Day Two: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus | Fernando Alonso Social Media Au

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simon’s first instinct was always to protect you—before himself, before anyone or anything else. whether in dangerous situations or small, everyday moments, his reflexes kicked in without hesitation. every action was a subtle yet undeniable promise: i’ll always keep you safe.

sidewalk rule? it was non-negotiable. he always made sure he was between you and the street, shielding you from traffic. if you drifted too close to the curb, his hand would find the small of your back, guiding you firmly to his side.

“stay here,” he would murmur, his tone gentle yet resolute, as if daring the world to try anything.

whenever the car came to a sudden halt, simon’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you, bracing against your chest. the seatbelt should’ve been enough, but he never trusted anything more than his own reflexes.

“you alright?” he’d ask, his hand lingering just a little longer, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

in a crowded space, simon always led the way, carving a path with his broad frame. his hand would stay on yours or at your back, making sure you stayed close. and on a full train, he caged you in without hesitation, using his size to shield you from the press of strangers. his arms rested casually against the poles, but his stance was clear—no one would get too close.

whether you were climbing into the car or walking through a door, simon’s hand would always reach out to guide your head, ensuring you didn’t bump it. in the kitchen, he’d gently tilt your head away from open cabinets, all without thinking. it was pure instinct—small actions that spoke louder than words.

one night at 3 a.m., a car backfired down the street, the sound tearing through the stillness. before you could even react, simon had you pinned beneath him, his body shielding yours entirely. his heart raced, convinced it was a bomb. even after realizing it wasn’t, he didn’t let go, whispering against your ear, “i’ve got you, lovie.”

you could wear whatever you wanted—simon never cared. he wasn’t possessive, but confident. no one would dare glance too long in your direction, not with him at your side. and if anyone was foolish enough to try, one sharp look from simon was enough to make them think twice.

with simon, protection wasn’t just instinct—it was devotion. in every gesture, every glance, every step, he ensured you knew: your safety will always come first. because to simon, loving you meant keeping you safe—always, no matter the cost.

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Yandere!Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 3.6k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || Okay, okay I'm lately obsessed with yandere Count Vronsky, so how about yan Vronsky suspecting that his wife is seeing someone or like in love with someone and it doesn't help when his mother keeps feeding his suspicions so he ends up locking the wife/reader up in their house in countryside/ another country house where no one can reach them and where he makes sure his beloved wife knows exactly how much he loves her. ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Yandere Count | Possessive Count | Aggressive Count | Stalker Count | Demanding Count | Accusations of Cheating | Toxic Mother | False ideas | False Suspicions from mother | Toxic Marriage? | Isolation of Reader | Slapping | Pushing or Shoving | Yelling | Slamming doors | Gripping readers throat | Passionate making out | Throwing reader on bed | Stripping reader | Unprotected PiV | Aggressive sex | Reader fights a bit but stops fighting | Dub-Con? | insinuated Cream Pie | Crying Reader | Fluff | Reader questions if she loves him at the end | Relationship conflictions | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I've been wanting to write for him for a long while! Thank you love for this request! I hope this is along the lines of what you were hoping for... Sorry if it doesn't hit exactly what you're looking for but I tried!!! Anywho.... I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It was this gnawing feeling, this feeling of dread, sorrow, a pain in his gut he couldn't shake. Watching you go as he leaned against the window frame, he knew where you were going. He knew, he just had this gut feeling that he couldn't quite shake. It ate at his heart, it ate at his brain, it was like these cogs and wheels working, but not in a way of rationality. His thoughts were completely irrational. Looking out that window as your carriage vanished into the thick fog of the dawn, he felt so lost, so angry. He wasn't happy, and not happy may be quite an understatement.

Placing a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips he grabbed a match from the fireplace and lit it. The smoke bellowed above, tossing the match into the fire he turned to see his mother sitting at the table.

"She does not have love for you anymore, Alexei." She stated. Her tone appeared caring, honest, maybe even having pity, but it was just because she didn't like you.

"She must love me. That is my wife, she must." He stated he didn't seem demanding about it, he seemed sad, heartbroken even.

"But she does not. She will never love you as she loves him. What married woman is happy with her husband? She has grown bored of you. Had she not she would not go to him as she does." She points out.

His heart, if it was a glass a cat had pushed off the counter it would have shattered. He only hoped that you were as enraptured by him as he was about you. He looked up at the wall, the painting of you seemed to be watching. He closed his stormy blue eyes and looked back at his mother.

"She does love me. I know it to be true. You speak lies, like a snake in the garden." He snapped and walked to the table and had taken a sip from the slightly sweetened tea he had poured only moments before your leaving. Sitting there he tapped his smoke against a small crystal ashtray and his mind became overrun, thinking of everything his mother had stated. Thinking of those possibilities. What were you doing? Were you spreading your legs for him? Was he satisfying you? Were you unhappy with him? Did you not love him? Did you grow bored of him? He rubbed his lip a moment as he took another drag before looking at his mother.

"When she comes home, I will settle this." He stated. Taking the cup and his almost-gone smoke and had vanished to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed after putting the cup on the bedside table and looks over your side of the bed. It was too much, these feelings he had, it was like they were just bubbling up, ready to overflow and put out the fire that kept the pot lit. Feeling the stinging in his nose from the slight anger he ran his hand through his curly blonde locks and his jaw clenched as he put his smoke out in the ashtray and grabbed his clothes for getting dressed before he slammed the bedroom door.

His mother had heard the slam and had made her way to the room. Letting herself in she looked over him and sighed. "I just want what is best for you."

"I said I would take care of it. I do not need your help. She is my wife, not yours." He sort of snapped.

"You are right, she is your wife. And your wife is off with another man, spreading her legs and enjoying her time away from you. So how are you going to handle that Alexei?" She asked.

"I will take her away from here. I will take her far away from everyone. Including you." He snapped. "Now if you do not mind, I am getting dressed. Go find something else to bother." He snarled slightly as he escorted her out of the doorway and closed and locked the bedroom door.

Looking out the bedroom window and looking over the garden, he watched the flowers bob from the heaviness of the heads that were filled with the morning dew. It was something so simple, and yet even looking at their beauty, he saw you, he saw your smile, your smooth skin, your curves, he saw how your hair fell, that glow in your eyes when you were happy. You had to love him, why was he questioning it? Why was he standing there, looking out on those flowers questioning if you loved him?! With a clenched jaw and a knitted brow, he threw open the closet door and grabbed his attire for the day.

After fastening the last button on his coat, he makes his way back to the kitchen- it's like he doesn't want to acknowledge the other parts of the home without you here. Feeling lost, and one track minded. He didn't like that you were gone, it loomed over him like a dark cloud heavy with rain looms over the dirt countryside roads. He needed to know where you were going. He needed to know what you were doing. He needed to know what you were saying. Were you tired of him? Were you unhappy? It just gnawed at him like a beaver gnawing on a log.

Why was this even a feather of a thought? It's not that he didn't want you to have friends, it's just, why did they have to be male friends? And even then, it wasn't the idea of male friends that bothered him, it was the embedded, plated thoughts from the snake in the garden that made him believe that you were unhappy, that you were not in love with him any longer, that you were looking for a way out of this relationship. Well, that was going to be nipped in the bud right away. There was going to be no second-guessing it, not after this.

He decided to gather himself a little more and decided to head out to find you. He had these questions that needed answers. He turned to look at his mother who was still there. "Watch the house while I am away. We will be gone for a while." He states. His mother went to speak but before she could retort with a comment he was out the door and off to the stables.

After a few hours of looking and getting a general idea of where you were he stopped, getting off the carriage he approached, standing a good distance behind as you stood there, talking to another man. Oh, this did not sit well with him, but he watched and observed. With a lick of his lips and a look of heartache, as you touched the other man's face, he couldn't help but feel that slithering snake of a mother of his was right.

The more he watched, the more you laughed, the closer this man seemed to be getting to you, and the more it climbed up him like ivy claiming lattice fencing. This green envious monster coils around his every nerve, his nostrils flair as he walks toward you and clears his throat, but you don't pay much attention until he grabs your arm and pulls you to him.

You gasp and look over his face. "My Love, what are you doing here?" You ask him.

"I could ask you the very same." He states. His stare was cold, his stare pained, and his stare… it bore into you like a hot glue gun into plastic.

"I am just out with a friend, we do this every week. It means nothing." You state honestly.

"Does it? Does it really mean nothing? You were touching his face, and laughing with him like you do with me. Do I not make you happy anymore? Have you grown bored and weary of me?" He asks you with a small shake in his voice almost as if holding back tears.

"Of course you make me happy, why would you ask such a thing?" you respond back looking into his stormy blue hues.

His jaw clenches and he looks at your friend and back to you. "We are leaving." He states as if dismissing you from your date with your male friend.

"What? No. Alexei, no." you stated.

"I do not know him, nor do I like how you were touching him, we are going somewhere. You'll like it. Get in." he states and gestures to the carriage.

"Alexei, no." You state firmly.

He clenches his jaw and looks over you. "Do not make me put you in there myself. Now. Be a good wife, and get in the carriage." He snarls lowly.

Licking your lips you look over his face and let out a slight breath before getting into the carriage. Feeling the shake of the carriage from the door closing. Placing your hands in your lap you look down, studying them a moment before you close your eyes almost in defeat, and wonder where he is taking you. It was clear he wasn't taking you home. Why was he suddenly acting this way? What was it that made him feel like you were unhappy? You began to study yourself, you even began to question yourself. But why? His actions alone.

His actions just then made you question if this was really where you needed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe he was seeing something you were not seeing. Were you really happier with your friend than you were with him? Was he not seeing how much you loved him? Were you really doing something bad? You turn back and look at him as he stops the carriage and climbs into the back of it with you as someone else takes over. Someone he had paid to drop you both off and take the carriage back to the house.

You sit there, in silence, and you study him, you study his face, his eyes, how his jaw twitches, how his brow knits, how his eyes seem to be full of sorrow, and maybe is that hate? You look down, and you think about all you've done, but you can't help but shake your head. You love this man, and he was blind to false things. Was there a way to fix it? Was there a way to get him to see that you love him just as much as he loves you?

"Where are we going? There is nothing for miles." You point out looking out the little window of the carriage door.

"We're going someplace secluded." He states.

"Secluded? Whatever for?" You ask with a slight bit of worry in your tone.

"Enough with the questions, you will see when we get there." He states, short in his tone.

You lick your lips and hike a brow before looking back down at your lap and letting out a slight sigh. You feel this could get problematic.

By the time you get to where you were going, the sun had already set and come back up. You look over his face as he offers to help you off the carriage. Your jaw clenches and you shake your head.

"Are you serious? Why are we here? We are days away from home at this rate Alexie." You point out.

HE shakes his head and looks at you and looks over the country home before looking back at you. "You will survive. This is for a reason."

"THIS IS ABSURD!" You scream. The only thing you cause to stir is birds out in the field. Your jaw clenches and you look over him shoving past him and heading toward the inside.

He sighs slightly and shakes his head, he isn't expecting you to understand. Rubbing his brow a moment he looks up at the gray skies and then over on the vast rolling fields of nothing. A small smile creeps across his face as he listens to the front door being slammed. Another soft sigh escapes his lips as he heads toward the house.

Upon walking in he looks around and spots you standing there in the living room. As he walks toward you to join you, you turn and look at him.

"What is all of this about?" You ask.

"You need to see how much love I have for you. I cannot do that back there." He stated honestly.

"So you isolate me?!" You raise your tone.

"Yes! It keeps you away from another man touching you!" He snaps.

"NO ONE ELSE IS TOUCHING ME!" You snap back.

"HOW DO I KNOW?!" He steps closer to you.

"No. You don't get to ask me that question! How do you not see that I love you!? I have always loved you!" You snarl as you step forward challenging him.

"Well, I suppose now you can show me just how much you love me as I show you how much I love you." He stated coldly.

"Don't be so pigeon-livered." You growl to yourself. "You're being a floozer Alexei. What has ever gotten into you?" You ask him.

"Are you really going to throw insults at me? Pigeon-livered? Floozer? Do not." He grips your arm and pulls you close. "Do not cross me."

You shove him and look over his face. "Or what?" You ask with a tightly knitted brow. "What are you going to do?"

Stretching his neck from left to right he licks his lips and his jaw clenched.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!" You snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!" He snapped back. He began to pace. "All I ever do is shower you with love and attention, I do nothing but prove to you how much you mean to me. I make sure you always put your best forward. And you do this. Run off with another man doing god knows what." He states.

Crossing your arms over your chest you stare at him a moment and blink a few times. "Are you blinded by your own selfishness right now? Can you not see past your own nose? I am not laying with another man Alexei! I have never laid with another man!" you snap.

"HOW DO I KNOW THAT?!" He snaps. "How do I know that?" He asked you. A complete and utter look of defeat sprawled across his features.

Walking to him you slap him across the face. Not once, but twice. Reaching forward he grips your throat and moves you through the house. Kicking open a door he shoves you into the bedroom and starts to unbutton his jacket. Looking over you his eyes hungry. His snarl was fierce, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear the bones grinding and you could feel the flex of his jaw. You try to shove past him but that wasn't happening.

"What are you going to do rape me Alexei?" You ask.

He scoffed and looked over at you. "Do you think that little of me? Strip." He demands.

"No." You cross your arms. At this point, you were fighting him to fight, how far could you push?

"I said strip!" He demands again. Walking to you he spins you around and starts to untie your skirt.

Layer by layer you fight, until you are both stripped down to mere thin layers. Tears staining your face, you look over him and shake your head, a small thumping sound of your heart feeling like it was echoing in the room.

"All I have ever wanted was for you to love me. You have to love me, you must love me." He states. He steps closer to you, looking over you he grips your face and pulls you near. "You will love me. You will." He states firmly.

Scared at this point you cannot find your words. He presses his lips to yours and at first, you give in, you cave, you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply, lovingly, longing for that affection he wanted to give you, but then you start to push away, saddened by the fact that he couldn't believe you, that he had no trust in you.

"No…" You start to push away, but you didn't want him to at the same time, it was this conflicting feeling.

"Do not tell me no, you want this…" he points out as he listens to your breathing.

You have no means of responding.

"I'm not taking that as a no." he states.

You give him a cold stare, looking over his face, his lips press against yours and you shove him back, and he throws you to the bed. You bounce once before he climbs on top of you and looks you over. He tilts his head and looks over your face and takes your wrists and places them above your head and looks over your face intently.

You attempt to wiggle free but he hovers over you, his body pressed against yours. In one hand he has your hands gripped together, in the other hand hikes up your skirt, he looks over you, and he leans in and nips at your lips. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you close your eyes. Shaking your head you begin to breathe heavier. It felt good, his hands on you, it always felt good, but there was this sense of fight that also washed over you.

As his lips found your neck he kissed up your neck to your jaw, finding your lips. While you loved his affection, you were terrified. Literally scared of him.

"Get off of me." you demand.

"Let me show you. See how much I love you." He takes your hand and places it on his hard cock. "This is how much I love you." He states.

You pull your hand away and turn your head in another direction. His senses overwhelm him, and unable to control himself he groans softly as he presses himself against you. You turn your head away from him, maybe checking out, but at the same time ever so present in this moment. As he thrusts himself into you you take in a deep breath. A whimper leaves your lips as a groan leaves his.

Looking over you he observes your features as he turns your face to look at him, leaning in he kisses you again. And it was then you cave, just a little. Your lips pressed against his, your hand moved up his arms to his hair and you pull him closer. Your hips roll against his thrusts and you begin to whimper against his lips. The feeling of him against you was something you always loved. Truthfully you never questioned this man's love for you. But you were conflicted because of how he was coming at you. You didn't know if you should fight him, or cave to him a little more.

The more he thrusts the harder he becomes in his motions, the more you fight. But the more you fight, the more he growls, it was a conflicting feeling all over again and you aren't sure what to do, it was overwhelming. You push him away, shoving him but he pulls you closer.

Feeling your body flush against his you let out another soft whimper. You move your hands to his shoulders as you feel him thrust deeper into you, your moans escaping you were almost pained but yet pleasure-filled. Your hips rolled against his as he continued to thrust with a fever. He pulls you even closer to him, pulling you into his lap as he guides you along his stiffened cock, nuzzling into you, nipping and biting at you.

The moans fill the bedroom, bouncing off the windows and the walls, and while you might be fighting him because of his choice of actions, this man was your life. You kiss him deeply as you both moan in pure pleasure. Your bodies collide in such a raw motion. Thrust after thrust, grunt, and groan after grunt and groan, screams of pure euphoria leaving you both. It all came to a halt with a trembling body-shaking finish, feeling as his cock twitched inside of you as hot ribbons of seed coat your velvet walls. He snarled against your skin, and you bring a hand across his face, and you begin to cry.

Holding you close, he looks down at you, smoothing your hair he presses his face against you.

"Shh… now now, everything is alright. I love you, so much." He whispers. "You have to love me back, you just have to." he says softly.

"I… I do love you, Alexei. I do. I wish you would see that." you say between sniffles.

He holds you close, nuzzling against you. "Shall we draw you a bath?" He asks.

Nodding your head he looks over your face and nods. "I shall draw you a bath. Think about what I said." He states.

"Are you isolating me? From everyone?" you ask as he gets up and slips his pants back on.

With a firm stare, he looks over you. "I am, and it's for our own good. You won't be seeing him, we will stay here as long as it takes." He states truthfully.

And like that, your heart becomes conflicted, you love this man, but you feel scared of this man… but then you look at him, and you don't feel afraid anymore. You just want him to see that you do love him. It's conflicting, and it's terrifying, you love him, but is it true? Staying here, you're only choice is to grow to love him. But that's been his goal all along, for you to love him, and for him to show you in so many ways how he loves you.

Oi diva sou eu denovo,andei pensando em um Enzo todo submisso a mulher,com aquela cara de coitado,daqueles que choram por medo de perder a mulher,eu amo um homem com cara de coitado.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐀, aqui está! Desculpa a demora, tô tendo ideias muito mirabolantes e complicadas de se passar para a escrita 😭 mas acredito que consegui passar essa vibe Enzo homem pobre carente da coitadolandia que prefere morrer do que perder a mulher dele em vida, que faria de tudo por ela e deixa ela ser o mulherão que ela é.

^᪲notas da autora: homem bobo carente pela esposa em quantidade exorbitante!, homem romântico e escritor de cartinha para a lobinha dele!, 40's!, guerra com tempo encurtado!, enzo militar!, muito choro e alegria!, citação de sangue e feridas!, sexo!, sexo desprotegido (já sabem meu aviso, né lsdnetes?)!

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ você pede e a vampgi escreve.

𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐎 era 1944 e o mundo se desmoronava em ruínas. Os lares haviam sido rachados com as dores e sangramentos da Segunda Guerra Mundial. Os homens lutavam no campo de batalha, distantes de seus lares, das esposas e filhos, enquanto as mulheres tentavam manter a esperança viva nas pequenas cartas que, vez ou outra, chegavam com notícias de seus amados. Muitos soldados se mostravam inabaláveis diante do horror, mas a maioria não conseguia esconder as lágrimas quando encarava a iminência da morte.

Naquela tarde, na minúscula base médica no front latino -americano, lotada e onde o cheiro do sangue misturava-se ao odor forte de medicamentos e à fumaça que parecia impregnar cada canto; Soldados estadunidenses, brasileiros e de outros países da América passavam de um lado para o outro entre a vida e a morte. Enzo Vogrincic estava quase sem forças. Seu corpo estava encostado em uma parede manchada de mãos ensanguentadas, provavelmente de algum outro soldado ou médico que falhou em manter a vida. A camisa do uniforme verde camufla dele estava toda ensanguentada de batalhas passadas, mas seu ombro esquerdo estava com uma mancha de um sangue vivo e molhado.

Ele respirava ofegante, mas sua dor física era insignificante comparada ao medo que o corroía por dentro. Seus olhos de uma cor entre um tom de castanho médio e o mel estavam marejados, vermelhos e vidrados no além. A mandíbula travada denunciava o ranger dos dentes e escancarava a dificuldade de não soluçar tanto. Ele chorava.

De repente, um soldado chamando Fernando, muita das vezes sério, mas bom e compreensivo, se aproximou numa tentativa de acalmar os ânimos feridos em latência de seu amigo. Ele conhecia Enzo de antes da guerra, em encontros familiares, na casa de ambos onde suas respectivas esposas riram e conversaram bastante. Sabia da força de vontade e resistência do uruguaio, mas também sabia que a guerra cobrava um preço até dos mais bravos cavaleiros.

"Aguente firme, meu companheiro. Já já você vai ser atendido". Fernando disse quase gentil. Preocupado, sabia que Enzo era um dos melhores homens deles em campo.

"Não é a bala...". Enzo murmurou baixinho, a voz cortando enquanto afundava a cabeça nas mãos calejadas. "Porra, não é só isso, Fernando".

Fernando o olhou meio de lado, sem entender muito do que se tratava. "Então... o que é?".

"E se eu morrer, e se eu me for sem sequer poder dizer novamente o quanto eu a amo? Minha florcita, Fernando... ela é tudo para mim".

Um outro soldado, que deitado em um catre de madeira caindo aos pedaços, de perna ferida e gemidos profundos de dor, balbucionou em lamentação algo sobre ter força e coragem, sobre não deixar os seus demônios tomarem conta de tudo. Enzo riu em meio a tantas lágrimas.

Ele enxugou o rosto na manga comprida que cobria seu antebraço, mas logo outras mais velozes caíram. "Vocês não entendem. Minha esposa... ela". Parou, com um fungada baixinha, se sentindo completamente despedaçado. "Ela é a coisa mais linda que existe. Os olhinhos dela... tão escuros, como jabuticabas". A voz entrecortou uma vez e ele se lembrou de você. Da sua imagem, da sua risada. Ele se lembrou de como você sempre o esperava. Do sabor de seus bolos, do seu tempero tão gostoso. "E o cabelo dela... enrolado, sabe? Sempre com aqueles bobs, tão formosa, tão... minha. E se eu nunca mais viver isso?".

A frase era cheia de chamego, de dengo, da realidade do quanto Enzo era completamente devoto por você. Agarrado a sua beleza e sua alma como uma âncora. E o silêncio que se seguiu foi uma reação disso. Todos ali tinham algo ou alguém para qual voltar depois do céu nublado, mas Enzo não se importava em transparecer esse processo com mais tristeza.

Logo os médicos chegaram. Revestidos com linhas, pinças e um único propósito: salvar o maior número de vidas. Um deles levou Enzo para uma sala menor. Tinha um catre pequeno no canto, pior do que o do soldado que recitou sobre força, e sentado, observou a área médica.

Em uma mesinha próxima, uma bacia com água fervente e álcool era usada para esterelizar os utensílios. Ali também tinham um frasco éter, bandagens e mais. O médico estava concentrado, abrindo alguns botões do uniforme de Enzo até poder tirar a manga e expor a ferida. Foi com um pedaço de gaze umidecido em algo que evitou maior infecção no ombro afetado do soldado.

Ele percebeu os olhos marejados de Vogrincic, mas não comentou. Todos ali tinham as suas vezes de cair em prantos. E a escassez de matérias mais eficazes, levou o velho no jaleco a usar o resquício de éter para dar uma anestesia geral em Enzo, visto que o estado emocional poderia comprometer a situação e piorar ainda mais a dor.

Enquanto se encarregava de tirar a bala, o senhorzinho, de cabelos brancos e muito vivido, encontrou algo que o fez repensar suas escolhas de vida. No bolso do uniforme de Enzo, uma carta intacta, não lida por ninguém a não ser a mente de seu próprio escritor. O envelope externo tinha um prólogo da mensagem.

"De um homem comum, para seu grande amor.

Eternamente seu marido,

Enzo V".

Ele pensou que talvez a pessoa destinada para ler aquele papel, nunca fosse receber essa carta. Mas provavelmente pôde sentir o amor de Enzo Vogrincic durante grande parte de sua vida. E sim, você sentiu. Ele sorriu, e guardou a carta novamente no mesmo bolsinho.

__________

Quase três anos de guerra depois, ele voltava. Após tanto sangue e bombardeios, o mundo tinha conseguido subir minimamente até a paz. A guerra finalmente acabou e os céus estavam limpos. Os soldados estavam animados, alguns tinham um dedo a menos, um olho ferido. Outros sequer puderam voltar vivos. Mas Enzo tinha pelo o que agradecer, depois de todo aquele tempo de agonia estava voltando para os braços de sua florcita.

Olhando para o horizonte belo atrás da janela, ele sorriu para a vida. "Me espere, pode ser na estação, ou até em nossa casinha... só me espere, minha amada. Eu voltarei hoje". E então, o trem embarcou em viagem.

Em uma manhã límpida, o sol brilhava mais, como se até ele parecesse saber da chegada da paz naquele lugar. A cidade de Montevidéu estava em um alvoroço. Mulheres de toda a cidade, sendo elas, filhas, mães, esposas, vestidas com a elegância da época e com sorrisos mais que afetuosos se reuniam na estação ferroviária do centro da cidade. Você sequer tinha conseguido dormir naquela noite, o coração quase explodindo de tanta saudade.

Colocou seu melhor vestido, um na altura dos joelhos, de um tecido de poá, muito gostoso e leve. O favorito de Enzo. Ele dizia que a florcita dele ficava mais formosa com aquele vestido. Acompanhado de um cinto fininho, é claro.

Já na estação, se podia ver muitas mulheres despedaçadas, que provavelmente já sabiam da morte de seus homens, e só esperavam o uniforme deles como uma triste e fervorosa lembrança do que eles tinham feito para um mundo melhor. Sem respostas e apenas uma esperança guardada no peito, se sentou em um banco.

"Volte para mim, meu marido. Volte que eu te tomo em meus braços". Rezava para si.

De longe era possível ouvir os cantos felizes dos soldados, as vozes roucas que ressoavam ao som de alguma música de Frank Sinatra. Mas foi no barulho da locomotiva, que então, anunciou a parada. O trem finalmente chegava em Montevidéu e de lá de dentro, a festa parecia grande.

Os soldados estavam dançando de um lado para o outro, em fim, em paz. De repente, um ajudante do motorista começou a entrar em cada um dos vagões e em todos, suas palavras calmas eram as mesmas. "Peguem suas coisas rapazes, e voltem para a felicidade". Enzo tomou aquelas palavras como suas, as repetiu para os amigos próximos, as lágrimas voltando as olhos bonitos enquanto suas mãos tremiam na alça das malas.

Sem seguir ordens ou serem finos e educados, todos eles desceram, se esbarrando e até malas caindo. E de repente não havia sequer espaço na estação. Os homens corriam e seguravam suas mulheres nos braços, beijavam suas filhas com saudades e sentiam o carinho de suas mães. Enquanto outras passavam pela dor da perda. A mala na mão de Enzo vacilou dos dedos trêmulos quando te viu e as suas pernas também. Você usava o vestido de poá favorito dele, você se lembrou. Tinha prometido que usaria exatamente aquele na volta dele.

Estava linda. Estava estonteante, como uma princesinha e as lágrimas desceram forte pelas bochechas dele. Quando estava um pouco mais perto de ti, se deixou cair. Em uns tropeços de ansiedade e o peso das bagagens trazidas, ele se deixou deslizar até os seus pés.

Com joelhos no chão, ele segurava em seu vestido, as mãos fortes até demais que pareciam só matar a saudade quando cravadas em seu corpo. "Florcita... minha amada e formosa florcita". O rosto vermelho do homem se enterrou nas suas mãos delicadas quando você resolveu se ajoelhar perante dele, ele amou sentir o seu toque outra vez, sentiu falta dele. Seus lábios se arrastaram por sua pele, ele beijou ali como se tivesse encontrado um bom minério. Com um biquinho nos lábios marcados pela demora desse reencontro, os olhos ardentes, ele sussurrou. "Eu voltei... para nós. E-eu disse que voltaria".

Rindo para os ventos da cidade, você não demorou em rodar as mãos pelo rosto de Enzo, para beijar aqueles cabelos cheios dele. Para o levantar.

Já estando de pé, o uruguaio te abraçava, te tocava com o pensamento mais leve de todos. Sabendo que ele poderia não estar mais ali, mas estava. Você deslizou um dedo pelos lábios de seu marido e logo deixou um beijo meio tímido e marejados de lágrimas ali. Manchando a boca dele, que te olhava como um bebê. "Sim! Sim, você voltou, meu querido". Exclamou.

Ganhando mais ânimo, Enzo te ergueu no ar mesmo aos beijos, e a girou contra ele em um momento quase íntimo para uma demostração pública, mas ele nem sequer se importou. Um pouco tontos, perderam o equilíbrio ali e acabaram no chão, mas aquela pequena dor não afetou nenhum dos dois. E ao invés disso, a risada de vocês se misturou com choro e contra seus lábios, em meio a um beijo do século, ele respondeu.

"Eu sou e serei eternamente seu, florcita".

Mesmo estando no chão, o soldado não resistiu em ficar assim por mais um pouco, abraçados, ele te colocou para se sentar no colo dele e acariciou seu belo rostinho. "Somente seu". Tinha um tom brincante, porém choroso em sua voz. Ele com um semblante de menino perdido, admirava-te, os seus olhos de jabuticaba madura iluminando a vida dele.

Quando estavam finalmente em casa, sem uniformes ou amarras, não demorou para cair em dengo. Em um estado de completa exaustão, o homem apenas sorriu enquanto a seguia para cada quanto da casa de vocês. Quando você descia para a cozinha, ele descia, quando ia ao banheiro ou para o quintal, ele ia igual. Naquele momento em questão, você preparava a massa do bolo favorito dele, de trigo com brigadeiro de maracujá.

Agarrado por detrás de ti, as mãos fortes de Enzo na sua cintura enquanto o rosto se entregava ao bom cheiro do perfume que marcava o seu pescoço. "Você vai fazer bolo?". Ele perguntou, olhando de mansinho para a panela.

"Vou sim, meu bem". Ele te apertou ainda mais contra ele e tudo que respondeu antes de seguir o interessante aroma de seu pescoço foi um... "Eu gosto do seu bolo".

"Todos os dias, há treze anos, você diz essa mesma frase".

"Eu sei". Beijou seu ombro delicadamente e encostando a bochecha ali, ele te olhava enquanto o bolo era preparado. Você era tão linda, a mulher mais formosa e a flor mais cheirosa de Montevidéu. A música abafada pelo rádio que precisava de consertos o animava, e ele balançava o corpo junto ao seu em meio a risadas.

Mais tarde, naquele mesmo dia ainda, Enzo adormeceu completamente no chão mesmo da sala de estar, só com a brisa do ventilador e uma calça de tecido macio, e enquanto você dobrava as roupas que estavam separadas para ir a máquina de lavar, encontrou algo que você não esperava.

A carta. Com um cuidado para não rasgá-la, desdobrou o papel para ler, mas tudo que encontrou foram as mais belas e românticas das palavras do mundo. Transcritas naquele pedaço de papel amarelo, em uma letra rebuscada e culta, a carta dizia:

"Minha doce esposa,

Sei que essas palavras podem nunca chegar até você, mas preciso escrevê-las. Preciso, pelo menos, tentar. Eu estou sentado num lugar onde a dor e o desespero tomam conta de todos. Meu ombro está ferido, mas a maior ferida está no meu peito. É o medo de não poder voltar para você.

Porque você é tudo que eu tenho de mais precioso. Sempre foi. Quando fecho os olhos, vejo seus olhinhos de jabuticaba brilhando, vejo os cachinhos que você enrola nos bobs com tanto cuidado... E meu coração dói por saber que posso nunca mais tocar seu rosto.

Eu rezo para que Deus me permita voltar, para que eu possa segurar as tuas mãos de novo. Mas, se isso não acontecer, saiba que te amei com cada parte de mim. Você é a razão de eu estar aqui hoje, lutando. De eu ser quem sou.

Eu queria poder te abraçar agora, sentir seu cheiro, ouvir sua risada... Você é surreal, minha florcita, etérea demais. Minha mulherzinha. Se eu não voltar, por favor, prometa que será feliz. Viva por nós dois.

Com todo o amor que cabe em meu peito,

Enzo V".

E então, você chorou. Por ler o medo de Enzo de te perder, pelo sentimento tão latente que ele ainda tinha por você. Sempre teria. Porque soldado ou não, Enzo Vogrincic, não poderia em nenhuma circunstância, ser definido de outra maneira a não ser, completamente seu.

A carta foi guardada na gaveta da cômoda, entre as suas vestes, segura e que você um dia, diria abertamente a ele que havia sido tocada por suas palavras.

Bônus.

Quando finalmente então, Enzo acordou, a casinha estava em um silêncio confortável. A sala de estar era iluminada apenas por um pequeno abajur, seu corpo estava coberto por um macio lençol que você havia deixado sobre ele ainda quando era cedo. Ele sentia sua cabeça pesada, ainda um pouco grogue graças ao sono e com alguns segundos de recobrar o equilíbrio, se ergueu. O uruguaio te chamou uma vez, "Florcita". Te chamou outra. E você nada.

Com um bico do tamanho do mundo nos lábios, andou de um lado para o outro nos cômodos da casa, foi ao banheiro da área de baixo, na cozinha, no quintal. Logo, só restava um lugar, o quarto de vocês.

"Florcita? Minha formosa florcita?". Disse ao entrar, batendo na porta baixinho para avisar da sua presença. E você não estava na cama. Pensando um pouquinho onde estaria, ele se surpreendeu com o barulho do chuveiro caindo no azulejo do banheiro. Sorriu.

Vogrincic sentiu o seu pobre coração quase parar. Tirando a calça do seu pijama e a cueca junto, o homem caminhou nu até o banheiro com passos de cachorrinho, leves e que não fossem bem ouvidos por você.

Assim que entrou, derreteu completamente com a visão de você. Com o shampoo no cabelo, os olhinhos fechados. A mente dele não conseguia processar direito quando olhava para você. Seu corpo era muito, para um homem tão pouco como ele. Ele caminhou e entrou no box, tomando o seu corpo nos braços dele.

"Enzo!". Você gritou surpresa, apertando ainda mais os seus olhos.

Ele beijou seu pescoçinho, deslizando devagar a língua ali e deixando uma marquinha vermelinha, te trazendo cada vez mais contra ele. "Oi", sussurrou todo carente. "Preciso de você... deixa eu te comer, florcita". Pediu. Ele lhe ajudou a tirar o shampoo e suspirou quando você abriu um olho.

Sua cabeça encostou no peito dele, quando o uruguaio a prendeu contra a parede. Aquele seu olhar, aquela maldita transição entre a sua doçura usual e o tesão deixava ele completamente aos seus pés. Podia fazer tudo que você o pedisse. Ele ficou assim agarradinho por alguns minutos, mas não demorou para sentir o pau dele roçando a parte interna de sua coxa.

"Deixa, florcita... eu preciso sentir você me apertando... por favor".

Acenando suavemente, você percebeu como os olhos dele te admiravam por completo, as sobrancelhas franzida quase como se implorasse para foder você depois de dois anos e nove meses longe por conta daquela miserável guerra. Você talvez, não soubesse como fazia feliz a esse uruguaio, você ser a mulher dele. Como ele poderia morrer, mas não viver sem você.

Enzo te pegou no colo com uma facilidade indescritível, sem dar a mínima para o banho, desligou o chuveiro. Ele te guiou até a cama, a deitando com aquele carinho que foi sempre parte dos momentos quentes de vocês. A expressão amoada, de pobre coitado, denunciava o amor que residia naquele homem louco por você.

Ele se sentou na cama, as pernas grossonas bem abertas para que você pudesse encaixar a sua bucetinha no pau dele com a extrema perfeição. "Vem, senta em mim, mi florcita".

Com uma risadinha, que levou o arzinho da sua respiração para o rosto dele pela proximidade, você engatinhou para se sentar no colo do seu marido, uma perninha de cada lado antes de segurar o membro dele daquele jeitinho que o fazia agarrar mais forte seu quadril, e gemer baixinho e rouco no seu ouvido. Sem fazer muito alarde, você o encaixou no seu buraquinho carente, e sentou nele para que ele sentisse seu apertinho. O que você fazia com ele, a forma como você se movia sobre ele, como acelerava e desacelerava e encaixava o pau dele todinho dentro de você o deixava alucinando. Você era a dona daquele homem.

"M-mi amor... assim- eu te amo". Ele gemia, se encostando na cabeceira da cama, como quem sabe a esposa que tem, apenas relaxando enquanto você montava em Enzo com o conhecimento de quem tem um homem na palma da sua mão.

Seus gemidos faziam ele gemer mais, e suas mãos no peito dele faziam as dele apertar ainda mais seu quadril. Você acelerava, cada cavalgada que carregava menos fôlego, porém mais velocidade.

E no fim da noite, depois de quase três anos de angústia tenebrosa, Enzo Vogrincic se sentia realizado por estar de volta. Dormindo bem agarradinhos, o pau do homem ainda dentro de você, ele sabia que tinha o ouro da vida.

Você adormeceu de conchinha com ele e ainda de olhos abertos, mas quase caindo em sono, ele deixou um beijo na sua bochecha. "Até amanhã, esposa. Irei sonhar com você".

^᪲𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄 — Prontinho, revisado e depois de muitas lágrimas. Espero que esteja ao seu gosto, @lilablanc.

something that is so canon? loser! rodrick’s cool girlfriend being everybody’s favorite person in some way shape or form.

come on, rodrick is such a loser for you already. his heart thumping out of his chest at the smallest look of you even though you’ve been dating for so long. of course, everyone around him adores you!

manny loves to give you grabby hands when your even remotely close to him. he’ll babble and say your name so cutely until you give in and sit him on your hip. even when you’re even simply being mentioned he’s grinning and repeating your name.

greg who prefers you over his older brother. you’re always on his side and so so nice to him. always giving him a smile that makes him a bit dazed every time he sees you. so dazed that, him and his friends have developed a small crushes on you. all of them always waving when they see you so they get a smile. especially rowely who smiles the biggest and chirag who gives you the most unique compliments. you never hear but everytime chirag sees you and rodrick together, he always gives the slyest comments like, “if he has a chance with her, we all might not be doomed.”

rodrick’s band mates who say they hate you but deep down don’t. they hate that you can take him away from practice with just a simple call or text but you have to remember they’re losers just like your boyfriend so of course they droll all over you. always questioning how their leader got someone so pretty and they can’t.

susan adores you. there is never a day where she hasn’t complimented something about you when she sees you. asks you all the time to come do things with her that her boys won’t. shows you embarrassing photos of rodrick when he was younger and laughs at them with you. and yes, she has secretly thought about how cute your kids will be.

frank who always has this puzzled look on his face when he sees you because are you a robot secretly? how are you in love with rodrick of all people? always tenses up and gives you a sheepish smile when rodrick says something stupid, almost hoping you didn’t hear it and won’t leave him. wants you to stay forever so rodrick won’t throw anymore stupid parties.

Carlos | December 8, 2024 / Abu Dhabi GP 2024 © Ferrari.com

on your marks - get set - go. enzo vogrincic x fem!reader

fem!reader, enzo vogrincic x reader, fluff.

cw: quase-atropelamento. mas fica tudo bem!

sinopse: é seu primeiro dia em montevideo e tudo estaria bem se não tivessem tentado te atropelar com uma bicicleta.

wn: pra anon que me pediu uma fic do enzo atropelando a reader (kkkk) e pra @parisandi que me pediu um imagine com a reader brasileira <3 uma besteirinha boba e fofinha. gosto desse enzo assim mais maluquete.

você só teve tempo de gritar, em alto e bom português, um para desesperado seguido por um olha por onde anda bem mal educado. sinceramente, não havia jeito melhor de começar seu primeiro dia vivendo em montevideo. e olha que você nem estava no lugar errado - seu corpo e pés bem direitinhos na faixa de pedestres, longe da ciclo-faixa.

o motivo do seu quase-semi-atropelamento deu o freio na bicicleta e começou a voltar de ré até o lugar da quase-semi-colisão. esperava que o babaca estivesse vindo te pedir desculpas, porque, se ele viesse querendo brigar, ia escutar umas poucas e boas. e no seu portunhol quebrado, o que tinha certeza que ia ser ainda pior para ele.

quando o rapaz ergueu a cabeça, finalmente virando o corpo para trás para te encarar, seu coração errou uma batida. era sinceramente um dos homens mais lindos que já tinha visto na vida.

ele desceu da bike, virando o corpo totalmente para você e sem qualquer noção de espaço pessoal, segurou suas bochechas com as mãos, como se te examinasse. virou seu rosto para o lado, para o outro, levantou e abaixou seu queixo.

quando se deu por satisfeito, te deu um selinho breve nos lábios. você só conseguiu encará-lo de volta. "bom, pelo que eu pude verificar, não tem nada quebrado. mais cuidado na próxima vez, eh, nena?"

você balançou a cabeça, agora com seu próprio corpo e sem ajuda daquela mão gigantesca, bufando o peito. "primeiro que nena é sua avó..."

foi interrompida por uma risada cheia, sincera. queria fazer cosquinhas no homem até ele soltar mais e mais daquelas risadas. mas tinha que focar. agora não era momento de desejá-lo. era momento de brigar com ele.

"é nona, no caso, se fosse italiana. não é o caso. é uruguaia por um lado."

ignorou completamente o comentário fofo. permaneceu firme.

"como eu dizia, nena é a puta que te pariu." aguardou um retorno espertinho, mas dessa vez, ele permaneceu calado com aquele sorriso encantador nos lábios. ridículo. "e segundo, você tem que tomar cuidado. quase me atropelou!" apontou enfaticamente para seu próprio corpo e para a bicicleta dele.

"disse certo, quase. e eu já te perdoei por isso. vamos, nena, você toma um café comigo e esquecemos disso." e deu de ombros, te puxando pela mão com a direita e usando a esquerda para guiar a bicicleta até o bicicletário de uma cafeteria que estava a menos de alguns metros de vocês.

você seguia incrédula, sendo arrastada sem colocar um trabalho ou um boneco se quer.

"é sério isso? você vai me pagar um café depois de quase ter me atropelado? me deu um beijo e nem sabe meu nome!" o rapaz soltou suas mãos, tirando quase que um suspiro triste de você, para prender a bicicleta com cuidado.

"seu nome eu não sei, mas o meu é enzo." enzo. parecia doce na sua boca. você comentou o seu em voz baixa e ele repetiu algumas vezes antes de levantar o corpo, depois de ter prendido o veículo, ajeitando os cabelos. "não disse nada sobre pagar o seu café. mas se a gente namorar, eu penso."

"já está me pedindo em namoro?"

"ficou parecendo outra coisa?"

você riu junto com enzo, absolutamente incrédula. bom, parecia que seu primeiro dia em montevideo já tinha sido bom o suficiente pra te dar um namorado.

Hi I hope you're doing well! Anyways, how do you think the four boys (Dwayne, David, Marko, Paul) would react if we just ran away, like went to our friends house and refused to come back to the cave? Also what punishments do they give, like after we ran away and in general? Also sorry if my grammer is bad English isn't my first language, anyways have a good day/night!

Running away headcannons

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Hey I’m doing great thanks! Your English is very good- I couldn’t tell you weren’t a native speaker :)

Warnings- Choking, Yandere behaviour, Confinement, Psychological abuse, Dehumanisation

• I think it’s safe to say all four of your fathers would be absolutely LIVID if you ran away.

• They genuinely don’t understand why you would even think to do something so senseless. After all, it was them who saved you from your biological family when you first moved to Santa Carla.

• Not only that, but you had also stolen Dwayne’s bike (his being the obvious choice, as you spent the most time on it).

• They discovered your absence a few hours after you had snuck out, but couldn’t go after you due to the burning rays of the July sun.

• Meanwhile, you had found yourself at Bethany’s house. She knew enough about your parents to gladly let you stay as long as you need, despite your warnings about how dangerous they are.

• Coming back to the boys, I think their individual reactions would vary. Dwayne would be more worried than pissed off. The thought of his baby girl being out there alone without their protection fills him with this hopeless dread. He’s not even mad about the bike because he’s so scared that you’ve crashed somewhere and are lying under a mangled pile of metal, injured and alone.

• Marko is also terrified for you. As I’ve said before, he’s in denial about you growing up, so he won’t even entertain the idea that you might be able to look after yourself. He’s not used to being afraid. Out of everyone in the pack it’s generally agreed that Marko is the most sadistic and violent when it comes to preying on humans. He thrives off of scaring people (you included) so the fact that you are scaring him makes him angry.

• He finds himself pacing the cave, eyes shining a brilliant yellow and fangs on display as he pictures the moment they find you. David eventually has to tell him to knock it off or he’ll tire himself out before nightfall.

• Speaking of David, I think that out of everyone he’d be the least panicky. That’s not to say he isn’t worried about you, but he understands you better than the others do. He knows that it takes careful planning to pull off a stunt like this, and you aren’t stupid enough to get yourself caught up in anything too dangerous.

• This stems from the fact that David’s obsession with you doesn’t come from a deep rooted paternal desire like it does for the others. Sure, he loves you as his daughter and feels a strong sense of pride that they were the ones to mould you into who you are today, but it’s more complicated than that.

• The more you grow, the more he sees himself and the others within you, but beneath all that is someone else. A small fragment of a broken child waiting to spiral into something else. That’s what intrigues him. That hidden part of you locked behind years of painful love and comforting abuse.

• Paul’s reaction is a lot simpler than David’s. He feels guilty that their previous argument with you has led to you doing something so drastic. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just doesn’t trust all the creepy men around that could hurt you.

• I don’t think he’d be on the verge of a complete meltdown like Dwayne and Marko, but he’d definitely be on edge, with a million different scenarios playing out through his head.

• Once the sun is finally down, it wouldn’t take them long to find you. You weren’t stupid enough to leave Dwayne’s bike right outside Bethany’s house, but it was still close enough for your fathers to track you down with relative ease.

• The only problem they faced was actually getting to you. Vampires have to be invited inside, and there was no way Bethany’s mother was going to let in a group of leather clad punks demanding to see their fifteen year old daughter.

• So naturally, they went to Max and begged asked him to politely introduce himself as your uncle and bring you home.

• Of course, with his charming nature Max had no problem getting invited into Bethany’s home.

• In all fairness, he didn’t lie. Sure, he had left out the part where Marko choked you until you were on the verge of passing out, but nothing he did say was untrue. It was more just a careful avoidance of certain details.

• You knew you were in deep shit when you came downstairs for dinner and saw your uncle sat at the table with a plate of lasagne of his own.

• It was an awkward dinner, well for you at least. Beth’s mum seemed pretty into Max, and he clearly loved the attention.

• Once the meal was over, Max announced that he would be taking you home, his tone stern- a subtle warning for you not to argue.

• So you didn’t argue. At least, not until you were out of Bethany’s house.

• As soon as her door clicked shut you bolted.

• It was a stupid idea really. Max’s car was parked right outside the driveway, so even if you did manage to get away from him, he’d easily be able to chase you down in the vehicle.

• It wasn’t Max who caught you though. In fact, he made little effort to chase you as you ran.

• That didn’t strike you as odd until the street you were sprinting down was suddenly lit by a harsh white light.

• For a moment you thought it was a car speeding towards you, but as your eyes adjusted it became clear that there were three beams of light, not two.

• Your fathers had been waiting round the corner for you and Max.

• You, being a stubborn teenager, didn’t stop running. You ignored the aggressive revving of their engines and legged it down the road.

• The gleaming headlights honed in on you, allowing no darkness to conceal your desperate escape.

• Their bikes almost seemed to leap forwards after you, as if they were an extension of your fathers, feeding from their obsessions.

• It only took a matter of seconds for them to catch up to you, even after you veered from the road and tried to make a break for the forest at the end of the street.

• They had you surrounded in an instant. David in front, Marko to your right and Dwayne and Paul sharing a bike to your left.

• Perhaps you would have found the sight amusing if it wasn’t for that look in their eyes.

• This must have been what it felt like to be a deer. Trapped under the gazes of four hungry wolves, with your only advantage being your primal fear of being dragged back to the cave- something that you knew would be your inevitable fate.

• Despite the futility of the situation, you still tried to break past them, spinning on your heel and dashing to the gap between Marko and David’s bikes.

• For a fleeting second you truly believed you had succeeded in getting past them, but then a hand snared in the neck of your top and yanked you back.

• The force of it pulled you to the ground, where you lay momentarily stunned, choking for air.

• David was quick the dismount his bike, crouching over where you lay on the sidewalk.

• There was nothing you could do except stare up at him, dazed as he pulled you to your feet and forced you onto the back of his bike.

• They didn’t speak to you on the ride back, only stopping once to pick up Dwayne’s discarded bike (after you’d been forced to hand over the keys).

• The only conversation was between Marko and Paul, who seemed almost giddy to return to the cave. You expected that from Marko, always the sadist, but Paul? That stung a little. You supposed he was just feeding off of his mate’s energy.

• David was clearly pissed off. You were surprised he hadn’t berated you yet, but it seemed as though he was waiting to get home for your punishment.

• As for Dwayne, you could tell he was deeply disappointed that you had even wanted to leave them, let alone actually do it.

• When it comes to punishments, David is usually in charge. He’s the leader of the pack and therefore creates the rules and enforces them the most out of everyone.

• The only exception being when Marko occasionally decides to make a new rule without telling any of the others so when you inevitably break it, he punishes you.

• There was a lot of debate between them about what the punishment for running away should be.

• Dwayne was more inclined to taking away certain privileges. No trips to the boardwalk, no choice in what you get to eat, no visiting Uncle Max and Thorn, etc.

• Marko would rather just break your legs. It solves the issue of you running away in the future and makes you completely dependent on them, solidifying how much you need your fathers to help you.

• In the end though, David gets the final call. He decided that if you don’t want to be around them then fine, but it won’t be in your terms.

• They left you chained up like a dog in a secluded part of the cave- far from where your fathers would be spending much of their time.

• You were left there for two months, only seeing David once a day when he brought you a bottle of water and a ham sandwich.

• Being treated like an animal slowly chips away at your sanity. David’s silent glare and the bland flavours of your basic meal are the only markers of the time spend in the darkness.

• The chain around your ankle feels heavier the longer you’re there. Your weight loss making you weaker by the day as you almost forget that Dwayne, Marko and Paul must be somewhere in the cave as well.

• You wondered if they thought about you as little as you thought about them.

• It felt like years before David finally brought a key along with your meagre meal.

• He watched silently as you ate your sandwich. You kept your gaze averted, staring at those cold leather boots as you chewed your way through the stale bread.

• “Not in the mood for talkin’ huh?”

• David twisted the keys around between his fingers. Your silence wasn’t much of a surprise to him, after all it had been a whole two months since you had spoken to him or your other fathers. He briefly wondered if you’d been talking to yourself to cope with the loneliness.

• How much damage could enough isolation do to a person?

• The chain unlocked with a small click, but you still made no effort to move.

• David sighed and cupped your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “You’re free now, punishment’s over. Cmon, the others have missed you.”

• You let him help you stand up- something you hadn’t done it a long time.

• David guided you back to the main area where Dwayne, Marko and Paul waited restlessly to see you again.

• Dwayne was the first to rush over to you, enveloping you in a big hug. You didn’t return it. It was hard to feel anything but the cold chill that still remained after those two long months.

• Your fathers were quick to wrap you in a thick blanket and curl up on the couch. Marko was practically spoon feeding you the bolognaise they had prepared earlier that day, but you hardly noticed.

• No one admitted it out loud, but it was clear that your isolation had scarred you a lot worse than a pair of broken legs from Marko would’ve.

• They were going to need to put in a lot of work to get you back.

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @ursinaw @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic

(If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list then lmk!)

What happens if you pull their tail softly while making out? Avatar headcanons

Characters: Jake Sully, Neytiri, Norm, Tsu’tey

Warnings: mature themes, suggestive content and I don’t know what else.

NSFWish under the cut!

Jake Sully

This man in horny as hell, so making out is literally your daily routine.

If you ever dare to pull his tail softly, at first you will hear him moan. Probably will become putty in your hands. He is sooo desperate for that feeling.

He literally will beg you every time to pull his tail after that. And you will do it or he will beg with his lip quivering.

Whiny Jake at 100%

Instead of asking, sometimes his tail will move around you, waiting to be caught.

This man will love it. And pulling his tail will lead to a sex session instead of just make out.

Neytiri

Ngl at first you will get hissed at, maybe she wasn’t expecting it, maybe it surprised her.

She will eventually like it. She will move her tail close to you while making out, letting you know that you should do it again.

I don’t make the rules, she moans, really softly with it. Almost a whine.

That gets her going and usually gets the make out sesión not the next level.

Not her favorite thing but she does enjoy it very much.

Norm

He will be pretty surprised, even as an avid Avatar user, this new sensations catch him off guard.

Probably really flustered about it, even a little bit of stutter.

“Ba-babe! Why you do that?” Really whiny

Secretly loves it.

Doesn’t ask you to stop, but he will act as if it is offensive.

He gets fidgety with his tail more often, knowing that if you see him you’ll play too. He is just trying to “innocently” make you play with his tail without him having to say it.

Tsu’tey

He hissed loud af at first. Like, this man’s instinct of fight or fight (fight or flight isn’t in his vocab) is always alert.

Having something so intimate as a make out session with you makes him fill vulnerable. So at first he just gets startled.

Then he likes it. “Do it again” he demands, his kisses, stronger but gentler.

Do as he says, just DO IT. He is a whiny baby, behind that tough guy facade. Deep down, there is a whiny touch-starved baby.

Pull his tail once and he will plan on mating you.

okay but imagine this . . .

you get hired to babysit manny for the night—just manny, susan assures you—but as soon as you walk through the door, it’s clear you’ve inherited all three heffley boys.

greg follows you like around like a puppy. he talks nonstop about how middle school is full of “juvenile morons” and how people say he’s “wise beyond his years” (no one has ever said that). he keeps trying to bring up high school drama he barely understands.

rodrick clearly didn’t know you were coming, because when he sees you, he immediately vanishes upstairs. a few minutes later, he reappears—wearing heavy eyeliner and smelling like half a can of axe. (“oh, didn’t know you were here tonight,”) he orders pizza, leans over the back of the couch and tries to impress you by talking about his band.

manny is barely a factor. (greg handed over a sleeve of cookies and let him play with his gameboy in exchange)

when susan and frank finally get home, the house is unusually quiet and suspiciously tidy. manny’s already in bed, and greg is wiping down the counter. rodrick, of all things, is vacuuming the living room. frank stands in the doorway, eyeing his sons like he’s trying to figure out if they’ve been replaced by aliens.

susan thanks you with a smile, handing you your payment, and the boys? they’re already plotting to make sure you come back next week.