#Act 3 just feels like a chore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

julietsf1 · 1 month ago

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Strawberry Season - Lando Norris x Reader

summary: she was his plus-one, his accessory, his afterthought. but Lando Norris? he made her laugh before her boyfriend even noticed she’d stopped smiling (6.7k words)

content: sad/comfort, slow burn, he falls first, stuck in bad relationship (non-graphic), mutual pining, mention of fish!

AN: I was having a nostalgic day and suddenly I remembered Shawn Mendes exists. listened to Treat You Better and now boom this was made. big kiss to you all!! don't forget you deserve someone who makes you smile <3

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The Hôtel Hermitage had a way of dressing the evening in silk and scent—amber light dancing off champagne flutes, velvet murmurs weaving between notes of string quartets, the faint hush of the sea just beyond the terrace.

You arrived on your boyfriend's arm, perfectly polished, smelling faintly of oud and confidence. Your gown—a midnight blue silk with delicate beading at the shoulders—glistened like the reflection of stars on still water. He, in a tuxedo he hadn’t even ironed himself, gave you a cursory once-over, the kind usually reserved for window displays or weather forecasts.

"You clean up well. When you try," he remarked, the words soaked in backhanded charm and just enough volume to make the sommelier glance over with subtle disapproval. "Didn’t expect that dress to actually work on you."

Then he kissed your temple like one might stamp a document—detached, obligatory—and peeled off toward a group of men with hedge funds and zero personalities, tossing the comment like a grenade dipped in cologne. He chuckled at his own wit before they even reacted, already anticipating the hollow laughter of men who mistook cruelty for charisma.

You blinked once, twice, then turned on your heel and made for the bar.

"One strawberry martini, please," you said to the bartender, your voice calm and glossy, though your chest felt like it was holding its breath. The bartender gave a subtle nod and began working in quiet sympathy.

You leaned your elbow on the marble and exhaled. Your reflection in the mirrored back wall looked elegant and mildly amused. That, at least, you could live with.

"Your boyfriend’s tux looks like it’s been through customs, dry-cleaned with a rock, and ironed with a shoe."

You turned. The man beside you held a glass of something expensive and looked far too pleased with himself. He was, annoyingly, the kind of handsome that didn’t need to try. Hair—perfectly careless. Smile—dangerously self-aware. The overall vibe? Trouble, tailored in what I assume is Tom Ford.

You laughed, sharp and immediate. "Do you know I spent half the afternoon trying to convince him to iron that shirt? Offered him a steamer. He looked personally victimized by the concept of chores. Hopeless."

He looked delighted. "So this was a collaborative failure. Now I feel bad for mocking it. Sort of."

"Don’t. I made one polite suggestion and he acted like I’d insulted his entire lineage. I refuse to be held responsible for his fashion choices," you said, the corners of your mouth finally giving in to a smile. The knot in your chest loosened just a little—this was the most fun you’d had all evening.

"I can’t tie my own ties," he offered casually. "So really, who am I to talk?"

"What do you do, then? Just let your girlfriend do it for you?"

"No girlfriend, just clip-ons. Or my mate George. He’s so posh he probably learned to tie a bow tie before he could tie his own shoes."

You laughed again, lighter this time. The sound surprised you with how easy it felt.

"Well," you said, "I can't even walk in my So Kates for an hour, so I’m in no position to judge anyone tonight."

His eyebrows lifted like you'd said you walked here barefoot. "That’s borderline inhumane. Those are incredibly uncomfortable, right?"

"Horrible," you admitted, sipping your drink. "But the real perk is that I now have a perfectly valid excuse to leave this party in about thirty minutes."

He tapped his glass against yours. "To noble suffering."

"And men who can’t tie ties."

"Ouch. That was personal."

You grinned, the martini smoothing out something tight in your chest. The conversation rolled along like it had always been waiting for an excuse to begin.

"Lando," he said suddenly, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Lando," you replied, taking it, your grip easy, your smile laced with light amusement.

You tilted your head slightly. "I think I recognise you—from the racing, right?"

His brow quirked, caught somewhere between pleased and intrigued. "Guilty."

You sipped your drink, eyes glinting. "Well, it’s easy to remember a face like that."

"In the positive way?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Please."

His posture straightened just a touch. The smirk didn’t leave his face, but something about it softened at the edges.

"I’ll try not to let that go to my head," he said, a beat late, his voice just a little warmer, his eyes twinkling amused.

"You already did."

"Unfair. That was disarming. You’re very good at this."

"At what?" you said, feigning innocence.

"Catching me off guard in a way that’s... annoyingly effective."

"I have a talent," you said, sipping your drink.

"You do," he replied, gaze lingering just a second too long before he added, "and you’re very distracting."

You arched a brow. "Good distracting or 'tripped-over-my-own-feet' distracting?"

"Bit of both. Still deciding."

You laughed, shaking your head, the edge of your smile refusing to leave.

And just like that, the night took on a different hue. The room still sparkled, but its edges softened. You talked about Monaco in winter, about awful hotel carpets, about how Lando once tried to cook pasta in a kettle. There were no pauses, no polite silences. It was ridiculous and lovely and utterly unserious.

At some point, your boyfriend reappeared in the distance, laughing too loudly with someone whose blazer had dragons embroidered on the sleeves.

Lando clocked it instantly. "Should I spill something on him? Not on purpose, obviously. But also maybe very much on purpose."

"Tempting," you said.

He set his glass down. "But we’re too elegant for that."

"Allegedly."

The music swelled, a slow turn from something glittering into something that signaled the end of the night.

You sighed and glanced at the crowd. "I should go find him."

Lando leaned against the bar with a smirk. "Are you sure? He gives off strong 'brings up his net worth in casual conversation' energy."

You smirked. "You’re terrible."

"But right."

"No comment."

As you walked away, he called after you, "Next time, I’m bringing backup shoes for you."

You didn’t turn. But your smile stayed with you, long after the violins began their last swell.

…

The paddock terrace buzzed with the sort of energy only Monaco could host—where money didn’t whisper, it practically shouted through linen suits and Hermès bags, and everything smelled faintly of jet fuel and overpriced champagne.

You arrived on your boyfriend’s arm, your heels clicking softly on the polished concrete, your dress catching the breeze in a way that had drawn more than a few glances already. The adrenaline in the air was contagious. You couldn’t help it—you were excited. This was your home turf, after all. Monaco at its absolute peak.

You leaned over slightly, catching your first glimpse of the pit lane just below the terrace’s glass railing. The sound, the scent, the movement—it all made your heart flicker.

“This is amazing,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “I can actually feel the vibration of the engines from here.”

Your boyfriend barely glanced up from his phone. “Yeah it’s whatever,” he muttered. “Look—those guys in the corner, that’s who I need to speak to. Go entertain yourself, will you?”

You opened your mouth, but he was already off, striding toward a group of Loro Piana-clad finance types who looked like they’d never broken a sweat in their lives. One of them gave you a cursory glance before turning his attention back to whatever new tax loophole they were dissecting.

Left alone, you drifted toward the edge of the terrace, your fingers lightly brushing the glass. You looked in the distance, taking in the beautiful track. The air that smelled like tyre smoke. Somewhere, a commentator’s voice crackled through loudspeakers.

Then you heard it—cutting through the din like it was aimed just for you.

“Hey, Strawberry!”

You blinked, turned your head.

Down in the pit lane, Lando was looking directly at you, leaning casually against the garage barrier with his helmet tucked under one arm and a grin that bordered on criminal. “Good to see you again!” he called up, already looking far too pleased with himself.

Your smile widened despite yourself.

He pointed upward, voice still carrying. “What? You thought I’d forget your cocktail of choice? Strawberry martini, wasn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of you. A few heads turned to see who he was yelling at. You gave a little wave, pretending not to enjoy the attention.

"Fancy seeing you here."

“You look bored up there!” he shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth for dramatic flair. “Wanna come down and see where the fun actually happens?”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued.

He motioned toward the stairs behind you. “Come on, Strawberry. I’ll even let you wear the team radio.”

You glanced back toward the terrace. Your boyfriend was still deep in conversation, probably pitching himself like a startup, laughing with one hand in his pocket and the other balancing a drink he hadn’t even offered you.

So, you turned back to Lando—who was now dramatically miming putting on headphones like he was in a music video—and tilted your head like you were still considering it.

"Alright then," you called down. "But if I trip in these heels, I’m blaming you."

"I'll catch you," he yelled back, utterly unfazed. “Or I’ll sue the FIA for putting stairs in a paddock. Either way—worth it.”

You made your way down the metal staircase, the heels clicking like castanets, and by the time you reached the bottom, Lando was already holding out a pair of headphones and an access bracelet with a kind of smug reverence.

“For you, madame,” he said, bowing slightly. “Your official ticket to the chaos.”

You put on the bracelet with a smile, already feeling a little lighter.

“For the record,” he said, holding out the headset, “I don’t offer these to just anyone.”

You took them. “Oh, so I’m special.”

“Undoubtedly.”

You slipped the headphones on as he stepped back, hands in the pockets of his race suit, clearly satisfied.

“Let me guess,” you said, voice a little louder now with the headset in place, “you do this for all the guests who look mildly unimpressed by the view upstairs?”

“No,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Just the ones I secretly hope stick around.”

You gave him a look—curious, not skeptical—and he added quickly, “Because you’ve got good race-watching energy. Very calm. Slightly elegant. Makes the garage look better.”

“Right,” you said, clearly amused. “You just want me to make you look cool.”

“Impossible task,” he admitted with a grin. “But I admire your optimism.”

The garage buzzed around you—technicians moving with purpose, radios crackling, tyres getting shuffled like oversized poker chips. And yet, somehow, everything in your little corner felt... light.

“Not gonna lie,” he murmured, lowering his voice, “I like stealing a few quiet minutes when I can.”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot during weekends like this I can imagine.”

He glanced at you, thoughtful for a moment, like he wanted to ask something but decided against it. Then his expression shifted back to its usual mischief.

“Want to see something fun?”

You blinked. “Fun in a normal person way, or in a ‘you drive 300km/h for fun’ way?”

“Both,” he said, tilting his head toward the car in the middle of the garage—sleek, low, and absolutely radiating menace. “Come on. Get in. You’ve earned it.”

You blinked. “Earned it how?”

“For surviving the upstairs crowd without launching yourself off the terrace,” he said, already grinning. “Also, I feel like you'd suit it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just want to see me try to climb into that thing in a dress.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, unapologetic. “But I’ll make it look like I’m being a gentleman helping you in. Good for my PR.”

You laughed but still let him offer his hand. His grip was steady, warm, guiding you in with an ease that made the whole moment feel weirdly... natural.

Inside, the cockpit felt surreal—like slipping into another universe. Tight, sharp, oddly comfortable in a way that made you sit up straighter.

You looked up at him. “I feel like I need clearance from air traffic control.”

Lando smirked. “You look good in it.”

You raised a brow. “Is this part of your usual garage tour?” He grinned. “Only the deluxe version. Very limited availability.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He crouched beside the car, arms resting on the edge, expression suddenly playful. “Alright—race start. Lights out. Whole world watching. What’s your move?”

You pretended to think. “Adjust my lip gloss. Then floor it.”

He burst out laughing. “Unreal. No notes.”

You smiled, settling back slightly in the seat, the hum of the garage around you fading into a softer kind of focus. His eyes lingered on you just a second longer than necessary, making you feel a bit warmer than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Okay,” you said eventually. “I like your version of fun.”

“Told you.”

Just then, you heard your name.

Lando glanced up behind you, his smile dimming just slightly.

You followed his gaze.

There, at the top of the stairs, your boyfriend had finally noticed. Arms folded. Sunglasses pushed down just enough to show a flicker of something more than irritation.

You shifted slightly in the seat, your back instinctively straightening, your smile thinning.

“I should probably head back,” you murmured, glancing up again. “Before that turns into a thing.”

Lando’s eyes were still on you.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice low and smooth. “I kind of like that I get under his skin.”

You gave him a warning look, but your smile gave you away.

“He’s... not great with this sort of thing.”

Lando leaned one arm casually against the car, just close enough that his shoulder brushed the edge of yours. “What sort of thing? Someone actually talking to you? Enjoying you?”

You swallowed. “He’s just protective.”

“He didn’t look all that interested twenty minutes ago.”

You didn’t respond.

Lando straightened up slightly, his grin flickering into something more assured, less teasing. “You don’t have to explain it. But I’m not sorry for this.”

You looked at him—really looked at him—and for a second, you forgot the tension humming above the pit lane.

You laughed softly. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said, grinning.

You climbed out carefully—again with his help, though he tried very hard not to smirk when your heel caught slightly on the floor.

“Thanks for inviting me down,” you said, adjusting your dress.

He nodded. “Anytime. Next time you should stay for the race.”

You paused at that, surprised, amused, and... something else. Then you turned, stepping away, the noise of the pit building back around you.

“Bye, Strawberry!” he called after you, voice light and full of sunshine. “Try not to break hearts on your way up!”

…

The lunch reservation was for 13:00. The cancellation came at 12:52.

“Something came up. Just a quick game at the club. Have to raincheck.”

You stared at the message like it might change if you blinked hard enough. It didn’t. The text sat there on your screen, casual and infuriating, like a shrug in Helvetica.

The maître d’ at the café had already asked if you’d like to be seated twice. You smiled politely, murmured a no thank you, and slipped out before you started feeling more humiliated than hungry.

The sky was unfairly pretty for a bad day—clear and soft, with sunbeams brushing the cobblestones as if Monaco itself had no idea someone had just bailed on you for nine holes and overpriced cigars.

You didn’t want to go home. You weren’t angry, not quite. Just tired in a way that lingered behind your ribs. So, instead, you wandered a few streets over—past a bookstore, a gelato stand, and finally, a small flower shop with wide windows and hydrangeas stacked like frosting.

You paused. Then pushed the door open.

The scent hit you first—green, sweet, almost cold from the water buckets lining the floor. Peonies, roses, lavender, tulips. All in quiet conversation. The florist gave you a gentle bonjour from behind a counter cluttered with ribbon and stems.

You wandered aimlessly. No plan. No occasion. You just needed to feel like something soft could still be held in your hands.

You reached toward a bouquet of pale pink peonies—petals feathered and ruffled, like they were mid-sigh.

“I was hoping you’d go for those.”

You turned—half startled, half already smiling.

Lando was standing in the doorway, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, a grin threatening the corner of his mouth. He was wearing a zip-up and trainers, casually gorgeous in the way some people just are when they’re not trying.

“I was going to say,” he added, stepping further inside, “you look like someone who could use a bouquet.”

“You following me now?”

He shrugged. “Just happened to be across the street. Monaco’s small and you have a way of catching my eye.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you.

Lando stepped past you and plucked the peonies from the bucket like he’d been sent here by divine instruction.

“Don’t,” you started, watching as he pulled out his card.

“I insist,” he said smoothly, not even looking back. “They look like you.”

That made you pause. “Soft and overpriced?”

He smirked. “Chic, delicate, vaguely intimidating… but in a very classy way.”

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as he paid, thanked the florist with a grin that probably earned him three free carnations, and handed the bouquet to you like it was an Olympic medal.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

You looked down at the flowers, then back at him. “I was just trying to walk off a lunch that didn’t happen.”

“Rough day?”

You nodded once.

He hesitated. Then: “Come on. Let me walk you home. Or somewhere. I’m excellent at distracting people.”

You blinked. “Aren’t you busy?”

“Not even a little.”

You stepped outside together, the late sun catching the edge of your bouquet. He fell into step beside you like it was instinct.

“So,” he said, as you turned the corner, “what car would you never be caught dead in?”

You squinted. “Like… ever?”

“Yes. Immediate judgment. Go.”

You thought. “Anything that looks like it was designed by someone who hates joy. Or a Fiat Multipla.”

“Very specific. I respect it.” He nodded solemnly. “For me, it’s the ones with faces. Like, cartoon villain faces. Headlights that judge you.”

You burst out laughing. “What kind of car trauma are you working through?”

“Deep and unresolved,” he said gravely. “I once had a rental that made me feel like it wanted to eat me. Never again.”

The conversation spiraled from there—into ugly rims, hideous spoilers, the tragedy of beige leather interiors. Every few steps, Lando pointed out a car and gave it a nickname.

"That one’s definitely a Greg. Greg works in insurance and never tips."

You laughed. Actually laughed. The kind that catches you off guard and warms your ribs a little.

And then—your phone buzzed in your bag.

You glanced down. His name lit up the screen.

Lando noticed the pause.

You looked at the call. Then pressed the side button, letting it disappear. You didn’t say anything about it, and he didn’t ask.

But he smiled. Just slightly.

It was the quietest rebellion you’d made in a while. And it felt... right.

A few minutes later, as you reached your street, you slowed.

“This is me.”

He nodded, eyes flicking up toward the front of your building like he was memorising it for later. Or just being nosy. Hard to say.

“Thanks for—well, for all of that,” you said, lifting the peonies slightly.

“Anytime,” he replied, and you believed him.

You turned to go.

“Oh, and hey,” he called, stepping backwards down the street, that familiar grin slipping into place. “If you ever need help judging more terrible cars…”

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it lightly in your direction. You caught it—his number, scribbled on a business card with Lando (flower expert) scrawled beneath in messy handwriting.

“…now you know where to find me,” he finished.

You looked down at the card, then back up.

“I do now,” you said, smiling—soft, amused, and something else you didn’t want to name yet.

And you didn’t look back until your door had closed behind you—and the peonies were already in water.

…

Your birthday started with a buzz—literally, from your phone. Noon. A text.

Happy bday x

No call. No emoji. No punctuation enthusiasm. Just lowercase indifference and a kiss like a formality. Like he'd done his civic duty and could now go about his day in peace.

By the time your boyfriend actually arrived at the party—a whopping two hours late, no explanation—you were already knee-deep in hugs, flowers, Aperol spritzes, and the cake was nearly finished.

The rooftop was busy. Sun-drenched. Monaco glittered in the background like it knew it was part of the aesthetic. Friends mingled, music hummed, someone had started making mimosas in a blender for reasons no one could quite explain.

And then there was Lando.

He’d arrived on time, casually cool in a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of sunglasses perched in his curls.

You hadn’t expected him to come, not really. But you’d invited him anyway—half as a joke, half because he was one of the only people lately who made things feel lighter. Since the flower shop, you’d been texting—mostly memes, random complaints about ugly cars, and his very intense opinions on croissants. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d started looking forward to his name lighting up your screen more than you should’ve.

So when he appeared with a cheeky smile and a gift bag in tow, you nearly forgot to keep pretending you weren’t waiting for him.

“Hey, birthday girl,” he said, putting the bag on the gift table. “No refunds or returns.”

You grinned. “Perfect. I was just saying how I wanted to make my own life harder today.”

“Glad to contribute.”

Your boyfriend showed up five minutes later.

No apology, no excuse. Just sunglasses, a glance around, and a distracted kiss on the cheek before he handed you an envelope.

Inside was a gift card. For skincare.

“I figured you’d appreciate this,” he said, loud enough for the people around you to hear. “Don’t want an old lady by my side, yeah?”

Someone laughed awkwardly. You didn’t.

You smiled. Thinly. The kind that feels more like a paper cut than anything resembling joy.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, folding the card and tucking it into your bag.

Lando had seen it. The whole thing. He didn’t say anything at first—just sipped his drink, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses.

A few minutes later, he drifted close, nudged your elbow lightly, and said, “Mind if I borrow the birthday girl for a sec?”

You blinked. “Sure?”

He led you away from the crowd and toward the quieter corner of the terrace, near the railing. The music faded behind you. The breeze picked up, cool against your neck.

“I really wanted to personally give this before I have to leave.”

He pulled something small from his little gift bag.

A Cartier box.

You looked at him, suddenly cautious. “Lando, what—”

“Relax,” he said, grinning. “I didn’t mortgage a yacht or anything.”

He flipped the box open with a little dramatic flair.

Inside: a sleek, elegant watch—timeless and perfectly understated, the metal catching the sunlight just enough to glow. When you looked closer, you spotted it—on the back of the face, engraved in the corner, a tiny strawberry.

You looked back up at him.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets now. “So you know when it’s time to leave,” he said lightly, then winked. “Or when it’s time to stay.”

You laughed, a real one this time, head tipped back just slightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I should be offended,” he murmured, carefully fastening the clasp around your wrist. “But you are right.”

“Don’t say anything yet,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “I have a speech.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” He stepped a little closer, enough that you had to tilt your chin just slightly to keep looking at him. “Won’t say it’s well prepared, though.”

You glanced up. “No?”

He shrugged, then looked at you—not performative, just sincere with a glint of trouble behind it. “I figured you already knew. That you’re kind. And bright. And that you maybe make half of Monaco feel slightly boring in comparison.”

Your eyes caught his, something warm pooling between the humour and whatever was quietly rising beneath it.

“But also,” he added, tone shifting back to the familiar grin, “you’ve tolerated me for weeks, so I figured you deserved a prize.”

“Ah,” you said. “So it’s a pity watch.”

“It’s a prestigious pity watch,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, fingers brushing over the charm. “Truly.”

A few friends called your name in the distance, but you didn’t move yet.

When you finally hugged him goodbye, it lingered. A second too long. Not enough to make it obvious—but enough that you both noticed.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hand pressed lightly against your back, and neither of you made a joke this time.

And that’s when it hit you. That soft, uncomfortable, quiet truth slowly creeping up on you.

You didn’t want to go back to the party.

You didn’t want to go back to him.

You just wanted to stay in that warm, safe, ridiculous moment a little longer.

…

It had been one of those dinners where the wine flowed more freely than the conversation, where the seating was all wrong, and the playlist too curated to feel spontaneous. You’d arrived on time, makeup set, dress clinging just right, genuinely hoping the night might turn things around.

He had promised he’d come.

You’d waited. You made polite conversation with strangers. You checked your phone under the table every ten minutes. At 10:14pm, a message finally came.

Running late. Take a cab? x

You stared at it. The ‘x’ annoyed you most—like it could soften the blow. Like it meant anything at this point.

You slipped out quietly, offering the host a graceful excuse. No one really noticed. You walked down the hill alone, heels clicking against wet stone. The rain started halfway to the road—first soft, then persistent, warm but unrelenting.

By the time you reached the corner, you were soaked. Your jacket was thin and decorative. Your hair clung to your cheeks. A cab passed. You raised your hand too late. Another didn’t even slow.

Then headlights curved around the bend.

A sleek black car eased up to the curb, quiet and smug.

The window rolled down.

“Need a ride, Cinderella?”

Lando.

You blinked at him through the rain.

He was in a hoodie, hair damp, wearing Nike slides like he’d rolled straight out of a student flat. His smile was all teeth and trouble, curls damp at the edges, and yet he looked exactly like what you didn’t know you needed.

You exhaled through a laugh. “What are you even doing here?”

“Padel,” he said simply, “with the boys. Charles insisted we needed some cardio. Alex brought protein shakes. It was big.”

You didn’t move.

He nudged the door open from the inside. “Get in. You look like a drenched sad poodle.”

You slid into the passenger seat, wet fabric against warm leather. The door thunked shut, muting the storm instantly.

The cabin smelled faintly of eucalyptus and sweat and jasmine air freshener. It was... comforting.

Lando glanced over. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though the answer was somewhere closer to no.

“Why were you walking?” he asked.

You stared out the window. “My ride bailed on me.”

He didn’t reply right away. Just gripped the wheel a little tighter.

Then, quieter: “Right.”

You could feel the temperature drop half a degree in the silence that followed.

He turned onto a quieter road, headlights sweeping over puddles, rain tapping steadily on the roof.

Then he cleared his throat. “Padel really roughed us all up today.”

You blinked. “Aren’t you professional athletes?”

“Oh, yeah. You’d think we’re all coordinated and elite and whatever,” he waved vaguely with one hand, “but I’ve never seen grown men lose their dignity faster than when we play anything outside of racing.”

You laughed softly. “You’re telling me Charles Leclerc isn’t good at everything?”

“God, no,” Lando said, perking up. “Charles is awful at most sports. He insists though he could’ve been a pro footballer. Brings it up every time he can.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Lando grinned. “He once missed three serves in a row at padel, slammed the racket down, and said, ‘It’s because my reflexes are trained for football.’”

You snorted. “He did not.”

“And then there’s George,” Lando said. “Who, by the way, calls padel ‘cheap tennis for the common folks’ but still never declines an invitation.”

You laughed. “I assume this is the same George that helps you tie your bows?”

“Absolutely.” Lando continued, “And then there is Alex who has the coordination of a baby giraffe. He runs like he’s buffering.”

You were laughing now, fully, warmth curling in your chest.

“So what about you?” you asked, glancing sideways. “How much do you suck?”

“I’d like to think I’m one of the better ones in the group,” he said confidently.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s definitely not true.”

“I’m amazing at everything, especially other sports.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a god at golf,” he added, eyes twinkling. “Elite. Practically unbeatable. Some say Tiger Woods retired just to avoid me.”

“Some say?”

“Me. Just me. But I say it with conviction.”

You grinned, resting your head against the seat, the storm outside softening under the steady purr of the engine.

“You’re good at this,” you said after a pause.

“At what?”

“Distractions.”

He smiled, but didn’t answer.

A few minutes passed like that—quiet, easy, the kind of silence that felt earned. The kind you didn’t want to break.

Then Lando turned off the main road.

You lifted your head. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, flashing you a quick glance. “Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapping you. Yet.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Two turns later, he parked in front of a small café tucked between shuttered boutiques. Soft orange light glowed from the windows. The sign above the door read Clémentine in fading script.

“I need hot chocolate,” he said. “And you, tragically, look like you do too.”

You laughed. “This your secret spot?”

He grinned. “Sort of. George’s girlfriend loves this place. Alex’s girl says it feels like a Wes Anderson film. Charles’s thinks they do the best croissants in Europe—which is wrong, but she’s charming so we let it slide.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ah. So this is… an exclusive tier”

He gave a small, lopsided grin. “Yeah. You’d fit right in.”

You blinked, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

He looked over the roof of the car and winked. “Let’s go, Strawberry.”

…

Inside, the café was quiet and warm, the kind of place that smells like something’s always in the oven. The barista gave Lando a knowing nod.

“Deux chocolats chauds, extra cream, and an extra cookie, please,” he said as you slid into a corner table.

Your dress was still damp at the edges, and your heels had started to pinch, but the chair was soft and the lighting was kind.

You watched him as he pulled off his hoodie—without a word—he held it out to you across the table.

“You’re shivering,” he said simply.

You hesitated, then slipped it on. It was warm, oversized, and smelled faintly like him—cologne, laundry detergent, and something like orange peel. It pooled around your wrists like it belonged there.

He dropped into the seat across from you, in a plain white t-shirt slightly creased and still damp at the collar. He looked maddeningly effortless.

When the drinks arrived, he handed yours over carefully, fingers brushing yours as he passed the mug.

“I think you forget how extraordinary you are sometimes,” he said.

No grin. No teasing glint in his eye. Just sincerity, like it had been sitting quietly on his tongue for a while, waiting for the right moment.

You looked at him.

And for a heartbeat too long, the world went still.

Then, gently, you lowered your gaze, your hands tightening around the warmth of the mug. You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

Something softened in your chest. Something that hadn’t for weeks.

…

The invitation had come via text, in true Lando fashion.

Hiya there’s this art auction Friday. Charles’s girlfriend’s hosting. Could be fun. Come with? Low pressure, high snacks.

You hadn’t even known Lando liked art, let alone attended charity auctions hosted by the Monaco elite, but the message made you smile. You’d read it twice. Maybe three times.

He followed up, minutes later:

Bring your boyfriend, if he won’t spontaneously combust in a room without talking about stocks.

That was how you ended up on the guest list for a night you weren’t supposed to remember as the one where everything finally snapped.

You didn’t know Alexandra—not really. You’d seen her tagged in posts with Charles, always in Dior or vintage Alaïa, always looking like she’d been drawn rather than born. But the invite felt personal in a way you couldn’t explain. Like Lando had meant for you to have something nice.

You showed up with your boyfriend.

He was already half-distracted before you arrived, scrolling his phone as the car pulled up outside the villa, barely glancing at the curated sculpture garden or the warm lighting glowing out from the glass facade.

“Art shows, what a waste of time and money,” he said, adjusting his watch, not even pretending to be excited about going with you. “Hope I can do some decent networking, make something of my night at least.”

As expected, he made a beeline for the restroom the moment you stepped inside. You hated how much relief washed over you—but deep down, you just didn’t want his sulking to cloud your first impression.

But then—you spotted Lando.

He was standing near the champagne tower, wearing a charcoal jacket with the sleeves half-rolled and a grin like he’d been waiting for you.

He caught your eye and made a show of pretending to squint. “Strawberry?” he said dramatically as you approached. “Wow. Look at you, pretending not to know me in front of the important people.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was hoping you’d stay over there a little longer.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded solemnly. “But then I wouldn’t get to tell you how unreasonably hot you look.”

You gave him a dry smile. “You’re terrible at compliments.”

“And yet, somehow, you keep showing up.”

Just then, a lilting voice cut in—velvety, amused.

“Is this the infamous Strawberry?”

You turned.

She was every bit the Monaco fantasy: Alexandra, in vintage Saint Laurent, hair pinned like a Vogue spread, a glass of champagne in one hand and the quiet confidence of someone who knew every art dealer in the room—and their secrets. And yet, the way she looked at you felt nothing but warm.

“I’ve heard things,” she said, leaning in for a kiss on each cheek. “Mostly from this one, who dramatically insists he doesn’t talk about you, and then does. A lot.”

You laughed, surprised. “Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Lando raised his eyebrows in mock betrayal. “Unbelievable slander in my own presence.”

Alexandra gave you an approving once-over, eyes twinkling. “You look incredible, by the way. Please tell me you’re staying for the cocktails after. We have a pianist who’ll play Taylor Swift if you bribe him with compliments or €20.”

“That might be the most compelling reason I’ve ever been given to stay at a party,” you said, grinning.

Alexandra gave you a grin from ear to ear, amused. “I’m really so happy to finally meet you! I can already tell we are going to be great friends! You should meet my dog.”

You smiled. “Oh my god! I would love to!”

“Already regretting introducing you two,” Lando said. “Feels like I’m third wheeling.”

“That’s your own fault, Norris,” Alexandra said, sipping her champagne. “You have been hyping her up for weeks, of course I’m excited.”

You looked at him. “Oh really?”

Lando didn’t even blink. “All good things. Mostly.”

Alexandra raised her eyebrows at you. “He actually tried to be subtle about it. It was cute.”

You bit back a smile. “I can imagine.”

“I’ll come find you later,” Alexandra added, brushing your arm. “Got to make sure Charles hasn’t lost Leo yet. So nice to meet you, lovely!”

She slipped off into the crowd with the grace of someone born to host art auctions and mild chaos.

“She’s my new favourite person,” you said.

“I’m going to pretend that doesn’t hurt,” Lando said. “But only because you look stupidly good tonight.”

He sipped his champagne, eyes back on the crowd like he hadn’t just said something that made your pulse tick strangely in your wrist.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t think of anything clever fast enough.

But the flush in your cheeks said enough.

You gave him a side glance.

…

Laughter drifted lightly through the space, more polite than genuine, the kind of sound bred in auction houses and villas with good acoustics. You let yourself drift for a while, away from the main crush of guests and the low buzz of clinking flutes and unsolicited business pitches.

Lando had disappeared into a conversation across the room—arms folded, half-listening, already looking for an escape route. You wandered along the perimeter, letting your eyes pass over sculpture and canvas, nothing really sticking—until something did.

A Monet.

Not loud. Not the centrepiece of the evening. Just tucked off to the side, quietly luminous. The colour was soft, the light dreamlike, and it hit you all at once—how rare it was to stand still in front of something that didn’t need to impress anyone to be worth something.

You didn’t smile, but you didn’t move either.

And then, out of nowhere, a voice landed at your side.

“You’re not seriously getting emotional over that, are you?”

You blinked once.

Your boyfriend had materialised beside you, the corner of his mouth turned up in that smug, half-bored way he always wore at events that weren’t about him.

“It’s just some smudged garden scene,” he added, barely sparing it a glance. “Looks like the guy couldn’t be bothered to finish it.”

You said nothing.

He chuckled, nudging your elbow like he was letting you in on a joke. “Honestly, my niece brought home something just like this last week—finger paints, but same idea.”

You turned toward him.

And for once, your voice didn’t waiver. “Do you ever get tired?”

He raised a brow. “Of what?”

“Of being so obnoxious.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “I was joking—”

“I know you were not. You just have to be an asshole all the time,” you said, stepping back. “I’m so done with this.”

You handed him your untouched champagne without looking at him again.

And then you walked.

Not fast. Not dramatic. Just… forward. Certain.

Across the room, Lando caught sight of you. He paused mid-sentence, head tilting ever so slightly, eyes following the clean line of your exit. He didn’t know what had happened. But he knew enough.

And he didn’t see the man behind you calling your name, confusion creeping into frustration, his voice rising in your wake.

…

The days following the gala blurred into a haze of solitude. You hadn't anticipated the weight of ending a relationship that had, for too long, been a source of discomfort rather than joy. Even though it felt like a relief to be free, the fresh perspective you had now gained made looking back on the relationship seemingly harder, being disappointed in yourself for sticking around so long.The walls of your apartment seemed to close in, each corner echoing with memories you'd rather forget.

Then, an unexpected message illuminated your phone screen. It was from Alexandra.

Hii! I know we've only met once, Charles is hosting a yacht party this weekend. I'd love for you to come. It'll be fun, and I think you could use a night out. What do you say?

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Alexandra's warmth was palpable, even through text. The idea of attending a lavish yacht party was daunting, especially solo, but the prospect of genuine company was tempting. Before you could overthink it, you quickly responded you’d be there.

…

The evening of the party arrived with a golden sunset casting its glow over Monaco's harbor. As you approached the yacht, its grandeur was undeniable. Laughter and the clinking of glasses floated through the air, mingling with the soft strains of music. Taking a deep breath, you stepped aboard, the gentle sway beneath your feet reminding you of the fluidity of the moment.

You hadn’t arrived with a dramatic entrance, but you may as well have. There was something in the way you carried yourself—unhurried, unbothered, glowing without trying—that turned heads. The white sundress moved like water around your legs. Your hair was soft, undone. You looked like summer had chosen you personally.

"Hey! You made it!" Alexandra's voice rang out, genuine delight evident as she approached, her embrace warm and reassuring.

She beamed the moment she saw you. “You look like revenge dressed in satin. Come ruin someone's night—in a good way.”

"Thank you! I’m so excited!" you replied, grateful for her presence.

She linked her arm with yours, guiding you through the throng. "Come on, let's get you a drink and introduce you to some people."

So you mingled.

You laughed. You listened. You accepted compliments with a smile that didn’t flicker with doubt this time. The isolation of the past few days had left you sharper, oddly steadier. You hadn’t expected to feel so… grounded. You were alone, technically. But not lonely.

And then—across the deck—you felt it.

Someone watching.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

But you did anyway.

Lando stood near the upper rail, half-leaning into conversation with Charles and George, drink in hand, curls damp like he’d only recently dried off. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be suggestive without meaning to be, and he was laughing at something George was saying—until he saw you.

Then he stopped laughing.

His eyes softened. Lit up. Like you’d just stepped out of a dream he wasn’t finished having.

He didn't move immediately. Just watched. And when you finally gave him a smile—small, knowing—he excused himself, barely disguising it.

You turned back to your conversation, heart thudding quietly.

When he reached you, it was casual. Or it would’ve been, if not for the very specific way he looked at you. As if seeing you tonight had knocked the wind out of him slightly.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, voice easy, but with that familiar edge of amusement.

You tilted your head. “Trying my best. Alexandra told me to come ruin someone’s night tonight.”

Lando’s gaze swept over you, amused. “I’ve got a pretty good candidate.”

You met his look head-on. “You volunteering?”

“I’m begging.”

You took a step closer, just enough. “Careful. I take those kinds of requests seriously.”

His voice dipped. “I was hoping you would.”

You laughed.

He smiled, pleased.

“I was wondering if you’d come,” he said, a little quieter now. “I didn’t want to push.”

“I needed a few days,” you replied honestly. “To unpick a few things.”

Lando nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something more, something gentler, but didn’t want to risk it here.

“Want to see the good part of the boat?” he offered instead, gesturing subtly toward the back. “It’s less busy, better view of the sea.”

“Are you offering a tour or an escape plan?”

“Both,” he said. “But this is not my boat so don’t blame me if we get lost mid-tour.”

You smiled, setting your glass down. “Alright. Lead the way.”

He offered his hand this time. Not his arm. His hand. Like it was only natural you’d take it.

And you did.

…

The further you got from the music and noise, the more the sea became the soundtrack. The laughter and clinking glasses behind you faded into something muted and unimportant. Lando walked beside you—not rushing, not talking. His thumb brushed against yours every few steps, like a quiet question he didn’t need answered yet.

At the stern, it opened up—a wide, quiet deck, low to the water, with just enough light to see but not enough to distract from the stars. The sea lapped gently around the hull. It smelled like salt and sun.

You leaned against the railing, feeling the breeze touch your skin. Lando stood beside you, but not too close.

“Nice out here,” you murmured, looking up.

He glanced over at you. “You suit starlight. That’s unfair.”

You gave him a look. “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Absolutely,” he said, eyes warm. “I’ve been holding back for weeks.”

You laughed, quiet and real. He grinned, pleased.

But then, after a second, he sobered. His gaze drifted down, toward the water, and when he spoke again, his voice had shifted.

“You look happy,” Lando said lightly, almost teasing. “I almost didn’t recognise you without the polite ‘I’m-fine’ smile.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Wow. Go ahead and expose me.”

“I’m serious,” he said, this time softer. “It’s good to see you like this.”

You glanced at him, and for a moment, he didn’t try to dodge the feeling in the air. He looked out at the sea and back again.

“I hated seeing you pretend,” he said finally. “These past few months… at the garage, the brunch, the auction—you were always there, but it felt like part of you was somewhere else. You still smiled, still made jokes, still looked beautiful, but…”

He trailed off. Not because he didn’t know what to say. Just because he meant all of it.

You didn’t speak right away.

“You wanted to throw him in the harbour, didn’t you.”

A beat.

“Every single time,” Lando said, with no apology.

That made you laugh again, but quieter this time. Almost sad.

You looked down at the rail, fingers brushing the edge. “I wasn’t really fooling anyone, was I.”

“You fooled plenty,” he said. “Just not me.”

You looked away for a beat. Then quietly, “I haven’t been unhappy around you, though.”

Lando froze.

When you turned your head back, he was watching you like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

“Say that again,” he said, almost joking. Almost.

You smiled, small and real. “You’ve been the exception, Lando. You’ve always felt like... a relief. Like I could let out a breath I never knew I was holding.”

His expression cracked open at the edges—something flickering across it, equal parts surprise and affection.

“I’ve been trying not to say something,” he said eventually, his voice lower now. “But it’s getting... impossible.”

You arched a brow. “To me or to you?”

He looked at you deeply, green eyes soft but with a sparkle. “Me. Definitely me.”

There was a beat of silence, hanging between you like a held breath.

“You just keep making it harder,” he added, almost laughing at himself. “Showing up looking like this. Laughing at my stupid jokes.”

You stared at him. He raised his hands, just slightly.

“I know I joke around a lot,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s easy to hide behind that. But I’m not playing with this. I’m not here to push or expect anything you’re not ready for.” He paused, letting the words settle. “I just… I need you to know. I’ve been falling for you since the gala.”

The words didn’t feel rehearsed or dramatic—just honest. And they landed like something you’d been waiting to hear without realising.

You stayed still, listening.

“Since the dress,” he went on, his smile tugging softly at the corner of his mouth. “Since the strawberry drink. Since you made fun of my bow tie.”

You laughed—quiet and barely there. But it was real.

“Since you made me want to stick around,” he added, “even when you were barely looking at me.”

His eyes met yours fully now. “You’re magnetic,” he said, simple as anything. “Warm. Sharp. And really hot even when you look like a drenched puppy.” He exhaled lightly. “And I just… I didn’t want summer to end without you knowing.”

You stepped closer.

Close enough to feel the change in the air, the shift in his breathing.

You placed your hand on his chest, light but certain.

“Lando.”

He didn’t move.

“If I kiss you, is it going to be a problem?”

His answer was immediate, and sure. “No.”

Then, softer. “But only if you want to.”

You looked at him for a long, quiet second.

“I do.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding it since May. Maybe longer.

And then you kissed him.

Slow, at first. Curious. The kind of kiss that asks before it takes. His hand hovered near your waist, the other brushing your jaw with the gentlest touch—as if he still couldn’t believe he was allowed.

But the second your fingers curled into his shirt and your lips parted slightly, that control cracked.

His arm wrapped fully around you then, the kiss deepening with a sudden warmth that made your stomach twist. He kissed you like he’d wanted to for weeks. Like he'd held every grin, every brush of your arm, every stolen look in his chest—and finally let them out all at once.

You felt it in the way his hand slid up your back, in the way his mouth moved with yours like he already knew the rhythm.

When you finally pulled apart, your breath hitched.

His forehead leaned against yours. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then you smiled, just a little. “So… did I ruin your night after all?”

Lando let out a low, breathless laugh. “You can ruin my life, for all I care.”

He leaned in again, this time without hesitation.

And then he kissed you—like he had nothing left to hold back. Like the wait had been worth it. Like it had always been leading to this.

…

It was the kind of Sunday that felt like a soft breeze. The kind where you woke up to Lando already beside you, hair a mess, voice rough with sleep as he offered to make pancakes—and then promptly convinced you to go out for groceries instead. A domestic detour. A small adventure disguised as an errand. Like you had so many of these past weeks with him.

You hadn’t argued. Not really.

Now, somewhere between the mangoes and the melons in your favourite Carrefour, you were watching Lando shake a pineapple like it had personally offended him.

“That’s not how you check if it’s ripe,” you said, barely holding in a laugh.

He looked genuinely betrayed. “It’s not? Then why did that woman on YouTube tell me to do it?”

“You watched a pineapple tutorial?”

“Research is key,” he said, placing it carefully into the cart. “Anyway, I came prepared.”

“You’re such a dork.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “You pick the snacks, I’ll handle dinner?”

He winked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then promptly wandered off to the crisps aisle like a man on a mission.

You lingered in the herb section, still debating parsley versus basil, when a voice behind you slid into your spine like cold water.

“Well. You look good.”

You turned.

He looked the same—your ex. A little too polished, sunglasses indoors, holding a bottle of overpriced green juice that screamed aesthetic punishment.

“Thanks,” you said simply. “I’ve been feeling better.”

It wasn’t petty. Just honest.

He blinked, clearly not expecting honesty.

You were just about to step away when—

“Oh, no. No no no,” Lando groaned from the next aisle, appearing with a look of theatrical dismay. “There’s a full seafood crime scene back there. Half the ocean’s laid out. I’ve never seen so much salmon.”

He stopped short when he saw you. And him.

His entire posture shifted.

He stepped up beside you, one hand sliding effortlessly around your waist, grounding and easy. He didn’t force it. Just filled the space.

“Hi,” Lando said, his tone calm, eyes flicking to the man in front of you. “I’m Lando.”

Your ex gave a tight nod, straightening slightly. “We’ve met.”

Lando’s gaze dipped to the man’s basket—almond milk, snack bars, and two tubs of something suspiciously protein-packed and aggressively vanilla.

“Solid haul,” Lando said, casual. Then, after the smallest pause, “Though I’d go easy on the sugar. Causes hair loss, you know. Wouldn’t want to risk it, considering your current situation.”

He didn’t smile. Just winked. Cheeky enough to pass for humour. Sharp enough to land exactly where it needed to.

Your ex blinked again. Offered no reply. Just turned back toward the juice aisle with the grace of someone trying not to trip over his own ego.

“Lovely to see you,” Lando called politely, already nudging the cart forward—his hand still warm around your waist.

You let him guide you down the aisle, heart flickering with quiet satisfaction.

“Hair loss?” you asked, giggling, once you were out of earshot.

He shrugged, eyes forward, lips twitching. “What? It was observational science.”

“You’re awful.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your temple. “But I’m yours.”

You laughed, soft and real, tucking into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris fic

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sheeezu · 6 months ago

Text

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

#shifting community #reality shifting #shifting motivation #shifting blog #shifting antis dni #shifting #shiftblr #shifters #permashifting #respawning #shifting methods #shifting stories #shifting success

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dystopyx-blog · 9 months ago

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Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

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flopsxii · 5 months ago

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tokyo revengers boys with their crush (aka you!) <3

feat. sano ‘mikey’ manjiro, ryuguji ‘draken’ ken, hanagaki takemichi, baji keisuke, matsuno chifuyu, hanemiya kazutora, mitsuya takashi, inui seishu && kokonoi hajime

notes: first time writing for so many characters and some for the first time :0 i hope it isn’t ass!!! sorry if some characters i haven’t written for before are ooc and inaccurate! ALSO I HATE SQUID GAME BUT TRANS BADDIE.

— i will release a part two soon :)

sano ‘mikey’ manjiro

ꪆৎ i think mikey would be somewhat upfront with you about his crush. of course, he wouldn’t outright confess until he knew you shared the same sentiment. however, he’d make it fairly obvious that he thought highly of you and how he loves spending time with you over anyone else.

ꪆৎ he’d definitely ‘kidnap’ you from classes, begging you to leave because it’s an “emergency”, but really he just wanted to spend time with you. you’d scold him after, reminding him about the importance of school, but he’d just stand there with a love struck smile on his face. it didn’t matter wether you were lecturing him or ignoring him, being in your presence was enough to bring him happiness.

ꪆৎ his crush is blankly obvious to all of toman and probably other gangs in the near vicinity. no one dared to talk to you in a negative way, a bonus of having mike’s affections. and suddenly, if anyone was mean to you, it didn’t happen anymore… sometimes you wondered why but mikey would shush you immediately. “maybe they just realised that bringing down such an amazing person was a reflection of themselves, y/n-chan!”

ꪆৎ would love it when you accompany him on foodie ‘dates’, rides on his motorbike and even accompanying him to toman’s meetings. it genuinely shocked everyone when mikey would interrupt himself to stick his tongue out at you just to make you giggle. truly toman’s royalty!

ꪆৎ also would most likely pitch up at your house at random points of the day. even as ‘friends’, he’d want to nap together and just hang out alone where he wouldn’t have to maintain his reputation as the ‘invincible mikey’. with you, he could just be manjiro.

ꪆৎ in terms of confession, i think mikey would let it slip out when he’s most vulnerable. either when he’s super sleepy or just generally having a rough time. small whispers of how much he appreciates you and likes you would fall from his lips. once he realised what he had done, it was most likely too late to take it back. he just hoped you shared the same feelings.

ryuguji ‘draken’ ken

ꪆৎ unlike his best friend and captain, draken would keep his feelings to himself and it probably would stay that way for a while. it’s not because he doesn’t wanna be with you, in fact, it’s the opposite! he’d most likely think that a relationship with him would come hand in hand with people jeopardising your safety. so more likely than most, he’d stick to being your friend (a very close friend) until he knew you’d be safe.

ꪆৎ probably would trail behind you whilst you’d go shopping, a unreadable expression on his face but instead, his mind was overwhelmed by the thought of you! how adorable you looked as you pointed out cute things, making a mental note of items to buy you for your birthday.

ꪆৎ definitely would be the first one at your door if you came down with any sickness. even if it was a common cold! he’d remind you that sickness could get worse if left untreated and you should ‘stop denying him and just accept his help.’

ꪆৎ he’s immensely protective over you, even if he doesn’t necessarily need to be. other toman members would try and remind draken that he doesn’t need to be worried over your safety, after all the whole of toman would take care of you!

ꪆৎ i also feel like draken would be the type to pick you up and drop you off before and after school. even if the walk was 10 minutes and under, he’d remind you it could be dangerous alone! it’s purely just an excuse to spend more time with you even if he does act like it’s a chore.

ꪆৎ would probably confess to you if there’s imminent danger towards you or it would slip out without him realising. he’d definitely have to take a couple moments to compose himself if it was the latter, a furious blush erupting over his cheeks causing you to giggle.

hanagaki takemichi

ꪆৎ he’s so so shy around you! however, no matter how much he makes a fool of himself in front of you, he just can’t stay away. it’s like he’s in a constant state of fluster whenever he’s in your presence.

ꪆৎ definitely walks you to and from school, holding your hand if you initiate it first. he would probably also try carry your school books for you, even if you remind him that your arms work just fine. he just wants to help you in anyway he can!

ꪆৎ would also 100% feel awful when he sees the sad expression on your face whenever he turns up with new bruises and cuts covering his face. his heart would break when you graze your fingers over the wounds, asking a meek “do they hurt, michi-kun?”

ꪆৎ also the type to try show off to you whenever he can but fail miserably. although, if he sees that amazing smile, the humiliation he feels is always worth it! even if he ends up hurting himself, he won’t mind if you make sure he’s okay after. maybe a hug wouldn’t hurt also…

ꪆৎ speaking of hugs, he’d probably malfunction the first time that your arms wrap around him. even if you were doing it out of worry for his wellbeing, he cherishes the moment for the rest of his life.

ꪆৎ he doesn’t confess… it’s actually you who tells him how you feel. it’s a heartfelt conversation you two share after you see the boy beaten to a bloody pulp so that his friends would be alright. his loyalty and tenacity being one of the few reasons why you adore him so much!

baji keisuke

ꪆৎ honestly, he’s the definition of whipped. even chifuyu is surprised when he sees how baji acts in your presence. it’s so impossibly clear how much baji likes you to anyone else in the room, except you!

ꪆৎ he’d probably start fancying you if you helped with his studies and actually persevered with him despite how difficult he tried to make it. initially, he’d deny your help, grumpily saying he can handle it and to leave him alone. however, when you sit across from him and start reading through your notes and helping him correct his wrong answers, he’s floored. any other person would’ve left after his shitty response but you stayed.

ꪆৎ would act like your best friend but to anyone else, they view you as baji’s partner (albeit unofficially). is fiercely protective over you and if anyone makes you upset (even a little bit) are met with baji’s anger and very soon after, his fists. of course, you lecture him for jumping into action without consulting you but the fact he cares so much makes your heart beat impossibly faster.

ꪆৎ would definitely invite you over to his house to hang out, just so he could have some time alone with you. even if it’s just you reading and him silently laying beside you, it’s almost heaven to baji. if it was heaven, you’d be spilling your undying love for him but he thinks he wouldn’t be so lucky.

ꪆৎ would also end up sometimes bringing you to toman meetings if he absolutely has no other choice. but you’d stick by his side the whole time and if he’s not available for some reason, chifuyu is there to stand in!

ꪆৎ much like takemichi, you’d have to confess to baji first or you’d be playing cat and mouse with him for the rest of eternity. even his mum knows how he feels but he’ll deny every accusation. however, she’s just happy her hot headed son has someone he cares about and she’s so happy it’s you!

matsuno chifuyu

ꪆৎ chifuyu is definitely the type to crush on his best friend! someone he shares such a deep bond with and trusts on an immensely deep level. i doubt he’d fancy someone he knows on a surface level, he doesn’t know them well enough. however, he knows you inside and out, it never feels awkward around you (despite the constant blush on his cheeks that he hides everytime).

ꪆৎ he’s definitely protective over you, along side baji who will take care of you if chifuyu isn’t around. if he sees anyone hassling you, he’s the first to jump in and defend your honour!

ꪆৎ he always invites you round to his house just to see you cuddle peke j. furthermore, he’ll take you to the zoo, aquariums or just pet shops to hang out since you both share the same sentiment towards animals. it’s one of the reasons he’s fallen so hard for you.

ꪆৎ his mum adores your ‘friendship’ with her son, she’s never seen him so happy (in a romantic way!). she will buy food specially for you to share and even sometimes drop devious hints in your ears about her sons feelings; you don’t take it seriously at first.

ꪆৎ he probably doesn’t initiate physical contact with you too much, it makes his brain overload. but, the option is there… he will without a doubt wrap you in a bear hug; savouring the feeling for as long as possible.

ꪆৎ chifuyu is definitely the type to try reenact scenes from his favourite mangas then make a complete fool of himself. however, he doesn’t know that you appreciate him trying nonetheless, no matter how silly he looks doing so.

ꪆৎ following his shoujo manga’s ideology, he’d confess in a subtle but heartfelt way. i think either using peke j as a messenger, a small note tucked into his little collar. or he’d tell you up front and be as sincere with his words as his silly brain would allow.

hanemiya kazutora

ꪆৎ it’s likely that no one knows that kazutora has a crush on anyone, most of all you. i think he wouldn’t interact with you that much in public, instead opting to spend time with you in private when he could truly be himself.

ꪆৎ the amount of times kazutora has to cover his raging blush on his cheeks each time you hang out is insane! he never knew that compliments he hears on the daily about his appearance could make his heart beat so fast, until they came out of your mouth.

ꪆৎ he definitely visits you if you have a job, sneaking in and surprising you with a huge smile on his face! he’s also the type to stay until your shift ends and make sure you get home safely, wether you ride on his motorcycle or not.

ꪆৎ he may also sometimes slip you unexpected gifts, only small ones though that have sentimental value. maybe it’s cinema tickets from the time you dragged him out after his release from juvie.

ꪆৎ he doesn’t want you involved with any gang activity so it’s quite unlikely that you find out he’s still involved with that stuff. however, he would tell you flat out if you heard any rumours about him and would reassure you that he’d keep you seperate.

ꪆৎ it’s unlikely he’d confess, liking things how they are, no matter how much he wishes your relationship could progress. either he’s worried you’d see him as a monster, due to things he did in the past and in the present or he just wouldn’t know how to say it so it’s better left unsaid anyways. it would have to be you to lay your feelings out for him to see and decide what to do next.

mitsuya takashi

ꪆৎ i think mitsuya would be one of the most upfront about his feelings on this list without saying it directly. toman can clearly see the sentiment he shares for you, even girls in his class and sewing club know that he’s essentially spoken for!

ꪆৎ he loves inviting you along to his days out with his sisters. not only because he loves spending time with you but also because the two girls adore you as much as he does! one of his favourite photographs is the four of you on one of your days out, a scarf he made wrapped around your neck.

ꪆৎ speaking of clothes he’s made; mitsuya definitely surprises you with new pieces every so often. even if you’d try refuse, telling him he should try sell them as they’re just that good, he’d remind you that he’d much rather see them on you and wants no payment in return (no matter how much you insist).

ꪆৎ gentleman mitsuya always gives you a ride no matter where you need to go! even if you mention in passing that you’re going shopping in the coming days, he will insist that he’s your ride! after all, he can’t stand by whilst you lug heavy bags home.

ꪆৎ once mitsuya is certain about your feelings reflecting his, he’d be direct with his words. “i have feelings for you, y/n-chan.” a simple statement that gets the biggest weight off his chest. he can only hope you accept his confession…

inui seishu

ꪆৎ you’re most likely a childhood friend to seishu, i find it unlikely he’d fancy a classmate or a passing stranger. perhaps, a childhood friends sibling? that way, he’s able to determine wether you actually like him for who he is.

ꪆৎ alongside kokonoi, he trusts you immensely. i highly doubt he’s able to form romantic feelings for anyone without the formation of trust. you’re his confident and he’s yours, and it has always been that way. at this point, seishu is unable to see himself confiding with anyone else the way he does with you.

ꪆৎ when he first started gaining feelings for you, i think he probably would give you the cold shoulder, not understanding how he feels. but, he’ll make things right with you once his minds less foggy!

ꪆৎ if you don’t exactly share the same interests, such as how he’s very interested in motorbikes and mechanics, he will try very hard to get into your hobbies so you can spend more time together. however, it means an immense amount to him that you’ll sit there and let him ramble about his favourite bike that shinichiro worked on, even if it was so long ago.

ꪆৎ he would probably confess when everything has settled down in his life. that includes his involvement with gang activity. he would hate to put someone so close to his heart in jeopardy. however, if you can’t wait, you could always confess yourself…

kokonoi hajime

ꪆৎ it would take him a long, long time to actually acknowledge his feelings for you. he would probably feel like moving on was a betrayal to akane but there came a point where he couldn’t ignore those feelings anymore.

ꪆৎ he would treat you amazingly, even if he’s battling with the thoughts inside his head about you and akane. he’d offer you money if you needed it (you will most likely hand it straight back), buy you gifts and happen to forget the receipt…

ꪆৎ even after several talks that you like spending time with him because of who he is and not what he can do for you, kokonoi still finds it hard to accept. he probably will see some resemblance to akane in that sense and would probably think she’d want him to be with someone like you.

ꪆৎ one of his favourite things about you is that even if he isn’t in a sociable mood, you will still sit with him and enjoy his company. not to mention he’s floored by how amazing you look everytime he sees you!

ꪆৎ he also loves going on day trips with you and seishu, finding every different place the three of you visit special.

ꪆৎ his confession would be sincere and precise. he would lay his feelings out and would promise to treat you amazingly and of course, take care of you in anyway you’d need.

#mikey x reader #draken x reader #takemichi x reader #baji keisuke x reader #chifuyu x reader #kazutora x reader #mitsuya x reader #inupi x reader #kokonoi x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader

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ihangelic · 4 months ago

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BND WHEN YOU KISS THEM MID-ARGUMENT

pair ; boynextdoor (legal line) x gn!reader genre ; fluff, barely-there angst warnings ; established relationship, silly arguments, couple shenanigans, petnames wc ; 2k (abt 400 words each)

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; mb by @/aeriinwonderland

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

𝒥aehyun. . .

it’s not like you and your soft hearted boyfriend were prone to arguments, but today was a mix of stressors for the both of you that made for a perfect storm.

a grumpy look from jae, a snippy comment by you, and the next thing either of you knew, you’d been arguing for the last few minutes. (like ten minutes tops, but that’s long for you two.)

when you see the telling sign of tears in your boyfriend’s eyes, you know it’s gone too far; even if you’re only lightly bickering about who was the one to leave the tub of ice cream out on the counter to melt. (🍡 — continued under cut)

your boyfriend is as tough as a stuffed puppy: all soft on the inside, made for love and snuggles. he’s not used to arguing with you and he absolutely hates it.

your heart fills with guilt, and that small fire burning in your chest, fueling the argument— it’s snuffed out without a seconds notice.

jaehyun doesn’t even notice you walking closer (probably thanks to his unshed tears blurring his vision) until you’re wrapping your arms around his middle.

acting on pure instincts and the overwhelming need to make your baby feel better, you press a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a long moment before pulling away with a small sound that has jaehyun’s stomach fluttering.

“wh— what…?”

he doesn’t even let himself come up with a complete thought or conclusion, his eyes instead dropping to your mouth before pulling you into another kiss.

and that second kiss turns into butterfly pecks all over his cheeks, which gets your myungie all giggly, making you laugh a little yourself— especially with how he returns the attack, peppering his lips all over your face and making you ticklish.

“i’m sorry, baby. i was being immature and i wasn’t even thinking about how i could be hurting you until i saw you tearing up.”

“s’okay,” he hardly manages to say between his ministrations. “i was being dumb too. n’ you made me all better now.”

jaehyun finally pulls away from your face enough for you to see the adorably happy smile on his lips, causing you to react in a similar fashion as you giggle and fondly shake your head.

“you’re such a sucker for kisses, aren’t you?”

(after that, receiving kisses by your boyfriend in the middle of an argument or whenever one starts brewing is a regular occurrence, and it works like a charm every time. <3)

𝒮ungho. . .

(surprised cat number one.)

you were having what could hardly even be called an argument with sungho in the middle of the kitchen after you just cleaned it.

your chores are split 50/50; so when sungho walked into the room and saw missed, messy areas untouched, he didn’t find it very fair.

his tone is honestly rather gentle, and he never will raise his voice at you— but as he picks up a ‘clean’ spoon to show you the spots still left on it, notices you didn’t rinse the sink out after washing the dishes, and sees that you didn’t spray down the counter— it just snow balls from there.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated when his face tenses and his soft lecture turns into mumbled rambles, more to himself than you.

you want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you were just kind of going on autopilot and not paying close enough attention to how well you were actually cleaning— but you’re unable to get a word in or for him to actually hear you over his own thoughts as he continues fussing over things in the kitchen.

then you’re struck with an idea, a lightbulb over your head; it definitely might be cheesy, but you have a feeling it will work.

before you can sike yourself out of doing it, you walk up to sungho and cup his face into your hands.

his eyes widen in surprise before you’ve even completed the main mission, and when you lean forward to kiss his lips, a soft gasp escapes them.

his hands move to hold your waist, even though he hasn’t been able to process what’s happening yet— all he knows is that you’re kissing him (and he really likes when you do that).

the kiss is sweet and lingering, sungho’s hands eventually moving to hug you against his chest as he comes back to his senses.

even when you finally pull away, his hold on you never falters.

“did you just use a drama tactic on me to make me shut up?” he asks, expression somewhat shocked as his brows are raised, yet he has an amused smile and fond eyes while he looks at you.

“yeah.” you admit smugly. “did it work?”

(spoiler alert: it definitely did.)

𝑅iwoo. . .

if you and your boyfriend are arguing, it’s most likely the two of you worrying about the other’s wellbeing and health.

for instance, if there’s a cold wind outside and you’re about to go out for a walk together, riwoo always picks up your coat from the hook to put it on you— but the problem is, you don’t always want to wear it.

“riwoo, it’s not even that cold. we’re gonna be walking around and then i’ll get too hot.”

“baby, you need to wear it!” 🥺

he speaks in pout, trying to convince you with his cute face and pleading eyes. “you know if you get too warm in it i’ll just carry it for you.”

your ‘arguing’ (which most onlooker would think is really cute and comparable to a married couple) would continue from there, until riwoo finally decides to try and wrangle you into his arms and put the coat on you.

you’re both giggling and struggling against each other— and if you’re being completely honest— you’re not really putting up much of a fight, on account that you secretly enjoy riwoo fussing over you.

finally he manages to hang the coat over your squirmy shoulders and wraps his arms around yours, putting you ‘in prison’ as he calls it, to keep you from just shrugging it off.

you give a bratty huff, and in an act of defiance and ‘revenge’, smack a kiss on riwoo’s unsuspecting lips.

it’s done before anything hardly had the chance to start, you quickly pulling away, pretending that you’re not super shy and kinda embarrassed at your own actions.

riwoo is also shocked, his cheeks pink and eyes wide as he stares at you.

but it only takes a few seconds for him to clue back in, lips curving into an adoring smile, because he utterly adores you.

“…why did you pull away so soon, baby?” he asks, and a moment later he’s pulling you even closer to press his lips to yours, the kiss lasting for a lot longer— and deeper.

you get so lost in his kiss that you don’t even think to protest how he pulls the coat up your arms and zips it up— until he pulls away with a sneaky laugh, pointing childishly at you as he teases.

(and despite you ‘losing’ the argument, you can’t find in yourself to care. he’s just too adorable.)

“i got you! now come on!” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile too, letting him take your hand and lead you out the door to begin your walk together.

𝒯aesan. . .

(surprised cat number two.)

taesan is a good boyfriend and doesn’t get mad super often, but there is little pet peeves he has; if you manage to do one of those things on the list, it’s hard for him to not get a little upset about it.

the thing is, you’d almost rather have him nagging at you for whatever you’ve done to offend him, but most times he doesn’t; rather, he’ll opt to give you the silent treatment or avoid you.

(and by ‘avoid’, i mean he’s gonna pout and mope around rooms he knows you’re residing in, never directly talking or interacting with you but clearly hoping you’ll look his way and pay attention— because he’s kinda just a huge baby; as much as he refuses to admit it, he likes being fussed over by you.)

“love, just tell me what’s wrong.” you ask, tone lightly whined. but (shocker!), he ignores you.

it keeps going like this, you begging for taesan to just tell you what’s wrong and him not answering, until finally he turns around to look you right in the eyes— and then the words flow like a dam bursting.

his tone isn’t mean, he’s just clearly bothered— and you try; you try really hard to take him seriously and listen to his complaint…

but he’s just so cute when he’s angry. 🤭 (like bfr. we’ve all seen that clip of taesan being ‘mad’ at leehan. he looked absolutely adorable and not scary at all, like a kitten that just got wet and is pouting about it.)

and as his rambling just keeps going, you hold on until you can’t resist anymore, grabbing him by the arms and planting a kiss on his lips.

and although he still has many things to say 😤☝🏼, he still returns this kiss, lips moving sweetly against yours when he realizes what’s happening.

when you pull away, you expect him to be smiling— but instead, he looks even more angry then before.

that’s when you start actually getting a little scared.

“wow. you’re really just gonna interrupt me when i’m talking like that?”

“i— i’m sorry, taesan. i was trying—“

before you can finish, he’s pulling you into his arms and kissing you with fever, confusing you even further.

but when you feel his lips smile against yours as he kisses you, you realize that he wasn’t ever actually mad all along. 🥹

𝐿eehan. . .

hannie is just sooo not the argumentative type, so that means it’s you who’s the problem! 🫵🏼 (jk, but also kinda fr.)

if there’s an argument it’s usually going to have to be started by you, simply because leehan is not very confrontational at all, and he’s rather easy to please and be at peace with.

he doesn’t really have any issues with you because he’ll bring it up before it becomes one. on top of that, it’s very rare for him to show frustration (and practically non-existent in the realm of possibilities when it comes to you) because it doesn’t really go along with his nature.

but with that said— he’s human, and he has bad days too.

you got upset with him over something and it turned into an argument; debatably a one sided one— or at least it seems like that when you’re the only one getting mad and hannie’s just sitting there quietly listening.

it’s not until you look over at him again and see his furrowed brows and soft eyes— which appear clearly upset by your strong, opposing opinion— that you finally realize you’re hurting his feelings.

and then your heart sinks, the argument completely worthless and stupid now as you stare at leehan’s shiny eyes, downtrodden with sadness. 🥺

and the way he’s just sitting there quietly makes you feel all the more awful.

so you hurry over to him and cup his cheeks to press a delicate kiss to his lips, desperately wanting to make him feel better and wipe that heartbroken look off his face immediately.

when you pull away from his lips, he gawks at you with a deer in headlights look, not saying anything at all.

it makes you feel a little awkward and unsure of if you did was the right thing, so you ask—

“um— did that…work?”

he pauses for a while longer before humming deeply. “i don’t know. maybe…try again?”

that makes your stomach flutter with hope, and you do as he says in an instant, giving a peck to his forehead.

“and..here?” he asks, boba eyes looking at you adorably while pointing to his left cheek.

then it’s his right cheek— then his nose— then his lips again, until finally you burst into giggles at the continuous loop.

“i’m sorry, baby. i was being a jerk. i’ll try to be more careful expressing myself next time.”

“it’s okay,” he smiles, all happy and calm and perfectly content as he gazes at you with the most loving eyes.

“but…” he hesitates, and you give him a look of encouragement to continue his sentence.

“does this mean you’re changing your mind about us having an underwater wedding?” 😃

“no, leehan! i’m not getting married to you in scuba gear!”

taglist ; @yuzuksi @aeminju (if you’d like to be added, removed, or change what type of content you’re tagged in, dm me! <3)

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flwrkid14 · 26 days ago

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Please please please give me tim drake who has always wanted a little brother. Give me tim drake who was so excited to have damian as a little brother. Give me Tim drake who was heartbroken that damian hated him. Give me Tim drake who gave up on his dreams of being the best older brother.

But also give me Tim drake who was so happy when duke came into the family and was happy to meet him. Give me Tim drake who has to experience the awe and admiration Duke has for him because HE is Duke's robin. Give me a Tim drake who FINALLY gets to be the older brother he always wanted to be.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME A TM DRAKE WHO TEACHES DUKE HOW TO BE A DRAKE, WHO TEACHES DUKE HOW TO ACT AT GALAS AND INTERACT WITH HIGH SOCIETY LIKE JANET TAUGHT HIM.

(No pressure, I love your work so much)

hi anon !! tysm for the ask and sorry it took me a minute to get to it, but I had so much fun writing this, and this was such a brilliant idea! <3

Tim always wanted a little brother.

Not to boss around or dump chores on—he just liked the idea of it. Someone to look after. Someone to share things with. To protect. He grew up alone in a house full of silence and secrets, and maybe he thought a little brother would make it all feel a little less cold.

So when Damian came into the picture, Tim was excited. Really, genuinely excited. Damian was younger. He was new. He was Tim’s chance to finally be the older brother he’d always wanted to be.

Except Damian… hated him.

From the start. Didn’t even hesitate. It was instant, razor-sharp disdain. Like Tim had done something unspeakable just by existing. Just—rage and rejection and contempt.

And Tim—he didn’t know what to do with that. He tried, at first. But everything he did just seemed to make things worse. So eventually, he stopped trying. He let the silence settle between them again, let the distance become a wall, and then a canyon.

And eventually, it just felt like—he’d never had a little brother at all.

Then Duke joined the family.

Younger than Tim. Bright. Smart. So much potential. And Tim didn’t let himself hope. Didn’t reach.

So he stayed polite. Friendly. Civil. He helped Duke when he asked, guided him when it was needed. But he kept that emotional distance. Just in case. Just in case Duke ended up hating him too.

Except… Duke didn’t.

Instead, Duke started standing by him at events. Letting Tim take the lead. Letting Tim show him the ropes of high society and backhanded condolences.

Tim noticed the way Duke mimicked his posture, his cadence, his etiquette. Like he trusted him.

And something in Tim—hope. It sparked again.

He started softening. Started doting. Just a little. Then more. Checking in. Saving him the good snacks. Making sure he wasn’t left behind in the chaos of everything.

And one day, Duke tells him— “You were my Robin. Not Dick. Not Jason. You. I always looked up to you.”

And that—Tim has to sit down. Because. No one’s ever said that to him. No one’s ever meant it like that. He’d never expected to hear it from anyone, let alone from Duke—the kid he hadn’t let himself hope for.

Duke likes when Tim teaches him how to be a Drake. When Tim smooths his collar and reminds him to arch one eyebrow when a socialite says something snide. Duke notices the difference, too. Damian learns how to be a Wayne. But he learns how to be a Drake.

And Duke thinks he might actually like being a Drake, even more than he would a Wayne, at least. There’s something gentle about it. Something warm.

Tim looks at Duke and thinks: maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Maybe this is what having a little brother feels like.

And it’s not perfect. It’s not how he pictured it when he was ten years old and lonely.

But it’s real.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#thanks for the ask <3 #tim drake #duke thomas #batfam #this is actually everything to me #I like the idea that Duke drifted towards Tim first because he's always trusted Tim #that's his Robin after all #I need more of Duke being a gremlin of a little brother and also Tim being a good older brother #they're one of my favorite duos

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glowettee · 2 months ago

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✧˖° romanticizing discipline: why your study aesthetic matters more than you think

post 1 post 2 post 3

heyyyy angels, mindy here!

okay, listen. we need to talk about something that people love to roll their eyes at. making studying aesthetic. every time someone posts a pretty study setup, there’s always someone in the comments like, “you don’t need pastel highlighters to get good grades 🙄” or “discipline is about hard work, not vibes.” and okay, sure. but also?

if your study routine feels like punishment, you’re gonna run from it.

the way something feels matters. if you walk into a cozy, candle-lit café with soft music playing, you’ll want to stay there for hours. if you sit down at a messy desk with harsh lighting and a chair that makes your back hurt, you’ll last 15 minutes max. same work, different environment, completely different experience.

so why wouldn’t you make your study sessions feel good?

the truth is, romanticizing discipline makes you want to be consistent. and when you crave the work instead of dreading it, that’s when everything shifts.

so let’s make studying feel like an experience instead of a chore.

✧˖° why aesthetics actually matter

people like to pretend that discipline should be cold, harsh, and mechanical, but your brain doesn’t work like that.

➼ your brain loves sensory rewards. if your study space looks, smells, and feels good, your brain will start associating it with pleasure instead of stress. ➼ habit-building depends on emotion. if studying is something you enjoy (even a little), you’ll do it more often. if it always feels miserable, you’ll avoid it. ➼ your environment shapes your identity. if your space and routine reflect the kind of person you want to be, you start stepping into that version of yourself.

this isn’t about making everything look cute just for the sake of it. it’s about creating a feeling that makes you want to show up.

✧˖° how to romanticize discipline (without making it a distraction)

because let’s be real... if you spend two hours making an aesthetic notion template and zero minutes actually studying, you played yourself. the key is to set up your space and then get to work.

✧˖° 1. make studying a full sensory experience

romanticizing discipline isn’t just about visuals. it’s about creating an atmosphere that makes you want to sit down and focus.

➼ sound: play a study playlist that makes you feel productive (lo-fi, classical, rain sounds. whatever works). keep it consistent so your brain recognizes it as a “focus” trigger. ➼ scent: light a candle, spray a room mist, or use an essential oil diffuser. scent is one of the strongest memory triggers, so pick one that makes you feel calm and focused. ➼ touch: make sure your chair is comfortable, your desk is clean, and your study tools feel good to use.

it’s about tricking your brain into thinking, this is a space where we focus.

✧˖° 2. design a study space that makes you want to sit down

your environment dictates your focus. a cluttered, uninspiring desk will make you feel restless. a cozy, minimal, well-lit space will make you want to stay.

➼ keep only the essentials. a clean, distraction-free setup makes it easier to focus. ➼ add a little inspiration. a vision board, a cute calendar, a motivational quote. just something that makes you feel like that girl when you sit down. ➼ lighting matters. natural light is best, but a warm desk lamp can make nighttime study sessions feel cozy instead of exhausting.

again, the goal is to create a space that makes your brain want to work.

✧˖° 3. make discipline feel like a lifestyle aesthetic

some people make discipline look miserable. but the people who actually stay consistent? they make it look effortless.

➼ romanticize the act of opening your books. make it feel cinematic. the soft scratch of your pen, the glow of your laptop, the warmth of your tea. make it feel like a movie (mean girls, gossip girls... etcc) ➼ dress like the best version of yourself. even if you’re studying at home, wear something that makes you feel put together. ➼ upgrade your study tools. if you like the way your planner, pens, and laptop setup look, you’ll actually want to use them.

this is about shifting your identity. when you see yourself as the kind of person who enjoys discipline, you become her.

✧˖° keeping the balance: romanticizing vs. actually doing the work

okay, but let’s not pretend like aesthetics alone are gonna get you an A. you still have to put in the work. the key is to use aesthetics to enhance your discipline, not replace it.

➼ set a “setup time” limit. you get 5-10 minutes to set up your space. after that? no more tweaking. just start. ➼ use a study timer. 50 minutes of deep work, 10-minute break. repeat. this keeps you from getting stuck in the “pretty but unproductive” trap. ➼ reward yourself after real progress. light a candle before studying, but don’t let yourself scroll Pinterest for an hour instead of doing the work.

discipline first, aesthetic second. not the other way around.

✧˖° final thoughts

romanticizing discipline isn’t about making things look good for the sake of it. it’s about shifting your entire mindset so studying feels good.

when you make your study space feel warm, inviting, and yours, you stop dreading it. and when you stop dreading it, you show up more often. and when you show up more often? you actually get sh*t done.

so go romanticize the process. set up your space. light the candle. play the playlist. and then? open your books and do the work. because that girl you’re envisioning? she’s already you. you just have to step into her.

do not fall into the trap of "aesthetics over work" because there will be NO reason for you to romanticize studying, if you don't actually study.

with love,

mindy

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cowboybeepboop · 4 days ago

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Rescued

"Um, I...I need to clean up."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2k

Summary: part two of my Bob smut 🥴

Warnings: unprotected sex, needy Bob, slight angst, idk

a/n: I’m obsessed with writing about him 😣 I need Lewis Pullman like a teenager needs their vape 😩 as always send any requests you might have my way! I’d love to get some more done 😛

Part one :

A couple days have passed since you and Bob shared your intimate moment together, and you’ve been avoiding him like hell. You knew that you shouldn’t have gone that far with him, he needed a friend and you felt like you took advantage of his loneliness.

Rubbing a hand over your tired eyes you stand in the kitchen, you haven’t been sleeping or eating much, avoiding the whole team is one of the most impossible tasks you’ve ever had. The clock reads 3:30 am, a small mess of dishes are left in the sink and the trash is overfilled.

“Fuck.” You run a hand through your messy hair, quietly beginning to do the dishes, a chore that’s been neglected recently.

Bob quietly creeps into the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes fixed on your form as you work on the dishes. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the heavy bags under your eyes, the way you avoid looking at him. It’s not hard for him to guess what’s going on.

He hesitates for a moment, watching you as you try to ignore him. He stands there for a few minutes, debating with himself, before finally deciding to say something. "You...you look tired."

“Oh, Bob.” You breathe out, part of you has been craving his company, craving the sound of his voice and then the other part of you feels immeasurable guilt for pushing the boundaries of your friendship. “How come you’re up so late tonight?” Pushing down your thoughts and feelings you try to pretend that nothing is wrong.

Bob can sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you're trying to act normal. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes fixed on you, searching for any signs of what's truly going on.

"I couldn't sleep." he murmurs softly, his gaze roaming over your exhausted form. "Just felt...restless."

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anyway I can help?” Keeping your eyes focused on the sink you don’t even notice Bob creeping toward you, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Bob stands right behind you now, close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his thin t-shirt, his hands still fiddling with the material. He stares down at your back, his voice soft yet slightly hoarse, "Well...there is one thing..."

The feeling of him so close sends a comforting tingle down your spine, his cologne, deodorant, shampoo, all of it is filling your senses and putting you at complete ease. “Yeah? What’s that Bob?”

Bob takes a step closer, his chest now pressed up against your back, his breath warm on your neck. He places one of his hands on your hip, lightly applying the barest amount of pressure to turn you towards him.

"I could use some...company," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

Bob can sense your hesitation, your guilt, and he's not having it. He steps even closer to you, his body practically pressed against yours now, his fingers gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"No," he murmurs roughly, his eyes locked onto yours, "Don't you push me away."

“What happened before, that was a mistake.” You know he’s better off pushed away from you, he needs friends, a *family*, not you, not this. “I should’ve never pushed those boundaries with you, it was a mistake,” You turn to face the dishes again, letting the warm water run over your hands.

His expression falters, a pang of pain shooting through his chest at your words. That's it? A mistake. Like that night was nothing, like he was some kind of fool to let his walls down around you.

Bob feels his mind wandering, thinking of all the negative things about himself, what things could make you act like this. He can’t think straight, he’s hurt, but more than anything he craves you. His arms find their way around your waist, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “Please Y/N, don’t do this to me…” he whispers.

You lean back into his embrace, head falling over his shoulder a small moan escaping from your lips at the feeling of his breath against your skin. “Oh Bob,” his hands slide up your shirt, wandering your skin, his touch needy and desperate.

He can't help himself, his body craving your touch, his hands roaming over your skin, like he's trying to memorize the feel of you. He trails kisses along the column of your neck, murmuring against your skin, "You...you don't regret it, do you? Being with me like that."

His hands cup your breasts, as he pushes your body forward, bending you over the counter. “No, not at all.. I don’t regret anything with-“ you lose track of your thoughts, the feeling of his erection pressed against you sending your mind reeling. “With you..” you murmur, soft pants and moans leaving your lips as his hands continue their wandering.

Bob's hands continue their trail over your body, his touch becoming more and more desperate with every passing moment, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Good, that's...that's good." he murmurs against your skin, his lips never leaving you as they press soft kisses along your neck.

His fingers fiddle with the button of your pants, slowly popping them open to reveal the fabric of your underwear, his mouth moving to your ear, your name a breathy whisper, "Please, tell me you still want me. That I'm...enough."

“God.. you’re so much more than enough,” you moan, hands moving to help remove your underwear. “You’re all I need,” your cunt aches for his touch, body shaking with every move he makes.

"Please…let me make you feel good. Let me keep you. Let me show you...what you do to me," Bob murmurs gently in your ear, his words sending another shiver down your back. "Please, don't push me away," he whispers, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "I'll...I'll show you."

As the fabric of your underwear slides down your legs, Bob's need for you overpowers his timidity. His hands, though gentle, are insistent as they explore the curves of your ass, gripping each cheek firmly. He leans in, his face buried in your hair as he whispers, "You're so beautiful."

His desperation manifests in the way his thumbs trace the line where your thigh meets your pelvis, his fingertips brushing against the wetness of your arousal. Despite his tentative touch, there's an urgency in his voice, a raw hunger that wasn't present before.

His breath hitches as he finally dips a digit into your folds, teasing and testing, as if seeking reassurance that you still crave him. The tender intimacy of the moment is palpable, his touch a silent plea for you to not deny him.

Bob's finger circles your clit with a gentle yet urgent stroking motion, his thumb pressing down firmly on the sensitive nub as he watches your reaction in the window over the sink. The sight of your face contorted in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted in a silent gasp, fuels his desire even more. He's desperate to erase any doubt between you, to prove that what happened wasn't just a fleeting moment of weakness.

His other hand snakes around to the front, his thumb brushing over your clit as two of his fingers slip inside your wet, eager pussy. You're so wet for him, and the feel of your tightness around his fingers is almost too much. He can't believe he ever doubted your feelings for him.

His strokes become more deliberate, his touch more confident, as he watches your body respond to his every move. The sound of your moans fills the quiet kitchen, mixing with the faint splashing of the faucet and the occasional clink of a dish. He feels your muscles tighten around his fingers, and he knows you're close.

His thumb presses harder, his fingers pumping faster, as he watches you climb closer to the edge. And when you finally do, your body arches back into him, your hand flying to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, he feels a sense of triumph and relief wash over him. For this moment, at least, you're his, and he's yours.

Bob's need for you is palpable as he guides you away from the sink, turning off the faucet with his elbow, not once breaking the connection between his body and yours. He lifts you onto the kitchen counter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steps between them. He's still fully dressed, but you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his shorts, his hands trembling with anticipation.

With a gentle but firm grip, he lifts your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, his eyes drinking in the sight of your bare breasts. He lowers his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive peak. You arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as he gives your other nipple the same treatment.

The sound of fabric ripping fills the room as he impatiently pulls down his shorts, revealing his thick, hard cock. He lines it up with your dripping wet pussy, and with one swift, needy thrust, he's inside you. His hips rock against yours in a rhythm that's both gentle and rough, the kind of desperate claiming that leaves no doubt about his feelings for you. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucks you, his breathing harsh and ragged in your ear.

Your body responds instantly to his touch, your pussy clenching around him, drawing him deeper. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, making it impossible to ignore the connection that's been building between you since that night. The kitchen counter digs into your back, but you don't care, the pain only heightening your pleasure as he fucks you harder, faster, his cock sliding in and out of you with an urgency that speaks of his need for you.

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice hoarse with desire, his breath hot and panting against your skin. His hand moves between your legs, his thumb finding your clit once again, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You're so close, your entire body tightening around him, your nails digging into his back as you hold on for dear life.

And when you finally cum, it's with a loud cry that echoes through the empty house, your pussy spasming around his cock, milking him until he follows you over the edge, his own orgasm shaking him to his core. He collapses against you, his body weight pressing you into the cold countertop, his cock still buried deep inside you as he gasps for air.

Bob's body shakes against yours, his breaths ragged and labored, both his hands resting on your hips. He's still nestled between your legs, his head resting on your shoulder, his lips pressed against your neck. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, he just stays there, his body completely enveloping yours.

Slowly, his body starts to relax, his breathing begins to even out. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there, a hint of fear that everything that just happened was just some fever dream. "Please don't pull away from me." he whispers softly,

“I won’t.. not anymore, I promise.” You cover his face with kisses, gentle and sweet.

Bob relaxes into your touch, savoring the feeling of your lips on his skin. His grip on your hips loosens as he straightens up, his body no longer pressing you into the countertop. He glances down, a hint of embarrassment on his face as he realizes he's still inside you, his cock slowly softening.

He blushes as he looks down at where your bodies are still connected, his voice a soft whisper, "Um, I...I need to clean up."

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catssluvr · 21 days ago

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wilderness nat love languages headcanons <3

quality time:

⭑.ᐟ Spending time with you is her favorite thing and that means staying awake at night after a long day, even with her eyes practically begging to be closed, just to be able to enjoy your presence for a little moment.

⭑.ᐟ Loves to swim in the lake with you. Goofing around and tackling you into the water for the whole time. Splashes water onto your face when you’re not paying attention, mumbling fake apologies as she hugs you in a tight embrace and giggles at your scowl.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you hunting with her even if you’re not that good at it, will lie to the others if she has to because who has to know you’re not good with a gun? She can just do it all herself while you walk pretty beside her.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you to the crashed plane or to a nice hidden place so you can both talk about whatever you want or even just sit in a comfortable silence.

words of affirmation:

⭑.ᐟ At first might struggle a bit to tell you of everything she thinks of but will quickly get used to the fact that she will only gain by giving you compliments and expressing the appreciation you deserve.

⭑.ᐟ Tells you she loves you every single day, mostly at more vulnerable times like when you’re both laying inside her hut before sleep or right after waking up. Will whisper it like a prayer into your ear as she kisses your temple gently.

⭑.ᐟ Is the best at reassuring you whenever you feel scared to do something or just at comforting you in general. Tells you about how brave she thinks you are and how you can do anything if you really want to.

⭑.ᐟ Compliments by Nat are given in the most gentle way, in a way you know she means every single word she’s saying.

⭑.ᐟ Will randomly throw compliments like she’s saying something else, telling you about how your hair looks pretty that day before continuing on with whatever task she’s doing.

⭑.ᐟ Whispers them in a more meaningful way when you’re having intimate moments, her eyes burning into your skin like a love flame. Like she’s desperate to just take you all in at once.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby.”

acts of service:

⭑.ᐟ Always tries to have your plate be a bit more filled when you’re particularly hungry, even if that means she will eat less. Sneaks berries into your pocket when nobody is watching, casting you a gentle smile as she does so.

⭑.ᐟ Makes sure you have the warmest furs and sleeps in the side of the bed that’s closest to the entrance of her hut, instinctively wanting to keep you protected.

⭑.ᐟ Silently fixes your hair out of your face or even braids it when she notices it’s bothering you in hotter days, all this without waiting to be asked and simply happy to be of any help to you.

⭑.ᐟ Always has your back, defending you when someone tries to start an argument with your or acuse you of anything. Might even take the blame just so that you don’t get punished for something stupid, mostly in the last months of being in the wilderness.

⭑.ᐟ Does your chores when you’re not feeling particularly well because of your period for example , filling up your bottle of water and bringing you food to the hut. Even warms up some water and presses a warm cloth to your stomach to help with the pain.

physical touch:

⭑.ᐟ Considers the touch something crucial in your relationship, saving it mostly for when you’re both alone and get to touch each other as much as you want.

⭑.ᐟ Cuddles up to you at night, hugging your waist with a sluggish arm and nuzzling into your neck, occasionally murmuring incoherent words into it. When you make fun of her bed hair in the morning she will bury her face in your chest and pout like a baby until you kiss it off.

⭑.ᐟ When you’re sitting by the fire she will have her shoulder pressed to yours, taking glances at you once in a while. Sometimes she feels brave enough to interlace her fingers with yours or even lay her head on your shoulder in a sleepy affectionate gesture.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you somewhere private after hunts so you can finally kiss without getting interrupted by any of the girls. Making out until it gets late and you absolutely have to get back or they will get worried.

⭑.ᐟ Her hands will explore you all when she’s kissing you, trying to memorize every single detail of you. Fingers tracing your skin softly as she litters kisses from your jaw to your neck.

⭑.ᐟ Adores playful touches like tickles or gentle bites, mostly if they don’t fail to make you laugh at her antics.

gift giving:

⭑.ᐟ There’s not many options of gifts out in the wilderness but Nat really tries to make an effort at finding meaningful things. Will bring you little pebbles that she found to be pretty on a walk or get one every time you two go out into the woods some time together just to keep the memory eternal.

⭑.ᐟ On spring brings you colorful flowers and sometimes even helps you braid them into your hair. Starts with just picking a random flower in the nature but quickly evolves into making you the prettiest bouquets that she asks one of the girls to help her with.

⭑.ᐟ Makes bandanas and air bands for you with clothes that she won’t be wearing. She even makes two if the fabric is big enough so that you both get to be matching each other.

⭑.ᐟ Gives you on of her rings so you get to keep a bit of her at all times, it’s basically your promise ring. Kisses it whenever you’re holding hands.

#natalie scatorccio x self insert #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #nat yellowjackets

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96wonulicious · 1 month ago

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mother of my child - c.sc

genre: fluff

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Seungcheol usually doesn't like being away from you for longer than 4-5 hours. But now that you're pregnant with his child, he absolutely despises even just thinking about leaving you alone. Every message and every call he gets while you're seperated makes his heart race, always immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusions ever, when in reality it's mostly just updates on how you're/the baby is feeling or some other random things.

Today is no different. Seungcheol had to fly out to Mexico to perform on the Tecate Pa'l Norte, which meant leaving you alone at home for at least 3 days. Like the amazing husband he is, he checked on you at least 3 times every hour. You couldn't lie and say it wasn't a bit annoying, having to reassure him every 5 minutes, but you knew that he was just worried about you and your little one.

You also couldn't lie about the fact that having him not home made simple everyday tasks a lot harder. Your bump was at the point where you couldn't even reach down to tie your shoes anymore, so how were you supposed to do all of the household chores alone? The first thought was to wait for Seungcheol to return and let him do it, but you knew that he'd be tired after this trip so you decided to spare him.

After a really exhausting day of doing the most basic things like unloading the dishwasher and doing the laundry, you ran yourself a warm bubble bath to help your body finally relax a bit. With the water engulfing your sore body, you almost immediately got lost in thoughts. Thinking about how amazing your husband is taking care of you, doesn't matter if you're pregnant or not. As long as you're with him you're safe and everything is perfect.

Bursting through the door, Seungcheol entered your shared apartment, calling out for you. Smelling the scent of your favourite bathing salt in the air, he knew where to find you. He made his way towards the bathroom, announcing him showing up so he wouldn't take you by suprise. "Love? I'm home!!" he said and opened the bathroom door, pulling you out of your little trance.

"You're back!!" you happily said and smiled at him. He kneeled down besides the tub and reached out to give you a kiss. "I missed you so much" he said and hugged you, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Cheollie I'm soaking wet stop it! You're getting water everywhere!!" you laughed. He pulled away, pouting right in your face until you gave in and let him hold you. "Listen, how 'bout you let me get out and put some clothes on and then we can cuddle as much as you want. Is that okay?" "That sounds good yeah, I'll wait for you in the living room" he said and gave you a quick kiss before he left.

You quickly dried yourself off and changed into some comfy pyjamas and made your way to the living room. There he was, your beloved husband sitting on the couch, some food placed on the table in front of it. "I brought some dinner" he smiled at you. You began eating and talking about his trip to Mexico. He told you all about the people, the festival, their own act and just how fantastic it was there in general. "Let me throw this away I'll be right back" he said and placed a kiss on your temple, before leaving to throw out the food wrappings.

When he plopped down on the couch again, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, trapping you in his hold. "You can't believe how much I missed youuuu" he said while placing soft kisses all over your face. "And you too baby" he said while placing one of his hands on your stomach, gently rubbing it. "You didn't do anything exhausting right??" he asked. You were debating whether you tell him or not.

"No I didn't.." you lied straight into his face. "Really? Then why is the whole apartment literally spotless clean? Or why was there no laundry when I entered the bathroom earlier?" he shot you a knowing look., making you feel a bit guilty. "Look I'm sorry. I just didn't want you having to deal with all of this right after coming back from this trip.." you said, avoiding his gaze.

"Baby, I'm not mad at you. I'm just incredibly worried about you and our baby. I couldn't let anything bad happen to one of you. I love you with everything I have and am, so please let me support you as much as you need. I want to help you, you're literally the reason I'm going to be a dad. You literally made my wish come true and I couldn't imagine my life with anyone but you by my side." he said while holding your hand, his other hand carefully grabbing your chin making you look at him.

"You're my wife and the reason for my being. I could never be mad at you and you know that. I love you so much my love" he said before giving you a sweet kiss, grinning like an idiot after pulling away. He looked at his watch and sighed. "As much as I'd love to keep talking with you, we have to rest. Let's get some sleep shall we?" he said. You just nodded and followed him into the bedroom.

You laid down on your side of the bed, waiting for him to get in bed too. When you felt his side dip down you turned around to lay face to face with him. "I missed falling asleep next to you" he said while brushing your hair out of your face. "What did you not miss about me?" you giggled, scooting closer until your head was resting against his chest. "Fair, but how could I not miss the love of my life??" he laughed before kissing the top of your head.

"Good night my wonderful wife." he smiled to himself.

"Good night, my wonderful husband."

#choi seungcheol #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #fluff #seventeen imagines #cute #say the name seventeen #fanfiction #scoups #seventeenleader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen seungcheol #scoups fanfic #domestic fluff #pregnancy #adorablehusbandseungcheol

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 11 months ago

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Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

#kakagai #kakashi hatake #maito gai #naruto #my art #team gai #tenzou yamato #angst

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heavenangelly · 11 months ago

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Knowing everything about the law but not being able to apply it/manifest

The lotus: The lotus flower symbolizes rising from a dark place into beauty and rebirth, as this is precisely how a lotus flower grows. The lotus symbolizes the human Spiritual potential of transformation to the True (Divine) Self. -Google

I’m sure some of the people in this community, myself included, have learnt everything there is to possibly know about the law. You may even have notes and screenshots. But regardless of this, you just cannot apply. You want to change but you stay the same.

Why is this?

1. You lack belief in yourself. You love reading the posts, getting the short burst of motivation, getting ready to apply and change self, and then deflate when you see the 3d. So you consume and consume to get that feeling again, only to fall into the same cycle. You don’t think you can do it and you place the 3d on the pedestal, thinking that it is more real than imagination. You put your desires above you, hopeless that you’ll ever get them.

2. You don’t feel the burning desire to change; to be different. Some people may be lukewarm about their desires. They want it but they don’t want it enough to do something about it. Personally, when I want something really bad, I’d do anything in my power to have it. I’m burning with passion to get it, and in this case it would be to accept it and stay in that state. You have to want to be different. You have to feel like you’re burning with need to get what you want. You have to really want it. And this will act like a final push. You’d be dedicated and passionate about it. And if you’re not like that, if you are lukewarm, reevaluate why you want that thing. Fall back in love with it and actually having it instead of seeing it above you and unattainable.

3. Do you actually want it? You may feel a little resistance or dread towards your “desire” because it’s not something you actually want. It may be something that society has made you think you want. Go deep within and ask yourself if that’s actually something you want. Spend some time with yourself and see if it resonates with you, If you burn with passion for it. It doesn’t matter if society says you need it, this is YOUR reality and you decide if you need it or not.

How do I get out of this cycle?

1. Create a formula for how you’re going to manifest your desires. Take a few screenshots of your absolute favourite posts (5 posts maximum) that will remind you of how the law works and possibly motivate you. Put those in a note along with your formula

2. Now that you have created that, GET OFF OF TUMBLR. Do NOT consume anymore content. You know this shit. If you really need to, reread your screenshots and formula.

3. Constantly go back to your screenshots and formula if you doubt. If you have any questions, try to answer them yourself. You do know the law after all.

4. Try to have an end goal in mind. Like a routine you do everyday regarding manifestation or a time frame that will help you stay disciplined and motivated (but DO NOT focus too much on these things, focus more on fulfilment.) Do methods or anything you want, as long as you feel FULFILMENT it doesn’t matter what you do.

5. Have FUN. Do not make the law a chore for you. It’s so fun if you do the things you love and actually want to manifest and are dedicated to getting what you want, regardless of everything.

Reminder: Failure doesn’t exist. You can only “fail” if you stop persisting.

I really hope this post helped some of you, and I hope you take this to heart. You don’t have to live a life of cycles anymore if you don’t want to. Remember, you always choose what state you’re in. You’re always choosing to be something, to continue being something, to manifest something. Become unstoppable and undefeatable. You deserve this. I believe in you, now believe in yourself.

Now become like the lotus flower.

#law of assumption #manifesting #edward art #loa #neville goddard #loa tumblr #loassumption #manifest #void state #heavenangelly #4d #3d #imagination #how to apply the law of assumption #knowing everything about the law but not being able to manifest

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wosospacegirl · 3 months ago

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And they were roommates - part 3

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate, Kyra, is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: kissing, lots of kissing and sexual tension hehe

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST

You can read part 1 here and part 4 here

Kyra’s legs felt like concrete and her brain was foggy as she watched Katie steal the ball from her—again. Kyra was tired and confused, and her exhaustion was reflected in her poor training today. She had lost possession of the ball to Katie at least 3 three times, and after the third time, Katie even stopped teasing her about it. The fact that Katie even felt sorry for her spoke volumes about how awful she was today.

When she failed to do well in the last drill, Renée had—gently—asked her to step that one out. Kyra hadn’t wanted to at first, but Renée hadn’t asked her to either, so she went to the bench and sat on the stiff surface, watching her teammates actually show why they were on the field, and she wasn’t.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Alessia said handing her a protein bar. Kyra did not even see her approaching, highlighting how absent-minded she was.

“No,” Kyra mumbled, taking the snack, and fiddling with it at first before taking a small bite. Strawberry and white chocolate flavour, Kyra’s favourite. Maybe she wouldn’t be so depressed today after all. “Did you get kicked out of the pitch too? Is this the ‘prodigy-child-who-can’t-seem-to-kick-a-ball’ corner?”

“Well—no.” Alessia laughed. “Renée asked me to come here and see, in her own words, ‘what the fuck happened to Cooney’, so here I am.”

“Oh, so you don’t really want to talk to me, I’m just another chore in your busy day,” Kyra joked, biting back her laugh as Alessia nudged her slightly with her shoulder.

“You’re being dramatic,” Alessia stated, accepting the half-eaten protein bar Kyra handed back to her.

Alessia finished the protein bar while she waited for Kyra to formulate whatever she was thinking. After a few moments, she finally spoke.

“I’m so confused. And when I’m confused, I get completely worn out from the among of neurons I’m using,” Kyra confessed suddenly. “I don’t like when things are… I don’t know. Blurry, maybe?”

Alessia listened carefully with narrowed eyes, chin resting on her hand. “But what are you confused about, what’s blurry?” Alessia questioned, not really understanding what the girl was talking about.

Kyra’s cheek flushed. “Y/n has been acting weird lately, I’m not sure why.”

“What do you mean weird? Last time I spoke to her she sounded fine, happier even,” Alessia tilted her head.

“Maybe weird isn’t the right word—” Kyra continued with her mumbling. “She’s acting different, not in a bad way, though.”

“In what way then?” Alessia asked, pressing further.

“She’s being very nice to me,” Kyra blurted out. “Not that she wasn’t before, of course she was always very kind, but now it’s…”

“Different?” Alessia completed easily, given Kyra’s difficult relationship with, well, words today. “She’s being nicer to you, and that’s making you feel confused?”

“Exactly!” Kyra said, throwing her hands up in the air.

Alessia laughed quietly. “All right, tell me about it, let’s dissect it,” Alessia said, fake-serious tone that made Kyra roll her eyes.

“I’m serious, Less!” Kyra groaned,

“I’m too! Go on, I’m all ears,” Alessia encouraged.

So, Kyra told her what had happened last night.

Y/n had begged Kyra to put a mattress in her living room. “It’ll be like when we used to have girl’s night!” Y/n had said cheerfully as she sat on the couch. Kyra didn’t match Y/n’s energy. It was late, and Y/n's mattress was surprisingly heavy.

“We could keep having girl’s night in your room,” Kyra complained, finally letting the mattress hit the floor. The Australian let out a sigh of relief as her hand went to her shoulder and pressed against the skin.

“Just so you know I am not carrying this upstairs again,” Kyra pointed at the mattress as if it were a sentient being responsible for its weight.

“Too heavy?” Y/n smiled, spreading her legs and motioning for Kyra to sit in between them on the floor.

Kyra obeyed, though not without some complaining. “Yeah, I don’t know what it’s made of. Aren’t mattresses supposed to be made of goose feathers or some shit?”

Y/n squeezed the spot on Kyra’s shoulder she was complaining about, her hands touching the rough texture of Kyra’s Matilda's hoodie.

“Wow, there, right there,” Kyra whispered as Y/n touched the spot more firmly.

“I think mattresses are supposed to have a fair amount of foam, spring, polyurethane—” Y/n explained.

“You’re just making up words,” Kyra muttered, leaning into Y/n’s touches.

“Unfortunately, they’re real words that make up real mattress materials,”

“How do you even know that?” Kyra turned, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at Y/n.

“I read it in an article in the newspaper,” Y/n mumbled, tapping Kyra’s head. “And turn around, I’m trying to give you a massage.”

“Newspaper? How old are you? 99?” Kyra whined as Y/n pressed her acromion. “Ouch, don’t be so rough!”

“Sorry! It would be easier if you weren’t wearing this bulky hoodie, I can’t even feel where I’m touching.” Y/n bickered. “Plus, the colours on it aren’t even that good.”

“Those are literally the national colours of my country!” Kyra argued, rolling her eyes as she watched the smug smile on Y/n’s face. “Ok, you’re messing with me,” Kyra concluded.

“Just a little, you’ve been too tense lately, and normally you’re very relaxed,” Y/n said. “I’m just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, maybe if the derby wasn’t so close I could feel happiness and, you know, live life, but we can’t have everything we wish for,” Kyra said in a fake sad voice.

Y/n’s hand fell from Kyra’s shoulder as Kyra pulled out the hoodie in a sweeping motion and threw it casually on the loveseat by the window. The other girl was wearing a black sports bra underneath the hoodie.

Y/n froze, hands in the mid-air. She wasn’t expecting to see Kyra’s very strong back today. Kyra’s trapezius and deltoid muscles were very defined, Kyra looked tough, but also soft. The dichotomy of it making was making y/n breathe out loud.

Kyra turned back to Y/n again, confusion on her face. “Don’t you want to do it anymore?” She asked the girl.

“Do what?” Y/n swallowed, trying not to look at the skin on Kyra’s back, focusing instead on Kyra’s eyes. Eyes were safe. Eyes didn’t make Y/n feel hot in places she shouldn’t feel hot at the moment.

“—The massage? You said if I didn’t wear the..”

“Oh yeah, yeah, of course!” Y/n rumbled. “Sorry,” she whispered as she placed her thumb, forefinger and middle finger on Kyra’s skin, gently pressing the sore spots.

“You’re tense,” Y/n told Kyra, “Especially here…” Y/n placed her fingers on the back of Kyra’s neck.” Y/n applied more pressure until she felt Kyra’s muscles relax. “Feels good, now?” Y/n asked, continuing to work with her fingers.

“Yeah, it feels great really,” Kyra replied, enjoying Y/n’s hand on her. Maybe Kyra was in a dry spell for months, or maybe Y/n’s fingers were really out of this world.

Kyra shivered slightly as Y/n nails scratched gently through her neck. Kyra had to hold back a moan to keep her dignity.

The realisation hit Kyra like a cold winter breeze, she was wearing a sports bra and being massaged—in the most delicious way—by a very pretty girl, who also happened to be her friend.

And now she was supposed to suck it up and share a mattress with said friend because said friend didn’t want to sleep in her room alone anymore. ‘It’s too lonely, it makes me sad’ Y/n had said.

Kyra was hyperventilating slightly. She wasn’t sure if Y/n could notice it.

Y/n moved her leg—the good one—more to the left and touched Kyra’s arm. It was such an innocent touch, but it made Kyra feel like a teenager all over again. Kyra began squirming in her spot, her palms clammy. It was seriously humiliating to feel this hot and bothered by a fucking touch on the arm.

Y/n’s fingers were quicker now, going from the middle of her back to her neck.

Kyra had been with girls before. She knew how to flirt, how to tease, where to touch. She wasn’t inexperienced or innocent on that matter. But the way Y/n was making Kyra’s body shiver just barely felt almost overwhelming—in a good, but scary way.

“Why do you seem more tense than when we started?” Y/n asked, interrupting Kyra’s inner monologue.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m …you just overwhelmed me with your flawless technique!” Kyra said, trying to sound teasing, but failing.

“Oh well, thank you,” Y/n said smiling, but still tilting her head slightly as if she did not believe Kyra’s word. “I’m trying to find new hobbies, like you said.”

“You should stick with it. Your fingers feel amazing,” Kyra breathed and then stopped. Her eyes went wide as what she had just said sank in.

“My fingers are that good, huh” Y/n said smugly, enjoying seeing Kyra squirm a little.

“You’re making it dirty,” Kyra said sheepishly.

Y/n laughed and watched as Kyra stood up. “You made it dirty first! Come on, telling a fellow lesbian her fingers feel good?”

“I just really like massages,” Kyra tried to recover from the awkwardness, her hoodie now on. “And it seems like you really liked making me squirm, so I think we’re both even.”

“Oh, okay, you turned that around quickly, I’ll give you that” Yn said, a little taken back, cheeks warm.”

“Flirting,” Alessia stated. “She was flirting with you! And you flirted back.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You just told me how you flirted with each other!” Alessia said enthusiastically, looking like a happy puppy.

“We weren’t flirting! We were teasing each other, we always do that,” Kyra argued, pointing at Alessia and then at herself. “We always do that.”

“We? Ky when was the last time I made a dirty joke on you?” Alessia questioned, crossing her arms.

“Never!” Alessia said without letting Kyra answer it. “And Y/n never teased me like that either.”

“I’m so sorry Ky but I can’t see where your confusion is coming from, it” Alessia got up, standing in front of Kyra, looking down at her. “It looks to me like you two have a little crush on each other?”

“A crush?” Kyra whined. “We aren’t seven!”

“Well, right now you’re acting like a seven-year-old who can’t see what’s happening right in front of her,” Alessias lectured softly. “What did you guys do after the massage? Please spare me any intimate details, though.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Nothing happened, we just got ready for bed and slept.”

“In the same mattress, right?” Alessia asked.

“…Yeah”

“I’m sorry baby, but you can’t be this naïve,” Alessia said softly, looking at Kyra as if she were an innocent child learning how the world works for the first time.

“What happened after the two of you woke up?” Alessia asked.

Kyra blushed as she remembered the position she was in when she opened her eyes in the morning. Y/n couldn’t move much because of her cast, but Kyra was a very fussy sleeper and had changed positions during her sleep.

When Kyra’s alarm clock went off, she wasn’t only greeted by the usual and annoying noise, but also by Y/n’s breathing. Kyra had snuggled up to Y/n’s body for some reason. Her head was on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl breathed softly into her ear.

“Don’t go,” Y/n said half asleep when Kyra tried to get up.

Kyra blushed, enjoying the way Y/n pulled at her shirt lazily.

“I have to get up and make us breakfast,” Kyra explained, taking Y/n’s hands from off her shirt. “And you have your first physical therapy session today, so we can’t be late.”

“5 more minutes? Please?” Y/n murmured

Kyra sighed, allowing Y/n to lie back on her chest. “Okay, but just 5 minutes.”

“Uhum okay,” Y/n mumbled, falling back asleep.

“Nothing much,” Kyra said, back to Alessia. “We just, I don’t know, cuddled?”

“You cuddled?” Alessias asked slowly.

“Yeah.”

“You are Y/n seemed to be in a pretty domestic bliss right now,” the blonde bent down to tie her boots. “Maybe the whole moving in together had made you realise that you have this chemistry going on?”

Kyra thought for a moment.

“I guess so? I’m not sure about chemistry, though,” she admitted. “I’m not even sure Y/n feels the same way I do.”

Kyra felt pathetic, really. Sure, perhaps she had feelings for her friends—and her roommate—but that didn’t mean that Y/n liked her back. There was always the possibility that Y/n was just lonely, and Kyra just happened to be there.

“I don’t think she’d give you a massage or cuddle up with you if she’s still saw you as just her friend,” Alessia pointed out. “Y/n isn’t the type to play hard to get—she’s very straightforward about how she feels.”

Alessia was right. Whenever the three girls went out to a bar or club, Y/n never played games with the women she wanted to take home. She was direct and confident.

“I guess I just don’t see her liking…me?” Kyra confessed, looking down. “I’m not going into a spiral of self-loathing or anything—I know I’m pretty and funny,” She half-joked.

“But Y/n’s also dealing with a lot right now. She’s focused on her recovery, getting better, starting physio… I don’t think she’s even aware of whatever this is,” Kyra added.

“Y/n’s recovering from a really bad injury, but she’s still Y/n,” Alessia countered, eyebrows furrowed. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders—I don’t think she’d be so oblivious about this whole situation.”

Before Kyra could respond, their conversation was cut short. Renée had called both players back to the pitch.

“I hope you got your mind off whatever was bothering you,” the coach said as she patted Kyra on the back.

Kyra thought of Y/n’s face.

“Yeah, I’m back now. Sorry,” Kyra said, slipping her practice vast on and jogging onto the field.

Hours later, the training was over, and Kyra was on her way to pick up Y/n from the physiotherapy clinic. Kyra parked in front of the white building, spotting Y/n already waiting with a smile on her face

“Hi, how was it?” Kyra asked as she stepped out of the car, opening the passenger door and helping Y/n inside.

“It was very good, actually,” Y/n said happily, handing Kyra her crutches so she could put them in the back seat. “Dr. Marta says my leg’s looking great and that haven’t lost too much muscle mass, so I won’t have too much trouble when we start doing the heavier exercises.”

“That’s great!” Kyra said, looking in between Y/n and the road as she drove away. “Has Dr Marta said when you’ll be cleared to do the physio back at Arsenal?”

Y/n turned on the radio and Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan filled the car. “Yeah, she said I could go in two weeks. She just wants to make sure my ligaments are strong enough first.”

Kyra put a hand on Y/n’s leg—the good one—and gave it a light squeeze. “Well, I bet your ligaments are already better than mine.”

Y/n stared at Kyra’s hand, enjoying the subtle touch.

Kyra noticed the silence and realised where her hand was. “Sorry,” she mumbled, quickly pulling it back and placing both hands on the wheel.

“it’s okay,” Y/n said, taking Kyra’s hand and putting it back on her leg. “Your hand is warm; my leg is cold. You can keep it there,” Y/n said casually.

Kyra swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she just left her hand where it was.

“But now tell me about the training—how was it?” Y/n asked, shifting the conversation. “And I saw you guys had media day! I was so bummed I missed it…I love media days”

Kyra raised an eyebrow, her thumb now gently caressing her skin. Not a big deal.

“No, you don’t.” Kyra huffed. “Last season, you pretended to have cramps, so you wouldn’t have to film a TikTok.”

“I said I love media day, I didn’t say I like making a fool of myself dancing,” Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, come on, you’re a good dancer,”

“Yeah, at parties! I don’t do well when I’m the only one dancing and everyone around me is watching,”

“Well, when you come back all healed up, I’ll do a TikTok dance with you, so you don’t have to dance alone.”

“Given your dancing skills I think we’d both be better off hiding in the changing room,” Y/n teased.

Kyra stuck her tongue out at Y/n before they both burst laughing.

Y/n felt like a caged animal whenever she was around Kyra, which was often, considering they lived together. She tried, really tried to control herself and her impulses around Kyra, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable in any way.

But every time Kyra got a little too close, Y/n had to remind herself to breathe, to think straight and not to let her gaze linger for too long.

Y/n wanted to kiss Kyra, really kiss her.

That was all she could think about when Kyra slipped a pillow under her leg without her being asked, or when she cut apples and handed them to Y/n before she even realised, she wanted a snack.

Maybe Y/n’s love language was acts of service—after all, why was she horny just because Kyra put socks on her feet?

It had been months since Y/n had kissed anyone, maybe a month or two months before her injury. She couldn’t quite remember it. So it was unnecessary to say that she was desperate.

Y/n thought she had more grace, more control in her, but it all went out the drain the moment Kyra plopped herself on her side on the mattress, fresh from the shower. Her hair was still damp, and the shampoo she used filled the room with a vanilla fragrance.

Pretty, pretty girl.

Y/n felt as if her entire brain had been short-circuited, as if her neuronal network had been designed to think about Kyra and only Kyra.

Both girls had gone out to a restaurant an hour earlier, it was the first time Y/n had seen all her teammates together since her injury. It was lovely to see all of them together after such long time.

The arsenal players stayed until late, but when Kyra and Y/n had gone home, Y/n suggested a movie night, which Kyra had agreed to—under one condition—she was the on picking the film.

‘But I’m a cheerleader’ was in the final ark already when Megan crashed the graduation party to be with Graham.

Y/n wouldn’t say it was the film itself that influenced her to take that step. It was more the subtle brush of Kyra’s arm against her own that did the trick.

“Hey, Kyra?” Y/n said, her confidence rising.

“Hmm?” Kyra mumbled, not taking her eyes off the TV.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Y/n confessed bluntly. She didn’t stutter or stumble in her words—she knew what she wanted, and she’d be very happy if Kyra wanted It too.

Kyra gasped slightly and finally looked into Y/n’s eyes. “What?”

It felt as if there was no air in her lungs as if her stomach was turning against itself. Was she dreaming?

No, she wasn’t. She was sure this was real.

“Kiss you. I really want to,” Y/n explained calmly. “But it’s alright If you don’t want to,” she added, looking intensely at Kyr

“I-I want to kiss you,” Kyra said, a hint of question in her voice.

“Yeah? You sure?” Y/n asked, slightly teasing.

“Uhum,” Kyra nodded eagerly.

“Ok,” Y/n whispered before leaning in and carefully kissing Kyra.

Y/n cupped Kyra's jaw gently, controlling the depth of their kiss with gentle confidence. Kyra's tongue slipped shyly into Y/n's mouth. Their bodies fit together in the best possible way.

The kiss was better than they had ever imagined. Y/n had kissed many women before, but Kyra was definitely her best kiss yet. Kyra’s softness and her slight hesitation to just let go of the kiss made Y/n feel hot.

It was like their bodies wanted each other for a long time.

Kyra sighed into the kiss; Y/n welcomed her breath. The kiss was slow, and deliberate, not rushed in any way—like they were savouring something they’d been waiting for a long time.

Kyra broke the kiss but didn't pull away, instead touching her forehead and looking into Y/n’s eyes. “I liked it,” Kyra said shyly.

Y/n smiled. “Me too, a lot.” She bit Kyra’s lip gently. “Can I kiss you again?”

“You can kiss me whenever you want”, Kyra said, taking Y/n's mouth back into her own.

The position their bodies were currently in was a little odd. Kyra was sitting up on the mattress, but leaning slightly on Y/n, while Y/n was lying with a pile of pillows on her back so she could sit up straighter and still be comfortable with her cast.

They kissed once, then stopped to catch their breath. And then they kissed some more. Kyra's elbow rested next to Y/n’s face while Kyra held her body over Y/n with her forearm.

“That was a very good kiss,” Kyra said, kissing Y/n's mouth, then her cheeks, then her nose. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she confessed.

"Yeah? Me too,” Y/n said, enjoying the feeling of Kyra’s lips on her face. “It was very hard not to kiss you before.”

“And I can see why, you're all flushed,” Kyra teased, now kissing the base of Y/n’s neck, sucking the skin gently, not enough to leave any mark.

“I’m not,” Y/n mumbled, very much appreciating what Kyra was doing.

“All for me” Kyra whispered, Y/n barely hearing it.

Unfortunately for Y/n, Kyra pulled away.

“No, come back,” Y/n whimpered, tugging at Kyra's oversized shirt, trying to bring her closer, but Kyra didn't give in.

Kyra smiled softly, taking Y/n's cheeks in between her hands and puckering her lips. “It's almost two in the morning,” Kyra explained, getting out of bed. “You have to take your meds, and we need to go to sleep.”

Kyra handed Y/n's prescription bottle, along a glass of water. Y/n took them, but not without making sure she was very disappointed at Kyra for ruining their snog session.

“Do you think I’m not mad at myself too?’ Kyra asked as she watched a pout form on Y/n’s face.

Kyra got back in bed and urged the girl to lay her head on her chest. “I’m having to be the responsible one! The ‘let's not move too fast’ one the ‘hey it's late and we should be sleeping.’”

Kyra continued with her rant while Y/n just enjoyed her voice and how soft her body was against her own. They weren’t kissing anymore, but they were cuddling. It was enough for Y/n.

Kyra’s fingers found themselves on Yn’s scalp massaging it.

“We really should be sleeping,” Y/n said. “I can’t barely keep my eyes closed.”

“I swear I could stay up late without a problem a few years ago,” Kyra added.

Y/n patted Kyra's cheek patronisingly. “And that's because you're getting older, babe,” Y/n murmured.

“I don't like it.”

“You'll get used to it.”

“You say it like you’re much older than me,” Kyra said.

Y/n noticed her voice sounded more tired now.

“I am.”

“Only 2 years.”

“Enough to have a fully developed brain.”

Y/n waited for Kyra's familiar teasing remarks, but they didn't come. She was already fast asleep. And so was Y/n a few moments later.

| PART 4 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Masterlist

#woso #woso fanfic #woso x reader #woso appreciation #kyra cooney cross #arsenal women #women soccer

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cei1ne · 4 months ago

Text

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

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