#okay hi if you've made it through the tags this far: sorry

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆?

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst if you squint, crying (reader feels a rush of emotions), implications of reincarnation, references to the heartstring symphony card, this will hit different if you've read his anecdotes and myth stories, porn with feelings (if it wasn't obvious yet), first time, kissing and making out, slight dry humping, softdom!xavier, fingering, nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight cockwarming, soft sex, slight teasing, slight cursing, dirty talk, praise, use of pet name "angel", lmk if i missed any tags!!

sneaky link : pretty much a visual of what Goes On in this fic (for the most part) 🤭

wc : 4.2k+

There's no one else who knows you more than Xavier does, and he would prove it to you as many times as he needed to.

"Mmh..."

A soft sigh fell from your lips, shifting down to a pout as a he pulled away from you. "Why'd you stop?" You almost whined, and Xavier chuckled as he shook his head. In response, he only trailed his lips down your jawline; soft, fluttering, barely-there kisses all over your face if only to soothe you for the time being.

"It's late, you know..." He mumbled against your skin, feeling you shudder under his touch.

"But, Xavier...!"

You could feel the grin fighting its way onto his lips at your little complaints, and he moved back up, level with your eyes. But contrary to the tease in his actions, his eyes remained gentle. Soft, like every fibre of his being, and full of so, so much love and adoration. Feelings, you knew, that were only ever reserved for you.

"You're really not sleepy yet?" He ran his fingers through your hair, watching the way your locks would fall gently from his hands, almost as if soothed by the very sight. The contrast in his actions now compared to the way he'd kissed you moments prior only messed with your head, but as always, you found it hard to resist the almost puppy-like gaze he would give you in times like this.

This time it was you who shook your head, a failed attempt to hide the smile that was threatening to peek through. "Are you? I wanna stay up with you a bit longer."

"Well... You've already stayed awake with me the whole night," he chuckled, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose as he pressed his forehead against yours. There was a hint of playfulness in the twinkle of his eyes, and you huffed—

"But not with you," you protested. "Fighting Wanderers with you hardly counts. And then you'll go off again somewhere in the morning..."

Your voice trailed off, and something in your words made his expression change in the slightest.

"Okay," he said, after a moment. Another kiss on your nose, arm moving back over your waist to pull you close. "But, are you... Having those thoughts again?"

"...No, I just..." His gaze never left yours, but you turned your eyes downwards, instead snuggling into his embrace. The way you couldn't complete your sentence spoke volumes, and it was almost as if you weren't bothering to hide it in the slightest.

"Sometimes, you're not very good at lying."

With a sigh, Xavier shifted to guide your chin upwards as if to get you to look at him. "I'm sorry, angel."

You would never tire of how expressive his eyes were.

The way they would widen, ever so slightly, in an almost pleading manner when he knew you were upset— The way they would dance with yours in a fondness so pure, and so loving. You had always thought he never quite knew how to express himself with you, having never been the type to say so many words at once. But by now, you knew, his eyes communicated far more than you'd have ever needed.

"You always say it won't happen again, Xavier, but... You always leave."

"...I know."

His voice became barely a whisper, and you didn't miss the way his eyes dropped momentarily to your lips.

"...And when you get back, sometimes you're still injured..."

"...I know."

You let out a breath, reaching out this time to brush the hair out of his face. "So... Won't you kiss me more?"

You watched as a smile slowly made its way to his features, and he moved closer, closer, lips just barely ghosting yours as his voice seemed to drop an octave lower. "Will that make it up to you?"

"Maybe. If you do it enough times to make up for your absence."

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, taking in every bit of you as your lips parted for him, expectant and wanting. Then, he took it rightfully as your invitation for a little more, and his lips were back on yours immediately, captured in the most tender of kisses that had you melting in his arms.

Elsewhere, his hand trailed over the curve of your back in a sweet, loving caress that had you leaning into him for more, and the shift of the corners of his mouth made it known to you that he knew. You caught the slightest taste of cherry as he moved his lips against yours, as soft as velvet, perfectly in sync as if he'd always known exactly how they would move in the first place.

There was no one else who knew you better than Xavier did, and this was no exception. Not with the way he was keen on getting you all worked up like this, deep, and slow, and barely giving you the chance to breathe before diving back in.

In seconds, his bright blue eyes had yours enraptured, swirling with barely contained mirth as he sucked at your bottom lip, tongue lapping over the swollen flesh before gently biting down.

And, oh, he drove you insane.

Unrelenting, your whimpers remained swallowed into his movements, and the tease in his eyes became more evident. Soft, quiet smacking noises resounded in the room as the kisses became more passionate, your arms wrapping around his neck, slipping out a moan as he gently pushed his tongue inside to meet yours.

Your legs moved to entangle with his, nearly wrapping around his waist—

And then he stopped.

Panting, he pulled away from you yet again, a delicate thread of saliva connecting your parted lips.

"Xavier..." You whined, leaning forward as if to chase the same feeling.

But he placed a finger to your temple and shook his head. "We... Should stop."

"But—! You can't just—"

"Angel."

His tone was one of warning; one he would barely ever use with you if not to keep you in place.

Were you crossing a line...?

You fell silent within moments, but the indignance in your gaze lingered longer than you should have let it. Your disappointment could not have been more evident, and he sighed, taking your hand and guiding it downwards—

Oh.

"I have my limits, too, you know? Any further than this, and I can't promise I'll still be acting with your best interests in mind." With a small smile, he shifted just a bit closer to place another chaste kiss on the tip of your nose, as if in reconciliation. "Won't you be gentle with me?"

You couldn't understand him.

How he was so kind yet teasing; so considerate yet so infuriating. It sent an instant jolt of warmth down to your very core, and even you were not oblivious to the wetness that had pooled between your thighs.

A test; a dare—you wrapped your legs around him and shifted, brushing against his erection and relishing in the quiet groan that fell from his lips.

Xavier's hand gripped yours tightly, and he shook his head once more. "Angel, please," he whispered. "We should only be doing this when you're ready..."

"...And if I am?"

Another roll of your hips, pressing closer against him, and he dipped his head down, grip on your hand tightening as he tried desperately to exercise what little restraint he had left. His gaze moved upwards, pleading. He wouldn't dare to speak, not when he couldn't trust the noises that would fall from his mouth if he did—

But as always, his eyes would speak volumes.

Your gaze softened, this time being your turn to cup his cheeks into a quick peck. "Can I have you?" You mumbled, quietly, searching his eyes. "Here. Now."

You watched as his breath caught in his throat, recognition passing in his eyes as he realized the weight of your words, and the tenderness in your touch. "Is this what you really want?" He was breathless when he spoke, inching closer to you once more, almost as if in disbelief of your words.

And perhaps you, too, were at a momentary loss for words.

Xavier—sweet, loving, patient Xavier... How he would never force you into doing things you wouldn't want, how he would never failingly wait to hear your consent before daring to breach another boundary. This had always been the furthest you both had gone. Still scared to take the next step, it was always you who would withdraw, never testing the line that was drawn yourself.

But, somehow, now was different.

Be it the desperation you had to keep him by your side, or the want that had bore itself in front of you from all that you had been doing just now—the fact, then, was that you'd never felt more safe, and loved, and cherished, than in his arms.

Tonight, you would let him know that.

So your heart thrummed loudly in your chest... And you nodded.

Shyly, your gaze moved away from him, hands drifting to play with the fabric of his hoodie. "I'm... Not being too greedy tonight, am I? By saying yes?" You mumbled softly. "I just... Why does it feel like this, Xavier? Like I've known you my whole life."

He remained silent as you spoke, only stroking the side of your arm in reassurance.

"All this time, I think... I've only been scared. Of diving in headfirst; of giving you my everything when I feel that there's still so much of you that I don't know, so much of you that you won't... tell me." You looked up, noting the reflection of your figure in his eyes. "And yet, you know me so well. Every little action, every little word... I could trust you with my life by now. And I have no choice but to melt into you like I have this entire time, like all I've ever known is to be... loved by you. Have we met before, Xavier? It feels like... Maybe, in another life, I've had you there with me, too."

His eyes softened, momentarily flashing with an inexplicable yearning that you couldn't quite place. And then he laced his hands with yours, gently shifting your positions to have you lying beneath him. "Yeah," he whispered, "that sounds like something I'd do." Tears sprung at your eyes with his words, and he traced them away, thumb rubbing against your cheek in the most tender of motions. "I would love you in every lifetime. And if you want me to prove it to you, then... Maybe you'll find out that it's me who's the greedy one."

With that, his lips were on your neck, hands roaming your body and relishing your soft gasps against the crown of his head. Lower, lower—in careful, deliberate motions, his fingers worked the buttons of your blouse to have you open and bare for him, teeth grazing the skin of your nape as you tilted your head with a quiet moan.

He let out a slow breath as he took in the sight of you, trailing his hands from your stomach up to your breasts. Your breath hitched as you watched, hands kneading your tits and his own eyes transfixed in the way they would mold into his hands, soft, supple, his.

"Xavier..." A quiet mumble of his name before he leaned in to take your nipple in his mouth, eyes wandering back up to meet yours. He didn't respond, but his lips almost seemed to twitch up into a smile.

The way he looked at you sent waves of pleasure to your core. Soft, innocent Xavier... Now, he held within him unbridled desire, his mouth wrapped around your sensitive nub, pulling and sucking, flicking and swirling his tongue against it before taking it back in. His pupils darkened in a way you've never seen them do before. There was a certain kind of lustful warmth shimmering within their depths, easily replacing that sleepy gaze you were much more used to seeing.

Then there was a soft "mmm" against your skin before he pulled back with a pop, reaching to roll your other nub between the pads of his fingers, allowing a smile to form on his features. A sharp intake of breath was all you could do to keep from melting underneath him.

"You're so pretty like this, angel," he leaned up to nuzzle against your neck, savoring your warmth. His actions eminated only a shred of lingering restraint, replaced instead by a brimming sense of urgency. He rut slowly up between your thighs, eliciting a whimper from your lips that he caught back into his own.

It was familiar; his lips against yours, already swollen from how much you had kissed just moments prior. But there was something in the way he kissed you now that had you shuddering under the weight of his want, an honest and open display of desperation for you, conveyed with each and every kiss.

Slowly, slowly, his hand edged downwards, slipping past the waistband of your shorts to gently palm at your clothed cunt—he sighed at the sound of your moans, leaning back once more as his eyes roamed over your body, nothing less than pleased.

"Beautiful, beautiful," he mumbled, seemingly mostly to himself as he dragged down the only restricting articles of clothing you had left. The cool air hitting the heat of your core made you shiver, and you immediately reached out for him in the face of your sudden exposure.

"Xavier..." You whined, feeling almost like prey under his gaze, gripping tightly onto his hoodie. But he kept you close, arms now on either side of your head as he leaned in, placing soft, fluttering kisses all over your jawline.

"It's alright," he murmured. "I've got you."

His shifted as his fingers ghosted lightly over your knee, slowly sliding up before snaking downwards in a repeated motion, prying you open little by little. Though meant to lull you into comfort, his touch left a trail of heat in its wake, and you whimpered, reaching out to place your hand on his cheek.

"Am I going too fast? Do you want to stop...?"

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head, hand falling back to rest on your side. "N-no, just... Nervous..."

Xavier softened at your honesty. "We'll go slowly. One step at a time. Do you trust me, angel?"

"Always, Xavier."

"Okay. I'll take care of you, warm you up. It'll feel so good, angel, I promise." His voice was low as he nibbled at your ear, shaky breaths hitting in warm exhales that rendered you speechless.

You trusted him; you meant it.

Even as you felt yourself jolt when he snaked his hand ever-so-close to your core; even as he swiped over your slit to gather your slick onto his finger, wet sounds reaching your ears and almost making you want to bury yourself alive. With your eyes locked desperately onto him, you couldn't see what he was doing, but the pleasure that raked through your body at even the slightest of his touches had you reeling—it felt embarrassing, almost, to have unfurled so easily beneath him.

But Xavier only chuckled.

"Good girl," he whispered, and a gasp fell from your lips that made him smile. "So wet for me. So easy for me to just... Slowly..."

You felt an almost alien intrusion into your cunt, long and slender, your mouth falling open in a frozen gasp.

"Feel good, angel?" He was attentive to you, watching your every reaction, making sure he kept his promise well. And when he glided his finger out only to press back in, he got the very answer he needed—a louder moan of his name, your hands immediately gripping the sheets beneath you. His eyes relaxed, the tips of his mouth curling up yet again with satisfaction, and he repeated the same motions: slow, gentle, delighting in the warmth of your walls around his finger.

"One more, angel. I'll need to stretch you out a little. Okay?"

Soft, soothing words against your ear guided you into his rhythm as he slipped in a second digit, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling ever so slightly to brush against a certain spot as if he knew exactly where it was from the start.

"Xavier— Xavier—" His actions drew out soft chants of his name, and he dipped his head down to suck on your neck, the sting from his bruising swirling in tandem with the feeling of his fingers stretching you out so deliciously.

"That's it, angel. What a good girl for me."

His thumb pressed on your clit, circling it a few times before moving back to rub against it, fingers still working inside of you pleasurably. Xavier hummed, mumbles of how wet you were and how tight you clenched around just his fingers—and then when you arched your back as if to ask for more, he pulled away with an incriminating schick that made you flush.

Slowly, he brought his fingers up to his mouth, closing his eyes with a moan as he sucked on them, savoring your taste. Your body burned at the sight, his words once again eliciting a soft whimper. He looked back at you with half-lidded eyes: "Mmh, next time," he murmured, "I'll definitely taste you properly."

Swallowing thickly under his gaze, you barely even processed his words, only allowing him to guide you in sliding down his clothing, a low groan resounding as his cock sprung free. Your eyes betrayed any attempts at staying calm; taking in the sight of him swollen and leaking, from all his attempts at self-control.

"Xavier..." you whispered, voice hushed, reaching out to touch him.

But he stopped you, hand on your wrist.

"No. If you touch me, I... I won't be able to please you..." His mouth turned down into a little pout, the familiar, puppy-like gaze making a momentary return before he gently moved your legs further apart, a hand on his base as he steadied himself above you. "Next time. There'll be plenty of opportunities like this in the future, and I promise you can have your way with me then."

Next time.

The thought of repeating another night of pleasure with him made you shiver with giddy excitement, even as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance.

"It might hurt a little..." He reached over to stroke the side of your face, concern ridden in his eyes even though the flush of pleasure was evident at the tips of his ears. "So tell me if you need me to stop. Okay?"

Carefully, the head of his cock finally pushed its way in, slowly sheathing itself inside of you.

"Aa-ahh...!"

A broken cry left your lips before you could stop it, clenching immediately around his length, and Xavier gently thumbed at your cheeks.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay. I've got you."

Soft whispers over your lips as he gradually eased himself in, your walls sucking around him and taking him bit by bit. The sting of it was unimaginable; the burn against your walls foreign enough to bring tears to your eyes. But when he bottomed out inside of you, his entire body pressed against yours—immediately, Xavier was kissing all over your face, drawing soothing shapes into your skin if only to distract you, unable to hide the concern that lingered in his eyes. "Are you okay, angel? Is it bad? You're really tight around me right now..."

All you could do was nod as he kissed your tears away, whimpers falling from your lips as you tried to relax your breathing.

Yet, you could feel, it wasn't quite that it hurt—the pain would fade into numbness, a feeling of being full—but your tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked at him, knowing he was finally, finally, as close as he could be.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong, angel? You're doing so well... You take me so well, angel, why are you crying?" You could hear his concern melting into a twinge of sadness, pressing his forehead against yours and searching your eyes for an answer of his own. "Does it still hurt? I'm sorry... Just a few moments, angel. I promise, I'll make you feel so, so good... Really good, angel, I swear..."

But you shook your head. Sniffling, willing yourself to stop crying, you reached up to put your arms around his neck. "No, Xavier, I'm just... Happy."

His expression changed, eyes widening slightly.

"How else can I say it...? It's always felt like there's no other place I could be safer than with you. And now, I... I have you."

You buried your face into his neck, taking several deep breaths. "I love you. So much. More than you could think, more than you could know. A-and, I'm just—happy. To give myself to you. Like... like this..."

You felt him swallow thickly at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as you felt the brunt of the effects you truly had on him. Gently, he lifted up your head, warmth, and love, and longing in his eyes that immediately swallowed you whole. "I love you, too," he whispered. "I always have. I always will."

Wiping the rest of your tears away with a soft smile, he placed another quick kiss on your lips. "May I?"

And you nodded.

Slowly, you felt his cock slide out of your wetness, the feeling of his length rubbing against your walls having you draw out a shaky breath. And then he thrust all the way back in—again. And again. And again.

Soon, his cock was thrusting in and out of your sopping wet pussy at a soft pace, hips moving against yours as he pressed against you, his lips at your shoulder dropping out soft, hushed moans of your name.

"Fuck," he cursed, shifting to bury his head into your chest as he shuddered, hot breath fanning over the curve of your breasts. "I've wanted this... For so long—"

“X-Xavie— ah—hn—”

You moaned in tandem, feeling completely at his mercy. In all that he was, he was gentle with you—soft, sultry rolls of his hips against yours, your fingers gently laced together as he brought them up to either side of your head, holding you in place enough to steady himself.

And yet, all you could do was melt.

When he raised his head to look at you once more, his hair fell over his face, silvery strands wet and sticky with sweat. You caved under this gaze of his—so vulnerable and exposed, yet the safest you had ever been, here in the warmth radiating off of your bodies as he claimed you. "So good, angel," he breathed, angling perfectly for his tip to brush against the spongy spot on your walls, just as if he had your pussy completely memorized.

In response, breathless pants fell from your lips, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place. You could relish the way his moans tangled with yours, his thrusts deep and filling, the slight, rhythmic creaking of your bed a testament to your passionate intimacy.

"Xavier," you whispered, "Xavier, Xavier, Xavier—"

He chuckled, lightly, and then when he kissed you next, releasing your hands in favor of cupping your face, entangling his fingers in your hair—the both of you were far too caught up in each other to bother. The plush fabric of his hoodie pressed warmly against your exposed chest. Tongue met tongue in a sloppy exchange of excess saliva, hushed moans melting between your lips... The squelch of your cunt and the soft pap, pap, pap of his skin against yours filled the room. Like this, you could barely bring yourself to conjure any thoughts that weren't just Xavier, Xavier, Xavier.

"...Tight," he gasped, parting from your lips as his eyes trailed down your body, lingering over where the two of you were connected. There was a white, milky ring around the base of his cock as he watched it disappear, time and time again, into the greedy walls of your pussy. "You're squeezing me... Tighter, and tighter— Fuck—"

You watched as his eyes closed, as if willing to control himself despite his length snugly wrapped into your heat. His breathing molded into sharp huffs, and you clawed at his back in raw pleasure, fisting into the soft clothing, desperate to pull him closer than close—as close as you possibly could be.

"I-I think..." You struggled to find words as you buried your head into his hair, taking in the scent of his sweat, his shampoo, and him.

"Mmh... Close?" Xavier thrust into you deeply, and the whimper you emitted served as enough proof. "It's alright. Cum for me, angel."

His words and the way he held you flush against his body sent you spiraling, vision blanking as you froze, legs in the air, a long, drawn-out moan of his name the last on your lips before all else was reduced to rapid breaths.

Immediately, your pussy clenched tight around him as he continued to pump inside of you, his own soft, rhythmic strokes becoming more erratic, more harsh. The sensitivity had you whining, but before you could dare to speak, he pulled you in and kissed you deeply, moaning loudly into your mouth.

You could feel it—your insides painted white, hot spurts of his cum hitting your walls, movements gradually stilling to a stop.

For a moment, the two of you stayed still, your legs relaxing enough to fall back over his waist, keeping him warm inside of you as you caught your breaths in silence.

You felt soft sighs into your hair as he tucked you under his chin—"...I love you," he murmured.

He nuzzled into your locks.

"And I'm... Sorry. That I disappear a lot. That I go places without telling you. I... don't want to disappoint you, so..."

You shifted, looking at him with a pout. "Please don't promise me something you won't be able to keep..."

"...I know. But I'm saying... I'll do my best. Not to make you worry. And I'll return home safe and sound, and you'll... You'll have me. You'll always have me. Okay, angel?"

A smile played at your lips. "Okay."

"For now, let's... get you cleaned up."

『 Have we met before? Maybe in another time I loved you; maybe you're the one that I would run to, don't know why it's all a blur. I think I know you... 』

⁺₊ / an: happy valentines !!!!!! the basis of this is that if xavier waited for us throughout multiple timelines... then him knowing us like the back of his hand should also apply to this context, no? i think it can't be more obvious than this just how much love i have for xavier... little pookie... he deserves the world...

++requests are open! ask away, lovelies 💕

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #love & deepspace xavier #xavier smut #xavier x reader #xavier x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by cafekitsune #divider by mikeykuns

[lovesickry]

- let the light in.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x rival femdriver!reader [1.8k] ┈⋆⭒ part 1 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: 18+, swearing .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: its kind of a filler.. ............. comment if you wanna be added to the tag list x

The shred of relief you felt after Miami was only due to the 2 week gap between races, time to focus more and time to maybe, slightly get on with things. Lando Norris had occupied your mind for far too long but no matter how many times you rerouted your thoughts, It wasn’t helping. You were still furious, you just couldn’t afford to be, it was interfering with everything you did now. An obsession, an annoying, tugging, nagging thing in the back of your brain. It wasn't supposed to be like this, you've been impeded before and gotten readily over it, why was time different. It had you hung on it and you hated it.

Since Miami there had been countless articles covering the crash and both you and Lando’s reaction to it. Most were fine, others were less so, but thanks to the work being done by your PR officer who told you exactly what to say when posed with any kind of question regarding the “incident” in Miami. Most unpleasant experiences were completely uninteresting and not warranting any article worthy statements. Proof of Mercedes PR managing skills as you watched Lewis laugh to himself when you spoke through gritted teeth how the crash wasn't “anyone's fault”.

Lewis was amazing, you couldn't have asked for a better teammate. Always calm, always kind and always supportive. He was the first to comfort you after Miami and the first to compliment your driving rather than your "composure". Sadly you couldn't spend every moment with Lewis and when he got some world champion privileges, like picking and choosing his media days, you did not. Which meant on Thursday when it was told to you who would be in press together you nearly had an aneurysm because it would just be you and the 2 McLaren members. Of course, of fucking course. Where was Lewis, anywhere but here. You wished you could’ve gone with him. Maybe when you have a few world championships under your belt Toto will let you skip out on media duties.

༊*·˚ SPANISH GRAND PRIX 2022

Spain definitely wasn’t cold the first day you arrived on track, briefing with the engineers and teams before being escorted to press. You spoke with Daniel before going in, you know he has it hard with McLaren, they treat him like shit and it’s starting to show, you laughed a bit before you felt Danny go stiff and you knew who must’ve arrived.

“Hey mate” Lando pulls Danny in for a kind of high five, handshake thing. Weird.

You're still just standing there. 

“Oh hey Dylan, I didn’t know we were doing press together”

You smile weakly and nod, you know he's lying. Danny gives you a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry if they ask me a bunch of questions about my win, i know it might be a bit annoying for you” he was half joking, but it still made you fucking mad. 

He was so cocky you fucking hated it. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll have lots to say, it is quite a momentous thing anyway, first win in formula one and it only took crashing into me."

He snorts at that and Danny gives you a knowing look.

Lando walks towards you some more and goes to open his mouth before Danny steps between you two. 

“Yeah alright, alright, lets just calm down okay”

Always the mediator. You were silently grateful as you were suddenly ushered into the press conference glaring at the back of Lando’s head and sitting down between the 2 drivers. You wished you were anyway but here as you looked out at the boppings heads of journalists and the prying eyes. 

“My question is for dylan”

Your head perked up, initially zoned out. You nod at the journalist for them to continue.

“How confident are you feeling about Spain after Miami?”

Good this was good, remaining fairly neutral. Thank you.

“Yeah, I mean, in Miami the car was insane, but I did find myself struggling just in regards to wear on the tires and grip with the street circuit a bit more, but the team is expecting great things from the car this weekend, so yeah. Fairly confident.” you nod and move the microphone away from your face to signal that you’d finished. 

The conversation flows on and you suddenly feel a hand on the back of your neck, quickly glancing next to you. You’re met with a smug Lando Norris who happens to have his arms spread out over the couch. You scoot slightly away from him and see the smirk that follows as you express your dis-comfort. You shoot him a look, which he responds to by moving closer to you and again touching the back of your neck. As his cold hands touch the skin at the back of your neck you subconsciously take a deep breath in. Was he this fucking stupid, what was the media gonna say about this shit. You couldn’t move away again it would seem unnatural, but the way his touch felt on you was wrong, you tried to not let it affect you. Not let him affect you, but it was, you try thinking about anything else, but all you can feel is his hands on your neck. He’s taunting you, playing you. His hand remains there until the end of the press conference to which you promptly flee from. So promptly in fact you have Danny chasing after you to check if you’re alright, you insist that you are and then pose the idea of dinner with him and Heidi soon, you guys hadn’t caught up in a while. He smiles at this and gives you a pat on the back before walking back to the McLaren garage as you walk to the Mercedes garage. 

On Friday There's a few team meetings before you get ready to hop into the car, the activity you had been anxiously anticipating since Miami. Hopping into the car going into practice 1 is reminiscent, it had only been two weeks but you’d missed it. Pulling out of the pit lane ready to hear the car once more. 

Practice 1 was less than satisfying, a meagre P8. However practice 2 was much more fun, as it always is, needing a little bit of warming up to things you clocked a P2. Getting out of the car for the day smiling was something that even your engineer was shocked about. Everyone had been shocked with your performance but you’d never been outwardly impressed with yourself. Maybe now it was just a reminder that the man who took your win was struggling significantly more with his McLaren than you were with your Mercedes. He got under your skin, now it was your turn to get under his.

Saturday rolled around and you had a pep in your step, you had a good feeling. The car felt great and you loved the track too. You hadn’t gone around spain too much but you’d reserved a few days to look around that weren't going for runs with your trainer. You said hi to Lewis in the morning as you sat down with the team, debriefing on yesterday’s results and car performance, Lewis had a small problem with his brakes yesterday that the mechanics said they had fixed, you raised the problem of a small oversteer but how it was not too much of an effect to your driving yesterday. You hopped into the car feeling settled and your engineer who you'd had a talk to before had advised you to “push even more”. So you did, you pushed the whole time and in doing so, pulled the car into P3, honourable but down a place since FP2. 

Sat in your drivers room, legs-crossed sitting, a ritual for qualifying, calm before the storm. You are interrupted with 2 short knocks, you thought it might be holly (your physio) so you get up and don't hesitate to open the door. You roll your eyes at the smirking fucking face you see, you close the door almost immediately to which he only opens it again. 

“Rude” he says. 

“Fuck off”

“Just wanted to wish you good luck” his voice is high and taunting.

You glare at him, you’d been doing better than him all season he’s the one who needs “good luck”.

“I should be saying that to you, considering your results in practice”

He throws his head back and laughs, acting as though you've wounded him.

you walk towards him, hoping that with the movement he’ll edge towards the exit, but he stays put, looking at you. 

You tense your jaw and walk past him, opening the door, gesturing for him to leave.

“Good luck”

He walks out with a grin on his face. What the fuck did he get from riling you up like this?

Holly, your physio finally arrives and you greet her with relief as you get prepped for qualifying. Holly was both friend and doctor as you knew her and she was always there to listen when you had drama to talk about, this specific one relating to a certain boy wearing orange who couldn’t seem to stop annoying you. She laughed at the gestures you made and stayed to talk as the PR officer came to talk to you about the Post-quali interviews and while you put on your fireproofs, telling you about her most recent life events. As you climbed into the car, still mouthing the words of the last song that played in your eyes, you wished you weren’t thinking of one thing: him. You begin your lap with a blank mind, pushing and pushing and pushing the car and the thoughts out of your mind of anything. Especially him. Its gruelling going into Q3 but you do it and your engineer is giving you points on where to push. 

“That's P4 Dylan” 

“Thank you” you say out of breath.

“Thank you”

“Great job”

You leave the track that night with a sense of satisfaction, not once thinking of him as you drive to your hotel. 

tag list:

@eviethetheatrefreak, @fairiesdowntheroad, @landosgirlxoxo,@hiraethrhapsody, @hockeyboysarehot

#source: cafekitsune #f1 #f1 fic #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris enemies to lovers #lando norris rivals #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments. 

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give. 

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter. 

It’s true then. “He’s gone.” 

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug. 

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?” 

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.” 

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught. 

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?” 

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.” 

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?” 

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy. 

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?” 

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.” 

“He’ll get there.” 

You puff air out from between your teeth. 

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets. 

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could. 

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean? 

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?” 

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.” 

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility. 

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe. 

For now; you let it go. You let him go. 

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?” 

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.” 

“We should help them.” 

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise. 

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot. 

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort. 

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine. 

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?” 

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.” 

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating. 

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely. 

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.” 

He immediately tenses up. “What job?” 

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone. 

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?” 

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes. 

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys. 

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.” 

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?” 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“Not for a fucking second.” 

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else. 

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.” 

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame. 

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.  

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow. 

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.” 

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter. 

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.” 

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.” 

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already. 

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes. 

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere. 

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up. 

“Why not?” 

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up. 

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.” 

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut? 

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.” 

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.” 

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks. 

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.  

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.” 

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family. 

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?” 

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.” 

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that. 

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand. 

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?” 

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that. 

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.” 

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity. 

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.” 

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”  

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.” 

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.” 

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance. 

“All set for the hike, Captain?” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them. 

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?” 

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.” 

Somewhere new. 

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.” 

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started. 

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided. 

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself. 

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed. 

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential. 

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over. 

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you. 

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.” 

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For a proper goodbye.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.” 

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.” 

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet. 

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it. 

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him. 

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance. 

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Maybe one day, that will even be enough. 

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”  

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace. 

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you. 

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago. 

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead. 

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind. 

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present. 

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead. 

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that. 

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?” 

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?” 

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?” 

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you. 

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet. 

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…” 

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory? 

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it. 

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.” 

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series

[lavandula-ipsum]

The rain will hide us

gif by @tatooineknights

Summary: Stranded on an unkown planet, you've fallen sick. Thankfully, Luke is there with you. However, you might not be the only one in need of care.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Tags: Luke Skywalker x GN!Reader, force sensitive reader, comfort, fluff, mentions of injuries, one-shot. Angst somehow got in.

The paleness of the morning starts to filtrate through the tent, drawing the dark little spots left by quiet raindrops. Their clatter serves as a gentle wake up call while, outside, an unexplored jungle sleeps.

“How are you feeling?” Before you can even shift in your sleeping bag, Luke has already turned his attention to you, lying a kind hand on your shoulder. For a second, you miss the times when you could have just watched him for a couple of minutes before choosing to signal that you’re awake.

Truth is you feel like shit. A trash compactor could have chewed and spit you out while you were unconscious for all you know. At the effort of answering his question, a raspy whine leaves your sore throat. “Better.”

He’s sitting next to you, not very convinced. There’s urgency tingling the tips of his fingers, you can feel it through the Force. “Is it okay if I check?”

An almost imperceptible shivery note haunts his voice. In the dark circles under his eyes you can sense a long and rough night. You nod. Even though you can feel the last remnants of sickness haven't completely faded from your exhausted body, the back of his hand is warm against your burning cheek and forehead. With an alleviated sigh, Luke finally lets his hand slide down your arm.

“You still have a fever, but it isn’t as high anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Do you remember the crash?”

“A little. I remember the battle, the evacuation when the ship went down.” The mission you embarked on seems to have failed spectacularly. You try to sweep away the thoughts of your fallen comrades, at least till you get back and get to know for sure how many of them are actually gone. “We got into the same escape pod and… this atmosphere messed with the navigation systems, I guess.” You grumble, rubbing the side of your head. “Why don’t I remember much after that?”

“You were trapped in the wreckage for a few minutes. I couldn’t take you out earlier. (Y/N), I’m so sorry. You got some cuts and superficial burns. Perhaps a broken rib.” Oh, so that’s what the bandages are for. And probably why you’ve been stripped down to your standard issue underwear. Suddenly, Luke avoids your gaze and an uncomfortable ripple flutters through the Force, but you’re too distracted frowning at the new scratch across his cheek.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But you… You were feverish the whole night.” He continues, bringing the med kit closer to show you a box of painkillers, an empty stim canister, an open tube of pomade, anxious to let you know everything he gave you while you were unconscious.

“It’s ok.” You set your hand over his to stop his nervous tinkering through the med kit. “I trust you, Luke. How many times have we done this? Tell me, what happened next?”

He licks his lips, then looks down at his hands. “You became really sick.”

“I’m sorry. I must have scared you. This is all my fault.” You groan before he can start giving you a thousand reasons why it isn’t. “It really is. I knew I was already sick before the mission. It was just a cold two days ago, but I guess it made me more vulnerable to whatever I caught here.”

Luke shifts closer to you, suddenly alarmed. “Why did you come to this mission then? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You remember those agonizing moments when he didn’t show up at the rendezvous point after the battle of Hoth, gone to Force knows where, while you were left alone wondering if he’d been killed. Turns out he’d just left on his own. It’s not as if he owed you any explanation, you were merely friends. He's fated to go out there and do things so far greater than anything having to do with you. So you tried to slap yourself out of this silly anxiety. After all, the others were gone with the Falcon too, and you had to resign yourself to the faith that they'd be alright. 

And then Luke came back, his body battered and his spirit broken worse than you’d ever seen before or since.

Shyly, you slide your fingers out of your cover. He quickly holds them in between his palms. You’re sure the sky outside the tent would pale in comparison with the intensity of his tired gaze right now, glassy and blue. And yet, all you manage to conjure in response is a lie.

“I wanted to feel useful. The Rebellion needs all the hands it can get.” 

If he realizes, he doesn’t say anything. He just leans in to warm your cold hand with his breath. Luke might not be a full Jedi just yet, but he can probably sense how tired you are of this game of claiming guilt for everything, of just rambling around the edges of what neither of you feel brave enough to say. He just knows you that inescapably well.

For now, the tent has become quiet, so quiet you can even hear him swallow. After a second of allowing yourself to stare at the muscles of his neck tense up and relax with the motion, you look down and sink your flaming face into the sleeping bag.

Against his advice, you sit up. The chill bites your exposed skin, setting a feverish tremor within your chest. However, you don’t let him make you settle back into the bedding.

“Can I say something without it turning into another exchange of apologies?” you ask. Noticing your sudden eagerness, he nods. However, his hands remain close, as if you were about to collapse. “Thank you for saving my life. Truly.”

He seems about to reply with some excuse, probably minimizing himself once again, but you raise a warning finger along with a threatening expression. It makes him laugh, brighter than he’s laughed in months. It lasts too little for your taste, but at least the smile lingers on his face.

“Ok, you win this one. Now, that pomade needs to be reapplied.”

After taking a panicked second to realize what he’s asking, you turn slightly so he can get better access to the burn, which covers the back of your shoulder and part of your right arm. Luke scooches closer till you’re basically sitting between his legs. You wonder if he notices his warmth setting you aflame, but he seems too busy readying the ointment to even look at you, his eyes half hidden under soft locks of weathered gold. However, a loaded silence falls in the tent, during which you feel the urge to cover your front with the sleeping bag. 

“It’s gonna feel a little cold,” he warns before touching you, his voice barely audible.

You had already made up your mind to behave and not show any sign of discomfort, but you need to turn away to hide your face. Honestly, you’re not sure if it’s the painkillers or the surreal ambience around you, but you swear you’ve never been treated by gentler hands. As they work to spread the medicine, you hold yourself together barely enough to not just let go and plop yourself on his lap. You feel beyond beaten, and over your head a thick cloud keeps your judgment in a state of relaxed lethargy. Truth is his welcoming stance, along with the way his fingers caress your tender skin as he softly talks you through the process, isn’t helping your already lazy resolve.  

“I’m so glad, it doesn’t seem like it got infected. I think there’s a chance it won’t leave a scar once we can get you proper treatment back in the fleet.”

You hum half heartedly in response, doing your best to join in the effort to evade the silence instead of entertaining the thought that you don’t actually want to go back. Because he wouldn’t be with you then. Luke has been avoiding the fleet since Bespin, and you've made up your mind to follow him for as long as he wants you around.

“Have you been awake the whole night? Meditating?”

“Not meditating. Standing guard.”

When he finishes up your new bandages, you hear the rustling of knots coming undone and, right after, you’re covered with Luke’s outer robe. Apparently, your top had to be cut off your body when he first tended to your wounds. As he helps drape the garment around your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves careful to not graze your wounds, the warmth it still bears surrounds you. Ah, it smells like him too. 

Luke seems ready to offer an excuse to quiet your concerns over his lack of sleep, but it fizzles out before your demanding frown. A pained flare crosses behind his eyes as his Force signature heats up around you. He doesn’t mean to leave you out of his thoughts, he truly doesn’t. It’s just that lately they’ve been a mess not even he has felt ready to untangle. And, if he’s not ready to talk, you won’t push him. However, this silence is a little needle to your heart, and the jab reaches him when it becomes too painful for you to hide.

“I tried to meditate until I had to give up. I couldn’t find the peace for it. You were trembling and twisting in your sleep, burning with fever… mumbling things.”

“Were they embarrassing?” you joke, trying to lift the mood a little. However, instead of following you down that path, you feel a little tug. He’s lightly pulling at the edge of your sleeve, well, his.

“Don’t leave me. Please, stay.”

The pressure around your wrist makes it sound like an apology. Why? For letting you fall sick? For leaving you behind and going to Dagobah on his own? You’re getting tired of riddles, and you’re already trembling from the effort of sitting up straight. Your hand lands on his shoulder, a gesture that seems to finally break him out of his spiraling thoughts and look at you.

“And you did. You stayed.”

An exhalation later, you’re buried in his chest. It’s hard to tell who initiated the hug when you’re enthralled by how melting into each other makes everything else melt away. Luke’s hands travel down your hair, and you wonder when taking in this soothing became as easy as breathing. Well, not exactly. There needs to be a spell, a certain quietness to the air like the one flooding the tent right now. Melancholy is usually the trigger, the signature to the wordless contract between the two of you that grants you permission to indulge in this kind of comfort. Later you’d usually dream awake about it, lost in the memory of what feels forbidden during the daylight. It aches a little that at least one of you needs to be in some kind of pain to feel allowed this kind of intimacy. 

A sigh brushes against your ear as Luke barely dares to talk in a whisper. “What if I can’t do this?” 

“Don’t worry, the Rebellion knows we’re here, we’ll be out of here in no time…”

“Not that. It’s about-” The words get lost as they’re spilled from his lips. Luke lets out a shaky breath before sinking deeper into your hair. “Everything.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“You always do.” 

“And listen, I truly believe there’s a special path ahead of you. A bright one. However, no matter what happens, even if things go wrong, I’ll be here. I mean- we all will. We’ll love you all the same.”

You nuzzle up closer against him, prompting a pleased sigh out of him. 

“I’ve been leaning on you too much.”

You chuckle, “how so? You just saved me in, like, five different ways just during the last twelve hours.”

“What you do is way more difficult.”

A hand cradles your head close to his chest, while his other arm surrounds you. And, as the silence settles once again, you finally feel him relax around you as your hands travel up his back. Through his thin inner tunic, the heartbeat pressed against your cheek allows itself to slow down a little. 

“You take a nap now. I’ll keep watch.”

“You’re hurt,” he complains. “And sick.”

“I’ll have a blaster at hand and wake you up as soon as I hear anything outside, I swear.” You hush him before he can complain. “Do I need you to remind you of your instruction, commander? If you don’t rest you’ll compromise the mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

“Get back to base, safe and sound. And stick together until then.”

Luke brushes your cheek with his thumb, as if to check again if your fever has gone down enough to leave the task to you. “Yeah, I might be able to do that.”

So you get back in the sleeping bag so as to not get cold, and he lays down over it next to you. He does so a bit skittish at first, so you interlock his fingers with yours and guide him down to the most comfortable spot, next to you. Soon, exhaustion defeats any remaining fear and Luke feels brave enough to wrap an arm around you. Soon, sleep has taken him.With your heart coming to a halt, you finally dare to take in his features. Even though a shadow of worry still darkens his brow, his features look softer than you’ve seen lately. It takes you back to those early days in the Rebellion when you weren’t nearly as close, but talking seemed easier. So you stay awake, treasuring every deep breath and the faint rainfall in the background, until the distant buzz of the Millennium Falcon fades the spell away.

link to the source gifset

#my writing #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #gn reader #hurt/comfort #yearning and longing #one shot #f/o #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

[spiderlyla]

Crave — Miguel O'Hara

summary: now, who brought in that aphrodisiac and left it unattended?

tags: alchemax scientist!fem!reader × miguel o'hara

warnings: miguel & reader are both under the effects of an aphrodisiac (verbal consent is there of course!), biting, oral sex, extreme smut, counter-top sex.

a.n: ah!! so so sorry for not posting anything. got a huge writer's block and was really busy these past couple of days. hope you guys enjoy this <3

taglist: @mamu-writes   , @general-dweebous , @beezblep @tkays21 , @spicysleepysloth , @saturnringzzz , @crazy-ravioli , @nanamisleftnipple , @boringpersonality , @theawkwardpedestrian , @amirohara , @doggydale , @quiaipia, @s0fia4 , @ilovefanfictionsm , @boraward

miguel liked the night shift. he liked the serene calm it came with. the labs that once bustled with life completely empty, obnoxious co-workers long gone. he liked being the only one in the halls, he liked being able to conduct his research on the theory of the the multiverse without having prying eyes constantly following his every move.

he also liked the night shift because he knew full well you'd also be there.

you never got any of your research done in the morning, far too busy with paperwork and doing some of your incompetent co-worker's jobs for them. he'd listen to you complain during lunch that you will never get that promotion if you didn't focus on your own work, so he suggested you stay after-hours like him if you had the energy to. since then, he sees you around the labs during the night shift.

almost all the scientists work during the earlier shift, so you had every single lab to yourself, but the only problem with that is you had to clean up the accumulated mess from the morning. your co-workers were inconsiderate, messy and only cared about results, and for the most part, they leave alot of chemicals and exposed samples for anyone to stumble upon. it was quite upsetting how many members of the cleaning crew were lost due to their carelessness, so you took it upon yourself to never let any accidents happen again.

miguel knew about your little habit and often came to help you. he thought it was sweet, how considerate and kind you are, fussing over the safety of others when most did not.

after he was done with his research—or rather, after he got stumped and the coffee was not doing anything to make his brain function anymore— he made his way to your lab. you worked in the biology department, just a few floors down from his own. he made his way downstairs, and into the only lab lit by those pesky florescent lights. he knocked first, as not to startle you, then stepped inside.

it seemed like you also had finished your research, because the place was tidied up. vials of different chemicals labeled and put on a high shelf (making him wonder if you had to stand on the counter just to reach it, usually he helped get everything on the shelves), samples of various anatomical parts all closed shut and put to the side, tools tucked neatly inside the drawers. you've done it all, yet you hadn't gone home yet.

"done cleaning up already?" his voice echoes through the room, but you do not react to it. odd, he thought. you've been standing at the counter at the very front of the room, seemingly staring at something. you were bending down just slightly over the counter, hands on the edge of the marble surface. you were not moving and he could not see your face. concerned, miguel moved a few steps forward. "are you okay? did you hurt yourself?" the more he stepped closer, the more he realised that you weren't exactly still, you were shaking. he picked up his pace, eyebrows furrowed. "hey, hey, I'm here—"

"miguel—" your voice stops him. it wasn't hoarse, but rather strained. his name rolled off your tounge like honey, followed by a quiet moan. "d‐don't come any closer, okay?" he didn't listen, too stubborn and too worried to heed your words. he moved in beside you, finally spotting what's on the counter.

it is a jar, or rather, was a jar. he spotted the glass shards shards sitting in a neat pile by the edge of the counter. a pink liquid covered the entire surface, with a singular flower laying in the middle of the table.

it smelled good. maybe to you it didn't smell like anything, but to him, it smelled sweet. the arouma filled his nostrils, fogging up his brain a little. "are you hurt? did one of those shards get in your hands?" you shook your head. he put one hand on the counter, accidently touching the liquid. He moved to wipe it on his lab coat, only to realise his skin had absorbed it. The other hand moved to rest on your back. you flinched at his touch, something you've never done before, taking a few steps back.

confused, he moved with you. "what's wrong?" you shook your head again. under the fluorescent lights, he could see your cheeks flushed with colour, your eyes shut tight. "talk to me. what's that—"

"you should leave—please!"

"I won't leave without—"

he choked up on his own words, an odd sensation filling his body. something formed in his core, an unexplainable heat begging to be put out. his muscles tensed up, he could feel his cock hardening and twitching underneath the fabric of his trousers, throbbing against his underwear. his hands clutched the edge of the counter, and though his brain was fogging up, he knew full well what was happening.

"it's an aphrodisiac." he stated, gaining no response from you. "how long have you been trying to clean this up?"

"a few minutes–" you shuddered, hands wrapping around yourself. unlike him, you felt cold, extremely so. "–I touched that liquid a few times.."

"meirda.." he cussed, it felt a bit painful now. he looked up at you, you couldn't even stand up straight. poor baby, if he could just—

"you touched it too.." this was the first time you've met his eyes since he entered. pupils dilated, eyelids heavy with lust. the realisation must've switched something inside of you, or maybe it was the prolonged exposure to this goddamn material, but your energy had shifted completely. "i've—i've read that this only goes away if–"

"I know." he knew he could handle it by himself, this wasn't his first experience with something like this, but he knew full well you couldn't. you wouldn't even be able to get home in this state. you took a few steps towards him, the scent of your body dizzying him. "do you...want to?"

of course he wanted to. he wanted to for a while now, but he never wanted it to go like this. he wanted to take you out first, a few times, maybe even ask you to be together before you could do anything like what you were suggesting. he wanted you, yes, but he wanted you to give yourself to him because you are fully aware of it, not because of an aphrodisiac. "doesn't matter. if it'll help you, i'll do it. do you want to?"

you silently nod, cheeks flushed a darker colour than before. miguel moves towards you, until he has your back pressed up against the cold counter. his hand finds your cheek, the proximity of your bodies warming up your chilly body, while calming down the heat radiating off of him.

miguel's lips brush against yours, but you're impatient. you wrap your arms around his neck and throw yourself at him, capturing him in a desperate kiss. that was enough for him to let go of any rationality he had left.

his big hands work on the front of your blouse, never daring to break the kiss. in a minute, the fabric is thrown off somewhere in the lab, and you were on the counter, legs spread open. he pulled away and you whined at the loss of contact, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt. "Paciencia, hermosa," He dips into the crook of your neck, fangs protruding and grazing against the tender skin. the smell of your skin smells more addicting than any aphrodisiac. "i'm not going anywhere." he sinks his teeth into your sweet spot, and you let out a loud moan, hands fumbling with the buttons on his button up. "m-miguel, please—"

"i'll take care of you, don't worry." he pushs your trembling hands off of him, and takes off his shirt, throwing it beside your own. your hands quickly wrap around his shoulders, and your legs wrap around his bare waist. a guttural groan escaped his lips as he caught yours in another breathy kiss. your skin felt soothing, extinguishing that extreme heat from his body. he couldn't stop biting you, hearing those sweet moans and dirty cuss words come out of your pretty mouth only motivated him furthur. your hands felt brilliant tangeled up in his hair, the occasional tugs making him bite down on your skin a little more, making sure to leave a mark. he slipped your bra off of you, one hand fondling your tender breast, squeezing and teasing your sensitive nipples. when you let out an approving noise, he grins, proud. "you like that, mi sol?"

before you could answer, his talons rip your skirt right off, and despite your haze you let out a squeal. the sweet smell of you fills his nostrils, that throbbing between his legs becoming unbearably painful. his lips part with your chest, and instead, you find him peppering kisses all over your abdomen, hands wrapping around the fabric of your soaked underwear. he pulls it down, and instantly lets out a grunt. "pobrecita, how long have you been waiting for me to come?" he runs one of his thick fingers between your folds, collecting your slick. "a-a while—" he goes to taste, but you grab his hand and suck on his finger.

he almost creamed his pants like a teenager right then and there.

"fuck, you greedy little thing," he pulls his fingers out and kneels down infront of you, tip of his nose brushing against your swollen clit. "you smell good, so good." his tounge laps at your heat and you scream his name out. his hands knead the plush skin of your thighs while keeping you still, as he continued to eat you out like a man in drought. everytime his nose bumped against your clit, you'd arch your back and moan his name in broken fragments. "you're so sweet, i can't get enough, queirda."

"ah, mig, please, m'close." He stands up when your legs begin trembling and a few tears form in your eyes. he kisses them away, "ah, ah, not so fast, nena." you feel something heavy on your abdomen, and your eyes flutter open. his cock is resting on your stomach, long and thick, the tip an angry shade of red. your walls clench.

your eyes meet his crimson ones, "please, miggy." the little nickname you once used to tease him, sounded much better to his liking when he had you like this. "please what?" he wanted to hear it, more than anything. "i-i need you, please, miggy—" he silences you almost immediately, putting the tip in while pressing his lips against yours.

muffled noises come of your mouth and spill into his, the stretch felt so incredible that you almost passed out. his girth filled you up and he wasn't even all the way in. "nngh, too big—"

"you'll take it." his voice is hoarse and he groans everytime your walls clench around him. he pushs inside you, all the way in and stays still. sweat forms at his forehead as he tries his best not to ram into you all of a sudden. "good girl, see?" his praise makes you nod, and without any warnings, he moves. he was slow and careful at first, watching his tip buldge your stomach everytime he thrusted. your walls felt warm and plush around him, greedily squeezing him out. he picks up the pace, rutting into you as his mind fogs up. "such," your screams of pleasure are like music to his ear, "a pretty," his name sounds gorgeous when it falls off your lips, he didn't know how much he'll enjoy hearing it like this, "little thing, taking me so well."

his thursts become sloppier, your grip on his hair sends shockwaves of painful pleasure down his entire body. "mm–miguel—miguel!" the sounds of your intertwined bodies, the smell of sex and that obnoxiously sweet arouma that lingered from the aphrodisiac drove him feral. he pushed deeper and deeper, hitting your g-spot over and over again. your insides clenched around him, "m'mclose, mig—"

"that's it, thaaat's it, pretty girl." the praise edged you over, and you let out a final string of moans as you came all over his cock. he continued to thrust harder and harder into you, and pulled out just in time, painting your stomach and chest white. that heat in his body finally evaporated, as he set his head on your shoulder, the two of you panting heavily.

your body is still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm, so he holds you. he could tell the effects of the aphrodisiac were completely wearing off, because the worry of your reaction to what just happened began to settle in. you turn your head towards him, eyes cloudy but all the more alluring. in his opinion, you never looked more beautiful.

"hey." you sound embaressed, "that...was.."

"intense." He completes, looking at the mess he left on your body. hundreds of love bites all over your entire body, puncture wounds on your shoulder blades, neck, and your inner thighs. you laugh, and he smiles, "I was going to say unsanitary."

"Oh, that too." He chuckles, "I'll clean it up, don't worry."

"I think that's enough cleaning up for us." you try to sit up, but you're still too weak to move. miguel helps you up, hand supporting your back. when he tries to move away, you stop him, putting a hand on his cheek, and pressing your lips against his plump ones. this kiss is different. it's geniune, not hungry, not desperate, but sweet, truthful.

tender.

he doesn't move away, kissing you back until you move away. you set your head on his forehead, spending a moment in calm silence. then, he speaks.

"do you want to grab dinner?" the question evokes a breathy laugh out of you, and you nod. "but I don't think I can go anywhere looking like this. what about takeout? your place?"

he nods.

"takeout, my place."

#miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel o hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #fem reader #so sorry for the wait #love u guys

[slxsherwriter]

Love is a Labor

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairings: Rusty Nail x Single Mother reader

Word count: 2,127

Warnings: None

Author's note: This is for @umnitsa who had asked for a second part of A Chance at New Beginnings and have it be fluff (sorry I couldn't expand on the further part of that request this was where my brain went). Have some soft, domestic Rusty.

Tagging: @tinalbion

“Are you really sure about this?” The question came for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last hour. It was coming from a place of good intentions, that much was well known. But after so many times, that raw nerve of irritation was starting to flare. 

“Yes. The answer isn't going to change. It hasn't yet, and it won't.” Your friend sighed beside you, still not convinced that this was anything other than a bad idea. A fact that had also been aired out several times over the last two days. Ever since you announced the plans to meet up with Rusty. This time with Michael in tow. 

“I just…I got a bad feeling about this guy. You've met him once, talked to him, what? Three times? And now you are going to meet him with your kid?” All good and valid points. You were thankful for the concern and the worry. It meant that she cared. What she didn't know? You had been talking with Rusty almost nightly for the past month. Yeah, you had only met with him once up until now. Maybe it was a little silly, but his presence had made you feel safe, far safer than anyone else in your life had ever managed. He had already proven himself good with Michael. So why not? Did it feel a little like a rebound after what you had gone through with your ex? Slightly. But that wasn't the point. Rusty was kind, patient, and caring. You considered him a good friend. The attraction that you had to the man that had seemingly ignited out of nowhere was just a side point. 

“I get you're worried, and I appreciate it. I really do. But there isn't anything to be worried about, okay? It's not like I'm going to meet up with him at some motel. We are meeting in a public place. You know where I'll be, and there are going to be plenty of other people around.”

“I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" It wasn't defeat in her voice but awful close to it.

“Not a chance.” You leaned in and gave your friend a hug. “Everything's going to be just fine, okay? I know it.” The huff that came from her told you all that you needed to know; she didn't believe a word that you had said and was still going to panic over the entire thing. If it wasn't, well, she would get to say I told you so. Michael appeared in the doorway, wearing a grin and tucking his truck into the little backpack he carried everywhere. 

“Come on, mom.” There hadn't been this sort of impatience about him before. It was endearing and solidified your choice in this whole thing. “If we're late, we might miss him.”

“We aren't going to miss him, I promise.” You scooped your son up into your arms and smiled. “Got everything?” He nodded.

“You two be careful, okay?”.

“We will be. Let's get going then.” You got Michael's shoes on and tucked him up in his jacket before heading out the door and to the agreed meeting spot. Location services on your phone turned on as per the request of your friend and current roommate. 

Okay, so the meeting spot wasn't exactly largely full of people. You had opted for a park. Still a little dangerous, yes, but you truly weren't worried. Besides, it gave Michael open space to play and be away from the man if he did feel uncomfortable. He was four after all, being cramped into a coffee shop, or something of the like wasn't fair. The weather was nice enough, just on the right side of chilly and clouds provided just enough cover where the sun wasn't constantly beaming down into eyes. You had settled on a bench, letting Mike play with the trucks that he brought in the sand not too far off. 

“Excuse me, that seat taken?” The low, gravelly voice was one you could recognize in your sleep by now. 

“Well, I was saving it for someone,” you offered back, looking up at the towering figure with a grin. You couldn't entirely see his face from how he was standing, hat keeping half of his face shielded. “But, I guess I could offer it. You seem like a nice man.”

“Very kind of you.” Rusty moved to settle on the bench beside you. Not close enough that he was pressed against your side but enough that you could feel the heat radiating from the man. A pleasant feeling. “How are you doing today, darling?”

“I'm good. How are you?” He looked tired. Had he come right from the road here? You wouldn't have been surprised. From your understanding, he lived further south on a nice quiet piece of land. It sounded like a little slice of heaven, if you could be honest. That felt like too much to say to the man, though, so it was a thought you kept to yourself. His eyes found you before flicking briefly to Michael. 

“Got nothing to complain about.” Michael looked up and saw the man sitting beside you, and all else was immediately forgotten about, trucks abandoned in the sand to run over to you both. 

“Are you Rusty?” Rusty leaned forward just a little bit, elbows resting against his knees. 

“I am. You must be Michael.” Your son beamed at the recognition, lightly bouncing on his feet.

“Do you really drive a big truck?” Rusty chuckled softly at the eager question that came. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered that Michael had launched right into the questioning. Others may have been. 

“I do. Even drove it here. If your ma says it's, we can go look at it.” Michael's eyes widened almost impossibly large before his head whipped to you. 

“Can we mom? Please?” He had never been in a real truck before. You could hear your friends voice screaming in your head about how terrible an idea it was, but at the same time, you truly felt no danger from the man and trusted that everything would be safe. There was also a worry that if you denied his request, the poor boy might just have spontaneous combust. There was a risk of that happening, too, with you agreeing. But it was a far better risk. 

“Of course, but you have to listen to everything he says, okay? I don't want you getting hurt because you are so excited.”

“I promise.” 

“No better time than now. Whatcha think, big man?” Michael was ecstatic, and the yes that came was both enthusiastic and loud. “Go get your stuff, and we'll go look at my truck.” If it had been a cartoon, there would have been burn marks trailing behind him. You couldn't help the small laugh and fond shake of your head. Your son was something else. 

“I think you might have made his year.” He was leaning back, and before you knew it, his arm was around your shoulders. Heavy but fully pleasant. A sensation that you could get used to quickly. 

“Now I just need to find out how to make yours.” The flirting tease had heat rising to your cheeks. There wasn't a quick response to that, and the floundering surely had to be clear to him. His warm breath ghosted over your cheek as his lips briefly pressed to the skin. “That blush is mighty cute, darling.” Yeah, he absolutely had you there. However, Michael came running back over and cut off anything else that might have been said. Standing up, you took the tiny hand that was held out to you. Though, you didn't move since Michael hesitated just a second before reaching his other out to Rusty. 

Your heart melted as he didn't seem to take even a second to think about it. His large hand dwarfed Michael's, more so than your own. Then, the three of you were off to his truck. 

Finding parking for the rig clearly hadn't been easy since it was a bit of a walk to where he had left it. Not that it seemed to matter all that much as your son's excitement filled the silence and the distance.

“You said it was black, right? Why black?” As soon as Rusty would finish answering one, another would come. “Does it have a really loud horn?” And so on it went until you came to the rig. You knew almost nothing about trucks, but the monster of a truck seemed to fit the man with you in an odd way. Rusty knelt down, letting go of Michael's hand. 

“All right. Now, I know you promised your ma that you were going to listen. And we don't lie to ma, right?” Michael nodded, staring intently at the man. “Good. Now, I'm gonna have to pick you up to get in. I don't want you climbing yourself, trying to get in or out. It's a long way up, and you could get hurt if you do fall. I need you to hold on real tight. Can you do that?” Michael glanced at you, wanting the reassurance it seemed. There was a bit of that shy nature coming out. 

“It’s okay, buddy.” Rusty waited patiently, his eyes not leaving Michael this time. “You don't have to if you don't want to, but if you want to see the inside of the truck, Rusty has to carry you up.” 

“It's up to you.” Rusty backed up the fact that no one was forcing him to do anything that he didn't want to do. A few more seconds passed before Michael finally nodded. 

“Okay.” His curiosity and eagerness about the truck had trumped the shyness. 

“All right. Let me go get it unlocked and opened up, okay?” He pushed back up and moved off to his truck after shooting you a smile. You reached out to take the backpack from your son, kneeling down beside him to help soothe any of the nerves that he still had going on. 

“This is exciting! Getting to go into a truck like that.” He nodded, eyes moving from the truck to you and back. “Everything's going to be okay.” Finally, a smile came to his face. That was more what you wanted to see. Rusty came wandering back over. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” He knelt down so that Michael could come to him, lifting him up only when your son had wrapped his arms around the man's neck. You followed right alongside them, unable to help yourself from grinning as more excitement came forth from Michael. “Why don't you get in from the other side?” He suggested with a smile, one hand holding your son to him securely, the other wrapped around the grab handle. Nodding, you did just as suggested and moved to the other side of his truck, having to climb up a step before even opening the door. 

“Wow…” Rusty was already settled into the driver seat, letting Michael look around at everything. From the wheel to the mirror and beyond. He was behaving well, not touching anything. Rusty shifted him so he was more seated in his lap. 

“Go on, you can take a hold of the wheel, big man.” The gleeful laugh that came from him had the both of you smiling. His hands looked small against the wheel. In that moment, you reached for your phone to snap a picture, not even thinking to ask if the man would mind. It was just a moment that you wanted to capture. 

“This is so cool.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Carefully, once Michael had his fill, Rusty set him to the side and motioned for him to head into the back of the cab, where a little bed was set up. It allowed him to explore the small space. 

“Hope you don't mind me taking a picture…” 

“Not at all, darling. Ya wanna see him get really excited?” Your cheeks actually hurt so much from smiling. It was the most that you had done since leaving the better part of three months ago. “Hey, Michael. You wanna honk the horn?” Michael scrambled back to the front so quickly that he nearly tripped and landed face first into the shifter. Rusty had managed to catch him just in time. 

“Easy there, buddy. Don't need your first ride here to be a trip to the ER.” It was a bit astounding how good he was with your son, but you couldn't have asked for more in that moment. Nothing about this had been a mistake. And it wouldn't be moving forward with whatever happened to come between you and this man. 

#horror writing #slasher writing #slasher x reader #slasher x you #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joyride fic #joyride

[carboysandbikemen]

okay i love your profile so much!!! do u think u can write something for lewis and max’s sister oc after abu dhabi last year?? like he’s really mad and she’s just there for him to use her and relieve the tension??

Thank you! We absolutely can!!! Love those toxic vibes ahah. This made me insane and it was such a (fucked up) joy to write, I hope it's close to what you wanted! (SORRY that it’s a bit fucked up 😬)-🐝

Consolation Prize

Warnings and tags: 18+ obvs, Angry hate-fuelled sex but all consensual, just a bit (probably a lot) toxic, blowjob, unprotected sex, spanking, under-negotiated kink I guess, anal fingering.

Word count: 2,479

Part 2

Of course, you're happy that Max has won. What sister wouldn't be? You can’t exactly be upset when you see him celebrating with the team before running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around as he laughs with joy at being a World Champion.

Although, you can’t help but catch Lewis' eyes as you look over Max's shoulder. The flirty teasing energy you've had, but never acted on, all season is gone, his eyes instead fixing you with a cold anger that makes your heart clench.

-

"Lewis." You start, but you realise you don't know what to say. Of course you're sorry but no words are going to make up for the fact that he just lost this championship by a technicality, by a flagrant and bias rule change.

"Don't. Just don't." He says, anger in his voice. The tension bleeding out into the room and nearly choking you.

"Do you want me to go?" You ask, voice small.

"I want you to get on your knees so I can fuck your face." He says, jaw clenched, almost like a challenge. Almost like he expects you to walk out and leave him.

You take a breath.

"Okay." You say, and sink to your knees.

His eyes widen and he glances down at you in shock, as if he can’t quite process what's happening.

"You… what are you doing?"

Lewis' voice is a little shaky, with anger mostly, but you manage to keep your resolve, jutting your chin up defiantly.

"You want me on my knees Lewis, well here I am. Take it. Take what you need." He steps closer to you. "Take me."

He moves to stand in front of you, whispering your name like a warning. This is so fucked up. This is borderline toxic, you know. But, as fucked up as you know this is, you need it.

"Are you sure?"

He's giving you a way out but you don't want it, all you want is him, all you can think about is him. You look down to his crotch where the outline of his dick is already visible and you can feel yourself getting desperate. Of course this isn't how you'd imagined this going but if this is how you're finally going to get him then so be it.

"I'm sure Lewis."

He grips your chin with his strong tattooed hand and tilts your head, and your line of sight, away from his crotch and up to his face. His eyes are set hard with frustration and anger but there's something underneath all that which calls to you.

Still, he's harsh with his movements as he puts his thumb inside your mouth and pushes down on your tongue so your mouth drops open.

"Will you tell me? If I go too far?"

"Yeah." You manage around his thumb.

Although you're not sure he could, go too far, not when you're so desperate to give him anything he needs right now to make this better.

He nods, eyes hardening slightly as he fucks two fingers into your mouth, testing your gag reflex. His eyes darken as you sit there and take it.

"Take your top off." He all but commands and you scramble to do it, unhooking your bra for good measure as he thumbs down his trousers and boxers, not even bothering to step out of them as he gets his hand around his hardening dick.

"That’s it." He says. "Fuck, look at you. Your brother’s just won the fucking championship and here you are on your knees for me like a good little whore."

"Lewis." You breathe out but it's full of need and want and he smirks.

He takes both his hands and runs them through your hair, gripping on as he pulls you towards him and you let him do it. The movement is a gentle pressure, but you can tell he's holding back, you can tell he wants to choke you on his cock. You can tell it's coming.

Slowly, he guides you onto his cock, and you sigh as you finally get your mouth around him. He's big, of course he is, but you're determined to take it. Not that he gives you much choice as he tightens his grip in your hair until it’s almost painful and guides you forward and backwards, fucking you onto him.

It's almost more demeaning this way, with him fucking you onto his dick rather than fucking your mouth himself, like you're just a little fucktoy for him to release his stress out on.

After a minute or so he picks up his pace, thrusting his hips at the same time, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag around him. It doesn't deter him though, and he fucks even harder into you, choking you as a few tears escape the corners of your eyes.

You want to take it further but he's so big. You need to take it further, you need this to be good for him.

Spit is dripping down your chin and onto your bare chest but you don't care, you grip his strong thighs for balance as you push yourself forward a little as he thrusts, really choking yourself on him this time, letting the tears run down your face.

You're pretty sure your makeup is ruined but as you look up Lewis is looking directly at you, face nearly impassive.

Suddenly, you're overwhelmed with the idea that this might be all you get. Things are so bad now between you all, between Lewis and your brother that realistically this is never going to happen. You might never get Lewis how you want him and if this is all you get, then you want more than Lewis coming down your throat.

Desperately, you take your hand on his thigh and tap him as you choke on his cock.

He pulls you off him but doesn't let go of his grip in your hair.

"What?” He says, annoyed and frustrated. He glares down at you with a level of contempt that makes you want to cry a little but you push past it.

"Lewis I want you to fuck me properly. I want you to come in me." You try and sound confident but your voice is raw, and you cant even imagine what you look like, teary eyed, makeup smudged with spit dripping from your lips and chin.

Lewis lets out a low noise that sounds like something between a groan and a growl and pulls you up to your feet.

You get the memo and quickly undo your jeans, pulling them down at the same time as your underwear and quickly flinging them into the same pile as your top while Lewis steps out of his clothes. He keeps the shirt on though, the Mercedes polo shirt, a constant reminder.

He manoeuvres you until you're bent over the arm of the sofa, running a hand down your back in a way that almost feels intimate. His hand continues down over your ass and dips between your legs.

You feel yourself blush into the cushions as he feels how wet you are.

Lewis laughs, but it's cold and mean. "Can't believe you're getting off on this. You're so fucking wet already."

He smacks your ass, making you jump and let out a small surprised noise.

"Practically dripping just from sucking my cock. Do you need it that badly? Do you need my dick in you that much?" He goads.

When you don't reply he smacks your ass again.

"Lewis." You whine at him.

Another smack on the other side.

"Tell me how much you want it. Beg me for it."

"Lewis please, please." You try but it's clearly not good enough as he lands another smack.

"Lewis, I need you to fuck me, please, I need it so badly."

You feel the head of his dick press against you and you sigh, fucking finally. Instead of giving you what you need though, he runs his dick up and down your wet folds, teasing you, bumping against your clit as you squirm under him.

He does this a few times as you moan and squirm, before placing himself with just the tip pushing against your hole and freezing.

You try to push back and he holds your hips so you cant move.

"Tell me who should have won today."

Fuck. All you need is for him to put his dick in you for god’s sake. Just do it Lewis, you think desperately, just fuck me already.

"You." You gasp out. "You should have won. You deserve to have won."

"Yeah?" he pushes in a little but then backs out again and you nearly cry from frustration.

"Yeah Lewis, you're the better driver, you always have been."

He fucks in again but not enough, withdrawing just as quickly. You get the point.

"It should have been you on that podium. It should have been you holding that trophy."

He does it again.

"I need you to fuck me Lewis I need to be fucked by an eight time world champion. You should have had that eighth."

Lewis doesn't move this time.

"You really will say anything for some dick won’t you."

The fucked up thing, you think as he pushes inside you, is that you're not lying. You really do believe everything you're saying no matter how much you know Lewis won’t ever believe you.

"What would Max think of you? If he knew you were here begging me to fuck you so badly you'd take away his title."

"Please." You say, and this time you can't help how your voice wobbles a bit, mostly from desperation but also from the need for Lewis to separate you from Max. It's all you've wanted all season, to get Lewis like this, and now you finally have him he's bringing it up.

You think he might get it though, because his grip falters slightly, and he breathes out a huff of air.

"Yeah, yeah okay." He gets out, before slowly sliding into you.

You can't help but let out a low moan that you bury into the pillow, muffling the sound as you struggle to stretch around him.

"Shit you're so tight."

You choke out another moan but this time he grabs your hair and pulls you up, pushing you back onto his cock more as you arch your back and get up onto your elbows.

"I want to hear you moan for me as I fuck your tight little cunt." Lewis demands and you feel yourself tighten around him at his words.

You let out a moan that comes out more like a whine and he picks up his pace, fucking into you faster as his hands grip your waist so tightly you think it might bruise.

The sting of a slap on your ass makes you jump, letting out a "Ahh," as he palms the red spot on your ass. You could feel yourself clench around him and you know he's probably going to do it again. It surprises you that you really, really, want him to do it again.

Thankfully he does, slapping the opposite side of your ass as he thrusts in and you moan without meaning to, a mix of his name and a needy desperate noise.

He picks up his pace again, fucking into you at a brutal pace. You're pretty sure you're getting friction burns from the fabric of the sofa against your hips.

It's good, its so so good, but you need more, you just need to…

As you move to put your hand between your legs to get some friction Lewis grabs it and puts it back with a small growled 'no.'

A small cry leaves your mouth as you realise what it means. Lewis isn't going to let you get off. He isn't going to let you come. He got fucked over tonight, he got fucked over all season. He didn't get the ending he wanted and now you won’t either. This is about him using your warm wet cunt as a hole to get himself off into, to fuck out his frustrations and anger and disappointment, to fuck over Max. This isn't about you.

His pace falters slightly and you can tell he's getting close. He pushes on your back so that you fall back down onto your stomach, back arched more for him. Running his thumb against your cunt, you think that finally he's going to give you some release but he doesn't, he just gets his thumb wet before moving up, past where his cock is pushing into you and pressing against your hole.

Without much warning, he presses his thumb inside of you and you tighten up at the feeling. You've never done that before. It's all so much and you need his hands on you so badly you could scream.

Your clenching must get to him, as Lewis suddenly groans, pressing deep into you as he hooks his thumb, pressing you almost painfully against the sofa as he comes inside of you.

"Fuck." He says after a moment, pulling out of you and watching as some of his cum leaks out. He takes his other hand and fingers some of it back into you as you desperately whine, needing anything.

Instead, he walks away, moving to grab his boxers and trousers.

This is it, you realise, this is all you're going to get. It's over, no matter how much you want more from him.

"Did that, um, help?" You don't know why you say it, god you really should have just left.

"Not really no. It doesn't make up for any of it." Lewis says bluntly. He's not looking at you.

"Yeah. No, of course." You scramble for your clothes feeling stupid, bending over to pull up your underwear as some of his come drips out of you. You can feel your face flushing with heat as you see him turn and notice it. He still says nothing.

"I'm going to just..."

He nods at you and you can feel your chest collapsing in on itself.

"I really did mean it you know. It wasn't just... I did mean it all. I'm so sorry."

You can't help it when the words spill from your mouth, but still, you can't stand to wait to see what he says, instead you quickly grab your coat and all but run out of the trailer, desperate to be anywhere except the gaze of Lewis' discerning eyes.

Maybe, you try and cling to hope, maybe he'll message you, when this has all blown over. Maybe this won’t be the end.

Although, as you walk away, your underwear dampening with every step, you can't help but feel like this is the end of something that never really had chance to begin.

#okay im sorry this is a bit angsty #whoops #lewis is a bit mean #tw max verstappen #pov you're max's sister #im sorry im so insane #f1 imagine #f1blr #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #ask

[angelltheninth]

I Was Meant to Be Yours

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, drugging, praise, dirty talk, somnophilia, fingering, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship, very dub-con, kidnapping

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: The darkest commission I've gotten thus far. Yandere isn't really my forte but I gave it my all as always.

You slept peacefully and contently in a warm bed, dozing off, dreaming, all cozy.

Azul on the other hand was watching you sleep, a permanent charming smile on his face. He wasn't supposed to be in your dorm room tonight, or any night for that matter. How could he stay away though, you've barely been dating a month and he's already head over heels. Has been for a lot longer then that too.

"I wonder what you're dreaming about. Could it be me? I dream about you quite often my sweet." He left his coat and shoes at the door to your bedroom as to not wake you up by accident. So caring of him. "Allow me to make your dreams even better." His voice was like a song, lulling you to an even deeper sleep. His lips pressed against yours, a firm kiss, while his eyes took in the finer details of your face.

"How I've longed to see you. I couldn't wait until morning. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?" You couldn't answer him of course, not that he ever expected you to.

A soft sigh passed through your lips as his hands pressed under your pajama's, hiking your shirt up past your chest, exposing your naked breasts to the cool air. "No bra beautiful? Were you hopping I'd show up again? Crawl into bed and play with your body all night?" It was only cold for a moment as the next Azul's lips wrapped around one, warming it up with his mouth and tongue and the other in his warm palm.

"I wanted to get you to make all kinds of noises for me, but you need to keep it down, we don't wanna get caught now do we?" He blew the tiniest bit of warm air over your wet nipple and watched it pebble with a smile on his face and a pressure building in his pants. He ignores it for the time being, focusing his attention on you. This is all about you after all.

"I'm sorry, I really need to touch you, is that okay?" His hands ran up your thighs, his hips rocking forward, his bulge twitching against your hot pussy. A low moan sounded from your lips, "Yeah? Mmm, thank you darling, I'll make you feel amazing, just you wait."

In a few moments your pants and underwear were taken off. Azul's breath hitched taking in the sight underneath him. Your body spread out, your lips parted, your nipples hard, chest heaving in your sleep, your cunt just waiting to be taken.

He started with a single finger, a single swipe between your folds to test the waters. His other hand came up to strokes your face, you melting against his touch, lips falling open in a nearly silent moan as he continued to tease your pussy with light strokes.

"A week. It's been a week since I've felt you. Far too long since I've heard your moan like this for me, since I've felt your warmth around me." His finger pushed inside your hole slowly, needy groan followed by a sinister laugh leaving Azul's lips. "I've missed this. I wish I could fuck you right now but the walls are thing and if I did that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from making you scream and beg for more. You understand don't you?" You made a noise, a whimper as your hips rolled toward his hand almost unconciously.

"Azul." You mumbled, eyes fluttering open and then closed again. His hand froze, eyes searching your face only to find it relaxed still, if a little flustered.

"Darling, you need to keep quiet. Do you want another by chance, is that what you want? You missed me a lot haven't you? I missed you too." He snarled as he narrowed his eyes, his free hand cupping his throbbing bulge, that alone nearly enough to make him come. How could he want to do anything elese with your pussy now taking in two of his fingers?

In truth there was something else he'd much rather be doing, a place his cock would be much more comfortable. But this wasn't the time for that.

"You're shaking. Already close huh? I'll make this quick for you." His fingers curled upwards as he pumped them in and out, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to move against the increasing tightness of your inner walls. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

You were almost hypnotized by his voice, your body listened even when your brain was foggy, your pussy clenching and tightening up around Azul's adept fingers. "Good girl. That felt good didn't it, to do such a good job."

Your thighs clenched on instinct as you felt his hand pulling away, his fingers playfully passing over your sensitive clit. A breathy chuckle filled the room and was what finally brought you out of your hazy state.

"Azul?" You blinked the dizziness away, your body sore and aching everywhere, "Where am-?" A chill passed though your body as you saw him kneeling before you. His eyes shining as much as his hand, although for interlay different reasons, his smile meant to soothe but now only frightening, his pants tenting from his obvious arousal. "Am I... in your room?"

You slowly backed up, looking around you, looking for the door.

"I wouldn't do that darling." His voice quickly cut through your thoughts, flat and cold, his expression anything but, his smile wide, "You said you wished how you could stay over without anyone knowing. So I brought you here."

The moment you heard those words you realized the reality of what he was saying. He brought you here without anyone knowing. Without you knowing. You moved quickly, at least as quickly as you could on your shaky legs, only to be tackled down and pinned to the floor, Azul's hand covering your mouth, the cold tiles pressing against your thighs and part of your stomach. By contrast his body was warm above you, on your back, his hard cock firmly pressed against your naked ass.

Azul was still turned on. Perhaps even more than before.

"Now, now. If anyone were to see you they'd take you away. You need to stay here. With me." He pushed your head to the side and laid hot kisses against your throat, your body reacting by pushing back against his, "Aw, still needy? Don't worry I plan on making love to you all night long. This will be great. We'll get to spend all day together. We'll walk to classes, eat together, I'll even walk you back to your dorm every day so the staff doesn't catch us in our little escapades. We'll be so happy. You make me so happy, oh sweetheart, I can't hold back anymore."

His hips started grinding against yours, the sound of his zipper being undone making you whimper against his hand. "Shhh. I've got you. Why are you so scared now? We've done this before. You know me darling, I always start slow no matter what your slutty cunt wants. Don't be greedy, you just came a little while ago, now it's my turn. After that," His smile pressed against your ear, "We're gonna go all over again. I wonder how much you can take before you pass out."

Was this actually real? Was this really what Azul was like under that gentleman façade? Was everything he told you a lie? No, no, there was one thing that he said that always stuck out to you, something that seemed so innocent before and had now taken on a whole other meaning.

He wanted you to stay with him forever. Under the sea.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #azul ashengrotto smut #azul ashengrotto imagines #yandere #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader

[romeulusroy]

Dependence Pt. 3 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan

Word Count: 2,054

Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death mention

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: Idk how angsty this is on a scale of 1-10, but I can tell you it's actually very sweet and very heartbreaking. Baby Roy is going through it!!! I love them!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependency Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 4 / Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two

The first number you called was Logan’s. The next was Kendalls. The last was Connor’s. Slurred, sleepy, assuring him you were going to be okay. You would be okay because the shaking had stopped, you were warming up again, you were feeling better. You couldn’t keep your eyes open though, the lids too heavy. Curled into a ball in the booth, cradling a stranger's phone, slipping into unconsciousness. He said something, something that sounded sad, panicked. You were going to be okay, you felt so light. Your pulse is barely there. He yelled again, but it was incoherent. You were tired, the exhaustion setting deep into your bones. If you just put your head down, if you shut your eyes for a moment, then you could get some sleep. You’d be alright. The last coherent words from your mouth was an apology: I’m so sorry, I’m fucked up. I’m sorry. . . You were so light, so far away. It felt nice. No more anger. No more rage. No more self-hatred. Finally, you were free. Free from it all, free from him, from life. 

He peered over your crib, taking you all in. you were a few months old, just staring up at him. Your eyes are so wide, so new to the world. You slept in the nursery they’d all been in, though things were different. Boxes of things had been placed in the corners, on the floor of the closet, as if you were only a temporary guest. You reached up, cooing at the mobile. Zoo animals spinning round and round. Your mother and Logan off somewhere, doing something, unbothered by the little life they created. You were a quiet baby, as if you already knew what was coming, as if you could sense the irritation in your fathers voice every time you cried, hissing at your mother to quiet you down. Neither of them were fit for this kind of job, as young as he was, Roman could sense it. When your smile fell, he picked you up, out of the crib, and sat back in the rocking chair. A few whimpers was all you let out, as if you were already bottling it up inside. He remembers how small you were, how sorry he was. Not just for your father, your mother, the both of them terribly one minded, only ever thinking of themselves, but for this life as well. It wasn’t easy, that much he’d learned in his short life. It would never be easy. The money, the luxury, it helped, but it could only do so much cushioning. A fresh bruise throbbed over his eye. That day, in your cramped bedroom where it seemed like they put just about anything in, he made a promise to you. He’d never let you get hurt. He’d never let them hurt you the way they hurt him. You smiled up at him, all gums, like you knew what he was saying, like you were thanking him. It would not be an easy job. Pacing the floors of the emergency room, the realization struck him like a slap to the face: he failed. He failed you. He hadn’t protected you from anything, especially your father. He didn’t do what he’d promised you. 

You stood to the side of Shiv’s bed, blankie thrown over your shoulder. You were too frightened to wake her, not wanting to scare her, so you were as still as possible. Your breathing ragged from the nightmare, your cheeks still wet. Lately, you've been having one every night. Your room, without the toys, without the decorations, without anything, felt more like a prison than your bedroom. You were being punished again. Quietly, you tiptoed down the hall, down the stairs, to where their bedrooms were. The boys doors were shut, but Shiv’s had been left slightly open. You took that as a sign, taking the handle in your chubby little hand. Her room had looked the same since you could remember. She slept soundly on her side. Barely above a whisper, you called her name. Shivy? Over and over again until she stirred. She used to jump when you came in, when you woke her, but this had become routine the last few weeks. If it wasn’t her, it was Ken or Rome. One of them always woke up to you in their bed, unable to bear yours any longer. A nightmare, you’d confess. They’d nod, understanding all too well, making room for you beside them. She doesn’t say anything, wordlessly moving to the other side, opening the blankets. You climbed up next to her, making sure Blankie got there too. She let her arm fall on to you, holding you close. She’d always remembered the way you smelled. Sweet, sweaty, warm. Her face buried in your hair, tightening her grip. You were so small, so scared. She couldn’t fall back to sleep until she heard your shallow breathing even. You never had any nightmares with her. That’s what she thought of you when she saw you in that bed, how she was living a nightmare, that if she’d been there for you, if she’d let you climb into her bed, none of this would have happened.

He’d asked you to dance at your mothers wedding. It was one of the first times in a long time you weren’t drinking yourself to bed. She’d been married four, five times. It wouldn’t last long, they never did. You were just thankful she decided not to have anymore kids. Though, what did that say about you? He found you sitting at one of the many tables, watching everyone else dance. He held out his hand. It took you a moment to realize just what he was asking, shrugging before you stood, taking his hand. She’d invited your brothers and sister despite not knowing them very well, needing bodies to fill up chairs. She invited everyone she knew every time, though the guest list grew smaller and smaller with every debut. There were only so many last names a woman could collect before people stopped caring. She’d whined about it to you before she walked down the aisle, calling them ungrateful and selfish for ruining her day. She seemed happy now, swaying in the arms of another Logan-type, her veil lifted by the wind. Picturesque. He leads you to the dance floor, his hand on your back, the other in yours. Kendall seemed content, a rare occurrence for him. He looked nice, dressed in a lightly colored suit for the summer wedding, smiling down at you. You placed your head against his chest, taking him in, grateful for his presence in that moment. You hadn’t realized how unhappy you’d been, how taxing doing this all over again was. Your mother wasn’t the root cause for your problems, but she didn’t help. It felt like every day was her wedding day. Every day it was about her, her wants, her needs, and it was all a disaster. In the end she got what she wanted, in the end she was the only one left smiling. You caught him watching you think, unsure of what his mind was doing. He remembered it like it was yesterday. You seemed so grown up, so worn down. Not like the baby he remembered. He hugged you a little tighter, not wanting this moment to pass. Now it was too late. You looked so defeated, so young, it scared him. What could he have done to stop this? Surely there was something, something he could have done to prevent this. He never should have let you go. 

That night is burned into his memory forever. You were crying, sobbing into the phone. You were so scared, so alone. When he got the call, he moved without thinking. He got in the car and started driving, trying to keep you on the phone. You dropped a pin in the middle of nowhere. You were so tired. Not just exhausted, but you ached in the marrow of your bones. You were so done with this life, with everything. You’d hoped, in your moment of desperation, of sincerity, that your father would care. That he would come to your rescue, save you from yourself. Instead Connor pulled up to the sidewalk you’d been sitting on, opening the passenger side door for you. You wiped your tears with the palms of your hands, unable to say anything, to defend yourself, your actions. He didn’t yell like you were expecting, he didn’t ask a million questions or patronize you. Internally he was lost. Should he drive you to the hospital? Back to Dads? In the end, he brought you home, to his place. You wanted to thank him, to apologize for being such a mess, but all you could do was press your head against the cold window and cry. You weren’t sure what time it was, what day it was, the last time you slept. Days, probably. He grabbed your hand, the other on the wheel, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. That made you cry harder. Connor hated to see you like that. You were his baby after all. He squeezed your hand off and on, three times. I love you. You were small in his car, fragile, covered in bruises. The bags under your eyes were so dark, so painful looking. He’d never forget it, the way you flinched at the sight of him, like you were waiting for an explosion. He wasn’t angry or disappointed, he was petrified for you. If he could go back, would he have done anything differently? He’s not sure. Would changing anything have an impact now? You were sleeping, IV’s in your arms, wires stuck to your chest, the hospital gown hanging off you. You were skin and bone. The rings around your eyes so black, so bruised. He didn’t think you could look worse after that night, and yet, again, you’ve proved him wrong. He didn’t think it could get worse. He squeezed your hand three times, over and over again, so it would be the first thing you felt when you woke up. I love you. I love you. I love you.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. That didn’t happen to you, not even when you were sure you were gone for good. Instead, it was your life that flashed before their eyes. All the best moments, the worst, the things they had and hadn’t done as older siblings, all their failings. Someone called an ambulance. They used Narcan and charcoal. You were covered in sickness, shaking, gasping for air. In and out of it, not wanting any of them to see you like this. It was you and the nurses, everyone else left to wait in the emergency room, trickling in as soon as they got there. You hadn’t slept in days, exhausted, sobbing. The nurses held you as you cried out, sucked from the blackness back to real life. Everything hurts. Everything stung. Everything you’d done came flooding back. Regret sat heavy on your chest. You were almost gone, so close. It was so light, so airy. You screamed, wanting to go back, wanting to be back there, in that booth, in the club, far away from here. The frustration at yourself suffocated you. It was inescapable. There was no running from it anymore. They gave you something to calm you down, letting you sleep. Finally, It wasn’t the same kind of floating feeling, but it was close enough. Your brothers and sister sat beside you, scared to touch you. You were so little, so broken. Of course you wouldn’t do well, they thought. Of course you shouldn’t have been left on your own like that. Of course this happened. Connor held your hand, the only one brave enough to touch you. They weren’t sure what they were going to do or say when you woke up, but they could feel it on the tip of their tongues: the sadness, the anger, the apologies, the hurt. They knew, whatever they did, they had to be there for you, like they’d been before. When you cried. When you had nightmares. When you were getting better and when you fell again. They’d be there for everything.

#writing #connor roy #connor roy imagine #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy imagine #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #logan roy #logan roy imagine #logan roy x reader #succession #succession imagine #succession x reader

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season two, part three

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919 @moonmark98 @sarahbaker2010 @ririi-3 @ryoujoking @hayley1998 @crazyunsexycool @gabriella-aesthetic @dixons-sunshine

Masterlist

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as the woman’s words echoed in your head; Carl’s been shot. A million questions began to flood your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice them. It felt almost as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs.

“He's still alive but you've gotta come now.” The woman continued, but Lori didn’t budge. “Rick needs you, just come!”

Lori looked back at you for a moment and without thinking, you nodded for her to go. She turned back to the woman, nodding as she climbed on the back of her horse.

“Woah!” Daryl called out. “We don’t know this girl. You can’t go with her.”

“Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?” The woman asked, ignoring Daryl.

Glenn nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

“Backtrack to Fairburn road. Two miles down is our farm.” The woman clutched the reins of the horse tight in her hands. “You'll see the mailbox- Name's Greene.”

With that, the woman sped off the way she’d come. You watched as her and Lori slowly disappeared through the trees and bushes. If there had been room for another on that horse, you would’ve gone with them. It had been seconds and not knowing what was going on was already killing you.

The walker that had attacked Andrea began to groan, slowly sitting up. The woman hadn’t killed it.

Daryl shook his head, shooting the walker in the head with his bow. “Shut up.”

You took a deep breath, running your hands through your hair. “Let’s keep going, it’s going to start getting dark any minute now.”

…

“Shot?” Dale asked. “What do you mean shot?”

Your group had finally made it back to the highway, reconnecting with Dale and T-Dog. Glenn was filling Dale in on what happened.

“I don’t know, Dale. I wasn’t there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.” Glenn shook his head.

“You let her?”

“The hell was I supposed to do?” Daryl scoffed. “Rick sent her. She knew Lori and Carl’s names.”

You nodded, shifting your feet. “She told us where to find them. They have a farm not too far from here.”

“We should head there then.” Dale spoke.

“Absolutely not. We can't just leave!” Carol argued. “I won’t do it.”

“Carol, the group is split.” Dale explained. “We’re scattered and weak.”

“What if she comes back and we’re not here?”

Andrea nodded. “If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.”

Daryl’s eyes fell on you, your silence catching his attention. At this point, you were too tired to argue and you couldn’t see a situation where anyone won. You didn’t want to pull people away from looking for Sophia, but all you really wanted was to be with your family.

After a few moments, Daryl let out a harsh sigh. “I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Gives us a chance to rig a big sign and leave her some supplies. I’ll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.”

“If the RV is staying, I am too.” Dale spoke.

Carol smiled, her eyes swelling with tears. “Thank you. Thank you both.”

“I’m in.” Andrea spoke up.

You looked at Carol, your eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Carol. I want to help you find her, but I need to go find the farm. I need to make sure my family is okay.”

Carol nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll stay here with the rest of you.” Glenn spoke up.

Dale shook his head. “You should go with Y/N. Take Carol’s Cherokee.”

“Why do I have to go too?” 

“Two of you is safer than one. You need to reconnect with our people and see what’s going on but most importantly, you need to get T-Dog there. His cut has gone from bad to worse.”

“What exactly does worse mean?” You asked.

“He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to the farm and see if they have any antibiotics.” Dale spoke. “If not, T-Dog will die, no joke.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, turning to his motorcycle that was just a few steps away. “Why’d you wait until now to say anything?”

“What, do you have a secret pharmacy that we don’t know about?” You asked.

“Basically. I’ve got my brother’s stash.” Daryl began to rummage through the motorcycle, pulling out a bag. “Crystal, X— don’t need that. Got some kick ass painkillers.” Next, Daryl pulled out a prescription bottle. “Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. Its first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.”

Daryl tossed the bottle to Dale, who eyed it with excitement before rushing off to give some to T-Dog.

“Mind if I take that with us?” You asked.

Daryl shook his head. “It’s not like Merle needs it anymore.”

You frowned, thinking about all the loss your group had faced in just a few short days. So many people you’d come to know, even if you didn’t like them all. Most of all, family. Merle, Amy, Sophia and now Carl had been shot. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

T-Dog exited the RV with Dale’s help, who led him towards Carol’s Cherokee. Carol handed Glenn the keys, and he climbed in the driver’s seat.

“You remember what direction the farm is in? For tomorrow.” You asked.

Daryl nodded. “You still got your gun?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Be safe.”

You nodded, a partial smile creeping across your lips. “You too.”

…

“So, do we ring the doorbell?” Glenn asked as you slowly approached the farmhouse on foot. “I mean, it looks like people live here.”

“We’re past this kind of stuff, aren’t we?” T-Dog asked. “Having to be considerate.”

You shrugged in response when you heard a familiar voice.

“Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” Sitting on the porch in the dark was the woman you’d met earlier. 

“Uh, Hi.” Glenn choked. “Yeah, we closed it. Did the latch and everything.”

The woman nodded, leaning forward in her seat. “I never introduced myself. I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to see you again.” Glenn smiled. “We came to help. Is there anything we can do?”

Maggie’s eyes drifted to T-Dog’s arm, her smiling quickly fading.

“It’s not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though.” T-Dog spoke.

“We’ll get it looked at and I’ll tell them you’re here.” Maggie responded, standing up.

“We have some painkillers and antibiotics. I already gave him some.” Glenn spoke. “In case Carl needs some.”

“How is Carl?” You asked. “Is he-”

“He’s alive.” Maggie assured you. “It's touch and go, but he’s hanging in.”

You smiled, nodding to yourself.

“Come on inside, I’ll get you guys something to eat.”

Maggie led you into the house and it didn’t take long for you to spot Rick and Lori. Maggie headed into the kitchen while you approached your brother.

“I’m so sorry.” You blurted out.

Rick shook his head, pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay. It's going to be okay.”

“We’re here, okay?” Glenn spoke.

T-Dog nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” Lori tried her best to muster a smile.

You pulled away from your brother and immediately pulled Lori into a hug. It took a few seconds for it to register for her, but Lori hugged you back just as tight.

Glenn and T-Dog headed to the kitchen while Rick and Lori led you into another room. Carl laid on the bed, motionless. The sight of blood on the sheets caught you off guard. You never could’ve imagined seeing Carl in such a position.

“If they don’t get back soon, we’re gonna have a decision to make.” An older man spoke.

“Who?”

“Shane and their man, Otis.” Lori explained. “They left to get a respirator.”

“What decision would that be?” Rick asked.

The man hesitated for a second. “Whether to operate on your boy without it.”

“You said that wouldn’t work.”

“I know.” The man nodded. “It’s extremely unlikely, but we can’t wait much longer.”

“Where did they go?” You asked. “I can go there, help them if they’re trapped.”

“We don’t need more people getting separated.” Rick responded. “Shane will be back, I know he will.”

You sat down next to Carl, grabbing his hand in yours as a tear fell down your cheek. His life was in Shane’s hands, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that after everything.

…

You’d just finished your sandwich when panicked screams began coming from the other room. You jumped from your seat, racing in to find Carl having a seizure.

“What’s happening?” Lori asked.

“It’s a seizure.” You responded as Rick reached out to hold him. “Stop! If you hold him down, you could hurt him.”

“We can’t stop it?”

The older man, who you had learned is named Hershel, shook his head. “He has to just go through it. His brain isn’t getting enough blood. His pressure is bottoming out. He needs another transfusion.”

Rick nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“If I take any more out of you your body could shut down. You could go into a coma or cardiac arrest.” 

“What about me?” You asked. “We have the same blood type. I’ll do it.”

Hershel looked at Rick, who quickly nodded. You held out your arm and Hershel started the process. In no time, you were watching as blood flowed out of your arm and into the tube connecting to Carl.

“Thank you.” Rick spoke, smiling slightly.

You smiled back at him, nodding. “It’s what we do.”

“Y/N was a nurse, before the world fell.” Rick looked at Hershel.

“Do you think you can assist when the time comes?” Hershel asked. “It’ll be good to have someone else here who knows a thing or two.”

“Of course,” You responded. “Anything I can do to help.”

“I’ll get you some orange juice, keep your sugar up.” Hershel smiled, exiting the room.

“How much longer do you think we can wait for Shane?” Lori asked, her voice in a whisper.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, maybe another hour?” 

Lori placed her head in her hands. “This can’t be happening again.”

Rick looked at his wife, then at you. You could still remember sitting in the waiting room with Lori, waiting to hear news about Rick. You couldn’t believe that was just over a month ago.

The room remained silent, allowing you to get a few moments of sleep at a time. You kept waking up each time you heard any movement.

Hershel entered the room again, looking over Carl. “He’s still losing blood faster than we can replace it. With the swelling in the abdomen we can’t wait any longer or he’s just going to slip away. I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You need to make a choice.”

“A choice?” Lori asked.

“A choice.” Rick responded, his eyes fixed on his wife. “You have to tell me what it is. You have to.”

Lori thought for a moment. “We do it.”

Hershel sprung into action, giving orders to anyone in the room. Carl was lifted onto a table and you stuck close by, still giving him your blood. Patricia, one of the farm hands and Otis’ wife, held Carl’s IV bag.

“You two might want to leave the room.” Hershel spoke, looking between Rick and Lori.

As the words left his mouth, the sound of a car approaching filled the room. You could see the headlights shining through the windows, bouncing off the wall behind you.

“Oh God.” Rick gasped.

Hershel looked at you and Patricia. “You two stay with him, I’ll be right back.”

Shane had arrived just in time, allowing Hershel to perform the surgery with the respirator. By the time the surgery was over, Carl’s condition had stabilized. You’d learned that Otis had died out there, Rick and Hershel breaking the news to Patricia after the surgery was over.

Carl no longer needed a transfusion, so you found yourself outside on the porch just staring up at the stars. You’d never felt so exhausted in your life, both mentally and physically. 

In that moment everything you’d been through in the last month finally began to sink in. Once the tears began to fall, they wouldn’t stop. You could barely catch your breath, clutching your chest with your hand. Sitting there in the dark, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the wrong choice leaving the CDC that day.

-----

AN: Here we are with the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed this more family centric chapter and the bits of Reader x Daryl. If you did, please remember to like and reblog! Thank you <3

#daryl dixon; unearthed #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader

[raccoonfallsharder]

I think Rocket would be like, INSANELY good at Hanayama Enigma puzzles. They're these little puzzles made out of interlocking metal parts, and the goal is to take them apart and then put them back together. I could see him just coming across one and fiddling with it for a few seconds before having it taken apart not even realizing it's supposed to be a challenge. He's so good at intuitively knowing how things fit together that these puzzles would be no match for him.

sorry for my delay, sweet nonnie. i've been a little burnt-out and reclusive lately, and i apologize! i'm back now (sorta), and so grateful you sent me this ask. i had to look these up and then i fell into a hole watching youtube videos of people solving them. wild. my brain does not work this way.

rocket's brain, however, absolutely works this way. you are 100% correct. of course, you'd know. the first time he sees you fucking around with one of these puzzles, he peers over your shoulder for a whole two seconds before being like, you're doing it wrong.

you don't even know what i'm trying to do, you say, annoyed, and he rolls his eyes.

fuck off. do too. twist that piece there. no, not that much. moron.

you follow his less-than-stellar directions - more out of curiosity than anything else - and outside of a few false starts when he's just not being clear about what he wants you to do, every new step takes you closer to the perfect solution.

it would be enraging if it weren't for how fascinated he looks. not by the puzzle itself, so much as the idea that it is a puzzle. for him, it just makes sense. he looks at these pieces of metal and - from your perspective - it's like he can see right through time, to the thing it's supposed to be. and god forbid he gets his actual hands on it. he's even faster when you convince him to try one himself and to do it blindfolded. if anything, it's almost like his eyes get in the way.

of course, it makes sense. every gun and weapon and ship he builds is ultimately just a bigger puzzle.

he doesn't understand why any of these toys are more difficult for you to figure out than something as simple as a clothespin, and that's what's got him all entranced. if you can understand how a key works in a lock or how to take apart a quad blaster to clean it, why can't you understand how to dismantle this tiny sculpture and put it back together again? that's the real puzzle, as far as rocket's concerned, and it's the one he decides he's gonna solve. so he starts making puzzles of his own - for you - little bits of interlocking metal, shapes that come together into new shapes. he tries to figure out the perfect combination of pieces that makes a thing hard for you to solve, but not too hard.

when a planet isn't being saved and the galaxy doesn't need guarding, this is how the citizens of knowhere find the two of you: in the dim dusky light of the artificial knowhere sunset, sitting outside mantlo's with either a pair of gargleblasters (yours is watered down) or milky fizzes, depending on the night. both of you are clinking away, the streetlights reflecting on the smooth glossy pieces of metal in your hands. you're trying to figure out the most recent puzzle rocket has given you, and rocket's busy bending and twisting metal to make the next one.

i'm using you, he tells you one night, after he's finished crafting your next puzzle and is just drinking his booze and looking down the street, watching people snack on streetfood and the star children play something like tag because drax is a pushover when it comes to enforcing bedtimes.

yeah? you mumble distractedly.

mmhm. he nods solemnly. i figure out how hard a puzzle is, depending on how long it takes your dumb ass to solve it. then, when some asshole comes to ask me questions or wants something, i give it to them so they get distracted and leave me alone.

yeah, okay, captain, you drawl, taking a sip of your drink and going back to the cool metal between your fingers. you've seen him doing exactly what he's describing, but you've noticed he never gives anyone a puzzle that's too difficult for them - just something for them to wrap their minds around for a few rotations, something to stretch their brains. they're always so proud when they come back to their captain with their toy figured out, even if he just gives them a blank stare - pretending he really does think they're idiots.

of course, the people of knowhere see right through him.

rocket's such a hard ass, you mock. who knew.

he makes a typical scoffing sound, but when you look up, you can see him: watching his people with soft eyes. nebula's out today, talking with some of the vendors, and one of the kids is perched on her back. you can hear drax laughing down the street, and somewhere, cosmo barks happily. rocket's shoulders are relaxed, and his tail flicks lazily, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so at ease.

you lean over and nudge him with your elbow.

joke's on you, bud.

everyone here just thinks you're handing out presents because you like them.

#rfh asks #rocket raccoon #rfh fluff #rocket raccoon headcanon #guardians of the galaxy #rfh headcanons #rocket raccoon imagine

[sugar-omi]

okay, so i've been doing some thinking. i've been scrolling through your blog and i stepped upon these "cheating on cove with Baxter and the other way around" scenarios. (i'm sorry, i wasn't able to read them, my heart couldn't take it ;-;) but!

what if mc was like, in a normal relationship with Baxter. you know, a couple, maybe married later and stuff, while of course still being besties with Cove. later mc and Baxter have a kid together, maybe still a small baby but! plot twist! Baxter gets into an accident or something and dies. (i'm sorry, he's my favourite man but i had to kill him for that scenario:'))

mc is completely devastated and also a little panicked, because what about the baby? and then Cove stepps in, deciding to help his best friend take care of the little one and basically becomes its father. i recently watched a video of a dog "helping" a cat take care of her kittens, and there you have it.

this one may be boring, so feel free to ignore, but i can't stop thinking about it.

ITS OK<333 I figured some ppl didn't read it bc angst n pain</3 trust me I skip over angst all the time

(I even have the tag blocked😬 sorry angst writers but I will read it and not be the same for months, I read a kiribaku angst fic years ago, and was devesated for 4 months afterwards LMAO)

okay i... I cannot expand too much on this bc OUCH

(eta now that I've finished. who am I fooling? I rlly said that like I haven't wrote a whole novel 💀 anyway <3 this clearly made me pop off more than I thought I would bc I read this at first n was devastated!!! I had no words!!!! well clearly I found them LOL)

ALSO BORING??? ANON PLEASE.. BORING WHERE<///3

n im gonna fix the format later but for now here is the bare minimum. I'm going to bed rn so nini everyone enjoy a bit of angst I promise its fluffy as well<333

tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

p/n = parental name, since I wanted to leave flexibility for all the readers here <3

but anyway yeah cove would so step up for you

will follow you to the end of the earth and do whatever you need to help you work through this and to adapt to this sudden and unfortunate change

if/when your relationship starts becoming something romantic, cove would absolutely put the brakes on everything and you'd go so slow...

I imagine he'd probably move in with you or you with him, and he'd stay somewhere else (if you're living in his house he will leave anyway, he's a gentleman like that fr) so that way you can figure out if it's not just bc he's doing all these things n you're mistaking admiration for love

you'd spend the first year going super slow, as if you've never known each other before

which technically you haven't, since you've never dated before. but cove would go so far as to find out your favorite color, song, animal, food.. all over again, even though he has it memorized and knows your likes better than his own.

once cove is sure you're ready for this (after much talk between the two of you and even with your therapist that yes you've made enough progress and are emotionally ready for this) does he finally put a label on it

now if you get married...

I imagine cove won't propose at all

like I think you'd have to talk n almost beg him...

in that case he would do a small but grande gesture to propose. or he'd propose to you before you've even left the bed for the day... no inbetween

but like 8 times outta 10, you're gonna have to propose to him

he'd cry and hug you n say yes of course.

and unless you want to keep this outta your wedding, I think cove would include baxter in your wedding.

first, ofc you'd have the picture to honor his memory

but I think he'd even go so far as to have smth in his vows. but to start, he'd say smth like:

"I know the reason we became closer was unfortunate, but I'm so happy to be able to call you and [Child] my family. and I hope I can be a good father and husband"

and "baxter will always have a place in our hearts. even though he and I didn't get along at first (watery chuckle)... I'm glad he got to love you, and I hope he trusts me to love and cherish you the same way as well.."

also if you don't want to give up your wedding ring from baxter, I think cove would even go so far as to suggest combining it with his.

!!! omg I was gonna say your and baxter's wedding bands would be black, but I have another idea

okay now, for YOUR bands, I imagine they're either black or silver and yk those infinity(?) bands? that has the 2 types of metal or whatever

that's what cove would suggest doing. and if you are worried abt people asking why your bands are different, he'd get the same twisted band but silver with say a black diamond or smth. just smth to make it look like it's intentionally different colors but same design or smth

(im overthinking a bit but it's an idea right?! I'm not crazy??<////3)

or if you don't wanna do that, I imagine you can just slip it on a necklace or leave it as is, whatever you want. he wouldn't mind even if you kept wearing it, cove would never ask you to get rid of baxter's image or memory in any way, not unless it was a real problem and your attachment to him/his things was unhealthy anyway.

now for baxter's band... well if you didn't bury it with him, I imagine you'd give it to your child

another thing I think you could do w your wedding band as well, and give them both your bands to do whatever they want with. or if they don't want it of course you're not forcing them to keep it

even though they didn't get to know baxter, the way you and cove still cherish baxter's memory does help them feel something of a connection.

I also imagine baxter would take lots of photo n video w the kid, even though they're young n just a babe, theres so many videos of baxter looking n acting so loving w them

and even a couple where he's teary-eyed n all "imma do you right by you. I love you so much.."

of course, if the kid doesn't feel that connected to baxter since they were too young to know or rmbr anything, and they don't feel anything much other than sympathy and the occasional sting when they see how much baxter loved them, you don't force it.

you both know that baxter was basically a stranger to them and even though they still respect baxter and he has a place in their heart, they don't feel like they're lacking anything.

"I don't really know what to say.. or how to feel... I see how much [P/N] misses you sometimes, and we have pictures of you, and they talk about you and stuff...

but I don't feel like im missing a dad. I hope that doesn't hurt your feelings, I wish I knew you too. sometimes I wish you were still here, so I got to know you as well, even though I'm still happy to have dad cove for my dad.

I just wanna know what you were like. I wanna experience what you were like. I... I wanna miss you like everyone else misses you too...

anyway, just know that dad is great! he takes care of me and [P/N] really well! he makes breakfast in bed, and he does/used to do this thing where he lifts me in the air before bed! he's so cool. I see how he makes [P/N] happy as well, so don't worry. although, [P/N] said you always thought cove was reliable and a good guy so maybe you aren't worrying anyway.

well... that's it I guess. i hope ill get to know you one day, and maybe you can tell me you're glad to see dad took good care of us. goodbye,

baxter."

pa."

cove happily listens to anything they have to say on how they feel abt baxter btw. he accepts any of their feelings, be it that they don't feel anything at all, sympathy for others, or they feel sad abt losing him.

if they do say smth like how even though it's unfortunate and they feel bad for everyone who mourns baxter (for example/especially you), they see cove as their dad and don't feel like they're missing anything and they're happy to have cove for their dad.

ofc he cries n hugs them n tells them he loves em and he's happy n he comforts them if needed of course

I also think cove is very scared abt being a father

especially in this way... even if the kiddo doesn't remember anything, or it's hazy at best, he worries about replacing baxter.

he'd probably worry abt not living up to baxter

baxter was always much more mature, at least it seemed that way most times. cove just worries about if he has the backbone and the ability to parent the child well and be someone they can look up to and/or appreciate for being a good father

cries if they call him dad btw

if they do it before you start dating, I imagine it's one of the catalyst that cause you to talk abt your feelings for each other. or if it's in the early stage..

cove prbly freezes and runs away to the other room n freaks out, definitely cries. if you don't talk to him like right after he calls his dad n cries n shares his worries n fear

either way, when you do talk he's biting his nails n trying not to pace around the room and he's like "if you wanna distance yourselves so that they don't call me dad any more I totally understand, I mean idk it's prbly weird for you-"

n he just rambles. like none of it makes sense n u have to physically shut him up. kiss him, yell, throw a pillow, hit him w the child's stuffed animal, throw a single lego brick at his back and watch him fall to the floor like he just got a nuke thrown at him

if it's later on n theres nothing to worry abt bc youve talked abt this or saw it coming or its just the otherwise most natural step, he cries of course

but he doesn't fall apart from being his in the back w a single fucking Lego as if it hurt 🙄🙄🙄🙄 (I hate this man he's DRAMATIC)

well... actually no he does

hit him, kiss him, hug him, run him over w a hotel wheels truck.... he just cries harder

adopts them like immediately basically

I imagine you do it soon, like maybe before the wedding just so that way you can have a private moment (just to save him some embarrassment from ugly crying in front of your families. in fact he just might faint fr)

n you + the kiddo surprise him w adoption papers (depending on how old the babe is at this point, they have like no idea what's going on but they know that cove is now officially recognized by the whole world (even by the unicorns n wizards n warlocks) as their daddy))

imagine laying in bed w cove n the kid in between you two

and when you wake up, cove is alrdy awake and was watching you two. he was petting the kids wild hair and he had pulled the two of you in and kept you under his arm..

and the sunlight is coming in, the day is just perfect. n the look on cove's face is full of so much love but also a bit somber this time

(cove feels awkward being here like this sometimes. during times like this you have to remind him it's okay, and you pull him back in. of course he does the same for you on those days.)

"I love you two. so much..." he whispers, tears sticking to his lashes

the kid flips over, curling into cove and they stop their sleepy mumbling now that they're tucked into cove's chest, feeling warm, happy, and safe.

you whisper equally as tender. "we were meant to be like this too."

also!! smth I just thought of...

imagine the kid looks mostly/very much like baxter. they act very much like cove's kid

like you would think cove n baxter had a kid together LOL

(if the resemblance is too much, they ask if you're the step parent </3 pls Ik it may not make sm sense but I just think it'd be so fuckin funny)

#olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #baxter ward #baxter ward x reader #angst #baxter ward angst #cove holden angst #angst with a happy ending

[jiracheer]

Heyy! If you write for raihan (idk if u do I’m sorry) but may I req a raihan x reader (fem if u want with a overprotective Glaceon they grew up with?

authors note ; i do write for raihan <3 i love the idea of this omg thank u sm for sending in a request!! <3 i hope ur okay that i did hcs since i was havin a bit of a hard time writing what i wanted to put down </3

new year, new layout. hopefully y'all like it >:)

tags ; gender neutral reader / established pkmn (glaceon) / gen n humor / no beta we die like men

wc ; 948

❄️you've had your glaceon since it was an egg. it was gifted to you on your 5th birthday with the promise of it being your life-long partner

❄️so once you were old enough to explore the world, your now newly hatched eevee was by your side through thick and thin. you both participated in whatever tournaments were happening, and even went as far as to challenge the champion at the time

❄️of course, you lost, which was a bit hard to take at the time, but that leon kid showed a lot of potential- and it helped that he quickly befriended you afterward. your eevee was rather fond of him and his team, and so were you

❄️so when leon introduced you to his other friends; sonia and raihan, you were ecstatic. you really felt like you were part of something! and your sweet eevee was able to befriend their pokemon, and of course, them as well in the process

❄️there was just... one thing that was a bit off. when eevee was ready to evolve, and you gave it the choice to evolve, it chose to become a glaceon. which you were thrilled about! raihan though? not so much

❄️he wasn't as dramatic as other dragon-type trainers who despise ice types, no it wasn't that

❄️he was upset that your glaceon basically was copying him

❄️it didn't take long for you to notice how similar his headband was to glaceon's fringe. it honestly made you laugh for a good 5 minutes

❄️and when raihan, jokingly, snapped at you for laughing at his demise? that's when your glaceon really came into touch with her cold nature

❄️it was quick to nip at his ankle with a pretty cold ice fang, causing him to jolt and shriek at the touch

❄️and from there on out, your glaceon was pretty guarded with raihan, especially when he was around you

❄️you knew that raihan didn't mean to lash out like that, it was all in fun and games- and you knew he wasn't actually upset

❄️it's just.... your glaceon didn't understand

❄️and it got worse overtime

❄️anytime raihan would get near you, glaceon would snap it's teeth at him or hit him with one of it's attacks to get him as far away from you as possible

❄️but when it came to the others; leon, kabu, gordie, hop, and whatever other male. glaceon seemed fine

❄️it just had a problem with him

❄️and it only got worse when the two of you started dating, and it especially became a problem when you moved into raihan's apartment many years later

❄️"we need to figure out this... problem. with your glaceon." raihan seemed serious, which was rare to see

❄️"maybe you two just need to bond. see where it goes from there, rai." a simple kiss to his cheek made him sigh, but he knew he had to make an effort

❄️because you were really trying your best! you've spoken to your glaceon, sought out help from sonia and professor magnolia

❄️now he had to step up to the plate

❄️so for months would raihan try to hand feed glaceon treats, only to be swiped at, or risk the possibility of getting frostbite

❄️he'd take over it's daily walks only to be dragging it around the neighborhood

❄️social media really had a blast with that one

❄️he'd take it to all of it's appointments, he'd even go as far as to try to bathe it

❄️which he'll never do again

❄️this goes on for what feels like forever, and raihan simply... gives up

❄️he flops onto you, head nestled against your stomach with his arms wrapped around your waist

❄️"I think your glaceon hates me."

❄️a soft coo sounded from you, your hand found his back and rubbed it. "you're making progress babe... you are."

❄️all he could do is sigh and express his woes to you, confessing to you that he wants to get along with your glaceon for the sake of your relationship. he loves you, and he loves you deeply, and he can't imagine anyone else that he'd rather spend his life with

❄️his words warm your heart and makes you kiss him, bringing him closer to you if possible

❄️raihan leans into your touch and sighs, mumbling how maybe he can ask his fans for advice- but he shudders at the idea. yeah no, he isn't doing that. that'll ruin his reputation

❄️just as he's about to push himself off of you, he feels pressure on his back. he thinks it's your hand but he holds his breath when he feels a familiar brush of cold air against the back of his neck

❄️you're just as quiet, also holding in your breath as you witness your glaceon pad over raihan's back to prop itself on his head to look at you, a soft cry sounding from it

❄️it was hungry

❄️you and raihan exchanged looks before you questioned your partner pokemon

❄️"are you... hungry?"

❄️a sound of agreement

❄️"then let's go eat dinner." raihan is who speaks next and he half expects a sound of disagreement from the ice type, but it never comes. instead, it jumps off of him to patiently sit on the floor, tail waving in the air

❄️you're just sitting there, baffled. raihan can't help but be just as surprised

❄️"see? I told you you're making progress."

❄️a sigh rings deep from dragon-type leader's chest, but a toothy smile appears on his face. you were right. he was making progress, and hopefully soon it'll blossom into a good relationship with the pokemon

❄️because he wanted to take your relationship to the next level, and he wanted glaceon's approval

#. ⭐ fics #pokemon x reader #pokemon raihan x reader #raihan x reader #pokemon swsh x reader

[m-jelly]

Extra special guest

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Mafia/gangster AU, being a couple, dominating Erwin, protective Erwin, kissing, suggestive themes.

Concept: On your way to a surprise date, Erwin needs to stop by his club to pick up something. Erwin asks you to wait for him at a table as he goes into his office. While waiting, a staff member starts shouting at you thinking you're a lazy member of staff. Erwin arrives and dishes out punishment before whisking you away.

This has been made for @ladycheesington She shared this amazing thought with me and I had to make it for her into a oneshot <3

Erwin tugged you against him in the back of his car as he kissed and nipped your neck. He smiled as you giggled in delight. He looked at his phone and growled in annoyance. He tapped on his phone quickly before releasing you and leaning forwards and chatting to his driver.

You fiddled with your dress. "Erwin?"

He sat back and sighed. "Sorry, kitten." He kissed you and hummed. "I need to go to a club and pick something up before we go on our surprise date."

You squeezed Erwin's thigh. "It's okay. I'm happy to wait."

He kissed your neck. "Thank you, my love. What a good girl you are."

You rubbed his broad chest and remembered how it was hanging over you this morning, dripping in sweat, heaving heavily, muscles moving as he ravaged you. You squeezed his plump pec and hummed in thought. You tilted your head a little and remembered his tattoos and the wonderful blonde chest hair that you'd massaged between your fingers.

Erwin placed his hand on yours. "You've got naughty thoughts going through your head, haven't you?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled his neck as you whined. "I was thinking about this morning."

"Mm, you moaned so nicely this morning." He kissed your forehead and sighed. "I'll top you off later."

You nibbled your lip knowing what he was talking about. You rubbed your legs together. "Erwin..."

He opened the car door and climbed out. He reached inside and took your hand before helping you out. "Let's go, my sweet."

You smiled softly as Erwin put his arm around you. He led you inside the club. The club was top of the line. Erwin had made sure that his club was safe for anyone coming in. The place had a wonderful pink and purple neon glow about it and made you feel so cosy and welcome. Erwin was an incredible club owner.

Erwin kissed your cheek. "Wait here at this table and I'll be back, okay?"

You nodded and waved to him as he walked over to his office. You leaned on the round table with stools around. You released a long sigh as you watched the staff restock and check the club. You smiled a little before pulling out your phone and humming a song to yourself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You looked up and stared at a man in a suit. "Sorry?"

He looked you up and down. "I said, what are you doing?"

You frowned. "I'm using my phone?"

He slammed his hand on your table. "Un-fucking-believable. You're joking with me, right? The cheek on you."

"I don't understand."

"You come into here not wearing your uniform and looking like a whore." He shook his head. "You're just a lazy bitch! Do you know who I work for? I work for Erwin Smith. He will rip you apart for the shit you are pulling."

You stood up. "Oh, but-."

He snatched your phone away from you. "You'll get this at the end of your shift!" He shoved the phone into his pocket. "You know, in all my years never have I seen anyone as slutty looking, spineless, pathetic and lazy like you."

You were in shock you could barely think. "Mm..."

"Really? You're gonna cry now? Pathetic! You're not going to get far here. I will make sure you are out on your ass by the end of the day!"

"Excuse me?" Both of you looked over at Erwin. "What is going on here?"

You welled up as you gazed at Erwin. "Erwin."

"Kitten."

You ran over to Erwin and dove into his arms. You clung to his shirt desperately and whimpered. "He shouted at me."

The manager panicked a little as he felt confused about what he was seeing. "Mr Smith, sir, I was just telling her that she can't just-."

Erwin held his finger up to the manager as he gazed at you trying to hide your tears. "Tell me what he said, little kitten."

You sniffed. "He said I was dressed slutty and I was a lazing bitch."

The manager shook a little. "Sir, I was just-."

Erwin held his finger up again and hushed the manager. He rubbed your cheek with his other hand. "Nobody talks like that to my girl." Erwin cradled your face in his big hands. He kissed you on the lips before kissing the end of your nose. He pushed his hands in his pocket and pulled out his leather gloves. "Now, my little cute kitten, you know what I have to do, don't you?"

Your eyes sparkled in delight. You nodded and hummed in response. "Mhm."

He smiled so sweetly at you. "Good girl. Turn around and don't look until I tell you."

"Yes, Erwin."

You turned your back to Erwin and hummed a song to yourself. You nibbled your lip and shifted on your feet. A shiver of delight ran up your spine as you heard fists meeting flesh. You held back a moan at hearing bones break. Pleads and whimpers of sorries came from the manager. You flinched a little when furniture and glass broke. Then everything went quiet.

Loving hands ran over your shoulders. Familiar lips pressed against your neck. Erwin smiled and spoke against your ear. "Good girl. Let's head out and no peeking."

"Yes, Erwin."

Erwin pushed you along and led you out of the back of his club. He stopped you in the alleyway. "My love, my darling, my kitten, are you okay?"

You shook a little. "I'm still a bit shaken."

Erwin handed you your phone back. "He was out of line, my love." He kissed you and hummed. "You have nothing to worry about now, okay? It's all okay, I took care of him and he won't bother you again."

You sighed a little. "But he must speak terribly to your staff. I'm worried about them."

He pressed you against the wall and kissed you. "I've taken care of him, okay? I'll make sure my staff are taken care of. I will send them things to say sorry for their shit manager, but they rather liked me beating him within an inch..." He stared at you wide-eyed. "They're all going to be just fine." He smiled a little. "You are so cute to worry about them. You are the best thing in my life."

You moaned in delight as Erwin pressed his lips against yours. You parted your lips and accepted his hot tongue into your mouth. You sighed through your nose as he kissed you with all the love in his heart. You let Erwin lead you back to the wall. You hummed as you were pressed against the wall.

Erwin slipped his hand up and under your shirt. He squeezed your sensitive skin making you shiver. He pulled back a little and tapped his forehead against yours. "We have a date to go on."

You licked your lips. "Yes, Erwin."

#jelly fanfics #erwin fluff #commander erwin #erwin smith #aot erwin #shingeki no kyoujin erwin #snk erwin #attack on titan erwin #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin attack on titan #erwin aot #erwin smith x you #erwin x reader #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith fanfiction #aot fanfiction #erwin smith aot #erwin smith fluff

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 15 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Mentions of Blood/Miscarriage/Medical trauma. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: The ANGST is real, y'all, and I'm not letting you off the hook after Part 14, sorry! This one was a beast to get out of my brain and the block was real for so many reasons, but we made it! It's here! Just so y'all know, this part is very much a bridge to all the crazy stuff that is to come. Reader is going through it and taking all of us with her. And I promise that more smut is coming (if you are only here for that, you horny animals! LOL). Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics that carry over from Part 14!

Thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Unexpected life crap/emotions/writer's block killed me on this one, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me! I rewrote the beginning of this part no less than four times, and FINALLY it clicked so here we are! Hooray! Thanks for helping me get through this!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

No!

The scream catches in your throat as you wake with a start, clutching your belly in a panic, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you feel like it is attempting to flee your chest. It takes a moment to figure out where you are. The night is warm and the sky is vast, and you are so far up you feel like you’re still dreaming.

“Baby, are you okay?” Elvis sits up straight in his lounge chair and turns to you. You can see, or better sense, the concern in his eyes, even in the darkness. This sends a shiver of recognition down your spine as your dream (or is it a memory?) flashes back to you in fragments. His eyes are older now, but the look remains the same, feels the same. 

“I..I..I…” you stutter, shaking your head, unable to be coherent. No, you are not okay. Looking down, you half expect to see blood pooling between your legs, but thankfully there is none. You feel stuck in the haze between reality and dreams, or reality and what you are afraid might actually be the past.

You feel like screaming, but the impulse sticks in your throat, strangling you.

There was a reason, you think, that you never remembered that horrible night from nearly a decade ago. That you’d only been able to piece together snippets of what really happened from vague accounts of the people you’d been with that night. Elvis, in particular, had been purposefully scarce on details.

And you had been fine with that, truly not wanting to relive your trauma in any way, shape, or form. You’d even been grateful when the doctor told you it was normal for your mind to protect you from your near-death experience, that you might never remember the details of that night, and you determined the memory loss a blessing.

When you’d woken in the sterile hospital, drugged and dazed, the doctor told you’d had an ectopic pregnancy, that the baby—no, the “fertilized egg,” he’d said—had gotten stuck in your fallopian tube instead of your uterus. Unfortunately, your fallopian tube ruptured as the baby grew, and you had massive hemorrhaging, nearly dying in that skating rink. They were able to do surgery and stop the bleeding, but the baby was gone, and you were told it never would have come to term.

It was the worst thing that had ever happened to you. The grief and heartache, the disappointment, the feeling like an utter failure that your body had betrayed you in such a way. No, you were fine not remembering the details. You’d wanted to forget all about it. It didn’t matter to you that the specifics weren’t there, that not everyone’s stories lined up or made complete sense. You just wanted to push it all away.

But now…this dream felt so incredibly real, at least the parts that you remembered. As dreams do, it begins to fade, leaving only a few missing puzzle pieces that start to slot into place. Desperately, you try to wipe it all away again, but it’s too late. You are trying to convince yourself it had to be a dream, that the flashes you are remembering (or more so feeling), couldn’t have possibly happened that way. Except many of the parts you do remember are true and really happened: Elvis’ coming home, how you’d been so inexplicably enamored with him, and how he'd been so concerned he’d done something to hurt you—all of that was real.

But the night of the Rollerdome is where things get choppy. Those parts of the dream are still but snippets and feelings, overwhelming ones at that, and you have no memories to compare them to. Could it be that you lost the baby and almost died in Elvis’ arms after he’d come to your rescue when…when…something else happened? You can’t grasp why he’d needed to come to your rescue or what led up to being in his arms on the floor—it all slips through your fingers like water through a sieve.

God, but the pain you are remembering right now…it is all so much worse than you’d imagined.

It’s like you can sense it happening all over again rather than simply remembering, your belly cramping and lightheadedness threatening your vision. The frantic panic of fearing the worst pours through your veins now almost as it did then. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe.

Then there was Elvis, pulling you into his lap; you can feel the terror he tried so unsuccessfully to hide, how obvious it was in the shaking stutter of his voice as he was doused in your blood. Then, it fades again, leaving you with the distinct feeling that something important (other than losing the baby) happened on the floor of that roller rink, but it disappears into the ether before you can lock on to it.

“…Oh, God, don’t—”

All of it is too much, all at once.

You are barely conscious of the tears pouring down your cheeks, and you awkwardly stagger up from the lounge chair you’d fallen asleep on while traveling to the moon and the stars. Just you and me and the moon and the stars…You feel dizzy from getting up too fast, from the physical memory of it all and you sway, but your body overrides it with the need to flee, as if you can outrun the past.

“Hey, hey, hey! Honey, what’s happenin’? What’s wrong?” Elvis asks, confused, leaping up, grabbing your shoulders.

You tear yourself from his grasp, staggering for the door that will lead you off the roof and hopefully out of this hell your mind has sought to drag you into. Nothing makes sense. You feel trapped in a daze of psychic and physical pain, none of which is helpful or wanted. All the peace from your moment with the moon and the stars has evaporated in an instant. You reach the door and yank it open.

“Y/n, stop! Wait just a damn minute!” he says firmly, pulling you back to him, his cold rings digging into your forearm like chains.

“Elvis, let me go! You have to let me go!” you shout, trying to break free, but his hold on you is fierce. “Oh, god, I can’t do this,” you gasp, barely able to look at him.

You know you are being unfair to him in your reaction, but you feel betrayed. Betrayed by your body, betrayed by your mind, and betrayed by him, all at once. All logic is lost.

“Can’t do what, honey? I don’t understand what you’re goin’ on about,” Elvis asks in confusion, and you can tell by the roughness in his tone that he is frustrated but is trying to be patient with you. You don’t blame him. You must seem out of your mind, having a breakdown every other minute you are with him.

A deep part of you feels absolutely mortified at the entire situation. You’d had no idea that it was Elvis who’d found you and that something so horribly personal and tragic, your worst failure, was laid out before him so vulnerably. And to think he never mentioned it again makes you both grateful and angry. How could an experience like that be brushed under the rug, like nothing ever happened?

Suddenly all the beautiful bouquets of flowers he sent from afar in those weeks after it happened start to make a bit more sense, as does the distance that started to grow between you two. You had originally blamed it solely on him having to leave right away for Florida (he hadn’t even been there when I’d woken up in the hospital), then it was all the recording he’d needed to get done, and then just like that, he was out in Hollywood filming again. And when he was home after that, you remembered, he did not seek you out to spend any one-on-one time together. Now you wonder if he’d been purposefully avoiding you, and that makes you feel both offended and embarrassed.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe somehow while still feeling like the world is closing in on you. The way your heart beats so quickly drives you to escape, but Elvis’ grip is like a vise, anchoring you to the spot. Everything hurts—a long-buried grief radiating through you like a tidal wave that has been held back far too long. Its icy flood consumes you, tightening your chest, and the healed scar on your belly feels like it’s being ripped open.

Finally, you say with shaking breaths, “I had a terrible nightmare. Or…or a memory, I’m not quite sure which…It felt—feels—so real, like it’s happening all over again.”

“What? What’s happening all over again?” Elvis asks with concern in his azure eyes.

“The baby. The night I lost the baby…god, there was so much blood. It was awful,” you choke out. “Were you really there? Was it you who found me, who held onto me?” you ask frantically, looking up at him for answers, for confirmation.

If you weren’t so consumed by the overpowering feelings rolling over you, you might catch the fleeting panic that flashes across his face before that unreadable mask he’s so carefully crafted over the years takes its place.

“What do you remember?” he asks evenly, calmly.

“Well, I…it’s all jumbled, flashes really. Being at the rink. Then suddenly blinding, horrible pain,” you grimace, arms wrapping around your abdomen, “and then I’m in your arms, bleeding everywhere, and everything gets distant and cold and numb and terrifying. And then it all fades away,” you whisper, looking at him for any sign of the truth of it.

You almost think you see relief in his eyes (why?), but it’s only for a second and then is gone. “That’s what you remember?”

You nod.

He continues, “Yeah, it was like that. I found you, baby. I held you until help got there. It was…awful,” he shudders, those almond eyes of his clouding, the memory obviously affecting him in some way.

“I…almost died,” you breathe. Of course, you logically already knew this to be true, but that was before you remembered how it felt.

“Yes, you did,” Elvis replies solemnly, his eyes churning with emotion, bringing his thumb to your cheek to wipe away the tears you have forgotten are falling.

“It hurts. Here. Now. I don’t know why,” you whisper. Though the pain has ebbed some, it still is intense, overwhelming. Perhaps it is because something about it still feels unfinished and hidden from you, like you are still missing some integral piece. You look at him as though he can give you the relief you so desperately seek, and you can’t help but feel that he is keeping something from you based on the look in his eyes.

“I don’t know either, but you’re safe now,” Elvis says, pulling you into him. He thinks he is good at shielding his emotions from you, and maybe he used to be, but now, after everything that has happened this past week, you can sense the turmoil beneath the softness of his pretty features. It sets you on edge. Enough secrets have been kept from you at this point in your life to recognize the signs, even if only intuitively.

Standing there on the roof, he rocks you gently, and the burning pain in your abdomen begins to subside, but is quickly replaced by unease, a rock of it forming in the pit of your stomach. Something is amiss and you can’t put your finger on it, but it has something to do with that terrible night. And with Elvis.

You watch him carefully as he leads you to the stairs, gingerly, like you might shatter into a million pieces. While you indeed felt that way only moments ago, worry and curiosity wind their way through your mind as you grasp at pieces of quickly-fading memories, searching for something, anything, that supports this intuitive feeling in your gut. You do not find it.

However, as you come back into his darkened suite, you are reminded of the fact that you should not be here, that your husband must be wondering where you got off to. It is nearly dawn, and you aren’t in your room.

And, oh dear lord, all the yelling and the noise that you and Elvis made earlier must have been overheard. Suddenly you are nauseous.

“Elvis,” you say, clasping his forearm in a panic.

“What, baby?” he looks at you, confused, concerned.

“We made a lot of noise earlier…”

A slow, wide grin spreads over his face, but that almost predatory darkness from before lingers in his eyes. “Oh, honey, I sent everyone away after that little stunt of yours in the bathroom with Jack,” he laughs, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He still isn’t happy about that.

Relief washes over you at the fact that your escapades remained private, although, you don’t know exactly who “everyone” is because his Mafia members were never too far from their master.

The unease is back, snaking through your mind. “I have to get back,” you say, “Jack must be wondering where I am.”

“He’s likely in the casino, and you, my dear, went back to Sandy’s room and fell asleep there.” The lie falls off his tongue so easily, and while you are grateful for the excuse, this ability of his gives you pause as you find the remnants of your clothes strewn about the room.

Everything feels off. It’s as though your dream-memory has exposed something, but you cannot put your finger on what, only that something about Elvis is itching at you.

Something important.

Your mind and your insides are still reeling from everything this night has entailed and uncovered. You shakily dress and try to clean yourself up before having to face the world outside of Elvis’ private suite. Between the wildly intense sex and the jarring memories your sleep unlocked, you are exhausted and wonder how you can possibly process any of this and still present “things as usual” to the rest of the world.

Finally ready to head out the door, Elvis stops you. “Wait,” he says, spinning you back to him and pulling you close. His luscious lips brush yours so sweetly, with such yearning, as if he hasn’t had you in nearly every way already tonight. You melt into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of him solid and comforting. You forget all your doubts and questions for the moment, unable to focus on anything but the pillowy softness of his gentle kisses and the way his strong hands cup your jaw and pull you to him. The man has you fully under his spell, and right now, as his tongue laps at yours, you do not care about anything else.   

When he pulls back, you whine at the loss of him, and being him, he senses your need, and gives you a cheeky smirk.

“Later, darlin’, I promise,” he says, brushing your cheek. “I want you backstage again tonight, okay?” It’s less of a question and more a gentle command.

You nod, getting lost in those endless blues of his. Then you shake yourself off and head out the door, shutting it quietly behind you in your best effort to sneak out, your mind beginning to whirl again the moment you are out of his presence.

Lost in a fog of thoughts, your focus is on the ground, so when you collide with another body in the hallway, you nearly jump out of your skin, flying backwards and catching yourself before you tumble to the ground.

“Well, shit,” a familiar voice intones slowly and with surprise as you look up.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Red.

Your eyes go wide as saucers as your brain tries to scramble up an excuse of why you’d be coming out of Elvis’ suite at this hour looking as you do, and you quickly realize that there is no other plausible explanation. Your mouth opens then closes aimlessly. And the smirk on Red’s face makes it quite clear that he understands the situation fully.

Your heart thunders in your ribcage as you stand frozen like a dear in headlights. This is very, very bad. Jerry is one thing—you have no doubts of his loyalty to Elvis and keeping his secrets. But Red, he is quite a different situation. He is loyal to Elvis, to be sure, but for a price. And he is friends with Jack and has been since the beginning. You had never taken to Red—something about him always irked you, but it was never truly an issue before this moment.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n,” Red tsks at you, a nasty gleam in his eye, “Now what kind’a trouble you been gettin’ up to?” It’s obvious he knows exactly what kind.

You finally find your voice. “Red,” you say in what you hope is a warning but considerate tone, “I’m sure we can both just forget this ever happened. We wouldn’t want to upset anyone.” There’s no need to say their names, you both know who you mean. But your voice is too shaky and even you can’t take yourself seriously.

“Hmm, maybe,” Red ponders infuriatingly. You want to wipe that smug look right off his face.

You both stand there staring for a minute before you finally straighten yourself. You desperately want to turn and go back to Elvis to plead with him to drop Red off somewhere in the middle of the desert, but you know E needs his rest and this conversation can’t happen now. So instead, you square your shoulders, dread pooling in your stomach.

“Excuse me, I have to be going,” you say a little haughtily.

Red just laughs, “I bet you do, sweetheart.”

The endearment is anything but, coming out snide instead. A cold shiver runs down your spine. Finally, you break the tension and push past him, trying to keep your gait steady and unhurried, when all you want to do is to sprint to the door. But you make it without doing so, holding your breath the whole way. Once in the hall, you pound the elevator button multiple times as if that will make a difference in how fast it arrives. Then you feel like you can breathe again, once tucked safely and blissfully alone inside the car, heading down.

You don’t trust Red. Not one bit.

Panic rises up from your stomach, an acidic, bitter bile. This is exactly what you’ve been afraid of. You can feel the rickety foundation of your lies begin to sway under your feet. Not only are you feeling unmoored because of whatever your dream-memory unlocked about Elvis that you can’t pinpoint, but this hits you where it hurts. You reap what you sow, and you have been sowing quite a bit.

All the doubt that Elvis washed away with his gentle kisses mere minutes ago comes back to hit you full force. You must end this, you’ve got to, and you know, oh god, you know it will break your heart, but you cannot live anymore with this fear that is eating you from the inside out.

You were never meant to be this person. You are not special, certainly not special enough to warrant true love from Elvis Presley. You are just a housewife from Tennessee whose husband is a liar and a cheat. You were bored and now you’re in over your head.

Get out. Run, as far away and as fast as you can! your mind screams at you. God, you can’t breathe. For the second time today, you feel as though the air has been stolen from your lungs and like the ground is crumbling underneath your feet.

You are not strong enough for this. You were not made for lying and cheating and sneaking around. The weight of it all feels untenable as you knock on Sandy’s door.

When it opens, she doesn’t even say a word. One look at you and she’s yanking you inside.

“Red knows,” you eek out before she has a chance to say anything.

“Shit,” she curses and brings you to sit down on the bed. Then she steals away, and you hear water running.

You don’t realize you are shaking until she hands you the glass of water and it nearly spills all over your dress. You gulp it down, suddenly parched.

“What the hell happened last night?” she finally asks, after you’ve downed the glass of water and manage to take in some slow breaths. “You disappeared with Jack,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose, “and then Elvis looked like he was gonna lose his damn mind and kicked everyone out, but you were nowhere to be found. Then, Jerry called and told me that if anyone asked, you were with me all night.”

Setting the empty glass on the side table, you put your head in your hands. “Oh, Sandy, I feel like every decision I am making is insane. I don’t even recognize myself.”

Sandy just looks at you with expectation in her eyes, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Elvis and I had quite an…argument about me being with Jack. And then we had crazy, hot sex, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” you sigh and Sandy grins like an idiot. “Then he took me up on the roof to look at the moon, and I fell asleep and had this horrible—well, it was a nightmare, but I think it was actually a memory I repressed. Oh, it was awful.”

Sandy looks at you quizzically. “A repressed memory? What do you mean?”

“Well, you know I can’t have kids…but way back in ’60, I had an ectopic pregnancy that resulted in me miscarrying and almost bleeding to death on the floor of the Rollerdome,” you ramble out, the water you just drank making you feel sick to your stomach.

“Oh my god, hon, that’s terrible,” she says pulling you in for a hug.

“Obviously, there are reasons I don’t talk about it, but also, I didn’t remember any of it. The doc said my brain did it to protect me from the trauma. Until this morning, I didn’t have any idea of what really happened. But now…I had these flashes, these glimpses, of the horrible pain. It was like living it all over again. Like I could feel it happening, San,” you say, clutching your stomach. “And what I didn’t realize was that Elvis was there for all of it. He was holding me and watching me die. There was blood everywhere.”

“Jesus,” Sandy breathes.

“And he never told me that he was there! How could we go through something like that together and him not say a damn word? And I swear something else happened, something he’s not telling me. I just feel like he’s hiding something about it, something I still can quite put my finger on,” you add rapidly.

“Well, honey, maybe it was traumatic for him, too. And I’m sure he didn’t want to make you relive all that,” Sandy says reasonably, patting your knee.

“That makes logical sense, San, I know it does, but it’s not just that, I’m telling you…I’ve been having these dreams, these memories, come up since being with him, things I am just now remembering. I don’t know,” you shake your head, frustrated. “It’s like a puzzle that is missing pieces and I just can’t quite put it all together.”

“How can I help, hon?” Sandy asks, her eyes comforting and kind.

“You’re doing it, babe, by just listening,” you say, squeezing her hand. “So, when I woke up from the dream, E seemed closed off about what I was telling him. I mean, he confirmed he was there, and that he’d held me, but I could just tell he wasn’t letting me in on everything. I feel like I’m noticing just how well and how easily he seems to bend the truth to suit his needs, and now I’m doing it, too,” you say, ashamed.

“And how does Red fit into all this?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, god, yeah. I literally ran into him coming out of Elvis’ room. You should have seen the smug look on his face, San. I am so fucking screwed,” you sigh, flinging yourself back on the bed.

“Just tell Elvis! He won’t let Red get away with anything,” Sandy points out.

“I won’t see him until tonight, and by then, everyone might already know!” You look at Sandy frantically, pleadingly. “I feel crazy, and I hate all these stupid emotions! Jesus, who even am I anymore? Am I this woman who lies and cheats and hides things, not just from everyone, but from herself, too?”

Sandy looks at you, pausing as she seems to gather her thoughts. “Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, you are finally breaking free of everything that’s been holding you back? That you are just scared of all of this because it’s new and different and a risk? Before this last week, when was the last time you even took a risk, y/n? When was the last time you actually allowed yourself to really feel anything? Hon, you’ve spent so much time pushing down everything that you are and could be because of Jack and what you think you have to be for him. Maybe all this is just you becoming…you. Making decisions for yourself, ones that make you happy,” Sandy says with the love only she could give you.

You choke back a sob, “But who I am is an awful person, Sandy. I can’t seem to do anything right. I’m a liar and a cheat, which is everything I hate about Jack. I’m stuck in this dysfunctional marriage that I’m dependent on, and I was the reason we couldn’t build the big family we both wanted. I’m in love with someone I have no business being in love with, a man who is so utterly beyond my reach, who could never love me the way I need him to. I…God, I can’t even trust my memories!” Your utter heartbreak at everything aches through your chest, a painful reminder of everything you lack. Shaking with tears, you curl into a ball.

“Oh, hon,” Sandy says gently. She grabs your shoulders and hauls you up. “Look at me.”

You force yourself to meet her gaze, tears leaking from your eyes.

“You have to stop beating yourself up, baby. You’re not perfect, none of us are, but you are certainly not an awful person, not one little bit. You are full of love and kindness and talent, and you’ve put yourself last for so damn long that putting yourself first feels wrong to you,” she says so matter-of-factly that you have no choice but to listen.

“But I’ve made such a mess of things,” you whimper.

“Yeah, well, Jack pushed you to it, hon. And Elvis, well, he’s Elvis, and resisting that man takes a fortitude of will that not many women possess. What I’m saying is, this is not all on you.”

But you still feel like a powder keg about to explode, all your anguish and self-doubt clawing its way out of you, ripping you to shreds along the way.

“No, no, no. I have to…I have to end this,” you shake your head, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore. It feels like hell.”

Sandy purses her lips and gives you a look. “Did you even listen to a word I just said, hon? Let me make it clearer for you: You love Elvis. You don’t love Jack, not anymore. Leave the fucker and go be with the man you love, guilt free! Jack’s a big boy, he’ll survive.”

She makes it sound so easy, but it is anything but, at least to you, and you’re the one living it. “I can’t, Sandy, I can’t just do that! I’m dependent on Jack, who is dependent on Elvis. Without either of them, I have nothing. No job, no money, nothing. So tell me what happens when E gets tired of me, huh? Then I will literally be out on the street, Sandy!” you yell.

“God, you are just determined to be miserable, aren’t you? So determined that you are blind to the obvious!” Sandy shakes her head in frustration, then takes a deep, calming breath before lowering her voice to continue, “I can’t make you feel that you are enough—only you can do that, hon. But you are. You are enough for me, and certainly enough for Elvis.”

“You don’t know that, Sandy! Besides, Elvis is keeping shit from me, too! And I haven’t been enough for Jack for a long time!” you holler.

“Fuck Jack, y/n! Fuck him! He’s not worthy of you, not the other way around. You have to start to see that, hon!” she yells back, her cheeks reddening.

“None of that changes the situation! Red knows, and you and I both know he’s gonna make trouble, and it’s gonna all blow back on me. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in all of it, my marriage, this affair, the lies, this fucking insane world of Elvis’! I can’t…Fuck this shit,” you say, standing up, every nerve in your body flying on a horrible roller coaster than you can’t seem to get off of.

The only solution you can see is to remove yourself from the equation.

“I’m gonna say goodbye to Elvis, to Vegas, to all of it. I’m leaving on the first plane out of here tonight,” you say with finality, standing up. It makes you feel like you finally have some semblance of control over your life.

“Y/n. I don’t think this is the solution you think it is, hon—” Sandy starts.

“Look, I appreciate everything you are trying to do here, but I’m the one living this, not you, and it feels like hell right now. I need out. I’m going home,” you say harshly, swiping the tears off your face. It’s like you are pulling a steel door over all the turmoil you’ve been feeling, shutting out the pain so you can do what you should have done days ago.

You don’t want to relive the trauma of your miscarriage or remember all these fleeting and confusing moments with Elvis anymore. You don’t want to think about what Elvis is hiding from you, because you just know it’s something important and you can’t take another man you love lying to you. You don’t want to see Jack. You don’t want to completely upend everything you’ve known for the last fourteen years. You don’t want to be in love with a man who could never truly love you back the way you need him to. Because they never do.

And your heart aches in every way—for the baby you never met, for the man you used to love, and for the man you love now—it all radiates through you like poison, threatening to cripple you. You can’t stay like this. Anything to escape these horrible feelings, this seemingly unending wave of fear and uncertainty.

Sandy looks at you resigned and disapprovingly, shaking her head. “Fine. You do what you gotta do. But running away ain’t gonna solve anything.”

The hell it won’t.

*

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#Pink Scarf #Pink Scarf Part 15 #elvis #elvis presley #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #austin butler elvis #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis imagine #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis angst

[male-reader-haven]

Y/N Coming Out as Trans (Stray Kids Imagine)

Stray kids react to their crush coming out as transmasc

Tags: Skz x transmasc reader, wholesome

Warnings: Mentions of dysphoria, depression, transphobia

Suggested by @catxoyciel <3 Sorry for the slight Hyunjin gif jumpscare lol but I loved that gif too much not to use it!!!

Bang Chan

"Y/N..." He starts, thinking hard about what to say next. "I hope you know that I want you to always feel safe and happy, and you know how much I encourage you and others to be comfortable in their own skin, myself included..." He looks up at you and smiles.

"I'm so proud of how far you've come, bro!"

You can feel yourself tearing up at his choice of words, overwhelmed by his support.

"Chan, thank you, you have no idea how..." Chan cuts you off by standing up and hugging you tightly, causing you to full on sob.

"I will always support you, no matter what."

Minho

"Oh, okay, that makes sense." Leeknow nods, looking you in the eyes and listening intently.

"What do you mean by that?..." You ask somewhat defensively.

"Ah, not in a bad way or anything!" He waves his hands in front of him. "Sorry, that came out wrong. It's just, talking to you has always felt so comfortable, like talking to the other guys. I think it suits you." He smiles. "So, what name should I call you now?"

You smile, knowing you can talk to him anytime, and even if he might not understand completely, he will listen and support you.

Changbin

Changbin nods thoughtfully and listens to you speak.

"Okay, I see." He gets up and opens his arms, signaling for you to hug him. "It takes a lot of courage to tell me that, and I respect you so much for it. Of course I will always be there for you!"

You accept his hug, melting into his tight grip.

"I was so scared you wouldn't understand..." You sigh.

"I may not understand completely, but I know how hard it is to try to bottle up how you feel, and I know how it feels to not fit with your body." He lets go of you and holds your shoulders. "Would you maybe want to start working out with me? Maybe it can help?"

Hyunjin

After being told your preferred name and pronouns, Hyunjin just nods.

"Ah, ok. Gotcha." He continues opening the fridge door, searching for snacks.

"So that's it?" You question.

"Well, I mean, nothing really changes, does it? You're still you." He smiles and turns to look at you over his shoulder. "I'm glad you told me though. I'm happy you're quest in finding yourself is progressing." He goes back to looking through the fridge and sighs.

"Nothing good. Want to order takeout in celebration?"

Han

Han is confused, but not because he doesn't support you. He simply doesn't know enough about the topic to understand fully, so he sits and listens to you explain.

"Can I ask a few questions? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, i just want to make sure I get it right." He looks at you wide-eyed.

After you explain to him further, his face turns from confused and intrigued to understanding and solemn.

"Thank you. For telling me, I mean." He looks at the ground. "I really hope I never made you feel bad... I know I can joke around a lot and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel dysphoric." He looks back up at you with determined eyes. "I'll do my absolute best from now on. Us bros got to stick together, okay?" He grins, gets up and holds your hands. You simply smile and nod, proud of him for his willingness to learn.

Felix

You stand rigid yet tall as you tell Felix. You are nervous, sure, but you've never been more certain of yourself in your life. Your passion comes across, and Felix looks you up and down wide-eyed.

"You know, I think this is the most authentic and confident I've seen you." He grins. "I'm so proud of you!"

You relax, nervousness gone and replaced by elation at his response. You knew he wouldn't reject you or shun you, but it was still nerve-wracking.

"Hey, want to go through my closet and see if you find anything you like? I love seeing you confident and I want to see more of that. Oh, we can go get your hair done too if you want! Gosh, this is exciting! We could throw a little gender reveal party." You both laugh and spend the rest of the day shopping and giving you a makeover.

Seungmin

Seungmin nods, seemingly only half paying attention to what you're saying while he scrolls on his phone, which frustrates you a bit.

"...so yeah, I guess I'm trans." You say half-heartedly.

"So do you have a binder yet?" He asks without looking up.

"I- huh?" You are taken aback that he knows what a binder even is.

"If you don't, i'd suggest one from GC2B or Transsupply, they have safe binders for beginners. They also have other products as well." He looks up and shows you his phone, showing you the websites he had pulled up.

"Oh, wow, okay. No, I don't have one yet, but I want to get one right away." You are still a bit surprised.

"No worries, I'll send you the links. Also, do you have a new name you want to be called? I'll make sure to use it, but if you don't have one yet we can brainstorm."

"Y-yeah, thanks. And also, it's Y/N."

"Y/N..." He looks up for a moment thinking, then nods and smiles. "Y/N. It suits you."

I.N

"Y/N, for how long-" I.N has a catch in his throat. "How long have you felt like this?" He looks up at you with worried eyes.

"Well, I always knew something was wrong... I only recently found a word for it..." You explain. You notice how sullen he looks. "Jeongin, whats wrong? You aren't upset, are you?"

He shakes his head furiously.

"N-no, of course not! I'm so glad you figured it out. I just, I feel guilty not having noticed sooner." You chuckle and put a hand to his cheek.

"I don't expect you to figure me out before I figure myself out bud, so don't go beating yourself up." You smile, causing him to smile back.

"Well, if it wasn't obvious before, I support you." He chuckles. "Let's both do our best for ourselves going forward, yeah?"

Send me suggestions on what to write next! ~<3

--Masterlist--

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x transmasc reader #stray kids smut #stray kids stay #skz #skz imagine #skz scenarios #bang chan #leeknow #changbin #han jisung #felix #hyunjin #I.N #jeongin #seungmin