to you and you were out of time to prepare for the conversation.

You sat crouched and stared dead into the woods, trying your hardest to focus on a single leaf until your breathing was back to normal but your mind was too loud.

Your stomach emptied itself even further over the forest floor as sobs racked your whole body. You shivered as a cold sweat broke out. You and Daryl were already on worse terms than before the prison fell with being in survival mode constantly, there was no time to fhink about improving your relationship right now.

With your arms clutched around yourself you heaved as your stomach had nothing left to and your entire body hurt with every sob that left your lips.

"Hey," Daryl's voice and his hand on your shoulder had you freeze in panic. "Y'alrigh?"

It was now or never, forcing your head to shake. "No.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and Daryl crouched down next to you to investigate. Your mind screamed at hou to lie. Fake being just ill and keep his mind on surviving for a while longer but your heart knew it was wrong.

You had already been lying to him for so long by not telling him immediately and you started to feel like it would be the proper punishment to be alone in this after you told him.

"I think I'm pregnant."

Instead of an answer Daryl was up and pacing at the edge of the road. You both knew it wasn't his and without hearing your side of story his mind went to every possible scenario that made him want to walk off and keep going until his legs gave out but you were still his partner. The teo of you might not have acted like it for a while but it was still true and he never forgot that.

He stopped at your side and leaned against a tree. "Talk.. please." He huffed the last word after seconds of silence, he needed to tone down the anger that came too natural to him.

You fell back on your ass and wiped your face on the bottom half of your sweater before steading your breaths and talking Daryl through the happenings of your time apart. The strange men, their deal that ended in the most traumatic night of your life and the trip to the house where Rick saved you and reuniting with Carl and Michonne up to where you met again.

When you finished your recollection of events you couldn't make yourself look up at Daryl. You felt like the worst person in exsistence for lying to him and it got only worse when he announced he needed some time and left.

You spent the days in the back of the RV, unsure if you should stay in this relationship and have Daryl raise a kid that wasn't his. Secretly you begged this world not giving you enough to have it survive long enough and go through the physical suffering of losing it but keep the man you loved.

Were you going to be okay, raising a child that that came into the world like this? Were you goinf to be okay dealing with a living, breathing reminder of what happened? Would Daryl?

You let this happen. You should have kept walking even if it killed you.

Daryl kept his word and hadn't been near you for a while. His time spent not hunting was filled with talking down at himself.

He let that happen. He should have been at your side. He should be at your side but he wasn't sure how he'd manage. He couldn't even go find the one who did it to you and make sure he suffered as much as you did since that whole group was dead by now.

The thought of you in such a situation almost cost him his life, the anger causing him to miss a walker on the ground under some leaves as it snapped at his leg and missed by a hair.

He took it out and stalked back to the group who by now lost their vehicles and had to travel on foot.the group knew about Daryl's anger and his inability to close off that part in a healty way. They knew of your doubts, your secret wishes and especially now traveling on foot they saw your tiredness, your sadness.

You spent all your time apart. Both unable to word the things in your minds as you ate dogmeat, got caught in a much needed rainstorm and hid in a barn where you were found by a stranger who claimed to have a community that would house you all.

A Whole month had passed after the horrible events and now you laid down in the community's infirmary, being examined after all the women of your group had dragged you into the room to be looked after and get needed supplements. The appointment made everything you still tried to deny true and you were sent back to your group with medication, vitamins and a sad heart.

Daryl watched how the women swarmed you and felt like the biggest asshole for not doing what they did. He should be there with you to comfort you about all of this. To tell you he'd make it all work as long as you two did it together. But why wasn't his body moving as he told himself this?

It was Rick's hand on his shoulder that pulled Daryl from his own mind back into reality. He was pulled up and taken along in the direction where you rested on the couch. Carol saw them and ushered the others aside, making sure Daryl had a place to sit beside you as Rick set him down and the others walked off.

"Hey," his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Even throigh your own still twisted nerves you could feel his and welcomed him into your space with a smile. He came to you and didn't run as soon as Rick's hands were off him, he stayed on his own.

"S'good fer ya ta hav'a roof over yer head now." He was fidgeting with loose ends on his clothes, hoping his words made sense.

"Yeah, you're right.." You should tell him. You have to tell him.

"You know you don't have to stick around, right? It's not your kid, not your problem." The words hurt coming out of your mouth, and they hurt reaching Daryl's ears.

He may not have shown it, solely because he didn't know how, but he loved you. "I ain't lettin' ya do this on yer own." You heard his spoken words and knew they translated to more. More that Daryl had a difficulty saying out loud.

It was moments like this you thanked not needing many words to understand each other. It was one of the things that attracted the two of you in the beginning after all.

Daryl wasn't going to leave you over this. He was willing to do this with you and it took a huge weight off your chest. It was going to take a while but you were going to be okay, the three of you.

When the group fully settled in their homes and everyone was welcomed into the community you spent a lot of time in the garage with Daryl. He wanted to keep an eye on you as the baby grew, but he still needed to get work done so he had set up a corner for you to lounge and read books in. He's catch you staring his way more often than not, but it didn't bother him if it was you.

"Denise came ta drop these off for ya." Daryl walked into the bathroom where you were soaking in the tub. He placed your refill pharmacy order on the counter and came to kiss your forehead, admiring your bump for a moment before retreating into the bedroom to lay down and wait for you to call for assistance.. You were okay with you being nude these days, although Daryl still preferred to have his upper body covered and slept in an old ratty shirt.

Daryl sat on his knees next to the bed, he held your hand, your thigh, the towels when Denise instructed him to do so. He was everywhere to make sure you were comfortable and cried the second the baby made a sound and cheers went around the room.

He watched as the women cleaned the baby girl and laid her down on your chest. He had moved from side to side, feeling like he was in the way of all the moving people that assisted in helping your child into the world but was assured he was exactly where he needed to be for now, up till Denise gave him new instructions after a while of him doing nothing but stare and admire.

Sniffling he made his way to the other side of the bed on the doc's orders and scooted against your shoulder.

His hands were shaking since the second Denise told him to go lay down and take off his shirt. He thanked himself for wearing a button down as he kept his back against the pillows and undid the buttons to only shove aside the front of his shirt so it hung off his shoulders.

This time it was Carol who came to help, showing the new parents how to hold and handle theit newborn as she took her from mom's chest and placed her on dad's.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Okay this one took me out. I'm sorry it took so long!!

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl

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starshipsofstarlord · 8 months

Text

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl imagines #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Note

Lots of love if you write this, and lots of love if you don’t!

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Note: this is a cute idea! I might write a different version of this one later <3 not sure how I feel about it. This ended up a lot more angst and has a lot more of an argument than I originally intended tbh

Another note: I usually write in past tense but this one has both past and present tense. It’s lightly proofread but I apologize if I missed any errors in past vs present tense!

Summary: Every since he first saw you he’s seemingly had it out for you. All that frustration comes to a head when you have to go rescue him from the side of the road.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Daryl bring a Dickson, profanity, TWD typical non graphic violence, guns

Daryl stepped into the RV for a gun, shaking his head with annoyance at the sight of your failure. Well, multiple failures. See, you started with a standard Glock, but the recoil spring in that one was too hard to set in place. Then, you switched to the Beretta, where you found your current firing pin spring issue.

Daryl stared down at all the bits and pieces sprawled on the table in front of you.

“Y’gon’ take every damn gun apart ‘til we ain’t got none when we need ‘em?” He complained. You glared.

“Well, excuse me if taking apart guns to clean them wasn’t my hobby of choice before shit hit the fan.” You shot back.

That day was the beginning of a long standing feud between the two of you. A feud that was frankly one sided. You never had a problem with the smelly hunter. In fact, you often made meager attempts at impressing him or even going as far as to be friendly. Unfortunately, you were always met with rude snark and bitterness.

One time, at the CDC, you had a little too much wine with dinner. You were stumbling through the hall, attempting to find the room you had previously claimed, when you had the misfortune of walking right into Daryl.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” You giggled.

“Damn it.” He grumbled with an annoyed sigh. “Can’t ya watch where the hell you’re goin’?”

“I’m sorry, really—“ You tried to apologize again but he had no intentions of hearing it.

“Don’t drink if ya can’t handle yourself.” He snapped. “Got the dead roamin’ the damn earth and you get shit-faced the first damn chance ya get!”

In your drunken, emotional state, you sniffled and cried quietly to yourself that night. Why was he always so damn mean? You missed your friends and family so much, and you couldn’t even bare to think about your cat.

When Sophia got lost everything was worse. You’d offer to help with the search and you’d always hear the same response; “I already got one little kid to look for. I don’t need two.”

You also tried to console him when Sophia’s body came staggering out of that barn.

“You’re a great tracker, Daryl. We were all just too late.” You’d say.

“Ain’t no we! You didn’t do shit but stay back and twiddle your fuckin’ thumbs! Get on somewhere. I don’t need your caudlin’.”

When the farm fell, he’d always snap at you for lagging behind the group when you were on the move. You couldn’t help it. You were so tired and hungry.

“Keep up, damn it. Can’t afford to keep slowin’ down!”

When you were all clearing the prison, he wouldn’t even let you shoot.

“Jus’ stay back and hit the fence. Distract ‘em. You can’t shoot for shit.”

Since then, you reasoned to just avoid him. You’d never met anyone who could make you feel so bad about yourself. You decided to stop asking yourself why he hated you. You weren’t going to try and change it anymore. You were just going to exist the best you could, as far away from him as the prison yard would allow.

Which brings us to now. Inventory is your main task at the prison. Some people make it hard. Carl never checks out his weapons, nor does Daryl. But with Carl losing his mom and Daryl being such an ass, you never say anything. You just make notes on the weapons they’re most likely to take without telling you.

Beth sometimes grabs formula without letting you know, but taking care of a baby is hard work for a teenage girl to be doing full time. You have no intentions of nagging her. So, as usual, you just check your inventory every day and report to Rick or Hershel, usually the latter.

When your inventory is done for the afternoon, you decide to find Carol and help her with laundry. Maggie is on the tower today with Glenn, so she’s all by herself out there scrubbing everyone’s smelly clothes.

“Hey. Need some help?” You ask her, pressing your lips into a thin smile. She returns the same expression and nods.

“Please? For such a small group we sure go through a lot of clothes.”

“No problem.” You say as you get down on your knees and begin scrubbing and ringing out a pair of jeans. “Jeez. These really stink.” You mumble. Carol giggles.

“Daryl.” She sighs.

“Does he ever shower?”

“I mean.. never would be a strong word. Rarely, though, that might be the accurate description.” She jokes. You chuckle.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Rick asks as he approaches you. You look up from Daryl’s stained jeans. “Could you take a car out to the main road? Daryl’s broken down out there. He can’t carry all those supplies back.”

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows, tossing a quick glance to Carol. If anyone is accustomed to your strained relationship with the archer, it’s her. Daryl would often complain about you to her, and she’d just as often give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder when she’d notice his harsh treatment.

“Well, yeah, if ya don’t mind.” Rick nods. He is a little more oblivious to how rude Daryl can be toward you, but he isn’t blind to the visible tension the two of you share. He just assumes it was never that serious.

“Um.. Sure.” You shrug. A pit in your stomach is already festering, growing bigger as it feeds on your anxiety. You had been very successful at avoiding Daryl since you’d been at the prison. The only solace you find is in the fact that you had grown more confident since you guys found this place. Being in charge of inventory gave you a much needed sense of control. From there, you realized just how much you really did have control over, and soon enough the scared girl you once were had become a productive young woman. Now, you have to put that confidence to the test, facing the man who kind of stole what little faith in yourself you had to begin with. You vow to yourself that today will be the day you stand your ground to Daryl Dixon.

You brush off your jeans and accept the keys from Rick before making your way to the vehicle parked near the gates. When you start the engine, Carl drags open one gate, then the other, and you head out. You notice Daryl right away when you make it to the main road. He’s smoking a cigarette, leaned up against the red truck he had taken into town.

You can’t help but wonder why he was on a run by himself to begin with. It isn’t like Rick to send anyone off on their own. Then again, knowing Daryl, it’s not that hard to figure out why he might be a solo kind of guy.

You pull the car up beside the truck. He glances up at the vehicle but immediately looks back down at the ground when he realizes it’s you. He makes sure to seem indifferent.

Instead of letting his lack of a greeting (or gratitude) phase you, you just step out of the driver’s seat and pop the trunk open before approaching the bed of the truck and beginning to transfer all of his loot into the car. When the trunk fills up, you resort to packing the back seat.

By the time Daryl finishes his cigarette, he notices there are a few more items still in the truck. He huffs and impatiently grabs the three items, shoving them in the back seat and slamming the door shut, mumbling something about you taking your sweet time.

“What was that?” You speak up before sitting back down in the driver’s seat.

“Move over. I’m drivin’.”

“That’s not what you said, first of all. And no. I drove here just fine, I can drive back.” You roll your eyes.

“Quit bein’ difficult damn it! I’m tired. Been workin’ all day out there riskin’ my neck.” He snaps.

“I’ve been working too.” You shrug, sitting down and starting the engine.

“Scribblin’ on a clipboard ain’t nothin’ like what I do.” He argues, still standing by the driver side, waiting for you to give in and let him drive. You won’t, though. You won’t cave in and bow to him like a puppy with its tail between its legs like you used to. He lost the privilege of your kindness — or maybe cowardice — a while ago.

“Actually, I woke up and spent two hours on the fence impaling skulls, then I helped Hershel hoe the ground for spring crops before I scrubbed the common area of the cell block on my hands and knees. Then I did inventory, then I washed your smelly ass jeans. So, no, I don’t just scribble on a clip board.” You correct him. “And, while we’re on that subject, you’re supposed to check out your fucking weapons. Would make the scribbling part a lot easier for me.”

He clenches his jaw and his fists at your insubordination.

“I don’t know when you grew a smart ass mouth but I ain’t got time for it so quit your bitchin’ and move outta my seat.” He demands.

“Or you could stop wasting time and just get in the passenger seat.” You roll your eyes.

“God, do you ever stop bein’ such a damn burden?!” He shouts. You run your tongue over your teeth and nod.

“Burden?” You repeat.

“Yeah. A burden.” He drawls. “As in, makin’ shit harder for everyone around you.”

“Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully. “Okay.”

With that simple response, you shut off the engine, toss the keys on the ground beside him, and stand up. With your knife in your belt for protection, you start walking toward the woods. You realize that he is absolutely unbearable. You won’t subject yourself to even a five minute car ride with him.

“Where the hell are you goin’?!” He calls out after you. You ignore him. “C’mon, (Y/N), get in the damn car!”

By this point you’re blending into the trees and he’s losing sight of you. He groans and slams the car door shut, snatching the keys off the asphalt before he marches off after you. He swears when he gets his hands on you, he’s dragging you back by your ankles and cramming you in the trunk with the rest of the shit he looted today.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts. You sigh.

“Fuck off! You wanted to drive so bad, be my guest! Whole car to yourself!” You call back.

“Quit bein’ so damn—“

You whip around, eyes blaring with fury.

“So what? Burdensome? Annoying? Stupid?” You cut him off, recalling some of the insults he had bestowed upon you in the past. “I’m so fucking sick of you! All I ever did was try to be nice to you! And all you ever gave me in return was cruelty!”

You’re shaking now. He’s stopped a few feet away from you, silent as you unleash your pent up frustrations on him.

“You know,” you begin, not as loud and shrilled as before. “I didn’t even want to come help you. Because I knew it would be like this. I only came because I was asked to. So you wouldn’t have to try to carry shit back to the prison and go through more trouble. I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t try to be friendly or otherwise vexing. Yet, somehow, that wasn’t good enough. If my presence alone makes you so miserable, then I’ll walk.”

With that, you turn around and start storming back toward the prison.

“(Y/N)—“ He tries to protest but it just triggers another wave of anger.

“What?!” You throw your hands up. “What did I ever do to you?! Just leave me alone!” You shout, turning back to him. “Why do you hate me?!”

“I don’t hate you!” He fires back.

You scoff and cross your arms. “Sure seems like it.”

“Well if ya would just listen to me I wouldn’t get so mad!”

“I’m not your fucking dog, Dixon! I shouldn’t have to listen to you for you to treat me like a human being.”

“Treat you like what?” He scoffs. “All I ever did was try and look out for ya! Ya can’t do anything right! How the hell am I supposed to keep ya safe if ya can’t follow a simple fuckin’ direction?”

“Look out for me? How? By making me feel like shit about myself? Reminding me every chance you get how much you just can’t fucking stand me? You don’t treat anyone else like that. Nobody.” Your eyes are watering now. The rage is slowly wearing down into what it really is at its core: hurt. He hurt you time and time again and you always tried to make it right, even when you had done nothing wrong. Shit, (Y/N), get it together. Don’t let him see you like this.

“Well why the hell are ya so worried ‘bout what I think?” He asks.

“I don’t know!” You snap, turning away from him again. You hug yourself and sniffle. “Just leave me alone.” You beg quietly. “Go drive yourself back. I’d rather walk.”

He stands there silently, mouth opening and closing like he has words to say but can’t find them in his sea of thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you cry. He doesn’t even know why you piss him off so much. He does know that seeing you there, hugging yourself as your shoulders rise and fall with silent whimpers makes him feel like shit. He steps toward you slowly, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch and he retracts his arm.

“I don’t hate ya.” He finally speaks. When you don’t respond he realizes he has to continue. “I just don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“Yeah, right.” You mumble. “All you do is hurt me.”

He swallows a dry lump. Is that true?

“I don’t mean to.” He insists. “I just.. Ya don’t belong in this world. You’re nice. Ya ain’t violent, you’re pret—“ He stops. Your ears perk up. Was he about to call you pretty?

“What I’m tryin’ to say is… Ever since I first saw ya I knew ya had to be looked after — kept safe. Ya ain’t like most people. I’d feel too bad if ya… If ya got hurt.” He admits softly. You turn your head a little, peeking behind you to try and catch a glimpse of him.

His hand finds your shoulder again and this time you don’t shrug him away. You sniffle and wipe your eye clean of tears.

“So you’re mean to me to protect me?” You summarize. He realizes how stupid that must sound.

“I just get frustrated when I see how vulnerable ya are. Can’t clean a gun and put it back together, can’t aim to save your life, can’t—“

“Couldn’t.” You correct him. “I couldn’t do those things, but I’ve learned how. You just haven’t been around to see it. Or encourage it.”

He nods. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles. “Maybe you could, uh, show me sometime.”

“Show you what?” You turn back to him.

“Dunno.” He shrugs. It’s a lot harder for him to speak freely when you’re actually looking at him. “What ya can do.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Maybe you could stop being such an asshole.” You suggest.

He smirks a little.

“I can try.”

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#daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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viennakarma · 2 months

Text

Everybody wants a taste

Pato O’Ward x Reader

Summary: Pato knows better than to push you, but sometimes he does. The punishment is bad, but sometimes he can count on you to be merciful.

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, smut, +18, porn with very little plot, Dom!reader, Sub!pato, rough sex, slapping, biting, praise kink, degradation kink, jealous!reader, possessive!reader, brief aftercare, not beta read

Relationship: Pato O'ward x Reader

Note: This is a birthday oneshot for my best friend Sophia, who loves to lurk around in my blog (and she thinks I don't know what her user is)! Happiest birthday, Sophia! I love you, thank you for being my friend. [o que você não me pede sorrindo que eu não faço chorando? eu avisei que o tempo ia me inocentar, hehe]

If you are pato o'ward and is seeing this, LEAVE!

“Strike one,” you mumbled close to Pato’s ear as you watched him perk up to your voice. His hold on a champagne flute shook minimally but you knew he heard you and understood the warning in your voice.

Pato had been more socially involved in tonight’s party. Which usually wouldn’t really bother you too much, but when there were at least three random women openly flirting with him, and he didn’t do anything to stop it, it really got on your nerves. And he knew the only one getting punished for it is himself.

You left him alone and went to the bar, asking for a new mojito, but your eyes were trained on Pato on the other side of the room. He was aware of you too, the flush on his cheeks you knew was a reflection of your power over him.

He kept talking with the same women who were flirting with him before. You mentally gave him ten more minutes to pack up the conversation and come to you. When he didn’t, you raised your hand and showed him the number two.

Strike two.

He gulped, saying something to the women and scurrying away from them. He started walking up to you, but he was halfway through when one of the women stopped him standing in front of him and running a hand up and down his chest. It was only a couple of seconds, and Pato quickly held her wrist, told her off and kept walking up to you.

You sipped your drink, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes when he finally stopped in front of you.

“Strike three, Patricio,” you said with a saccharine smile and he shook his head.

“You saw that- she came onto me! I didn’t do anything!”

“Had you stopped her way before, none of it would’ve happened.”

“But she-”

You held a finger up, and he silenced. After finishing your mojito, you set it down and took Pato’s hand, walking away. He followed you into the taxi, and quietly sat down on the way home. You absentmindedly held a hand on his thigh. Pato tried to not to squirm, knowing that you were pretty pissed at his little stunt. You were the jealous type, and when he was feeling a little adventurous, he’d go out of his way to get a rise of you, but tonight had not been his intention to piss you off and risk not being allowed to cum, as you knew it was the one punishment he didn’t enjoy fully.

At home, you two removed your coats, and you sat on the sofa, seemingly relaxing against the cushions. Maybe you were in a good enough mood to not punish him.

“Can I take off your heels?” Pato offered, kneeling by your feet. You arched an eyebrow but offered your foot. He unlatched the straps of your heels, and you sighed as he massaged each of your feet softly.

Pato stood up and went into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water that you almost chugged down, he knew you always got thirsty after nights out. But you knew better, you knew he was trying to butter you up after hitting three strikes at the party. You opened your arms, and he fell face first into your chest, nuzzling his face on the low cut of your dress. You scratched up and down his back, and he practically purred into you, melting.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, baby,” you muttered and he just stood up, carrying you into the bedroom.

He only stopped when he placed you on the floor by the bed. You linked both arms around his neck, tiptoeing to kiss him on the lips. Pato’s hands circled your waist, and he palmed your ass just as you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth and feeling him sighing into your lips. You kissed down his jaw, then you held his face, kissing down his neck, biting softly. He melted, and you tightened your hold on his jaw.

“You think I don’t know you’re trying to evade your punishment? Being a good boy now won’t spare you,” you bit harder on his neck, and he groaned out loud, “take your clothes off and get on the bed. Boxers stay on.”

He whined because he knew his boxers only came out if he were to cum, and right now, he wouldn't. You went into the closet and got a pair of leather handcuffs, a collar and a crop. You took your clothes off, staying only with panties on. When you went back, he was laying on the bed, as instructed. As soon as he saw the handcuffs, he put both hands up so you could tie him to the headboard, you knelt beside him, placing the cuffs and then, the collar around his thick neck.

You sat on his lap, only two layers of fabric between your cunt and him. Leaning down, you kissed him hard, devouring him, sucking his tongue, biting his lower lip, nipping at his chin. You grounded your hips on his, moaning at the feel of his erection under you.

“I’m using you tonight, baby,” you told him, moving your hips up and down his covered cock, “be good, and maybe you get a reward in the end, yes?”

“Yes, please,” he moaned, bucking his hips up, into you. You sighed, slapping his face, not very hard just as a warning, but he smiled at you, all sweet and innocent. So you slapped him again, his face flush and he bit back a smile.

You scooted back until you were between his legs, running your hands up and down his muscly thighs. You leaned down, fully mouthing at his cock over his boxers, and he moaned pathetically. Letting your saliva drip down onto the fabric, you fully sucked on him, wetting him all over and making a mess.

“Ah, please, please, love-” He moaned out loud, trying to control his hips, shaking.

“I’m sorry? Did you say something?” You stopped, and he whined, shaking his head no.

You ran your nails up and down his chest, and his breath hitched. You kissed his chest, then you bit down on his skin until a red mark was left. Pato loved pain, he was so turned on whenever you marked his skin out of possessiveness. You knew he would never go for someone else, but a jealous part of you was satisfied that if he ever did, there would be bite marks and hickeys all over his chest to let anyone know who Pato belonged to.

You quickly stood up so you could remove your damp panties. On top of him again, you scooted over, until you had a knee on each side of his head, and the motherfucker smiled wildly as soon as he realized what you were doing.

He welcomed your cunt with an open mouth as you sat on his face, his tongue lapping up at your folds up and down. As a motorsports driver, he had great head and neck control, so you could fully sit on his face and he would be fine.

You moaned, holding on the headboard for balance. He sucked you as if he was making out with your cunt, and you quickly built up to your orgasm. You were so close that you started to ride his face full force, one hand on his head, pulling his hair as you rode him, his stubble was a good kind of pain against your sensitive skin.

When he fully sucked your clit, you were a goner. Moaning and writhing until that shaky haze left your body after you fully rode out your orgasm.

“Ah, baby! You’re such a good boy making me cum,” you said, moving from his head, looking at the complete mess you made of his face.

You held his face and kissed him, tasting yourself and he moaned into your mouth when he felt your hand cupping him over his boxers.

“What is your color?” You asked, breaking the kiss with a string of saliva between your lips.

“Green, baby. Please, please!” His hands bucked against the handcuffs. You hummed and squeezed his cock harder, his boxers wet with both your saliva and his precum.

“I’m not sure if you deserve anything good today, honey” you reached for the crop, hitting Pato’s thighs with it, and he squirmed.

“I’ll be good, mami. I promise I’ll be so good for you!” He pleaded, sweat coating his forehead and the bite marks already showing up purple all over his chest.

You pulled at his boxers, finally setting his cock free, and he moaned at the possibilities. Leaning down, you spit over his cock, not that he really needed, he had leaked so much precum already. You wrapped a hand around his girth, pumping him torturously slow, up and down. You watched his face contort into pain and pleasure, and he tried his best to not fuck into your hand. He failed, so you gripped the crop and hit each side of his face with it. Pato kept moaning and whispering his begging words.

Finally, you let go of the crop, got on his lap and lined up his cock into your entrance. He looked down, all hopeful.

“If you cum without my permission, you will regret it, Patricio.” Your voice was serious, and he nodded in agreement. You reached for his face and slapped him, and he groaned as you placed his cockhead into your warm cunt, “answer, me.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I won’t cum- cum without your permission, mami!” He nodded.

You sunk into him, at once and you felt so full you needed a moment. His eyes rolled back at the feel of your tight, warm cunt. You placed both hands over his chest for balance, then you started riding him, slow at first, up and down with your wetness coating his length. You were going slow, but so hard that he hit that one spot inside you that had you shaking with desire, the knot in your core tightening up before release.

Both of you were moaning obscenely loud, your falling on your face as your muscles started to strain from the movements.

“Ah, mami, please let me cum! I’m so close!”

“Hold it,” you told him, not stopping.

“I can’t! Feels too good- fuck- ah, I can’t-”

You pulled him out, scooting forward on his abdomen and away from his cock as he cried out, so close to his release.

“I told you not to. I’m going to touch myself and make me cum, and you won’t get any release today,” you threatened. He whined.

“No, no, I’ll be good! I won’t cum until you say so, please. Please let me fill you up!”

You chuckled at his eagerness, and you went back, spearing yourself on him once again. Tired of games, you started riding him, fast and hard, pounding both of you on the bed. Running your hands up and down your body, you pinched your nipples and rubbed your clit, until it had you cumming hard on his cock, your cunt clenching so hard on him that Pato thought he was going to pass out trying to hold back his own orgasm. He managed to resist the warm embrace of your cunt pulsing through your high, letting your moans fill the room and you recover from your own orgasm.

“You’re good, baby, so so good holding back f’me,” you said, breathless, “got your first reward.”

You leaned to the headboard, your tits pressing over his face, and uncuffed his wrists, massaging softly with your hands.

“Can I touch you?” His eyes shone like a boy in the park.

“Yes, baby,” you placed his hands on your hips, and started riding him again.

You kept the rhythm from before, snapping your hips, now with the aid of his own hands. It didn’t take much for him to start stuttering, his moans louder by the second.

“I’m sorry, so so sorry! I’m sorry-” Pato said between groans as his hips started bucking into yours.

“It’s ok, baby. You can cum,” you finally allowed him, pulling on his collar to choke him a little bit.

“Thank you, mami. Thank you, thank you!”

He came with a loud groan, his eyes rolling back and his grip on your hips bruising as he twitched inside you, and you clenched around his cock, milking him within an inch of his life. He was all flushed and fucked out, his face sweaty, rosy lips, teary eyed with his pupils blown wide. One of your favorite versions of him. You plopped on his chest, both of you panting and worn down.

You cuddled for a little while, then you managed to get Pato into the bathroom for a warm and quick shower to clean the two of you. He washed you and you washed him, softly and with much affection as always. Aftercare was such an intimate moment between you, always checking with each other if everything was alright. You ran a hand through his hair, down his back, up to his shoulders, and he sighed contently as you ran your hand down his chest. Before leaving the shower, he hugged you, kissing your head and holding you tight for a couple of seconds.

He was sleepy when you got back to bed, you checked his hickeys and bites to see if you had accidentally hurt him, then you put some cream on his skin.

You laid down and Pato laid on top of you, his face against your boobs just as he loved to do.

“Baby, you were very good today,” you told him, softly running a hand through his hair.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“We need to get water and a snack, come on,” you poked him, but he nuzzled further into your boobs.

“Just five more minutes?”

“Ok, five more minutes, then” you kissed his head.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know,” you pulled his head to peck his lips, “and I love you too.”

#formula 1 #smut #pato o'ward #pato o'ward x reader #pato o'ward x you #indycar #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #arrow mclaren #patricio o'ward

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

Text

Meet Cute

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn't want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to "Your Fault," describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).

Era: Hershel farm era.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff (if you squint at it), Patching up someone's wounds.

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. I'll say references to past trauma with survivors, but mentioned only once or twice and not detailed. Blood and gore, because the reader is patching up Daryl's wounds and of course zombies. Cursing, not a lot, but a few words.

Word Count: 4.1K (Oops) (Seriously did not mean for it to be this long.)

Note: There is minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

ENJOY!

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

It was raining and you were having a bad day. You weren’t having a bad day because it was raining, you actually liked standing in the rain, feeling the cool water drip down your face and through your clothes made you feel alive in the best way. It was difficult to find things that made you feel alive, especially after two months in the zombie apocalypse.

You considered yourself lucky, the first day everything went to hell you had slept through it. Pulling a double at the hospital downtown knocked you out and you woke up to the screams and the pounding of feet in the hall of your apartment building.

By then the phones were gone, electricity to the city had been cut off and you were hopelessly alone. Not unwelcome, due to the fact that it had been you on your own since your father had died a year earlier, but still acute enough for you to notice. It took you a week to leave your apartment to try and scavenge for food, even then you were not ready for the carnage that waited on the streets of Atlanta. After another week you realized that you needed to get out, it was too dangerous to be there. The military had failed and there was nothing left for you in the city. So you packed your backpack and said goodbye to your old life. Finding the cabin outside Atlanta was fortuitous, especially after you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. That being said when you found it originally, it had its quirks. No windows, a door that hung off its hinges, blood stains on the wooden floors, and no running water all made the cabin less than ideal.

But after two months it was home.

You sigh to yourself as you reset the trap, hiding it underneath the wet dead leaves as rain dripped from the treetops above. Someone or something was getting into your traps. It was the third time in a week it had happened and you were starting to get annoyed. You suspected it was a walker, since you continued to find bits and pieces of squirrel in the forest around the trap.

You continue your trek in the half-circle one mile out from the cabin. It was a nice spot, dense forest with a small creek that ran through, small enough to cross, but enough water that you didn't have to worry about going any further to find it. The only time you left the cabin was to scavenge, but that took a few days of preparation.

Rain pattered softly over the fallen leaves, weaving in and out of the canopy above, and kissing your skin. Being alone never bothered you before, but the thought that you might be the last person on earth was different. It was one thing to choose to be alone, another thing to be forced into it.

The sound of shuffling and sliding leaves makes you pause, ears peeled. You did not see too many walkers where you were and figured that because you were in the middle of nowhere there weren't enough people to turn.

The shuffling gets louder and you duck behind one of the trees, drawing your pistol from the belt at your waist. It was a gift from your father when you moved to Atlanta to start your residency. Target practice every week made you a good shot and helped blow off steam when shifts at the hospital were tough. Unfortunately, you hadn't been able to find many bullets, which prompted you to carry a hunting knife on the opposite side of your waist. The only ammo stores you found were stripped down and desolate. Sometimes you worried what would happen when you ran out.

You hear the heavy exhale of the walker as it continues through the woods behind the tree where you are hiding. You peer around the tree trunk, watching it shuffle along. It's wearing dark clothes, blood dripping from its side as it hunches over and travels away from you. A crossbow is strapped along it's back at an awkward angle and every step it releases a heavy exhale.

You click off the safety. Probably the same walker that's been eating all my squirrels. You think to yourself as you aim the gun at the back of the walker's head and take in a deep breath. But just as you pull the trigger, the walker stumbles to the left and the bullet scrapes along the outside of the walker's skull.

Shit.

As it falls, it hits its head on a tree stump and lies still, face down. You come out from behind the tree cautiously, replacing the pistol at the holster on your waist and pull out the hunting knife. The walker doesn't move.

Okay. I can do this. I can do this-

You tap it with your boot. It groans once, but doesn't make an attempt to get up. Wait. If its groaning and not moving is it not-

You bend down and grab the back of the walker's shirt, avoiding the crossbow to roll it over, and suddenly realize, it's not a walker, it’s a man.

SHIT.

"Hello?" You poke his chest once, twice, but he doesn't respond. "Um- Sir? Are you okay? Can you speak?"

Why did I just call him sir?

The man groans softly, but does not open his eyes.

SHIT.

You hadn't run into many people in the apocalypse. Saw them from afar, but never approached one. Your father had instilled in you that desperate situations bred a new kind of person. No one could be trusted. The one time you had run into a group, you learned that the hard way. You shake it off and look down at the man on the ground.

He's covered in a layer of dirt and grime, a necklace of walker ears hangs over his dark green tank top, a large hunting knife hangs from his waist next to a child's doll, and blood soaks through the side of his shirt.

Why does he have a doll? Is he like one of those truckers on the highway that has a teddy bear strapped to the front of their semi? Because that's kind of weird.

You stepped closer to examine where the blood has stained his shirt along his side. He's really hurt.

You raise your head to look around the forest around you. He doesn't have a pack, his camp must be nearby. Which means that there might be others that come looking for him.

You look back down at the man where the bullet scraped through his hair, watching the blood trickle down the side of his head. You think about leaving him there. I don't know him. I can just walk away no harm done-

You bite your lip. I can't do it. I can't leave him here. You curse your conscience. Now I just have to haul him the entire mile back to my cabin, without waking him up or hurting him.

Great.

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

Dragging him back to the cabin through the woods and up the front steps took over an hour. You were too afraid to drag him back quickly, afraid that it would do more harm than good especially because you were unsure how bad the wound on his side was. He hadn't woken up, a bad sign, but you were optimistic.

Guilt momentarily fills your chest. You wouldn’t have shot him if you knew he was still alive. You probably would have just let him go on his merry way. But then you think about how he stumbled.

If I let him go, how far would he have gotten? Maybe me taking him is better than the alternative.

Staring at him laying on the hardwood floor made you wonder if this was a bad idea. You didn't know him. He might have a group somewhere and he might be faking to find out where you lived.

If he is faking he is certainly committed. You mused gazing down at him again.

He was older than you, by a few years at least, with brown hair that stuck out in different directions. Your eyes sweep his clothes, nose wrinkling at the strand of walker ears around his neck. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt and dead blood. You had taken great care with his crossbow, setting it down on the small wooden table that you usually ate at, noticing how clean it was.

He must really care about it.

You couldn’t help but notice how small the man looked laying on the floor. And it made you feel more guilty about shooting him.

You walk away to get your medical bag, it was on the makeshift kitchen counter on the right back wall. The cabin was one room, in one corner there was a giant cabinet filled with whatever cans you could salvage, in another there was a wooden counter with a non-working sink, a small fireplace sat on the left wall, and in another there was a small twin sized bed covered in mismatched blankets. You had been prepping for winter, moving further and further into town to salvage what you could and storing chopped wood against the inside wall by the fireplace. The thought of winter scared you more than you’d care to admit. Especially with the squirrel traps giving less and less each day.

I wonder if this is the person stealing all my squirrels. You frown to yourself. Maybe I shouldn't help him.

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea. Granted I also would have that reaction if I woke up in a strange place.

"I'm a doctor. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You collapsed and I noticed you were bleeding."

He backs up towards the door without turning around, eyes wild, body tense, ready to spring.

"Wait please. I feel really bad-"

The guilt is back now as you look at the scrape along his head and the blood soaked shirt.

"Why?" The man narrows his eyes.

"Because I-" You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. "I thought you were one of those things and I shot you. I'm sorry."

"You shot me?"

"Yes. I mean, you stumbled at the last second and I missed, but I'm also pretty sure that you hit your head pretty hard."

"What?"

"It felt wrong to leave you there.”

“I don’t need your help.” He spits.

“You’re probably right.” Your hands are still palm up in front of you. “But I thought it would be stupid if you survived this long with those things out there and then died from an infection. That's pretty pathetic." You smile sheepishly at your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn't smile.

Well the good news is if he leaves I'll never see him again, and I'll be able to forget about this entire awkward exchange. Who am I kidding? It’s going to haunt me at night, right up there with the time I tripped and ate it on the way to the microphone at my 8th grade talent show.

"I don't want your help." The man says again as he turns to go, but groans when he feels the muscles on his side strain with the movement.

"Please." You breathe. "It'll take ten minutes then you can leave and we never have to see each other ever again."

His eyes are still narrowed. They skate across your body sizing you up. “Are you alone?”

The question makes a cold shiver travel down your spine. It's the question that made you avoid other survivors, the question that made you tie your hair up under a hat, wear oversized clothes to hide your body, and a scarf to hide the bottom half of your face.

“If I say yes are you going to attack me?” Your throat is thick when you ask it.

He shakes his head.

You watch him curiously, but even though he’s pointing a crossbow at your chest you don’t think he’s lying. “Then yes.”

The man stands there for another few seconds. “Five minutes.”

“Fine."

He makes no move to lower the crossbow.

"Is it okay if I move or are you going to shoot me?" You raise an eyebrow.

The man sighs and finally lowers the crossbow, which you take as confirmation that you can pick up your medical bag.

What am I doing? I should have just let him leave. You think to yourself, watching the way his eyes dart around the cabin.

You both stand there awkwardly for a second. “You can just sit on the bed. It'll probably be easier than the chair.”

He sits down, but places the crossbow next to him on the bedside table, as if preparing for you to attack him.

You tried to remember the training you had for dealing with unwilling patients. Of course when that happened the hospital let them leave, but you didn’t want him to leave. You felt guilty for shooting him and you felt guilty for dragging him all the way here. And despite not knowing him, you were worried.

He could barely move without it hurting, what would happen if he left? One of those things were sure to get him on the way back wherever he came from.

You pull up a chair, so close to him that your knees are almost touching, and place the bag on your lap, looking through for your supplies.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over an hour. Took me a while to drag you here. You’re heavier than you look.” You smile up at him, but he continues to frown.

“Are you really a doctor?”

“Why would I lie about that?” You shuffle through the bag, placing the supplies on the bed.

“I don’t know.” He shifts. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“No. You're just-“

You wait for him to think of it, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Okay.

“This is going to hurt just for a second.” You soak the cloths in the antiseptic and raise one to the side of his head. The man flinches away from your touch with narrowed eyes. “For this to work I’m going to need to touch you.” You say softly with a gentle smile. You were under the impression that he wasn't mean, rather he just wasn’t used to other people.

He leans forward, looking away from you to give you access to the side of his head. Your left hand brushes away the strands of hair from where the bullet scraped along his head, dabbing with the cloth along the shallow wound. You were happy to note that it didn’t need stitches, but you still wanted to clean it out. The man doesn’t wince when the cloth touches his skin.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He waits a beat. “Daryl.”

You continue to clean along the wound, concentrating on getting as much blood and dirt away from the opening.

“Have you been out here alone this whole time?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“No.”

Guess he doesn’t say a lot.

When you finish with his head, you start to reach for his shirt, but Daryl jumps hand twitching towards the crossbow.

“It’s okay." You smile at him. "I want to look at your side. If you could just take off your shirt-"

“No.”

“But I have to see it-“

He frowns at you. Finally, Daryl pulls up his shirt only enough for you to see the wound on his side, but no further. Just under the cloth of his shirt where it stops, you see remnants of pink scar tissue.

You try very hard not to look at the pink scar tissue, but you were curious. Was that why he didn't want me to take off his shirt?

He’s not looking at you. In fact the only time he made eye contact with you was when he was holding the crossbow.

“You might need to lie down for this one.”

Daryl eyes you again, before finally he lays down on his side, still not looking at you. The wound on his side is deeper, two piercings that go from the front of his abdomen and through to his back.

Did he shoot himself with the crossbow? How is that even physically possible?

“What happened?”

“Fell.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to need to pour the antiseptic in this one and it's going to hurt. You can hold my hand if you want.” You put your left hand on the bed as a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.

Or not.

As soon as the liquid touches his skin, Daryl fists his hand in the mountain of blankets, clenching his teeth together.

“I know I’m sorry.” You can't help but touch his arm and he flinches back away from you. “But now it’s clean and you don’t have to worry about infection.” You go through the motions with the stitches, pulling the needle through the skin smooth and steady, surprised that Daryl does not react to the needle. You reach for a bandage to cover the affected area. "Okay, so keep this clean, don't raise your arm up too high or the stitches will rip, change the bandage in a day or so. I'm going to give you one to take with you. Do you want some painkillers? I think I have some in here somewhere."

"No."

"Okay." You stand up and move out of his way so that he can get up from the bed, before beginning to look through the bag for a spare bandage.

Daryl stands there for a minute with his crossbow dangling from his right hand as if he's not sure what to say.

"Here." You hold out a bandage.

"Don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

Daryl nods once.

"Well if you rip your stitches or decide you want another bandage, you know where to find me." You can't help but smile at him.

As much as you were afraid of him at first, you couldn't help but like the interruption in the monotony of your day. And despite his gruff exterior, you liked talking to him. Which was surprising given the fact you hadn't liked talking to anyone else in the past.

He doesn't say anything, instead he starts to walk to the door of the cabin, but he stops. "Thanks." Daryl doesn't look away from the door.

"You're welcome. Be careful out there."

And then he's gone, leaving you in the still silence of the cabin once more.

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

The next few days pass as they usually do. You check the traps, scavenge for water, read a book by the fireplace at night, but every time you leave the cabin you hope to see Daryl again, hope that he'll come back because he needed that bandage or maybe will just come by to sit in utter silence.

That last bit seemed the most in character.

You didn't want to admit to yourself how disappointed you were in the silence that followed his exit. Not because he spoke that much, but even his presence in the cabin made whatever this was easier. Before you relished in the fact that you were alone, but now after you met him, it felt too quiet.

However, you had noticed more dead in the area over the past few days and that made you worry.

What if Daryl never made it back to wherever it was he was going? What if he had gotten attacked as soon as he left? You tried not to think that, because Daryl looked capable enough to survive in the apocalypse. Definitely seemed capable when he held a crossbow to your face.

You jolt awake to the sound of someone frantically knocking against your door.

What?

You tighten your hand on the hunting knife under your pillow before you sit up in bed. Maybe I dreamed that.

Someone kicks open the front door of your cabin.

Definitely didn't dream that.

A ball of fear lodges in the back of your throat as you grab the gun on your bedside table, holding it up between you and the dark figure standing just inside the doorway.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice shouts.

"Daryl?" You lower the gun watching the dark figure turn to barricade the door.

"We have to go."

"Daryl what's wrong-" As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you hear the moaning and shuffling of the dead followed by the pounding of hands against the door.

Fear makes your entire body freeze. You had been in Atlanta long enough to watch the chaos, watch what happened in the streets, the memories of what you saw keeping you awake more than one night, memories of the masses of bodies swarming survivors and the ungodly screams that followed.

"We gotta go.” He grabs your wrist and hauls you out of bed.

In case of an emergency like this, you always slept fully dressed. You clip your belt around your waist before putting the gun back in the holster and throwing your oversized jacket on over your t-shirt. Your pack is on the floor by the back door. The medical bag is small enough to shove inside the black backpack.

“Come on!” Daryl grabs your hand and pulls you out the back door, dragging you through the woods behind him.

You glance over your shoulder. The moonlight above illuminates the mass of walkers that surely would have destroyed the small cabin and you inside.

He came back for me. The thought makes a surge of gratitude warm in your chest. He didn't even know me and he was willing to fight his way through dead infested woods to save me.

Daryl shoots one that stands in your way, glancing behind him to see the mass of walkers that follow, before letting go of your hand and reloading the crossbow.

“Where are we going?” You shout running behind him, gun drawn.

“Up ahead-“ He responds over his shoulder.

You break out of the tree-line onto a road, where a motorcycle waits haphazardly on the edge of the long grass.

He jumps on the motorcycle revving the engine once, looking up at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate. You kick your leg over the side and wrap your arms around his waist to secure yourself. Daryl's muscles tense as you do, but the motorcycle shoots off, the sound of the engine masking the moans and shuffles of the dead emerging from the trees behind you.

You drive for a few miles, far enough that you put your face into Daryl's back to block the onslaught of wind that comes up over the road.

As soon as Daryl hits the interstate he weaves through the broken cars, before finally parking in the median. The world sounds quieter without the roar of the motorcycle, you notice as the smooth silence of the night returns.

"Why did you come back for me?" You ask him, as you get off the seat before you can stop yourself.

Daryl lights a cigarette, not meeting your eye. "You helped me."

"After I shot you."

"You missed." He shrugs.

You snort. "I did." You look out over the desolate interstate where cars are haphazardly parked and empty luggage cases spew clothing onto cracked pavement. "So what now?"

Daryl blows out a lungful of smoke. "You could-" He stops.

"What?"

"Well." Daryl shifts his feet, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Daryl?" You try to catch his eye worried that he's going to tell you to go away, that he's going to say goodbye right here right now.

"My group is supposed to meet up here." He doesn't meet your eye. "If you want you could come with us, but you don't have to." In the moonlight you swear you see his ears turn pink.

"Well," You sigh looking around. "How else am I going to repay you for saving my life? Might as well stick around."

"We're even."

"No. I think saving someone from zombies trumps suturing a wound. Plus, somebody's got to make sure you don’t shoot yourself with your crossbow again."

Daryl frowns. "I didn't shoot myself with my crossbow."

"I think that you did and that you're too embarrassed to say anything. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

He continues to frown at you, but it only makes you smile wider.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

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

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, be sure to read "Your Fault!"

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl x y/n #twd fanfics

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digitaldiarystuff · 3 months

Text

Celebrity Crush

pairing: Fermin Lopez x Y/N

summary: you are asked a question about your celebrity crush while with Fermin and he doesn’t feel good about your answer

genre: angst to fluff

————

“Let’s play a game!” Gavi screamed having a little too much to drink. He was being funny tonight.

You looked at Fermin trying to see if he’s in. He felt your eyes on him and turned to you smiling ear to ear. He squeezed your hand and kissed the back of it. Tonight was first in a while, since Fermin had a lot on his plate you couldn’t really go out and have fun like any other 20 year olds.

“Juguemos!” Pedri chimed in while dropping one arm around you and one around Fermin, you formed a circle on the ground around the coffee table. There were roughly 12 of you and everyone cheered truth or dare.

It was going incredibly fun, Pablo had to discard his shirt while Ferran had to kiss Sara and Sophia and Balde spent 7 minutes in heaven, just then, the bottle spun in Fermin’s direction.

“Ooh Fermin, what should I make you do?” Pedri said while putting his hands together in a playful manner.

“He should strip.” Gavi said while laughing hysterically.

“No he should not.” you said making everyone laugh.

“Someone’s jealous.” Sophia added making you realize you said it out loud. Your cheeks turned bright red.

“I’m not!” you exclaimed but in reality, you were. You didn’t like to share.

“It’s okay baby, you know I’m all yours.” Fermin turned to you and said but he was also laughing at your possessiveness.

The game continued a few more rounds until the bottle turned your way and Sara was supposed to ask you a question.

“Um, let me think. Oh I got it, who’s your celebrity crush?” she asked in a high pitched voice.

“Theo James.” you answered truthfully without missing a beat. Everyone around you cheered and just then you realized you may be a little too quick. You blushed again and turned to Fermin for some reassurance just to see him look the other way without any emotion on his face. You were startled by his reaction but since the game was still going on, you didn’t want to ask him in front of everyone.

Throughout the game, you tried to hold Fermin’s hand and talk to him like you did all night but all you got in return was side eyed looks and some light hand holding. Something was definitely wrong and you knew it was probably about your answer but Fermin always knew your fondness of Theo James and he never had a problem. So why was this an issue now?

The game wrapped up after a while and it was probably for the best because you suddenly weren’t in the mood anymore. Fermin’s mood change really affected you and you were a little annoyed at him, being cold in front of your friends was something you’d never want but luckily, everyone was drunk.

You decided to give him some space to cool down and went into the kitchen to get a drink. You also needed to take a moment.

“Are you ready to go?” Fermin suddenly appeared beside you.

“Yeah, let me just get my bag.” you coldly responded and said your goodbyes separately. The air was thick between you while you waited at the gate for your taxi.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you finally asked because you couldn’t deal with this coldness anymore.

“Nothing.” he simply answered but this was classic Fermin, he shut down whenever you had a fight and never told you what was bothering him until something made him snap.

“Fermin, seriously? How many times do you think we have to have a discussion about you not being open with me?” It was bothering you so much that he just left you in the dark.

“I don’t want to talk about it Y/N just drop it.”

You walked around him to be face to face because he wasn’t even looking at you while talking. You came to the same level and held his hand.

“Fermin, you know I love you right?”

“And I love you.” he said slowly looking up to you, his eyes clearly softening with your sudden admission of love.

“Then you need to tell me what’s wrong? Did I hurt you without knowing? Was it something about my answer?” you pressed and he immediately looked away.

“Do you think I’m not famous enough?” he suddenly asked making you confused.

“What?”

“Don’t you think I’m a celebrity? Sara asked you about your celebrity crush and you didn’t say my name and I know you like him but I thought you liked me better.” he started ranting about him not being famous in your eyes and you stood there trying to understand what he means.

“Baby, of course you’re famous you play at the most prestigious club. You’re a young superstar. I just- you know these questions, they mean like someone you don’t know but would like to know. You’re not my celebrity crush you’re my actual crush, and my handsome boyfriend and my favorite person. I’m sorry I never thought of it like that.” you said with a little smile.

“Also, it’s okay baby, you know I’m all yours.” you quoted him from before making him smile.

He squeezed your hand and pulled you closer hugging you. His face was in your hair while you mumbled how much you loved him and you also may promised to show just how much you crushed on him once you get home. He was suddenly full of energy and looked around the road.

“Where’s that taxi when you need it?”

You laughed at his reaction.

“Well just check when it’s coming.”

“Wait, you didn’t call a taxi?” he turned to you.

“No, I thought you did.”

“Oh fuck no I need to get home.” he suddenly said and flagged down a random taxi, you just giggled and went along with him wondering how you got so lucky.

————

this was a lovely request and i’m not sure about how i feel about it, please let me know your thoughts 💖 also thanks for reading

#football #football imagine #football x reader #football x y/n #football oneshot #football x you #football blurb #football one shot #fc barcelona #football fluff #football angst #fermin lopez fluff #fermin lopez angst #fermin lopez blurb #fermin lopez one shot #fermin lopez x you #fermin lopez imagine #fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez

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everythingne · 3 months

Text

wing damage - mv1 [2]

Max spends the weekend with you to hopefully lift your spirits. A night out leads to a bit more than both of them are expecting as feelings easily resurface and are created with the assistance of being blackout drunk.

max verstappen x influencer!horner!reader

fc: sophia la corte

warnings/notes: implied blackout drunk sex (towards the middle), very suggestive scene (towards the middle), drinking in general, allusions to coping via alcohol, max and nadine made bad decisions (also a reminder the readers nickname is nadine and is used as placeholder for y/n!) also not me coming back over a MONTH later with part two <3 i hope these feeds u

(part one)

It takes two rings for Max to answer my call.

I feel a little desperate when I ask if he can swing by my apartment, knowing he wasn't quite back in Monaco yet. He says he's stopping by the store, voice muffled by the wind, and that he'll be over in thirty or so minutes. The apartment is too quiet and I take the time it takes for him to get here to clean up my mess from the past few days of rotting in the suffocating silence of my apartment.

Without Jacob I felt weird. Lost. Like there should be something there, but I'm met with quiet. But, I guess that's what happens when the person you've lived with for years is suddenly dead to you.

The loneliness I had expected has arrived, even with two roommates. I've isolated myself far away from them.

Max knocking on the door brings me out of my thoughts and I grab the door handle moments later, swinging it open nervously as greeting him as cherrily as I can.

Being immediately brought into a hug by Max lets me know I didn't do a good job.

"C'mon. Pop open this wine, throw on Legally Blonde." He hands me a bottle and grins at me, squeezing my wrist before bringing inside a pack of sodas in one hand and a blanket and bag of snacks in his other hand.

“For you," Max holds out the blanket with one hand, "I was on the phone with your dad when you asked if I could swing by, so I asked Geri for her best post-breakup gift and she made me go buy… everything that’s in this bag plus the blanket—minus the drinks."

I find myself laughing out a thank you, taking the world’s softest blanket into my hands and promptly smacking my face into it.

“God, my mom is a saint.” I mutter into the fabric, before throwing it over my shoulders and bringing him inside. Max kicks off his shoes at the door, tucking them next to my heels from going out to party the past few nights.

"Looks like you've been having fun." He chimes and I shrug, sitting at my kitchen island and leaning on the counter. Max pauses when he notes me not leaning into his playful attitude and a small pout forms at his lips.

“I have the dough for pasta out to thaw,” I say over my shoulder to him as he follows and sits next to me—laying the bag of treats and the sodas on the counter. He just nods in response and we lapse into silence as he looks at me and tries to figure out how to approach this. When we'd been in the paddock, he'd be so angry I was surprised his head didn't burst into flames, but now that it was just us in a much more subdued moment, I could tell big bad Mad Max Verstappen didn't know what to do.

“Hey,” he says after a few moments, leaning over to squeeze my knee in a motion so similar to my father I wondered if he picked it up from him. I hum in response and Max's eyes flicker around the room before settling on me.

“Uhm. Jacob was a jackass. He shouldn’t have done that to you, and he…he’s a dick. I’m not very good at comforting people but if you ever need to just…vent or let off steam. Yeah. I’m here.” he folds his hands into his lap, partially leaning towards me.

I can’t help the little smile that breaks across my lips and I nod, “yeah…thank you, Max.”

"Now come on," He grabs me by the waist and hoists me up, resulting in a high-pitched laugh to echo from my throat. He grabs the blanket and throws it over me once again, before he snags the bag of treats and moves to the couch. He sets me down gently, which I'm thankful for, before he throws himself down next to me and grabs the remote.

"Are we watching the first or second Legally Blonde?" He asks, letting me rest my head on his chest as I toss the blanket over us both.

"The first." I hum, "Not feeling very Elle Woods patriotic today."

"We can watch that tomorrow." Max hums and I look at him briefly. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, shifting so he can pull me to his chest as he says, "What? You think I'm just gonna leave you alone while both of your roommates are out this weekend? Nah, you're stuck with me."

I laugh softly, finding a blush forming on my cheeks and I snuggle in as close as physically possible, "I don't mind being stuck with you at all."

thenadinehorner made a new post!

Around midnight Max and I make the pasta, because my apartment is too cold for the dough to thaw, I end up ditching the completely homemade idea and just use pre packaged noodles. We've decimated the first wine glass, and thats when I find my courage to ask,

"Do you wanna go out tomorrow?"

Max turns to look at me out of the corner of his eye, stirring the pasta into the mix of lemon, alfredo, and cilantro in the pan and he narrows his eyes, "How much have you been drinking this week?"

"I just broke off a several year relationship, Max." I sigh, "Come on, tell me you don't wanna go party!”

"Didn't answer my question." Max turns to me, looking over with a tiny grin and I groan, moving to press my chin to his shoulder and blink up at him in my wine haze.

"Past seven nights? Four days, including tonight. But come on, I've never seen you party in person!" I take another sip of my wine and he laughs softly, lifting to plate out the pasta for the both of us.

"Fine, but don't tell you father I'm taking you out. He'd probably kill me with his bare hands for even letting you drink alcohol with me." Max laughs softly and I laugh as well, happily taking the plate of pasta from his hands.

"Oh come on, he practically treats you like a son." I slurp up some of the pasta and groan, rolling my eyes back at the taste. Max watches me and I notice his smile wobble as he turns his head away, choking out a laugh.

"Yeah, but you're his daughter, that's like... a line." He hums, holding a hand over his mouth as he speaks with food in his mouth, and I narrow my eyes at him. I shrug, swallowing some of my wine and walking back over to the couch as I glance at Max over my shoulder,

"I'd cross it." I say. Though, I don't know what I mean when I say it, or how far I would cross that line. But it riles Max up enough for me to choke on the pasta and sputter out a reply,

"No, no," I wave a hand, "I mean, like I'll cross the line and go to the club."

"Oh, good—Okay, Christ." Max laughs, sitting down next to me and taking a good sized bite of his pasta. We leave the other bottle of wine for another day. Maybe to pregame tomorrow.

nadi.h.jpg made a new post! (private!)

liked by blubellhals, oliviahorner, danielricciardo, and 204 others...

nadi.h.jpg: IM SO DRUNK!!!

tagged: maxverstappen

danielricciardo: OH GOD.

landonorris: u ok hon?

bluebellhals: NADINE HORNER. (u look sexy but CALL ME GIRLIE?)

oliviahorner: OH MY GODDDD AHAHAHAH MAX CHUGGING THE FUCKING BOTTLE IMC RYINGGG

charlesleclerc: oh my god???

carlossainz: OH?? estas borracha ??!!

"Nadi!" Max laughs, dragging me by the elbow down the nearly empty London roads. I giggle and cling to his arm before he scoops me up, considering I'd given him my heels long ago to carry.

"Max!" I giggle back, pressing my cheek to the side of his head as he situates me in a hold against his chest. He laughs and half presses me to the wall so he can fiddle with the keys to my apartment building, and then when he gets it, he lifts me so I'm over his shoulder.

"How are you doing this blackout drunk?" I slur and giggle, kicking my legs in my short dress as one of his hands comes to cover my rear from poking out. He takes a few tries to hit the right floor on the elevator as he sways,

"I'm so fucking drunk I have no idea." He laughs back, his hand absentmindedly squeezing me a bit when I slip and I let out a little gasp that makes him chuckle, "Ay, don't get any ideas alright? Just making sure you don't fall and die."

"Aw, you care." I laugh as the elevator dings and he brings me out and to my room. When we get there he sets me down and helps me out of my jacket before I do the same to him, my scattered mind letting my hands linger a bit too long on his sides.

"We're already gonna be hungover when we wake up," I hum, trailing my fingers along his ribs, since I can feel them on his sides through his shirt, "We can have more wine, right?"

"You don't need more," Max laughs, resting his hands on my hips, "I don't either, I'll end up vomiting."

"Ew!" I giggle, leaning into him for support in the tiny hall. His hand rests on the entry table to balance himself as he wraps his arm tighter around me, I blink up at him and watch the way his eyes flicker around my skin. His eyes lower to my lips and I feel my breath hitch, I step closer until theres no more space and look through my lashes before tilting up and grinning at him with a drunken giggle.

"Like what you see, Maxie?" I hum, sliding my hands up his sides until wrapping them around his back, nails slightly scratching through the thin white shirt as I tilt my head at him in tease.

"Oh, don't do this to me." He groans, eyes rolling and shutting tight as he lets out a breathy sigh, "Don't do this to me, Nadi."

"Do what?" I question with genuine concern, watching as he opens his eyes and his grip tightens partially. He's in my space, nose almost touching mine, but he's not invading me. Infact, I'd let him stay here forever.

"You know you are a line I can't cross." He murmurs, lips ghosting mine and I want to connect us so bad but when I tilt forward he pulls back and groans in the back of his throat. I hate the way it makes a flame ignite in my stomach. I'd never seen Max like this, but yet in the past four years I'd been infatuated with the guy who broke my heart.

"I don't want you to do this and regret it." He whispers, "Because I've loved you for a very long time, and if you let me do this, it won't be good for either of us. And we're drunk as shit, so I'm not thinking straight and I doubt you are too."

"You're a very coherent drunk." I hum and Max snorts, watching me sway in place as the world swirls around me.

"Thanks, it's the trauma." He says and I laugh, pitching into him hard enough he stumbles. Pushing me the other way so I don't fall, he catches me against the entry way table, his hands on either one of my hips and holding me tight to make sure I stay put.

Was he always this attractive, or was I just stupid drunk?

"Y/n." Max whispers out a whine of my birth name, all it does it make my breath hitch and my heart thrum as he brings a hand to my throat and feels my pulse under his thumb. I close my eyes, rolling them as he pulls me in with that hand, ghosting his lips along the edge of my jaw.

I find enough courage to whisper, "But what if I said yes, hm? I don't have a problem with doing this with you."

"Do you know how many times I've imagine this exact moment?" He growls against the skin of my neck, teeth nipping at the skin with each word he breathes out heavily against my perfume covered skin. I bring a hand to the back of his head, bump his teeth into the skin, and to my delight he bites.

"Fuck." I whisper, "we can't."

"Oh, but you just said we could," Max lifts his head from my neck, eyes meeting mine, his hand dips and I flutter at the feeling of him tracing a tiny shape into the inside of my thigh. He indents it with his nail, leaving a crescent as he whispers, "didn't you, sweetheart?"

As he accentuates his words with a soft kiss to soothe the bite, his fingers skim the edge of my skirt and tug to lift it up a bit higher. I bite my lip and he uses a thumb to my chin to pull it back out, capturing me in a slow kiss as his hands drop back down to my thighs to pick me up, setting me on the entry table.

He kneels, looking up at me with those big eyes and he asks permission, and my hands find his hair as I nod and that stupid cocky grin splits across his lips and makes my heart tumble into his hands.

Thank god my roommates are gone.

I wake up with a splitting headache and a bout of nausea that makes me almost lose it over the side of my bed. I don't remember much past leaving the club when I'd started to get super drunk and force myself to sit up to check the time.

And then I realize I am very much not wearing clothes.

"Oh fuck." I hiss, turning to look around my empty room. Well, save for the familiar blonde man shaped lump next to me in bed.

Wait a fucking second.

"Oh my god!" I shout without thinking and the mass stirs, a soft mess of English and Dutch seeping from his lips. He pushes himself to his forearms and looks over, blinking before his face drops into the same horror I'd just gone through.

"Oh fuck." Is all he can manage, then there's a soft banging on my door and my step-mother's voice echoes through the apartment and Max brings a hand to his mouth as he groans, "Oh, I'm so dead."

"We both are! Get up!" I hiss under my breath, scrambling to get out of bed and curb my nausea as I grab the first big knit sweater and leggings in my hamper and throw them on while Max roots through his suitcase to find something to wear. I dip into the bathroom and throw my hair up to mostly hide its mess, luckily the sweater covers most marks left on my skin. When Max comes in I grab his face and squint at him through my hangover.

"If anyone asks, you slept on the couch, and I let you use my bathroom to get ready because the warm water isn't working in the guest bathroom." I hiss out and Max nods, a blush on his face as I slam the door shut and call out to my step-mom that I'm coming to answer. Making my way into the foyer, I scoop up the discarded clothing and astray items, tucking them into a bin by the door and quickly doing a once over of the main room of my apartment.

I needed to light a candle.

I unlock the door and pop it open, rubbing at my head and Geri chuckles at my clearly hungover state as she asks, "Bad time?"

"I'm so hungover I might throw up." I say and she nods, giggling as she continues with a slightly curious look in her eyes. I know she's trying to figure it out.

"You don't exactly sleep in until four in the afternoon for fun." She hands me a bag, "Max is still here I assume, he left these. Just stopping by to give them back."

"He's showering, yeah. Geri, if I saw you were coming I would've grabbed them so you didn't have to come up here." I laugh, taking the bag. When the collar of my sweater shifts, Geri's eyes flick down and she raises her eyebrows at me and it's that moment I know she's caught me.

"Don't say a word." I point and she raises her hands with a shocked laugh, nodding to me.

"I don't even want to know who gave it to you," She says looking away with red on her cheeks and a loud laugh, "I'm just gonna go, because if I'm here any longer your father might get impatient. Also you are an adult, and it’s none of my business!”

"Thanks, Ger." I run a hand through my bangs to smooth as best I can and Geri nods, flicking her eyes across my body with her new knowledge and stifling a laugh into the back of her hand. Part of me wants to reach over and whack her, but I refrain from letting my embarrassment get the best of me. She gives me a tight hug, wishes me well, and starts to walk away. Before I can shut the door, she calls my name over her shoulder and I poke my head out to see her standing in the elevator doors as she shouts,

"Tell Max to be a bit softer next time!"

And my response is a slam of my apartment door and a loud groan into the wooden material it's made of. I step back and turn to see Max poke his head out of the doorway of my bedroom.

"Just Geri, this is yours." I say, walking over to him and setting the bag into his hands, "and..."

"I'm sorry." He sighs, running a hand through the front of his now wet hair. I try to ignore how much I want to do the same thing. I swallow it down and bury it as far as I can. He's twenty seven, not much older but enough for my father to raise an eyebrow. I was only twenty two, barely so.

"I'm just as much at fault, it takes two to tango, y'know." I hum and he huffs out a laugh, and despite myself I say, "if it makes you feel better, even if it was a stupid decision... I don't entirely regret it. Even if I don't remember it that much."

"I don't remember much either." He agrees, "can we just agree to not... ever, talk about this happening again?"

"Happily." I nod as I feel a weird sort of relief and embarrassment rush across my skin. I would happily pretend this had never happened. But when my eyes meet his, theres something within their depths that tells me this wouldn't be a one time hookup. Call me crazy, or horny, or whatever you want, but there was something that has shifted. Something new was settled between us, and Max and I would never be the same.

But we painfully would pretend to be. To save face.

taglist (thank u for ur support <3!)

@rosegasly @uuzhanggggggg @biitch-with-wifi @1655clean @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic

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icarusignite · 9 months

Note

Hey,

Could you imagine doing an Athelstan x reader. Where the reader is the daughter of Sihtric.

Maybe the reader could be the first child of Sihtric and his first wife (I know he only has one but his wife from the series could be the second). When his wife from the series met him, he left the readers mother and got together with his new wife. Unfortunately, the readers mother died shortly afterwards.

The reader's world collapsed but she still has her best friends Athelstan and Sophia, who is Finan's daughter. (I just like the name Sophia, I hope it's okay that Finan also has a daughter in this story. Of course you can change the name)

It would be cool if sihtric's new wife doesn't like the reader because she looks like her mother.

(So she is almost the evil stepmother, but the siblings are sweet)

Of course, Sihtric loves his daughter the reader more than anything but the reader distances herself because she blames him and his new wife for the fact that her mother is gone. Maybe she could also be jealous that sihtric also spends a lot of time with his other children and his new wife, because normally it was always only her and her father against the rest of the world.

Athelstan and the reader have always had feelings for each other. They didn't want to tell the other because they were afraid to destroy the friendship.

Sophia and the reader are like sisters, the two are inseparable and do everything together. When the reader was getting worse and worse, because she became more angry because of her father and their relationship got worse and worse, Sophia made a suggestion to go away. Sophia and the reader are both shieldmaiden and always wanted to travel over the world and make a name for themselves. Even if it is difficult for both to leave their family and Athelstan behind, they go away. Sophia, of course, finds it difficult to leave her father because she has no problems with him, but for the reader she would do it.

When the fight for Bebbanburg takes place after years and Sophia and the reader hear about it, they come to help. The two have a great army. The warriors and shieldmaiden wanted to follow them because they were impressed by their fighting skills.

In the end, there might be a conversation between the reader and Sihtric and that she tells him how she feels. And of course, Athelstan and the reader confess their feelings to each other, which became even stronger than they were not together.

I'm sorry it's so long but I wanted to write down all sorts of thoughts I hope you like it.

Your reader

Go ahead and cry, little girl

A/N: Heyyyyy, I am back from the dead. I am SUPER sorry for the massive delay. I've just been off Tumblr for a bit, but I am back. This is quite possibly the longest oneshot I've written so far lol. The Aethelstan bit doesn't quite start until the end but I do like how it turned out and I hope you like what I've done with your prompt <3 (could you tell that I was listening to Daddy Issues on repeat while writing this lmfao)

Disclaimer: I haven't watched the TLK movie (and I've been avoiding spoilers lol) so I have no idea what Aethelstan is like in that one, this is just based on what I know about him in season 5. Also, I was super done with this story by the time I was done with it so it's not really proofread. If you see any typos feel free to point them out so I can fix them lol, or just enjoy it as it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word Count: ~8k

Pairing: Aethelstan x Reader.

The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine and earth, invigorating the senses. In the heart of Rumcofa, a small clearing had been transformed into a makeshift training ground. Sihtric Kjartansson stood in the middle of the clearing, his battle-worn sword resting on his broad shoulder. Across from him stood his young daughter. Although you were only a young girl of seven winters, your hands tightly gripped the wooden sword in your hand as you stood tall, shoulders set and feet wide apart as you tried to copy your father's stance.

"Hold your sword higher, bend your elbows," Sihtric called out, circling you, and gently nudging you to correct your stance.

"Yes, Father," you nodded.

Once Sihtric was satisfied with your pose, he turned as if to walk away, only to lunge forward, swinging his sword with calculated precision. Your training sword met his attack, weapons clashing with a resounding thud. Father and daughter moved in harmony, your steps an intricate dance. SIhtric would feign an attack, allowing you to then parry and counter, your small frame mirroring your father's every move.

As the training session drew to a close, a beaming smile stretched across Sihtric's face, as pride swelled within him. He extended a calloused hand and ruffled your hair, affectionately mussing it.

"You fought well today, my little shieldmaiden," he grinned.

"Thank you, Father!"

The sounds of whoops and cheers filled the air. You turned your head toward the two children standing on the sidelines, watching you with keen interest as they clapped. There was Sophia, with her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders, bouncing on her toes as she waited for you to approach them. The mousy-looking boy standing next to her, Aethelstan, rolled his eyes but his shy smile as he met your gaze gave him away.

Once you were within a few paces, Sophia launched herself at you with a squeal of delight, throwing her arms around you.

"You were incredible!" she crowed. "You'll soon be even better than Aethelstan here."

Aethelstan scoffed, "She still has a long way to go before that."

You rolled your eyes, "You know I can kick your arse right now if I want, right?"

"Cannot!"

"Can too."

You stuck your tongue out at your friend, and he returned the gesture, causing Sophia to laugh.

Sihtric cleared his throat to interrupt the bickering, "Alright, alright kids, off you go. The hour grows late and your parents must be expecting you home."

"It's alright, Father knows where I am," Sophia responded cheerfully.

Sihtric chuckled, "Yes well I don't know about Finan, but Eadith will surely have my head if I don't send you back before dark. Off you go, you can see each other tomorrow."

Sophia gave you one last hug before departing, and Aethelstan settled on a wave of his hand which you mimicked. After they had gone, Sihtric took your hand, gently leading the way toward your own home.

"Did you see that, Father? Aethelstan denies it but I could definitely kick his ass, couldn't I?"

"Language, little one."

"You use it all the time Father."

"Ah yes, but you know your mother doesn't like it when you use words like that."

"Your mother doesn't like what?" came a frail voice from the doorway of your house.

You looked up to see your mother leaning against the wall, arms crossed and an affectionate smile playing on her lips. There were shadows under her eyes and her skin looked sickly pale but at least she was well enough to get out of bed today.

"Mama!" you let go of your father's hand to rush up to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face in her warm dress.

Your mother laughed, "And what was my mischievous girl up to today, hmm?"

"Father is teaching me how to spar. He says I'm getting better every day!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, she is," Sihtric came over to wrap an arm around your mother's shoulder and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled and leaned against him with a sigh.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"A lot better now that you're both here. Eadith was here earlier. She...she says that..." your mother sent a cautious glance your way.

"What did she say?" Sihtric prompted.

Your mother was quick to flash him a reassuring smile, "Nothing too noteworthy. All is well."

"If you say so."

"Now go wash up, both of you!" your mother laughed, pinching your cheeks and gently pushing Sihtric further inside the house. "You both smell awful!"

"Mother!"

"You know I love you darling, but you need a bath."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

You had never seen your mother this angry before. Her rage was a tangible thing, large and looming as she raged. The object of her wrath was your father, who stood there in your mother's room, eyes steeled with determination, even as she threw things at him.

"I-I can explain," Sihtric began, his voice faltering as he ducked to avoid the book she threw at his head.

"Explain?" your mother roared, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Is there any explanation for such treachery? After all these years of devotion, I am met with betrayal?"

Her normally gentle demeanour was replaced with a fiery fury that demanded attention. Her throat was raw and her voice cracked. Her eyebrows furrowed, knitting together in a mixture of anger and disbelief. The delicate curve of her lips, once known for only speaking words of grace and tenderness, contorted into a stern line, a testament to her righteous fury. Her complexion was paler than usual, and all colour drained from her face as tears streamed down, betraying her vulnerability.

You watched your parents argue from the doorway, eyes darting between them. Your hands clenched, nails digging into your palms hard enough to leave marks. You would have much rather left to be with your friends, but you stayed because you worried for your mother. Your parents were not the type to fight, not explosively like this anyways. Sure they had petty arguments, they were human after all, but those were always resolved soon after, with your father bringing your mother flowers and an apology that would coax a smile from her. You worried that they might not recover from this, and if they did not recover, you wondered how your mother would even survive it. She was already so weak. These were the thoughts that consumed you, as you watched silently. You did not even dare entertain the other thoughts that whispered at the edges of your mind, thoughts about your mother's allegations against your father.

"I offered you my love, my trust, and this is how you repay me?" your mother continued, her voice quivering with emotion. "You have shamed not only me but our entire family!"

"Listen-" Sihtric tried again, avoiding her eyes in shame.

"No you listen! If you wanted to be free to hump all the whores you liked, you shouldn't have married me. Now go. Go back to your harlot and do not let me see your face here!"

Sihtric's eyes widened with disbelief, "You...you do not mean that."

"Oh, I mean it with all my heart."

"It was a mistake. I swear it was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't."

Your mother's voice cracked with grief as more tears flowed from her stricken eyes. She suddenly rushed up to her husband, grabbed his chin with surprising strength and wrenched his face up to meet her gaze.

"It was not a mistake," she hissed. "You have already dishonoured me enough, do not make it worse by lying to me as well."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," was all he said, his voice small.

Your mother's hand fell away and she took a trembling step back.

"What was it then? What was it about me that was not enough for you? Was it my sickness? I admit that I have not had much energy for anything these past few months but-"

She was then unable to finish her sentence, a choked sob escaping her lips as she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

"Was I so awful that you had to seek out the company of another woman? Did you find my company that repulsive?"

"That...that's not true..."

"Get the fuck out of my house. I never want to see you again!"

Sihtric opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand, silencing him. His shoulders slumped, and with tears in his eyes, he turned away from her. He brushed past you on his way out and something in your heart cracked just then. You had to stop him somehow, you thought to yourself. You had to fix this. You had to fix them.

You sprinted after him, stopping him just as he was about to step out the door, tugging on his hand.

"Father..."

Sihtric's eyes softened as he took in your forlorn form.

"I-I'm sorry darling."

"Father, don't go. Please, please, please, don't go," you tugged on his hand more insistently, eyes beginning to well with tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologize to her. Please, just apologize. Say you didn't mean any of it. She'll forgive you, I just know she will, she loves you. Just, please don't go."

"I...I can't, I'm sorry."

"Is that all you can say?" your voice rose in frustration. "Is that all you can do? Apologize? If you're really sorry, you'd try to fix it! Please...please, please, please fix this."

Sihtric smoothed a hand through your hair, his touch tender. He brushed the tears from your cheeks and you shook him off angrily. You felt like you couldn't breathe and the walls were beginning to close in on you. Everything was falling apart and you had no idea how to fix it.

"Father, please. Please don't go. Please don't leave her, don't leave us."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

With one last solemn look and a pat on your head, he was gone, and as you stared dejectedly at his disappearing back, you felt as if the world had been pulled out from under your feet. You wondered if he'd ever return.

Suddenly, you were interrupted by a pained wail and your head snapped in the direction of your mother's room. Fear seized your heart as you hastily made your way back to her side. She was slumped on the floor, curled in a fetal position, hands wrapped around her knees as her body shuddered with sobs.

"Mama!" you ran to her side, gingerly putting your hand on her shoulder.

She didn't seem to acknowledge your presence, a low keening sound coming from her throat.

"Mama!" you shook her shoulder a little harder. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick? Should I call for someone?"

Your mother shook her head, still wailing. You waited a few moments, before wrapping your arms around her frail shoulders and helping her sit up. You were just smoothing her hair back when suddenly she turned her head to the side and retched, emptying the contents of her stomach right there on the floor of her chambers. She groaned in pain then, clutching her stomach wearily.

"Shhh, it's okay. You'll be alright, mother. Let's get you to bed," you whispered.

You had already put down your own grief, locking it away somewhere unreachable. You had to take care of your mother first, and you couldn't afford to be distracted. You allowed her to take deep shuddering breaths before wiping at her mouth with the back of your sleeve and helping her to get settled back in her bed. Almost all her weight slumped onto your small frame when you moved her, and you grunted with the effort. Then you ran to fetch a bowl of water to clean her face with, pressing a cold cloth onto her forehead to ease her suffering a little. She seemed to vibrate with pain and you didn't know if it was the emotional toll of your father leaving or the physical pain of her sickness.

Eventually, she drifted off to a troubled sleep as you continued to run your hands through her hair. You kissed her forehead and felt her relax a fraction and you felt your heart lift with hope. You left her side only to clean up the sickness from her floor, before returning to curl up in bed beside her, wrapping your arm around her waist as you held onto her tightly, as if afraid she'd disappear.

The next morning, she was running a fever. Her skin was scalding and she only opened her eyes for a few moments to mumble something incoherent to you before drifting off again. That is when the panic began to set in. You were just about to head out to fetch Eadith when she arrived at your door herself. She had a sympathetic smile and pitying eyes as she let herself in and set about checking up on your mother. She had heard about yesterday's commotion, almost everyone in Rumcofa had. It was a small town after all.

"She'll be alright in no time, love. Don't you worry about her, she is a very strong woman," she told you kindly.

You nodded, and then hesitantly, you asked her the question that had been plaguing your mind.

"Where's Father?"

Eadith's lips thinned, "He...he has gone with Uhtred and the others."

"Oh."

"I can stay here until your mother feels better," she offered. "You are much too young to care for her on your own."

You were just about to nod when your mother chose that exact moment to wake up.

"No!" she blurted out, her voice hoarse. "I-I would not want to impose."

Eadith squeezed her hand gently, "It would be no trouble at all. Please."

Your mother shook her head weakly, "It is just a little fever. I'll feel better in no time. You have children to take care of, and your husband isn't even home. You must go back to them. I'll be just fine."

"But-"

"Please," your mother pleaded. "I'm no invalid. I can take care of myself just fine. And besides, I have my darling here to keep me company."

She stretched out her hand which you took immediately, letting her pull you close.

Eadith looked unconvinced but after your mother insisted several more times, she nodded. She left you with a few herbs and medicines to give to your mother depending on her various symptoms and promised to return the next day to check up on the two of you.

"Mother..."

"Yes, my love?"

"You'll be alright, right?"

You were cuddled up next to her, but still, the house felt strangely empty. She felt like a wraith beside you, like she could leave any minute and then you'd truly be left alone. You could feel her bones through her thin nightgown and you clutched her tighter, as if you could hold her together.

"Of course, I'll be alright, my love," she pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Promise me. Promise me you'll be alright. That you won't leave me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't leave you for the world. You mean too mu-" her words were interrupted by a fit of coughs.

She pressed her sleeve to her mouth and it came away tinged with blood. She pulled it away quickly, folding the sleeve up so that you could not see and you pretended that you hadn't. The two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, with you reading to her as she swam in and out of consciousness. Every time her eyes would flutter open and see you, her face would relax and she'd kiss you, as if trying to impart a lifetime's worth of affection.

Her health took a turn for the worse later in the night. Her fever had greatly worsened and although you had given her all of Eadith's medicines, nothing seemed to help. She was still awake though, so that was some comfort.

"Let me go get Eadith please," you begged her.

"No. We will not bother her now. The hour is late and she said she'd come by tomorrow anyways."

"But Mother! You seem to be getting worse. Please, please you need to see someone!"

"I will not make a fuss at this hour. I'll be just fine. I just need to-"

A fit of hacking coughs overwhelmed her once again, blood pooling at her lips. She was too weak to hide it and instead allowed it to trickle down her chin. You wiped at it hastily, eyes filling with tears of frustration. You yearned to rush out and fetch someone right away, but your mother kept a vicelike grip on your arm.

"Mama, please," you begged again.

"I-no-"

She was having trouble breathing. You could tell. She sucked in air through her mouth and it rattled painfully in her chest. Every breath hurt her and all you could do was helplessly watch.

"You...you know I-I love you right?" she wheezed suddenly.

"What?"

"I...I said I love you, my darling girl."

"I love you too Mama," you whispered.

She pulled you close and you rested your head on her chest. She massaged your scalp with her fingers, whispering more sweet nothings into your ear. You felt her voice grow softer and her breathing slow down. Perhaps she'd sleep it off, you thought to yourself. Yes, she'd sleep off her fever and be right as rain in the morning. You entertained yourself with such thoughts as you drifted off as well.

You jolted awake sometime later in the night, some unknown panic clawing in your throat as you bolted out of bed.

Your mother had stopped breathing. You had felt it. You had felt the stillness of her next to you. You shook her, slowly at first, and then more frantically.

"Mama! Mama! Mama wake up!"

She remained listless, her limp frame rattling like a bag of bones as you shook her harder. Your pleas grew louder as well, your voice rising with every moment that passed.

"Mama, please. Please, please, please. Please don't leave me. You promised! Remember, you promised that you wouldn't leave me!" you screamed. "You can't break your promise. You'd be a bad mother if you broke your promise...please, I am begging you don't go."

Reality set in soon. Her skin had grown cold. It was clear that she had been gone for a while. You swore at yourself for not waking up sooner, for not going to someone for help earlier, for not doing something. Eventually, you slumped down, throat raw from screaming. The house was indeed empty now, and your mother was a wraith. Your grief was your only companion and it was a quiet needling thing, stripping you raw and ragged from the inside. you wanted to scream but no more sound would come out. You would have to fester in dark silence it seemed.

In a daze, you wondered if you should go get someone now. It made no sense to, not anymore. What could anyone do now? They'd just come to take her away and then you'd never see her again. You saw how what they did to the dead. They were often burned. Soon there would be nothing left of your mother but ashes. Your mouth tasted like ashes and you had the sudden urge to throw up. Seven years was not nearly enough time to spend with one's mother. You thought you'd have a lifetime.

You decided not to bother anyone then. You wiped your own tears and lifted the blankets to curl up next to your mother's body, clinging to her, perhaps to share your own warmth with her or perhaps hoping that she'd share her cold emptiness with you. At least then you would receive some relief from the burning agony that lit your heart. With broken syllables, you hummed your favourite lullaby to her, the one she always sang to you, and in that moment, pressed against her ribs, you could pretend that the hollow thud in your own chest came from hers instead.

You did not know how long you remained there, in the space between wakefulness and sleep, the space where dreams felt like reality and your mother's arms wrapped around you almost as tightly as yours were around her. You did not notice the sun rise in the morning or set again the next evening. The only thing that jolted you out of your reverie was the sharp knock on the door.

"Anyone home?"

It was a familiar voice.

"Hello? Sophia's mother sent me with some things," Aethelstan called out from the door, knocking again. "She apologizes for not being able to come herself but something urgent came up."

He said your name a few times too, puzzled at the lack of response.

You ignored him. There wasn't anything he could do either, and Eadith's medicines would not be of any use anymore. You burrowed deeper into your mother, raising the covers over your face. If you ignored Aethelstan for long enough maybe he'd leave, and then you could be alone with your mother again.

It worked for a while and no one else bothered you for the rest of the night. However, the next morning there was a larger commotion at the door. Several fists pounded on the door until eventually, they had to break it in. It gave way with a loud crack, and still, you did not acknowledge their presence. The loud voices were inside the house now, as they rummaged through all the rooms of the house, the heavy footsteps growing closer until they finally reached your mother's room. Still, you did not acknowledge their presence.

Someone said your name, softly at first, and then more insistent. You ignored them. Then suddenly, the covers were ripped off the bed. The sunlight accosted your eyes and you winced. Someone swore and the room burst with activity.

"By the gods, is she alright? Are they both-?"

It was your father's voice, you realized indifferently. He was finally back.

He said your name again, more insistently, and you shook your head listlessly, face still tucked into your mother's neck. That minuscule movement was enough though, to confirm that you were still alive. Strong arms peeled your mother's arms back to lift you out of them. It was at that moment when you truly came alive.

"NO!"

You screamed, a terrible ear-piercing shriek. They were your father's arms, as they pried you away from your mother and you shrieked even louder, flailing about desperately. You were downright feral, clawing and biting to get back to your mother.

"No. Let me go! Let me go back to Mama! I want Mama!"

Several other hands joined your father's in pulling you away. All your father's friends were there, Uhtred and Osferth, and even Sophia's father, Finan was there. They all looked at you with pitying eyes as you thrashed harder, body contorting wildly. Your mother's fingers were clutched tightly in yours and it took several minutes for them to peel you off.

"Don't take her away!" you howled. "She promised she wouldn't leave me! You can't take her away. She wouldn't break her promise, she's not a bad mother!"

"Shhh, darling, she's gone," it was Eadith's gentle voice that broke through your frenzy.

Sihtric handed your writhing form to her and you immediately slumped in her arms. You did not have the heart to bite and claw at her, not after all she had done. She smoothed her hands over your face gently.

"Oh, you poor darling girl. I'm so sorry, I should have come earlier," she mumbled softly.

The time after that was a blur to you as well, lost in your grief and rage. Your mother had only been dead a month before your father married again. You were almost certain it was the woman he had been seeing when your mother had caught him, but you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore. The true fury came when he moved her into your house. The house your mother had died in, the house that you had died in. At first, you refused to live with them. It would be a mockery to your mother's memory, to live in her house with your father and his new whore. That was what she was to you anyways, you never acknowledged her as his wife. Eventually though, even you felt bad imposing on Sophia's family. Despite Finan and Eadith repeatedly assuring you that you could remain with them forever if you wished, you allowed your father to take you home.

The next few days passed by in a haze and you barely recalled any of it. In the days leading up to and after your mother's funeral, you stayed with Eadith and her family. In any other circumstance, you would have been delighted to spend your days with Sophia, but you spent most of your days curled up in bed. You refused to eat anything, despite Eadith's best efforts and you never spoke a word. You especially refused to see your father, turning your head away from him every time he came to visit and speak to you.

The next few years passed by quickly as well. Once a lively and energetic child, you withdrew into yourself, but the silent simmering heat burning you from the inside remained. The only people who could ever draw smiles from you were Sophia and Aethelstan, and try they did. They had made it their collective mission to see you in happier spirits. You no longer took fighting lessons from your father, instead joining Sophia's lessons with Finan or Aethelstan's with Uhtred. The chasm between you and your father grew as he began to have more children with his new wife. You watched him be affectionate with them and the bitterness began to poison you from the inside out. You made your disdain for his wife very obvious and the feeling was mutual. You looked too much like your late mother for her to be comfortable in your presence. That paired with your constant reminders that she was the other woman and had only been able to acquire your father because your mother had died, meant that she went out of her way to make things difficult for you. As your father was often away fighting, she ran the household. She made you clean up after your younger half-siblings and do all the chores in the house. Often you escaped, slipping out to spend time with Sophia and Aethelstan, but that meant another screaming match when you returned home.

Despite your bitterness, you couldn't find it in your heart to hate your half-siblings. By the time you were twelve, you had three. Two brothers and a sister. Your brothers were timid and easy going while your sister was a spitfire. She reminded you of yourself sometimes, often when you sat down to brush the tangles and mud out of her hair as she returned from another grand escapade. You were afraid of yourself sometimes. You were afraid that the poison inside you would come spilling out and taint them. They were innocent, blameless in their conception, and you could not blame them for the sins of their parents. Still, the resentment was difficult to erase. Watching your father spend time with his new family, you felt like an outsider. it felt like watching someone else's happy family through the window, watching how the warmth lit up their eyes while the wind hollowed out your bones and filled your lungs with ice.

Your father was patient with you, painfully tender as if that would make up for what he did. He never raised his voice at you, even as you threw fits and screamed at both him and your stepmother in the first few years you lived with them. He was kind to you, just as he was with your half-siblings, but the distance was there. He'd avoid looking at you for too long because looking was a painful reminder of what he had lost. Everyone had always said that you were almost an exact carbon copy of your mother, and that was both a comfort and anguish. He treated you as if you were fragile, prone to breaking at any moment. You supposed you were. You felt it yourself sometimes as if you were on the precipice of doing something terrible, of releasing years' worth of resentment in one explosive moment. Your grief walked hand in hand with madness and buried things had an awful way of haunting you.

Your breaking point came when you were just shy of your fifteenth year. Your stepmother had made you scrub the entire house clean to prepare for your father's return from yet another fighting season. You had done just that, but after you had finished, your sister had run into the house, tracking in mud and debris from the outside. You hadn't been able to clean it up again in time and when your mother returned from her errands, she screamed at you for being lazy and irresponsible as usual. She screamed at you all the time, so that wasn't what made you lose it. It was when she raised her hand and slapped you. The blow came as a surprise and you tasted blood. One of the rings in her fingers had cut you, and your lower lip trickled with crimson. You saw red then as the blood roared in your ears. You let out a string of the worst profanities, calling her all manner of insults. It was your unfortunate luck that it was at that moment that your father chose to return.

"You will not speak to your mother that way!" he roared.

"She is not my mother!" you screeched. "Do not ever disrespect my mother again by comparing her to this whore!"

Your father uttered your name, his tone tinged with a warning.

"Apologize to her," he muttered. "You do not get to speak to her that way."

"Do you even know what she did? Do you even care? No of course you don't. All you care about is your perfect new wife and your perfect new kids. You don't give a fuck about me, just like you didn't give a fuck about my mother!"

"Mind your manners! I am still your father!"

"I'd rather have no father at all than one like you! You killed her, you killed my mother. I wish you had died instead. In fact, I hope your next fight kills you!"

Your stepmother gasped dramatically and your father flinched. His expression grew thunderous and he lifted his hand, almost instinctively. He pulled it back down to his side almost immediately but the damage was done. You looked at him incredulously.

"You would raise your hand at me?" you whispered in disbelief. "Your whore already hits me at every opportunity, and now you would do? Maybe you should...maybe you should just beat me to death. Maybe it's me who should have died with my mother so that I could at least be with someone who cared about me."

"I-no...I didn't mean-" Sihtric stumbled over his words.

You didn't wait to hear his explanation, stomping out the door and sprinting away. You took refuge in the forest, slumped against your favourite tree as you sobbed. Your wish to remain alone went ungranted as you heard the sound of leaves crunching as someone approached you. A familiar voice mumbled your name.

"Go away, Sophia!"

"You can't just push people away when you're angry you know."

"I can, and I will."

"Not me," Sophia came over and knelt on the ground next to you. "You can't get rid of me!"

You raised your head to look at her, eyes still swimming with tears, "Why are you here?"

"I saw you run out of your house and head this way. Seemed wise to follow you."

"You can't follow me forever."

"I can certainly try. Now tell me what happened."

You sighed and then straightened up, recounting your story to her, your voice taking on a sharp edge. Sophia nodded sympathetically, and then she pulled out her handkerchief to dab at your lip gingerly.

"I'm going to leave!" you said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm leaving," you said again, more firmly. "I can't stay here anymore."

"You...you can come to live with my family? You know my parents adore you."

"No. I can't stay here, in Rumcofa. I can't watch my father live happily ever after with her new family and I can't watch that horrible witch erase all signs of mother from that house. I can't do it, I won't."

Sophia's brow wrinkled in concern, "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere has to be better than here. I know how to fight, I can go anywhere."

"I don't think-"

"Don't try to talk me out of it Sophia, I've made up my mind. I'm going to go and I'm going to leave tonight?"

"Tonight?" her eyes widened.

You nodded, "They won't be looking for me for a while. They'll think I got angry and stormed off to your place as usual. That gives me some time."

"What'll you do if they do look for you?"

"I'll be long gone by then."

Sophia was silent for several long moments, pondering something in her head. Then, her eyes lit up and you recognized her expression as one she usually had when she had an idea.

"I'll come with you!" she blurted excitedly.

"What? No!"

"Yes!"

"Sophia, no!"

"Come on, it'll be perfect! We'll explore the world together. And besides when have I ever not been by your side? Trust me, you need me."

You gaped at her as if she had grown a third eye.

"Are you insane? You have a family. A family who adores you and they would be extremely worried if you just disappeared like that."

"Technically I could say the same about you but it's clear that you're in no mood to listen to anyone. It's final, I'm coming with you!"

"No, I can't let you do that."

"Well, I can't let you go on your own."

"But...your parents...?"

Sophia looked pensive for a moment, "They'll understand. And you're like a daughter to them too. They'll be worried about you so I'm sure they'd be happier knowing we're watching out for each other."

"But you can't leave them!"

After several more rounds of back and forth between the two of you, Sophia jutted out her chin stubbornly.

"If you refuse to let me come with you, I am going over to your father right now and telling him you're planning to run away!"

"What? You can't do that!"

"Watch me!"

You were silent for several minutes, and then you nodded hesitantly. Sophia's face split into a grin immediately.

"What about Aethelstan," Sophia winked. "Can't leave him behind. Who knows which fair lady of lovely Rumcofa he might take as his companion if we're not here to keep him company."

Your face warmed immediately at the thought of your friend. He had been one of your best friends but in the past years, your feeling for him had grown into something else, something more. You were too much of a coward, and too consumed with your bitterness to examine those feelings. You had simply buried them somewhere deep inside where they'd never see the light of day. You shook your head frantically.

"We can't tell Aethelstan!" you whisper-yelled. "He's the son of the king and Lord Uhtred's ward. There'd be a whole search party after us if we take him."

Sophia's smile dropped as the reality of what they were about to do set in.

"But...but we can't leave him behind. Should we at least tell him where we're going?"

You shook your head again, "No. He'll only try to talk us out of it."

"But-"

"If you're coming with me, we have to do things my way."

"That's not fair!"

"Then stay here. Where it's safe and familiar, and things are fair," you shrugged.

Sophia sighed and nodded eventually, "Alright, we'll do things your way."

And that was the beginning of a different life. The two of you left that very night, creeping out of Rumcofa using one of Sophia's father's boats. You had insisted that she write her family a note, telling them that she was safe. you also forbade her from mentioning you in her note, although everyone had known the two of you long enough to know that where one went, the other surely always followed.

The next few years passed quickly, and both you and Sophia had made quite a name for yourselves and had amassed a small army of sorts. You had formed your own family of sorts, a band of fellow women who had run away from varying circumstances, brought together by fate. Your group of shieldmaidens was famous for protecting villages from raiders. You had taken care to travel far enough that you never ran into your father or any of his men, and over the years the fear of getting caught had worn off.

You had first heard about Lord Uhtred's fight to retake Bebbanburg through one of your messengers. After much deliberation, you and Sophia had agreed that it would only be right if you joined the fight. Lord Uhtred had always been kind and had taken care of your family ever since you could remember. You remembered him visiting and asking after your mother's health and it was your duty to help him retake his birthright.

Your army of shieldmaidens did not hesitate to volunteer to fight by your side. They trusted you to lead them and they would stand with you no matter what. You wondered if you'd see your father there. He had to be, he was one of Lord Uhtred's closest friends and if he was still alive, he'd be right there by his side. With a pang of regret, you remembered the last words you had said to him. You had wished for his death and you desperately hoped that the gods had not granted your immature selfish prayer. The years had cooled your anger and you were no longer as bitter. All the women you had met and the stories you had heard made you realize that there were worst fates out there and the sting of poison that ran through your veins became dilute.

The fight itself was long and hard and you lost quite a few women, all cherished friends and companions. Everyone lost someone in the fight and after all the brave warriors had been honoured and sent on their way to Valhalla, everyone gathered within the newly conquered castle walls to celebrate Lord Uhtred's victory. You had been able to avoid facing anyone you knew so far, but now, as you sat in the corner, allowing Sophia to bandage your injured arm, you could see Lord Uhtred and his men make their way toward you both.

Finan greeted you first, with a broad grin and a clap on your shoulder. Sophia turned around at his presence and when she saw him she squealed with pleasure.

"Father!" she crowed, throwing her arms around him.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, twirling her slightly, like the used to when she was a child.

"My girl is a warrior now," he boomed with laughter. "And leading your own army too."

Sophia's smile turned sheepish and she let go of him and lowered her gaze.

"I...I'm sorry Father. I'm sorry for leaving..." she muttered.

Finan took a deep breath and then exhaled, sighing. He shook his head and patted his daughter's shoulder gently.

"We will speak of that another time. For now, it is enough that you are safe and whole, and that you're home. You had us very worried you know, your mother especially. She was inconsolable."

"I am so sorry, Father."

As you watched Sophia and her father walk away, presumably to go see her mother and the rest of her family, your eyes stung and you blinked quickly, holding back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to spill. You felt bad that Sophia had to leave because of you, but more than that, you felt a pang of hurt at the thought of no one missing you. You had no mother who would be inconsolable at your loss. You busied yourself with the bandage on your arm, not realizing that Uhtred had left as well, leaving you alone with your father.

Sihtric cleared his throat and you looked up at him in surprise. Both of you were silent for several long moments, neither knowing where to start. Your eyes charted the planes of his face. He looked older, with tired lines around his eyes and mouth. He seemed to have a perpetual furrow in his brow. Now that you had seen him, you were hit with an overwhelming wave of relief. His battles had not taken him from this earth, he was still alive.

"I...I am sorry."

It was you who had mustered up the courage to speak. You looked him in the eye as you did, shoulders back, eyes blazing with defiance as if daring him to rebuke you. You waited for him to turn his head away, to make some sort of cold remark or something of the sort. He didn't though. He just stared at you and you felt rooted to the ground. Then, wordlessly, he stepped closer and pulled you into his arms. You froze in his embrace and he just held on tighter. You could not see his face but you felt his shoulders tremble and you wondered with some disbelief if he was crying. You patted his back awkwardly.

"I'm sorry Father... for everything."

Sihtric shook his head and when he pulled away you saw the tears that had tracked down his face and soaked into his beard. He cupped your face with aching tenderness and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I thought I had lost you forever," he whispered. "I thought I would never see you again. You didn't even leave a note."

The tears you had been holding back fell now, and you forced yourself to harden your eyes.

"I didn't think you'd care," you shrugged.

He thumbed the tears from your face, "I am sorry. I am sorry I ever made you feel that way. I understand if you can never forgive me but you have to know how truly sorry I am. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. Please let me. Please come home."

You avoided his pleading gaze, instead letting your eyes fall on your fellow warriors.

"I have another family as well now. They need me."

Sihtric's face was crestfallen but he nodded, "Of course. I am proud of you, you know, more than you can imagine. You have become a most fearsome warrior and I am proud to call you my beloved daughter."

"I have another family...but you will always be my father," you finally said. "The first family I ever knew. You will always have a part of my heart."

It was you who fell into his embrace this time and you could feel his joy in the way his arms wrapped around you.

"I understand that you have another place now, but know that you will always have a place with me, should you ever wish to return," he mumbled and then he hesitated. "And...you should visit. Your siblings have missed you dearly."

"I suppose a visit won't hurt."

Sihtric chuckled and pulled away, clapping your shoulder, "We have much else to talk about, I have much else to apologize for...but for now, I think there is someone else who wishes for your attention."

He gestured toward the tall boy watching you from across the courtyard and when you caught his eye, his eyes turned cold and he turned away.

"Ouch," you muttered.

"The two of you left him behind," Sihtric explained. "You cannot blame the poor boy for feeling hurt. Now go, make things right."

He nudged you toward Aethelstan's disappearing form with a wink and he was gone before you could question his action. You turned around to make your way toward your friend, waking fast to catch up.

"Aethelstan!" you called after him.

At first, you thought that he didn't hear you because he didn't turn around, but then he started to walk away faster. He walked right out the front gates and into the field beyond. You dropped your sword in the grass and chased after him.

"Damnit Aethelstan, slow down!"

Your words only spurred him on, but by now you were fully sprinting after him. You caught up in a matter of moments, grabbing his arm to pull him to a halt. He kept his back to you so you circled him, meeting him face-to-face for the first time in years. His eyes remained glued to the floor you crossed your arms in frustration.

"You won't even say hello?" you asked furiously.

He did not respond. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed.

"Go away," he finally muttered, his voice sharp. "I don't want to talk to you."

"No, I will not! Why are you running from me? You were my dearest friend, and now you won't even look at me."

Aethelstan's eyes finally met hers, burning with emotion, "You're no friend of mine!"

You flinched, "Hey...that's not fair."

"Friends don't do what you did. Friends don't abandon friends!"

"I never wanted to hurt you," you pleaded, reaching out to him but he took a step back, avoiding your touch. "I had to go."

Aethelstan shook his head, "I don't want to hear your excuses. You told Sophia and took her with you, but you didn't even bother leaving me a note? You clearly didn't think of me as a friend so why should I?"

"I couldn't take you with me. You know that."

"You could have at least asked. You could have at least let me know!"

"It all happened so fast, I didn't get a chance. I-I am sorry."

"Don't bother apologizing. You don't owe me anything," he shrugged. "It won't change the past."

"No...but it's a start. I should have told you that I was leaving. I should have explained why I had to go. I never meant to hurt you, and I'm truly sorry for the pain I caused."

"You treated me like I meant nothing to you. Now you have to accept that you're nothing to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, "You mean everything to me, Aethelstan. You're my dearest friend, and I never wanted to lose that."

"You left without saying a word. We were supposed to share everything. But you abandoned me, just like that. How dare you say that I mean something to you?"

"Please..."

Aethelstan shook his head, his eyes firm, "We are not friends. Not anymore."

"That's not fair!" you protested, voice breaking. "After all these years, after everything we've been through together, you're going to dismiss our friendship like it never meant a thing?"

"It's the truth. I can't forget the way I felt. Do you even know what I went through on my own, without you there."

The two of you stood there, locked in a tense silence. You refused to give up, your determination fueled by the urge to make things right with him, no matter what it took. You felt desperate. You couldn't lose him. Not when you had spent every day of the past few years thinking about him.

"Fine," you said finally, voice steady and shoulders slumped. "If you don't want to call me your friend, then I'll respect that. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Please, give me a chance to fix this."

Aethelstan did not respond, expression guarded. You nodded, mostly to yourself and turned around, starting to walk back to where the others were. Disappointment churned in your gut and you felt sick. You had quite possibly ruined one of your most cherished relationships due to your own stupidity. You pressed your lips tightly against each other to prevent them from trembling. You knew that he did not owe you forgiveness. Whether or not an apology was accepted was entirely up to the person one had hurt and if Aethelstan decided never to forgive you, there was nothing you could do about it. Just the thought of it made your heartache.

Just then, a hand landed on your shoulder, making you stop in your tracks. You turned out, bewildered. Once Aethelstan caught sight of your reddened face, his eyes widened.

"What's wrong with you? Why're you crying?"

You hastily swiped your hands under your eyes, shaking your head, "I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow sardonically, "You have always been a terrible liar."

You shrugged.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," he admitted after several seconds of silence. "But I'll try."

Your eyes brightened and your lips lifted upward. You weren't a hopeless case after all.

"But I don't think we can ever be friends again," he quickly pointed out, making you deflate again.

"Right. Of course. I understand. I'll take what I can get and you are under no obligation to...to be my friend. Just your forgiveness alone is enough."

Athelstan watched you with a peculiar expression, halfway between amused and concerned.

"I don't think I can go back to being just friends with you."

"By the gods, I know! You don't have to keep saying it like it'll hurt any less."

He outright laughed then, and you bristled. You glared at him.

"What I meant, silly girl, is that I can't go back to being just friends when I think of you as more than that."

Oh.

"Yeah," he reached out to brush the tears from your lashes. "So stop moping about like it's the end of the world."

He turned around and jogged back to the courtyard where everyone was gathered, leaving you to marvel at the latest development of things on your own.

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billybob598 · 9 months

Text

Look What I've Got (Sophia Smith x Reader)

Heyyyyy. I did not want to put this gif in because it makes me sad, but I thought it made sense with the story. Also, this is a F1 reader, there was a little vote between f1 reader or swewnt reader and f1 won 8-6 so sorry to anyone wanting the swewnt reader but this is a democracy. I might do a similar one later with a swewnt reader for those people. Anyways, it's a shit title and a shit ending so have fun reading! Remember any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k (My longest fic ever wooooo!!!)

You were a proud girlfriend right now. Here you were watching your girlfriend of almost two years, Sophia Smith, playing in her first-ever World Cup. While you missed the group stage games due to the F1 Grand Prix in Hungary and Belgium, you were finally able to come to Australia. Your girlfriend didn’t know that you were here yet nor that you were attending the USA’s Round of 16 match against Sweden. Throughout the warm-ups, Sophia seems laser-focused, so much so that she doesn’t see you sitting in the stands wearing her jersey. Of course, it is instead her best friend Naomi Girma who spots you first. When she points you out you don’t think you’ve ever seen your girlfriend's head turn so fast. Her eyes land on you and she sprints towards you with a blinding smile.

“Oh, my God! Baby, I’ve missed you so much!” Sophia squeals out as she hugs you tightly.

You chuckle, “I’ve missed you too, love.” When you pull away from the hug, Sophia immediately connects your lips. You reach back and slip your arms around her neck, trying to deepen the kiss. Gagging sounds come from beside you. Sophia groans and tries to chase your lips when you take your lips off of hers, suddenly aware of all the cameras, family members, and teammates surrounding you. You give her a weak smile and slightly push her back to the field.

“Nooo, I wanna stay with you,” she pouts. You find her pouting adorable, but as much as you want her to stay with you, you know that she has to go continue to warm up.

“Hi Y/N! I’m your favourite player right?” Naomi yells from across the field.

You wink at her with a cheeky smile, “Oh, of course. Girma on top baby.” Sophia gives her best friend a harsh glare before leaning in to give you one last hug.

“I’m your favourite though, right baby?” She asks quietly. You give her a subtle kiss on her ear while mumbling an “Always” to her.

As the game gets underway, you watch nervously at every movement the US makes. Each time Musovic makes a fantastic save you can’t help the little groan of frustration that leaves your mouth. You can tell Sophia is starting to get frustrated with herself, whenever she feels she misses an opportunity she puts her head in her hands. The skin around your nails has been chewn. When extra time ends still in a 0-0 draw, your nerves increase tenfold. As Andi steps up to take the first penalty kick, Mollie, Sophia’s mom, reaches down and grabs your hand, squeezing tightly. When Sophia steps up to take a potentially game-winning penalty, you and her mom hold your breath. You can only watch in despair as her kick goes over the bar, her hands going straight to her head as the reality that she missed sinks in.

When the VAR call comes through and Lina Hurtig’s penalty is called good, your entire body deflates. The entirety of the US team breaks down, including your girlfriend. All you want to do is hold her and comfort her when you see her crying. It’s not her fault, you know that, but she’s already got it in her head that she’s to blame for everything. After a couple of minutes of tears and hugs among the team, the players start to make their way to their families and friends. You let Sophia sob into her parents' shoulders for a while. Finally, she pulls away and looks at you. You try to give her a smile and reach for her. She looks away and slowly starts to back away from you. The confusion you feel is represented on your face.

“I’m sorry Y/N I just need some space right now,” she softly speaks. You nod, albeit confused but trying your best to be understanding. After a long time in the locker room and taking their showers, the players start to emerge. Sophia shows up, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. She heads straight for her family once again. You hang back unsure of what she wants you to do. Her family leaves the two of you alone when her eyes meet yours. Opening your mouth to say something, you are caught off guard when she speaks first.

“Just don’t, okay?” Once again confusion writes itself all over you.

“Don’t what?” You ask.

“Don’t say that I did such a good job, that it was just unlucky I missed and that I’m still young, or some shit like that,” she says, a bit of anger seeping into her voice. You nod slowly, carefully choosing your next words.

“Okay, I won’t say that. I do think you did a good job, though. But, if you don’t think you did then whatever. All I know is that you made me crazy proud,” you state, trying to cheer her up. You don’t know what happened, but it seemed that sentence had set off Sophia.

“Well I don’t care if you're proud of me, that doesn’t change the fact that we lost and it was all my fault! If you think that it wasn’t my fault, you’re astronomically wrong,” her voice rising with each word said, “I don’t care if you're proud of me. I don’t even know why you’re here, I don’t want you to be.” Her words sting. You take a step back, trying not to show just how hurt you are.

“Do you really mean that?” You ask quietly.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Sophia says harshly. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She has no idea why she’s saying these things right now, her heart cracking at how dejected you look.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel I guess,” you whisper, looking down at the ground to ensure that she doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. Quickly, you turn around and make your way to the parking lot. Your eyes stinging and your vision blurring, but you’ll be damned if Sophia gets to see you cry. The second you disappear out of her sight, Sophia feels terrible. Why on Earth would she say that? “I don’t care if you're proud of me,” who the fuck even says that? You flew halfway across the world to spend some time with her during your summer break which was only a few weeks, and this is how she treated you? For the entire bus ride back to the hotel, everyone is silent. Some people are crying, but Sophia is kicking herself over how she behaved towards you. She sends you a couple of texts, which she can see you read but don’t respond to. Then, when the team gets back to the hotel, she tries to call you a few times. Each attempt just gets your voicemail. Naomi, who was aware of the situation, just told her friend to rest and try again tomorrow. Sophia relents and comes to the conclusion that you won’t respond tonight and that she just needs to let you sleep and calm down a bit.

The next day, as soon as she wakes up Sophia tries to get a hold of you. She calls you again and again. While eating breakfast she’s on her phone, praying that you’ll reply to one of the many texts she’s sent you. Her friends are slightly concerned at how dejected the forward looks after each passing minute with no word from you. Finally, Ashley Sanchez suggests that Sophia goes to your hotel to try and iron things out. Their flight wasn’t until the next day so she had the time. After thinking about the idea for a bit, Sophia decides to just go for it. She does know where you are staying and figures it’s only a fifteen-minute walk over. Sophia plays with her rings the entire time, her nerves only increasing as she gets closer to the hotel. Finding your room easily, she stands outside of it for a few minutes, trying to plan out exactly what she’ll say. Eventually, she knocks and holds her breath. When you open the door, Sophia’s heart breaks at the sight. Your eyes were red and you looked tired. You had heavy bags under your eyes and your hair looks dishevelled. You were definitely caught off guard by Sophia just showing up at your door.

“Hey,” Sophia speaks softly.

“Hey, what do you want?” Your words have a slight bite to them. Sophia winces at your tone, but she knows it’s well deserved.

“Um, I just wanted to apologize, you know, for last night,” she says avoiding eye contact with you. You sigh heavily.

“Yeah, okay,” your girlfriend looks up at you confused by your words.

“Okay?”

“Okay. What you said was totally out of line and right now I don’t particularly feel like talking to you,” your voice is flat and she can sense a hint of anger in it.

“Oh…” Sophia trails off, now feeling stupid for coming over. Obviously you wouldn’t want to talk to her. “Right, sorry. But can’t we just try and talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? I understand you were sad and disappointed in yourself, Soph, but you don’t get to just lash out at someone who didn’t actually need to be there. I chose to be there, for you, and then you say shit like, ‘I don’t want you to be here’ That’s not fair to me and you know it,” you breathe out, happy to finally get that off your chest.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I have to do to show you that I’m sorry. Please just forgive me and I’ll make it up to you, please Y/N,” she begs, her eyes full of tears at this point. Now it’s your turn to avoid eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes. You hate seeing her cry, more than anything. While your heart aches to just forgive her, you know that you can’t just let it go that easily. She’s said sorry, but that alone is not enough.

“Soph, I’m sorry. I think I need some space.”

“What? No, no, no, please Y/N. I’ll do anything,” she continues to plead with you.

“I’m not breaking up with you, okay? Don’t worry. I just need some time. What you said wasn’t cool and I just want to calm down a bit,” you say trying to keep the emotions out of your voice. You feel terrible at how heartbroken Sophia looks. “Sophia?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, that’s okay. As long as you're not breaking up with me,” she mumbles, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

“No, God no. It’s just a break,” you say quickly, wanting to make sure she understood. She smiles slightly at how panicked you looked. With that, she moves to walk away, but not before giving you a hug and a kiss on your cheek. You blush slightly, watching sadly as she walks away.

For the next few weeks, you and Sophia did not talk. You went back to your apartment in Monaco and continued to train and prepare for the Dutch Grand Prix. Sophia went back to Portland and after taking a week off recovering from the World Cup, rejoined training with the Thorns. Everyone could see how distracted Sophia looked at training and outside of it. They knew that you guys were on a break and that you were not talking to each other. While she was still playing well, her friends noticed that she was a lot quieter and that she didn’t seem to want to spend too much time with other people more than she had to. Your own team could also see how sad and distant you looked. So, a few days before you were due to fly to the Netherlands, your teammate and friend, Lando Norris, suggested you ask her if she wanted to come to the race.

A/N: I know that the race weekend is scheduled from the 25-27th and that Portland has a game on the 27th, but let’s just pretend that there is no game lol.

Agreeing with the idea, you send Sophia a text asking if she wanted to fly out to the Netherlands and watch the race. Sophia, of course, says yes and immediately starts to pack her bags. You send her the tickets for the weekend and the plane.

As Sophia walks into the paddock, she’s nervous but excited. There was someone from the McLaren team showing her to the garage, and while she had come to a few Grand Prix’s before the car had been terrible then. Since the last time she came, the team had seen a ginormous amount of improvement. Now, you were competing for podiums and top 5 finishes instead of trying to not finish in the bottom 5. She was shown to your driver room and told that you were in a meeting, but you’d be done soon. After waiting for about ten minutes the door opens and you walk in, with your race suit hanging around your waist and the black fireproofs leaving little to the imagination. You stop your movements when you see Sophia sitting there.

“Hey, thanks for coming I know it was pretty last second,” you say sincerely.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Thanks for inviting me,” she responds. She notices you playing with your hands nervously. Deciding that you need to stop, she stands up and reaches out, grabbing your hands and encouraging you to play with the rings on her hands instead. You smile softly, finding it sweet that she always remembers you like to play with her rings. For a few moments, there was silence. Then you break it with your words,

“How have you been?” Sophia sighs, thinking back to the last couple of weeks.

“I’ve been…okay,” you give her a look, “What?”

“The bags under your eyes say differently.” The US player looks down, embarrassed.

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t been that great.”

“Mhm, well I guarantee you’ve been better than I have,” you murmur. Sophia gives you a questioning look. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus, I did terrible in the simulator training. I think some space was good for us, but now I think I’m feeling better.” She smiles at you, raising her eyebrows, encouraging you to continue “Do you wanna get back together?” Sophia smirks,

“I thought we didn’t break up? We were just on a break,” she challenges. Your eyes widen at your mistake,

“Err, well, shit.” She laughs at the expression on your face. “Well, whatever we were on, do you want to stop it now?”

“Yes please,” she requests. You chuckle lightly, before wrapping your arms around her neck. She smirks and rests her hands on your hips then leans in slowly. Your lips meet and start to move against each other. One of her hands moves across your abdomen, your abs tensing slightly under your fireproofs. She runs her tongue across your lips asking for access which you grant. Your tongues fight for dominance as she pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss. After a couple more seconds, you pull away from each other.

“So, no more break right?” You ask teasingly. She fake ponders the question until you hit her shoulder lightly. She laughs,

“Yeah, yeah. No more break, babe” You grin and connect your lips once again.

For the rest of the weekend, Sophia is by your side. She loves hanging out with the mechanics and engineers. She also really likes Lando, who’s in a good mood for most of the weekend because the car is performing really well. Your girlfriend watches from the garage in excitement as you get your first-ever podium in F1 at Zandvoort. The Internet goes mad when you point and blow her a kiss from the podium, something which she returns. The team starts the post-race celebrations inside the garage while you are finishing up some media and debriefs. When you come running in everybody cheers and there are a lot of hugs and high-fives given out. You go straight to Sophia, holding your 2nd place trophy proudly.

“Babe! Babe! Look what I’ve got! It’s so shiny!” You shout happily. She laughs at the giddy expression on your face.

“Yeah I see it, love. It’s pretty cool,” she says while pulling you into a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you.” The smile that you give her melts her heart. For the rest of the night, you two stay tight together and drink the rest of the champagne in the bottle given to the podium finishers. A couple of weeks ago you thought your relationship was over, but now here you are with your girlfriend proudly beside you for one of your lifelong dreams. It doesn’t get much better than that.

#sophia smith x reader #sophia smith #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #uswnt x reader #f1 reader x woso

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