#I just don’t take it because I’m too lazy

[hurtblossom]

Lover ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!Reader

Summary : In the middle of heartbreak and unspoken feelings, (Y/N) finds her place both behind the camera and in Lando Norris’s life, as they cautiously build a connection worth risking everything for.

Warning : Nothing, just fluff

Part 2 to this

The weeks after Lando’s confession felt surreal. (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to expect after their conversation at the café. It wasn’t as though everything could change overnight—she was still cautious, her heart too bruised to let down all its defenses. But Lando seemed to understand that. He didn’t push. Instead, he found little ways to show her he meant what he’d said.

One evening, as she sat editing footage from their latest shoot, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was Lando.

Lando: What’s the best pizza topping combo? Lando: Asking for a very important debate.

She smiled, shaking her head.

(Y/N): Margarita. Classic and unbeatable. (Y/N): Why?

His response came almost instantly.

Lando: Wrong answer. Lando: Pineapple is the GOAT. Lando: Max agrees. Lando: Ria thinks we’re all insane. Lando: Also, I just wanted to check in. Lando: How’s your night?

Her smile faltered for a moment, her chest tightening at the unexpected warmth in his words. He didn’t have to do this—reach out to her, make her feel seen. But he did.

(Y/N): Busy, but good. Thanks for asking. You?

Lando: Better now that I know you’re not buried in stress. Lando: Don’t stay up too late, yeah?

It was a small exchange, but it left her heart lighter. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, Lando was trying to prove he cared in ways she hadn’t dared to hope for.

~~~

The next Quadrant shoot was a return to the ridiculous antics the team was known for—a blindfolded cooking challenge. (Y/N) arrived early, as usual, setting up her cameras and prepping the equipment. She was adjusting the lighting when Lando walked in, his hair slightly messy, a lazy grin on his face.

“Morning, chef,” he teased, stopping beside her. “Ready to document the greatest culinary disaster of our time?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “If by ‘greatest’ you mean ‘most unappetizing,’ then absolutely.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure I can bribe you for some favorable edits. Just say the word.”

“Bribe me with what? Pineapple pizza?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me. But yes, pineapple pizza. It’s the ultimate peace offering.”

Their playful banter caught the attention of the others, who immediately started teasing.

“Oi, Lando, stop flirting and get over here!” Max called out, earning a round of laughter from the crew.

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, but Lando seemed unfazed, flashing her a quick wink before heading to join the chaos. She watched him go, her heart fluttering despite her best efforts to stay grounded.

Quiet Moments

The shoot was a success—messy, chaotic, and hilarious, as always. But it was the quiet moments afterward that lingered in her mind.

While the rest of the team celebrated their “culinary masterpieces” in the lounge, (Y/N) stayed behind in the studio, packing up her gear. She was stacking tripods when Lando walked in, a takeaway box in hand.

“Figured you’d still be here,” he said, holding out the box. “Saved you some food. Don’t worry, no pineapple.”

She blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his expression casual but his tone warm. “I wanted to. You always take care of us, so… someone’s gotta look out for you too.”

Her chest tightened, and she accepted the box with a soft “thank you.” They sat together on the edge of the stage, the studio quiet around them.

“You’ve been quieter lately,” he said after a moment, glancing at her. “Not just today—since you came back. Is it… because of me?”

She hesitated, fiddling with the corner of the box. “It’s not you, Lando. Not exactly. I just… I’m still figuring out where I fit in all this.”

“You fit,” he said firmly, his gaze steady. “More than you know.”

The sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten. She wanted to believe him, but the lingering insecurities were hard to shake. Still, his words stayed with her long after they left the studio that night.

~~~

Weeks passed, and (Y/N) began to notice subtle changes in their dynamic. Lando seemed to go out of his way to include her, whether it was during shoots or group outings. He started inviting her to lunch with the team, pulling her into conversations, even teasing her on camera—moments that often left her flustered but secretly thrilled.

One afternoon, during a rare day off, he texted her out of the blue.

Lando: Fancy a karting rematch? Lando: I promise not to go easy on you this time.

The memory of their last impromptu race—a chaotic, laughter-filled mess where she’d somehow beaten him—brought a smile to her face.

(Y/N): Rematch? (Y/N): You’re just mad you lost to me.

Lando: Exactly. Lando: My pride is on the line. Lando: Meet me at 3?

She hesitated for a moment before typing her reply.

(Y/N): You’re on.

When she arrived at the track, he was already there, leaning casually against a kart. He greeted her with a grin, his competitive energy infectious.

The race was as ridiculous as she’d expected, filled with trash talk, near collisions, and plenty of laughter. When she crossed the finish line—barely ahead of him—she threw her arms up in victory.

“Two for two,” she teased, removing her helmet. “You’re losing your touch, Norris.”

He laughed, pulling off his own helmet. “You’ve got a lucky streak, that’s all. Next time, it’s over for you.”

But as they stood there, still catching their breath, his expression softened. “Thanks for coming out today. I needed this.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his tone catching her off guard. “Me too,” she admitted quietly.

A Confession Revisited

The real turning point came one evening after a late shoot. The team had gone out to celebrate, but (Y/N) stayed behind, finishing up some last-minute edits. She was so focused on her laptop that she didn’t notice Lando until he spoke.

“You’re always working,” he said, his voice warm.

She looked up, startled to see him standing in the doorway. “I could say the same about you.”

He grinned but didn’t respond, stepping closer until he was standing beside her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled with unspoken tension.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, his tone careful. “About why you left.”

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Lando, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupted gently. “Because I hate that I made you feel like you didn’t matter. You do, (Y/N). You always have.”

Her breath caught, and she looked away, her heart pounding.

“I know I was blind before,” he continued, his voice soft but insistent. “But I see you now. And if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like to prove it.”

She stared at him, her emotions a whirlwind of hope and fear. “Lando… what if this doesn’t work? What if it changes everything?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said simply, his gaze steady. “But I think it’s worth the risk. Don’t you?”

For a long moment, she said nothing, the weight of his words settling over her. But then, slowly, she nodded, a tentative smile breaking through her uncertainty.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I think it is.”

The smile that spread across his face was brighter than she’d ever seen, and for the first time, (Y/N) felt like she wasn’t just behind the lens anymore. She was finally part of the story.

In the weeks that followed, their relationship grew slowly but surely, filled with small, meaningful moments—quiet conversations, shared laughter, and the steady reassurance that they were building something real. And though (Y/N) still carried traces of her old insecurities, Lando’s unwavering support made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d found her place—not just in the team, but in his heart.

taglist : @landossainz , @carloswife , @scopeiguess , @stylesmoonlight12 , @raynetargaryan2 , @rawr-123s-stuff , @myescapefromthislife , @nxk1309 , @bbg-blue-lock , @spooky-librarian-ghost , @lisa24x

[elliee3e]

imagine being logan’s controversially young girlfriend. like, controversially as in 19-early twenties… ugh i’m screaming MMMM

and nobody knows.

content warnings ;

size kink, age play, slight humiliation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected piv, teasing, brief mention of thigh riding, spit play also not proof read i got lazy !!! sorryyyyyyy😭

nobody knows how you show up to his room late at night in just a little nightdress, when the x-mansion’s quiet — filled only with the soft snores of students slipping out from their room… nobody knows how he’ll open the door for you and you two will be at it crazy.

he’ll take you into his bed — let you cozy up into his big arms until you’re squirming into his lap because you just can’t handle the size difference between you two.

and you were just making it so damn hard to stay rational for logan. every shift, every breath against his skin was making him want you more and more: and sometimes he’d give in, sometimes the guilt would eat at him.

“you’re a goddamn kid, baby. you don’t know what you want, let alone need.” he’d grumble, hand squeezing your soft hips again as he thought to himself that you should be with someone your age. not some old and broken man. and you were pouting at him, reminding him that you were well over the age of a ‘kid’. that small pout of yours that he thought was adorable, that soft, pretty pout, now was going to be the end of him.

“doll, you gotta just understand you’re too young for me. you need—“ he was cut off suddenly by that small body of yours against his thigh, your hips against the thick muscle, driving his mind wild. he exhaled a low groan deep in his throat, his hand gripping your waist on instinct. and this is where he knew he’d lost it.

that single roll of your hips against his thigh made him grip you tighter, his hand on your soft waist holding you down on his lap. He was trying to control himself, trying to think but you were making it damn hard when you were grinding against him like that. “jesus, darlin’..” he’d groan, voice deep and husky. “careful, don’t wanna hurt ya..”

and it was ironic, how he was worried about hurting you right now. because if he’s already that concerned with just you grinding innocently on his thigh, imagine how worried he’d be when you ride him.

as soon as your small thighs were spread on either side of his thick ones, his hands would move down to hold them — gently lifting you up so you could hover just slightly above his aching length, before slowly letting you slide down to take it.

he’d feel you trembling from the big stretch: you were just so small and delicate — and he always felt like he was definitely going to break you. he’d murmur soft little things like: “c’mon baby.. i’ve got ya, got ya right on me— that’s it.. mhm..” into your ear, big roughed up hands running through your soft pretty hair gently; tucking the loose strands behind your ear, watching your face in pleasure.

he’d keep at it like that, just letting you move your hips against him for your pleasure — milking it out of him. until he’d notice your moans turning into little whines, your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut. he knew he’d found that sweet spot when he heard you gasp out how good it was, and god was that an accomplishment for him.

“ah, yeah. there, huh? that feel good, baby girl?” he’d groan, making sure you were alright as his hands would grip your hips tighter, trying to prevent himself from throwing all his self control out the window as he started to push his hips up to meet your now sloppy little bounces. “found your spot, hm? right here?”

you’d moan incoherently at this point, nodding desperately, head lulling against his neck as you’d mumble how close you were, feeling the heat in your belly burning up more as his rough hand found the soft flesh there — grabbing at it. “close, ain’t ya, doll?” he’d pant, feeling more desperate as you’d moan his name desperate for more — your back arching and hips bucking for more.

but he couldn’t have you finish without him, no.

“not yet, baby. gotta hold it.. just gimmie a few minutes..”

he’d curse under his breath to himself as he watched your thighs tremble from the denial. god you were too damn pretty right now. his body trembled as you whimpered and whined even more. he’d then suddenly pull out, making you gasp and leaving you empty, his breathing short and heavy. however his hands quickly went to your hips to flip you over. “on your belly, baby.” he’d pant, needing you in a new position.

and holy fuck would that be the most life changing position ever.

slipping into your gorgeous pussy from behind, letting his cock stretch it to the hilt, buried so deep you felt him all tangled up in your guts with each and every thrust. the type of fuck that had your eyes rolling back in an instant and your lips parting, little whimpers and babbles spilling outta it like they were all your pretty mouth knew.

he’d grab your chin too, tease you for it, make you look at your reflection in the mirror.

“ah, such a mess. look at ya, you see yourself? gettin’ fucked stupid by me, baby?” his rough voice would ask, keeping his hand there to make sure you looked at your own fucked out reflection — and also the catch the drool that had pooled and fell from your lips.

he always loved you like this. it was when you’d get the most messy, and where he could really humiliate you — tease you — and yet even praise you, leaning down and placing little kisses all over the side of your pretty face whenever he had the heart to.

until finally, he’d let you cum.

only after you’d begged so much though your head was getting foggy, till your small body was quivering under his big one to the point that it looked like you were gonna collapse. his rough fingers would snake down and prod at your swollen clit, giving it the attention it had lacked this whole time.

“mm, i ignored her this whole time, didn’ i baby?” he’d lean closer to your ear and ask, as if he didn’t already know the answer. he just loved seeing you struggle even more to form something other than your meaningless babbles. and only when you’d manage to get something other than that, would he let you cum — letting his fingers do the work on your clit as he just kept you nice and full and satisfied, like the pretty princess you were.

౨ৎ

[look-me]

“𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺”

abby anderson x masc!reader

pt 3

all the chapters in my masterlist

TW: weed, sex, idk what else

Please don’t mind any grammar mistakes, and please keep in mind that English isn’t my native language. P.S. I’ve never written smut before. Also, I probably won’t correct any mistakes because I’m too lazy to do so.

When the car finally pulls up in front of Abby’s house, You don’t even bother to look at her as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, stepping out into the cold night air.

Abby follows you, her presence like a weight behind you, but you don’t turn around. Not yet. You just keep walking toward the front door.

Inside, the house is quiet, too quiet. The faint glow of the kitchen light filters through the dark hallway, casting long shadows on the floor. Abby shuts the door behind you, the sound of it slamming echoing in the otherwise still house.

You glance back at her, your voice low, barely containing your fury. “What the hell is wrong with you, Abby?”

Her eyes narrow at you, the blue in her gaze like ice, hard and cold. “You think I’m the one with a problem?” she spits, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’re the one who started all this bullshit, playing games, running away from me. You kissed me, Y/N, and then you act like I’m the one who’s crazy?”

“Are you seriously blaming me for this?” You throw your hands up in exasperation, stepping closer to her. “You’re the one who can’t make up your damn mind, Abby. You act like you don’t care, like I’m just another person to fuck around with, and then you have the nerve to get mad when I try to protect myself from getting hurt!”

Abby’s nostrils flare as she steps toward you, her breath coming out in short bursts. “Don’t you dare act like you’re some victim in this,”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You recoil, but the anger inside you flares even brighter. “You think you can just tell me what to do, who I can see? Because I’m not yours Abby”

Abby takes a step forward, her chest nearly touching yours now. “You want to keep acting like you don’t care? Like none of this means anything to you? Fine.“

A sharp, tense silence fills the space between you, your breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps. For a moment, neither of you moves, and then, as if an invisible line has been crossed, Abby suddenly shoves you back. You stumble, but catch yourself just before hitting the wall.

“You don’t get to walk away from me, Y/N,” she growls, her voice low and venomous.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you snap, your eyes burning with anger. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m some kind of toy you can play with whenever it suits you. If you don’t want to be with me, then stop pretending like you do. Make up your damn mind.”

The words seem to hang in the air between you, suffocating everything around them. Abby stands there, her chest heaving with anger, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, her phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table across the room.

You both freeze, the buzzing a jarring interruption to the intensity that’s thick in the air. Abby glances at it, then at you, clearly annoyed by the distraction but still unwilling to move.

The phone buzzes again, louder this time, demanding attention.

With a sigh, Abby finally walks over to the bedside table, her movements stiff. She picks up her phone, and when she sees the name flashing on the screen, her expression falters for just a moment. Riley.

A smirk spreads across your face as you catch a glimpse of the name. The shift in Abby’s demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It’s subtle, but it’s there. A crack in the armor she’s worked so hard to maintain.

Abby’s gaze flickers to you, her eyes narrowing slightly, though she tries to hide it behind a mask of indifference. “What?” she asks, her voice tight, trying to maintain control. But you can see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes, a brief crack in her usually unshakable facade.

You step closer, your voice dripping with playful challenge. “You don’t want her to know that I’m here, do you?”

Abby stiffens, her jaw tightening, but she doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she turns the phone over in her hand, her fingers brushing the screen, but she doesn’t pick up the call.

“It’s nothing,” she mutters, though her voice is strained, as if trying to convince herself more than you.

“Then answer the phone, Abigail,” you say, crossing your arms, a challenging smile tugging at your lips. The playfulness in your voice only adds fuel to the fire of the argument that’s already been burning between you.

Abby’s gaze flickers to you once more, her lips pressing into a thin line. The room is thick with tension as she stares at the phone, her grip tightening.

“No,” she finally says, her voice clipped. “It’s nothing. Just some bullshit I don’t need to deal with right now.”

But you can see through her. You can see the doubt in her eyes, the uncertainty creeping in. Abby isn’t used to feeling vulnerable, and right now, she’s doing everything she can to hide it.

Without waiting for her to say anything else, you walk toward her, closing the distance between you. “Maybe it’s time you stop pretending, Abby. You can’t just shut people out when it gets hard. You can’t keep pretending everything’s fine while you’re stuck in this stupid game you’re playing.”

Abby looks at you, her expression hardening once again. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know more than you think,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. “You’re scared, Abby. And I’m tired of being dragged into your mess.”

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words, with the rawness of your emotions crashing against each other. But neither of you speaks. Instead, there’s just a tense, lingering silence, both of you trapped in your own stubbornness.

Then, with a final glance at her phone, Abby walks past you, her back stiff, and heads toward the door. “I’m done with this,” she says, her voice low as she steps out of the room, you're left standing there, feeling the weight of everything that's been left unsaid. The silence presses down on you like a heavy weight, and you're seething, trying to figure out how to process everything that's just happened.

Then you hear it-the unmistakable sound of water running from the bathroom.

She's really doing this? You're still standing here, frustrated and pissed off, and she's in there taking a shower like you're not even in her house.

"Are you fucking taking a shower while we're arguing and you leave me here?" you shout, unable to keep the anger out of your voice.

There's no response.

Just the sound of water splashing against tiles. You feel your frustration building, but Abby clearly isn't interested in engaging right now. You pace the room, your fists clenched, as you try to hold on to the irritation that's growing inside of you. A few minutes later, the water shuts off, and you hear the soft sound of the bathroom door opening.

Then, she appears.

Abby steps into the room, wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around her waist, her skin glistening with the warmth of the shower. You freeze for a second, taken aback by how effortless and stunning she looks. The towel barely covers her, and your eyes automatically drift to her bare shoulders, the curve of her hips, the way the fabric clings just enough to leave nothing to the imagination.

And then, you notice something new. Her hair. For the first time, Abby's hair is down, falling in wet waves around her face. She looks different, more carefree, and it hits you harder than you expected.

You've always loved her hair down-there's something incredibly intimate about it, like she's finally letting her guard down in front of you.

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "Damn," you mutter, before catching yourself. "I didn't know you looked like this with your hair down."

Abby doesn't miss the way you're looking at her.

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest in a subtle challenge. "What, you didn't think I could pull it off?"

You shake your head, trying to stay focused. "I don't know what I thought. But right now, l'm more concerned with you leaving me alone in your house after a fight. Are you really just gonna ignore me like this?"

She stands there for a moment, her gaze flickering from your eyes to your body. Then, her expression softens, just a little. "It's late. You're not going anywhere. You can stay here for the night."

You're about to argue, but she cuts you off. "No, I'm not asking. You're staying. Don't make this harder than it needs to be”

You want to protest, but the look in her eyes silences you. Abby isn't giving you an option.

"You can't just make decisions for me," you snap, but she doesn't back down.

"I'm not," she says coolly. "I'm telling you. Now, go take a shower. I left some clean clothes on the bed."

You open your mouth to argue again, but she raises her hand, silencing you. "You've got two choices. Go shower or stand here in your dirty clothes. Up to you."

You huff in frustration, but you know there's no point in fighting her. You make your way to the bathroom, still simmering, but as you step inside and close the door behind you, you can't help but let out a frustrated breath.

After you've showered, you grab the clean clothes Abby left for you-just a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. As you dry off with the towel, you make your way to her bedroom to get dressed, hoping to get some space from the tension that's been hanging between you two all night.

But as you step into her bedroom, you freeze. The towel still around your waist, you feel two hands on your back, fingers sliding down your skin, sending a jolt of shock through you.

"Fuck, Abby, you scared me," you snap, spinning around, heart pounding in your chest.

Abby's standing there, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from her body, her own towel barely clinging to her figure. Her hair is still down, wet strands framing her face as she pulls you into her space. Before you can say anything else, she grabs your face gently with both hands, forcing you to look at her through the mirror.

"Not my fault, princess," she whispers, her voice low, playful, and intense. "You're in my bedroom, wearing only a towel. What makes you think I won't do something about it?"

Your pulse quickens, and you roll your eyes, trying to brush off the tension. "Stop it, I don't even like my body," you say, but the words feel hollow coming out of your mouth.

Abby's expression softens, and before you can say anything else, she grabs you by the shoulders, turning you to face her. She pins you to the bed with surprising strength. "Look at me," she demands, her voice almost a command.

You try to look away, but she holds you there, her fingers lightly brushing your chin to make sure you meet her eyes. "I said look at me," she repeats, her voice softer this time, full of something you can't quite place.

And then she says the words you didn't expect.

"You're gorgeous."

You don't know what to say, the words getting stuck in your throat as she leans in and kisses you softly on the lips. The kiss is slow, tender, as if she's trying to reassure you without saying a word.

Then, she moves down to your neck, her lips grazing your skin with a featherlight touch.

You shiver involuntarily, but Abby doesn't stop.

She trails soft kisses along your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. When she reaches your ear, she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

"'ll make it up to you. I promise."

Her lips press against your cheek in a gentle kiss, lingering there for just a moment longer than expected. Then, she pulls back, her gaze intense as she steps away from the bed.

"Now get dressed," she says, a playful glint in her eyes. "I want to eat. I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

You step out of the bedroom, feeling the lingering weight of everything still hanging between you and Abby. You find her on the couch, dressed now in her usual loose flannel shirt and some pair of boxers, giving off that masculine aura that always seems to draw your attention. She’s scrolling through her phone, not paying you any mind. The room feels quieter now, the tension thick in the air as you stand there, unsure of how to proceed.

Without saying anything, you walk over to the couch and sit next to her. You feel your heart racing, but you can’t just keep pretending that everything’s fine anymore.

“I’m not really hungry,” you mutter softly, still not looking at her, your voice almost lost in the silence.

Abby glances at you briefly, then shrugs. “I’m not either, but I was going to cook if you were hungry.”

You nod absently, not knowing what to say next, your mind spinning with everything you’ve been holding in. Finally, the words start tumbling out, too fast to stop.

“Abby, you play with people. You have so many girls with you. You can literally call all of them to come over right now, and they’ll be here in the blink of an eye. I don’t want to be one of them.”

As you speak, your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. You wipe it away quickly, hoping Abby didn’t notice, but you feel that familiar rush of vulnerability threatening to overwhelm you.

“I’m scared of ending up alone, Abby,” you say, your voice raw, but still trying to hold it together. You don’t want her to see you as weak, to see you as little. You don’t want her to pity you.

But the words are out now, hanging in the space between you two, and you can’t take them back. You try to turn away, but before you can, you feel her hand gently reach for your face, turning you toward her.

Abby’s touch is tender, surprisingly soft, as her thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the tear you missed. Her hands hold your face gently, making sure you can’t look away. The seriousness in her eyes is undeniable, and for the first time, you see the raw emotion beneath her usually guarded expression.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice quiet, but firm. “Don’t hide from me.” She wipes away another tear, her touch almost like she’s trying to erase the hurt that’s been weighing on you for so long.

You refuse to look at her, still fighting to hold your composure, but Abby doesn’t let you pull away. “Look at me,” she says, her tone not demanding, just insistent. “Please.”

Finally, you meet her gaze, the vulnerability in your eyes clear. “I don’t want to be a part of your game. I don’t know how to be with you when I’m so scared of losing myself.”

Abby doesn’t speak at first, her hands still cupping your face as she looks at you intently. Then, with a sigh, she pulls you gently into her arms, holding you tightly against her chest, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I’m not playing with you,” she murmurs into your hair. “ I don’t want you to feel alone.”

You feel her breath against your skin, the warmth of her body comforting in a way that makes everything else seem to fade, even for just a moment. But the fear is still there, lurking in the back of your mind, and you can’t help but ask the question that’s been haunting you.

“Then why do you have so many other girls, Abby? What makes me different?”

Abby pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, her hand still resting on your cheek. The intensity in her gaze is undeniable, like she’s trying to pull the words from deep inside her.

“ I’m not going to treat you like anyone else. I don’t know how i will make you see that, but I’m going to prove it over and over, if I have to.”

You stay silent, your heart pounding, torn between the need to believe her and the instinct to protect yourself. Every inch of you wants to pull away, to shut it all out before you get hurt. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breathing and you fall asleep in Abby’s arms, the steady rise and fall of her chest lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Abby, sensing you’re completely out, stays there with you for a while, letting you rest. The comfort of her presence eases the tension in your body, and she doesn’t want to disturb you.

But eventually, as time passes and she realizes you’re not going to wake up soon, Abby carefully shifts, gently moving you so she can get up. She stands and, without much effort, scoops you into her arms, cradling you like a bride. It’s an oddly tender gesture from someone so fierce, but the strength in her arms and the way she holds you makes you feel safe.

Abby walks to her bed, carefully settling you underneath the blankets. Once you’re comfortable, she pulls the covers up to your chin, tucking you in. She stays for a moment, watching over you as you sleep, but soon lies down next to you, her body still close, but not quite touching.

The warmth of her presence keeps you feeling grounded. You stir a little, eventually waking up, and the first thing you notice is the unfamiliar softness of the bed and the fact that you’re no longer on the couch. You blink, confused, and whisper, “How did I end up in your bed?”

Abby’s voice is calm, almost amused, when she answers, “You fell asleep, princess.”

You turn to her side, suddenly feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. Without thinking, you roll toward her and instinctively hug her, pressing your face into her pillow. “I’m sorry”

Abby doesn’t return the hug. She lies there, stiff and unreadable, her breathing steady but distant. The warmth you’d felt earlier is replaced by a wall you can’t quite get through. You pull back slightly, glancing up at her face, but her expression is calm, almost indifferent.

“Go to sleep, princess,” she says, her voice low and cold, with no trace of the softness from earlier.

The words cut through the air, leaving no room for argument. You nod silently, turning away and curling up under the blankets, feeling the weight of the space between you. Abby doesn’t move closer, and the silence stretches long into the night.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easily.

2 days later

The kitchen’s quiet, save for the scrape of Abby’s fork against her plate. She’s still in her workout gear, muscles tense like she just got back from beating the crap out of a punching bag. You’re leaning against the counter, watching her as you try to figure out how to say this.

“Ellie’s having a party tomorrow night,” you finally say, keeping your tone casual.

Abby doesn’t even look up. “So?”

“She invited me.”

“Good for her,” Abby mutters, still focused on her plate.

You cross your arms, leaning your weight on one leg. “I was thinking you could come with me.”

That gets her attention. Abby’s fork freezes midair before she sets it down with an exaggerated clink. Her eyes meet yours, and there’s that familiar edge in her gaze—calculated, sharp, and clearly annoyed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

Abby leans back in her chair, arms folding across her chest as she stares at you. “You seriously want me to go to some party organized by the girl who’s been trying to get under my skin since day one?”

“She’s not gonna do anything,” you reply, keeping your voice steady. “It’s just a party.”

Abby laughs—a short, humorless sound. “Yeah, sure.”

“Abby.” Your tone is firm, but she doesn’t budge. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is. She invited me because we’re friends,” you say, keeping your voice calm but firm. “That’s it. You know where we stand.”

“Do I?” Abby’s eyes narrow, and there’s a heat in her voice now, the kind that warns you to tread carefully.

You meet her glare head-on. “Yeah. You do. Or you should, by now.”

The tension hangs heavy between you, neither of you backing down. Abby finally looks away, running a hand through her hair, her fingers tugging at the blonde strands in frustration. “I’m not going. End of story.”

You let out a slow breath, keeping your tone even. “Fine. Then I’ll go alone.”

Abby’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say, crossing your arms. “If you’re not coming, I’ll just go by myself. No big deal.”

She stares at you like you just challenged her to a fight.

“I just thought you’d want to be there with me. But if you don’t, fine. Stay home.”

Abby glares at you for another long moment before she finally lets out a low, reluctant sigh. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” you reply, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Just don’t start anything.”

Abby rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue further. She picks up her fork and stabs at her food, muttering something under her breath that you don’t quite catch.

You let her have the last word this time. You got what you wanted. For now.

[brainrotss]

lost things and lazy days 🍯

jason todd x gn!reader

jason todd fluff + suggestive content towards the end

Jason had declared a day off, a rare phenomenon in itself. It was the kind of occasion you’d once thought would mean indulgent, lazy hours together: coffee in bed, a nap in the sunlight streaming through the windows, maybe even some takeout for dinner. But Jason wasn’t particularly good at being idle. He’d lasted exactly an hour before retreating to the fire escape with a book in hand and a cigarette between his lips, leaving you alone to your own devices.

And so, naturally, you’d filled the time by cleaning. The laundry was folded and tucked away, the sink sparkled, and your jewelry box—which hadn’t been touched in months—was finally getting its due. You’d made an afternoon of it, wiping down necklaces, untangling chains, and polishing earrings you’d forgotten you owned.

It wasn’t until you came across your nose stud—the tiny gold one Jason had always complimented—that you paused. Next to it was the new one he’d given you, sleek and crimson, the faint outline of his Red Hood emblem carved delicately into the design. You turned it over in your fingers, smiling faintly. It was so uncharacteristic of him to pick something so refined, but somehow, it suited you.

With a determined nod, you decided to make the switch. Carefully, you unscrewed the gold stud, balancing it between your fingers—only for it to slip, hit the floor with a faint plink, and vanish.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping to your hands and knees. The jewelry couldn’t have gone far. You swept your hand under the dresser, the nightstand, even the edge of the rug. Still, nothing.

“Should I be concerned?” Jason’s voice cut through your muttering, tinged with amusement.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder. He stood in the doorway, his broad frame backlit by the pale winter light streaming through the living room. His arms were crossed, and he wore the kind of smirk that promised trouble.

“Jason,” you sighed, exasperated. “Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

But he didn’t move. His gaze swept over you slowly, deliberately, taking in the sight of you on all fours, hair falling in your face, your body arched in a position that was clearly making it difficult for him to focus.

“Help you?” he repeated, tilting his head as his smirk widened. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve got it under control.”

You huffed, pushing back a strand of hair and fixing him with a glare. “I dropped my nose stud—the one you like. If I don’t find it, it’s gone forever. So stop staring and do something.”

Jason stepped into the room, crouching down beside you with a casual ease. His grin didn’t waver; if anything, it grew sharper. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I kind of like this. You, on your hands and knees, asking for my help.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, though you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the floor.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “If you wanted me to walk in on this, you could’ve just said so. No need to drop expensive jewelry to get my attention.”

“Jason,” you warned, the edge in your voice tempered by the faint tremor of amusement.

“What?” he asked, innocent as ever. “You can’t blame your boyfriend for appreciating the view.”

You sighed, crawling toward the dresser. “If you’re not going to help, you can leave.”

Jason chuckled, finally lowering himself fully to the floor. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist—unless that’s part of the plan too.”

“Jason.”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s find your precious stud before you combust.”

For a while, the two of you searched in relative silence, Jason occasionally tossing out comments about how nose studs were designed to torment people or how you should consider wearing something less tiny next time. You ignored him for the most part, though your cheeks stayed warm, his earlier words echoing in the back of your mind.

“Got it,” he said finally, fishing the stud out from under the bed. He held it up between two fingers, the gold glinting faintly in the light. “See? I’m a goddamn hero.”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly, reaching for it. But Jason pulled his hand back, his grin returning in full force.

“Hold up,” he said. “You’re not getting this back for free.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jason, give it to me.”

“Not until you thank me properly,” he said, his tone dropping into something warmer, darker. “You know, for saving the day.”

You arched an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait. “And what, exactly, would a ‘proper’ thank-you entail?”

Jason leaned closer, his free hand brushing lightly against your jaw. “I think you know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You met his gaze evenly, though your heart betrayed you by skipping a beat. “Tell you what,” you said, snatching the stud from his hand before he could react, “I’ll give you a proper thank-you after I clean up the mess you’ve been leaving all week.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before a slow grin spread across his face. “We're about to make a bigger one baby, cmon” he purred.

“don't care, you aren't getting out of this,” you countered, standing and brushing off your knees.

Jason stood too, stepping closer until there was almost no space between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you gently against him. “You’re lucky I like it when you fight back,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“And you’re lucky I have the patience of a saint,” you shot back, though your voice softened as his fingers traced lazy circles against your hip.

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained, before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Careful, sweetheart,” he said, his grin turning almost wolfish. “I’m not as patient as you.”

[parkitrighthere]

Parkitrighthere wrapped 2024

Big love to @kingofbodyrolls (honestly, how are you so sweet? Teach me your ways) for tagging me!

Okay, so here’s the thing: I literally just started posting fics in October, so I have no business doing a wrap-up. But when have I ever let “having no business” stop me? Exactly. So here we are.

Let’s talk about 2024, aka The Year That Tried to Kill Me. It started all cute and hopeful, and then February said, “Watch this,” and yeeted me straight into the abyss. By March, I was officially doing the crying-in-the-shower Olympics (gold medalist here). Honestly, my mental health decided to host its own reality show, complete with plot twists, backstabbers, and… commercial breaks, apparently?

And don’t even get me started on my birthday. Like, crying on my birthday is practically tradition at this point, but this year? Oh, it was a performance. A symphony of sobs.

But hey, there were good moments too. I made some friends (hi, you lovely weirdos). Lost some too. All in all, I’m just happy this year is over.

2025, please be nice. And if you’re not, at least make it funny.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

ASHES OF A PROMISE Chapter 1

597 notes – October 16, 2024

(People liked this one, so I’m convinced it was a fluke. But hey, thanks for reading!)

LATEST FIC OF 2024

ASHES OF A PROMISE Chapter 2

388 notes – November 19, 2024

BLACK ORCHID PROJECT Chapter 1

215 notes – December 24, 2024

(This one’s my baby right now. Let’s see if I can keep it alive in 2025.)

FIC RECS OF 2024

Okay, so I didn’t read much this year because, you know, life was lifing. But here are some gems that I did read and absolutely loved:

Wild & Free by @ktownshizzle (this fic owns my soul)

Jenga by @closer-to-jungkook (my serotonin provider)

Esati by @closer-to-jungkook (I mean please write more because I need to read the next part, thank you)

Sprouting Love by @kingofbodyrolls (I will forever scream about this)

Tell Me What to Do by @letsbangts (love love love)

Down and Down by @kkukverse (I’m still spiraling)

Lady’s Honor by @chimcess (I wish to read more fics like this)

Sweet Love by @spideyjimin (this fic hugged me, I swear)

TOP STATS OF 2024

Total notes: 4,678 (which feels illegal?)

Total posts: 112 original / 143 (31 reblogs) (because I’m lazy) [check status here]

Total words written: 94.6k (which sounds fake but okay)

Top muses: Jimin and Jungkook (because duh).

TOP TEN TRACKS OF 2024

1. “Standing Next to You” – Jungkook (he owns my ears)

2. “Filter” – Jimin (it’s Jimin, need I say more?)

3. “Unspoken Words” – mxmtoon (crying into my coffee vibes)

4. “Room for You” – Madison Cunningham (soft and sad and everything)

5. “Moonlight Sunrise” – TWICE

6. “Alone With You” – Ardhito Pramono (chill vibes, 10/10)

7. “Closer to You” – Jungkook

8. “Double Take” – Dhruv (this song is a hug)

9. “Love Like This” – Zayn

10. “Gracie’s Song” – Ben Abraham

GOALS FOR 2025

Don’t die (the bare minimum, I know).

Write more (aka stop procrastinating).

Read more (stop doomscrolling, me).

Actually finish that one story (chill, you don't know).

Draw more (absolutely not stick figures).

Complete my articleship (cries in deadlines).

TAGGING (but no pressure!):

@closer-to-jungkook @livingformintyoongi @ktownshizzle

Here’s to surviving another year, my friends. Let’s hope 2025 doesn’t bully us too much. Cheers!

[quibbs126]

I’m a failure

[mammomlette]

People don’t talk about MC needing to wear a magical ring to not accidentally yk cause NATURAL DISASTERS with their powers??? Not only accidentally but without realising???

Diavolo or smthn is asking too much of MC or being a bit too annoying and their other hand slowly drifts towards the ring and they hold onto it while maintaining dead eye contact. Like continue to piss me off hoe I’ll blink and blow a hole in your castle idk

Obv they never do it (or do they?) but the threat is there and it’s a risk dia (or whoever but I’m using dia) can’t take

[thwackk]

welcome to the gigantic boots for silly guys convention, this is the president

[dykedvonte]

Hello, I've recently followed you because I love your nuanced character analysis on Mouthwashing. On a post you mentioned writing a fic. Where would I be able to read it?

If it’s the one about like Curly not getting flayed in the crash and Jimmy dying then I have yet to write it. It probably won’t be a thing until after the next chapter of the current fic, Dental Hygiene. This fic has a more concrete stopping point in my head whistle the other one is gonna be way more subjective and explorative. So I’m in no rush.

If you want to read it it’s here (link). But sorry if I got ur hopes up.

[laomelettedufromage]

The aroace flag color picked from my profile picture of Wuxian because I am aroace and once I saw it I couldn’t unsee it

[brittlebutch]

working on another I Like You Too fic btw. i got distracted by the whole HRT wait but Im back at it again :3

[apotelesmaa]

This is the ideal & supported by canon ruikasa dynamic btw

[itspileofgoodthings]

okay but speaking soberly and seriously for a second there is a modern spirit of rejecting something that is Truly Great and Wonderful in favor of the mediocre because the mediocre is easier to control, manipulate, and make in our own image and it is both maddening and offensive to me.

[mutalune]

really wish there was a tag that separated “I’m having Big Angry and/or Angsty Opinions about Star Wars” from “I’m goofing off with Star Wars I’m playing in the sandbox none of this is real so yes I will make my blorbo and this random glub shitto go on an adventure that makes no logical sense” posts because there’s too much of the former and not enough of the latter for my current mental state

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night

[goldensunset]

this ‘taking care of your fragile mortal body’ thing is really getting on my nerves