#Requested!

[katsu28]

through the years

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: a few glimpses into lando's journey of being in love with his best friend's sister. (5.9k) see request here!

a/n: r is three years older than max and lando. this has been a work in progress for months and was truly so so fun to write <3

sixteen

Lando’s tucking his helmet back into its protective case when he hears someone say your name.

He straightens up like he’s been electrocuted, nearly hitting his head on the shelf above him at how fast he looks up. If he had ears like a dog, they’d be perked. 

His eyes land on you chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

See, Lando has a massive crush on you, probably since before he knew what a crush was. All he knows is that you’re a few years older, his best friend’s sister, and the most perfect person he’s ever known. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen in love with you the moment he met you at one of Max’s and his races. 

But at only sixteen (nearly seventeen) years old, did he even know what love felt like?

Not really, but if Lando was being completely honest, he imagines it was the same feeling he got whenever he climbed into a kart—thrilling, exciting, a little bit of fear that he might puke. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while though. You’ve been off at university for a year now, somewhere far off, but Max had said something (read: complained) about you being home for summer break.

Lando thinks he might be more happy about it than your own brother is. 

“Hey!” Lando calls, raising a hand in greeting. You lift your sunglasses at the sound of another voice, squinting in the bright sunlight to see who’s shouting at you now. When your eyes land on him, you smile, waving back. Lando grins, one that only grows bigger as you start to make your way over to him. 

“Looked good out there today, Lan. You’re getting pretty quick on the straights,” You say on approach.

He’s had a little bit of a growth spurt this past year, so he’s no longer craning his neck to look at you, but you’ve still got quite a bit of height on him as you reach out to ruffle his hair playfully. 

“Thanks! Have you, erm, have you been here the whole time?” Lando’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, mortifying him, but luckily you don’t seem to notice. You’re too occupied looking around the track for something, or someone. 

“Nah, I just got here, like twenty minutes ago? Mum told me to give Max a lift home.” You shrug. Lando fights the urge to let out a relieved sigh. Thank god you weren’t here to see him nearly spin out into the gravel on the last corner. That would’ve been embarrassing. “Have you seen him, by the way? I need to wring his neck.” 

A surprised honk of laughter splutters from Lando’s mouth. “What did he do now?” 

“Little shit broke one of mum’s good dinner plates and blamed it on me! S’why I’m here playing chauffeur,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Grounded during summer holidays, can you believe it? I’m basically Max’s personal shuttle, so it looks like you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me for a while. Nightmare, innit?” 

“Not really. It’d be nice to see you around more again.” 

“You’re sweet, Lan. The punishment might be worth it to see your cute face all the time.” You wink at him, pinching his cheek gently. 

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean it. You still see him as just your little brother’s best friend, still a kid. But he’s older now, more mature. His voice is starting to drop, and he’s going places in his racing career by this point. He wonders if you know he’s joining McLaren’s Young Driver Programme next year. He wonders if you’d be impressed by it. 

“Hang on. I’ve got to take this, it’s my mum. Probably demanding I stop off at the shops on the way home,” You sigh, holding up your buzzing phone. “Do me a favor, be a darling and go find my idiot brother, would you?” You answered the call before he could nod, walking a ways away to talk to your mum. 

Lando remains rooted in place, watching you pace back and forth. 

“What’re you looking at?” Max pops up next to him out of the blue, bumping his shoulder rather roughly. It doesn’t phase him though, because he’s used to Max’s antics at this point. 

Instead, he sighs. “D’you think she’d ever like me?” 

“Who?” 

Lando nods his head in your direction, looking rather wistful. Max follows his friend’s line of sight until his gaze lands on you, on the phone, looking less than pleased. 

“Are you fucking with me? Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” He asks, wrinkling his nose at Lando. Even though you’re three years older than him, Max was wildly overprotective over you. Lando shakes his head. He is most definitely serious. “Mate, that’s my sister.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“That’s disgusting.” 

Lando scoffs, giving Max a shove. “You’re disgusting.” 

“So you’re telling me that every time you’ve asked me where she’s been, what she’s been up to, it’s ‘cause you fancy her?” 

“Maybe. Yeah. I think she’s amazing.” 

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually going to throw up, oh my god.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” Lando rolls his eyes, picking up his things. 

“You’re hot for my sister, how am I being dramatic? I think I’m being quite calm about this.” 

“It’s nothing, really. She probably won't ever see me as anything but a little kid.” 

“Oh, you never know. You’re getting bigger, mate. Stacking on the height, packing on the muscle.” He fakes two punches to Lando’s torso, grunting overdramatically when Lando pushes him away with another roll of his eyes. “Soon enough you won’t be able to keep the ladies off you, ya stud.” 

“Thanks? You do know we’re still talking about your sister, right?” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, still gross.” 

“Oi, Max. Let’s go or mum’ll have my head if we don’t get home by dinner,” You grumble, reappearing behind Max and shoving him upside the head. Your gaze softens when it turns on Lando. “Bye, Lan. See you soon.”

Lando manages to get out a goodbye without his voice cracking again, thank god. He wants to go in for a hug, because part of him thinks it might lift your spirits, but knows Max would never let him hear the end of it. So he just settles for a slightly awkward wave before you turn on your heel and head for the car. 

Max rolls his eyes. Then he smiles deviously, pointing at your retreating figure with one hand and Lando with the other, before smashing them both together, all while making overexaggerated kissy noises. He seems to have forgotten his previous disgust quite easily. 

“Fuck off!” Lando hisses, flipping off his friend. 

“I’ll leave you behind, Maximillian!” You warn, not even turning around to threaten your brother. Max rolls his eyes again, but doesn't hesitate in hurrying after you so you won't leave him stranded at the track. 

Lando manages to catch your eye once as you’re pulling out of the car park and he waves again, trying but probably failing to stifle the goofy grin spreading across his face at the wave you gave him back. 

God, he’s so down bad for you. 

That year, however, the months went on, Lando found himself noticing that you came home less and less often, and not even for school breaks the following year. Max wouldn’t talk about it, but it was obvious it was somewhat of a sore subject, so Lando never pushed.

He’d always wondered what happened, but soon enough, his life became far too hectic to sit around thinking about all the what if’s and the why not’s. All he could do was hope you were doing okay. 

-------

twenty

It’s hard to believe Max is turning twenty-one.

So will Lando, later in the year, but for now he remains a very youthful looking twenty years old. 

Max invites a handful of people to a quiet dinner, nothing too flashy, nothing too fancy. Just a nice dinner with close friends and good food. His birthday sits right between race weeks, so Lando is fortunate enough to be able to carve out an evening for his best friend. 

Now he’s sitting at the end of a long table, sipping a lemon sparkling water as the first few of their friends start to trickle in. He’d arrived unfashionably early under the guise of offering to help Max iron out last minute details, set up, things like that.

In reality, the reason why he’d turned up so early was you. 

Lando doesn’t know if Max invited you, and if he did, he doesn’t know if you’d actually come. But on the off chance that you do choose to make an appearance, Lando wants to be the first one to see you. 

Naturally, he spots you the second you walk in, and he’s instantly transported back to when he was an awkward teenager, pathetically pining over his best friend’s sister with absolutely no shot.

Hell, he’s still pining over you. He thought whatever feelings he had for you would’ve faded over the years, but one look at you and everything comes rushing back. 

He thought he’d prepared himself for this, for seeing you again, but one thing that rises above all the other thoughts flooding his brain is that he’s not over you. Not by a long shot. 

He watches you make your way over to your brother and hug him. You lean in close to say something into his ear, and suddenly you’re both looking directly at him.

Lando startles, nearly spilling his drink, but he manages to compose himself quickly. That swoopy feeling he used to get whenever you made your way over to him is back in full swing again. He scrambles to his feet. 

“Hey, Lan!” You greet him keenly, wrapping him in a warm hug. Your perfume washes over him as you do, and he fights the urge to sigh happily. You still wear the same one you always did. He remembers because he’d more or less conditioned himself to associate the nice scent with you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Lando chuckles breathlessly, praying you’re not able to feel how fast his heart is beating through his shirt. “Too long.” 

You pull away, holding him at arms’ length, studying him with bright eyes. “You’re taller than me now.” 

“I’d hope so. M’not sixteen anymore.” 

“No, you’re not. You look good though, ” You say. You look like you mean it truthfully. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Been better, but I’m…getting by, all things considered.” You shrug, sliding into the chair next to him.

Both of you swing sideways to face each other at the same time, knees knocking into each other as you do. You share an apologetic smile. Your hand blankets his where it rests on the table, squeezing a few times as your eyes light up with excitement. 

You aren’t aware of just how much that one little move affects Lando. 

“But what about you, McLaren’s newest Formula One driver? That’s so amazing. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”  

He’s heard the compliment loads during his rookie year, but hearing it come from you makes his cheeks flush pink. He can feel the comfort of your words spreading from his face into his chest, tendrils of warmth wrapping around his rib cage. You’re proud of him, and it feels like he’s just won the world championship. 

“Thank you,” He squeaks. 

“I always knew you’d do great things.” 

“You’ve been keeping up with my career?” 

“‘Course I have,” You say warmly, nodding like it’s obvious. “It’s not everyday you can say you’ve known one of the up and coming talents of Formula 1 since you were kids.” 

“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” 

“You, yeah. Me…well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure things out.” 

“You’re doing the best you can, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” 

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Lan. I needed to hear that.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you, and Lando feels the need to break it. 

“Y’know, I didn't know if you’d come. Since…y’know, whatever’s been going on all this time.” He doesn’t mean to prod, doesn’t mean it as anything other than him drawing a huge blank about why you haven’t been around. 

Your expression still grows somber, brows creasing ever so slightly. “Max hasn’t told you anything?” 

“Seemed like a sore subject, so I never pushed.” 

“You must have a lot of questions then.” You murmur, tracing an idle finger over the pristine white table cloth. “About why I’ve been basically nonexistent for years.” 

“I don't need to know. You’re here now, that's all that matters.” 

“Y’know, you’ve always been so thoughtful, Lando. When we were all kids and Max was being…well, Max, you were always looking out for me, even though you didn’t have to.” 

“I cared about you. Still do.” 

It’s true. Lando cares about you in more ways than one, in more ways than just your little brother’s best friend should, but it isn’t something that he can help. You’ve still got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“So sweet.” You smile, squeezing his hand appreciatively, and Lando feels like he’s just been shown a new purpose. He wants to be the one to make you smile like this all the time, something he’s known in his heart for years. “So, tell me more about you. What’s it like in the big leagues?” 

You wind up spending all night glued to each other’s side, filling one another in on what’s been going on in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Granted, it’s a bit more of him doing most of the talking with you on the listening end, but he gets the sense you’d rather have it that way. 

He’ll gladly talk for hours if it meant you looking at him with the pride in your eyes you’ve had the whole night. 

Eventually, the party rolls to an end, as all good nights unfortunately do. Lando wants to stay here, stay with you, but he can’t. He’s got an early morning and a day full of training tomorrow, so he’ll settle for walking you to your car after you’ve both said goodbye to Max. 

You’ve got your arm looped through his as you make your way out of the restaurant with the rest of the dinner guests. 

“This one’s me.” You jut your chin at the car coming up. If Lando isn’t mistaken, you almost sound kind of sad, but maybe he’s just looking too much into things because he doesn't want to leave. You leave his side, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Thank you for keeping me company all night, Lando. It was really nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise. I’ve…” He trails off into an airy chuckle, shoulders creeping towards his shoulders instinctively. For a moment, he wonders if he should even say anything. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. Lando feels his chest tighten at the sincerity in your tone. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck in a hug and suddenly he’s just about ready to melt as his arms slide around you to return the embrace. 

He isn’t expecting your lips against his cheek, or the way they linger a little longer than to be expected before you step away again. Heat blooms where you kiss him, zipping through his veins like the thrill of pushing the highest speed down the home straight towards the checkered flag. 

“Don’t forget about me when you get to be a big hot shot in the racing world,” You say, only slightly teasing. 

“Don’t think I could.” 

He watches you get into your car and drive away, hands in his pockets, wishing he was brave enough to tell you how he feels about you. Some other time, maybe. One day he’ll muster up the confidence to say something. 

-------

twenty four

No matter how many times Lando comes home to race at Silverstone, the feeling never goes away.

A mix of joy, pride, the unmistakable vice-like grip of anxiety. Lando is excited, no doubt, but all he wants to do is make his home crowd proud. His family is here, his friends are here. Everyone is counting on him to do something amazing.

He’s got a hundred things to do before he has to head down to the garage to gear up, a methodical mental checklist to get through in not a lot of time.

Buzzing with nervous energy, he paces the top level of the motorhome, amping himself up while also trying to calm himself down. He’s barely managed to eat anything all day, as evident by the basically untouched chicken wrap sitting on the table next to him. 

Sure, he’s raced at Silverstone before, but this is the first year he actually has a shot at winning the whole thing. The car has proved to be a speed demon, and he’s been killing it this season, but neither of those help his nerves. 

It makes his stomach twist more than anything. It’s one thing to not win because he doesn't have the facilities to do it, it's entirely worse to know he can win and still let everyone down. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Lando Norris.” 

He freezes at the unexpected voice. Your voice.

His mind flashes back to the last time he saw you, at Max’s birthday party. How you talked all night, and kissed him on the cheek before you parted ways. 

It’s been three years since then, and you’ve stayed in close touch with each other, but you haven’t seen each other in person since that night. It isn’t either of your faults—life got in the way and neither of yours lined up. Nonetheless, he’s grown closer to you these past few years than he ever has, which definitely doesn’t help the massive crush he still has on you. 

Part of him thinks he really needs to move on—he’s been in love with you for so many years he doesn’t even remember the exact number, but his feelings remain the same. Any relationship he’s tried to have, just to see if he could ever love someone else, has never lasted.

Lando thinks he might be stuck on you his whole life, if the entirety of his teenage years and first few of his young adult years have been any indication. 

He’s very prone to wanting things he can’t have, it seems. 

Lando gives his head a shake because it couldn’t be you. You couldn’t be here, because last he heard from Max, you were somewhere out of the country on a work trip and wouldn’t be able to make it to Silverstone for the race. It’s a bummer for sure, but Lando knows you would've come if you could. Max told him you sounded downright upset about it on your check in call earlier in the week to break the news. 

He turns slowly, hesitantly. Hopefully. His fingers tighten on the water bottle he’s got clutched in his hands. 

There you are, looking back at him like something straight out of his dreams. 

You’re older now, as he is too, but there’s something different about you. About how you hold yourself. Like you've finally settled into the person you were meant to be. It isn’t something he could’ve clocked in on through texts and grainy video calls, but he sees it now, clear as day. 

“Hi.” 

“You’re here,” He breathes, disbelieving. He isn’t able to stop himself from rushing forward, bringing you into a very tight, very excited hug that lifts you off your feet.

You let out a surprised noise at his enthusiasm, barely managing to hook an arm over around his shoulders so you wouldn’t go flailing as he spins you around.

He puts you down soon after, still beaming as he takes you in. “How are you here? I thought—Max said you were on a work trip!” 

“I asked him to keep it a secret,” You chuckle, spreading a palm across his chest to steady yourself. “Wanted to surprise you for your home race. Hope that’s okay?” 

“More than okay! It’s so good to see you again,” He insists, folding you into another, albeit much quicker hug. He holds you at arm's length right after. “You look really good.” 

“I feel good,” You say sincerely. “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this whole life thing.” 

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you for pushing through, sticking it out,” Lando murmurs, just as genuine. There’s nothing better than seeing you finally find a good place, happy with where you are and what you’re doing. It’s all he’s ever wanted for you. 

“Thank you. But oh my god, look at you!” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. You pinch his cheeks the same way you used to do, but the way you’re looking at him feels much different than before.

There’s something that isn’t quite the same, like something about what you think of him has changed. The thought burrows its way deeper into his brain when one hand slides down to his chest for a few beats.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit again, haven’t you?” 

He laughs, a little high pitched and a little breathless. “Yeah well, you know what they say about second puberty.” 

“Still got the same cute laugh though.” You smile at him brightly, and it's like the sun has just poked its way through the dreary British fog for the first time in ages. His heart does an involuntary tap dance against his ribcage. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry if I, like, disturbed your pre-race rituals or anything, I just wanted to pop in and say hi before things get crazy.” 

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I think I needed to see a familiar face. Between you and me, I’m kinda freaking out.” 

“Oh, Lan,” You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Hope so.” 

“You will,” You insist firmly. “Don’t think about the people, don’t think about the crowd. Just trust your gut, and drive like hell.” 

Lando didn’t know it before, but your words are exactly the thing he needs right now. He sighs deeply, letting his shoulders relax just the slightest bit. 

“Anyways, I better go. Max is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.” 

He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Yeah, I should—I probably need to get going as well.” 

“Good luck, be safe, all that. I’ll be the loudest one cheering you on.” 

Lando hears himself call out your name when you’re a few steps away from the door. You turn back to him, and he knows this is the moment. He’s about to do something he’s never had the balls to do before, never in the nine years he’s been in love with you. Only today, right here, he’s never felt more sure of himself. 

He’s trusting his gut. 

“Would you wanna grab a drink tonight? Dinner too, if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah, ‘course! I’ll text my brother, see if he’s free.” 

“No,” He blurts. You arch a surprised brow at his sudden outburst. “Sorry, I just—I meant like, maybe just the two of us.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments, and it feels like the longest couple seconds of his life. But then you nod, breaking into a big grin. “I’d really like that.”

Lando doesn’t want to get his hopes up in fear of possibly jinxing it, but it feels like maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance with you. After all these years, he’s no longer just a little kid to you, no longer just your little brother’s best friend.

The thought of that pumps him up better than a race in front of his home crowd ever could.

-------

twenty five

He’s done it. 

Lando's just won in Abu Dhabi, gotten his fourth win of his career—his fourth win of the season. McLaren has just won the constructor’s championship for the first time in twenty six years, and Lando’s been an instrumental part in making it happen. 

The moment he steps out onto the front of the car, hears the crowd cheering for him, he can barely even believe it. It doesn’t feel real at all. 

He wants to find you. He knows you’re here somewhere, probably with his family in the garage. He also knows he doesn’t have the time to find you, not until after he’s taken care of his post race duties. 

Lando doesn't see you until he returns to the pit lane in front of the McLaren garage.

The whole team is gathered there, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. He can feel the energy buzzing through the atmosphere, the pure excitement and joy of a long awaited championship not only for everyone here, but the whole team of papaya back at the factory too. 

This is their time as much as it is his, if not even more. They’re the reason he’s able to live this dream every single day, and for that, he’ll never be able to say enough thank yous. 

Instead, he’ll work even harder next season, keep pushing and honing his craft until he’s able to truly show his gratitude towards them. 

But for now, he’ll celebrate. After a long, grueling (but fulfilling) season, he’s earned that. 

He breaks into a jog towards the huddle, breaking into a face-splitting grin as he jumps into the team celebrations happily. Person after person clap him on the back on his way to his place beside the giant papaya sign, even after the team photo is taken and he gets doused by champagne from all sides. 

Lando feels like a million bucks. This feeling has been a long time coming, a long time needed. If he could bottle it up and save it forever, he would. 

There’s only one thing that could make this moment even better. 

He turns to the crowd behind the barriers, searching, searching, searching for his loved ones until— 

There you are, standing with his family just as he’d thought you’d be, cheering so hard he thinks you might even be crying. 

Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. You’ve both been busy the past few weeks, him with this triple header and you with your job. You’d barely made it to this race, but he’s happy you’re here. Even happier you were here to see him win. 

He makes his way towards you all, doling out hugs to everyone, not able to wipe the smile from his face as he chats with each of them. 

His parents, his sister, and finally…you. 

You’re beaming just as big as he is when he stops in front of you, flinging your arms around his neck in the tightest hug. He lets out a sigh of content, lifting you off your feet a bit in a hug just as tight, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does so. 

“Hi, baby,” He breathes, running his hands down from your shoulders to your forearms as soon as he puts you down again. “What’d you think?” 

“What do I think?” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. “I think you did amazing! I think I’ve cried, like, four times already since the race ended, honestly.” 

He laughs, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “I made you cry?” 

“Yeah, you made me cry, you muppet! I’m so fucking proud of you,” You tell him, sounding nothing but truly sincere. There’s tears in your eyes again, happy tears for him, and he feels a surge of adoration bloom in his chest. “Congratulations, Lan. You’re destined for so much greatness, I know it.” 

He’s sweaty, sticky, and doused in champagne, but he still feels on top of the world at the joy in your eyes.

“I love you,” He blurts. He couldn’t have stopped the words spilling from his mouth even if he tried. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s knowing there’s no better time than the present, but it’s out there now. The past five months you’ve been dating have been absolutely mint, but Lando doesn’t think he could’ve gone another moment without telling you. 

You let out a watery sort of chuckle, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

You’ve kissed before—a lot, actually—but this one feels different. Better. The giant secret that he’s been holding in from you for years and years is finally out, and it’s like a weight lifted off his chest. 

“I love you too, Lan,” You murmur, words pressed against his lips like they're something reserved only for him. “God, I love you.” 

There goes his heart right then, the last piece of his heart that he’d saved for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. The last piece of his heart that belonged to him now belongs to you, and in this moment, you’ve got all of it. 

All of Lando’s heart is now yours. 

Lando didn’t think this day could get any better, but now there’s this. The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been in love with since you were both kids, finally loves him back.

He’s not sure what heaven is like, but Lando imagines it might be something like this.

Here, under the Abu Dhabi sky, he’s gotten the championship, he’s finally gotten his girl. To him, there’s nothing better than it. 

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[wouldtheyfuck]

[minhosimthings]

imagine … feeding jake grapes while on a picnic together … or maybe just watching a movie, snuggled up at home… you bring up smth about how you used to peel grapes with your teeth growing up and challenge him to see who can do it the best. but someway somehow, things get heated, and he starts teasing abt you having an oral fixation after you peeled the grape better than him, ofc ;), and he decides to prove you wrong by showing you just how skilled his mouth can really be- 🧎‍♀️

This has been marinating in my asks for so long istg (i think since 2023), so i wrote this extremely quickly, and im so sorry i couldnt make it a full fic annonie! But, as always, enjoy this quick dumb blurb on mine (i know its really short BUT BEAR WITH ME)

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of food (grapes), swearing, use of nickname 'doll' NOT PROOFREAD (forgive me)

“Now that—” Jake slumped back against the tree, “—is definitely something you learnt at Hogwarts, you beautiful witch.”

You threw your head back as your entire body convulsed with laughter, bringing a goofy smile to Jake’s face as he realized how stupid his silly joke was. The sun was still peeking out from the horizon, bathing the skies in a shampoo of oranges and pinks. The soft spring breeze pushed Jake's hair back, prompting his body to relax into the soft grass which he sat upon. The checkered blanket which you had brought was sitting peacefully on a side, as you had decided that the grass was far more comfy. In front of you lay a basket filled with cotton-candy grapes.

“How are you even getting them to stay in your hands?” Jake whined, picking up a grape which happily slipped out his finger. You stifled a giggle.

“Just watch and learn babe.” You said with the air of a sensei, “watch and learn.”

You picked up a nicely rounded grape from the basket, pretending to observe its dimensions like a professor before you brought it to your mouth. Jake watched in pure awe as your teeth easily managed to pull off the slimy green outer layer, leaving the fresh fruit behind. You peeled one end, then the other, and the last strip went onto your tongue as you proudly showed off the skin-less grape to your boyfriend. 

“Yep.” Jake sighed, “Witch material.”

“But the hot kind right?” You laughed, popping the grape into your mouth, “You’re just jealous I could peel more grapes than you could.”

“Well, you practice it throughout your childhood!” Jake defended himself. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s alright baby.” You put on a cheeky smile, before checking your watch. The sun was now fully below the horizon and nighttime was falling, “Some of us just weren't born for grape peeling.” You laughed at Jake's scowl.

“Home then?” You said, picking up the basket.

“Yep.” Jake replied with a pop of his lips, before helping you pack up.

……………………………………………………………………

"Ohh Jake, more–please I need you," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have his tongue buried as deep as possible. Apparently, the bragging rights of the grape-peeling competition didn't sit well with him, especially when you looked so sexy, peeling them. He had you pushed against the bedroom door as soon as you had changed into your pajamas, and now—he was devouring you like a starved man.

He took his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slid under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. Your fingers tightened on his hair and his lips stopped coordinating with your pulsing cunt. Jake pulled away to look up at you and smirk.

He was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, the buttons of his shirt—once done up to near his neck, now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his skin underneath.

“Do I win the competition now, doll?” The lowered tone of voice Jake was using sent you swimming in a pool of insanity. And it wasn't like it was any different for him. Your willing pussy throbbing for his tongue and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.

Before you could respond to his words however, his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy. 

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, bucking your hips at his face–on instinct, overwhelmed by the way Jake was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation.

A sort of whimpering scream escaped you as you began to gasp for air, far too fucked out, just by Jake’s persistent tongue. Everything was getting hazy, and soon, your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull. Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Jake, I’m so close oh f-fuck, I’m–” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high. His lips completely wrapped as he suckles and continues to flick where you’re most sensitive, working you through your orgasm.

More arousal poured from you, and Jake was quick to lap it up. You grabbed his hair tighter, driving your hips into his face at a ravenous pace—practically fucking his face—and then it hit you again. Eyes rolled to the back of your head as your back arched in an awkward angle, your orgasm hits you hard. It’s without warning, heart-pounding, with a certain addiction—as sweet as cotton candy grapes.

Dividers by the talented @drizztdohurtin

[luthqrs]

"What?" "You, at a festival? With your face painted? Dancin', wavin' your hands in the air like you just don't care?!" CARLA CONNOR and LISA SWAIN in CORONATION STREET ↝ 04.11.2024

+ bonus live lisa reaction

[violetmuses]

Tyler Owens + Female Reader 🌪

@amethyst-loves-bucky 🏷

======

2024

“Ty, what are you doing?” After taking your much-needed shower, you've joined Tyler in the kitchen for breakfast. No work this time around.

“Cooking.” He laughed while shirtless. Even his cowboy hat waited in the corner.

“Don't burn my place down.” You rolled both eyes as bacon sizzled.

“Yes, Ma'am!” While Tyler pulled his Southern accent, you jumped when he smacked your ass in return.

This is what marriage can look like.

[adornedwithlight]

Blues: Butterfly lights

Please like, reblog and credit when you use my dividers!

(Requested by 🧋-Anon)

[glittering-moonlillie]

Rough Sketches (Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader)

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: Very suggestive, mild language

Summary: You knew all along that it was a bad idea to bring that dreaded sketchbook to his house, so why were you surprised to find out that things, indeed, went wrong.

The sounds of your 2B pencil hitting the smooth, white paper filled the silence of the wolf gray room. You started with a circle which, with a few more lines, easily transformed into a diamond shaped face. Next was the pointed nose along with the ears and neck, all of which were drawn with masterful precision. 

The eyes were always your favorite to draw; they were a deep and lively forest shade that made you melt whenever they came into contact with your own.  In this drawing specifically, his eyes were half lidded and showing only a sliver of green, his lips etched into a seductive smirk.

After a few more minutes, you were able to look down at the image of your boyfriend, Damian - shirtless, toned, and looking like he might chain you to his bed if you gave your consent. You held the notebook close to your chest and squealed, face tinted with both embarrassment and ardor.

You were an artist at heart, something that you and Damian bonded over the moment you two met. While Damian drew more realistically, focusing on actual details rather than abstracts, you preferred a more characterized style that personified a person’s personality. It lies between realism and cartoonism. People were always your favorite things to draw. There was always something satisfying about being able to perfectly capture a person with simple lines and colors. 

Over the time span of knowing one another, he quickly became your muse, the person you wanted to practice drawing over and over, and as your feelings for him increased so did your desire to get every single detail of him correctly. This desire continued the day he asked you to be his beloved girlfriend. 

Innocent drawings of his sharp eyes and cheshire smile morphed into something more risque, something dirtier. There were an array of pages with nothing but a shirtless Damian solely based on your secret desire for him to dominate you. 

For that reason, the small art collection was hidden away under the folds of your bed, only taken out during the darkest of nights when you got lonely enough. You were too embarrassed to ever reveal them in the light of day, and you were sure you would die if Damian ever uncovered the sketchbook. If Damian ever did see how perverted you really were, he would undoubtedly break up with you. After a string of terrible breakups, you weren’t sure if you could handle another, especially with the son Bruce Wayne. 

So it was a wonder why you left the sketchbook in your small night bag while you got ready to stay over at his house. It was a lapse of judgment, really, a small misstep that would certainly lead to disaster if you weren’t careful enough. And yet, there was a strong guiding force that  compelled you to take it out and start doodling.  After all, Damian was out on patrol and he said he would be back at 11:15 precisely. It was only 10:30 now, you had time to indulge in mindless fantasy, right? 

Your eyes traveled back down to your newest sketch, your brain trying to decide on whether or not you were disgusted with yourself or if you should be pleased. The drawing itself seemed alright, the anatomy was near perfect but the actual content…well…It felt sinful, like drinking too much bubbly soda that left a deep hole in your stomach and spoiled your dinner. 

As you glared down at your own creation, surgically dissecting the morality of drawing your boyfriend as often as you did (along with the few lude ones) when the window towards the front left of the room began to slide open. You could only watch like a deer in the scrutinizing gaze of a car’s headlights as Damian pulled himself through the small opening. 

“Beloved, I’m home.” He said, an unusual goofy smile plastered on his face. “Dick let me come home early and so I was able to pick up some food for us.”

Any profanity that you had been taught up till now was used at this exact moment to curse anything and everything: Your luck, the cruel gods, Dick Grayson, and most of all, yourself. You should have thrown the sketchbook into the fireplace in the living room once you realized you brought it - or, even better, you should have never created it in the first place.

 You shoved the indecent drawings underneath the dark green sheets.  “T-that’s…wonderful…” You sighed, breath shaky. Any slight oddity in your behavior could lead to Damian’s detective skills to be triggered. “Welcome home, my love!”

You stared at him, doing your best to imitate a calm and collected smile. Damian stared back, grin slowly shifting into something more curious. He took off his mask, tossing it onto his (frustratingly) organized mahogany desk and took a few steps closer to the bed. The food was left on the desk as well, the enticing aroma wafting over and tickling your nose. 

“Wh-what’s up?” You laughed half heartedly, voice trailing off as soon as the laughter escaped your throat. Did he have to tower over you like this -  like a cat about to pounce on his prey? 

“Nothing. I think…I think I just like the idea of coming home to you on my bed like this.” He plopped down onto the bed next to you, part of his darkened cape folding onto your legs. “That and you are acting quite peculiar.”

Lord almighty. 

“O-Oh? I am?” You asked, squirming towards the sketchbook, praying to any demon that would hear you that he would not notice its presence. Your hands crawled towards the book until it covered the huge DAMIAN WAYNE, MY BELOVED label attached to the front. 

Despite your pleas, it seemed that fate had something else hidden up its mischievous sleeves. 

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he scanned your movements until they landed on the haphazardly partially covered book. “Ah, you were drawing. I have never seen that cover before, can I look at it?”

Every nerve in your body seemed to be doused in gasoline fluid, only for him to kindly light a match and toss it, making everything burn inside and out. The blazing sensation rose to your cheeks and clogged your throat until it burned. Damian’s eyes continued to pierce straight through your soul and you realized the longer you took to respond, the more skeptical he will become. 

“Sketchbook? Right, yes, I was drawing while waiting for you to get home. Totally normal, totally fine, not something you would really be interested in.” With hasty hands, you pulled the pad close to your chest carefully so as to not expose the embarrassing label, your arms acting like a steel gate protecting glinting jewels from tempted dragons. 

His lips quirked into a frown and he, with minimal effort, raised a singular eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, Habibti. I always love seeing your art.” 

“I-I really don’t think you would want to see it. I mean, the sketches are really rough and it might melt your eyes off and your eyes are too pretty to be melted.” You exclaimed. 

Damian’s nose scrunched and it was at this moment you realized he did not believe you in the slightest. Unaffected by your behavior though, Damian reached for the coveted drawings swiftly, forcing you to jump off the bed and backpedal to the center of the room. 

“Beloved, this is nonsense. Why can’t I see your drawings?” Like a panther, Damian stalked his way towards you slowly yet purposefully. 

“Because!”

“Because…?”

He stepped closer, making him an arm’s reach away. Close enough to feel the irritation building up inside him. 

“Because I…” You drawed out the vowel. “I want to keep it private..?” It was a lie and you both knew it. Sharing art together was one of your guys’ main forms of quality time and you have never turned down the opportunity to do so. It was a quiet intimacy that allowed the other to see how you viewed the world and there was nothing you loved more.

There was a brief pause, echoing silence filling the room as the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. It was at that moment, the second Damian’s lips twitched into a tenuous smirk, that you realized you began a competition you already lost. “Forgive me for this, alright Beloved?”

Damian extended his arm and attempted to grab the sketchbook again, resulting in the most terrifying game of tug of war you had ever participated in. Every centimeter of leverage you gained, Damian was there to pull back another 5 inches. You did your best to pull the drawings out of your boyfriend’s grasp but there was no way you could win in a tugging match with one of Gotham’s strongest protectors. 

With one harsh tug, you ended up falling on the carpeted floor of the room, hands empty. Damian’s frame towered over you, one hand trapping you under him and the other holding the sketchbook in his hands. A dangerous smile was plastered on his face. 

He pulled away, resting some of his weight on your lower abdomen and rendering you immobile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a certain way with Damian on top of you like this. His smirks were always rugged and somewhat sinister in tone, but now, with him on top of you, it felt like electricity shooting through your body and down between your thighs.

He scanned the front of the small binder and chuckled upon seeing the cover. “I see why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, I suppose. A sketchbook with nothing but me? Habibti, I’m flattered.”

You writhed, you pleaded, you begged - but Damian, with a small hum, began to flip through the pages. He would do anything to inflate his already bolstering confidence. With each flip, you counted down the remaining seconds you had of being his girlfriend. Seconds felt like an epoch and worse, you were powerless to do anything. 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, Habibti, these are wonderf-”

Damian’s voice waned as he flipped the next page; you could feel the pressure of his body settling, juxtaposed with his slight gaping mouth, curious eyes, and red tinted ears. Another shiver danced along your spine, like a ghost's touch, as he connected his eyes with yours. The intense green pigment left you feeling dizzy yet paralyzed with need, forcing you to close your eyes lest you might fall for him deeper. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare. The only comforting noise was the slight ringing in your ears from the loud silence.

“I knew you would think I was disgusting…” You muttered. 

Damian shook his head, eyes crinkling from the accusation.“What? No no…it’s not that, beloved. This isn’t disgusting in the slightest.” He said. “I was just a little surprised, my love.”

With a sigh, Damian pulled your dazed form into his arms and picked you up, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down on the covers. He pressed his lips to your temple delicately. “I want to show you something.”

He inched away with a whispered laugh. Damian lowered himself to the ground and pulled out what seemed to be a hidden box of drawing supplies and papers. 

“I wanted to show you this for a while, Habibti but a part of me was unsure how you would react.” He tugged out a similar looking sketchbook to yours. The cover was scuffed and darkened with age and each paper spilled out, begging for release. Damian stood back up and lightly kicked the box into place under the bed. 

Damian’s hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He held the mess of papers in front of you and as he pressed loving kisses along your exposed neck, he murmured a soft “Look through it.” 

You hesitantly opened the cover and the first image you see is a beautiful picture of you drawn with the loving intricacy of a photograph. Splashes of your favorite color decorated the outline of the portrait and you could discern the collar of the outfit Damian loved to see you wear. The next few pages were all similar to the first with the same picturesque quality; every portrait featured you smiling, flaws and all. 

Damian’s arms wrapped around you tighter, trapping you against him. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, thumping against your back. His fingers played with your hair, twirling it into delicate curls. The way you were positioned, Damian’s thigh was directly in between your own, and you hated the urge you had to start rubbing yourself against him. 

As you flipped the next page, your vision is suddenly filled with drawings of you clothless, sprawled out and blushing. Damian had never seen you naked and yet every curve felt like looking in a silver lined mirror. Your breathing hitched. 

“I think you have the most gorgeous body in the world,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to worship your body fully but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that or not…”

His finger trailed down your neck to the opening of your shirt, leaving a fiery trail of butterflies in its wake and teasingly playing with the buttons. “I didn’t realize you needed me this badly, Beloved…” He whispered in your ear. 

“D-Damian…”

You shifted around, body suddenly searching - yearning - for something, but you weren’t sure what. It was an exuberant, even wanton, anticipation; a breathless pining that consumed every ounce of your being until your mind became clouded with need. Any previous inhibition you had quickly drifted away. 

There was some more shuffling of papers and yet another soft chuckle emanated. “Darling, if you wanted to know how big I was, you could have just asked.”

He held up another picture from your sketchbook, one where you attempted to draw a fully nude picture of Damian that ended up being scrapped, the only remnant being the question How big even is he? 5, 6 inches maybe? 

Instead of being embarrassed by this though, the comment only furthered your lack of restraint, and you had to slowly rock yourself back and forth against Damian’s thigh to assuage the increasingly empty pit deep within you. Damian’s lips pressed against your neck once more, surely leaving marks to remember in the morning. 

A small whimper escaped your mouth, his hands wandering up further until they palmed your chest. You allowed yourself to move just a bit faster, only for Damian’s hands to trail back down and tightly grab your hips, forcing you to remain still. 

“Damian, what the hell!” You whined. 

“Patience, my love. If you want me to fuck you then you have to calm down, alright?” He turned you around so that you were now face to face and kissed you gently. “This is our first time after all, I want to do it right.”

He continued to press tortuous open-mouthed kisses down your body, unbuttoning your blouse along the way. “You are so beautiful…” He murmured against your skin. 

Your back arched from the hint of pleasure feasting your body, picking away at every last bit of sanity until nothing remained. The comfortable clothes you wore suddenly felt too tight and restricting to breathe.

He pushed you onto the bed so your back was flush against the covers, his frame looming over you, and from the tent of his black pants, you could tell that your estimation of five to six inches was far off. 

“Damian…I need you…” You panted. “Please”

“And you will have me, Y/n.” He assured, the loving smile he only showed you in full view. “But for right now, I just want you to stay still and be good for me, alright?”

So as some of you may seen, I don't have as much experience with writing heavy spicy stuff, so I know that this is probably really bad. But! That's okay! Because one day I am going to look back at cringe, and that will just be a sign of my improvement! Also, I wasn't sure how to end it so...uh...OPEN ENDING-

[nightmarereverie]

hiya! do you think you could pull iron bundle figure transparents? its this little guy-

can't find good pngs :(

Sorry for the wait, I just woke up, but regardless: Aye-aye Cap'n! One set of spooky future Delibird figurine pngs!

(If you wanted something else, please let me know, so I can correct it to the best of my abilities — whether it be a private message or another ask, thanks for requesting!) ✿༉‧₊˚.

[kozumesphone]

hi! your writing style is so cute!!! <3

could I request for a jason x sister!reader fluff? maybe a holiday theme oneshot at camp ft. leo's silly little dialogues of course 💞

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ LIKE WE JUST MET .ᐟ

⤷ platonic!multiple x daughter of zeus!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . jason grace’s sister!reader and tooth rotting fluff ft. jason (ofc), leo and his adorable dialogues, just fluff basically, christmas party, and a fun day out for the demigods. ft. y/n saying a few words here and there in french, princess passenger!leo again <3, sugar crashed!leo, matching lightning mcqueen pjs for y/n & jace. alsoalso jason’s weatherman nickname inspired by this post.

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n — your name | n/n — nickname | r/n — random name | ‘merde’: shit | ‘mon amour’: my love

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.5k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . uhajshwkjs this request is everything! tysm anon, bc I miss winter sm 😭 this was the perfect way to get over my summer depression fr <3 hope you like it!

“rise and shine, my lovely buffalos!” clarisse’s voice rang loudly.

“stop, no,” jason groaned from the opposite side of the room, grabbing a pillow to cover his ears.

“I love you, but it’s christmas eve. let us sleep in, clarisse! even jace wants to!” I yelled.

I cracked an eye open, and sunlight filtered through the now-open door as clarisse walked in, her hand intertwined with a sleepy chris’.

“oh, the light, i’m going to go blind, merde-” I rambled and picked up a pillow, throwing it in the general area of the cabin’s door. a thwap sounded as clarisse caught the pillow before it maimed chris.

“man, wake up, where’s the christmas cheer, yeah?” chris said, extremely unenthusiastically.

“you’re half asleep, dude. let me sleep,” jason mumbled.

“yeah, we all know clarisse dragged you here-” suddenly, my blanket was yanked off my body as I muttered a string of curse words. “nooooooo, my lovely and warm blanket-”

a squeal sounded from jason’s side of the room and I sat up on my bed to see him blanket-less as well. satisfied that I wasn’t the only one who was being annoyed by the two lovebirds, I grinned.

“you know, this is the first time you didn’t wake up the second your clock hit 5 in the morning,” I chuckled at jason.

before he could reply, clarisse started ordering us around. “get out of your pyjamas and come around to the dining pavillion for breakfast at 8.”

she glanced at jason’s and mine matching lightning mcqueen pyjamas, and grinned. chris and her walked out, leaving the door open.

“at least close the door,” I mumbled.

we disappeared into our sides of the room to get ready, and met up outside the cabin in 20 minutes.

it was absolutely serene to wake up to an almost-empty camp as it was snowing, with the harpies asleep. a butterfly landed on jason’s nose and I smiled. in that moment, it felt like nothing could disrupt the harmony of the world-

“HEY, WEATHERMAN! oh hello, lovely n/n,” leo skidded to a stop in front of us and grinned.

“morning, princess,” I said. leo and I did our handshake, as jason was still preoccupied with the butterfly.

“dude, how did you not wake up at 5? did your alarm malfunction? I can fix it for ya,” leo commented, looking at jason.

“what, i’m not allowed to wake up late?” he rolled his eyes, and started walking towards breakfast. leo and I followed him, talking about our prank war against the stoll twins and the general ongoings of camp half-blood.

we all take our seats at the hermes cabin’s table since chiron decided we should just sit at the same table because we’re only 40-ish campers, as compared to the usual 150 or more.

jason talks with clarisse for a while as leo and I engage in conversation with connor and travis, as we wait for the food. when everything we could ever want for breakfast turns up in our plates, we collectively get up and make a line to offer some food to the gods. I drop in a portion of my french fries and some vegetables I didn’t want.

“good luck receiving burnt vegetables, my dudes on olympus,” leo said, looking at me dropping some broccoli into the pyre, making me roll my eyes.

as we ate, chiron walked trotted in and took his seat at the head of the table, as mr. d echoed his actions on the other side.

“merry christmas eve, kids,” chiron said. “we have an announcement to make.”

we stopped talking between ourselves and turned towards chiron.

“as you all know, most of our campers have left camp to visit their families for the winter,” chiron said, as we all nodded along.

“and in lieu of the small number of you left in camp, we wanted to let you know that we are giving you pesky kids permission to have a ‘party’ for christmas.” mr. d continued. “and as a bonus, for gods know what reason, chiron asked to send any four of you to the mortal world to buy some decorations, or whatever, and anything else you might need.”

chatter broke out at the news of camp’s first ever christmas party.

“no alcoholic drinks will be permitted, unfortunately,” mr. d remarked sadly, which no one bothered to hear.

by the end of breakfast, we were all talking about the things we’d need for the party, and I began making a list. after an hour of begging, chiron decided that jason, leo, travis, and I (or as mr. d called us: “lee, jackson, tyler, and r/n”) could go to buy decorations and food ingredients. he gave us a few american dollars, and told us to eat something with any remaining money. he also pulled jason and me aside, asking us to look after the other two.

we piled into the camp car with travis driving, and leo beside him. ever the passenger princess, he put on his sunglasses, turned up the radio, and started singing to some pop music.

in about half an hour, we reached a store called 7-eleven (“but why would you name a shopping centre in numbers?” leo had asked us the last time we’d been there) and walked into the store, the sound of the bell resonating behind us.

we split into each of the four aisles for food, use-and-throw cutlery, decorations, and board & card games.

I finished picking out the decorations first and met up with jason, who got lots of food, near the cashier.

“ooh, percy, hazel and nico would’ve loved the cocoa and marshmallows,” I said to jason, peeping into his basket.

“yeah. and frank, will and annie would’ve loved to help you put up all those streamers and everything,” he said.

I realised that it was the first time we were spending christmas without them.

“why do you guys look like someone ran over your favourite stuffed toy? it’s christmas eve, guys! cheer up!” travis said, slapping jason’s back.

leo joined us too, suddenly smacking my shoulder as well, earning himself a glare from jason.

jason and I scanned travis and leo’s baskets to make sure they didn’t get anything extra. satisfied, jason grabbed all four baskets and made small talk with the cashier about a football game till the billing finished.

“shotgun!” leo called, as soon as we got our receipt, and he ran away along with travis to get into the car. I chuckled and took two of the four bags from jason.

from the store, we drove to a cafe for some coffee and bagels before getting back to camp.

timeskip

by half past 10, the hecate, tyche, hebe, hypnos, hera, poseidon, and hephaestus cabins had all the decorations set up, while the athena, demeter, nike, iris, and hades cabins whipped up the foods. the remaining cabins (ares, apollo, artemis, zeus, hermes, nemesis, aphrodite, and dionysus) set up the various games and logs for the campfire. chiron and mr. d chopped and dragged a tree from the woods to decorate.

we began settling down in a circle around the campfire with the decorated and well-lit christmas tree to one side. the apollo kids began singing, and the hermes kids put on their own version of a musical they called ‘hamilton’.

games were played and christmas carols were sung until we felt sleepy, and the chirping of the crickets increased. I was on my fourth cup of hot chocolate (jason said it wasn’t healthy, but whatever) and fifth packet of mini marshmallows, while leo was… passed out beside me from way more than just five cups of hot chocolate and lots of candy. typical leo valdez sugar crash.

“ay, mon amour,” I laughed at him.

beside me, jason was smiling warmly at the fire. his face was glowing in the harsh light of the campfire, making him look every part thalia’s brother.

I was a few months younger than jason, but I was at camp before he stumbled in. thalia was almost like my blood sister, always taking care of me. at this moment, everything about jason reminded me of the girl I once loved like a sister.

campers’ clocks struck 12, echoing wishes of ‘merry christmas’ throughout the camp.

“merry christmas, n/n,” jason smiled down at me.

“merry christmas, weatherman.”

“N/N!!! mErrY cHriStMaaaaaaaS!-“

“merry christmas, your honour, bad boy supreme,” I laughed at leo.

getting up from our spots on the mattresses around the campfire, everyone made their way into the hermes cabin. they had the biggest beds, and we’d all gotten our cabin’s heaters into one for more warmth.

the stolls fell onto the bed first, followed by around 10-12 campers, jason, leo and me. everyone readjusted themselves to comfort, and we were all falling asleep.

in the morning, I wouldn’t have anyone to share a miraculous christmas kiss with, but I will have many hugs to give to the boys I loved like my own brothers, and that would be enough for me any day.

bonus!

“i’m not crying, you are,” chiron said, wiping a stray tear away, looking at the huge cuddle pile in the hermes cabin. “my babies!”

mr. d scoffed at him.

taglist — @sunnitheapollokid @puffoz @canonfeminine @taytayluvr @urmomabby @cinemaconrad @aezuria @thetunnelunderoceanboulevard @jgracie @cherigall @percabethluvr @pjoverseluvr @maybxlle

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[fernifox]

Yamato!!! I love him so much, he’s one of my favorite side characters.

[traumakiss]

Name: Nicole, Nicotine, Amaya, Charlotte (Charlie/Lotte) Pronouns: He/Him, Cut/Cuts, Gore/Gores, Slit/Slits Titles: N/A Age: 18 Species: Human Gender: Transfeminine, Gxrl Orientation: Aroallo, BiLesbian Typing Quirk: N/A Other: Hypersexual

CisIDs: Brunette, Blue Eyes, ASPD, BPD, NPD, Low Empathy TransIDs: PermaAbuser, PermaManipulator, TrisHarmful, TransSmoker, TrisMisandrist, TransGoreAddict Paraphilias: Nｅcrophile, Somnophile, Biastophile, Erotophonophile Blankqueer Stance: Xenosatanist Other: Sadist

Role: Persecutor Source: Nicole { Class of 09 } Likes: Gore, Women Dislikes: Men, Being Vulnerable Other: N/A Appearance: Canon, Just with S/H scars

[katsu28]

"Squeezing their hand reassuringly and holding their hand throughout an intense social situation" for Lando if you are still taking requests! I love your writing sm!!❤️❤️

thank you so much!!!

lando norris x reader, 1.5k. request something from here!

“I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?” 

You tilt your head at Lando as he slides back into his seat across from you, curious. He looks uncharacteristically serious. “What, did your card get declined or something?” 

“That’s—uh, excuse me? No.” Lando scoffs, scrunching his nose at you at the same time as he flips you off playfully. “My card did not decline, thank you very much. I’ll say it again, good news or bad news first?” 

“Good news first, always,” You insist firmly. 

Lando sighs, propping his elbows up on the table. “Good news, you got a free meal on me again. Bad news, there's a whole crowd of cameras and fans outside the restaurant right now and no way out the back.” 

“Oh.” 

Even just thinking about having to push through the whole gaggle of paparazzi outside has an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. You know you should be used to it by now, seeing as you’ve been with Lando for a while and known him even longer, but it’s not something you go through on a regular basis. You’ve tried your very best to avoid it, really. 

Without him, nobody notices you. You can blend in with others and not have to worry about whether or not your life is being looked at through a microscope. 

With him, you feel thrust into the spotlight. Even though you know they’re not here for you, they’re here for him, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares so long as they get a picture of Lando. Of course, not all of the fans are like that, but in your experience, things can get out of hand very quickly. 

“I’m sorry, love. I know how much you hate crowds.” 

“Um, yeah, it’s alright. I can handle it.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to you, and Lando takes notice, his brow creasing in concern. 

“You sure? I can leave now and you can wait here til it all dies down. I promise I’ll circle back for you,” He offers, tilting his head. He reaches across the table to take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Half of you wants to play it safe and take him up on the offer. It would be easier on yourself to take that route. 

At the same time, you don’t want to hide anymore. The greater part of you feels like it's about time you mustered up the courage to embrace the very thing that makes you nervous. Lando has to do it everyday, surely you can handle it once. 

“No. We’ll leave together,” You decide, firmer this time. He smiles and stands from his seat, ever a gentleman as he helps you up from your own seat. Your previous confidence takes a rather large blow when you get to the waiting area of the restaurant and actually see just how large the crowd outside is. You stop suddenly.

“I’ve got you,” He says softly. “I won’t let go of you.” 

“Promise?” 

Lando holds out his pinky towards you in a silent promise, a pre race tradition you’ve adopted to help him settle his nerves before a race. You study his completely sincere expression for a few moments before letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, hooking your pinky around his. Both of you bring your linked hands up to your mouth, kissing the side of your fists to seal the promise. 

A silly gesture from way back in his karting days, but the significance it holds now is set in stone. 

“Okay. Okay, fuck, let’s get this over with!” His fingers slide into yours now, squeezing your hand reassuringly just for good measure. 

It feels like a full body assault on all your senses coming from all sides the moment you step outside. Flashing cameras, screaming fans, being jostled around even as Lando pushes through the crowd first to try to clear the way for you. You make the mistake of looking out into the crowd instead of keeping your head down like him, and instantly you’re blinded by a series of photos being snapped inches in front of your face. 

You can’t see a thing anymore, vision swimming with white spots no matter how much you blink to try to get rid of them. You stumble on the uneven cobblestones, and Lando’s grip on your hand tightens, his other arm slipping around your waist to steady you before you trip again. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” He says into your ear, holding you close. He’s the only thing keeping you from panicking, your anchor in the ocean of people as he forges on towards the car waiting at the edge of the sidewalk. “Here, step up. Yeah, that’s it, grab there. Watch your head.” 

You scramble into the backseat of the car as quickly as you can so Lando can climb in after you. The door slams shut, and all that remains is silence. No more clamoring, no more screaming, just the rumble of the car under you and the telltale lurch that you’ve started to move. 

Collapsing back against the headrest, you laugh, high pitched and disbelieving. 

“Are you alright?” Lando’s voice sounds strained, tinged with concern, and his hand squeezes yours again. “All in one piece? All your limbs still attached?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’m okay, I just can’t really see anything right now,” You sigh. Your vision is still fuzzy, even in the darkness of the car. If you focus hard enough, you can kind of make out faint outlines of your surroundings, but you know it’ll be a bit until you’ll be seeing things clearly again. Lando makes a worried sound, and you're sure if you could see him his head would be cocked to the side, brows pinched in the middle. “Just the flashing cameras, probably. Now I know why you wear sunglasses everywhere you go.” 

He laughs then, giggles at you like you've said something absolutely hilarious. “I told you why I always have them on me! Did you think I was joking?” 

“No, I just always thought you were being a douchebag.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Only douchebags wear glasses indoors, Lando. And blind people, but you're not blind.” 

“You might be after this,” He snickers. You shove him with a huff. Well, your smack hits something firm and he yelps, so you assume it’s him. “Ow, jesus—fine, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I shouldn't be making fun of blind people.” 

“You shouldn’t be making fun of me! Why didn’t you bring them today?” 

“I did!” He insists. “I just��left them right here on the seat. Whoopsies.”

“Whoopsies.” 

The car returns you to Lando’s building, and thankfully by then your vision has returned so you can make your way up to his floor on your own. Lando’s gone quiet on the elevator ride up, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him. After a good meal like the one you’ve just had, usually he’s talking about how he wants to dive into bed and sleep for ten years. This time, he just stares at the changing numbers above the door silently. 

He wanders to the couch as soon as you get into the apartment, whereas you make your way over to the kitchen to grab some water. You grab a glass from the cabinet, not turning around as you ask, “Water, Lan?” 

“Do you ever regret it?” Lando sounds small, unsure. You freeze, wait for him to keep going, but he doesn’t. Confused, you turn around with the glass still in hand to see him not even looking at you, instead focusing hard on picking at a loose thread at the edge of his sleeve. 

He fiddles when he’s upset, something you’d learned quite early on in just being around him. He’s actually quite easy to read, really. Or maybe it’s just because you love him so much you’ve become attuned to his body language, what he does when he’s sad, mad, and everything in between. 

You give an acknowledging noise for him to elaborate, and he drops the thread, finally looking up at you. “Being with me.” 

“Now why would you ever think that?” You’re the concerned one now, rushing over to sit beside him on the cushions. 

He shrugs, letting his shoulders drop heavily. “I dunno, just…everything that comes with me, it’s a lot to deal with, y’know? Sometimes I wonder if you wish my life wasn't so…public all the time.” 

You take Lando’s face in your hands firmly, tilting his chin up so he's looking directly at you. “I will gladly take you and everything you come with. No matter what it is. I never want you to doubt that, my love.”

“I don’t,” He says softly, a flicker of a smile gracing his face. “How did I ever get so lucky with you?” 

“I think it was the knobby knees and giant head that really made young me go, yeah, I want that one. I think the sentiment still stands too.” 

Lando's smile disppears. Now he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're mean. You're mean and I hate you."

"That was for making fun of me earlier!"

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[wouldtheyfuck]

[theoldmanoftheday]

Old man of the day is The Flame from Furi!

[phoxphenex]

req: texts with chenle where he's your classmate and you always flirt with him boldly and tell him you like him but he always rejects your advances saying he's not interested and you swear you'll get him until you get tired of it and stop texting and replying to him so he realizes he's in love with you and apologizes until he wins you back

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥