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pierregazly · 28 days

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tying you to me ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x reader

warnings: sweet max, random coincidences to lovers trope, happy ending [wc: 4.3k]

[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you).

Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?

It felt like a never-ending nightmare.

One thing after another, one bad day after another, one bad week after the next. It felt like it was never going to end.

The person that was supposed to be that person, the man that was supposed to be forever, the person that was going to be standing at the end of the aisle... leaving with a simple apology and a ‘I’m sorry, it’s me, not you’... it was incomprehensible.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t wrap your head around what had gone wrong. Was he telling the truth? Was it really him? Or was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the blunder? The inevitable demise?

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you, it was so evident it wasn’t meant to be. Nothing connected to him, there were no signs pointing to him being the one, there was no inevitable connection. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the internal heartbreak that felt like it was never going to end.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling, that pulled you to another person, that proved they were the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know that it was so obvious, he just wasn’t that person.

The coffee shop you currently sat in had become a morning staple after the last few weeks. After coming back to Monaco for a much-needed reprieve from the rest of the world, the little coffee shop nestled into the charming walls of Monte-Carlo had become a necessary distraction to the outside.

The employees all knew you by name now, often passing by the table and inquiring about your day, inquiring about the book you were reading, or the work assignment shown on your computer screen. Always engaging in polite conversation back, it was one of your favourite places to be.

People-watching was the only negative of it. The loving couples who passed through, all cuddled up together as they ordered their drinks for their walk throughout the city, the older couples who sat just tables away and reminisced on their lives together. It was the only thing that drove you crazy about the charming little shop.

Watching them occupied your thoughts more time’s than you cared to admit. Daydreaming and losing focus on the outside world was a commonality, especially in the little coffee shop.

It was exactly where you found yourself currently, your eye’s peering to the left as you watched an older man place his hand over who you assumed to be his wife’s hand. Their wedding bands shining brightly in the Monaco sun, soft smiles on their faces as they peered at one another, your heart begging to be let out of this turmoil, begging you to turn away and focus on something else, anything else.

Its wish was granted when you felt the cold of a drink begin to sink into your shirt, instantly soaking your skin, a gasp of shock falling from your lips.

“Oh god, I am so sorry. I just turned around and you were right there, let me grab some cloths, please.”

You knew instantly it was your own fault, you hadn’t been paying attention, more focused on the elderly couple, prompting the person in front of you to spill their... was that Red Bull? On your shirt?

“Is this Red Bull?”

The man in front of you grimaced as he handed you the dry cloths, a small smile falling across his lips while his eyes crinkled with the movement of his face. A bit of a cute look, you thought to yourself while beginning to dab at your shirt as the smell of the energy drink wafted up your nose.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I don’t drink coffee often, but my sister wanted to stop here because she had heard good things, I was just waiting for her drink while she took a quick call outside. I really only drink Red Bull in public when I have to, or when I’m getting paid to. I thought it was her behind me when I whipped around like that, I’m so sorry. Please, can I buy you a coffee as an apology? Or a tea?”

You weren’t entirely sure if the rambling was out of nerves that you were going to overreact over the spilt drink, or if he just simply felt like he owed it to you to explain the entire incident and how it came about in full description.

The frustration that was brewing was not at all a fault of the cute man in front of you, but an accumulation of days of sadness, an irregular appetite, and just a combination of heartbreak.

Trying to keep the tears of frustration at bay, you instantly shook your head towards the cute man in front of you. “Thank you, but no. Obviously this is a sign I need to go home, sorry for spilling your drink.”

Before he could get the chance to say anything back, you were forcing yourself to rush out of the coffee shop before an outburst could erupt from inside of you. You hadn’t even noticed the look of intrigue that the Dutchman gave you.

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab On your first trip to LA You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

The memory of the handsome Dutchman in the small coffee shop left your mind not long before the happy memories of your ex-boyfriend finally forced themselves out of your head. Things had finally begun looking up, the more time you spent with your friends, the more time you spent focusing on work and the hopeful promotion that would come with it.

Although, your boss had insisted you take a few weeks off, citing the fact you were there more than anyone she knew, and that burnout was inevitable if you didn’t take the much deserved and obligated time off. The amount of overtime and banked hours allowing you to take the time off with full pay just made it easier to agree.

Which was exactly how you found yourself just south of Zurich, the snow whipping past your face as the ski lift ascended higher and higher up the mountain. Your friends giggled beside you, smiles lighting up everyone’s faces.

Winter break, although cold and snowy, was always a fan favourite amongst your friend group. It was exhilarating, you hadn’t had the chance to attend the annual ski trip while you were with your ex-boyfriend, he hated skiing and anything including winter sports.

It’s what made the trip even better, getting the chance to catch up with your friends and their partners, the chance to laugh, and drink, and just smile again. It was all worth it.

The group of guys in the ski lift behind obviously had the same idea, hooting and hollering at each other as the ski lift continued its ascent. You couldn’t decipher what they were saying, the words in a different language, but the name ‘Max’ seemed to be a commonality. Maybe someone was missing their dog while on vacation? Who knows.

After hours of skiing, the alcohol in the ski lodge was flowing. The laughter and happiness from every group was prevalent, everyone there was so obviously happy to get away from the real world. It’s what places like that were for.

“That guy over there can’t stop looking at you,” jostled out of your thoughts by one of your friends, you followed her head inclination to one of the tables a few rows down, a familiar face looking back at you inquisitorially.

It took you a second to place his face, the day in the coffee shop floating back to your mind prompting a small laugh to fall from your lips.

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull all over me when I ran into him in the coffee shop in Monaco, remember?”

It had been a running joke, a typical meet-cute in a coffee shop, but instead of spilt coffee... a spilt Red Bull.

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull on you?”

One of your friend’s boyfriends gaped at you, as he continuously maneuvered his look between you and the man in question. Nodding your head, he continued to gape at you.

“Don’t you know who that is?” Giving him a look, you shook your head.

“That’s the Max Verstappen. Three-time Formula 1 World Champion? Dutch God? Second-coming of the Formula 1 Jesus?”

You recognized the name, having heard it at the few races you had attended, but you never would’ve been able to place the name to the face otherwise.

A laugh erupted from one of the other members of the group, a shove directed at the other man. “I think you've got Verstappen mixed up with Lewis Hamilton.”

“He’s kinda cute, huh?” One of the girls pointed out to you, a small giggle falling from her lips as she looked over towards the man in question, his eyes meeting yours as you looked in his direction again.

His hair was flopped over, obviously a combination of a long day wearing a ski helmet and a hat, mixed with the combination of the sweat and heat that engulfed the inside of the lodge made him look even more attractive. Windswept, tipsy, and overall, just happy.

“So much better than that last loser.” A mutual agreement of ‘yes’, ‘obviously’, and ‘fucking no wonder’, floated throughout your group at your friend’s words.

Shrugging them off, you just laughed and pushed the conversation in another direction and away from the man sitting across the room, who seemed as if he couldn’t take his eyes off you at all.

As the night started to dwindle down, you bid goodnight to the remaining group of friends and started your route back to your room.

“At least I have nothing to spill on you tonight.”

Directing your gaze to the voice at hand, your eyes made direct contact with the blue irises of Max Verstappen.

Quirking an eyebrow at him as a small laugh left your lips, “I’m sure the bars fully stocked with drinks you could spill on me. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

A loud guffaw fell from the man’s mouth, his hands instinctively covering his mouth as he laughed. You couldn’t help the heat that grew on your cheeks at his reaction, his smile directed towards you when he finally moved his hands from his face.

“I’m so very sorry. Next time I run into you, I’ll try to make sure I have a full drink in hand to spill on you.”

“Oh, you plan on running into me again?”

Shrugging his shoulders with a small grin, the Dutchman just laughed. “Well, I ran into the person I spilt a Red Bull in a coffee shop on in one of my favourite places in Switzerland, I’m sure I’m bound to run into you again. Things happen in three’s, don’t they?”

Max ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at you, before either of you could get the chance to say anything else, one of his friends was clapping a hand against his shoulder with a boisterous laugh.

“Time to get out of here, mate. Say goodnight to the pretty girl,” he said.

You felt your cheeks heating again, as Max smiled at you in farewell, a small wave from both of you any indication of goodbye as you both walked away.

Time, mystical time Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine Were there clues I didn't see?

F1 race weekends were as fun as they were busy. Any race you had attended since you were an intern was always focused primarily on working. Getting the opportunity to attend a race with your friends, in Melbourne, without having to worry about work or advertising, or anything else, was obviously the best way to spend it.

Lou, one of your friends linked her arm with yours as she basically skipped through the hospitality area, pointing out the different garages as she got a glimpse of them. Her boyfriend, Nick, had gotten both of you passes through his own work, a long-term employee of McLaren meant that the both of you had been spoiled for the weekend.

"Maybe you’ll end up running into Max again, imagine? A third little meet-cute,” she said, with a giggle.

Rolling your eyes at her, you just laughed as she grinned back. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s totally possible, I’m sure Nick could totally convince Lando to convince Max to pass by the garage or the hospitality. We could totally orchestrate it.”

“Babe, it’s pure coincidence I’ve run into the guy more than once. I’m not like... going out of my way to run into Max Verstappen.”

Huffing back at you, Lou sent a mock pout in your direction as she continued to drag you through the hospitality center. Passing a stand full of travel cups of coffee, you were eager to grab one as you walked by.

Before you could even press the lid of the cup to your lips, you were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice, yet again.

“Is it your turn to spill something on me, then? I’m having a pretty bad day, and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Both you and Lou whipped around to the sound of the man’s voice, the man who just a short time ago had been forced to retire his race due to a faulty and on fire brake. You could practically feel Lou humming with excitement as she looked between you and Max.

Shoving her hand out in his direction, Lou introduced herself to Max who did the same back.

“With that, I’m going to see how everything’s going in the garage. Call me if you get lost, yeah?” Without giving you the chance to argue, she bolted away.

Silently groaning, you looked back towards Max. For someone who just retired from a race he was probably going to win, he seemed relatively calm and relaxed.

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?” You questioned back, confused.

“Are you going to spill your coffee on me, in retaliation for the Red Bull?” Instantly shaking your head, obviously the retirement from the race couldn’t have affected him too negatively, if he was already cracking jokes in your direction.

“You don’t even know my name, and you’re accusing me of wanting to go out of my way to kick a man when he’s already down?”

Watching his face fall, you could tell he was about to defend his words. A smile began to cross your face, his eyes jokingly narrowing in your direction.

Sticking your hand out towards him, you finally introduced yourself, your name falling from his lips as if it was a beautiful word from a testament as he took your hand. It would be embarrassing to say a small spark shot up your arm, but the racing driver had inevitably shocked you, an apology dropping from his lips almost immediately.

“Terrible race to stalk me at, though. You couldn’t have at least made it a race that I actually stood a chance at winning? Pretty embarrassing to have to retire for such a stupid reason, in front of such a pretty girl.”

If there was one thing other than racing that Max was good at, it was making your cheeks warm and the butterflies in your stomach spike.

“Well... I am here as a guest of McLaren... maybe I was just really hoping for a Piastri win. Gotta root for the hometown boy, right?”

Shaking his head, Max mockingly pressed his hand to his chest and looked at you like he was internally wounded.

“You’d support McLaren over me? The man who runs into you in the weirdest of places? Who gave you a free Red Bull without a can?” he said.

You could barely help the small snort that fell from your lips at his words, your hand instantly slapping against your lips in horror. Max openly laughed at your reaction, arm gently hitting your shoulder with a grin.

“Just for that, I’ll support Ferrari before I support you and your Red Bull’s. I don’t think Charles Leclerc would spill a Red Bull on me.”

In response, Max grinned and pointed in the direction of the Ferrari garage, the red and yellow prominent amongst the stone. “Shall I go introduce you to Charles, then? He’d probably spill an actual hot coffee on you, at least I didn’t leave any lasting damage.”

“The trauma of smelling like an original Red Bull for more than 2 hours isn’t enough damage?” you questioned, your eyebrows quirking up at him.

Max looked at you in horror, “You can’t possibly be saying you don’t think the smell of an original, cold, fresh out of a fridge, Red Bull isn’t just simply lovely. This is potentially the biggest red flag about you.”

You were quick on your feet, the words dropping from your lips before you could contain them.

“I guess we’re all on fire today, then. Red flags left and right.” you said with a smirk.

All Max did was laugh at your words, his head rolling back while his hands placed themselves on his hips.

Just as he had been the last two times, Max was interrupted before he could continue the conversation, a lady in a Red Bull sweater tapping him on the shoulder to let him know he needed to make his way back to the garage for some interviews that had been requested of him.

“Nice seeing you again, I’m sure next time I see you, you’ll probably heal more of my Red Bull soaked shirt trauma.”

The only response he gave was a loud laugh and a wave, as he walked away.

Time, wondrous time Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

The FIA year-end Gala was exquisite. Everyone was dressed to the nines, the lights were twinking, the service was lovely, and the atmopshere was electric.

Even though, for almost all of the people there, it was a requirement of their jobs, everyone seemed as if they were having a wonderful time. Mingling with those around them, actively engaging in conversation with co-workers, friends, long-time acquaintances.

Your boss had elected that you and a fellow co-worker attend in her place, admitting that although she loved the excitement of the night, she needed a break from the glitz and the glam of Formula 1 for a tiny bit. She knew you were more than willing to take her place and do an incredible job.

Which is exactly how you found yourself at a table with Jack, one of your co-workers, a wide grin on his face as he observed everything going on around him. He was new to the company, just having recently completed his internship and been offered a full-time position with the organization. It was his first time at a Formula 1 event of any kind.

“Isn’t this brilliant? I’m a huge motorsports fan, I wanted to get into karting when I was a kid but it was just too expensive, my parents couldn’t afford that. I’ve never even had the opportunity to go to a race, and now I’m in the same building, the same room as literal race drivers. Have you been to a race before?”

You forgot how much he could yap, an almost over-eager human equivalent of an excited golden retriever. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer to his question.

“I’ve been to a few races for work, and a few privately with some friends. They’re always a great time, you’ll have lots of fun when you start going for work.” you said.

Grinning at your words, you began to tune him out as he launched into another rant. You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of someone saying your name, your head swiveling in the direction of the voice.

You were almost positive Jack was squealing out loud, as Max Verstappen once again entered your view. Smiling up at him, you stood up to greet the Dutchman, which resulted in him pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, his hand gently patting you on the back as he did so.

“I just wanted to come by and say hello. You look very beautiful.”

Unable to contain the anxious laugh that fell from your lips, you immediately smiled at him. Accepting compliments was obviously not your forte, especially when they were coming from Max, who looked more handsome than ever in his suit, and the wide smile on his cheeks pulling everything together.

“Never thought I’d see you in anything other than jeans and a Red Bull shirt, Max. You look lovely, as well.”

“Making fun of me, and a compliment all in one? I will say, I probably would’ve worn jeans if I could, but my public relations manager likely would’ve murdered me and I quite enjoy being alive,” he said.

Shaking your head in silent laughter, you barely even noticed as Jack thrust his hand out to introduce himself to Max.

“Your girlfriend is lovely, mate. This is what, the fourth time I’ve run into you?” Max said in greeting, a somewhat tight smile on his face.

Jack instantly shook his head, “Oh god no, we’re co-workers. I don’t mean she’s not lovely, she is. I’m not her type, or actually she’s not my type. I’m yapping, this is embarrassing. Mr. Verstappen, it was really nice to meet you. I need a drink. I’m sorry.”

He practically sprinted away, both you and Max looked on with amused grins present on your faces.

“So, if he’s not your boyfriend, does that mean one of the guys you were with in Switzerland are?”

Shaking your head, “God, no. Those are friends I’ve known for years. I’m very much single, right now.”

Max looked like he was in complete contemplation as he debated what to say next. You were secretly hoping he would take the bait, maybe ask if you were free after the gala, or ask how long you were going to be in town for.

Running into him again once was by chance, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was obviously a sign. The universe was obviously trying to tell you something, there was a reason this man, who had first shown up in your life just after one of the worst heartbreaks you had ever experienced, continued to show up. It was hard to not get your hopes up, to not get ahead of yourself.

It was hard to keep the butterflies at bay, truthfully.

“Hypothetically, does that mean you’re free after the gala?”

“Hypothetically... I man be free after the gala,” you responded.

Nodding his head, Max smiled in your direction. “I think it would be a crime to let this beautiful dress, and my efforts to wear a suit for something go to waste. I’d love to take you out after.”

And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

Max had been transparent from the beginning; he wasn’t overly affection nor was he a fan of excessive cuddling. He got warm often, and the moment he got too warm when he was in bed, he got miserable. But when he wanted to cuddle? You had to take what he would give you.

Which was exactly how you found yourselves right now, Max playfully attempting to whack your phone out of your hand, his other arm wrapped around your waist as he burrowed his head into your neck.

“Schatje, I just wanna cuddle for a bit. Give me a little attention.”

Slapping gently at his arm, you looked at him in mock exasperation. All you ever did was give him attention, he almost took the words out of your mouth when he muttered, “I know you give me plenty of attention, don’t yell at me.”

You just shook your head silently as you used your free hand to gently twirl small tuffs of his hair, a small hum of content falling from his lips at your movements.

“What are you looking at?”

Attempting to look over at your phone, you moved the screen so he could see it better. It was a video from your first ever Formula 1 race, back when you were still a little intern and your boss had wanted you to gain some exposure to the sport.

“I’m just looking back at some videos. Found this one from my first ever race. I didn’t even know I still had this.”

Max instantly perked up and looked at your phone, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher something in the video.

“Do you remember which race it was? Looks like it’s a few years old, yeah?”

Nodding your head, you tried to do the math in your head, thinking back to what year you first started your internship. “I think it was 2016? It was definitely in Spain, but I’m pretty positive it was 2016.”

“Do you know what that means?” Max questioned, a soft smile on his lips as he pressed a small kiss to the junction between your chin and throat before looking back up at you.

Shaking your head in confusion, you tried to determine what he could be talking about, giving him the chance to continue.

“My first ever win in Formula 1, for Red Bull, was the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix. Isn’t that so ironic? Guess things were always meant to be.”

Maybe he was right.

Maybe there was always a string, a small, invisible string, tying everything together, tying you to him.

genuinely i got this into my mind and felt like i was legally obligated to write it asap. i hope you LOVE it and i would so appreciate it if you told me if you do. thank you, love you all 🫶🏻

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #max verstappen one shot #writing #f1 #f1 x you #max verstappen imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 writing #max verstappen writing

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

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tell me where it hurts | e. jaeger

soft sex, implications of depression, nursing student!eren, black fem reader, (reader is a nursing instructor) squirting, lots of consent, thigh + regular riding, praise kink, sweet aftercare + affirmations, sweet fluff

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .* * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .* * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆

he could tell you were in a sour mood, another bad day had come and gone…honestly, you were having them more frequently than not. Coming home after work, discarding your shoes and coat with barely a word uttered. Your dinner he had prepared sat cold on the counter, wrapped up and untouched. Eren didn’t hold it against you, he never did..it wasn’t your fault after all. Sometimes you got in your own head and couldn’t escape the nasty thoughts that plagued it. “How was work?” “Fine..” one word responses uttered softly from your lips. They’d quiver each time you spoke, complimented only by the tears brimming at your waterline each time he asked if you were okay. He didn’t want to fight with you or push the issue…he just wanted to take your pain away.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” A question he’d normally assume the answer to but he wanted to tread carefully. As to not make you even more uncomfortable. Instead, once you gave him permission, he’d swaddle you in the tightest embrace he could muster. One that felt akin to a warm blanket as your entangled bodies met. He could feel the tension in your body and he wanted more than anything to ease it. His strong hands that once sat idle before roaming up and down your back. He complimented your scent; that lovely perfume you had worn. It was intoxicating in the best way possible..he didn’t want to let you go..instead, he wanted to take your pain away. “C’mere. It’s alright..” coaxing you towards him as he gently tugged you by your hands onto the couch. Where once he took a seat, he’d pull you atop him shortly after. Still half dressed in your work outfit; consisting of the skirt and blouse you had worn..he’d tell you how beautiful you looked going out the door today and how he couldn’t wait for your return. You didn’t have to talk about that job until you were ready. Hell, the two of you could sit here in silence if that’s what you preferred. Whatever made you the happiest. With your legs slightly ajar, your skirt hoisted just above your thighs, you’d take a seat on his right leg..just inches away from his lap. Eren was kind, empathetic..he was soft with you. A lot more gentle than he was with others sometimes. Treating you so well, in more ways than one..

“Is it okay if I kiss you, princess? Do you mind?” You’d give him a faint nod but he wouldn’t move without your explicit consent. Not even for a single kiss..respecting you and your body took precedence over everything, even pleasure right now. He could easily sense your tension but you’d ultimately grasp his face..nimble fingers tracing his jawline until you softly whimpered: “..please, kiss me.” To which he’d obliged. Shoving your tongue into one another’s mouths before slowly exchanging slow, messy pecks. The sounds growing louder as you hummed against each other’s lips. It was whilst you were doing so, did the thin seat of your panties rub against his legs. Grinding the bare flesh of his thighs. Just above his gym shorts. You were becoming worked up and aroused..all of your own volition. He wouldn’t make a move other than lightly grasping your hips. Whatever you needed at the moment, he’d make it happen. Slowly but surely, you’d work yourself into a frenzy, whimpering into his ear..that’s when he’d noticed those gentle cries as well.

“Whats wrong, baby?…”

“I-I just..”

you couldn’t even get the words out. You were extremely overwhelmed and exhausted..with everything! School, work, friends, family…it was all a little suffocating. You just wanted to rot away into the core of the earth..not deal with anything anymore. But he was your safe haven. Your sanctuary and peace so you had nothing to fear.

“It’s alright. Take your time..tell me where it hurts. I’ll make you feel better.” A slight lilt and chuckle in his voice, before pecking your ear. And it was then that you’d begin to straddle him a little faster, whining with high pitched cries. Your arms coiled around his neck whilst you slowly raised and lowered yourself onto his bottom half. The friction causing you to clench your legs around his own and then release. That sheathed entrance spasming on air and begging for attention. Meanwhile, your right hand gently caressed his clothed cock, that had grown exponentially from the subtle teasing. Quiet as it was kept, your boyfriend felt a slight bit of shame..getting turned on when you were in such a vulnerable state.

“I need you, ‘Ren..”

but that was all the confirmation he needed! It was then that he’d hook a single finger around the thin string of your panties. Tilting his head up, Eren would ask once more, smirking. “Of course, princess. Can I pull these back? Is it okay?” Chewing at the tip of your finger, you’d gently nod and agree. For a split moment, you’d even tense up and he’d check in on you before proceeding. The pacing was a lot more slow than usual..but there was a reason for it. He wanted..no, needed to take his time. He needed to make certain you were better than just alright once he finished. However, by the look of your thong..he knew what needed to be done.

“You want to ride me, baby? Is that it?” “Y-yes! Please..”

all but pleading to climb atop his dick. “Of course, beautiful. Here.” So without a moment more of hesitation, you’d hoist your skirt and propel your bottom half to align with his member. Easing down gently, you’d acclimate to his shape almost immediately and the both of you would release loud gasps. The sensation nearly caused you to come undone on the spot but alas, you held it together… “…you feel so warm, baby..are you okay? Wanna start moving?” His gentle tone and soft touch eased any amount of tension and hurt within your body. Your spirit felt at ease and you were good to begin moving. Slowly but surely, you’d propel yourself up and down on his dick..squeezing and contracting each time it made home between your flesh. Taking him as if the two of you were specifically designed for one another. “You’re doing so good right now..that’s it. You just take all the time you need, beautiful. I’m yours to use..do what you want.” Tossing his head back, Eren’s lips would curl into a smile as you continued to writhe on top of him and impale yourself on his cock. It was a bit much to take but you wanted—no, needed to feel him. Feel anything except the overwhelming emotions that had long clouded your judgment. If anyone could take away that pain, it was him.

“ ‘Ren…I—oh fuck..”

“Just breathe, mama. It’s alright..”

as long as it took, this is where the two of you would remain. “Just keep going, baby. You’re so pretty like this.” Him nestled deep inside of you, squeezed by your warmth and embraced for everything he had to offer. “Oh..you like that don’t you? You squeeze me every time I tell you how beautiful you are..” only to be met with a giggle as your arms remained clasped around your neck. “Yeah, I know. And I’ll remind you every chance I get. That’s why I’m here.” Eventually, his hands found their way on the cusp of your ass, holding you into place as he momentarily thrusted up into you. Feeding you slow yet deep strokes. “This is what you needed, I know. What you deserve after a long week. I’m sorry it took so long to give it to you, baby” Hearing you cry out for more in the process..he’d continue doting on you. Telling you how much he loved you, what he adored about his princess and how proud he was to call you his. By the time he was done, you had all but fallen apart in his clutch..just biding your time until you could climax. That tension in your body teeming right there at the edge. “You wanna let go, princess? Wanna come already?” Mhmm! Please!” That high pitched cry causing a slight twitch of his cock between your walls. Naturally, he’d give you whatever your heart desired. So when you requested, Eren gave his full fledged permission to release and you didn’t disappoint!

“There it is…good girl.”

like clockwork, you let out a splash underneath your nude lower halves; drenching him in that sweet release. It was the greatest feeling in the world. There was no need to be embarrassed or shed tears of sorrow anymore. Your man was right there to help you pick up the pieces. Smashing your lips together, (y/n) expressed your gratitude with a barrage of kisses. “I love you..” “I love you more, princess. Do you feel better?” And without even thinking, you’d give him the response he was seeking with a simple nod. “That’s all I wanna hear..hey, why don’t we get cleaned up and order some food? We can get your favorite and watch some movies.” Which sounded like a stellar plan in your opinions. “I’d like that..”

so as long as you entrusted yourself to him, you’d never feel unease, pain or heartbreak ever again.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

In From The Rain

Oscar Piastri x plant nerd!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution. Check out the moodboard here!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: none

The greenhouse is quiet in the early morning. It’s one of your favorite things. Before the customers come in, looking for flowers for their porch or vegetable plants for their gardens, it’s just you and the plants and the sun streaming in through the glass. So when somebody interrupts your morning solitude, you’re not exactly happy about it.

Sure, you’re technically open, but nobody ever gets here this early. You’re watering plants in your rain boots, a mug of coffee in your hand, when the front door swings open. You turn to look, the noise startling you.

The man who walks in looks sheepish when his eyes meet yours. He ducks under a hanging basket, nearly trips over your garden hose. His cheeks flush red. You’d be more irritated with his presence if he wasn’t being so cute about it.

“Sorry, the- the sign said open,” he says, backing towards the door.

“You’re fine. We are open,” you affirm, flicking off the sprayer before you drown the petunias in front of you. “I was just surprised to see someone in here so early.”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound. Almost as nice a sound as his voice, with an Australian accent. He stops backing away. You should probably point out that he’s standing in a puddle, but you’re not sure if that’s really your place.

“Can I help you find something?” You ask.

He takes a step forward. A thick band of sunlight shines down on the top of his head, like a halo. He brushes his floppy hair from his face.

“No, that’s okay. You’re busy, I’ll just have a look around,” he says.

You nod. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

You turn back to the flower trays in front of you. They’ll need pruning, soon. And some of the hanging baskets are getting a bit unruly- it’ll likely be time to put them on sale in the next few days, to open up space for new plants. You can hear the man walking around behind you, peering at the plants. His footsteps are hesitant, and when you look, he has his hands held behind his back. He leans close to read the signs, brows tightly wound.

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking for.

You put the hose away and set your nearly empty coffee down at your workstation in the back of the greenhouse. Then you make your way back up to the front, where he’s standing near the succulents.

“Sure you don’t want help?” You ask.

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Is it that obvious that I’ve got no idea what I’m doing?”

“A bit,” you say, and he laughs again. “That’s okay, though. It’s what I’m here for. What are you looking for?”

He stands up straight, eyes dancing over the greenhouse. “So. I’ve been told my apartment is boring. A friend suggested a plant to liven up the space.”

You nod. A tale as old as time. He’ll either kill the plant within a week or fill his whole place with them.

“But I’m gone a lot for work,” he says. “Like, a lot. So I need something that won’t wilt the second I’m gone, you know?”

You nod. “Does your apartment get good light?”

He laughs. “I don’t know what good light means.”

“Which direction do your windows face?”

“South,” he says, confidently. “Google said that was good. Right?”

You fight a laugh. He’s a bit adorable. Trying very hard to get it right. Like this is a test with right and wrong answers.

“Yeah, south facing is great.” You gesture towards the succulents. “You could get a succulent. They can go weeks without watering, but they need lots of light.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “I thought these were cactuses. Or cacti?”

“Close,” you tell him, and he smiles again. “Cacti are the ones with the spikes.”

He nods in understanding. He crouches down, then, eye levels with the little plants. Your heart is melting. You scuff one of your rain boots against the ground. You could stand here and watch the way his long eyelashes flutter as he blinks all day, but that would be creepy and you have a job you’re supposed to be doing.

“How do I know which one to get?” He says, quietly. “Like… there are so many different kinds.”

Your face breaks out into a huge grin. He’s so endearing. “I think you’ll know when you see it.”

He appears at the front cash register ten minutes later, a succulent in hand. It’s a little one, the perfect starter plant. He’s eyeing the decorative pots next to you, brows furrowed again.

“Those are too big for that plant,” you tell him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There are smaller ones on the other side of the display.”

He moves to look. You hear him shuffling, hear him pick up pots and then set them down. Then he appears again, a little pot with black and white checkerboard print on it in his other hand.

“Perfect,” you say softly. “Have you got potting soil?”

He clears his throat. “Um. No, but I’ve got a courtyard at my apartment with a garden… but I’m sensing from the look on your face that that won’t do.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Then you reach under the counter and grab one of the small sample bags of potting soil you keep on hand.

“Here. On the house.” You say. “So you can put that plant in the pot.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he says. He sets the other items down on the counter. “Thanks for all your help, actually.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

You bag the items carefully, making sure the plant won’t be squished. You put a care instruction sheet in the bag, too. Then you slide it to him with a smile.

“There’s a care sheet in there that should help. Enjoy your new plant,” you say. “I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” he says.

He leaves, then, and you’re left with your quiet greenhouse once again. It’s odd. Usually you breathe a sigh of relief after a customer leaves. But this time, you almost want him to come back.

…..

Two weeks later, you’re back at your workstation re-potting a sad looking philodendron. You look up from it when you hear the bell over the front door ring. The watering is already done, the hose put away, so there’s nothing for the man to trip over this time. But it is the same guy, and he ducks under the hanging basket the same way. You should maybe move it, but he seems to be the only one who’s had an issue with it. You stand up, wiping the dirt from your hands on your apron.

“You didn’t kill that succulent already, did you?” You call out.

His eyes dart to meet yours, and he laughs. “No! Promise.”

“Good. That would be a new record,” you laugh.

You let him wander the store on his own for a few minutes as you get the philodendron correctly in the new pot. Then you give it some water and take it with you to set it back out on the shelf. He’s still the only other person in the store, and he’s currently eyeing the flats of flowering plants.

“It’s actually going really well,” he says as you walk by. “He has a new leaf.”

That’s when you know the guy is hooked. He has a new leaf. The plant is no longer just a plant to him. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if he’s the type to name his plants. You set the one in your hands down on the table in front of you, your back to him so he doesn’t see your wide grin. When you turn around, you tone it down.

“That’s great,” you say encouragingly. “So I’m guessing you want another one?”

He nods, rubbing his finger over the leaf of a fiddle leaf fig. “Yeah, but I’m thinking something different this time. Something bigger.”

“You don’t want that one,” you say, and he backs away from the fig tree slightly. “Fiddle leafs are notoriously dramatic. If you left her for a week she’d drop all her leaves.”

He sighs and stands up. “What would you suggest?”

You wave him over to another area of the store. He follows eagerly, footsteps splashing in the leftover puddles from the morning watering. You lead him to a section of spiky, tall plants.

“Snake plant,” you say, pointing at them.

He’s standing next to you, and your shoulders just barely brush. A shiver runs down your spine. You try to hide it.

“Snake plant,” he repeats. “The name makes sense.”

“People also call them mother in law’s tongue,” you add. You fight the urge to check his ring finger. “But if you’ve got a mother in law I’d suggest avoiding that name.”

He laughs, and his shoulder bumps into your again. “I don’t. But snake plant sounds cooler.”

You nod in agreement. “They do well with very little water. And, they can do okay in pretty low light, too. So if you’ve got a darker area that needs a plant, it would be a good fit.”

He’s up at the register ten minutes later, plant and a pot in hand. This one is plain terracotta. You like that he’s the type of person to buy the pots, too. Some people just leave them in the boring plastic, and it makes you sad to think about. All plants deserve a nice home. You say that to him as you ring him up, and he laughs. He’s also grabbed a small bag of potting soil this time.

Your repeat the process, same as last time, and hand him the bag. He takes it, and then he hesitates.

“Thanks again,” he says, juggling the bag until it’s held in one arm. He sticks his hand out to you. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

You tell him your name, though you’re sure he could read it off your nametag, too. When you shake his hand, you swear the warmth of it runs all the way up your arm. He thanks you again, and then he disappears out the door once again. That ache is back in your chest. You find yourself hoping he’ll be back soon.

…..

He does come back. Multiple times. He buys more succulents on one trip, asking you to help him choose between them, and then he ends up buying all three instead. Another morning he comes in and you show him a ZZ plant you’ve just gotten in that you think will be perfect for him- you don’t tell him you’ve been saving it for him at your work station. It’s just… you know it’ll look great next to the snake plant he bought.

Each time he comes to the store, he hangs around a little longer. You chat about the weather, about the plants in the store, about his plants at home. You tell him funny stories about other customers and complain to him about the rude ones. In return, he tells you about his coworkers, specifically one named Lando who he seems to get into a lot of mischief with. He hasn’t said what he does for work. You field weird about asking, so you don’t.

The 4th time he stops by, you suggest a pothos. He eyed the leaves and vines skeptically.

“The other ones looked tough, you know? Like they’d survive even if I fucked up.” He tugs at one of the vines. “Are you sure about this one?”

You nod encouragingly. “You can handle it. I promise. Plus, the cool thing about these is you can cut parts of the vines, like this,” you say, holding up one you’d taken from the workstation. “And then you stick it in water for a bit, it grows roots, and you’ve got a whole new plant.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“I know,” you laugh.

He joins you up at the front to buy the plant. You go through the same routine. This time, he’s picked out a pretty blue ceramic pot for it. It compliments the leaves well. Then he leans on the counter and the two of you start chatting. You’d had a shipment that came in last week with a bunch of dead plants, so you regale him with the story of trying to deal with the company’s customer service. In turn, he tells you a story about his family back home- one of his sisters had a dance recital, his mother tried to videotape it for him, he received a video of his mother’s face as she watched the recital. You don’t realize how long the two of you have been talking until Jane, the next person on the schedule, walks in.

You stand up straight, face growing hot suddenly. “Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, hun,” she says, walking past the two of you. “Sorry I’m late. Bet you’re dying for your lunch break.”

She’s late? You and Oscar must’ve been talking for… forever. It had felt like only minutes. He smiles sheepishly and pushes away from the counter.

“Well, I should be going,” he says, taking the bag in his arms. “Thanks again!”

You watch him walk out the front door, unsure why it feels like you’ve been caught. It reminds you of the feeling you’d gotten years ago, when your teacher found you and the boy you had a crush on in the hallway alone. You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but it still makes you feel strange.

“Friend of yours?” Jane asks when you walk past her to take your break.

You blink, shrugging. “I think he might be.”

…..

Oscar always comes in on Tuesdays. You avoid taking Tuesdays off and won’t admit to yourself that he’s the reason why. But when you wake up with a raging fever and a pounding head, you know you have to call in. Jane, always a sweetheart, takes your shift. When you see her two days later, it’s after you’ve already done the opening shift.

“Did you see your plant?” She asks as she breezes through the greenhouse.

You shut off the hose you’d been using to water a particularly thirsty chrysanthemum. “What plant?”

“The one your friend brought,” she says, and you only feel more confused. “He dropped it off Tuesday, said he was looking for you. It’s on the desk.”

You walk over to the workstation. Sure enough, in a tiny plastic pot- likely one from one of the succulents he’d bought-there’s a small pothos vine growing. You pick up the little plant, knocking over the piece of paper propped up on it in the process. You reach for it, finding a note written in rushed, messy scrawl.

I know you’ve probably got tons, but it felt right that you would have my very first propagation. Learned that word from the internet. Feel better soon! -Oscar

You turn to look at Jane. She’s at the register, not paying you any attention. You cradle the tiny plant close to your chest and do the same with the note. Then you tuck the paper away for safekeeping.

The plant, however, you carry with you all day. You place it in a sunbeam at the front register. When it catches your eye every so often, you feel a warmth in your chest.

…..

The next time Oscar comes in, he eyes the little plant at the register. You’ve stuck a little stake in it and tied a bow on top. He smiles softly and turns back to the display of pots. He chooses a tiny one with checkerboard print, the same as his very first purchase. You ring him up for all his items, but when you go to put that one in the bag, he grabs it and shakes his head. He slides it towards your tiny vine.

“For your plant,” he says, smiling softly.

You break into a face splitting grin. “You’re too sweet.”

His fingers brush against yours when you take it from him. You swear you feel sparks. You wonder if the red cheeks he sports as he leaves the store means he felt it, too.

…..

Another man comes into the shop early in the morning. It’s a Wednesday this time. You know it won’t be Oscar because of that, but you still look up eagerly. The guy nods, waving politely. You smile and go back to your watering. He walks the aisles, looking at the plants and never picking them up.

“Excuse me?” He says, after you’ve put the hose away. You turn, trying to hide your surprise at his American accent. “Um. Could you tell me where the succulents are?”

You grin and nod, walking over towards the area. You point them out.

“These right here,” you say. “Anything I can help you with?”

He stares at the tiny plants. “I have no idea what I’m doing. My friend, he’s gotten really into plants, and he talks about this shop all the time. Figured I’d see what the hype was all about.”

You tilt your head. He’s probably not, but it almost sounds like he’s talking about Oscar. You try and shake the idea from your head. Oscar is just a customer, he’s not going around and telling his friends about the greenhouse he goes to. He’s definitely not telling them about you.

“Succulents are a good place to start,” you say.

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a green thumb. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.” You say with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

He ends up picking out a little succulent. He doesn’t go for a decorative pot. He seems wholly unconfident in his ability to keep it alive for more than a few days. Still, he smiles as he’s leaving. He pauses in the doorway.

“You know, I thought Oscar was exaggerating when he told me about you,” he says. “But I get it now.”

He’s out the door before you can even form a syllable, let alone a word or a sentence. You think about chasing after him and asking what the hell that even means, but you stay rooted there. Oscar talks about you. To his friends. You swear your heartbeat doesn’t slow all morning, and the heat in your cheeks stays there all day.

…..

Oscar comes rushing into the shop the next Tuesday. He has a brown paper bag in his arms, and his eyes are wide. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. You stand up, setting the garden hose down. He nearly slips on a puddle as he rushes over to you, and you reach out to steady him.

“I just got home last night,” he rushes, “and something’s wrong with- with Greg.”

“Greg?” You ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

“My succulent,” he says. His cheeks have gone red. “I name my plants. Is that weird?”

You laugh. “No, it’s not.”

You don’t tell him you’ve named your tiny pothos vine after him. You take the bag from his arms and walk to the back of the store, towards the work station. You reach in and pull out the succulent. It’s a little withered, a bit droopy. It’s also doubled in size since he bought it.

“I’ve been watering him when the soil gets dry,” he says, “and he’s still getting sunlight. I’ve tried everything- I left music playing for them when I left, so-“

Your eyes flicker up to him. He plays music for his plants. He’s the cutest man you’ve ever met. You want to take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. Or his lips. He has these cute little freckles and moles- you’d like to draw constellations between them. Your face feels hot again. You direct your attention back to the plant as he rambles on. You frown, tugging slightly to see the roots.

“Osc, babe,” you interrupt, and he stops and stares at you. “He’s just a little root bound.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve just called him babe. It’s too late now.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, the panicky tone still in his voice.

“It means,” you start, nudging his side softly with your elbow, “that you’ve taken such good care of him that he’s outgrown this pot. He needs more soil. More room to spread out.”

His shoulders drop. The panic melts off his face. “Oh.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t believe when you came in here the first time you had no idea what a succulent even was. And now here you are, all panicked over a little wilting. You’ve become a true plant nerd, haven’t you?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“It’s cute,” you tell him, just to watch the blush creep up on his cheeks again. “Come on, let’s get him a new pot and some fresh soil.”

You lead him up to the front. He starts to pick through the display, holding the succulent up to the different options until he finds the right one. It’s a light orange.

You nod in approval. “Now you’ve got an empty pot,” you say, pointing at the original pot for the succulent. “Which means if you want, you have an excuse to buy another plant.”

“You’re so smart,” he says, eyes wide.

He rushes over to the display of succulents. While he’s picking one out, you carefully re-pot the plant into its new home. He takes his time, like always, indecisive to the very end. When he makes it up to the counter, he grins widely at the sight of the plant in its new pot.

“Thanks,” he says, softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

…..

When Oscar comes into the shop on a particularly rainy Tuesday, you’re trying hastily to hide your tears. He doesn’t come in every week, but it’s just your luck that he’s here today of all days. You wave and turn your back to him, sticking to the workstation. You hear the soft fall of his tennis shoes, though, even over the sound of the rain against the greenhouse roof, and you know he’s making his way towards you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, voice low.

You turn and find him with his hands in his jeans pockets. You wipe at your cheeks hastily, hoping he can’t tell how upset you are, but knowing you look a wreck. Your hair is soaked in rainwater, and your eyes likely red rimmed and puffy. It’s confirmed when his soft smile drops into a frown.

“I’ve had a shit morning,” you tell him with a sigh.

He pulls one hand from his pocket. “You, uh. You have dirt on your cheek.”

You groan and try to brush it away. Oscar chews on his lower lip. Then he reaches out, his fingertips sweeping against the skin of your face. His hand is warm, despite the chill in the air. Tiny sparks seem to spread across your skin, following the trail of his touch. Your face grows hot.

“There,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

He nods. “What’s going on? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but…”

You sigh and turn away slightly, back to the plant in the pot in front of you. His gaze is so warm that you can’t stand to look at him, afraid you might start crying all over again.

“Just. Woke up late, so I was in a rush. And then I locked my car key in the car because I forgot something in the flat, and my mum has the spare key and she’s not even awake yet, so I had to walk here in the rain. And I couldn’t find my umbrella.” You brush a wet piece of hair away from your forehead. “And I slept like shit, and haven’t had any caffeine because I was late. So, yeah.”

“Shit morning,” Oscar agrees.

You nod. You finally turn to look at him again. There’s a soft look on his face, one you can’t quite place. He reaches out, places his hand flat on the counter next to yours. If you shifted your thumb just slightly, you could touch his. You want to, but you don’t.

“Sorry, I- Can I help you find anything?” You ask, blinking at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I asked,” he says. He rocks back on his heels and pulls his hand back. “I actually just remembered, I’m- I have to- I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and walks quickly to the front of the store. The bell dings as he walks out through the front door. You stare at the spot where his hand had been for just a moment and feel your heart shatter in your chest. You’d gone and over shared with your favorite customer, the one you thought might actually be your friend, and now you’ve scared him off. Yet another tally to add to the shit morning. You collapse into the chair behind the counter and rest your head in your hands, trying to will the tears away.

You’re not sure how long goes by before you hear the bell over the door again. And really, nobody comes in this early, so why are they choosing today of all days? You hastily wipe your face on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and stand up, plastering a smile onto your lips to greet whoever is in the store.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s… Oscar. He’s walking towards you, though he’s not looking at you. He has three takeout coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands. His hair matches yours now, soaking wet and hanging over his forehead. You burst into laughter as he sets them down.

“Oh my god, I thought I scared you off,” you say, brushing a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“No,” he says, eyes wide. “You said you needed caffeine. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”

You laugh and press your hands to the counter, leaning towards the cups. “Three cups?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I got you coffee, but I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar. So,” he points at the smallest of the three cups, “this is cream,” he says while digging in his pockets. Then he places an assortment of sugar packets on the counter. “And here’s sugar. The other cup is mine.”

You grin at him, shaking your head. “I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason.”

The smile he gives you in return is bright enough to make up for the lack of sun, to wash away the rain clouds, to warm your cold hands. You open the lid to the coffee and pour a bit of cream in, and then add two sugars. Oscar watches, nodding.

“I’ll know for next time,” he says.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Next time. You like the sound of that. You wrap your hands around the paper cup and let the warmth seep into your fingers before you take a sip. You sigh happily, meeting his eyes over the lid. The cup in his hand has something written on it in messy pen. You wonder if the barista tried to give him their number, and you fight back the jealous feeling at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

“It’s no biggie,” he insists. “I owed you anyway, for saving Greg.”

He hangs out for a while that morning, leaning on your counter and chatting. You re-pot some plants and then bring them out to the displays, and he follows along. There’s something about his presence alone that warms you up from the inside out. By the time he looks at his watch and curses, muttering about having a meeting, you’re feeling much better. His hand brushes your shoulder before he leaves. You call after him to thank him again for the coffee.

He stops in the doorway, rain falling on his arm that’s extended to hold the door open. “I’ll see you soon!”

Then he disappears into the storm.

…..

You don’t see him soon. It’s not abnormal for Oscar to go a couple weeks without stopping in, so at first you don’t think much of it. Each Tuesday, though, you look up eagerly when the bell over the door rings, and your heart sinks when it’s not him. Maybe you really did over share, maybe he did get scared off. You try not to think about it.

It’s just… he was cute, and kind, and fun to talk to. He brought you coffee. You wonder how his plants are doing, if he’s still playing music for them while he’s gone. You have fleeting images in your brain of him watering the plants, taking the time to look for new leaves and check the roots. You almost wish he’d have another plant emergency, just to give him a reason to stop back in.

Eventually, after a month goes by and he hasn’t been back, you give up almost entirely. You’ll move on eventually, find a new favorite customer. You couldn’t have expected him to keep coming around forever, after all. To him, you were just another retail worker.

You do end up seeing his American friend one more time. He comes in on a Wednesday morning, just like before. He doesn’t stop and look at any of the plants, instead beelining for you. You’re working on bagging some potting soil and watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I just-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I super killed that succulent.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re Oscar’s friend, right? He didn’t help you?”

The guy shakes his head. “He made fun of me, though. Said I overwatered it.”

“How is he, anyways?” You ask.

Logan frowns. “He’s good.”

You nod. “Well, d’you want to try again?”

“No, that’s not why I-“ he sighs, rubbing his temples. “He won’t shut up about you, you know.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Find that hard to believe, since he hasn’t been here for almost a month.”

Which is maybe a little mean spirited. And probably not something you should be saying to his friend. You wince.

Now it’s his turn to blink wildly. “So you miss him too?”

You squint at him. “Why are we having this conversation? I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Logan,” he says. “You haven’t like… reached out to him or anything?”

“How would I?” You ask. “I don’t even know his last name, let alone his phone number.”

“His last name’s Piastri.”

“That feels like information you shouldn’t be giving away to strangers.”

He’s not listening, though. Something seems to have clicked in his head. His eyes go wide and he starts to back away.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thanks!”

You’ve had a lot of strange interactions while working retail, but that one comes in pretty high on the list. And it leaves you wondering about Oscar, which is something you’re trying desperately not to do. All in all, not a great day.

…..

Two weeks later, you clock out of your Tuesday shift around lunchtime and head down the street. It’s raining again, but at least this time you’re armed with a raincoat and an umbrella. Your car is parked nearby, but you’re in the mood for coffee and warm food, so you head to the cafe nearby. You try not to think about the time Oscar had brought you coffee from there. You can’t help picturing his soft smile, eyes trained on the cups balanced precariously in his hands.

You make it halfway to the cafe before a gust of wind hits your umbrella at just the right angle and snaps the metal supports. Then, as if the universe is playing a cruel trick on you, a car speeds by on the road next to you, hits a puddle, and sprays you with muddy water. It soaks through your clothes and onto your skin nearly immediately. You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists and yell dramatically at the sky.

“Shit,” someone says, and the sound of his voice makes your breath catch in your chest. Then he says your name.

You turn, coming face to face with Oscar. Well. Okay. He’s studying you with a pained look on his face and standing under an umbrella.

“Yeah, shit,” you mutter, shaking water from your hands. “Oh my God. Hi, by the way. It’s been a bit.”

“It has,” he agrees, shuffling closer to hold the umbrella over you. “Here. Um. You okay?”

You shrug. “S’just water. I won’t melt.”

Oscar laughs- god, you’ve missed that sound- and nudges your shoulder. “You’ve got bad luck with rainstorms, huh?”

You nod. You’re trying not to freak out at the fact that he’s here. Oscar is standing next to you, holding his umbrella over your head. He’s here and he’s talking to you and he’s feeling sympathetic, which maybe means he doesn’t think you’re completely crazy.

“S’what I get for trying to go get coffee,” you say over the sound of raindrops on the umbrella. “And lunch. Now I’ve got to drive home like this.”

Oscar frowns, his whole face crumpling with it. “Hey, you know… I live just a block down. If you want, you could come and change into some dry clothes.”

Your mother would kill you for even considering it. You can practically hear her yelling in your head. But god, it’s Oscar. It’s Oscar and you haven’t seen him in a month and you might never see him again. There’s something about the soft look on his face that makes you trust him.

“Okay,” you say, quietly. “That would be… really nice. But only if you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he says.

Your shoulders brush as you walk, the umbrella over both of your heads. The two of you are nearly silent on the walk there. It’s like neither of you quite know what to say. You know you don’t. You worry he’s regretting inviting you to his place. But he lets you in the front door, leads you to the elevator, and all the way up to flat. When he opens the door, warm air pours over you like a river. You step in and toe off your boots, wincing at the squish of your wet socks.

Oscar winces, too. “Here, the bathroom’s right there,” he says, pointing at a partially open door. “I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. There’s towels in there too.”

You nod and step into the room. So far, the little bit of his apartment that you’ve seen matches up with what he’s told you. There are no shoes sitting out in the entryway. The bathroom is nearly spotless, which makes you feel a bit guilty about the dirty rainwater you’re dripping onto the floor. Oscar’s only gone long enough for you to take off your jacket.

He knocks on the door. “I’ve got clothes for you.”

You open the door, and he’s standing there, eyes squeezed shut. The clothes are held out in midair, like he’s trying to keep his distance. You laugh and take them, murmuring out a thanks. As you go to change, you hear him walk away.

You shuck your wet clothes off and drop them in the tub, shivering when the air hits your bare skin. You wipe the rainwater from your skin. Then you pull on the clothes he gave you- a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Plus a pair of thick, warm looking socks. All of them are baggy on you, but luckily the pants have a drawstring so you can pull them tight around your hips. You wring the water out of your hair with the towel and then wrap it around your shoulders before you step out into the hallway.

You can hear him moving around in the next room, so you head there. He’s standing at the kitchen island, which is open to the living room. He looks up when he hears you walk in, and a soft smile spreads across his face. His living room is neat and tidy, too. His plants are all lined up on the windowsill. You recognize them all from your store, and you smile.

“D’you have a plastic bag I can put my clothes in?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you. “I don’t wanna get more rainwater on your floor. Or in my car, really.”

“I mean, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Or… you could throw them in the washer. Hang out for a bit.”

He’s not looking at you anymore. You’re glad, because you’re sure you have a dumbfounded look on your face. It’s then that you notice the coffee machine running on the counter behind him, and the snacks out on the counter. Your mind is racing. He hasn’t stopped by the shop in nearly a month, but now…

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you say, unsure what else there is to possibly say.

He shakes his head, still not looking up. “You’re not.”

You cast your eyes to the window. It’s raining harder now. And god, you’ve missed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing here.

“It’s been a while,” he says, turning his back to you when the coffee maker beeps. “We have some catching up to do.”

You think about letting it go. Maybe it’s enough to be here. Maybe you just shouldn’t bring it up. But really, you’re confused about the fact that he stopped coming to the store.

You tilt your head at him. “Yeah, you stopped coming in.”

“Well, you never texted me,” he says. “So I figured I’d freaked you out or something. But then Logan said he stopped by and you asked about me-“

You stare at the back of his head, bewildered, and you break in. “Oscar, I don’t have your number.”

He freezes, hand in midair, reaching for a coffee mug. He turns his head over his shoulder, and his eyes meet your again. He looks just as confused as you feel. Suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

“I wrote it on the coffee cup,” he says, voice quiet.

You stare at him, wide eyed. “There was nothing on my coffee cup.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “I’m sure of it. But there was writing on yours. I know because I wondered if the barista was trying to give you her number.”

Oscar just stares at you for a moment, his lips barely parted. “Shit. I gave you the wrong cup.”

Shit, you repeat in your head. He tried to give you his number. He thought he gave you his number, and then you never texted him. He thought you rejected him. No wonder he stopped coming in.

“You could’ve just asked me for my number, you know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but this was cuter,” he says. “It was- it was my number and this cheesy ass pickup line that Logan helped me think of and I- I really thought you just didn’t…”

“Pickup line?”

“Looking back it sounds stupid,” he admits. “But yeah. I was trying to ask you out on a date. And so when you didn’t text me…”

You cross the room, walking right up in front of him. His hands have fallen to his sides. His eyes trace your face as you smile up at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, brows slightly furrowed. You can smell the coffee now- it reminds you of when he brought you the coffee weeks ago.

“You should ask me now,” you tell him, smiling brightly.

He nods. “Without the pickup line, though.”

You pout up at him. He grins. One of his hands comes up to the side of your face, fingers cupping your jaw. His thumb prods at your cheek.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks, voice low.

You pretend to think about it. Pretend it doesn’t make your heart melt just to hear him say it. “Hm. When?”

He shrugs, looks around. “How about now?”

“It’s raining,” you remind him.

“We can have a stay at home date,” he suggests. “Coffee, lunch, a movie, maybe.”

You tilt your head. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” He says, sounding a bit like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since the day we met.”

Oscar laughs and leans closer. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, then.”

He presses his lips to yours, and your eyes slip closed. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear- it’s still wet from the rain, and both of you giggle into the kiss. His hands drop to your hips, shoving the sweatshirt out of the way to hold onto you. You could kiss him for hours, you think. It’s all you’ve wanted for months now.

The coffee is growing cold on the counter. Suddenly, though, you don’t need caffeine.

He pulls away slightly, looks you up and down. “You look cute in my clothes, you know.”

You giggle and tug on the sweatshirt, pointing at the orange logo on the chest. “Thanks. Big McLaren guy, are you?”

Oscar laughs and brushes his lips against your temple. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Then he goes back to kissing you. You’re not complaining. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn all about him.

…..

Weeks later, you corner Logan at the British Grand Prix. Oscar’s distracted by interviews, but Logan’s not busy.

“What was the pickup line he wrote?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest.

Surprisingly, he needs very little convincing. He just laughs, eyes darting to where Oscar stands behind you in the media pen. His gaze is full of amusement.

“I be-leaf we’re meant to be,” he says in a teasing tone. “He was down bad.”

You laugh and turn over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend. He’s grinning watching the two of you talk. Later, you tease him for the cheesy line, for hiding behind coffee cups and scribbled pen when he could’ve just told you. He teases you for the same, for not telling him how you felt, for not making a move. And then you look at him, knowing your gaze is terribly soft.

“I believe it, too,” you tell him.

When he kisses you, you draw constellations between the freckles on his face with your thumb. Outside, it starts to rain.

a/n: can you tell I am a big plant nerd? anyways live laugh love oscar piastri I want to help him pick out plants :)

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #honeywrites #op81 #if you’ve made it this far in the tags somehow hi

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mifithemuffin · 1 year

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in one of the "nothing is original create whatever you want" talks I had with myself I somehow managed to make myself believe that nothing is original=same thought can come to me=same thought SHOULD'VE come to me

so now I get genuinely surprised every time I see something remotely interesting and go "huh! I haven't thought about that one yet!" as if it should've been mine thought instead. and my brain does it constantly now.

of course you haven't thought about that, it's not as if you have access to the otherworldly knowledge storage with all of the human thoughts confined, you silly dingus

#creative process #writing #writing stuff #edits #shower thoughts taken to the extreme #positive affirmations gone kinda wrong ig

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rkmaru · 7 months

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“No man is really happy, or safe, without a hobby”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanart #rkart #ikemen sengoku fan art #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen ieyasu #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #affirmations gone wrong

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elliesonlyhoe · 12 days

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Loser!ellie headcannons .ᐟ (pt. 2)

(Warnings: Some NSFW ‘nd I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything !)

Loser! Ellie who fucking loves neck kisses (and kisses in general)

Loser! Ellie who claims she's fully capable of being away from you for long periods of time yet not even 10 minutes after you walk out the door to go to work, she starts calling/texting you.

Loser! Ellie who begged you to get matching pajamas with her until you just caved and ordered them😭

“Babeee just hear me out!” Ellie whined, shoving her phone in your face which on the screen had a picture of a couple wearing these adorable matching dinosaur onesies. “Els no. I'm not wearing fucking dinosaur pajamas..” You rolled your eyes playfully, pushing her phone away “But-” “No Ellie.” You cut her off. “Y'know what, fine then.” Ellie said, turning away from you. You look at your girlfriend sighing “Ellie do not..” you say chuckling playfully, you knew when Ellie didn't get her way it resulted in her giving you the silent treatment. “For fucks sake, give me the phone.” You say trying to sound annoyed but failing. “Fuck yes!” Ellie said in excitement handing you her phone so you could purchase the pajamas

Once you placed the order you sighed seeing your girlfriend smirking at you, “You're such a dick” you tease, obviously not meaning it “I love you too~” Ellie teases back an adorable giggle of excitement escaping her lips.

Loser! Ellie who would make these adorable paper rings for the two of you :( <3 (and you would wear yours everywhere you go)

Loser! Ellie who absolutely adores physical touch, but quality time and words of affirmations and are close 2nds

Loser! Ellie who clings to you like a little koala throughout the day

Loser! Ellie who cannot stay quiet during makeout sessions for shit. (I'm talking constant whining and small breathy moans in between kisses)

Loser! Ellie who likes watching you every move, she just finds it so fucking attractive how you manage to look so cute doing literally anything

Loser! Ellie who wrote cute songs for you before you guys started dating and would play them on her guitar without you realizing that the songs were actually about YOU

Loser! Ellie who scrolls through the texts between you and her while you're at work and gets off to any and every voice note and/or photo/video you've ever sent her (She's so fucking needy I swearrr)

Loser! Ellie who would find you 10x hotter if you could speak another language🙏❤ (like don’t get me wrong she'd love you regardless but this bitch is a sucker for other languages and accents)

Loser! Ellie who 100% prefers tits over ass

Loser! Ellie who begs to watch Jurassic Park on your movie nights (despite having watched it with you a million times.)

Loser! Ellie who can't keep her hands off of you whatsoever

You and Ellie had gone out to a restaurant of your choice for your weekly date, sure Ellie wasn't much of a restaurant typa girl but she'd do anything if it meant seeing you happy. That night you had been wearing this beautiful wine red dress that hugged your body so perfectly, Ellie couldn’t help but stare at the way the dress showed off your every curve. She swore she was in heaven, not to mention how short the dress was, she was so tempted to glide her hand across your thigh just to get a reaction out of you. You, on the other hand, didn't even need to look over at your girlfriend to know that her eyes were roaming your body.

“Hm? Something wrong Els?” you teased as she snapped out of whatever trance your body had on her “You're just s'pretty mama.. it's unbearable..” Ellie mumbled, before starting to play with the bottom of your dress, her hands almost finding a way underneath. “Baby, not here..” you mumbled tapping Ellies hand with your own as a signal for her to move it away. “Please babe~ I'll make it quick..” Ellie whispered as she nuzzled into the nape of your neck, placing soft kisses along your supple skin. You whined quietly feeling your girlfriends tongue and lips trailing along your neck up to your ear. “Fuck it.. just be quick..” you say trying your best not to lose your composure. Ellie grins and places her hand in yours standing up and directing you to the restroom.

Loser! Ellie who likes picking dandelions and putting them in your hair at any chance she gets

Loser! Ellie who has a playlist she listens to on the daily of songs that remind her of you

Loser! Ellie who can’t pose in pictures for shit, like you'll be standing there doing a cute lil pose for the selfie you wanted to take of the two of you while Ellie either holds up a peace sign or just awkwardly stands like “🧍‍♀️”

Loser! Ellie who tells all her friends about you and tells them all the cute things you've said or done

A/N .ᐟ : Thank you guys sm for all the love on pt.1 (like deadass I'm so grateful) so I figured I'd make a part 2!

#ellie tlou #ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #tlou fic #wlw #lesbian #ellie x fem reader #loser ellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tlou #the last of us #ellie headcanons #tlou headcanons

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querenciasturniolo · 5 months

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headcannons ⮕ m.s

a/n: 75% boyfriend headcannons, 25% plus sized reader headcannons, but i definitely did my best !! @rainsoakedphoenix , i hope you enjoy, love 🫶🏻💓

❥ matt in the talking stage is very quick to reply, and always has something to add to the conversation. he’s flirty, but subtle about it, not wanting you to think he’s moving too fast, or give you the wrong impression.

❥ this dude is an absolute open BOOK. any question you ask him, he answers openly and honestly.

❥ he hates small talk, absolutely despises it. would rather talk about incredibly deep, philosophical things instead of a simple “how are you ?”

❥ would ask you “what are we ?” instead of just asking you out, idk man, dude’s complicated.

❥ he would not give a fuck about you being plus sized, not a single one. he likes you bc you’re a good person, and nothing else matters to him in the slightest than that.

❥ “get out of here, you’re perfect just how you are.”

❥ hands on your hips and waist when you’re out in public. i wouldn’t say he’s a fan of pda, but he isn’t one to not have a hold of you somewhere.

❥ in a more private setting ? dude is cuddly and needy as HELL. constantly holding you, whether it’s just your hand, his arm around your shoulder, standing behind you with his hands on your hips, shoulders, waist, you name it.

❥ on days where you’re insecure, he’s quick to snap you out of it. he can tell whether you need reassurance or a distraction without you even having to explain.

❥ HUGE on reading body language and tone of voice, can tell immediately if something is wrong just by the way you’re breathing.

❥ pet names for days. “baby”, “babe”, “love”, “beautiful”, “bunny” (fight me, i dare you), dude will throw in “toots” in an awful boston accent, just to make you laugh and see you roll your eyes

❥ whiny, whiny, W H I N Y. constantly asking for cuddles, kisses, hugs, scratches, everything.

❥ huge words of affirmation guy, never gets tired of hearing that you love him or your thanks for him doing something for you. essentially, he’s a giant puppy dog.

❥ always has his hand on your thigh when he’s driving oh my GOD

❥ instead of physical gifts for anniversaries, he’d give you love letters (i’m sobbing)

❥ dude is not afraid to post you anywhere, absolutely ADORES showing you off, even if it’s just of you sleeping in his lap, or an underview of you watching the tv and playing with his hair

❥ “what ? i can’t show off what’s mine ?” (kill me)

❥ supportive of you in every single aspect, not once has he ever looked at you and made you feel like you couldn’t do what you wanted

❥ lowkey possessive, but not in a toxic way ! just wants you all to himself, and gets whiny when you have to go or you have other plans and can’t come over. it’s mostly a joke, and he’d never ever do it if it actually upset you, he just truly does want you around all of the time.

❥ HUGE on setting boundaries early in the relationship, wants to know your ‘hell yes’s and ‘hell no’s IMMEDIATELY

❥ says “i love you” first, no ifs, ands or buts.

❥ “i love you, ya know ?”

❥ is blushing the entire time he’s trying to get it out, but relaxes when he sees your grin

❥ refuses to “argue”, dude only has constructive conversations where the two of you find a solution

❥ “it’s us against the problem, babe. not us against each other. what’s going on ?”

❥ three quick pecks every time one of you asks for a kiss, sometimes more, but never less, and he will absolutely pout if you ever short him.

❥ “what was that ? give me a real kiss.”

❥ some nights when his energy is low, and his social battery is almost completely gone, he’ll just lay with you with his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat.

❥ he’s a little snippy on bad days, but he always catches himself.

❥ “i’m sorry, love. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

❥ B A N T E R, he’s a shit, for sure

❥ “oh yeah ? wanna say that to my face ?” (think lori and noah from tiktok)

❥ on days where your body image is bad, he stops what he’s doing and takes the time to just hold you, and reassure you that your body is beautiful.

❥ “look at me, hey. i love you, every single part of you.”

❥ star gazing dates, midnight drives to nowhere, movie nights in the living room, nights where the two of you just stare at the ceiling and enjoy each other’s company.

❥ “penny for your thoughts ?” “what are you thinkin’ about over there ?” “what’s on your mind, beautiful ?”

❥ never shies away from mentioning you on the podcast/in videos.

❥ “oh my god, my girlfriend loves that.” “holy shit, me and y/n were just talking about this !”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo headcanon #sturniolo #querenciasturniolo

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awfcspencer · 3 months

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Nine Months || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x pregnant!reader

Part 1

prompt: The 9 months leading up to the arrival of your baby.

warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, self-doubt/anxiety, mentions of miscarriage, mostly fluff but a few instances of angst.

a/n: almost 7 thousand words of fluff

Month 1: Poppy Seed

Upon flipping the positive pregnancy test, your whole life suddenly felt fast, there felt like a million things you need to accomplish. You have having a baby. You quickly scheduled a prenatal appointment and the doctor told you that you were about 5 weeks pregnant. She prescribed you some vitamins and medications to help the baby grow properly and scheduled a few more future visits.

Leah had gone out and bought several pregnancy books. You joked with her that she had purchased out a whole bookstore when she brought home roughly about 13 books and there was no way she would actually read them. But she did read each one, thoroughly, even taking little notes on post-its and showing you passages she found interesting. One of the books she had bought had a little pregnancy growth chart, indicating your baby was about the size of a poppy seed, it was hard to imagine something so small. Every month she would tell you how big your baby was getting through the sizes of fruits, it always made you laugh. Almost every day you had to convince Leah not to buy something baby-related. You would be at the shops and she would see an outfit or a toy and plead with you that you had to buy it. When you weren’t looking she would place whatever it was in the cart and you wouldn’t notice until you got home.

You had experienced pretty typical symptoms, swollen breasts, mood swings, and nausea, but nothing too extreme. To be fair, it mostly just felt like you were on a month long period. But you now found yourself rubbing small circles on your stomach more often. Right before you and Leah would go to bed, she would always politely ask to put her hands on your belly. She wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable and you would always tell her that she really didn’t need to ask, she was also the baby’s mother, but every time without fail she would ask for permission. Leah would whisper small affirmations to your belly and sealed it with a kiss.

“Do you think the baby can hear you yet?” you ask her.

“One of the books I read says the baby can begin to hear sounds at around 18 weeks.” she quickly tells you, feeling satisfied in her knowledge that she got from all the reading she did.

“Oh, what a nerd” you jokingly say to her, hitting her with a plush pillow.

“Your nerd” she replies as she sends you a cheeky smile and a kiss.

“So corny,” you tell her, shaking your head slightly before dozing off to bed in her arms.

Month 2: Raspberry

Today’s appointment was one you and Leah had been crucially waiting for, circled on the calendar for weeks, today you would hear the baby’s heartbeat for the very first time. You had previously looked up pregnancy journeys to get an idea of what to expect and you knew that for some people, this is where some parents had found out that their sweet angel baby had passed. The thought was absolutely crushing and waved over your head as Leah drove you to the clinic, it was utterly terrifying. Since you had taken the IVF route, there was a higher possibility of having a miscarriage up until the second trimester. You tried to keep your cool and not tell Leah in fear that if you got the horrible news, would she blame you, would she hate you? Your hormones were all over the place and did not help you whatsoever so when it all bubbled over and you broke out in instant tears when you pulled into the parking lot, Leah knew something was wrong.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in any pain?” she quickly asks as she turns to face you in the car, reaching out to hold you hand.

You try to answer her through your sobs, only being able to get out, “...You will hate me”

“Hey hey hey, I need you to calm down love. Breathe in and out okay?” she tells you as she over exaggerates her breathing to have you follow along. Her comforting soft voice and the physical contact of your hands, you manage to relax.

“I was online and loads of people say that this appointment can shows sign of birth defects or even if…” You can’t get yourself to finish the sentence, not even wanting to possibly speak it into existence. But Leah knows what you are talking about, she’s done her research too, she’s read about this appointment, she knows the news you could hear.

“Look at me”, she pulls your lowered head up by your chin, “Whatever happens in there, we will weather it together okay? I could never, ever, hate you. You are the bravest and strongest person I know and the courage it has taken for you to go through this process is already enough for me. I’m sure baby is perfect, just like her mother.” Her words put you a little at ease, this was something neither one of you had ever done, it was scary but also you knew it would eventually be the best thing to ever happen to the both of you.

Once you had managed to calm down a bit more, thanks to Leah’s perfect ability to know exactly what to say, you walked into the appointment with high hopes.

The female doctor was kind, asking you questions on how everything was and if there were any problems. On the table, you and Leah held hands, needing to be as close to her as you could. The time had come and the doctor warned you that the gel would be cold. You squeezed Leah’s hand tighter.

The next few seconds felt like forever, a lifetime, desperately waiting to hear the pitter-patter of a heartbeat. And then it came. A strong heartbeat was music to your ears. Your baby’s heartbeat. Tears brimmed in your eyes as did Leah’s, it was the most perfect and beautiful sound. You wish you could burn it on a CD and listen to it forever, luckily, Leah had recorded it on her phone so you could replay it any time you wanted.

“See baby, it’s perfect” she beamed. For Leah, this was incredibly special. She was sat with the love of her life listening to their baby’s heartbeat. The moment was perfect, just the three of you. A healthy baby was all she could ask for.

Month 3: Lime

For the third straight morning in a row, you had woken up to overwhelming nausea and was sat hunched over the toilet throwing up. If anything, it was mostly just annoying, but every time you though about how much you hated having morning sickness, you quickly reminded yourself that you were growing a full baby, your baby. Leah had started to become a light sleeper when you initially realized you were expecting, wanting to be ready for anything at all times. So when you felt a body come behind you to rub your back and hold your hair, you knew it was Leah.

“Baby you are doing so well” she coos as you once again throw up, her long fingernails run up and down your back, trying her best to soothe you. Your sore everywhere, your breasts continue to get bigger and more tender, your lower back now aches constantly, and you have to pee more often than you ever have. But you knew it was worth it, willing to do it a hundred times over.

Each morning you woke up sick, Leah would try to stay home from training, but each time you would convince her to go, explaining you and baby were fine and you promised you would call if you needed anything. At this point, you and Leah were the only two to know, keeping it just the two of you for a little bit, enjoying the journey together. Leah had secretly told an Arsenal staff member that exchanged numbers with you to text or call in case anything happened.

At one of your appointments, Leah had asked for an extra ultrasound of your baby so she could put in her locker in the changing room. Her teammates had asked about it, telling them it was a future cousin. If they had taken a second to look closer, they would have seen your name at the top. She liked having a piece of her future baby near her, spurring her on to play better, practice harder.

This was also the month when you finally let Leah go crazy and buy more things for the baby. You just didn’t expect Leah to buy so much, receiving a package almost every day. You were sure the postman had your address memorized with how often he was there. But you can’t deny that the tiny outfits or booties weren’t absolutely adorable and increased your already high need for the baby to arrive. Since you and Leah had not found out the gender yet, most of the stuff was necessities or gender-neutral things.

One day after training, Leah ran into the house screaming for you to close your eyes. Doing so, she places something in your hands.

“Open”

A small Arsenal baby kit with the last name Williamson across the back along with a small number 6.

“Awe baby! When did you get this?” you asked holding up the small jersey. It was so tiny but one day your baby would be wearing it, and your heart swelled.

“I told the man working it was for a family member, fresh off the press today.” she smiled.

“It’s perfect” giving her a kiss and pulling her down so she could massage your achy shoulders, “Love you baby,” you told her as her strong hands helped relieve some of the tension.

Month 4: Sweet Potato

The beginning of your second trimester was relieving as most miscarriages occur in the first trimester, so you were passed one of the scary humps. Your morning sickness had thankfully passed, a godsend really. One thing that had dramatically increased was your very quick mood changes and your emotions. You found yourself snapping at Leah when you really didn’t mean to, but she was always slow with you, understanding it was just a matter of hormones and you didn't mean to get angry. You also had a bad case of pregnancy forgetfulness, you would say something one second and completely forget it the next.

“Leah I do not want pizza for dinner, I said I wanted Nando’s” you angrily say to her, thinking she never listens to you, quickly becoming agitated.

“Babe you told me like maybe 10 minutes ago that you wanted to order pizza in. Do you want me to cancel it and order something different?” Leah pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly stressed out trying to figure out what to get for dinner since you had suddenly changed your mind.

“I never said that! Great now you are mad at me” Tears begin to brim, begging to fall from your eyes. You really thought you had said you wanted Nando’s but now you can’t remember, did you say you wanted pizza?

“I am not mad love, I just want to make sure you and baby eat.” Reaching for her phone as she orders online from Nando’s getting your favorite without even having to ask, knowing you like the back of her hand.

“God why are you always so sweet. I’m trying to be mad at you” you tell her. She doesn’t have to respond, rather pulling you in for a hug as she wipes your tears. She carries you over to the couch to relax before the food gets here, putting on a show that the both of you have been binge watching.

Baby was growing each day and you were starting to show slightly. It was honestly crazy, it was one of the surreal moments where you really thought about how you were carrying a human inside you, it was beautiful. Both you and Leah figured that now was a good time to start telling family and close friends.

You started with Leah’s parents and her brother first, gathering them around your house for a family dinner. Dressed in an oversized jumper and sweats, nobody could really tell you were pregnant unless they knew you were. After everyone had finished eating, you and Leah announced you had a gift for them. She placed the perfectly wrapped package on the table and Leah stood behind you and placed her head on your shoulder as you watched them open it.

Inside was the same small Arsenal kit that Leah had bought. You could tell Amanda knew immediately but wanted to give the boys a chance to figure it out.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think this might be a couple sizes to small” Jacob bluntly states, laughter filling the room as Amanda hit him in the back of the head.

David had put the pieces together a few seconds later and had gotten up to congratulate the both of you as Amanda did the same, both had gotten emotional which made you get emotional and then Leah emotional, a happy emotional though.

“Oh I’m so excited” Amanda beams smiling with tears in her eyes. By now Jacob had finally realized and said his round of congratulations, telling the both of you that he calls ‘the fun uncle’, causing both of you to chuckle.

Telling your family went roughly the same, your parents sending congratulations and wishings, discussing each way they were going to spoil the baby when they arrive.

Next up was the Arsenal girls. You and Leah thought back and forth on how you wanted to tell them, trying to figure out the best way. You both had settled on getting each of the girls little plaques that had their names with the word ‘aunt’ written in front of it. Leah had gotten all the girls together at lunch and announced that you would be joining them, which was not untypical for you. The girls all loved you and enjoyed when you were around. Walking in with the bags of gifts, the girls immediately greet you.

“Leah your missus is glowing, way out of your league” the irish woman yells at Leah when you make your appearance. Leah quickly slaps her upside the head and pulls you in for a quick hug and kiss.

“Always lovely to see you McCabe” you send her a smile as she returns the smile.

Leah explains that you had brought them all something and they light up like a kid on Christmas. With Leah’s help, you pass them all out and tell them to open them when everyone had one.

There was a moment of silence as they opened the gifts and then chaos ensued, questions thrown at you and Leah, everyone talking over themselves.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Beth asks. You simply smile back and nod your head.

"Wait! Is the ultrasound on your locker your baby?" Steph asks as you both nod your head, Leah grinning from ear to ear.

All the girls suddenly rush to you, pulling you in a few directions trying to give you hugs or feel your belly. You really didn’t mind, you knew they were all just excited.

Leah’s yells of telling everyone to be careful or backup went unanswered.

“EVERYONE BACK UP” She yells as she now has the attention of the girls as they do as she says.

“Are you okay baby?” she quickly asks to make sure and you reassure her that you are perfect.

Her protectiveness has increased dramatically since you started to tell people. She would never let you lift anything too heavy and would much rather her do everything. She set clear boundaries when people asked to touch your belly, always assuring people that they needed to ask you, and if you ever wanted to say no or felt uncomfortable you would tell her and she would fix it. You find her protectiveness cute, and annoying at times, but mostly cute.

The girls come in small clusters up to you and you chat with every single one of them, all of them talking about babysitting, play dates, asking you questions about pregnancy and such. They were all so lovely and you were blessed that you would be raising a baby with the Arsenal girls as their role models.

Arriving home, you were dead tired, a long day on your feet and socializing. Leah helped you do your skincare as you were basically falling asleep at the sink, but not long after you were in bed. Leah was in the middle of talking to your stomach when you felt the baby kick you. At first, it didn’t register to you, but now you were suddenly awake.

“Lee the baby just kicked” you tell her, grabbing her hand to show her where you felt the kick. It took a few seconds before the baby inside your belly kicked again, but now Leah felt the kick.

“They just kicked my hand” she yells, obviously excited. For a few minutes, the baby would kick every so often before stopping for the rest of the night.

“Looks like we got a future striker in here” you jokingly tell her, knowing it will rile her up.

“No way, they will be playing defense, that’s where it is at.” She says so asserting that you can only tilt your head back and laugh. Your back is parallel with her chest, as she places a kiss on your head and whispers ‘Good night love’ in your ear. You were now about halfway through your pregnancy.

Month 5: Ear of Corn

Throughout your whole pregnancy, you and Leah both had talked about whether you guys wanted a boy or a girl. Thankfully, you were both in agreeance that all you wanted was a healthy baby, the gender did not matter, and you both would be happy either way.

For the next appointment, you had invited Amanda so the doctor could tell her the gender and she could begin to plan the gender reveal party. At every appointment, whenever you got the chance to hear the baby's heartbeat, you would soak in each second of the beautiful sound. The doctor told you that the baby was developing well and that the baby had begun to grow hair. Baby was very active now, kicking more often and it felt like they were doing backflips on your blatter every few hours.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked.

Both of you screamed "No" very quickly, shocking the doctor a bit.

"Sorry, no, we want to do a gender reveal later. You can tell my mom though, she will be planning the whole thing." The doctor told Amanda privately and then you all left the clinic to get food. Your cravings now ran rampant and you were always hungry, obviously now eating for two.

You began to get impatient waiting for the day of the party to arrive, often times you thought about simply calling Amanda and demanding she tell you, but each time you talked yourself out of it.

The day had finally arrived, surrounded by your family, Leah's family, her Arsenal and England teammates, and other close friends piled into your backyard. The sun was shining and everyone talked among themselves. You were mostly the star of the party, everyone vying to speak with you or feel your belly, but you wanted Leah to feel important too, this was her baby shower as well. You wanted her right next to you at all times, having her answer some of the questions shot at you.

About an hour into the party, you started to get a bit overwhelmed, lots of curious hands on you, and your social battery was dying by the minute and Leah was off with a few of her teammates. You just needed a few seconds to collect yourself so you escaped off to the baby's room. You and Leah had been working piece by piece setting up the room, late nights spent building furniture and then rebuilding it when Leah wouldn't listen to you when you tried to tell her instructions. A small lion stuffed animal that Amanda had bought out at the shops one day sat in the middle of the bassinet. She had said that Leah had an identical one when she was a baby and the thought made your eyes swell with tears whenever you thought about it.

"You all good? I saw you sneak out and head up here." a voice you recognized as Alessia asked. You and Alessia had gotten quite close when she moved into your home for a few months when she first transferred to Arsenal. She was absolutely lovely to be around and she was like a sister to you.

You turn towards her with red-rimmed eyes and you can tell the poor girl is immediately stressed, quickly saying, "Do you want me to grab Leah?"

"No I'm okay Less, I just needed a few minutes from the craziness outside," you tell her as she pulls you in for a hug. You trust Alessia so you relax into her arms. The baby kicks inside your belly, almost as if they knew Aunt Less was near.

"The baby just kicked, here give me your hand." Reaching out to grab her hand and place it on your stomach, the baby kicked her hand.

"No way!" she exclaimed. "A future England number 9 in there."

"Oh please do not let Leah hear that, she has insisted the baby will play defense." you laughed out.

Walking back down with Alessia, you were told the reveal was soon. Amanda had a cake made the color blue or pink inside when you cut into it. Leah gathers everyone around as you take place behind the cake, Leah coming to your side after.

"1, 2, 3" Amanda yelled out as you cut into the cake together, each holding a piece of the knife. The cake was a light shade of pink inside.

"It's a girl!" Leah shouted out as she jumped up and down and pulled you in for a searing hug and kiss. A little baby girl. Once again, you were in tears, the pregnancy hormones never took a break.

"A baby girl!" you said.

The rest of the party had gone swimmingly, everyone raving about a little baby girl. Kyra spent a lot of time trying to convince you and Leah to name the little girl after her, claiming it was the best name possible and all you could do was laugh at her valiant effort. Alessia and Ella argued over who would be the best aunt and Viv and Beth were talking about how Myle would love the baby. Your little girl already had so many people who cared for her.

Month 6: Head of Lettuce

At this point in your pregnancy, everything had really gone according to plan. Your growing girl was hitting every milestone and the doctor assured you both that she was healthy and that at this point, her eyebrows and eyelashes had fully developed. The dreaded Braxton Hicks contractions began at the beginning of month 6. They were like painful squeezing of your uterus or abdomen but they never lasted too long and most of the time you had Leah right next to you to guide you through them. They were a bit similar to period cramps.

You weren't completely bedridden yet either, but your belly had grown significantly which made tasks such as seeing your feet or bending over particularly difficult. Your sleep had also been disrupted as you were still getting up in the middle of the night to pee. Cuddling also got a bit difficult but you and Leah managed to make it work. After long days, Leah would stand behind you and carefully lift your belly up to relieve some of the tension in your lower back.

"Baby, I am going to set her back down, is that okay?" she asks as you shake your head in agreement.

Each month, Leah would take a Polaroid of you and place it in a scrapbook she had been making to show your baby girl one day. The scrapbook was filled with ultrasound photos, and wristbands from the hospitals, and had room for when baby girl made her arrival.

Leah had taken the initiative and signed you both up for courses such as a Lamaze class. The class was to help you with breathing techniques and relaxation. In class, you were the only same-sex couple but everyone welcomed you and some even asked about the IVF process which you were happy to answer.

The teacher had you and Leah sit on a yoga mat with your back to her chest as you practiced different breathing processes. The class helped you and Leah learn a lot and prepared you for the scary nature of childbirth. Especially with Leah by your side, you knew you would be supported, and she took the classes very seriously, asking questions and taking notes to look back at when the time came.

When a particular Braxton Hick rattled through your body one night as you both lay on the couch, Leah held your hand and guided your breathing like she learned in class. When it eventually passed, you thanked her and she simply insisted there was no need.

The past months have gone rather quickly, time was flying by as you were now on the last turn before giving birth. The baby's room was now painted a light shade of grey and all of the furniture had been built. While you were excited for her to come, were you actually ready? ready to be a mother?

It all came to the forefront one night as Leah finished up talking to your bump.

"Lee? Have you ever thought maybe you won't be a good mom?" you asked in almost a whisper tone, hopefully, low enough maybe she wouldn't even hear you. But she definitely heard you.

"Love, you will be the best mother. I see how you interact with children in both of our families, they love you, and they cling to you. You have this careful nature about you and I wouldn't trust anyone else on earth with a baby than you." Leah pleads with you, wanting you to help those thoughts leave your brain.

"I needed that Lee, thank you"

"Whenever you feel that way, I want you to communicate with me, tell me how you are feeling okay? I will always be here to help." She sweetly says. You can tell she really means what she says. She understood your thoughts entirely, feeling the same way at times but she would take on her own advice and talk to you when she felt that way and you would help ease her nerves and reiterate how great of a mother she will be.

Each night she would rub your back until your breathing evens out and she knows you are asleep. Pulling your body as close to her as she could. Dreaming each night of different things she can't wait to experience as a mom, and you did the same.

Month 7: Papaya

While Leah had genuinely bought every baby product you could possibly think of, she insisted that she plan you a baby shower, wanting to hit all the major highlights of being pregnant. You secretly thanked her for it. Your home was decked out in pink decorations as family and close friends entered your home. A simple late lunch and keeping things very casual was how you wanted to spend the day. You and Leah had said on the invites that you didn't need much but that you wanted everyone to bring a book as a card and write a little note to your baby girl to eventually read one day.

The Arsenal girls piled in with several gift bags, obviously not listening. Almost every single player had purchased a small kit with their number on the back so she could wear them when she came to the games, arguing over whose jersey she would wear more.

Steph and Caitlin had purchased several small kangaroo plushies and claimed that one day you all had to visit Australia with the baby. Lotte had made the baby a little blanket herself with the Arsenal red and white colors, she was incredibly talented and you knew it would get good use. The girls had absolutely spoiled baby girl and your heart couldn't be more full. As usual, the conversation about what position in football the baby would be playing came up once again, with Katie and Beth claiming she would teach her how to score an absolute banger of goals.

The day was very relaxing and the baby was very active as most girls got to feel her kick. At the baby shower, you played a little game and found that most of the girls held a baby like a football so you had to properly teach them, you could tell Leah's eyes were threatening to beam out of her head thinking about some of them holding your precious baby.

Eventually, Leah kicked everyone out of your shared home as she could tell you were getting tired. The rest of the night was spent relaxing on the couch and picking at leftovers from the shower.

In the coming days, you and Leah spent time trying to figure out the perfect name. Naming a baby was hard, she would have this name for the rest of her life, and it was overwhelming. You bounced around ideas back and forth.

"Emily?" you ask.

"No"

"Hanna?"

"No"

"Okay Leah maybe you throw out some ideas since you say no to all of mine" you laugh out.

"What about Stella? Like the star, since she was like a wish upon a star."

"I love Stella, Stella Amanda Williamson" you stated, revealing your intention to name her after an amazing woman.

You have known for a long time how important Leah's mother was to her and you knew you wanted to incorporate it into your baby girl's name. Leah thought about it but only wanted to do it if you were comfortable with it but hadn't mentioned it yet. Amanda was an important figure in your life too and you loved her just as much as Leah.

"You want to use Amanda as her middle name?" she asked to clarify she heard you right and you nodded back to her. Leah's emotions take over her as she breaks out in tears.

"Oh baby, it's perfect," she says through cries. "I am just so happy, happy tears."

Leaning down to your belly she says, "Stella Amanda Williamson. Stella after the star that I wished on for you to come, and Amanda for your amazing grandmother who will love you endlessly." sealing it with a kiss. You and Leah would keep the secret of her name until she was born.

Month 8: Watermelon

Your body had changed drastically at this point. You felt massive in every sense of the word. Your belly had grown significantly and little stretch marks outlined the top of your stomach. Your feet were in a constant state of swelling and that is when you could even barely see them through a mirror. You were tired all the time, sleeping was even worse as you could never get comfortable, and you were in a constant state of soreness.

You were supposed to be getting ready to go out for a dinner date with Leah since you knew that when the baby girl arrived you would be very busy, wanting to relish in just you and Leah time. Most of your clothes no longer fit so you typically sported a comfy jumper and sweats, so you didn't know what to wear for tonight. All of your clothes felt too tight and you felt utterly ugly.

"Baby are you almost ready" Leah asked as she peered her head into the room to find you sobbing in front of the mirror with just your bra and underwear on.

"Hey hey hey, what's the matter?" immediately coming to your side.

"Nothing fits and I look ugly!" you scream out. Your body no longer felt like yours, all these changes happening, it was like an out-of-body experience. "I'm constantly swollen, my breasts are huge and they hurt, I look and feel massive."

Leah didn't feel the need to answer. She simply bent down and leveled her head with your stomach. She placed a soft kiss on every single one of the narrow, streak-like lines that had developed.

"You're growing a baby love. Your body is growing to change. You have never looked so beautiful to me, a goddess might I add." She kissed every inch of your body in a non-sexual way. She kissed your chest and stated, "These are growing because they will be feeding our baby love."

"Thank you baby," you told her.

"How about we order in and watch a movie? How does that sound?" she asked.

"Sounds perfect" as you threw on some comfy clothes.

Month 9: Pumpkin

The last month had finally come and Leah took her last Polaroid picture, 9 photos of your growing belly, you could barely remember being so small in your first few months. Most of your days were spent on the couch watching trashy reality TV because the doctor advised you to spend less time on your feet.

Each day you had to basically shove Leah out of your shared home to go to training, promising you would call if you needed absolutely anything. Since the Arsenal team was made aware, the girls would ask questions about you almost every day and Leah was always happy to answer, she loved talking about her little family.

The Braxton Hicks had increased dramatically, and they were now more painful and lasted longer. I mean your body was gearing up to deliver a baby.

You and Leah had mapped out a plan with every instance in the thought process, if you were to go into labor at home, at a game, or when you were out. You had Amanda and your mom on speed dial as the days got closer to your due date.

This morning you woke up to a lot of pain but you assumed it was normal and continued with your morning routine and said goodbye to Leah as she left.

Sat on the couch, you felt a sudden rush of wetness between your legs. You knew it was time. The pain in your lower abdomen increased as the contractions began. You quickly called Amanda and explained your situation as she got into her car and came to your home.

"Love where are you?" she asked as she walked in.

"In here," you say through another painful contraction. She is immediately at your side, holding your hand, and guiding you through it.

Through a breath of pain, you say, "Call Leah."

She helps you to the car and grabs your to-go bags as she gets in contact with Leah and tells her to meet you guys at the hospital. She also thankfully called your parents and informed them, telling her they were on their way.

The drive to the hospital felt forever, in and out of pain, but thankfully you had arrived and got set up in your room and connected to a few devices that measured your heart rate, blood pressure, and contractions.

Back at the Arsenal training grounds, Kelly had pulled Leah aside and told her the news. Leah ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, throwing things in her kit bag as she tried to leave quickly.

"We're having a baby!" she yelled around the changing room. Luckily Lia was levelheaded and threw Leah in her car and drove her to the hospital as all of the girls yelled out good wishes and to send photos when she arrived.

A prayer was answered as Leah walked into the room, another painful jab hitting. She is at your side, clutching your hand, and reciting the breathing techniques she has learned from the classes.

Unlike the movies depict, labor was not quick by any means. Rotating between carefully squatting on a yoga ball and taking laps up and down the hallway, all with Leah by your side, telling you how strong you were. It hurt her to see you in so much pain, so she tried to be as helpful as she could. At times you would snap at her but then the next second you would need her close by. She kneaded your sore skin, paying attention to your lower back as it was in the most pain.

The doctor had come in periodically to check how dilated you were and after about 6 hours in labor, she told you that you were now ready to push. Leah helped you get situated on the bed and helped peal your legs up to begin pushing. Amanda and your mom left the room, you and Leah both wanted to experience just the two of you. By this point, your body was incredibly tired, having no energy to even think.

"Baby are you ready?" she asked with her soft voice.

"I'm tired Lee. I can't do it." you sobbed out to her. Your eyes wanted to close, you wanted to sleep, worn out from pain.

"Baby I know, but you need to push. Baby girl wants to come out." she could tell you were tired, she felt for you, and her heart hurt.

You pushed, mentally and physically, through the pain with Leah by your side, wiping your face with a cold rag every so often and telling you how amazing you were. Each push made progress and baby girl was making her entrance into the world. After what felt like hours of pushing, which was only really roughly about 20 minutes in reality, a loud cry filled the room. Baby girl has arrived. You and Leah both cry out, you had done it. The doctor and nurse together clean her off and she continues to cry, she sure has some strong lungs. You and Leah had told the nurse you wanted skin-to-skin contact when she came so the nurse carefully placed her on your skin, immediately calming down as she heard your voice.

"Hi baby" you sob out. Looking down at the most perfect baby in the world, she had Leah's nose and your ears, she was perfect. Leah was now staring at the two most important people in life. You look up at her and pat down at the side of the bed, wanting her to lie down and you tell her to take off her top to do skin-to-skin contact.

Leah quickly removes her top and lies down as you place Stella on her chest. All Leah can do is silently sob as she stares at your daughter, she can recognize Leah's voice from all the times Leah talked to her before bed.

"Hello Stella"

The nurse had gone through diaper changing and walked you through breastfeeding as you fed Stella for the first time. Wrapped in a pink blanket with a little pink hat on, you had Leah grab both sets of parents. She was weary at first, not wanting to overwhelm you, I mean you quite literally just gave birth and she knew they would all want to hold her, maybe Leah also didn't want to share Stella just yet. But you convinced her you were both okay and welcomed them in.

"She's here" is all Leah says out to the hallway as they make their way in. Leah took her seat back on the bed as you held Stella.

"Oh, she's beautiful" Amanda coos. Your parents and hers check on both you and Leah before you hand your mother her.

"She's perfect you guys." Your mother says as she cries, you can also tell your dad has tears in his eyes but he is stationed at your side, checking you out with his eyes to make sure his baby girl is okay, David and your father each check on their children as Leah talks to her dad about how everything went. Amanda is now holding her as she asks her name.

"Stella Amanda Williamson" Leah says as Amanda cries more. The room was mostly focused on passing her around and taking pictures. Your heart felt full, a very emotional day, but every second was worth it. Stella had begun to cry after a few and when your mom placed her in your arms, she settled down. Most of the day was spent feeding her every few hours and changing her. You also had pumped milk into a bottle so that Leah could feed her too. Stella was absolutely perfect, everything you could imagine and more. You and Leah were parents. A wish come upon a star, a wish come true.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #woso couples #arsenal women #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #awfc #arsenal wfc

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hecateslore · 3 months

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💌

supervisor!Simon

“Well this is awkward.”

“Yeah.” you sigh, grabbing and scanning each Item as fast as you can. “So you work here now?” Simon clears his throat, feeling uneasy at the sight of you.

“Temporarily. 10.83.” you say. Simon pulls out a crisp bill from his pocket, “I need change for the vending machine.” He chuckles, you only stare at him. Taking the money from his hand and putting the amount into the register. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. His shirt wasn’t ironed like it usually is, he looked drained. You hand him the receipt and the exact amount of change. “See you around.” and you give him no response. You need to find another job, quickly.

You let out another sigh. This is way harder than you thought. Simon’s voice kept ringing in your head. “You can always come back,”. You wanted to. Standing on your feet all day was not the business. You miss sitting in the office, goofing off, sometimes doing your makeup. Even though Simon would act like a dick, sometimes you’d just escape to the bathroom, or take a break.

Here you couldn’t sit, someone always needed help, there was a sale that they missed; somehow it was your fault. And now you're scanning 15 bottles of laundry detergent, 5 bars of soap, 10 packs of dish scrubbers, Goddamn couponers.

When you finish your shift, you sit outside on the store's patio, going through on your phone checking emails. Seeing if any of the offices responded to your applications.

For a second, you contemplate going back. The pay’s good, maybe you could apply for a different position? in the front away from his office. Maybe you could apply for a shift lead? but you needed to be there for more than 3 years. God this sucks. So you call johnny.

“How’s it going?” Johnny says still in hush mode. “It’s so stupid.” You whine. “It’s only your first day, “ he amuses quietly, “I know and my feet are killing me.” you continue. “I might just come back.” you say. “You should, we’re missing you around here..”

“You sure it’s not you?” you grin, “I enjoyed your company a bit.” Johnny laughed softly, “that’s a lie. you call me daily.” you poke fun at him and you both laugh, exchanging what happened today in the supermarket and back at your old office. “I saw Simon.” you say casually. “Told you he has an obsession.” he noted. You snort at his comment, “He bought breakfast.” you stated, “I think it was kind of a coincidence.” you shrug. “Probably. But I wouldn’t doubt him actually being obsessed.” Johnny comments. “He’s not.” you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“I’ll call you back, I gotta go.”

Click.

“You busy?” Simon asks cocking a brow at Johnny. “Uh,nah.” Johnny states, only realizing his screw up. Simon only chuckles at his response. “Come to my office.” Simon nods Johnny along.

Entering the room, Johnny looks at your desk noticing all your knick-knacks gone. Your desk was cleaned right off, and in the corner of Simon's office, he could see a box with your name written on it in messy handwriting. “Have a seat.” Simon offers, and Johnny does.“Something wrong?” He asks, “I’ve noticed some things.” Simon explained, Johnny couldn’t keep his eyes off the box of your things, “What’s that?”

“You’re on the phone..A lot.” Johnny’s eye contact on the box breaks and he looks at Simon. “Y’know how people call for insurance-” he says and Simon quickly interjects, “We only answer transfer calls for people who have trouble financing their insurance, so that’s false.”

Johnny’s throat went dry and all he could do was stare at the man across from him. “I’m not going to fire you johnny.” Simon sighs, “If that’s what you're scared of, we’re friends after all, just don’t do it again.” He affirms, Johnny only nods, “Take your lunch.” Simon waves him out of his office. Johnny closes the door behind him and puts his hand over his heart, attempting to soothe it back to its normal, healthy rhythm.

Simon sat in his chair, cackling to himself, slapping his knee. He loved the look on his face, of course He and Johnny weren’t friends, not anymore at least. That snippet he heard on the phone told Simon everything he needed to know about him.

Still in his chair Simon thought of calling you, but you were at work. A devilish thought peeped into his mind, maybe he could go into the supermarket again with the box of your things. It would be an excuse to see what you’re up to. He wondered if you worked full time or part time, he wanted to see you.

Simon blew out a sigh picking up the stress ball on his desk tossing it in the hair. It was weird having you on his mind, sometimes you were all he thought about. Last night he couldn’t sleep, your phone call kept him up. Your reassurance, and the way you stayed on even if you wanted to gouge his eyes out with a plastic spork. If he closed his eyes tight enough he could still see you behind the register. You, acting as if you’ve never heard or seen him in your life.

It’s only been a couple of days. He doesn’t understand where half of these emotions are coming from. He doesn’t know when they came, he doesn’t know why he feels entitled to you everytime Johnny’s around, or whenever he hears you two on the phone. He knows Johnny likes you like that, he’s seen when Johnny’s pining, how he’s soft and attentive, he says whatever and does whatever until you're trapped.

God it was stupid. That’s why Simon packed your things up, to show his appreciation, his efforts. Johnny would’ve let you clean it up all by yourself and lug a heavy box around all day. Simon stared and stared at the phone. He doesn’t know what time you get off, but it doesn’t hurt to try, right? And there Simon was. Sitting at the edge of his seat, letting the phone ring, and holding his breath. “Hello?” You say confused . “Hey.” Simon said, drawing out the “Y”.

“Simon?” He winces at his decision, “Maybe?” cringing even harder than before. “What do you want?” you respond dryly. “How's work?” he asks, mentally smacking himself in the head.“I’m off. Trying to get me fired?” He can hear the ruckus in the background, you're probably home, or eating lunch with johnny. “Not now at least,” he snorts, “I was just calling.” Simon says casually. “Why?” Simon swears he can see the confused look on your face. “Dunno.” he shrugs. “So there’s no reason for this call.” You point out.

“You still coming tomorrow?” You let out a sigh, and Simon smiles. “I need my things..” you emphasize sarcastically. “That you do.” he confirms. There was a beat of silence between you two. “Linda misses you.” He admits, “a lot of people do.” He finishes.

“I miss Linda, too.” you sigh once more. “You know the offer is still here, I would never turn you away.” He confesses. You’re quiet. “I was thinking about that today.” You disclose. “Of coming back?” he chimes in surprised. “Yeah.” you say softly. “You could if you want to.” Simon sits up, “I left for a reason, Simon.”

He knows, that’s why he hasn’t slept correctly or eaten a decent meal. “I know.” he answers. “You’re the reason. You know that, right.” you clarified making simon shut his eyes tightly.

“Johnny misses you most.” he states.

You stand over your stove phone in hand. “I know. We talked about it today.” You respond, “When’d you talk to him?” Simon prods. “His lunch break.” You say. Simon lets out a hum at your response. “I gotta go, I’m kind of busy.” you lie. “I assume, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” He asks on the other end. “Yeah.” You say and hang up the phone quickly.

“What the fuck.” you say aloud. You shake your head and decide whether to call Johnny or your best friend. you opted in talking to yourself and going over the conversation you just had. Why does he keep calling? And why is he bothering you about friday?

“What’s happening on friday?” you say assembling your meal. You thought about his offer again, maybe you could come back, and I mean your heels are killing you. “I would never turn you away.” Why was that so attractive? Why is he so attractive?

Is he trying to get you to come back so he can have someone to pick on again? He never apologized. Maybe he’s going to try tomorrow. That's why he’s adamant about you coming. Oh god. Johnny’s gonna be there. You have to get dressed and make yourself look presentable.

You finish your food and head to the bathroom for a quick shower, feet still aching from today. You take some medication for the pain and knock out until you have to get ready for tomorrow.

Friday.

Simon sits in his office, his shirt steamed and ironed, awaiting your arrival. You gave a call to the office letting the people in front know you’ll be stopping by to grab your stuff. On the office floor, Johnny sat in his chair wearing Friday's best, the sweater you told him you liked but in a different color. He waited for your “I’m here” text message, and kept looking at his phone every time he got a notification. Not even 15 minutes later you open the door to the back office. Simon's ears almost perk up like dogs at the sound of the door knob clicking against the hinge.

Simon steps out of his office, first looking for Johnny and thankfully the man is sitting at his chair, eyeballing you from his seat. Johnny gives you a wave and Simon gives the biggest eye roll, he would’ve gagged but it would’ve disturbed the atmosphere. Simon notices the little smile you have on your face, because Linda looks like she’s two seconds away from a meltdown. You give her a little wave and smile at her sympathetically.

“Glad to see you could make it.” Simon smiles, and you barely acknowledge his attempt at roping you back in. You take one good look at your desk and notice your things missing, “They're packed up in my room.” Simon raises his hands, your face relaxing at his words. You follow behind him into the very well known office.

He picks up the cardboard box filled with your belongings, “This is all yours.” you try to refrain from staring at the way his muscles flex as he sets the box down. “Thanks.” you say, grabbing the box. “I kind of wanted to talk to you today.”

You knew it. You only nod and sit in the very familiar chair. “I know this is probably not what you want to hear right now,” he chuckles nervously, and you suck in a harsh breath. “..I’m sorry.”

your eyeballs almost pop out of your head, and you choke on your spit. “Are you okay?” he asks brows furrowing, “Do you need water?” concern on his face. You wave him off, “I’m okay.” He lets out a relieved sigh, “I thought about our conversation after work, and I know I should’ve done this sooner and I should’ve been nicer,”

“Uh, yeah.” you agree sarcastically. “And when I saw you at the supermarket and your face when you quit. I know I can be a bit abrasive,” he rattles on, “Not a bit, you are.” you add.

“Okay, I am,” he corrects himself, “Are you trying to get me to come back here?” you raise a brow, “Johnny doesn’t work when you’re gone.” he lies. “So fire him.” you shrug, “He’s my friend.” another lie. “You can hire someone else..” you say. “I don’t want to hire someone else, I want you back.” He says which leaves you speechless.

“You said you thought about coming back, I told you I’m not going to turn you away. And I know the grocery store doesn't pay a lot.” He leans against his desk,

“If I do, Then you can’t bother me like before.” He nods, “I’m serious, I will tell Hr.”

“I won’t.” he puts his hand out, “I said ‘if’. ” you reiterate. You let out a breath, staring at his hand in front of you, you look up and see those amber eyes on your already. “My feet do hurt,” You say convincing yourself, “And that was only day one.” He urged.

“The job’s all yours. You just have to say when.”

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