#( amiable smiles ) / * interactions .

[eccentricallygothic]

Sunshine

Pairing: Recovering Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes | Lab technician!You.

Description: As Shuri's top and most emotionally intelligent technician, you are the one Bucky ends up opening up to during his recovery in Wakanda… And then some.

Warning(s): Top Bucky, bottom reader, his vibranium arm, inexperienced reader, experienced Bucky, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, allusions to unprotected p-in-v sex, nipple biting, kissing, virgin reader, smut with plot, reader and Bucky like each other, brief mentions of his Winter Soldier days, age gap, teasing, humiliation, size kink, allusions to dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms, here.

Note: Can you tell I am obsessed with the arm?

MASTERLIST

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It was usual for Bucky's corner of residence to remain deserted. He was still relatively new to Wakanda and people had heard enough tales about his past life to not welcome him with too much hospitality. They didn't take too warm heartedly to outsiders as it was. And a former killing machine was… well, you guessed it. But you were not sure that Bucky really minded. Apart from the bond he had formed with you -very slowly and steadily, might you add- during his therapy in Shuri's lab, you had observed he preferred being by his lonesome and did not mind the isolation.

The more you found out about him, the more you reckoned he probably needed it.

That was the reason why you felt guilt nip at your cheeks when you heard some leaves rustle behind you and when you instinctively turned to see what it was, you found no one other than Bucky staring back at you. Momentary panic settled in your bones but before you could try and ramble your case and embarrass yourself any more, Bucky offered you a small and friendly smile. You had no idea what it was about him that made you all shy and mum because usually you were a very confident and forthcoming person. You were Shuri's top technician after all. But there was something about the way Bucky's blue eyes watched you, how they flickered down your face just momentarily at times, the manner in which his lashes flexed if he looked further down south, and how his tongue subconsciously swiped across his lips during a conversation sometimes. 

It spread warmth throughout your whole body.

… Like right now.

“The… stars are so bright tonight” you tried your best to mask the awkwardness with a casual amiability. What? Bucky made you feel nervous, alright?  

The male only hummed in agreement as he quietly took a perch beside you, letting his longer legs down the edge of the lake that ran behind his cabin and letting his now bare feet touch the water that everyone used for swimming and fun.

The two of you stayed like that for a little bit, Bucky had never been much of a conversationalist in all the time you had known him and it was always you who had to prompt him to speak or engage in casual talk or even a discussion. A content smile played at your lips while you gazed up at the stars. You liked his corner of the land. It was very calming and serene. Perhaps even more so than the rest of Wakanda. Or so you felt.

It was Bucky's corner after all.

“So… how's the new arm?” You nodded towards the black and gold vibranium arm that the lab had finalized after various meticulous precautions and measurements while giving him the best mental and even physical therapy possible all the while. Shuri had called in Bucky this afternoon to finally install it into the socket you and other technicians had built into his side. After one last test to see if his HYDRA conditioning really was gone for good, it had been you who had with the use of tender and nimble fingers locked the arm into place. It had been a rather emotional moment and you were the only tech Bucky had allowed to touch him. Since he had never been allowed any liberty in his past life, Shuri made sure you all respected the man's comfort first and foremost.

You could never have a problem with that. 

“Pretty good, actually” your eyes followed the glint of the moonlight bouncing off the bionic limb as he flexed his fingers and slowly twirled his arm for you to see. “More comfortable too” you were a nerd so it got you excited. And no, the fashion in which the digits of his new hand had stretched had nothing to do with it.

“Yes! Shuri actually wanted to use…” You began the technical ramble Bucky didn't really understand but didn't mind either. “I suggested we instead use…” And it wasn't sympathy humming either, you had learnt that the Soldier had retained his sassy side and if you were boring him out, he had his quiet ways of giving you a shut up call. “Because I knew that it would bite on your skin…” You hadn't realized just how close you had scooted into Bucky and the way you were cradling his vibranium arm and its various crevices while it laid in your lap until his hot breath fanned some of the stray strands away from your face. “S- So…” Your voice wavered from the hyperawareness all of a sudden, eyes flickering down to his lips before you could stop them and your no longer coherent words quivered. “I- I… she… we…” A breathless chuckle escaped him.

“Y/n?”

“Bucky?” You tried to focus and as a result ended up widening your eyes so much that you looked like a fish out of water. What? Straight A bookworms like you didn't enjoy the luxury of knowing their way around the sex of interest. 

“Shut up” his words were outwardly blunt but the tone in which he said them, the half smile which made his lips handsomely droop to one side and the manner in which he leaned in soon after stopped you from getting offended just in time. Though you couldn't really visualize yourself getting mad at him anyways. 

“Okay, Bucky” was all you were allowed to blurt out before his pleasantly soft lips pressed against yours. You whimpered into his mouth from how tender the kiss was and how delicate he was about it. You had no idea what you were expecting and if you were even expecting something, but something so soft coming from a man with a stature like Bucky's, you were taken by a pleasant surprise. The kiss was warm and meaningful.

… But way too short. 

You gasped once you came to your senses and realized the gravity of the situation. You were kissing Bucky fucking Barnes! The kiss had been rather brief– too brief, but it had also felt like an eternity at the same time due to how your brain had declined you of its service.

Bucky was taken aback by your gasp and now a guilty panic began to mar his handsome features. “I… am sorry…” He wasn't as inexperienced as you but there were generations and years of lack of practice between you two and self doubt began to fill him. “I–” you vehemently shook your head when he began to back away.

“N- No! No, no!” You repeated desperately. “No, Bucky!” You finally had him after months of secret wondering and longing and you were not about to let it go. “No!” So you leaned in yourself this time and hurriedly pecked his lips before pulling back a little to look at him to see if he was still comfortable with it. The next kiss you pressed to his lips was admittedly one that caused for guilt to knot up in your chest because his expression had been difficult to read and in case he didn't want to take this any further, you needed to feel him one last time. 

Bucky wordlessly kissed you again and you didn't give him a chance to back away this time. And after that it was a passionate tussle of your hands and lips pulling and sucking down at one another until you were both undressed in Bucky's bed, tangled together. 

Bucky's vibranium fingers cupped the side of your face as he put his hot tongue into the kiss. You were laying down on your back in the middle of the bed and his huge form was bent over you, one knee pushed between your legs. The man knew how to kiss and he certainly knew how to eat, it was clear from how his tongue pressed against yours before it went to explore the rest of your mouth. The way he swirled it around your own sent heat and shivers down your abdomen and straight to your core that had begun to pulsate when you were still outside. 

“Tell me, doll,” his guttural voice made you moan into his mouth when he let his bionic fingers trail down the side of your body before they found a hold in the soft cut between your hip and torso. “Did you fantasize about me touching your pretty body like this when you used to ‘inspect’ the arm, hm?” You blushed severely. Bucky knew a slut when he saw her. Even the shy little inexperienced ones like yourself. He was twice your age and had ten times more experience. 

“B- Bucky…” You felt called out as your ticklish palms -courtesy of his stubble- began to moisten up from the shame his words made you feel. 

“Are you really gonna deny it?” His voice was low and sexily lewd. That tongue of his did the sexy thing again where he ran it along his flush lower lip and your thighs quivered in response to the visual. “Because I've seen the way you used to look at it… The way you looked at it today…” Images of him flexing his fingers as trial from earlier today appeared before your eyes and you couldn't help but wonder if you would feel them tonight. Or how they'd feel if one was to get lucky with him. The thoughts made you want to tighten your thighs against one another, only his knee hindered your wishes. 

“Bucky…” It was a whine this time and he chuckled. 

“Aw, what is it, huh baby?” He hungrily kissed your lips again before he pulled back just enough so he could be audible but not so much that the spit string between your mouths would break. “Tell me and I'll give it to you” you surprised yourself by placing your hand over his and eagerly pushing it down towards your aching pussy. Bucky snickered. “Is that what you want, pretty girl? My fingers in between these sexy little legs of yours?” You sheepishly nodded but said nothing, rolling your hips from the surge of lava his deep voice was causing in your loins. “I am sorry, baby. But this won't do” he clicked his tongue as he pretended to pull away. 

“W- What?!” Your imploration was unintentionally loud. “Why?!”  

The coral of his eyes had become so much darker than when he had first kissed you. “Because you must use your words for me first” his body weight rested on his elbow as he stroked your face with his right hand, speaking in the tone of a man addressing a child. “Tell me what you want” his metal fingers kneaded the tender flesh of your hip as his lips pressed against you in a series of pecks. 

You softly pouted. “B- Bucky!” The whine you let out was accusatory in nature. Because he knew exactly what you wanted. 

“Aw” he mimicked your pout. This man was so different from the recovering sunshine you had known before this night. The disparity caused for a drop of hot arousal to bubble past your opening. “Would you look at this pouty little thing here?” His thumb traced the shape of your bottom lip before he pressed it down with the tip. 

“P- Please…” He was being so mean. It embarrassed you. But it also added to your arousal. 

Bucky was making you work for it. 

“I know, baby. I know…” He pressed kisses along your jaw in consolation, metal fingers coming up to toy with the swells on your chest. “Pretty things like you aren't used to putting in much work, are they?” Well, no. Simply because this was the most action you had ever gotten. But it made your pussy throb nevertheless. “Well, that's not how things work around here, baby. You gotta tell me how you want me first” you whined past the thick bile in your throat but Bucky did not relent, instead choosing to intently watch you until you caved to him and your need. 

He could do that for the rest of eternity anyways.

“F- Fine…” Your voice was a begrudging whisper once you realized there was no way out. 

“‘Atta girl, go ahead…” His voice was a much agreeable velvet. 

“N- Need you…” You cleared your throat since you were barely audible. “Need you, Bucky” your back arched in shock and a whimper escaped you when you went to place your smaller hand on his bionic one to guide it to your pussy only to him twist your nipple that he had been fingering at the very last moment. 

“I am sorry, what was that?” The clamber in his breathing rate signaled that he had heard you loud and clear. But he just wanted to be cruel to your dignity. 

You were on the verge of tears. “Need you, Bucky!” Before you forced his hand down your body again. “... D- Down there!” The lower part of your abdomen was thumping like it did when you had first discovered the state of arousal. 

“Down where?” You felt like screaming at the tease in his tone.

“Y- You know where!”

“Do I?” 

You hissed. “Down there!” You made him cup your pussy. “Here! Right here!” Your breath quivered at the feel of the metal brushing past your sensitive petals. “B- Between… between… Ah!” Your blood curdled at the wanton moan you let out, surprised by your own ability to make such a sound. 

“Oh, so you mean this cute little pussy, huh?” His bionic digits finally spread themselves over your needy core and your mind nearly melted out of your ears. 

“Y- Yes!” You breathily admitted, flinging your head to the side as you gripped his shoulders from the sensory overload, your hardened nipples grazing against his hairy chest. 

Bucky tutted like the teasing asshole he was. “You gotta say it, baby” his fingers squished their way between your pussy lips and the feel of the textured digit running down the stripe between them had you shuddering. “Say it properly. Tell me you need me in this cute little pussy of yours” when you whined in protest, he licked a stripe on the side of your mouth and then sealed it with a hot kiss. “You can do it, pretty girl. You're already doing so well for me” his words had caused you to make a puddle of warm white liquid on his bed. But Bucky didn't seem to mind. “Come on.” 

“N- Need you in m- my…” Your throat dried out and your voice remained absent until Bucky hummed in an encouraging manner and dipped his head between your head and shoulder to pepper kisses along your sensitive throat, metal fingers flexing over your pussy in a rapid, circular design. Your smaller body quivered under his, knees buckling up to press into his sides from the sensitivity of it all. “Need you in my c- cute little pussy so bad– oh!” Your back jerked itself straight when Bucky's middle finger found its way into your weeping cunt all of a sudden.

“Sorry, whose cute little pussy?” His friendly smile had any intentions but.

“M- My cute little pussy!” Your toes curled at your own words.

“See, baby?” His teeth that were busy marking you his grazed against the soft skin of your neck. “That wasn't so hard now, was it?” 

“Oh, Bucky!” He scooped you up against his chest with his other arm and crawled with you until your head was on his pillow and he was hovering above you. Your lips were parted and your balmy pussy was tight around his finger that fucked in and out of you as a steady pace. 

“I think we have ourselves a problem here, doll” Bucky rasped as he tickled your clit with thumb, adding another finger to your opening. You were so wet that despite the tightness of the band, the metal digit slid right in. 

You couldn't help but rock your hips against his hand, your own stroking his arm that rested on your torso while he played with your nipples. “W- What problem?” Any volume above what classified as whispering was impossible for you in your lust dumb and still shy state.

“Your pussy is too tiny for me” and that night you lived to learn that he was right. 

Minutes– no, hours had gone into Bucky opening you up and preparing you for his girth, shushing and consoling you with kisses and praises before your taking. Though you had been insistent that he not stop what he was doing because of how good it felt, tears and snot had admittedly been spilled. 

But the way his thick cock had filled you up to the brim so completely, the manner in which all its crevices had pressed against your tight velvet walls, the fashion in which his tip had created for itself a sensitive spot deep up your cavern, the affectionate and intimate style in how Bucky had snaked his vibranium arm around your form to hold you close against him while his hips had done their eventually brutal work and the length of his cock had rapidly fucked in and out of your stretched out cunt, your fingers tugging at his dark locks whilst his mouth marked you everywhere he desired, the pleasure you felt from the sting his mouth produced, and the bobbing of your knees which lay atop his against his sides… the orgasms had been loud and many. 

Though when the two of you exited his cabin the next morning and entered the line of sight of your employer who was both surprised and impatient by your being late to work for the first time ever, the mangled expressions of passion from the night before were present on neither of your faces, content smiles having replaced them.

You had high hope it was going to stay that way.

.

[teastainedprose]

Breaking Point (Homelander x reader)

Homelander delights in teasing you until he needles you too much on the wrong day. 1.5k words | Jerk Homelander to guilty Homelander, hurt/comfort if you squint. Homelander x gn!reader, implied chronic pain reader, implied plus-sized reader, [A03]

You are so soft. Your flesh gives under his grasp when he yanks you by the arm, careless with how it makes you stumble. Homelander laughs mockingly at the small, annoyed twitch of your lip as he tugs you close. Too close.

"Hey. Where are those new poll results, sweetheart?" The words are a purr, warm breath a caress against your cheek as he looms too close to be proper. Everything done with calculated intent to pull a reaction from you.

You stare blankly up at him, expression schooled neutral. You're used to this game. You've watched other employees crack and fracture under the pressure Homelander exerts. You refuse. You're made of sterner stuff, a master of hiding how you're honestly feeling.

He knows he gets to you, but you rarely let it show on the outside. You can school your face, but there's no controlling how he makes your heart hammer in your chest. How being so close to him sets your nerves alight in a pleasant sensation. Homelander leers down at you, pleased at how your pulse skitters under his scrutiny. He releases you, stepping back as the persona of a proper gentleman settles into place. Homelander smiles as he waits for your reply, the well-practiced one that the cameras always catch.

You're quick to give Homelander an indulgent smile back. An exchange of fake expressions as the two of you play nice. You look so placid and calm before him, but Homelander knows better. He can hear your heart jumping in your chest.

"I can pull them up for you right now if you want?" You reply, the words even and calm as you look up expectantly. You're too tired to deal with any bullshit. Homelander's included. You're always too tired.

In his eyes you're so amiable, so sweet. So disgusting. Your response isn't what he wants.  It's controlled and that's no fun. He's not satisfied with your performance. Homelander sneers, whirling away with a flutter of his cape. "Never mind."

You stand there, grimacing in his wake as you rub the spot where he grabbed you. You briefly let your honest emotions flicker freely on your face while his back is turned.. No eyes on you at this moment as sheer frustration and pain settles in. You take a breath as your mask of calm is set back into place. You go on with your day.

Why are you so soft? Under his hands and how you interact with others. Why do you always hand out such easy smiles so freely? He hates that about you. You carry that weary calm like a cloak, but you'll shake it off with a vibrant smile and a laugh if the right person engages you in conversation. They distract you from your fatigue and you light right up.

Homelander has yet to earn one of those sunshine smiles. He gets the fake ones. The ones that make him feel like a child clamoring for attention that you only indulge with your patience. He hates it. It makes him feel small. A god should never feel this way around such a weak mortal as yourself.

As any god does, he lets it bruise his fragile ego. The mortal must be punished and punish you he does. Every day Homelander tries to get a rise out of you. He tries to crack that cheerful facade you've welded in place. It must be fake. No animal has such a cheerful disposition naturally. There's no reason for it because you're so often a lethargic thing. He can smell the weariness on you, the stress, and even pain. How the fuck are you still smiling?

-and why the fuck do you never smile at him? 

Homelander decides, in his usual mature fashion, that if you won't smile? He'll bait out your anger instead. He wants, needs a reaction from you beyond those fake smiles.

He continues to goad you day in and day out. He'll slide right up next to you, too close, and lean down to ask directly into your ear for a report or some statistics on what his numbers are doing. Any old excuse to engage with you. He gleefully invades your personal space and is extra handsy because Homelander knows you hate it while he's aware of the effect it has on your body. 

If he grabs your shoulder and squeezes just so, your breath hitches. If he places a palm against the small of your back, your pulse races away without fail. If Homelander berates your fashion choices or comments on how tired you look, you flash that hollow smile while your eyes speak loathing at him. He wants that fire, craves it.

The tired fatigue that you always carry briefly pulls back to hint at a simmering something. One day he'll get you boiling over. In anger, in lust. It doesn't matter which one as long as it happens with him there to witness it.

Homelander finds himself brimming with anticipation for that day until it finally happens.

Everyone has a breaking point, even you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's too much, please just-

He's caught you trying to hide away in a conference room, the scent of adrenaline in the air as your heart races. A glance with his x-ray vision reveals you staring off with shaking fists clenched against your plush sides.

Finally!

Will you lash out?  Will you bite back? The thought sends a thrill through Homelander at seeing little Miss Sunshine finally rattled. There's a storm brewing on your face as your fingers tighten. It's an expression Homelander knows he's worn many a time. The sort of look that has interns scattering and Ashley stammering.

What a delight it'll be to see what you unleash. What can you possibly do, as small and soft as you are? Will it be like watching a kitten hiss and claw? Adorably pathetic.

He strides into the conference room with a smirk, the door clicking shut behind him. "There you are! You missed today's meeting, you know." He chides softly with a waggle of one finger as Homelander strides closer. You stare up at him, eyes blazing.

"Now what are we going to do about that?" Homelander goes on, voice as smooth as honey as he smirks down at you.

Something in your expression shifts. A crack in your mask appears.

Gotcha.

"Well?" He prompts, expectant. Giddiness trickles down his spine as Homelander grins wide, fangs on display. He can't wait to see how this rage of yours plays out.

Except you don't unleash anything on him. You don't even insult Homelander, which would give him reason to taunt you further or retaliate. It would give him a reason to finally lash out at you in earnest, but all you're doing is standing there.

Your expression crumples up like wet tissue. The tears are white hot and silently streaking down your face in an instant. The sound you make is beyond pathetic as you drop back into your seat, huddling into yourself. Homelander watches stock-still as you draw your legs up, arms coiling about your knees as you bury your face away from his gaze.

It's a truly pathetic sight, sobbing like the little mud person you are.

Homelander should feel triumphant. His grin twists to a grimace. He awkwardly shifts, gloves creaking as he balls his fingers into fists at his side.

Why isn't he pleased? He's watching you shatter and it doesn't wash him in the usual delight bringing misery to others does. Your sunshine is gone and it's raining on your parade, which is exactly what Homelander wanted.

Your crying should amuse Homelander. He's not amused. Instead, there's a sinking feeling within the pit of his stomach. A dead weight settles heavy inside as all his amusement flees at the sound of your whimpering sobs. It's a foreign sensation and Homelander doesn't like it one bit.

Homelander works his jaw as guilt chews away at his insides, stuck to the spot hovering over you. You continue to cry, quieter now with your back bowed and face hidden. He can smell the salt of your tears easily. 

Silently, he reaches back to pull up the length of his cape. This Homelander offers to you. He doesn't have a handkerchief like a proper gentleman, so this will have to do.

He knows he's broken something. Carelessly snapped it in two. Homelander has done it countless times before. The snap of a spine. Fizzle pop of a control deck. The crackle and sizzle of flesh. The wet sucking sound as organs spill on the floor. It's natural for a creature such as him. Things breaking is a fact of his life. He's never felt guilty about any of those times. Guilt is a rare emotion for Homelander but now it's clawing up his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Homelander blinks and refocuses his gaze as he feels a tug on his cape. He watches in a detached way as you dab at your face with the fabric, sniffling loudly. Homelander can't make himself apologize. He doesn't know how.

Instead, he asks in a surprisingly tentative voice. "Bad day?"

That takes you by surprise as your gaze snaps to him. You stare a beat up at Homelander and then you smile. It's a quavering sort, but it's an honest smile. The sunshine rushes back into your face as Homelander sucks a breath in. Were you always such a lovely little creature?

"Yeah," You say slowly. "Something like that."

[lupinsweater]

part one

Teacher!James Potter x Single Mom!Reader 💌 1.3k words

thank you to @moonpascal and @amiableness for beta reading for me!

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

Things did not go the way you had imagined the next time you saw James.

You had already been running on empty for weeks before school started, but your newfound busier schedule added to your inability to sleep at night. Every morning, you woke up with a dull ache behind your eyes and a stuffy nose that usually cleared up by noon.

Between helping Charlie with his homework and trying to meet your deadlines at work, there was hardly any time to rest. You hoped that things would clear up on their own if you stayed hydrated, but you could only stave off your incoming illness for so long before you hit a breaking point.

The morning that you finally decided you were too sick to go into work came about a week after Charlie had started school.

You’d spent the last week thinking about your interaction at parent-teacher night. Every day, Charlie came home excitedly sharing stories from class, and it was clear he had a special fondness for James, which only made it more difficult for you to stop thinking about him. You had spent the previous night tossing and turning, unable to stop coughing for long enough to fall asleep. Eventually, you gave up on trying to get any sleep and turned on the television until the morning rolled around. When it came, you phoned your boss and called in sick, trying your best to sound professional despite the exhaustion in your voice. Just as you were finishing your call, Charlie wandered into your room, dressed for school and eating handfuls of cereal from the box.

“Yes, I think it’s just influenza,” you said, clearing your throat in an attempt to hold back a cough. “Okay, that sounds great. Thank you again. See you next week.” Relief washed over you when you hung up the phone, but it only lasted a moment.

“Mummy?” Charlie asked, brushing his hands off on his jeans and setting the box of cereal down on your bedroom floor, approaching your bed. “Mrs. Wood isn’t here yet. Am I going to be late for school?”

You blinked blearily at him before registering what he was saying, and you reached for your phone to check the time. When you turned your phone back on, a reminder popped up on the top of the screen - TAKE CHARLIE TO SCHOOL. Instantly, you were wide awake.

You had completely forgotten that your neighbor who usually took Charlie to school for you- a sweet older lady named Mrs. Wood- had an appointment with her doctor that morning. She had given you a heads up weeks ago. You scrambled out of bed, pulling on a pair of slippers and grabbing Charlie in your arms, hastily carrying him down the stairs and out the door.

You helped Charlie buckle his seatbelt and situate his booster seat before hurrying over to start the car. An old Britney Spears album played over the speakers, and you went to flip it off, but Charlie’s protests stopped you. Reluctantly, you left it on for the drive, lowering the volume only as you approached the drop-off spot.

As you approached the curb, you could see James standing outside, greeting the students and chatting with parents. You groaned, running a hand down your face with embarrassment. Charlie reached down and fumbled with his seatbelt before it unclasped, and he wrenched the car door open excitedly, his little fingers fumbling with his backpack as he rushed to put it on.

“Mr. James!” Charlie exclaimed, running over to him. James’ face lit up as he saw Charlie approaching, and he dropped to a squat so he was eye level with Charlie. He offered his fist out for a fist bump, and Charlie returned the gesture. James pretended to stumble backwards, his eyes wide. Charlie giggled as James made a show of pretending to rebalance himself.

“Careful there, buddy! You’re stronger than you think!” James exclaimed, ruffling Charlie’s hair with a smile as he stood up. Charlie beamed at him before saying excitedly, “Mr. James! Mummy brought me to school today because she’s sick, and Mrs. Wood had a doctor’s appointment.” James’ gaze snapped up towards your car, and you smiled sheepishly at him as he approached. Charlie followed a few steps behind, watching James curiously.

“Fancy seeing you here,” James said as you rolled down the window. He closed the door that Charlie left open casually, giving you that lopsided smile. You couldn’t tell if your face was flushed, or if it was just a fever. “A little bird tells me that you’re sick.”

“She has in-flu-en-za,” Charlie said carefully, pronouncing the word slowly. James looked down at Charlie, biting back a smile as he said, “Ah, I see. That’s a shame.” He caught your eye, and you fought to hide your own smile.

“It’s not too bad,” you said, grimacing slightly as you looked down at your worn Snoopy pajamas and raggedy slippers. “I’m planning on sleeping as much of it off as I can while Charlie’s at school, and then downing a few cups of coffee so I can make dinner.” James frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything. He studied you for a moment, his eyes trailing over you.

“You like Peanuts?” James said with a small smile. You stared at him blankly, your brain trying to process his question. His smile grew as he watched you struggle with the question. “You know, like Snoopy?” He tilted his head downwards, and you glanced down at your pajamas again. You were definitely blushing now.

“Oh! Yes. I love Peanuts,” you stuttered, trying your best to avoid James’ gaze, but getting more flustered as you noticed his patient, almost endeared smile. Charlie piped up again, “Mummy loves Snoopy! She has a Snoopy plushie she sleeps with every night.”

“Charlie!” You hissed, shooting him a warning look. James laughed, the sound warm and smooth, while Charlie just beamed at you, clearly pleased to have made James laugh.

“No, no, it’s okay,” James said with a chuckle. “I think it’s cute, actually.” He caught your eye again, and his smile softened. You swallowed nervously, which triggered a coughing fit. You doubled over, coughing into your elbow for a moment before straightening up, your eyes watering slightly. James looked at you sympathetically.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” James said when you finally stopped coughing. “You go get some rest. Charlie and I are going to have a great day of school, aren’t we?” James looked down at your son, and he nodded fervently in response.

“Yes! I want to go to class. I love you, Mummy!” Charlie said, placing a kiss on the palm of his hand and reaching his hand up to the window. You grabbed his hand with a smile, squeezing his small palm in yours.

“I love you too, Charlie. Be good today,” you replied. You snuck a glace up at James, who was watching the two of you with a soft, almost fond, smile. Charlie ran over to James again, and he guided him gently into the building, giving you a small wave as the two of them went inside.

That afternoon, Charlie came home with a small gift basket that contained a box of tea, a few cans of soup, and an envelope with your name scrawled across the front in slanted letters. There was a takeaway gift card stuffed at the front, and as you pulled it out you noticed the note behind it. It appeared to have been written on a small school notepad, and there were alphabet blocks that bordered the sheet of paper. On it, a few simple words were inscribed with the same handwriting.

“So you don’t have to cook tonight. -James.”

He had drawn a small cartoon of Snoopy next to his name.

[moonpascal]

LESSONS IN HUMILITY

summary: Remus can’t help but embarrass himself time and time again in front of the twins teacher. pairing: single dad!remus x teacher!reader au. warnings: fluff, remus is a stumbling idiot, fem!reader. use of y/n wc: 850

a/n: still new at writing but @amiableness gave me the idea and just had to write this. also i totally forgot about luna lovegood and theodore nott, when naming the kids so ignore the similarity. (i loved the names too much and didn’t feel like going back and changing them). i’m american so beware some errors. gif from @/ewans-mitchell

Remus Lupin had never been particularly good at this sort of thing. Parenting, yes -at least he thought so. He was pretty sure he had that down, thanks to years of patience and the help of his friends. But the whole navigating Theo and Luna’s school life, especially the interactions with the teachers—one teacher in particular—was an entirely different subject.

Every time he went to the twins school, he felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. Most of that excitement could be attributed to seeing Miss Lovey. A name picked out from the students on account of being their save space. She was always kind, never without a warm smile that made Remus’s heart race and his palms sweat.

Today was no different.

As he arrived at the school and signed in for a visitor’s pass, his heart raced with anticipation. Remus stood awkwardly in the hallway, holding two slightly crumpled permission slips for the upcoming museum trip. He had meant to get it signed yesterday but had completely spaced till this morning. Now, he was faced with the prospect of another conversation with her, which simultaneously thrilled and terrified him.

As he approached the classroom, he could hear her soft voice reading aloud to the students. Waiting until she finished, then knocked gently on the open door. Miss Lovey looked up and smiled, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

“Mr. Lupin, how can I help you today?” she asked. No doubt wondering what brought in today’s visit.

Remus felt his face heat up. “I, uh, I forgot to turn in the twins permission slips for the upcoming museum trip. I’m really sorry about that. I know having things late isn’t helpful and I don’t mean to add to your plate I-”

She cuts off his rambling, and gently takes the slips from his hand, their fingers brushing briefly. “Mr. Lupin, it’s no problem at all. I’ll make sure it’s added to the others.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, feeling foolish that he couldn’t stop rambling. He always seem to turn into a blithering idiot around her.

Just then, the bell rang signaling time for play-time, and students began to file out of the classroom. Theo and Luna saw their dad and immediately ran over, giving him a big hug.

“Dad! Did you remember my permission slip?” Luna beams looking up at her father, while Theo hung off his leg.

Remus ruffled Theo’s hair before answering Lu. “Yes, I did. Miss Lovey has them now.”

She smiles softly as she hears her name. “Luna, your dad is very responsible. You guys are lucky to have him.”

“I know! He’s the best dad ever!”

“The bestest!” Theo countered back.

Remus felt a lump in his throat. He was never quite sure if he was doing enough for them, but hearing those words from them meant the world to him. He glanced at Miss. Lovey, who was watching the interaction with a soft smile.

“Well, I should get going. Only have so long of a break myself,” Remus said awkwardly. “Thank you again, Miss”

As he turned to leave, Remus stumbled over a chair leg, nearly losing his balance. He managed to catch himself, but not without looking like a complete fool. Adjusting his glasses, Theo started wheezing and Luna giggled, Remus felt his face turn crimson.

Miss Y/L/N bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Careful, Mr. Lupin there’s a chair right there.”

“Yes, right. Thank you. Bye!” he said hastily, nearly bumping into the door as well.

As if he couldn’t be more embarrassed, Y/N poked her head out and shouted, “Have a good rest of your day, see you at pick-up.”

Despite always making himself a fool he couldn’t wait.

The rest of Remus’s day dragged on. He tried to focus on his work at the Ministry, but his mind kept drifting back to the school, to the warm smile of Miss Lovey, and the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke to him. He wondered if she noticed his awkwardness, or if she just found it endearing.

Finally, the clock struck three, and he gathered his things, eager to see Theo and Luna again—and, of course, Miss Lovey. As he arrived at the school, he saw her standing at the gate, chatting with another parent. She looked up as he approached and gave him that heart-stopping smile.

“Hello again, Mr. Lupin,” she said warmly. “Bump into anything else today?” A small smirk adorning her face.

“I- I uh, managed to stay upright with no more incidents,” he replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Before further embarrassment, the twins ran up to him, chattering excitedly about their day. Miss Lovey handed him their backpacks and gave Theo and Luna a gentle pat on the head.

“You two behave for your dad, alright?”

“We will, Miss Lovey!” they chorused.

As they walked away, Theo and Luna talking a mile a minute, Remus glanced back and saw her watching them with that same soft smile. He knew he was hopelessly smitten, and for once, he didn’t mind.

[msbigredmachine]

You Again - Flashback

A/N: A snippet of Evelyn and Joe in high school. I'm still completing Part 2 which hopefully should be up soon.

Warning: Themes of bullying

Word Count: 1.1k

READ PART 1 HERE

Escambia High School, October 2000

“Hey Evie!”

She is so startled she collides with her locker door, her books nearly flying out of her hands. It takes a couple of seconds to regain her bearings and realize who is standing in front of her, and it’s not anyone she’s expecting, certainly not the captain of the cheer team.

“Ayesha,” Evie straightens, awkwardly shoving her books back inside her locker and adjusting her skewed glasses. “Umm, did you…did you want something?” she asks, her arms crossed protectively over herself. They’re not friends - Ayesha has never hesitated to remind her of this - so she wonders why she is here, flashing a megawatt smile that one could mistake to be amiable. 

“So…don’t trip,” Ayesha begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I found your note in History class.”

For a second she’s confused, and then it hits her. Oh no. Oh god. She tries to play dumb, fighting the urge to look into her History textbook where she’d thought she’d tucked her little, ill-advised daydream away in one of its pages, safe from the prying eyes of the queen of the mean girls. “W-What? What note?” 

“The note you wrote, silly. I think you dropped it on the floor, you really need to be more careful, girl,” Ayesha giggles.

It’s a lie and they both know it. Evie wouldn’t be so stupid as to expose such damning evidence, let alone discard it haphazardly in class of all places. Her brain is working frantically, trying to figure out how on earth Ayesha got hold of it to begin with. Each student had to present their History paper in front of the entire class, and she suspects Ayesha swiped the note from her desk when it was her turn. It’s not hard to imagine the malicious glee in her eyes as she read the contents, not too different from the one she is trying and failing to hide right this moment:

Dear Joe, Would you like to go to the Fall Ball with me? YES   NO

“Okay,” Evie starts tentatively, treading lightly. “So can I have the note back? Please?”

Ayesha’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh! I gave it to Joe. I saw his name on it. The note was for him, right?”

Evie feels her heart sink to Titanic depths, her insides heavy from the weight of this shattering news. The magnitude of the trouble she's put herself in brings tears to her eyes but she quickly blinks them away before Ayesha adds it to her ammunition. “Oh…I, uh…it wasn’t for…You’re mistaken, the note was for another Joe-” she starts to backtrack.

“Oh girl, there’s only one Joe in this school who matters and we all know who he is,” Ayesha dismisses flippantly. “Why you so worried anyway? I come bearing good news. He asked me to give you this.” She extends her hand, a piece of paper that looked torn out of a legal pad tucked between her fingers. Eyeing her skeptically, Evie takes it, her anxiety rising as she unfolds it and reads the familiar scribble:

Dear Evie,

Meet me under the bleachers at lunch.

Joe.

Against her better judgment, her heart flutters at his invitation, excitement bubbling inside her just knowing he responded to her. But common sense swoops in, and she stammers, shaking her head, “Look, I don’t…this isn’t necessary at all…Please, let’s just forget that any of this happened-”

“Girl, are you seriously chickening out on Joe Anoa’i?” Ayesha counters. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you and you’re turning it down?”

Evie makes one last throw of the dice, desperate to get out of this predicament. "But why are you doing this? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"It's...complicated," Ayesha answers easily, placing a hand on Evie's shoulder. “Sweetie, any girl would kill to be in your shoes right now. Who knows, he might say yes. Are you really gonna throw that away because you’re scared?”

Terrified, actually. Not much good comes out of interacting with Joe Anoa’i when you’re not a member of his precious clique. But Ayesha is right. A private meeting with the most popular boy in school is too enticing to pass up, if only this once. So Evie forces herself to wait through the agonizing hour and a half before lunchtime, embroiled in thoughts of how their conversation will go. 

It turns out she should have trusted her gut, because the minute she steps onto the field, something feels off. 

Joe is not here. Outside is eerily quiet save for the muted bustling inside the cafeteria a few feet away. Chalking it up to him standing her up, Evie permits herself to exhale a huge sigh of relief and spins back towards the building, eager to forget all about the mess she almost made.

Then, it happens. Out of the shadows, they step out, seemingly from every corner of the stands. Jon. Josh. Ayesha and her lackeys, Kelli and Chichi. All of them emerging one by one until she is surrounded by his entire posse.

And last but not least, Joe appears like some kind of video game final boss. He steps between the twins, both of whom stare her down with the same demeanor as vultures circling over a carcass. He twirls her letter between his long fingers, his handsome face wearing a sugary sweet smile and a spiteful glint in his eye that strikes terror in Evie.

“So, Evie…I read your little message to me. It was…sweet. Real cute,” he says, coming closer to her, humored by the way she tenses as he towers over her. “I just have one question…” 

He gently trails the corner of the note along her cheek. The gesture would be considered as intimate if his eyes didn't harbor so much malevolence. “Did you really think my answer would be yes?”

The group bursts into laughter, the sounds cruel and taunting. Joe circles around her, regarding her with the same countenance as a piece of gum stuck underneath his Air Max sneakers. “What makes you think I’d ever wanna go to the dance with a nobody like you? Huh?” He throws an arm around Ayesha and kisses her cheek. "Babe, didn't you tell her you were going with me?"

Ayesha crosses her arms and shrugs with fake nonchalance, an even faker smile on her pretty face. "I wanted to...but it was much more fun fuckin' with her head."

She should have known better. Better than to write that shit in the first place. Known that Ayesha was setting her up from the start; known that standing her up or simply ignoring her was too merciful, too tame for Joe and his coven.

It’s beyond humiliating, and all Evie wants is for the ground to swallow her whole.

Ayesha steps up to her, angling her head low enough to catch Evie’s teary-eyed expression. “Awww, are you gonna cry? You gon’ cry bitch? You thirsty-ass pathetic loser?”

Ayesha's arms shoot out, shoving Evie so hard that she falls over, crying out as her knees collide painfully with the ground. Her glasses slip off her face and onto the cold dewy grass and dirt. Her tears splash onto the cracked lenses as they all step past her fallen frame, their cackles echoing in her ears long after they are gone.

--------------------------------------------------

Fun fact: A version of this incident happened to me in high school in real life. Only difference is I wasn't pushed. 😭😭😭

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[anonymous-chicken-was-taken]

There is a man named Stanford Pines.

Just about anyone in the scientific community knows his name, and most know his face. It would be hard not to. It's plastered on magazines, on websites, on informational guides about the Institute of Oddology. Stanford Pines is synonymous with the word odd, peculiar, strange; it takes very little digging to find that.

Yet, when it comes to actually meeting the man? No matter who you ask, the answer is almost always no, they have not met him. Everyone knows of him, but nobody knows him. They see his face, they hear his name, they read his papers, they know his arguments. A lucky few even converse with him through email, or letters, or phone conversations. However, meeting him face to face seems to be an occurrence even rarer than the beasts he writes essays about.

Sometimes, he makes a public appearance. Sometimes, someone will see him walking about in some small, secluded space. His co-founder follows him like a shadow, never long taking his eyes away, full as they are of both care and peculiar caution.

Even more unheard of, sometimes, Stanford Pines will do something that interacts with the public. Once every few years, he will appear for an interview, or a photo, or something else to please the magazines that fill up his inbox. McGucket will be with him, every single time, and afterwards there will be whispers on the very internet he created from the people he'd spoken to. By all accounts, Stanford Pines is a very subdued, polite gentleman. Someone who is very intelligent and awkward, and attached to his co-founder at the hip. A man who is followed at all times by an army of personal security and NDAs. "For safety," McGucket will say as Pines' face goes dark. No one ever explains who's being kept safe, or from what.

To the students at the Institute of Oddology, it's even stranger. Nowhere does it say that seeing or meeting the core founder is guaranteed -- in fact, in comparison to other institutes, it's hardly even advertised that he's there -- but it's still surprising. If Stanford Pines is seen at all, it's almost always from behind a screen. Some students graduate without ever having seen him in-person. He does not attend events. He does not greet families. He does not make speeches unless he's being projected on a screen, a stark contrast to McGucket and his exaggerated mannerisms as his very real and present form hovers nearby. He holds no office on the entire campus. It is not unheard of to see him taking a walk with his co-founder, but it's rare enough to be shocking.

Rumors fly. Some are silly, absent things that would seem implausible to anyone who hasn't spent time in Gravity Falls. He's a vampire. He's a robot made by McGucket. He's a whole eldritch entity. Some rumors are more serious, whispered when his reclusive nature rings suspicious among the masses. None of them change the facts.

Perhaps it would make more sense if his co-founder was similar. However, Fiddleford McGucket is the polar opposite of Stanford Pines. He responds to interviewers asking about his computers. He makes speeches. He wanders around campus, stopping to chat with anyone who cares to listen. He's amiable and approachable as long as you can get past his rather extreme eccentricities, with an open-door policy and only one question he won't answer. If anyone builds up the guts to ask about Stanford Pines, and why he's so gosh darn reclusive, his only response is a sad, painful smile and a change of subject. In general, however, if one were to ask a given student of the institute where they could find Fiddleford McGucket, the chances are would be they'd be able to relay the information. However, like so much having to do with Stanford Pines, there is always a but.

At least three days a week, Fiddleford McGucket disappears for hours at a time. In theory, this would not be unusual. There's a section of the campus, slightly separate from the rest, dedicated to research. It takes much clearance to get to this area, for it is full of many very dangerous things. Some of the newer students fall under the misconseption that this is where he goes off to. However, there is a secretary at the entrance to this section of the campus, and when McGucket disappears, no amount of asking will get them to respond that he lies within. There is no summary of what he's there for, and there is no estimate of when he'll be back in his office. He is not there. For those hours, it's like he's vanished off the face of the planet.

There is another building seperated from the rest, barely visible through the trees. Tucked far behind the research area of the campus and heavily guarded at all times. No amount of clearance, or ID, or begging, will get anyone in. This place, most know, is where McGucket goes. No one can be certain, but there's a conviction there that this is the truth. It's the same way people know that this is where Stanford Pines resides. In those hours, McGucket disappears to the same nowhere at all that his co-founder lives.

No one tries to get there. Not anymore. There would be no point.

In order to do so, one would have to get into the research zone of campus. Already, this requires more clearance than most students could imagine. From there, one would have to go through a building only staff can open, at the very back of the campus, where only the most dangerous of research is kept. A security officer stands ever-vigilant at a back door leading to a winding pathway, intersected halfway through by a pair of guard stations. Past them lies a towering locked gate, centered in the midst of a towering electric fence. There is no guard station at the gate itself, though guards patrol the perimeter, even though the underbrush is too thick to walk through. There is no visible way to unlock the gate, but if one managed to get through regardless, they would find that the obstacles were still not over. The acre the fences encircle is thick with security, only some of which is human. It's impossible not to get caught, but if somehow, someone did, they would find themselves face to face with the sloped roof and charming wooden exterior so vaguely visible from the more well-trodden paths.

If one were to make it behind the reinforced door and yet one more pair of security guards, they would find nothing of note at all. In fact, were the windows not so thick, and the place not full of rooms with no place in a residence, and the path not so elaborate, and the whole area not so heavily reeking of isolation and uncanniness, one could almost mistake it for a normal home.

Inside, one would find Stanford Pines. Shorter than his head-and-shoulders shot makes him seem, and with a tangible air of melancholy about him that no projection could ever communicate.

Above all, Stanford Pines would appear incredibly alone, with only security, a McGucket Computer, and shelves upon shelves of books for company. If this someone who somehow managed to sneak in got lucky, they would arrive in this not-quite-a-home while McGucket had disappeared to there. They would find the two of them in deep conversation, and Stanford Pines would appear happier and more animated than most any living soul had seen him in decades, content in the company of his one connection; his shadow. Even when they had serious conversations, about the most serious topics in the world, something about him would be just that bit more lively. The visit would end, every time, with McGucket asking the same question. Every time, Pines would shake his head sadly as he responded; would the answer have been different, they both know that McGucket would have been informed long before he arrived.

Upon his co-founder's departure, one would be able to see Stanford Pines either sigh and sink right back into his melancholy, or the energy persist for another handful of hours. One would wonder why he was so reclusive, if he seemed so much brighter when he was among friends. One -- the impressive, unstoppable individual who managed to get into such a heavily monitored area -- would more than likely leave confused.

They wouldn't realize, unless they stayed within the bounds of the not-quite-home until it was far too late, what the hoards of security was designed for. Wouldn't realize that just as much as much as they are meant to keep someone out, they are also meant to keep someone in.

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> I decided to write this more like a casual narration, for the storytelling vibes. Also, I might have tried to pull a "going back and forth in time like I'm S.King", so not everything will be crystal clear from the get-go. Hope you enjoy and feel free to interact!!!

-> I tried to keep the reader gender neutral, but the fem pov came more naturally to me, so I apologise if it takes away from the story for some of you.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Five Years by David Bowie

~ 1 ~

1979 Derry, Maine

A family of three moved to Derry, for the father's work. Maine has its fair share of factories and the average person here doesn't mind getting their hands dirty, if it means paying the bills.

You were twelve when your family settled in an amiable house in Witchham St.

You may be seventeen now and you may have embraced the Losers' Club almost like a parental figure... But that wasn't the case five years ago.

When you first moved to Derry, you were twelve.

It was that same year you attended the annual Derry Funfair -Pennywise's favorite time to wake up. How could it not be, with so many kids out after dark... The Derry Funfair. The perfect hunting ground for the entity. That fateful night, you saw him for the first time. You call IT a 'he' because in the form of a clown, IT feels like a 'he'.

The air at the funfair was thick with the smell of popcorn, sugar... and something faintly metallic. As you walked through the crowd, laughter rang out around you, along with the loud music coming from the speakers far above your head.

You spotted the Ferris Wheel turning slowly against the darkening sky, each of its blinking lights reflecting in the deepening puddles scattered along the path. The Carousel line was snaking on that very path. You always loved how the painted horses glistened under the soft glow of the carnival lights...

Fed up with a group of cocky twenty-somethings, you slipped away from the fair, eventually finding yourself by the bridge for a moment of peace. You liked the breeze and the faint smell of night-blooming flowers. You still do.

It was quiet, until you suddenly heard a distinct sort of giggling. You also spotted a single, shiny red balloon floating toward you, bobbing against the wind. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Chills ran down your arms. Instinct warned you that something was very wrong.

That night, in your rush to escape and flee back to the fair, you left your hairbow at the bridge.

Later, as you looked out the window of your father's car on the ride home, you looked back and saw him -an enormous figure in a dusty, faded clown suit, watching you, waving slowly at you. His face was ghostly pale, almost like porcelain, with eyes that gleamed a strange and unsettling shade of amber. Those eyes seemed knowing, as if they could peel back every thought and fear inside you. A painted smile stretched across his mouth, far too wide and framed by rows of teeth that looked far too many, like something out of a nightmare. Wisps of reddish-orange hair framed his face, stiff and wild. The ruffles around his neck were yellowed with age, their edges fraying.

The suit itself was old, streaked with grime. Large, oversized pom-poms lined the front in an even row. And yet, despite his faded, worn appearance, there was something disturbingly vibrant about him. It was as if he wasn't really standing but rather waiting -waiting for you to wave back at him.

Even from the safety of the car, a chill had crept through you, and somehow you knew that he was still watching long after the car had turned, his gaze following you all the way home.

That night, when you woke up thirsty from all the popcorn you'd had at the fair, you wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. There, neatly placed beside the sink, was your lost hairbow -the same one you'd bitterly cried over after realizing it was missing.

Two days later, you returned to the fair with your parents. You felt happy. You were carefree. You were stupid. You couldn't resist looking for the clown who had waved at you... You had a strange feeling that the balloon belonged to him... It was the shame shade as his painted lips. You also had another, even odder feeling that he had somehow been the one who returned your hair ribbon.

Eventually you found him. The clown waved again and this time, you waved back, even managing a smile. But when he extended an unnaturally long arm, gesturing you to come closer, you were smart enough to keep your distance. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his voice, soft and coaxing, whispered your name.

Strangely, your parents didn't seem to notice him, neither that day nor the first time you'd seen him...

It was July. You didn't see the clown again until early autumn, right around the time you started feeling nervous about your new school.

That summer, he haunted your dreams night after night. They'd start innocently enough, not like full blown nightmares -you'd find yourself back at the fair, wandering through empty stalls. The colors were brighter -somehow too bright- and the air too thick. Then, he would appear. A clown in the distance, his wide smile aimed straight at you. You'd try to move, to turn away, but somehow, your feet kept inching closer.

In those dreams, he told you his name -Pennywise-, his favorite color -red- and his favorite food -cotton candy-. You remember telling him that you knew he was lying, that he wasn't just any clown. After that, the dreams stopped.

1984 Derry, Maine

You think back to all that as you blankly stare at the pages of your math book, you think back to what belongs in the past, but your mind drifting off to five years ago is more than justified.

People in town are noticing things these days, though no one says it out loud. There are hushed conversations about kids going missing -George Denbrough included-, strange sightings near the sewers, and that eerie feeling you get walking through Derry alone.

The old-timers say things aren't right this time, that it feels different somehow. You overhear a few whispers that maybe this time, it's sticking around longer. And the worst part is that you know why. You know why even better than your younger friends do...

Since last autumn, you've gotten close to Bev Marsh. She sees you as the older sister she never had. Bill lives right across the street. You babysat him and his little brother, Georgie, over the summer. But since Georgie's death in the Fall, you and Bill have drifted apart. Stanley… well, he may or may not have a crush on you. You know him through Bill -he's a good kid. Eddie Kaspbrak, same way, also through Bill. Thank God he gets some fresh air with his friends -you've heard his mom isn't the easiest. Then there's Ben, your reading buddy from the library. Richie Tozier? You two got into a fight once, over which Led Zeppelin song is the best. And Hanlon, he nearly knocked you over with his bike the first time you met.

Another remarkable mention? Henry Bowers. He is a year younger than you. Sure, the guy's a bully, but oddly enough he and his friends never caused you any trouble. And I say 'oddly enough', in the same way Derry's misfortunes oddly enough never seem to touch you. The bad luck that hangs over this town, the accidents, the disappearances, even the craziness... it's as if you've been given an unspoken pass, a quiet immunity no one else seems to have. Even when trouble looms close, you remain untouched, like some silent pact with the shadows in this place.

However, it's not just the gossiping ladies at the grocery store, or the old wise granddads who enjoy sitting on their porches, that made your mind wander to the past with their words.

As of late, your dad started locking the doors at night without explanation and your mom seems anxious, checking the windows like she expects something -or someone- to be watching. They'd never talk about it, but you can tell they sense it too... The whole town feels off, like there's something lurking beneath the surface. Sometimes, you catch a flash of red in the distance or hear a faint giggle that seems to echo from nowhere. It happens often enough that it feels like more than coincidence.

You've started wondering if he's ever really gone at all.

Even your dreams are different now.

More vivid.

In them, you're back at that same funfair... but it feels hollow, like something out of a faded photo. Every creak of the Ferris Wheel, every rustle of the trees ...sounds wrong. Sometimes, you see him waiting by the bridge, his head tilted in that unnatural way. His smile is sharper and more dangerous, as if he's been waiting all this time, keeping a part of you trapped there. You always wake up shaking, heart pounding in your ears.

The worst part is that the closer you get to waking, the darker the dreams grow.

In last night's one, Pennywise had held his gloved hand out to you, as if inviting you closer. You had felt the weight of his gaze, pulling you in despite everything inside you screaming to run. You started to remember that he's taken kids before, that he leaves things behind as markers -ribbons, scraps, things no one else notices... And then had woken up gasping for air.

No matter how much you try to shake it off, the feeling lingers, leaving you wondering if he's still out there, watching you, just as he was five years ago.

For you, fear twisted into something almost exhilarating five years ago... thanks to all those fleeting moments of intimacy when he would whisper secrets, just for you. It was wrong and you know that, but there was a thrill in the danger he represented. You think about the stories the others tell, how they shudder at the thought of him -of IT- while your heart races at the memories of the laughter, of the games. It's a longing that gnaws at you, even as you wrestle with the dread of his return.

It was easier to just forget before, but now the thought of him returns like a shadow. As you flip the pages of your stupid math book, you wonder if he's standing outside your house right now, waiting for you to come back to him, just as you've secretly wished for him to do all these years. Because, it's true, there's a twisted part of you that misses him.

When the Losers share with you Bill's and Ben's theories about IT and how IT came to be, you can't help but recall how Penny would laugh, a sound that echoed like a melody in the chaos of your childhood, dancing on the edge of terror. His voice, with its playful cadence, would weave stories that made the mundane feel magical. You remember how you'd lean in, drawn by an irresistible urge, despite the way your heart raced and your instincts screamed to flee.

Even the memories of those long, shadowy nights away from the comfort of your bed, punctuated by the pulse of adrenaline, stir something within you -an inexplicable yearning for the connection you shared, however dark it was.

You close the book since there's no way you can concentrate on your homework now and instead, you settle on washing the dishes.

Despite everything, beneath that longing lies the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow. 'Penny' killed Georgie and that truth looms over every fond memory you have with him. This is the part you feel compelled to remind yourself: he's a killer, a predator.

To any onlooker, all they would see is a broken girl, haunted by a lost childhood and a shadowy figure that once made her feel alive and seen. You know better than anyone that the line between fear and fascination is a thin one, and that's a truth you'll have to grapple with...

...in the chapters to come.

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[tainsan]

misfits VII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: anxiety, swearing, shit gets revealed :O

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ a/n: this is a crazy chapter buckle up your seatbelts, pookies.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“I’ve actually never been to a furniture store before,” you admit, smiling towards Yunho who is driving the car towards your destination. 

When you emerged from your bedroom earlier, you could almost feel the tension in the air, you attempted to go back into your room, yet Jongho saw you and beckoned you over. Just like that, they all dispersed, going their own separate ways. You tried to read the room, seeing as they all seemed to have heavy hearts and sorrowful looks plastered on their features. Yet, they disappeared far too quickly for you to read further or even get a question out, leaving Hongjoong and Yunho in the kitchen. You were amiably surprised when Yunho said he was tagging along, claiming he needed a new set of drawers.

“We have been way too many times,” Yunho admits, his eyes not leaving the road.

“When we first moved to the house there was no furniture at all, so we had to go out and get it all. Plus, we only have one car, so many trips were necessary.” Hongjoong adds, sitting in the back seat, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Turning backwards to look at him, you have a baffled look on your expression, causing Hongjoong to give you a questioning stare.

“You know you can deliver the furniture, right?” You ask him, wondering if he actually didn’t know that the company delivers, to make things easier for the customers.

“I know that silly.” Hongjoong pokes your forehead softly with his index finger, “It takes two to three days to deliver, we didn’t want to sleep on the floor for three days.” He explains, an amused grin covering his features.

“Plus, we got to see it looked like, beds sofas and stuff. It was nice to try it out before buying it.” Yunho adds on, informing you further why they didn’t order what they needed online.

Realising their point, you recline back into your chair, feeling slightly bashful that you were wrong about something so confidently.

Glancing to your left, your gaze naturally falls upon Yunho, He is wearing a white button-up shirt tucked in light-washed denim pants. It’s such a simple outfit yet for some reason he just looks so good. He has his sleeves pulled up, revealing the tantalizing glimpse of his strong forearms, tense and defined. Tracing your gaze down his arms all the way to his hands, your mind gets even wilder as you notice the silver rings adorning his long slender fingers, veins flowing from his hands and up his strong arms. The sunlight cascades through the window, casting a warm glow upon his features, accentuating the chiselled lines of his jaw and the gentle curve of his lips. Your eyes scan the contours of his face, captivated by the subtle play of shadows and the spark of determination that shines in his eyes as he steers the vehicle.

A rush of warmth floods your chest, causing your heart to flutter as you realize that your feelings for Yunho may extend beyond friendship. At this moment, every feature seems to come alive, every detail etched in your mind. You can't help but be drawn to the confident yet gentle way he holds the steering wheel, and the subtle movements of his hands as they navigate the road ahead. There's an undeniable magnetism about him, an intoxicating blend of strength and tenderness that stirs something deep within you.

You catch yourself stealing glances, unable to tear your eyes away, as if you are glimpsing at a masterpiece that the world is yet to fully appreciate.

Attempting to calm your beating heart and mute the heat covering your cheeks, you take a deep, silent breath. It’s when you look up into the rear-view mirror and notice Hongjoong’s sharp, sultry eyes already staring deep into your eyes, the sudden eye contact making you feel weak at the knees, and you are suddenly thankful that you are sitting down, knowing you would have likely fallen over otherwise. Hongjoong is staring back at you with mischievous eyes and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. In that fleeting moment, his actions become laden with a teasing flirtatiousness that catches you off guard, sending a jolt of excitement through your veins. He smirks at you, accompanied by a subtle raise of his eyebrow, and playfully runs a hand through his hair. The air inside the car crackles with a newfound tension, and a rush of warmth flushes to your cheeks as you become flustered by his unexpected display. The flicker of attraction between you becomes palpable in this shared moment of connection.

Holding the stare with Hongjoong, you observe as he leans back in the seat he is residing in, his legs relaxing slightly as his body relaxes against the back of the leather chair, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. The smirk is still on his features, and you just know it’s there because he saw you checking out his friend. However, wanting the attention on him, Hongjoong spreads his legs a little further, cocking an eyebrow in your direction he teases you gently, almost as if he is asking, ‘Like what you see?’ 

You hate the way his small actions have such a large impact on you, suddenly realising that you are in a car with truly gorgeous men. Amidst the hustle and bustle of your own world in recent times, you suddenly find yourself grappling with the realization that you haven't truly taken the time to appreciate just how exceptionally good-looking each member of Ateez is. A wave of awe washes over you as you stand in their presence, feeling remarkably small and insignificant, wondering how on earth you could ever be fortunate enough to be in their company. The sheer handsomeness of each member seems to magnify with every beat of your racing heart, leaving you helplessly captivated.

It's as though a curtain has been lifted, allowing you to truly see and appreciate their stunning features. The realization dawns on you that you had only scratched the surface of their attractiveness until now. The more you've gotten to know them, the more their genuine sweetness and caring nature have illuminated their physical appeal. It's as if their inner beauty has enhanced their external allure, rendering them even more striking and enchanting.

Even Yunho, who perhaps hadn't initially caught your eye as much, now seems to possess a charm that surpasses your earlier perception. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way his eyes sparkle with mischief or soften with empathy, all contribute to an undeniable attraction that you hadn't fully recognized before. As you find yourself drawn to his presence, you can't help but acknowledge the growing appreciation you hold for his unique and appealing attractiveness.

Lost in this newfound realization, you contemplate how lucky you are to have crossed paths with these remarkable individuals. The depth of their beauty, both inside and out, fills you with a profound sense of gratitude and wonder.

In the past few days, a heightened awareness of your roommates has settled within you, penetrating your thoughts and emotions in complicated ways. Each interaction now leaves a lasting impression on your mind, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Despite the inner chaos and uncharted territory of these recent feelings, you dare not admit or even contemplate the idea of being attracted to all eight of your roommates.

It has been a slow process, this changing perspective that has even redefined your perception of Yunho. That fateful night spent together, retrieving your moisturizer, somehow acted as a spark, unveiling a side of him that you had never fully recognized before. In the aftermath of that unexpected encounter, Yunho's sweetness towards you has only intensified, further clouding your thoughts, and stirring unfamiliar emotions. And it's not just him; all your roommates have shown remarkable kindness towards you, further complicating your feelings.

In the depths of your mind, you fight with the realization that it may be wrong to feel your roommates as something more than friends. You understand that their actions are simply from their naturally kind-hearted nature, not from any romantic intention. Yet, despite this rational understanding, you find it challenging to control the growing attraction you feel towards them. After all, it is only human to be drawn to people who exhibit such genuine warmth and charm.

However, the situation becomes more complex when you consider the details of your daily life. These are the people you see day in and day out, your cohabitants in the place you call home. The very fact that there are eight of them amplifies the difficulty of your feelings. How could you possibly navigate these uncharted waters, let alone muster the courage to confide in Jisung, knowing that his reaction would likely be one of shock and disbelief?

You reassure yourself that it is not a mere crush that you are experiencing. It's merely an appreciation for the captivating charm that each of your roommates possesses. It's a recognition of their magnetic qualities, their ability to make your heart skip a beat with a simple gesture or genuine smile. That's all it is. It's nothing more than finding them inherently and irresistibly charming. Or so you tell yourself, as you grapple with the swirling complexity of emotions that have taken root within your heart. 

“Earth to ___?” Yunho breaks you from your thoughts by waving his hand in front of your face, when you zone back into reality, Yunho lets out a chuckle, “There you are.” 

As your gaze shifts towards the window, a sudden realization dawns upon you — you find yourself parked in an indoor parking lot, the likely underground expanse hidden from view. Puzzled, you wrack your brain, unable to recall the exact moment when you entered this parking space. A flicker of concern arises within you as you silently hope that your momentary delay of attention while gazing at Hongjoong did not lead to you staring longingly at the man.

Looking back at said man residing in the back seat, you realise he is no longer in the car. 

“Where did Hongjoong go?” You question, climbing out of the car, Yunho also departing the vehicle and closing the door behind him.

“Went to get a parking ticket,” Yunho explains, pondering what you were so intensely thinking about for the past few minutes. 

Realization prompts a nod from you, and you carefully shut the car door behind you. Swiftly gathering your belongings from the trunk, you hasten your steps to catch up with Yunho, who is already striding purposefully towards what appears to be the entrance of the expansive store. As you approach, Hongjoong appears near the entrance, his expression adorned with a gentle smile that adds a touch of warmth to the scene. 

“So, what exactly do you need?” Hongjoong questions as the three of you walk towards the large entrance of the store.

“I originally needed a bed, wardrobe, and a desk but luckily for me, I already have that. So, I’m just looking for some decorations for my room, it is a little plain. No offence” You joke, smiling at the man walking next to you, knowing the room used to be his. 

Hongjoong chuckles before answering, “I moved all my stuff from the room into the room upstairs, it looks better than you’d think.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

As you step foot into the furniture shop for the very first time, a spark of excitement dances in your eyes, and a contagious enthusiasm radiates from your every pore. The vast expanse of elegant sofas, beautifully crafted tables, and stylish decor unfolds before you. Weaving through the aisles, your fingers gently brushing against the soft fabrics, eyes tracing the intricate details of each piece. The shop becomes a playground of inspiration, where you start to envision the perfect blend of comfort and style for your own living space.

Yunho and Hongjoong, watch from a distance, unable to tear their gazes away. As they observe you, they can't help but be captivated by your genuine excitement. Their hearts swell with an inexplicable warmth, witnessing the unfiltered joy that illuminates your face. At this moment, they are reminded of what you bring to their lives, and their own feelings for you start intensifying, more than they thought was even possible.

Yunho and Hongjoong, their hearts heavy with the weight of unspoken words, find relief in simply witnessing your happiness. Longing to be the source of that joy, to be the ones who can make you smile with such genuine delight.

As the three of you drift through the shop, your excitement only intensifies, the two men accompanying you exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They share a mutual desire to preserve your pleasure, even if it means tucking away their own desires for now. 

As you walk past the plant section, your attention is immediately grasped by a beautiful bonsai tree. Your gaze fixates on the enchanting tree displayed in the shop, a glint of delight lights up your eyes. Its delicate branches and intricate foliage captivate you. Always having a liking towards bonsai trees, you long to possess this miniature masterpiece, immediately imagining the beauty it would bring to your desk. However, as you glance at the price tag dangling from its pot, a wave of sadness washes over you. The realization that you cannot afford such a cherished treasure weighs heavily on your heart, wishing it wasn’t so expensive. 

“Whatever,” you grumble placing the plant back where you found it, reluctantly walking away. Hongjoong and Yunho notice the sudden change in your demeanour, confusion etching across their faces as they wonder why you don’t simply buy the bonsai that has captured your affection. 

“Why don’t you get it?” Hongjoong questions as he makes his way next to you.

“It’s too expensive,” you grumble, starting to peer at other plants that are more in your price range.

“I’ll get it for you,” Hongjoong casually says as if it’s nothing.

Looking over at the man, you give him an incredulous look, not quite believing he would spend such money on you.

“What? It’s a nice plant it’ll fit your room perfectly.” He continues, slightly amused by the expression on your face. “Has no one ever bought you something nice before?” He says as a joke, yet when he sees the saddened gaze cover your eyes, his smile immediately wipes away.

“Not really.” You respond, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m getting it.” Yunho immediately says, walking back to where you left the tree, Hongjoong hastily joining him in his steps

“Yunho? Hongjoong stop, it’s too expensive.” You exclaim as you follow on their heels.

“___, just let us. You deserve it.” Yunho says, a blush creeping up his neck as he sees the wide eyed, adorable look present on your face.

“What do you mean? Put it back guys.” You desperately attempt to halt them spending their money on you.

“You deserve nice things,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eyes, “you deserve even more than this,”

“Just let us buy it, please?” Yunho adds.

The confessions of your roommates catch you completely off guard, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. Your heart seems to race at an almost impossible speed, thumping loudly in your chest as their words sink in, the sudden surge of emotion causing your cheeks to feel fiery.

Their heartfelt admission has an astonishing effect on you, intensifying the emotions you've been trying to navigate. The mixture of shock and warmth that courses through you in response to their words only serves to strengthen the feelings you hold deep within your heart. It's a moment you hadn't anticipated, yet you know it will leave an indelible mark on your memory.

“Okay, fine.” Is all you manage to say.

——

“So, is that all you need?” Yunho questions, as the three of you reach the end of the store, near the cashiers. Looking down at the basket Hongjoong is holding, it is nearly full to the brim with small decorations you found cute or fitting for your new bedroom.

Smiling up at the tall man, you nod shortly, excited to get home and arrange all the objects around. Yunho chuckles at the childish grin plastered on your face, not exactly understanding why it is that you’re so thrilled. Nonetheless, the beam on your face is far too infectious, and even he has a hard time masking the smile that is twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, I will pay for my things quickly and I’ll meet you by the car?” You ask, beginning to stand in line to pay.

“We will help you carry the things,” Hongjoong replies, not moving from his spot, wanting an excuse to stay with you for as long as he can, never really having the chance when you are home.

“Please, it’s okay. I will meet you there,” you reply, when you see Yunho opening his mouth to retort, you stick your finger at the both of them, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

They both chuckle at your adorable antics before unwillingly heading towards the car park, where they will wait for you patiently.

Waving at them as they walk away, you turn your attention back to the line that you are standing in, the basket of ornaments held by your hands. Realizing the line isn’t too big, you feel yourself being relieved, not wanting to make Yunho and Hongjoong wait for too long. 

Approaching the cashier, ready to pay for your items, your anticipation mixes with a sense of accomplishment. With each item scanned and placed in a bag, you relish the satisfaction of transforming your vision into actual pieces for your room. 

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly feel a jolt as a man dressed in black carelessly bumps into you, causing your grip to loosen. The item you were holding slips from your hand, a momentary panic gripping your heart. Thankfully, it lands on the ground without breaking, but you can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the man's lack of consideration. 

Looking up, you somewhat expect to see him swiftly approaching with an apology, but to your surprise, he continues on his way, heading towards the exit, leaving you with a mix of confusion and lingering irritation. Scoffing, you look back at your items and continue putting them into the bag.

Walking back to the car, you try to remember where exactly the car was parked. You didn’t even know they had a car until this morning, so you still aren’t completely familiar with the model or size of the car, only remembering it is white. Maybe a Ford, maybe a Toyota? You can’t remember. At least you remembered what level of the car park you were at, and that it was next to a green wall. 

Scanning for the green wall, you are delighted when you find it, next to it a white Mercedes. Your guesses were close enough. Happily making your way to it, you are stopped in your tracks when you see the very person who had bumped into you, standing near the car, causing you momentarily stop walking towards the vehicle, knowing hundreds of stories about people being kidnapped next to their cars. When the person notices you, they immediately start strolling towards you, and for some reason, you thought you would be feeling afraid, yet for some reason, the man in front of you looks extremely familiar, way too familiar. It only clicks in your head when the man is about seven feet from you. 

“Danny? What are you doing here?” You question, recognising the man from one of your classes in high school. The suspicion and fright leave your body instantly as you realise who the man is, knowing him as one of the kinder people from your high school. After all the mess had happened, he was one of the only people who still talked to you. He wasn’t particularly one of your friends, but he definitely wasn’t someone you would hate to see again.

“___, I was wondering if that was you.” He exclaims as he reaches you, a smile on his face. 

“How did you even recognise me,” you joke, knowing your looks from a few years ago are drastically different from what they are now.

“I am very good at remembering people’s faces, sorry for bumping into you, I was too busy on my phone,” Danny explains, his hand going up to scratch the back of his neck, a light blush on his cheeks, feeling embarrassed for potentially hurting you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply as you start to walk towards the car, not having to worry about being kidnapped anymore. Trying to open the trunk, you’re surprised when it doesn’t budge, and you realise that Yunho and Hongjoong haven’t reached the vehicle yet, making you worry ever so slightly.

“So, what are you doing in this city?” Danny asks, curious as to why you are here.

“I’m actually going to college here at the moment,” You smile, answering his question.

Danny has a shocked look on his face, “that’s crazy. You were always smart, but I never thought you were this smart. Isn’t this city's college super hard to get into?” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, and yes it was very difficult, but I made it.” You beam at the man, glad that it isn’t awkward to see him again. “What are you doing here by the way?” You question, realising you don’t know the reason for his random appearance.

“Oh, me and my girlfriend are visiting, I have some distant relatives here who she hasn’t met yet. I wanted to come to this shop because my aunt needed some screws for a broken bed,"

"Are you waiting on your girlfriend now?"

"No she hates furniture stores, so I decided to come quickly seeing as she’s busy.”

“I’m happy for you, Danny! How long have you guys been together?” 

“Thank you, ___. Just a little after we graduated high school, she went to the high school near ours.” 

“I see, that’s great!”

“Yeah, i guess so,” Danny says, with a sorrowful smile on his face.

“Kind of? What’s up, having some relationship troubles?” You question, reassuringly placing your hand on his shoulder, letting him know he is able to confide in you.

Danny sighs before answering, “I don’t know, recently she’s been acting strange, a few nights ago when she found out some of my relatives were living here, she demanded to go and meet them. It just doesn’t seem like her, she has never really been interested in meeting my family. Plus, when I woke up today, she wasn’t even in the hotel room, all she left was a note saying she was out doing something important. I don’t know what it means or what’s happening or if she is cheating, but it’s very confusing. I’m so sorry for ranting oh my God.” Danny exclaims, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed for suddenly loading a bunch of information on you, but it’s not like you care at all.

“Don’t worry, I really don’t mind. It sounds like she’s got some things going on in her head, my advice to for you to just sit down with her and ask her. If she’s cheating, it is definitely her loss, trust me.” You reassure the man, offering him a gentle comforting smile. It looks as if he really needed to talk to someone and you can only hope in this moment that his girlfriend isn’t out being unfaithful, knowing how much of a sweetheart Danny is. 

It’s when you hear Hongjoong’s voice that you’re brought back to reality, “Sorry, ___, the ticket machine wasn’t accepting my card for some reason,” Hongjoong appears from your left, Yunho next to him and you are pleased they are back, wanting some much-needed time to sit down after being on your feet for so long. 

“I was wondering where you two were,” you say, looking up at your roommates who have completely stopped and have bewildered looks on their faces, spiking your interest. They don’t look shocked or confused, but fearful and irritated. 

Hongjoong and Yunho were discreetly observing from a distance, their hearts skipping a beat as they notice you engaged in conversation with a random man. Concern flickers in their eyes, a protective instinct taking hold. The gentle furrow of their brows reveals their shared worry, their minds racing with the possibilities of what might be happening. From their place, they cannot hear the words exchanged, leaving them with a sense of uncertainty. Are you in trouble? The tension hangs thick in the air as they remain on high alert as they make their way towards you, almost sprinting. However, when they recognise the man who you are so happily chatting to, their hearts almost stop in their chests. All they can do is act normal and pretend they have no idea who the man is, in hopes that, just like you, he won’t be able to identify them.

“Oh, this is Danny, we used to go to high school together,” you explain, knowing that Yunho and Hongjoong would likely be confused as to why you are nattering with a random stranger. Instantly, Hongjoong and Yunho regain their composure, acting as if they were never taken aback. The change in their behaviour was minuscule, yet you somehow managed to notice it and you hope there is nothing wrong. Just like that, their cold exterior is back up, as if it never left.

“Hi,” Hongjoong says bluntly, not even bothering to look Danny in the eyes, simply walking past him and unlocking the car, opening the trunk, and taking the bag from your hands. Silently thanking him, he looks up at you and gives a brief smile. 

You expect Danny to bid his goodbyes, yet for some reason, he is staring at Yunho and Hongjoong, with a puzzled look on his features. 

“What’s up?” You question, wondering what has Danny’s attention so deeply, it looks as if he is analysing the two of them very thoroughly.

He stays silent for only a few seconds, yet for some reason it feels like an eternity, when he decides to speak it catches you off guard, “Of all the people I was expecting to meet, Kim Hongjoong and Jeong Yunho were definitely not on that list.” Danny’s words are fast, but they feel extremely lengthy, he continues speaking, “Well it does make sense you’re hanging around the group, ___. You were always with Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong and Yunho feel their breaths catch in their throat, their world feels like it's crashing down on them, unable to carry the weight. They look at you, hoping that you do not understand and brush it off, but they know you well enough to not let it slide.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking at Yunho and Hongjoong with a confused expression, before glancing back at Danny, “you know them?” You ask him, extremely baffled as to why Danny of all people would know about Ateez, thinking only people in your college would be accustomed to the group.

“Yes? Why do you sound so confused? Everyone thought you guys died.” Danny points his statement towards the two males, who are looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Let’s go, ___.” Yunho demands, his voice the same tone as how you heard it when you first met, venomous, yet this time it isn’t pointed at you. The two want to, need to get out of here before Danny says anything further, uncovering more information for you.

“Yunho, wait. Danny what are you talking about, what group? How do you know Seonghwa?” you inquire, desperate for answers and fast.

Hongjoong calls your name, his voice desperately wanting you to get in the car and get away from the situation before Danny can answer your questions. Looking, at Hongjoong, you see the desperate look in his eyes, and it confuses you further. Why won’t they let you hear the answer, and why are they so agitated by the man in front of you?

“KQ Fellaz? That group you were always with.” 

Hongjoong and Yunho curse, Hongjoong letting out a loud exhale and Yunho immediately grabbing your arm, softly pulling you towards the vehicle, begging you to get in.

“KQ? What do they have to do with…” Your voice trails off, your mind starts to unconsciously piece together all the parts, the memories, words, actions, everything starting to fit into place, and you suddenly feel incredibly brainless for not doing it earlier. No wonder they all felt so familiar, memories of the few weeks during the final year of high school come flooding back and you rapidly recognise why you were so gravitated to the group you live with now. 

They are KQ Fellaz. Ateez were KQ Fellaz. The outcasted boys you had spent countless days and nights with. It has been almost four years, which explains why they look severely different, but of course, their eyes stayed the same, and that’s exactly why you were drawn into the naturalness of each of their gazes. That explains why the group you have come to know recently, have been so kind, despite their reputation. 

As the truth unravels before you, your world shatters into a million pieces, leaving you feeling utterly betrayed by the eight boys who have seemingly re-entered your life. In the depths of your distress, you suddenly realize that they had known all along. The weight of their deception presses upon your heart, suffocating you with a mix of anger, hurt, and a profound sense of betrayal that resonates to the core of your being.

Memories flood her mind, moments spent together, laughter shared, secrets whispered. The realization that they were aware of the cherished moments while you remained ignorant, cuts through your soul like a knife. The questions multiply, tormenting you with the relentless demand for answers. Why had they chosen to keep this truth from you? What were their motives? And perhaps most agonizingly, how have you been so blind to their hidden knowledge, their shared past?

The emotions burst open, unleashing a torrent of pain and confusion. The sorrow swells within you, an overwhelming wave crashing against your heart. The trust you thought you were building with your roommates, now crumbles beneath your feet. Struggling with a deep sense of disappointment, questioning not only the intentions of your ‘friends’ but also your own ability to determine true friendship.

“I see.” You barely manage to get out. “It was nice to see you, Danny.” The meek smile on your face is clearly forced and Danny feels extremely guilty realising he said information that was unknown to you. All he can do is nod and give you a supportive smile, before heading in his own direction.

Slipping into the car, a wave of discomfort washes over you, prompting you to take a seat in the back, intentionally creating a physical distance between yourself, Yunho, and Hongjoong. As the door slams shut, you hastily retrieve your phone from your back pocket, your fingers typing out a message to Jisung. The urgency in your text is palpable as you request that you can stay at his place tonight, recalling that many of his roommates are currently away.

Outside the car, Hongjoong and Yunho stand frozen, their hearts pounding in their chests like a relentless drumbeat. The weight of the situation presses heavily upon them, and when their eyes meet, within that brief exchange, they can see the storm of emotions raging within each other. It's as if a mirror reflects their own turbulence, a shared understanding of the pain and anguish they both feel.

Taking his place in the passenger seat, Hongjoong turns his gaze back towards you, his expression filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. Your hunched form, wounded and distant, tugs at his heartstrings, causing his own heart to plummet to depths he didn't think were possible. Though he has endured his fair share of hardships, the sight of betrayal and resentment etched across your face pierces him in a way he has never experienced before.

Yunho joins Hongjoong in the front of the car, his body swivelling to face you, his eyes filled with an agonizing mixture of remorse and yearning. Hongjoong gently calls out your name, his voice a fragile plea to offer an explanation, to bridge the divide that has grown between you. However, before he can utter a single word, you cut him off, your voice brimming with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

“Drive.” Your voice is the most, hatred filled, venomous and hurt they have ever heard, you don’t even bother to look at them as you speak, afraid if you look in their eyes one more time, you would be destroyed. Inhaling heavily, they both turn around to face the front of the car. Pausing a moment, before deciding they will talk as soon as you get home and give you all the responses you wish to hear.

The car ride home is a stark contrast to the cheerful journey that brought you here earlier. Laughter and light-hearted banter have been replaced by a suffocating silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The atmosphere inside the car is so thick that it hangs in the air, weighing down on everyone's shoulders like an oppressive burden. Even the most cutting-edge tool would struggle to slice through the palpable tension that fills the vehicle.

In a fleeting moment, your eyes meet Hongjoong's reflection in the rear-view mirror. Within those brief seconds, you catch a glimpse of the profound sorrow and longing that lingers in his gaze. It strikes a chord deep within your heart, causing it to fracture a little more. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, spinning in a storm of overthinking that he has never experienced to this extent before. 

On the left side of the car, Yunho mirrors Hongjoong's internal struggle. His hands tightly grip the steering wheel, his chest constricting with every passing second as if he might collapse from the overwhelming weight of guilt that courses through his veins. He keeps his focus on the road ahead, his jaw clenched, tears welling in his eyes, desperately fighting to regain control over the torrent of emotions that threaten to eat him alive.

As the car pulls into the garage of the once-familiar house, a sense of unease washes over you. The once-welcoming ambience has transformed into something cold, foreign, and unrecognizable. Your chest tightens, and the overwhelming sense of utter disloyalty becomes almost too much to bear. You storm into the house, racing ahead of Hongjoong and Yunho who trail closely behind, their footsteps quick and urgent as they frantically try to reach you before you disappear into the solace of your room. 

“__, please stop. Talk to us.” Hongjoong’s voice is desperate as he tries to persuade you to halt your movements. You aren’t sure if it is luck or misfortune as you make your way to the kitchen and see every one of your roommates sitting around the island, chatting, and eating their lunch. Forgetting it is their free day, you curse internally, feeling tears already prick at your eyes when the everyday faces you look at become distorted, your vision only being able to see the men who left you four years ago.

As they catch sight of you, the men approach with warm smiles, their hearts lifted at your early return. They had been looking forward to chatting and sharing a meal together, eager to enjoy each other's company. However, their joy quickly dissipates as they take in the contorted, disgusted expression etched across your face. In an instant, worry floods their beings, their thoughts immediately drawn to the earlier conversation about Ryu that still lingers in their minds. The atmosphere shifts, tension intertwining with their concern, creating an uncomfortable heaviness in the room.

Seonghwa rises from his chair, his brows furrowing with concern as he strides towards you, a mix of worry and determination carved into his face. He watches as you storm past him, the force of your collision causing him to stagger slightly. A sharp pang shoots through his chest, not just from the physical impact, but also from the emotional weight behind your actions. It feels as though his heart has been squeezed tightly, aching with the pain of seeing you so distraught. 

At the island, the other five men rise from their seats, their eyes following the unfolding scene with a mixture of confusion, alarm, and growing concern. Their gazes shift from you to Yunho and Hongjoong, who swiftly give chase, their expressions reflecting a desperate need to stop you in your tracks and understand what has caused such distress. Seonghwa's initial suspicion that Yunho may have been involved in triggering your reaction dissipates, replaced by a deepening worry for your well-being. 

The room is filled with an air of tension and unease as the members of the group stand, their bodies poised in a mixture of anticipation and confusion. Each of them yearns to uncover the hidden emotions behind your furious actions, their senses heightened as they try to decipher the commotion that has enveloped the room. 

“__, stop, now.” Hongjoong’s voice booms around the kitchen, echoing with authority and you once again, realise why he is the leader of the group.

Coming to a sudden stop, you pivot on your heels, your body facing the kitchen once more. A fusion of determination and vulnerability flickers in your eyes as you lock gazes with the eight men in the room. Their varied expressions mix puzzlement, concern, and a tinge of guilt. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon your shoulders. This is the opportunity to confront them all, to lay bare the swirling emotions and shattered trust that now consumes your heart. These were the friends you once believed in with unwavering loyalty, the ones you thought you could confide in and rely on with your whole being. It's a bittersweet realization, knowing that the ones you held closest have become the source of your pain and confusion. Yet, you cannot turn away from the truth. You need to face the situation head-on and seek the answers and resolution you so desperately need. 

“No, Hongjoong, why don’t you stop.” Your voice matches his tone and for a second you can see him flinch at the harshness of your expression, never having heard or seen you this serious or mad before, your voice never having reached above a shout before. Looking around at the men who all have dreading expressions plastered on their faces, you feel even more angry at how they could hide something so large, so personal, so utterly heartbreaking from you. 

“When were you planning on telling me?” you speak again, the anger evident in your voice, yet by the way the tears are forming in your eyes, they can tell you aren’t just mad, but betrayed. The tone in your voice is broken and hurt.

“We were going to tell you,” Yunho explains, his voice quiet, feeling incredibly guilty that the way you had to find out was through someone else, not them.

“I’m sorry what is happening?” Jongho inquires, asking the question that all five of the men who were previously sat down, were wanting to ask. Yet, for some reason they have a good guess at what the answer might be, dread filling their hearts, causing an impending sense of doom to fill their gut. Silence falls upon the room, the tension thickening as each second passes that you don’t answer. 

“Answer.” You say, your voice gentle, prompting either Hongjoong or Yunho to reply, explaining what dreadful occurrence has just happened. When neither of them speaks, only looking at you with begging eyes, you raise your voice once again, “Answer it.” You yell, causing all eight men to recoil.

Yunho decides to speak, looking towards his friends who are extremely on edge, dreading the words coming from his shaking lips, “We ran into someone…” 

Yeosang slams his hand onto the island, rage encasing his entire being. Thinking it was Ryu they ran into, his heart stops in his chest and he sees red. 

“It was Danny,” Hongjoong says instantly, recognising why everyone suddenly tensed up even further.

“What else? Hongjoong.” You spit, the emotions of fury overwhelming all the others.

The way you boom his name pierces through his heart, his breath catching in his throat, tears almost threatening to fall from his eyes, his beautiful eyes. Fuck.

“He recognised us.” This is all Hongjoong says before the tears fall freely from his eyes, the sight breaking you in half, muting your anger slightly, it being replaced by all the desolation and gloom you have in your body. 

As the weight of the truth settles in the room, a collective realization sweeps through the eight men. Their expressions shift, revealing a mixture of guilt, anguish, and remorse. The air becomes thick with tension as San and Mingi, overcome with their own instability, resort to desperate gestures; running their hands agitatedly through their dishevelled hair, unable to meet your gaze. Jongho, his face hidden behind trembling hands, struggles to process the gravity of the situation, his breaths coming in deep and uneven. Yeosang averts his eyes, unable to witness the devastating impact of your shattered trust, tears brimming in his own. 

However, amidst the chaos, Seonghwa remains fixated on you, his gaze unyielding despite the cracks forming in his own heart. As your eyes meet him, a flood of memories rushes back to you, an overwhelming explosion of anguish and despair from the darkest night of your life. It dawns on you with a haunting clarity that he must have been the one you encountered on that rooftop, the boy whose vulnerability and brokenness mirrored your own. The weight of that realization hits you with an intensity that sends waves of anxiety coursing through your body, a painful reminder of the shared pain and scars etched deep within your souls.

As the weight of the truth crashes down upon you, your body trembles uncontrollably, the ground beneath your feet becoming unsteady. Your legs give way, collapsing beneath you, and you crumple to the floor in a heap of despair. Sobs wrack your body, each one an emotional release of the pain and agony that fills your shattered heart. Your mind becomes a swirling vortex of torment, entangled with thoughts that are both haunting and devastating—a torment that incorporates the present, the past, and an uncertain future.

In an instant, Seonghwa and Yunho rush to your side, their presence a lifeline in the midst of your despair. They kneel down beside you, their arms reaching out to provide comfort and support, their faces etched with concern and helplessness. The remaining members of the group converge around you. Their eyes are filled with a mixture of compassion and desperation, yearning to alleviate your pain, to ease the torment that grips your mind. Together, they form a protective circle around you, their collective presence a symbol of unwavering support. 

“Don’t touch me, get the fuck away from me.” You almost scream, feeling their hands on your arms, their bodies close to you, the words crushing their hearts. Needing to get as far away from here as possible, you attempt to stand, but your legs give up again, the panic getting too much for you to handle. 

“­Tiny, let us help.” Yunho’s voice is the softest you have ever heard, making you break even more.

“Don’t you dare call me that? I trusted you most, Yunho.” Your voice is raw and hoarse, the emotions spilling through, the sound of your feelings pinching the hearts of the men around you. 

With Seonghwa's gentle assistance, you manage to regain your footing, though you push him away immediately, needing a moment of independence amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The room falls into an eerie stillness, the air heavy with anticipation, as the gaze of eight pairs of eyes remains fixed upon you. Their hearts pound in their chests, bracing themselves for the impact of your words, fearing the repercussions of what you might reveal next. 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you steady yourself, mustering the strength to voice the thoughts that have haunted your mind for years. The weight of your words hangs palpably in the air, a thick fog of vulnerability and revelation enveloping the room. Each member of the group feels their heart clench in anticipation, their breathing hitching as they prepare themselves for the final straw, the crushing blow to their already battered souls. 

And then, the words spill forth from your trembling lips, carrying with them the raw essence of your pain, your betrayal, and your deepest fears. The room becomes a tempest of emotions, a storm unleashed by your words. Shock, disbelief, and anguish etch themselves onto the faces of the eight men, their expressions frozen in a tableau of shattered trust and shattered dreams. The impact of your confession reverberates through the room, each word a dagger that pierces their hearts with unrelenting force.

“They told me you died; I spent months convincing myself it wasn’t true.”

Yunho's voice quivers with desperation as he urgently calls out your name, the cracks in his tone baring the weight of his emotions that rock on the edge of spilling forth in a stream of tears. The eight men surrounding you, bound by an overwhelming bond, collectively hold their breaths, their very souls entwined in this dreadful moment. Each of them, their hearts heavy with empathy and love, feels their spirits fracture at the mere thought of you bearing the burden of their deaths with no one to fall to.

In the gloomy silence that follows, a distressing realization hangs in the air, intertwining the threads of their unbreakable connection. It is a bittersweet recognition that while their lives are intrinsically entangled with yours, they are also painfully aware of the toll it takes on your spirit. Their hearts ache, fuelled by a profound sense of protectiveness and a desperate desire to shield you from any pain or hardship that may lie ahead. 

“I needed you, all of you.”

------

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-000 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su @theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329 @formulateez @senpai-of-doom @aaaaajonghooooo @ijwsbdinp ​@liniiiaa @channiespup @heyitstacy @eightmakesonebraincell @araknoid @itsmeregan @rynmlk @kazuhateez @galaxypox @chermonroe @babyhailey819 @euphoricdeni @wooya1224 @matzbear @h-nji

if you asked to be tagged and do not see your account it is because you cannot be tagged, i am sorry.

[genshinarchives]

I really enjoy those meeting their future child headcanons you did with Xiao, Chongyun, and Thoma. Could you please write a part 2 with Heizou, Gorou, and Cyno?

Gorou, Shikanoin Heizou, Cyno / female reader.

Synopsis: He meets his future child(ren).

Xiao, Chongyun & Thoma ver.

#GOROU

Gorou is in the middle of training his soldiers when he suddenly feels five pairs of small arms wrap around his legs from behind. He yelps, surprised that he didn’t sense the additional presences sneaking up on him; he didn’t even hear them approaching! Are they ninjas? When he looks down, he’s even more surprised to find... miniature versions of his siblings and himself latched onto his legs.

“I finally found him! This is him!” the oldest-looking one exclaims, beaming up at Gorou with a smile that reminds the latter of you. The other children’s excited reactions only puzzle him; is he supposed to know them...? By now, the soldiers have abandoned their training to crowd around their general and the young hybrids, whilst cooing over how adorable they are and how alike they look to Gorou.

Embarrassed, Gorou would usher his subordinates away by assigning every soldier present guard or patrol duty. Once he’s alone with the children who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, he would ask them where their parents are. Shock would be written all over his face when all five shiba inu hybrids point at him with their little bushy tails wagging, prompting him to point at himself as well as his ears stood upright. “M-me? You all must be mistaken! I don’t remember being the father of five pups!”

“But you are our tou-chan in the future!” the youngest-looking pup cheers as she climbs up to his shoulder, “Where’s kaa-chan? Is she healing people?” Even if Gorou isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to matters outside of the battlefield, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that she’s referring to a certain military physician - you. The moment he connects the dots, his face would light up as his tail swishes energetically behind him.

The ridiculous idea of his children travelling to the past to meet their parents’ younger selves is buried under the thought of being your husband in the future. You and Gorou are already dating each other, so it’s only a matter of finding the right time to finally settle down with you as a civilian. He would ask them questions about what their life is like as a big family, and if his and your older selves are planning to have more children - because just five is not enough for him.

With a beam, Gorou would then scoop his future children into his arms as they all laugh at his obvious enthusiasm, before rushing off to find you. He has decided that you have to meet them and see that they’re as cute as you! “Don’t worry. It’s only five of you right now, but soon, you’ll get more siblings! I just have to convince your mother-”

#SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

Heizou raises an eyebrow when he comes across a young girl who doesn’t look like a resident of Watatsumi during one of his sight-seeing trips to the island. Stopping in his tracks, he slightly tilts his head to one side as he observes her closely. He’s not exactly sure why yet, but his intuition is telling him that interacting with her will yield interesting results.

With an amiable curve of his lips, he would approach the girl in question and call out to her whilst waving to draw her attention. The moment she turns her head, his eyebrows shot up as he finally gets a good look at her. She... has a strong resemblance to him. It could just be a coincidence and while he’d like to believe so, his intuition is telling him that she’s not just any other person he’d happen upon in his day-to-day life.

“Are you done staring and making deductions in your head?” she inquires, pulling him out of his thoughts. She spoke to him with a tone of familiarity, and this would prompt Heizou to ask her if they’re supposed to know each other. The young girl simply rolls her eyes before answering that she knows him because she’s his daughter, Shikanoin Maeko, from the future.

“Alright, I believe you,” he interrupts with a forced chuckle, “If I’m your father... then who’s your mother?” Maeko doesn’t hesitate in saying your name, and Heizou’s eyes widen as his jaw goes slack. He didn’t expect you, Kujou Sara’s most trusted aide, to be the woman he’ll marry in the future. It’s certainly a surprise, but it’s not an unpleasant one. Imagining Sara’s expression upon receiving the news of your engagement to him elicits stifled laughter from him; it must truly be a sight to witness in the future.

Unsurprisingly, Maeko’s response doesn’t throw him off. The detective has heard every excuse and story during his investigations, and as someone who seeks the truth, he’s willing to believe a claim as long as credible evidence is provided with it. “You say you’re my future daughter? Then tell me something only my family would know,” he says, grinning. That grin is soon wiped off his face when Maeko starts telling him about the thief he befriended as a child, who kept thinking of him until his dying breath. That... was something only he was privy to, and he assumed that his older self must have divulged his past to her for a good reason.

Heizou is aware that asking his daughter about the details of his proposal to you would ruin the surprises fate has in store for him - but he can’t help being curious. “So... how did I-” “I’m not telling you how your future self proposed to okaa-san. Solve that mystery yourself, Tenryou detective.” “... You may have my looks, but you have your mother’s personality.”

#CYNO

Cyno and Dehya are bewildered to see Candace walking into Aaru Village with a young boy. Cyno looks her straight in the eye for an explanation, and with a hesitant smile, she divulges what the boy had told her. “He says that he’s from the future, and that he’s come to see his parents,” she utters, earning incredulous looks from her friends.

Cyno, ever the straightforward man who wants to get things done right away, would approach the quivering boy who’s been hugging Candace’s leg. “Who are your parents?” asks Cyno. The boy doesn’t respond (most likely out of fear, he notes), and when he’s about to rephrase his question, Dehya comes up behind him and hits the back of his head. He frowns at her, clearly displeased.

“That’s not how you speak to children,” she claims before crouching down to the child’s level with a smile, “Hey there, I’m Dehya. What’s your name, and do you know the names of your parents?” Behind her, Cyno folds his arms over his chest as he drank in the boy’s familiar appearance from head to toe. White hair, (e/c) eyes, and a tanned complexion...

The boy seems to relax at Dehya’s friendliness and introduces himself as Zafir. He then eyes Cyno timidly, making the latter arch an eyebrow, before lowering his gaze to his feet as he says, “Papa’s name is Cyno... and mama’s name is (y/n).” Cyno, Candance and Dehya blink at Zafir’s answer, and there is a moment of silence as the women slowly turn their heads to the bewildered General Mahamatra, who is too stunned to speak for once.

He didn’t know how to react to Zafir claiming him as his father and you, Cyno’s close friend, as his mother. You’re a dancer who’s part of Nilou’s troupe, and he’s a matra who enforces the Akademiya’s academic integrity; although Cyno does nurture romantic feelings for you in secret, having a place in your future seemed only possible in his imagination. Not to mention, time travel? Despite his doubts, he could tell that his “son” is stating the truth - that he came from the future in which Cyno is married to you. Zafir’s eyes, which remind Cyno of your own, also testifies to the boy’s claims.

After getting over his initial shock, he would crouch down to Zafir’s level and say, “I see. It seems that I have other things to protect with my life.” A gentle pat on the head and a small smile from Cyno are all that Zafir needs to be reassured that the man in front of him is the same father who would fiercely protect his wife and son from harm.

Taglist: @coco-goat-milk @m3gitsune @melkxsh @irethepotato @frostines-blog @xphantasmagoriax @crunchy-princeles @nanamisflowerfield @dulcetamore @eliatae @stellaris999 @yuuki4646 @sinnyrants @chuusposts @xiao-bedo @chocogi @kiraisastay @mintydump

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse; SA; fluff; crash

Masterlist

CHAPTER 8

The paddock buzzes with excitement, the air charged with the fervour of the qualifying day. Fans are scattered throughout, their enthusiasm palpable as they eagerly seek out their favourite drivers for a momentary connection. For Natalie, the team's PR representative, this bustling atmosphere is both a spectacle and a challenge.

As she navigates through the crowd, fans stop her and request photos and autographs from Lando, the team's charismatic driver. It's a routine part of the job that Natalie finds somewhat tedious. She understands the importance of fan interaction, recognizing that their unwavering support is crucial for the team and the sport as a whole. However, her professional instinct often urges Lando to hasten to his car, focusing on the impending race rather than engaging in prolonged fan interactions.

Despite her slight impatience, Natalie acknowledges the significance of these moments for the fans. It's a chance for them to connect with their racing idol, to capture a memory that will last a lifetime. Lando, ever the amiable and accommodating personality, graciously takes the time to fulfil their requests. The constant interruptions can be trying, but Natalie realises that this fan engagement is a vital aspect of maintaining the team's rapport with its supporters.

Earlier in the day, a barber paid a visit to the team's garage to tidy up Lando's unruly curls. Natalie observes this routine ritual with a mixture of amusement and affection. The sight of Lando in the barber's chair, his wildly curly hair being meticulously trimmed and shaved, is a spectacle she enjoys. It's not just about the physical transformation; it's the subtle nuances in Lando's demeanour that captivate her.

As the barber works, Lando tilts his head from side to side, a playful gesture that showcases his relaxed and carefree attitude. The act of getting his hair groomed becomes a performance in itself, with his jawline popping teasingly, creating a lighthearted banter between him and Natalie.

Her mind, however, is momentarily diverted from the racing ambience to the memory of Lando's freshly shaved sides. The image lingers in her thoughts, and a playful smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She contemplates the practicality of his new haircut, realising that there will be less hair to playfully tug onto when they share intimate moments. It's a fleeting and somewhat cheeky thought that adds a touch of personal delight to the professional whirlwind of the racing environment.

As they finally reach the haven of Lando's driver's room, Natalie takes a moment to catch her breath. The transition from the bustling paddock to the more private sanctuary of the driver's room provides a brief respite from the external chaos. The air in the room is filled with the scent of adrenaline and anticipation, creating an atmosphere that is both charged and focused.

“How do you have so much energy this morning?” She bluntly asks as she starts handing him caps to sign.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that my girlfriend kissed me awake this morning.” He teases as he scribbles his signature on the caps.

“You just love saying that, don’t you?” Natalie chuckles. Lando, not missing a beat, glances up at her with a sly grin.

“And, you love hearing it, don’t you, baby?” He teases further, enjoying the light-hearted exchange.

“Stop it, silly.” Natalie whispers, playfully nudging his shoulder with her hip. 

As the banter subsides, they seamlessly transition back to their official duties, the caps now adorned with Lando's signature.

“How’re you feeling about quali today?” Natalie inquires, shifting the focus to the impending qualifying session.

The teasing banter momentarily takes a back seat to the more serious aspect of their roles in the racing world. Lando's demeanour shifts, becoming more contemplative as he considers the question.

“Confident.” He replies with a determined nod. “The car feels good, and I’ve got a good feeling about today. Oscar and I need to keep the momentum going.”

As if on cue, Oscar makes his entrance, tapping his knuckles against the open door with a playful "Knock knock." His presence injects a light-hearted energy into the room.

“Did I hear my name?” He asks, clearly intrigued.

“You did. Lando was just saying you better not start at the back of the grid tomorrow.” Natalie jokes.

“Oh, no way. You know we’ve got the third row locked down between the two of us.” Oscar retorts.

“I like your confidence.” Natalie laughs.

Natalie and Lando turn their attention as Lily appears behind Oscar, innocently waving at them.

“Good, you’re here! I was going to text you to find out if you’d like to go to dinner tonight if you’re not busy?” Natalie asks her.

“That sounds great.” Lily, pleased with the invitation, agrees with a sweet smile.

“And, the boys can join if they’re bored enough.” Natalie assures, noticing Lando's deadpan reaction to her spontaneous invitation to Lily.assures Lando when she sees his deadpan reaction to her invite to Lily.

“Ah, I see how it is. Inviting Lily to dinner and just assuming we'll tag along because we might be 'bored'?" He feigns a hurt expression, earning a playful roll of the eyes from Natalie.

“Oh, come on. What else could the two of us possibly be doing without our girlfriends anyway?” Oscar chimes in, adding to the banter.

The paddock erupts in cheers and jubilation as the qualifying session for McLaren unfolds brilliantly. Lando, displaying exceptional skill and determination, secures pole position for the upcoming race—his fourth pole position of the season. The accomplishment is a testament to both his talent and the team's dedication to pushing the limits of their performance.

Oscar, not to be overshadowed, puts up an impressive performance as well, securing the third position on the grid. The McLaren crew is elated, their hard work and meticulous preparation evident in the outstanding results. The garage is filled with the sounds of celebration, the team members sharing high-fives and exchanging smiles, their confidence soaring.

The crew, convinced of the team's potential, started discussing the strategies and fine-tuning details for the race day. The prospect of Lando securing his second F1 win is a source of great anticipation and excitement among the McLaren ranks. The garage, moments ago filled with the adrenaline of the qualifying triumph, now becomes a hive of activity as the team channels their energy into preparing for the race that lies ahead.

As the crew rushes out to join the jubilation and congratulate Lando and Oscar on their exceptional qualifying results, Natalie chooses to stay behind in the garage. While the sounds of celebration fill the air outside, she remains surrounded by the echoes of the team's achievements within the confines of the garage.

Her face adorned with the biggest smile, Natalie is a picture of pride and contentment. She watches the live telemetry and monitors the team communications, staying connected to the unfolding celebrations while savouring the intimate moment in the garage. This is a familiar scene – the culmination of countless hours of hard work, dedication, and the shared pursuit of excellence.

Natalie knows that for Lando, this pole position holds a special significance. It represents more than just a starting position on the grid; it symbolises the culmination of relentless effort, the thirst for victory, and the unwavering commitment to excellence. Lando has been fighting valiantly for that elusive race win, and Natalie senses that this could be the moment when the stars align.

Her pride is not just for the team but especially for Lando. She recognizes the determination in his eyes, the resilience at every turn, and the skill that has brought him to this point. Natalie knows it's his time, a moment that feels long overdue. The smile on her face reflects not just the thrill of the current achievement but the anticipation of what lies ahead on race day.

Lando is lost among the sea of people as his McLaren team swarms him and Oscar. Despite being overwhelmed by his performance and the people grabbing and pulling at him, there’s one set of hands and eyes he doesn’t see anywhere. Once the excitement dies down, Lando pulls off his helmet and balaclava before rushing into the garage to find Natalie eagerly awaiting his arrival.

Amidst the sea of people celebrating and the overwhelming swarm of the McLaren team, Lando finds himself lost in the midst of the jubilation. The cheers, high-fives, and congratulations from the team members and well-wishers engulf him, momentarily making it difficult for him to discern individual faces in the crowd. Despite the joy and chaos surrounding him, there's a subtle awareness that one set of hands and eyes is missing.

Once the initial excitement begins to subside, Lando takes a moment to catch his breath. As he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, a sense of curiosity and longing tugs at him. He looks around, scanning the crowd, but the one person he's been unconsciously seeking remains elusive.

Driven by an instinct that transcends the adrenaline of his success, Lando makes his way back into the garage. The familiar surroundings offer a temporary escape from the chaos outside, and there, eagerly awaiting his arrival, is Natalie. She stands in a quieter corner of the garage, a calm presence amid the residual excitement.

Their eyes meet, and a smile spreads across Lando's face as he rushes towards her. The noise of the celebration fades into the background as the two share a moment of connection. In that instant, the garage becomes a haven where the intensity of the race and the exuberance of victory meet the personal joy of shared accomplishment.

Lando's joy radiates as he pulls Natalie into his arms, a genuine and infectious smile lighting up his face. With an exuberant burst of energy, he swings her around, and her laughter echoes through the garage, a harmonious melody to the excitement of the moment.

“Pole position, baby!” Lando exclaims, his voice filled with elation. The exclamation catches the attention of the mechanics and engineers who are still basking in the afterglow of the team's success.

As Lando revels in the joy of the pole position and the celebratory moment with Natalie, there's a subtle shift in the dynamics of their relationship. Despite having maintained a low-key approach to their displays of affection during their months of pretending to be in love for the public eye, Lando senses the significance of this particular moment.

Feeling an overwhelming desire to make a statement and officially claim Natalie as his girlfriend, Lando decides to go big. In the midst of the cheers and applause from the team, he gently sets Natalie down and takes a step back, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye.

With a mischievous grin, Lando decides to break from their usual understated approach. He sweeps Natalie into a passionate kiss, the kind that speaks volumes about the genuine affection between them. The display of affection catches the attention of those around them, including the mechanics and engineers who momentarily pause in surprise before breaking into cheers and supportive applause.

At that moment, amidst the whirlwind of emotions and the celebratory atmosphere, Lando takes a bold step to publicly declare what has been brewing between them for months. It's not just a victory celebration; it's a proclamation of their connection, an acknowledgement that goes beyond the pretence for the public eye.

As they pull away from the kiss, Lando's gaze remains locked onto Natalie's, a silent affirmation of the depth of their bond.

“You’re incredible!” Natalie gushes, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration and pride.

“You’re my lucky charm, baby.” He declares, his words carrying a warmth that goes beyond the celebratory atmosphere.responds, his smile not faltering.

“I’m so proud of you.” Natalie continues, her voice filled with sincerity.

Natalie seamlessly transitions back into her professional role, whisking Lando away from the exuberant team and guiding him toward the media pen for interviews. The adrenaline of the qualifying success still lingers, but now it's time for Lando to articulate his thoughts and emotions for the eager audience.

The interviewer directs the first question to Lando, “Walk us through how you’re feeling right now.”

Lando takes a moment to gather his thoughts, a mix of excitement and gratitude evident in his expression.

“I’m overwhelmed, you know. This isn’t a track we’re normally great on, so having both teammates in the top three is insane. I’m ecstatic, though. This is truly a testament to the work the team has put in and the upgrades they’ve brought in. They deserve every ounce of success.” Lando explains.

“What does this mean for you tomorrow?” The interviewer continues, probing into Lando's expectations for the race day.

“A win, hopefully. It’s been a long time coming for me to get my next win, but they say good things take time. As always, I’m grateful to the fans who have supported me all these years and the team who keeps pushing, but I’m even more motivated to get this win because I’ll get to share it with someone special.” Lando's eyes light up with determination as he responds.

As Lando speaks to the interviewer, Natalie looks up at him with a mixture of surprise and flattery. It's a moment she hadn't anticipated – Lando openly acknowledging her in the context of a race or qualifying interview. While he's been vocal about their connection in more relaxed settings, such as podcasts or late-night shows, this public acknowledgment feels different.

The cameras, attuned to the dynamics unfolding in the media pen, catch Natalie in that unguarded moment. Her expression reveals a mix of genuine surprise and a subtle blush, a testament to the unexpected but appreciated recognition from Lando.

- THE NEXT DAY -

As the race unfolds, tension and excitement grip the audience, and the commentator's voice echoes the sentiments of everyone watching.

“This has been a nail-biting race!” Martin Brundle exclaims, capturing the drama and intensity of the on-track action.

The commentator's words resonate with the heart-pounding moments, close encounters, and strategic manoeuvres that have defined the race. Each lap adds a layer of suspense, keeping spectators on the edge of their seats as the drivers navigate the challenges of the circuit.

The unpredictable nature of motorsports, coupled with the high stakes of the race, intensifies the atmosphere. The commentator's exclamation becomes a shared sentiment, connecting viewers worldwide in their collective anticipation of the race's outcome.

Amid the nail-biting excitement, Lando, supported by the relentless efforts of the McLaren team, races with determination and focus. The pole position, achieved during the qualifying session, becomes a crucial advantage, but the unpredictable nature of Formula 1 ensures that every moment is fraught with possibilities. After a disastrous pitstop thanks to being slowed by a pitting Mercedes, Lando has dropped down several positions and is fighting to regain the race lead.

As the race intensifies, Natalie stands in front of the screens, her nerves palpable as she watches Lando fiercely fight for third and then second position. Max, Lando's father, Adam, and Natalie share the same anxious stance, their eyes fixed on the unfolding drama on the track.

The tension in the room is thick as the top five cars approach the hairpin turn. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, and each passing moment feels like an eternity. The spectators hold their breath, knowing that any slight misstep could alter the course of the race.

In a cruel twist of fate, the cars around Lando collide, creating a domino effect of chaos. The impact is forceful, sending the McLaren in third position spinning into the air and ultimately crashing into a wall. The screens capture the dramatic scene, freezing the heart-stopping moment in time.

Natalie, Max, and Adam watch in disbelief as the race takes an unexpected turn. The collective gasp in the room is drowned out by the sounds of the collision on the screens. The elation that fills the air during the earlier stages of the race is replaced by a sombre atmosphere, and the gravity of the situation sinks in.

“Oh, dear, lots of contact around that hairpin corner. And, there’s a massive accident taking out the top field. Looks like there’s a car on its head against the wall there.” Brundle reports, the gravity of the situation evident in his tone.

“Oh, my God, no.” Natalie's gasp of horror echoes through the room as the cameras capture the papaya-coloured car smashed against the wall, its roof now the unintended point of contact with the track. “Oh, my God.”

Her eyes remain fixated on the devastating image on the screen, a vivid representation of the brutal reality of motorsports.

The room falls into a stunned silence as the gravity of the situation sinks in. The once-promising race has taken a tragic turn, leaving everyone in the room to grapple with the harsh reality of the risks inherent in the sport. Natalie's exclamation resonates with the collective concern and sorrow in the room.

The cameras, in a sombre shift, redirect their focus away from the scene of the accident. Instead, they capture the cars re-entering the pitlane as the race is red-flagged. The visual transition from the chaotic aftermath to the orderly return to the pits underscores the abrupt shift in the dynamics of the race.

In the heavy atmosphere of the room, Max, understanding the weight of the situation, gives Natalie a reassuring tug on the shoulder. The gesture is a silent acknowledgement of the shared concern for Lando's well-being and a comforting attempt to provide support in the uncertain moments that follow.

As they wait anxiously to hear about Lando's condition, the room remains in eery silence. The reassurance from Max offers a brief moment of solace amidst the worry and anticipation.

“Lando, are you OK?” The tension in the room reaches a peak as Lando's race engineer desperately calls over the radio

“Oh, my God. He’s not moving.” Natalie breathes, her worry palpable. “He’s not moving.”

“Lando, are you OK?” The engineer calls again as he turns back to stare at the speechless crew in the garage from the pit wall.

The seconds feel like an eternity until, finally, a response crackles over the radio.

“Yeah.” Lando groans, his voice strained and filled with pain. The relief in the room is palpable, but Natalie's concern doesn't fully dissipate as she hears him moan in pain.

The sudden silence descends upon the McLaren garage as the safety marshals rush out to the impacted cars, bringing the race to an abrupt and solemn halt. The atmosphere is tense, with an air of concern hanging over the team as they await updates on both drivers involved in the accident.

Oscar, having emerged from his car relatively unscathed, rushes over to Lando's car. The quiet in the garage is broken only by the distant sounds of the safety marshals and the hum of the halted race. Oscar kneels beside Lando's car, a palpable worry etched on his face.

A few seconds later, Oscar throws up a thumb, a gesture that now carries immense weight in the motorsport world. The collective breath held in the McLaren garage is released, but the air remains heavy with concern. Oscar's indication, while positive, also hints at the severity of Lando's condition.

The team now huddled in a silent show of solidarity, exchanges glances filled with a mix of relief and lingering apprehension. The familiar camaraderie that defines the McLaren family takes on a new depth as they rally around their teammates in a moment of shared concern.

As Natalie lets go of a breath she didn't realize she was holding, tears stream down her face. The gravity of the situation hits her, and the emotional release is palpable. The screens, which had been a source of exhilaration and excitement just moments ago, now convey a scene of sombre intensity as the safety team works to extract Lando from his car.

Adam, recognizing the emotional toll on Natalie, pulls her into a half-hug. The gesture is a silent reassurance and a shared acknowledgement of the concern for Lando's well-being. Together, they watch with bated breath as the safety team carefully carries out the extraction process and loads Lando into an ambulance.

The paramedic fires questions at a disoriented Lando, assessing his condition in the aftermath of the accident.

“Are you in any pain?” She inquires, her trained focus on gathering crucial information.

“My fingers are tingling, and my head hurts.” Lando quickly responds, providing insights into the sensations he's experiencing. The paramedic, now armed with valuable information, continues her evaluation. “Please, can I see my girlfriend? Please.”

As the medical team continues to evaluate Lando, a call comes through to his race engineer. The urgency in the voice is palpable as the engineer radios Natalie, delivering the crucial message.

“Nats, he's asking to see you. Please make your way down to the medical centre; they're on their way there now.” The engineer relays, the words carrying a mix of concern and the need for immediate action.

Natalie, her emotions already on edge, nods in acknowledgement. Without hesitation, she begins to make her way down to the medical centre. The atmosphere in the McLaren garage remains heavy with anticipation, the concern for Lando's well-being eclipsing any lingering thoughts about the race.

The call serves as a stark reminder of the intimate connection that exists within the racing community. In moments of vulnerability, the professional boundaries blur, making room for the personal relationships that underpin the dynamics of the team. Natalie, now carrying the weight of both her professional and personal roles, must navigate through the paddock with a sense of urgency, her thoughts consumed by the well-being of the McLaren driver who has asked for her presence in a moment of distress.

She arrives just in time to witness the medical team offloading Lando from the ambulance on a stretcher. The scene is a mix of controlled urgency as they wheel him into the medical bay. Natalie's heart pounds in her chest as she takes in the gravity of the situation, the racing world momentarily fading into the background as her primary concern shifts to Lando's well-being.

The medical centre, usually a hub of activity during race weekends, now becomes a temporary sanctuary where the focus is solely on the health of the drivers. Natalie, with a mix of professional composure and personal worry, follows the medical team into the bay, ready to offer whatever support Lando might need in this vulnerable moment.

“Nattie!” Lando's voice, pained but determined, calls out for Natalie.

Without hesitation, she rushes to his side as he lies on the stretcher. The urgency in his plea adds a layer of vulnerability to the high-stakes atmosphere of the medical centre.

“I'm here. I'm here. You're fine; you'll be fine.” Natalie reassures him, her voice a steady anchor in the uncertainty. As she walks alongside his stretcher, she holds his hand, offering a tangible connection that transcends the clinical setting.

As Lando is wheeled into the medical bay, Natalie remains by his side, her demeanour a mix of frantic worry and determination. She's out of breath, but her focus remains on Lando, her grip on his hand unwavering. In this moment of uncertainty, the connection between them serves as a source of reassurance.

Feeling Lando squeeze her hand, Natalie glances down to meet his bloodshot eyes. The shared gaze conveys a multitude of emotions – fear, relief, and a deep-seated trust in the bond they've formed amidst the challenges of the racing world.

“It's okay, Lan. You're okay.” Natalie reassures him once again, her words a soothing balm amid the chaotic scene.

The tears continue to stream down Natalie's face, an involuntary reaction to the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. The gravity of the situation, coupled with the fear and concern for Lando, manifests in the raw display of her emotions. However, as the medical team intensifies their efforts to tend to him, Natalie finds herself forced away, the urgency of the medical procedures taking precedence.

The medical team, focused on their critical tasks, guides Natalie away from the immediate vicinity as they hover over Lando. With precision and speed, they rip open his fire suit and attach pads onto his chest, their actions a testament to the urgency and meticulousness required in moments of crisis.

Natalie, though physically removed from the immediate medical procedures, remains a silent observer. Her heart pounds with every step away from Lando, the overwhelming desire to be close to him and offer comfort evident in her eyes.

“Hi, Lando. I'm Dr. Zimmerman. We need to take you to the nearest hospital for scans to rule out any internal injuries, is that fine?” The doctor informs him, presenting a straightforward plan for further assessment.

“Please let me see my girlfriend.” Lando, in his vulnerable state, pleads with the doctor.

The desire for the familiar presence of Natalie serves as a testament to the emotional anchor she represents in this critical moment.

“In a minute.” The doctor replies, his focus unwavering as they continue to run several checks and administer a relaxant to aid in the necessary medical procedures.

As the medical team continues their procedures on Lando, Natalie is left watching helplessly from the side of the medical bay, her panic palpable. The sounds of medical equipment and urgent conversations create a disorienting backdrop as she grapples with the weight of the situation.

Every instinct in Natalie screams to be closer, to offer comfort and support, yet the clinical efficiency of the medical procedures keeps her at a distance. The vulnerability of the moment intensifies, and she is left to navigate the emotional turmoil while restrained by the boundaries of the medical bay.

The contrast between the urgency of the medical scene and Natalie's powerless position on the sidelines underscores the challenges faced by those connected to the racing world. In this moment, the usual composure of the McLaren PR representative crumbles under the weight of personal concern and fear for the well-being of someone she cares deeply about.

“Miss Feldt?” A nurse asks, causing Natalie to snap her head to look at her. “They’re getting Mr Norris ready to be transported to the hospital. McLaren have arranged for a car to take you there as well. Please follow me.”

- LATER AT THE HOSPITAL -

“Natalie!” Adam's voice echoes through the hospital corridor, drawing Natalie's attention.

As she spins around, she is enveloped in a tight hug by Lando's father and best friend. The embrace carries a mix of relief and shared concern, acknowledging the emotional toll the recent events have taken.

“They won't let me see him.” She tells them, her voice hoarse, the tears still evident in her eyes. The weight of the situation, coupled with the frustration of being kept away from Lando, surfaces in her words.

As Adam disappears down the corridor, Max steps in to console Natalie, offering a supportive presence. They share a moment of shared concern, the weight of the situation evident in their expressions.

A few minutes later, Adam returns with a doctor in tow. The appearance of the medical professional adds a new layer of anticipation to the atmosphere. Natalie's eyes fixate on the doctor, hoping for information about Lando's condition. The doctor, with a composed demeanour, becomes the bearer of crucial updates.

“Hi, I’m Dr Schultz. You can go in and see Lando.” The doctor informs Natalie, providing a pathway to reunite with him. She nods in gratitude, her steps following the doctor as they make their way toward Lando's room. “Please follow me. He’s been sedated. He came in complaining about his head hurting and his fingers tingling. The MRI and CAT scan came back clear, but we are worried about bruising around his cervical spine. We’ll be keeping him overnight for observation and should be discharged tomorrow after a final evaluation.”

The doctor stops outside the door to the hospital room and opens it for Natalie to enter. As she steps in, her eyes find Lando lying in the hospital bed, connected to multiple machines that emit a rhythmic symphony of beeps and hums. The sight of the medical equipment emphasizes the gravity of the situation, and concern washes over Natalie once again.

Lando, sedated and resting, becomes the focal point of the room. Natalie takes a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the bedside. The quiet beeping of the machines serves as a backdrop to the fragile stillness in the room.

“It looks far scarier than it is.” The doctor reassures Natalie as she enters the room, acknowledging the intimidating array of medical equipment surrounding Lando.

The comforting words offer a perspective shift, reminding Natalie that the visual complexity of the machines doesn't necessarily correlate with the severity of Lando's condition.

“The sedation should wear off in the next half hour. If you have any questions, please let one of the nurses know to contact me; I'd be happy to assist.” The doctor adds before disappearing again, leaving Natalie with a sense of guidance and support.

With a deep breath, she pulls a chair close to the bed, a mix of relief and worry etched on her face. Natalie takes Lando's hand gently, offering a silent reassurance through the simple act of touch.

The contrast between the usual vitality of the McLaren driver and his current state is stark. Max and Adam, while remaining at a respectful distance, share a moment of shared concern, their eyes reflecting the weight of the situation.

“Fuck, that was a bad crash.” Max's comment about the severity of the crash hangs in the air, prompting Adam to nudge him as a subtle reminder of the sensitivity of the situation.

“Not now, Max.” Adam whispers, his focus on providing support in the present moment.

“He sounded like he was in so much pain.” Natalie speaks softly as she caresses Lando's hand. “I’ve never seen anything like that happen before.”

“It could have been so much worse.” Max adds, attempting to provide a perspective of gratitude. However, Adam, keenly aware of the delicate balance needed at this moment, scolds Max once again. “Alright, sorry. Let me get you guys some coffee.”

As Max disappears from the room, Adam takes a step further, sharing a moment of vulnerability and reflection with Natalie. The emotional weight of the situation permeates the quiet hospital room.

“He's lucky, this boy of mine.” Adam comments, his voice carrying a mix of paternal pride and concern. The connection between father and son becomes evident as Adam opens up about the past.

“I met his mom when I was a teenager and still very much in love with karting. Then one day, I rolled the kart, and her face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.” Adam reminisces, his tone carrying a touch of nostalgia.

“I don't think I've ever seen someone look so scared. Until tonight when you were watching them extract him from the car.” Adam continues, drawing parallels between past experiences and the recent events. The admission of fear in both instances underscores the vulnerability inherent in their shared passion for racing.

“Please never stop worrying about him.” Adam implores, the sentiment reaching beyond the confines of the hospital room. In this moment, the barriers between personal and professional relationships fade.

As Natalie gazes at Lando, fast asleep in front of her, the events leading up to the race replay in her mind. She doesn’t even hear Adam leave the room and shut the door on his way out. The memory of Lando's laughter, echoing through the moments before the race, lingers in her thoughts. Though she can't recall the specific reason for his laughter, the vibration of it remains etched in her memory.

The weight of fear settles on Natalie's shoulders as she recalls the intensity of the emotions during the crash. The fear of something going terribly wrong, the dread of an event that could potentially alter Lando's career or, even more devastating, end his life, creates a profound sense of vulnerability.

The memory of the crash replays in her mind—the deafening silence that enveloped the scene, the collective hush that fell over everyone as they waited for some sign from Lando. In those agonizing moments, the racing world, with its roar of engines and tire screeches, fell silent, giving way to an eerie stillness that mirrored the collective breath-holding of those witnessing the unfolding events.

Natalie's recollection captures the essence of the racing world, where triumphs and setbacks coexist on the same razor's edge. The fear she experienced is a poignant reminder of the inherent risks and uncertainties that come with the pursuit of speed and victory.

“Are you crying?” Lando mumbles as his eyes flutter open, catching sight of Natalie sitting next to him.

“No.” She quickly responds with a reflex denial that she quickly corrects. Her honesty prevails as she wipes away the tears from her cheeks. “Yes.”

Lando lifts his hand, and without hesitation, Natalie takes hold of it, their connection a silent reassurance in the hospital room.

“I'm sorry I scared you.” He apologises, a genuine expression of regret in his voice.

“Please, no. Don't apologize.” She assures him, her voice still carrying the rawness from earlier moments of intense emotions. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” He chuckles before groaning, the humor punctuated by a twinge of pain.

The small joke from Lando triggers another wave of emotions for Natalie, prompting her to start sobbing again just as Max returns with a coffee.

“I leave for ten minutes, and you're crying more now than earlier.” Max comments, his attempt at lightening the mood as he pulls Natalie in for another hug, offering his support.

“Baby, I'm fine.” Lando reassures her, his grip on her hand a tangible expression of comfort.

Max raises an eyebrow at Lando's use of the word 'baby,' an observation not lost on him. The unspoken understanding between the two friends is evident, and Max decides to leave the room, giving them a moment of privacy.

“Come here.” Lando instructs Natalie, pulling her down to him. In the shared vulnerability of the hospital room, he reassures her with his presence. The simplicity of the gesture speaks volumes, emphasising the connection that goes beyond the complexities of the racing world.

Natalie gently rests her head on Lando's chest, finding solace in the comfort he provides. Her uncontrollable sobs continue, and in response, Lando kisses her forehead multiple times. His gestures of affection and reassurance become a source of calm in the midst of her emotional storm.

“I'm fine.” He tells her once again, his hand running through her hair with a soothing touch. The repeated reassurance becomes a mantra, a reminder that they have weathered the storm together, and he is here, present and unharmed.

In the aftermath of the crash, Lando reflects on the vivid sounds of Natalie's distress—her screams, the panic in her voice when she couldn't see him, and the tears that followed when they denied her immediate access. The echoes of her emotions reverberate in his consciousness, painting a poignant picture of the depth of her concern.

He recognizes the unwavering support and determination in Natalie's actions. The realisation settles in—he knows where things stand with her. She would fight tooth and nail for him, an ally in the face of adversity, and he reciprocates that commitment without hesitation.

In the quiet of the hospital room, their unspoken bond becomes even more pronounced. The shared experiences and the vulnerabilities laid bare strengthen the connection between them.

“I thought you…” Natalie trails off, her words carrying the weight of the fear and uncertainty she experienced.

“Nattie, look at me.” Lando tells her, prompting her to lift her head off his chest. His eyes meet hers, an earnest expression in his gaze. “Accidents happen all the time, and look, here I am.”

“Yeah, but it's you.” She mumbles, her vulnerability laid bare. “I can't lose you.”

In this candid exchange, the depth of Natalie's emotions comes to the forefront. The fear of losing someone she cares about profoundly is a sentiment that transcends the complexities of their roles within the racing world. Lando, with a reassuring gaze, acknowledges the gravity of the moment and the impact of their shared experiences.

The weight of Natalie's words settles in, conveying the depth of her emotions and the genuine love she harbours for Lando, irrespective of the pretences of their fake relationship. The authenticity in her expression resonates with him, transcending the boundaries of their agreed-upon roles.

Her breath hitches, and in a poignant realisation of the significance of her words, Natalie leans in and plants a kiss on Lando's lips. The kiss becomes a tender exchange, her salty tears mingling with their shared moment. In this intimate gesture, the unspoken understanding between them takes on a new dimension, weaving a narrative that goes beyond the intricacies of their relationship.

“I can’t lose you, either.” Lando tells her once they break the kiss.

---------------------------

Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld @scopeiguess @tbsloneely

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 46: Lokabrenna

Summary: Loki makes an escape with you.

Word Count: 1,482

Author's Notes: We are back. 6 chapters to go and I'm going to do my best to keep to the once-a-week schedule.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Bruce Banner was a perfectly tolerable person to be around, probably. Loki could recognize this in an objective sense. He was polite, deferential even. Quite intelligent. He had a decent sense of humor, in a quiet sort of way. Easily the most amiable Avenger to have in one's company. Loki also knew, logically, that Bruce Banner and the Hulk were two separate entities that merely shared a common point of origin, on occasion. Still, despite all of this, when Loki was in the presence of the mild-mannered scientist he could think of little else aside from the marble floor of Stark's penthouse, and the sound it made as Loki passed through it.

As Bruce had stepped off the quinjet Valkyrie greeted him with a grin and a punch to the arm. "Hey, big guy." He responded with a nervous smile while rubbing his arm. "Hey." Before he had a chance to recover, Thor had swung in with one of his exuberant hugs. "Banner! Welcome back to New Asgard!" "Yeah, thanks, good to be here." Banner met Loki next and extended a hand. "Hey Loki, are you... uh, how are you?" The man seemed to be uncertain even of the question he was asking. Loki shook his hand, pleased that it seemed the discomfort wasn't entirely his to bear. "I'm well, Dr. Banner. And you?"

Loki had been made aware that Banner had played a key role in the Asgardians' escape from Ragnarok, and then Thanos after that. This explained the warm welcome he had received from the citizens of New Asgard. It did not explain the strange closeness he shared with the Valkyrie. It was Loki's understanding that she had sold the Hulk into slavery on Sakaar, yet they seemed to be on very friendly terms. There must be more to that story, but Loki considered that he may not want to know. Then again, she had also sold Thor into slavery and now she was essentially his advisor and lieutenant. Perhaps she was simply very gifted in making amends.

Part of the agreement that allowed the Æsir to settle here on Earth involved certain aspects of trade. They would be given a place to make their home, and in return the Asgardians would share their knowledge and technology with carefully-chosen human parties. Additionally, in exchange for allowing New Asgard to be built here specifically, several benefits of Stark Industries were being extended to the mortal town. Banner was here to oversee progress and move forward with these trades.

Blessedly, this meant that Loki's presence was not needed, as most of Banner's interactions were with the Æsir engineers and human officials. And so it was not much of an issue that Loki had somewhere else to be, and he quietly excused himself and slipped away from the clamor.

You had suggested another hike to spend the night on the mountain and Loki jumped at the opportunity. He hadn't told you of the dream he had when he was away at the compound, but the images from it had lingered in his mind. It was something he longed to recapture. You had invited Thor, but he declined, citing all the work that needed to be done. Loki had never been so grateful to his brother.

As he approached your cabin you were on the porch, laying out supplies that you would likely be asking Loki to transport. You straightened and smiled. "What took you so long?" "I beg your pardon." He leaned in to plant a quick kiss. "We received Bruce Banner along with a number of his apprentices today. I had to perform certain duties before I could diplomatically extricate myself." Your eyes lit up. "Bruce Banner? Bruce Banner is here?" Loki raised a brow. "Yes. He's here to learn of our technology and to grant us some of his." "Why didn't you tell me?" You turned your head toward New Asgard, peering down the road, as if you could see him from here. "Why is it of such keen interest?" "It's Bruce Banner! A world-renown scientist! The Hulk!" You eyes were still fixed down the road. Loki frowned. "Need I remind you that you dine with gods on a regular basis?" You waved dismissively. "Exactly, you're old news." He narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't test me today, little bird. Soon we will be isolated on a mountaintop, alone in the darkness, far from help." He pulled you in close. "I'll have you completely at my mercy." You bit your lip and grinned with a new excitement in your eyes. "You promise?" He chuckled, his nose grazing yours. "I would say I should teach you a lesson but something tells me you would be too willing a student."

You laughed as he released you, then turned back to the provisions you were organizing. "How long is Banner here?" "A few days, at least." "Great, we can have him for dinner tomorrow." He sighed. "Must we?" You smirked. "Aw, are you still sore from that time he beat you up?" You offered him a mocking pout. "Show me where it hurts." Loki sulked. "My pride, mostly." "Well, that's ideal. You've got plenty of that to spare." You straightened and swung a pack over your shoulder. "No reason why we can't be social." Loki folded his arms and leaned against the post of your porch. "Perhaps I simply prefer not to?" "Oh, don't worry." The mocking tone had returned to your voice. "It's just a little dinner. I promise I won't let the big scary monster get you." Loki glared. "One day, you will reach the edge of my patience." You grinned. "Not today? I'll keep looking for it." You gave him a conciliatory peck on the cheek. "Now magic up these supplies so we can hit the trail." "Your mortal frailty is the only reason I tolerate this treatment." Loki begrudgingly waved a hand and vanished the items, then followed you down the road to the trailhead.

The climb felt different this time. It felt almost clandestine with just the two of you. As if Loki was sneaking away from all of his troubles. Like you were leading him to a paradise where they didn't exist. The hike was easy, with light spirits and laughter.

You grew quiet as you reached the end, and stopped altogether before stepping out onto the terrace. You stood for a moment, looking out onto the outcrop, and it occurred to Loki that this would almost certainly be your first time here without Ash. He reached down and to your hand in his. After a moment you sighed, squeezed his hand, and managed a slight smile as you looked up at him. "Come on, let's go make camp."

After a brief stop to admire the view, the both of you set to work. You pitched the tent, Loki gathered firewood, though not nearly as much would be needed this time. Spring was waning and the nights were growing warmer. Dinner was cooked and shared, and afterward Loki found himself seated on the ground, his back against a boulder near the fire. You were stretched in front of him, with your back to his chest, your head resting back against him. His arms wrapped around you and in turn your arms held his. The two of you gazed out over the landscape, which was bathed in gold and shadow as the sun began its descent. A few quiet words were shared but it seemed agreed upon that this moment was meant to simply be absorbed.

Sequestered away here with you, this was exactly the peace Loki had craved. He wanted to tell you about his dream. He wanted you to know that for him the majesty of this place was intrinsically tied to you, so much so that when he was longing for you this is where his mind brought him in his sleep. It felt like something you should know.

Before he could find where to start, you raised a hand toward the horizon. "Hey look, your star is out." The sun had begun its retreat in earnest, and the first stars were making their appearances. Just above the horizon was the one you were pointing out. "Our star." He corrected. You turned your face toward him, a brow raised. "Our star?" He nodded. "You told me it was named 'Lokabrenna', correct? My burning?" You looked back to the horizon, as if the star could explain. "Yes, that's right." "Then it is our star." He assured, leaning forward to graze his lips against the shell of your ear. "For I burn for you." You turned to him again with a wild affection in your eyes, which he could only appreciate for a moment before you pulled him to you and kissed him with a fervor that was unexpected but immediately reciprocated.

Loki felt the rise of familiar flames.

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[nouearth]

london fog.

pairing ; clark kent x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 1094. genre; fluff. rating ; pg. warnings ; awkward interactions incoming, male reader is embarrassing, clark is nervous and likes hot drinks on a hot summer day, didn't proof-read, sorry! my toes actually curled at how cringy reader was being, i'm so sorry.

“london fog for clark?” your voice is at ease and your motions even more so as you topped the hot latte with milk foam, capping the drink with a lid after. a smile that rivaled the sunny day has been brewing on your face since you took the familiar customer’s order and thankfully, things moved at a leisurely pace today, meaning you had a few more seconds than usual to spare with him.

“how come you still called my name even though there’s no one here?” his name is clark, often comes in before work or during lunch. but these days, he’s been doing both, which you couldn’t complain about. the man’s presence makes the opening shift worth it, even if you could only speak to him for a few seconds. 

as usual, he’s in his work attire, sans the blazer that you often see him wearing in the morning, and he still looks at you with that friendly smile of his, black hair whipped back with tiny strands falling downwards as his hair wax has obviously loosened over the day. clark’s presence never failed to prepare you for the long day ahead or comfort you after an intense hour of appeasing patronizing customers. adding in his ability to look effortlessly handsome every day, his generosity in tipping, and his amiable personality, it didn’t take too long for clark to become your favorite customer.

“i just like saying your name! clark! i’ve never met anyone named clark before.” you pass the cup to him as you maintained eye contact. a gentle brush of his fingertips almost breaks your gaze, but you catch yourself, only breaking to fetch and occupy his hand with a bagged sandwich. “on the house.”

“oh- hey, i can’t! let me pay for this.” you confirm to yourself that pretty privilege was indeed real and you can’t believe you fell victim to it, but… it isn’t so bad when the culprit is a genuinely kind person. 

after taking a sip, clark clumsily sets everything down on the counter to fumble for his wallet. the sound of pennies and quarters falling onto the marbled floor echoes and you could evidently see clark’s cheeks grow redder the more coins fall, but you stop him before he could empty his wallet out even further. he stares back at you wide-eyed and you couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed, especially since he’s bigger and taller, a physique that you often associated with a bodyguard or some sort of superhero, and you don’t think those types of people tend to be flustered much… do they?

“it’s fine. we’re working on a new recipe, so consider yourself… a test rat!” you gather the fallen coins that managed to land on the counter into your palm before handing it back to him. a slight waste of time, only because clark slots them, along with a couple dollar bills, into the tip jar immediately after.

“well… uh… i’m happy to test anything if it means seeing more of you.” was he flirting? or was that a joke? maybe it was nothing?! your inexperience condemns you to overanalyzing his words, his tone, his body language, everything, and you’d figure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight with these questions running rampant.

“oh- definitely! you won’t be disappointed, clark.” you’re flustered and that reflects in your voice. a voice that was once at ease not even a minute ago quickly becomes staggered. you stammer like a school boy confessing to his crush, and you could feel your eyes shutting for a moment in embarrassment when you realize how nervous you sound. “they work me like a dog so- i’m always here, hah!” 

you snort in midst of the awkward laugh that you and clark both share and you want to hide in a hole somewhere. maybe not too deep since you still want to be alive and breathing to see clark again, but somewhere far, far, far away from this painful interaction. 

a painful interaction that makes you all the more endearing, clarks thinks to himself.

“i-uh. yeah, well hopefully not too hard to the point where you faint at work or something.” clark adds onto the topic and god, you wish you could change subjects right now.

“haha, yeah! maybe i’ll signal for superman or something!” you don’t know why but you find yourself naturally stepping back as if there was a spotlight awaiting your tony-winning performance. 

“help, help! superman! i’m gonna faint! catch me!” 

and the recipient of the most embarrassing interaction goes to…

you’re red in the face, hot in the neck, clammy in the hands, and even clark’s wholesome laughter couldn’t save you from embarrassment. you force yourself to think he’s laughing with you (and he is), not at you, and that calms you down, just a tiny bit.

“great drinks and service, and now a show. i gotta come visit more often.” clark occupies his hands once again with his drink and sandwich, nodding you off. “thank you- again. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yea-“ the sound of a bell cuts you off and you look over to the source—another customer. “y-yes! tomorrow.” 

clark’s voice is faint when he bids you goodbye, but you were already off to the other side of the cafe, tending to the customer, and eventually too focused to notice his exit when a line of customers quickly forms.

you work quickly within the next few minutes, knocking the orders down in an impressive personal record, and a huge weight lifts off your shoulders when you call out the last order of the line, until that bell chimes in again.

three more hours to go. you sighed, tired on your feet as you walk your way towards the ordering counter, greeting the customer.

“hello! welcome to-“

“i’m sorry, i lied. not tomorrow.”

you slow your approach, taking a moment to register what the familiar man was saying. “wha- clark? what do you mean?” usually you’d smile when you see him—clark—but he seems conflicted, disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual friendly demeanor, and so you could only muster a soft half-smile out of worry.

“can i see you tonight?”

clark stands tall, but not confident as he waits for your answer, nervously shifting his weight onto on his toes and heel, hands dug into his pockets.

“i-uh. yeah. i get off at five-“

“five…” clark ponders for a quick moment before nodding, gracing you with that comforting smile of his. you're at ease again, if you ignore the incredibly annoying swell in your chest.

“i’ll see you at five.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[wxnheart]

Lawyer Anon. The primarch in question, is to be honest, My evil side wants Curze, but for the sake of rationality, lets go with Horus. The sneario is essentially, you got hired by the ruling class family to essentially negotiatie the terms of joining the IMperium (the Tithe costs, the minerals and resources..) Like you managed to do such a fine job that you are offered (read: forced) to join the Crusade

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐎𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐠-𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝)

This was supposed to be your finest moment, having studied under some of the brightest minds your planet had to offer.

You prided yourself on your cerebral and diplomatic nature, having parlayed that into your current career.

You also knew it was inevitable, the planet's absorption into the growing Imperium. You kept mum on your personal thoughts on it, even though you harbored your reservations. For the preservation of your planet, you suppose.

And so, you diligently went about your duties. You considered it an honor to be chosen as mediator, especially when your peers and the planet's ruling class expressed fears that the negotiations would be... contentious to say the least.

The time came to begin the proceedings and you met... him. Or rather, his barrel chest first. Your neck hurt the rest of the day. You'd heard rumors that the Imperium would send one of their leader's vaunted sons to spearhead the negotiation process but not the Warmaster himself. Oh, dear...

And if you weren't so keen on making a good impression in public, you might've shuddered at the way he smiled at you. It was welcoming. Too welcoming. Too... nice. You felt like small prey every time you met his gaze when he looked down at you. But of course, you did; he was twice your size, and that pelt around his shoulders did him no favors. That and having to crane your neck just to look at him in the eyes was more often irritating than not.

The proceedings took longer than was anticipated; it seemed there was no end to the greed that defined the planet's rulers (because why wouldn't they want to keep their way of living) and the Imperium remained resolute in the terms they offered. How wonderful.

Despite that, however, the Warmaster was incredibly amiable to you. Too amiable but you didn't want to risk the already tenuous relationship between the two groups. Risk of planetary extinction and all that.

The Warmaster—Horus, because he insisted that you call him such—took every available opportunity to pick your brain. Or to have a conversation. Or to just... spend time with you? If this was anyone else, you wouldn't have minded much but because the man is larger than life (literally and figuratively), you're... you're a little afraid.

And you have every reason to be because the man has, on multiple occasions, glared stared down would-be interlopers in your interactions. With a smile. With an incredibly tight smile. You were lucky enough not to see the mask almost completely slip but you did wonder why some kept their distance from you...

Horus has taken to just about monopolizing your thoughts on the matter. Of course, he disguises this as advice lest another one of the nobles attempts to sway negotiations in their favor but the reality is that he'd much rather be privy to that brilliant mind of yours than anyone else.

And let's not forget that you are almost always placed nearby him during these meetings. Yes, it's intentional. Yes, it was him, HORUS—

Your free time has also pretty much been spent with Horus, learning the ways of the Imperium, its history, its culture, the vast reaches of its empire, and, admittedly, it's intriguing. You didn't understand why Horus was absolutely pleased by your comment.

...Until you did. And (FINALLY) when you managed to negotiate the terms of your planet's integration into the Imperium (without bloodshed, might I add), Horus pulled the biggest ass-pull you've ever seen (but was it, though?).

"There is one other matter that must be settled." Horus' booming voice echoed throughout the chambers. Oh, what now?

What now indeed. The trepidation on everyone else's faces turned to shock when he reached down and grabbed you up. Just like that. No warning whatsoever. Oh, dear...

"That will be all," Horus said, a warm smile on his face but a warning in his eyes. There would be no room for dissent. Not for this. "Welcome to the Imperium..." He left no room for response as he made his exit with you in tow. Or, er, in his arms.

You did have to admit his chest felt rather nice to rest against, though. And that is how you met your big-tittied girlfriend.

[naminethewriter]

To an Interesting Night

It's Day 4 of Loceit Week and I got a very funny prompt for today that was very fun to write 🤭 @loceitweek

Masterpost | Loceit Week 2024 Masterpost | Ao3

Prompt: “Do I know you?” “Yes. We had Sex.”

Summary: Janus ends up in a bar after a bad date. There he is approached by someone who knows him though he has no memory of the other in return.

Content Warnings: Talk of sex (nothing explicit however)

~~*~~

Janus people-watched from the bar with disinterest. He’d just had a miserable blind date and decided to have one or two drinks before heading back home so the time he’d spent on his outfit wasn’t a waste. The bar he’d ended up in was far from empty but not too crowded. Still, he was getting bored.

Until someone sat next to him.

“Good evening,” the man said to him with a nod before keeping an eye out for the bartender. Janus raised an eyebrow at the man’s suit and tie, a way too professional set of clothes for the establishment. But he was more annoyed by having someone so close, after all, he’d done his best to dissuade anyone else from taking the seat next to him.

He wasn’t keen on company right now.

“Do I know you?” he asked, trying to sound disgruntled enough that the guy would get the hint and leave.

He wasn’t prepared for his answer.

“Yes. We had sex.”

Janus, maybe for the first time in his life, was speechless. The man didn’t elaborate and instead finally managed to order a drink. It was placed in front of him by the time Janus regained his composure.

“If that is your idea of a joke, it is not funny,” he pressed out between grit teeth.

“I assure you, I am not,” the other shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “I do not fault you for forgetting, it has been a long while.”

“Then do enlighten me.”

“Of course. We went to the same college and met at a party. We were both slightly intoxicated but not to a degree where we couldn’t consent. You were annoyed at your roommate for something you never elaborated on and wanted to get back at him by having sex with someone in your room. You were attractive and I was in the mood, so I agreed. We had an enjoyable night and I left right after we were done.”

Janus couldn’t deny that that is something he would have done. No, it is something he had definitely done, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this man.

“If it is any consolation to you, I did not think you would remember me,” the man continued before Janus could speak up. “All our interactions were in rather dimly lit locations, and you were adamant about not keeping any sort of contact. You never even gave me your name and refused to learn mine. Instead, I was supposed to call you Deceit and I told you to call me—”

“Logic,” Janus interrupted, finally remembering something of that evening.

“Indeed. A friend of mine had picked out my outfit that evening and I had dyed my hair as a consequence of a bet, so I looked quite different than usual as well. We passed each other on campus only once more as far as I can remember and even then you gave no indication that you knew who I was despite our eyes meeting.”

“I see.” Janus was at a loss of what to do. He felt kind of bad for not remembering this man in the slightest but the other hardly seemed bothered by it. “I suppose I should thank you for helping me out then,” he settled on. “I’d like to pay for your next drink if you are amiable?”

The other man smiled.

“I will gladly take you up on your offer. Do I get to know your name this time or would you like me to call you Deceit again?”

Oh, this man was fun, Janus decided and a smirk stole itself onto his face.

“Let’s see how this night goes first and if I still like talking to you in the morning, I might just share it with you.”

“I do like a challenge. Very well, Deceit. To an interesting night then.” The other held out his drink for Janus to clink his own glass against.

“To an interesting night indeed, Logic.”

[angel-gidget]

Girl please make a part two!!! I know it’s been years but likeee how does Tim interact with Diane??

Fast-Forwarding to Six

[Tim angst + fluff, Tim/Cassie established]

He was trying to be romantic when he brought Cassie flowers at sunset upon returning to San Fran. She had smiled, set the vase on the table, given him a quick kiss and then flew out the window to help with some Titan's business.

He got a text two minutes later reminding him that Donna would be babysitting tomorrow.

So for tonight, it's him and the baby.

Diane keeps leaning over as if trying to escape his arms, and in less than a second, he realizes it's because she wants to touch the flowers very, very badly.

So he leans forward and lets her. When she still can't seem to grasp the daisy petals, he leans forward and detaches a couple for her. She takes a solid minute to just...pet them. Like the texture of a flower petal is the singular most fascinating and soothing thing in the world.

So Tim gives it a try. Underrated experience, he realizes. His daughter may be on to something.

A factual part of his mind informs him that if he were the small child trying to play with his mother's flowers, his parents would have batted his hand away and told him to go play on his own. Or to better yet, go do something educational.

He's been having a lot of thoughts about his parents lately. Memories drip in like a leaky faucet and ripple out to occupy his mind.

It's only when Diane switches gears and tries to put a bit of daisy in her mouth that he stops her. She protests, and he responds by distracting her with a game. Peek-a-boo and roll-the-ball and a cascade of simple pastimes he has no memory of doing when he was a child.

But he must have, surely?

Everyone warns him that she's going to grow fast. Not speedster-fast, thanks to her entirely human makeup, but still... a warning from Superman rings in his mind: "You just... blink and she'll be six. You'll see."

It didn't seem like a good time to tell Clark that six was the age at which Tim's own parents started trusting him to stay at home by himself. He can't picture Clark Kent leaving Jon home alone at six. Not that Jon wasn't a good kid--he was--and is a very good man now. But... maybe it isn't about trust.

He watches his daughter as she grips a squish-ball with all the focus she had reserved for a flower petal two minutes ago. He tries to picture her grown past the height of his own elbow, running around, saying sentences with the occasional mispronounced word, her hair cropped just long enough for pigtails...

He tries to picture just leaving her like that. Alone. For weeks. It creates a taught grapple line in his chest, and it makes him want to shove his bo staff through someone' skull.

Because it's unacceptable.

Bart zips in and finds them like that, Tim staring at the floorboards like he's abstractly contemplating murder, and Dianne about to cry because her ball rolled beyond her reach (never mind that she threw it there).

And because Bart is truly the best friend a guy could ask for, he ignores Tim's brooding entirely and scoops up lil' Diane and her ball, and proceeds to somehow juggle the squishy toy one-handed.

Cassie and Kon fly in simultaneously. When Kon amiably claps his shoulder, Tim feels a hint of TTK checking him over, making sure there's no physical reason Tim is tensed up like a lasso around a perp.

Tim merely shakes his head, nodding towards the baby. Kon takes the hint and joins Bart in creating a two-man variety show for Diane's entertainment.

Cassie doesn't stop to take any cues from him. She just drags him to the couch and pulls him down on top of her. Strong demigoddess hands massage their way into his hair, along his shoulders, stroking until he lets the tension go.

Exhaustion hits almost immediately after. But still--because it's important--he murmurs against her chest anyways.

"Taking myself off Gotham patrol roster tomorrow. Shoulda... shoulda done it earlier, but tomorrow--yeah."

The gentle scratching against his scalp pauses as Cassie speaks, "Are you sure? Because we have help. The whole Titans roster is willing to help with babysi--"

He looks her in the eye, and Tim's too tired to guess at exactly what his own expression conveys, but it's enough to give Cassie pause.

"I'm sure." he says, steadier than before. "I'll be on call for big emergencies. Earthquakes. Full-scale Arkham breakouts. But... no scheduled leaving her. Not... not regularly."

Cassie nods and gives him a warm smile that tells him he's done something good and right.

He feels the love circling through their living room like a vibrant living thing as sleep flows over him.

-e.n.d.-

[taeyamayang]

Could I request the “i like being close to you. you’re warm“ prompt for kuroo? Maybe the reader isn’t really affectionate so it means a lot. Thank you!!

your touch burns

ㅡkuroo tetsurou is not used to physical affection, not from you.

as he scans the congested room for your familiar face which rendered him to no avail, kuroo figured that he has once again fallen into one of your tricks; that beneath your amiable smile are empty words framed to delude him. how could he miss it?

you told him that you'll be at bokuto and akaashi's place for their engagement party at eight thirty but as kuroo flicks his wrist, tugging the sleeves of his fitted button up polo to reveal his lavish watch he snorts. eight thirty my ass. the hands of the wrist watch tells him that it's five minutes before nine. if only without the watchful eyes of possible investors, business partners, and renowed athletes kuroo would have rolled his eyes countless times.

his grip tightens around the glass of wine before he brings the rim to his mouth. his bottom lip touches the cold glass as the bitter after taste of the old wine warms his throat. the coach of MSBY notices him from a distance and instantly kuroo regrets making eye contact with him.

"kuroo-san! what a rare sight for a busy man outside working hours!" the coach walks towards him, his hand in the air ready for a handshake. at the exact time, a person who should have arrived half an hour ago finally decides to show up.

the two hour long drive from your workplace to the couple's house is not enough to mentally prepare yourself for what you are about to deal with. kenma couldn't make it today since he has an important commitment to attend to. sue him for leaving you to carry the responsibility of interacting with strangers, but not just strangers but high-men and women of Japan's leading industries on your shoulder. if the gamer is here, socializing would be much bareable.

you and kenma know that in your circle of three, kuroo included, that the latter has the skill of keeping conversations whereas the two of you are nothing but a decorative sort next to the him. since the famous streamer is not attending, anxiety that comes with meeting new people builds in your stomach.

fortunately, the first pair of eyes you meet upon pushing the main door of their house open belongs to a close kin and owner of the humble home.

akaashi keiji.

"(y/n)! i'm glad you could make it." akaashi greets you with the biggest smile almost that it brightens the room, but not nearly as glimmering as the silver ring wrapped around his finger.

"congrats on the engagement!" you cheer, glancing at his ring finger.

a slight blush forms on his cheeks as akaashi touches the silver emblem. "all these wouldn't be possible if it weren't for you. thank you, our cupid."

"tsk, you and bokuto would find your way into each other even if i didn't step it. i was a mere catalyst and not a cupid. all i had to do is point out the obvious heart eyes bo is shooting you that you, on the other hand, were oblivious to."

"i thought that's how he treats everyone in the team. kou has a kind heart, i wouldn't think he's treating me special 'cause he's good to all." the corner of akaashi's lips tug upward as his memory brings him back to high school when he played as the ace's setter.

"but you were wrong." you retort.

"and you were right." his smile grows. he continues. "by the way, you should stay the night. the long drive back home is not safe at this hour. kuroo will be sleeping here too."

you consider akaashi's generous offer. the writer is right. other than the long drive, exhaustion from work and the party may lure you to slumber. besides, tomorrow is a weekend it wouldn't hurt to spend it with old friends to catch up with.

"sure, i'll take the guest room." akaashi pauses at your response.

"kuroo is already taking it. you can sleep at the other room although it's a bit smaller than the guest room. don't worry i'll put away some boxes to make more space for you or you can make arrangements with kuroo, switch rooms i mean." akaashi knows you, you dislike tight spaces and you're uncomfortable of the feeling of being isolated in a small room.

"no, it's fine you don't have to worry about that. i'll sleep with him" you wave your hand out.

"in the same room...are you sure?" eyes studying your face.

"yeah, it's fine. it's just tetsu. he always seems to be an exception to my rules, anyway." as you nonchalantly shrug, akaashi's other half steals the scene.

"(Y/N)!" bokuto's voice rings from a point far from you. his spikey grey and raven hair sticks out from the crowd aside from the fact that the man is built larger than the average person making him easier to spot in a packed room. "i'm so happy to see you!" his built arms wraps around your body as he lifts you off the floor. and when he puts you down, he realizes that despite his enormous hug you didn't make an effort to return it.

"still not a hugger?" bokuto raises a brow as he pouts his bottom lips.

"i can give you a hug but you should tell me in advanced so i can mentally prepare myself." you suggest which makes akaashi chuckle.

"you're like a goat, (y/n)."

"why a goat, love?" bokuto turns to him in question.

"some goats freeze and fall over when they're startled. the condition is called myotonia congenita if i'm not mistaken." akaashi explains as his eyes turns crescent moons. pure admiration dust his glowing face.

"myo- myota- myoto- what?!" bokuto endearingly tilts his head in confusion thus earning a heartful laugh from the other.

"come here." akaashi coos and cups bokuto's cheeks. the latter bends his back to level his gaze. "darling, aren't you cute?" he says, before placing a kiss on top of his nose.

"alright, i had enough. i'm going home." you jokingly say in a bitter tone. there's nothing more that could make you devastatingly single than two love birds in their own bubble in front of you.

"aw, (y/n) you should not lose hope! i'm sure one day you'll find your soulmate. oh! OH! i have an idea! maybe you should start dating!" bokuto suggests as if it isn't the most obvious way to get into a relationship. if finding and dating someone is as easy as saying it then you would have been married by now.

"i'm not as lucky as the two of you. finding love at first shot? couldn't be me." you curl your lips. bokuto sympathizes with you as his brows press together.

"(y/n)." akaashi suddenly interrupts in a calm tone almost that it sounded serious. you hum in question as you lock eyes. "kuroo is talking to MSBY's coach over there for a while now. he might need someone to pull him out of the coversation." he cheekily winks.

without second thoughts, you brush shoulders with every visitor in the room that blocks your way to him. you murmur excuses as you keep the back of your target on lock. getting closer to him, his voice becomes audible. the resonating deep laugh coming from him is the only thing you can hear as though the room falls silent. you notice him shift from one foot to the other, a habit formed since he started working with men who take hours talking and also a cue that he's growing restless.

thirty minutes late and yet you're the prince to a damsel in distress.

"goodevening sir, sorry to interrupt your conversation but may i excuse this gentleman for a minute?" your appearance startles kuroo but to him what's even more surprising is how you took the initiative to step into a conversation.

"sure! sure! anything for gorgeous person like you." the coach walks out, holding his belly as he chortles.

even though your plan worked smoothly, a sharp gaze at peers at you. "eighty thirty, huh." kuroo says leading you to a spot where there less people. his hand burns at the curve of your back. it's barely a skin-to-skin contact but you can feel the warmth eminating to the fabric of your top and to the small of your back.

instantly, your mind goes blank.

"you should be grateful i'm here." you attempt to stray your thoughts from focusing on his touch but the burn is too much for you not to notice.

"i actually am. how's the drive?" it does not help that kuroo simply agrees with your teasing. it flutters your heart knowing that he's glad to see you here. you missed him so much.

a man in his late thirties bumps into your shoulder, a hint of alcohol lets you know that he isn't in the right senses to steady his feet. though you forgive him for being careless, kuroo does not. he gives the tipsy man a knowing look and the latter easily catches on making him utter an apology before swaying his way out.

"stick closer to me." it isn't a request but a command for you to do so. kuroo has always been protective of you although he's often the first to playfully bully you when an opportunity comes.

his long slender fingers glide from the edge of your shoulder down to your arms, gently he presses your body closer to him as he leads you to a spot. at this point, it's even harder to ignore the blaze that sets on his fingertips. has he always had this effect on you or was it the heat from the crowd that is making your cheeks flush? as you wonder his perfume clouds your thoughts. he still wears the perfume you got him on his birthday last year.

"so, how was it?" kuroo asks once he halts next to an empty couch in front of a fireplace. your body grow cold when his hand detaches from your arm leaving a trace of warmth.

"what?" you blink at him confused.

"the drive here, i was asking about it. were you listening?" he shoots a brow with a sharp tone.

you were but your focus was elsewhere.

"it's fine. it's exhausting." you attempt to tear your eyes away from him but before you could do so he gestures for you to sit.

kuroo follows suit but he stares at you like an ornament he has never seen before. his keen eyes studies your face which rendered you suddenly conscious. "are you sick? you look beat red."

"yes, no, i mean n-no. i'm not sick." you turn your head to look at the fireplace but you could still see him staring at you from your peripheral vision.

"let me check." kuroo places his hand over your forehead. he runs his tongue inside his mouth as he makes a call. "your forehead is cold but your cheeks..." suddenly, he cups your cheeks with both of his hands. "they're hot."

caught off guard, you slap his hand away from your face as you glare at him. unable to stand his intensed gaze, you scowl while looking at the fireplace ahead of you. nevertheless, kuroo chuckles. he knows you don't like being touched without your permission and you know it too well that he cupped your cheeks on purpose just to make fun of you but little did he know that you're scowling more than because of his unconsented touch. you're baffled with the way your pulse is acting.

the surge of blood travelling through your nerves is not helping. unpattered breathing gushes out from your mouth and you wish to the stars above that kuroo doesn't notice because if he does, you have no idea what lame excuse to tell him.

swiftly, two women around your age sits next to kuroo on the couch. the two greeted the man with friendly nods before sitting in poised manner, nothing that you could pull off. kuroo is famous to women and more than that, when the prominent business man is aware that the woman is interested in him he loves to flirt. it is mere trivial to say that the two girls next to him find him attractive as they whisper to each other and steal glances from him from time to time but the apple of their eyes, kuroo, has his attention poured out to someone else.

you.

for the first time since the burn of his touch clouded your mind, you had the courage to meet with his eyes. when he was about to say somethingㅡmouth opening, you cut him off with tug on his sleeve.

"come closer." your eyes holding his stare. kuroo gulps as he finally shares the heat. when he scoots closer, you place the side of your head on his shoulder. you could feel his body tense at the sudden affection but he didn't do anything to stop you. you shut your eyes to simmer in his warmth. "i like being close to you. you're warm."

"should we cuddle later in bed?" his joke backlashes when you answer him yes without missing a beat. he bites on his molars as you snake an arm around his.

"i missed you." your mouth suddenly utters but before you regret saying those words, kuroo replies in softer tone.

"i missed you too." he says as he lays his head on top of yours.

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