#and then i stayed awake for more than like an hour or 2 at a time and i was like actually this blows and i AM dying of mild discomfort

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms (Part 2)

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: A little PTSD for reader alluding to a horrific incident but not much described besides blood.

Word Count: 3,702

Notes: Happy New Year my loves!

_________________________________________

You’re jolted awake at the rocking of your SUV dipping into a pothole.

Your spine straightens on its own accord and your bleary eyes snap open, frantically scanning the space, on high alert. Your heart pounds in your chest as you desperately try to take in your surroundings. Outside the window, there is nothing but darkness, the skies and scenery draped in midnight-hour black.

It takes you more than a second to realize where you are. In the back of an SUV on your way to your parent’s charity gala that you cannot miss. Except that the weather in New York took a turn for the worse, a heavy blizzard that no news stations mentioned before you fell into an exhausted sleep last night. No planes in, and no planes out.

Which meant that you had to find alternative transportation to make it to Chicago before the gala, which meant that Azriel had to arrange safe travel for you to get there on time, his job already on the line from his mistake only days ago.

Not the kiss. Not the weak fucking moment he had in the bathroom of your suite after a passerby tossed an unknown object at you that split the skin above your brow.

Your parents don’t know about the kiss. You tried to convince Azriel that it wasn’t worth telling them, and he tried to convince you that it couldn’t happen again.

His eyes had been hard. He’d been wearing that same stoic mask he showed up on his first day with. “We can’t do that again,” he’d said, like the kiss was transactional. Like he didn’t feel the passion that lit your entire body up, the wanting in your bones.

No kisses have happened in the days since.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s through the rear-view mirror and the sight of your infallible bodyguard has you relaxing against the warm leather seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel says softly. His rough, gravelly tone sharpens his apology.

“It’s fine,” you brush off, but it’s not fine. Nothing that has anything to do with you is ever fine.

Silence takes over the car. He hasn’t even turned on the radio to keep him company while you slept. You frown at the thought, then realize that silence is probably what Azriel is used to, what he prefers.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you admit.

Azriel’s gaze stays focused on the road, not another vehicle in sight. “You needed it,” he defends, and you shrug.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours away from the Ohio border,” Azriel answers. You glance at the neon glow of the clock. It reads just past one in the morning, which means that you still have seven or so hours of driving to go, depending on how bad the road conditions are.

You’re supposed to be in Chicago by ten a.m. for brunch with your parents and the charity director for the gala, but with all of the delays that have happened since New York, you’d much rather spend as much time as you can away from the crazy normal that is your life. This unexpected road trip feels like a breath of fresh air that you didn’t know you needed.

You squint, peering around the passenger seat. The roads are clear from snow, piled high on the sides of the highway, but that doesn’t mean that there can’t be patches of black ice to look out for.

You decide to keep Azriel company. You don’t want to be sleeping the night away peacefully while he navigates through four states to get you back to your parents. You know for a fact that he’s gone days without speaking a single word nor getting an ounce of sleep, but right now, with the dark of night blanketing the car, it feels cruel.

Azriel protests when you unbuckle and climb over the console, claiming the front passenger seat. His hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel and he tries to keep his focus on the road, though you do catch him sneaking a protective peek over at you more than once. It makes you want to snort with amusement, there’s no threat here, unless he hits a patch of aforementioned black ice, but you trust Azriel with your life, so you should be fine.

And you are. Azriel’s shoulders don’t lose a strand of tension until your buckle slides locked with a click. Even then, he can hardly relax. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving this late at night,” you retort easily, kicking your feet up on the dash. Azriel’s hand comes down over your knee before you can fully prop up your legs, guiding you in a gentle yet stern matter to keep your feet on the floor. You follow his command so that he doesn’t banish you back to the back seat.

He hardly acknowledges you, focusing on the task at hand. Delivering you in one piece to Chicago in time to arrive at all of your scheduled meetings. He will not fail your family a second time.

With his focus pinned on the road, you drink your bodyguard in. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors to the windshield in meticulous rotation. You trail your gaze down the straight slope of his nose to his pink, plush lips. You haven’t stopped thinking about his mouth on yours since the desperate kiss you shared in your hotel room two nights ago, and a warm heat coils low in your stomach at the memory, waking you up.

“You look tired,” you murmur, distractedly. He does. The gray circles under his eyes aren’t the only thing giving Azriel’s exhaustion away. It’s in the way he blinks slowly, but forces his eyes wide. It’s in the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for something to focus on other than the road. It’s in the empty cup of coffee stacked on his old ones. He’s stopped thrice tonight for a caffeine boost and you slept though them all. He’d be jonesing for another if you hadn’t climbed up into the seat beside him. His entire body is tightened with alert now that you’re here.

He isn’t tired, he’s wired. Three large black coffees might have been too much, but it’s your presence that has Azriel more alert than anything. His skin heats at the feeling of your eyes on him, can feel every movement you’re making from across the console.

He taps his fingers against the wheel to expel the nervous energy. You wonder what’s going on because Azriel’s resolve never cracks like this. Everything was fine when you were in the backseat, asleep. He didn’t have to interact, possibly mislead you. He was free to dig into his mind, overthink every little thing that’s happened between the both of you since this little journey began.

He knows you too well. He has to. He’s read your file, like he does with all of his clients. Somehow, you’ve managed to worm your way into his mind, deeper than a flesh wound.

“I’m fine,” he assures. He rubs a hand down his jaw, the short stubble tickling his skin. He needs to shave.

“We should stop for the night,” you protest, catching glimpse of a sign on the side of the highway that shows that you’re only a few miles away from a town to get gas and sleep.

“We need to be in the city early,” Azriel refutes. He chances a glance over at you. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you’re wearing that stern, determined look on your face that makes his cock twitch in his pants. He keeps himself carefully still. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we stop for the night, Azriel,” you reply. “I was telling you that we are going to stop for the night.”

He should protest, he knows that he should. He doesn’t know anything about this town, if it’s filled with lunatics or people who’d try and harm either one of you for your expenses. The decked-out, expensive SUV is a sign screaming rich.

You don’t remove your glare from him until he veers the vehicle onto the exit ramp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’ll take the chair,” Azriel says, eyeing the single bed in the room. “I won’t be sleeping anyway.”

Your nose scrunches. You stare at the chair for a long second and return your gaze to Azriel’s. The entire point of stopping for the night was to rest, to let the storm that caught up to you play out and hopefully finish the drive with clearer conditions.

Something clenches in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or your stomach or both.

He won’t sleep because there is only one bed.

“So, you’re going to sit in that chair,” you repeat like you don’t understand. You don’t, and you point to the faded green armchair. The rests are made of a blonde wood and the back of the chair sits so straight that there’s no chance anyone could actually fall asleep in it. “And do what? Watch me sleep?”

His jaw sharpens, the muscles flexing as he clenches his teeth. His hazel eyes follow the point of your finger for a fleeting second before returning to yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched you sleep.

“I’ll turn the chair toward the window,” Azriel answers like this is a solution. If it makes you uncomfortable, he will even wait in the car.

The real solution would be for him to get in the fucking bed with you and sleep for a few hours. You saw the stack of empty coffee cups in the car. You saw the strain in his posture, the way he was forcing himself from giving into his exhaustion.

A disbelieving noise crawls up your throat. He’s so fucking stubborn. It’s not like you’re both eighteen and the prospect of touching looms over you. No, you’re both adults. You’ve seen him sans clothes, even if it was an accident, and Azriel has been in the room with you during fittings with designers your father fully didn’t trust. He may have been turned toward the window, you toward the mirror, but there was always the thrill that maybe he’d peek over his shoulder, give you a long once-over, that maybe some sort of want would infiltrate his hard, hazel eyes.

You’ve imagined it more than once.

“Azriel,” you scold. You busy yourself with moving your luggage to the empty desk in the corner. The table wobbles as you set your things on it, but it stays upright. You quickly move back toward the bed and tug the blankets back, doing your best to reign in your cringe as you think about the possibilities of what could have gone on in this dingy motel room on the side of the interstate. You’re used to luxurious, five-star hotels catering to your every need, not rundown motels that reek of mothballs and crime.

Ghosts. Are there ghosts?

“We stopped here specifically so you could sleep,” you try to argue, but you sound distracted, and Azriel’s gaze snaps to yours, his shoulders straightening like he’s going into protective mode.

He catches you staring dazedly at the bed. Your fingers are curled tightly into the blankets, lips pressed together tightly. Your chest is rising and falling more quickly, and he rounds the bed, coming to your aid.

Azriel knows the life you’re used to living. What you must be thinking about a place like this. He could say something mean, mention how spoiled you are, how it’s just like the hotels you usually stay in, minus the amenities. He wants to tell you that people have done worse things in nicer rooms, especially the ones you tend to stay in, but he knows that your frozen features are due to something else, a dark memory that edges up every once in a while.

“Let me get you some fresh blankets,” he murmurs. His hand comes down around your wrist gently, drawing you slowly from your daze. The heat of his body sears through the thin fabric of your pajamas, and you latch onto that as you squeeze your eyes shut and force the memories away.

“No,” you choke, sounding much more put-off than you’d like. Azriel knows your past, you remind yourself, he knows everything about you, this isn’t you looking weak. You’re only human. “It’s fine, I—” you swallow roughly as a smatter of red conjures behind your eyelids. You try hard not to flinch, but it’s there, the blood on the walls like some fucking mural.

You look down at your hands, painted with the same crimson. Your clothes, and as you drag your eyes up to the bed—

“Hey,” Azriel snaps, hand planted firmly on your cheek, tearing you from the awful memory. You blink and your eyes latch onto his worried hazel ones. You didn’t even notice Azriel turning you around, how your hand went from clutching the sheets to fisting in his black button down. “You’re not there, you hear me?”

You nod because your throat is too tight to do anything else. Tears brim your eyes and Azriel wipes an escaped drop that drags down the apple of your cheek. His touch is too soft, too tender.

You pull away, ripping yourself from his hands. You turn toward the bed and don’t allow the dreadful recollection another thought. You slip between the sheets and try to hide your trembling movements by tugging the blankets all the way up to your chin.

You can feel Azriel’s presence behind you. You always can, whenever he’s in the room. It’s like the two of you are magnets. There is an attraction to him that you can’t place.

He knows that you won’t be sleeping now. That the harrowing memory of what you’ve been through lingers in the surface of your mind and if you should fall asleep, it will only haunt you worse.

Azriel’s known about your past, the terror that you’re trying so desperately to run from, to forget. It chases you like death is on your heels, ready to grip you with its bony fingers and drag you into the dark. He’s been briefed on how you might respond when the trauma inevitably claws its way back, but this is his first time experiencing it happening to you. How it grips you around the throat and threatens to consume you.

His jaw aches from grinding it so tight. The one thing that he can’t protect you from is the one thing he wants to protect you from the most.

He has a job, and this is part of it, he tells himself as he kicks his shoes off.  

“Shove over.”

“What?” You ask, confused. You peer over your shoulder to see Azriel shrugging off his jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt that clings to his body exactly the way you want to. You never thought you’d be jealous of a piece of clothing, yet here you are. You carefully tear your gaze away.

“You need to sleep and I know your stubborn, spoiled ass isn’t going to do it if I’m not doing it with you” he pauses. That sounded so fucking wrong, but Azriel trudges on. “So, shove over.”

You fight the smile that threatens to curve your lips at his comment. If it was coming from anyone else, you’d be offended, but you know that Azriel doesn’t mean it as anything other than a joke. You scoot further toward the edge of the bed, shivering at the cool sheets. Your goosebumps only prickle further when Azriel’s weight hits the mattress, and the warmth of his body washes over you.

You try not to let your breathing shallow as he settles himself in. He’s not even touching you, for Mother’s sake, and yet you’re responding as if you’re a teenager lying beside her childhood crush.

“Don’t think about it,” Azriel’s voice startles you.

You might smile at the rough demand in Azriel’s tone if you weren’t feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to come up behind you and shove you off.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter. When the light flickers out, your body locks, and the memory explodes in your mind like a fucking gunshot wound.

“I said, don’t think about it.” Azriel’s voice is a gruff command in your ear, snapping you back into reality. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you can hear the struggle in your lungs as you try to gulp down what little air makes it through your constricting esophagus.

Hands wind their way around your waist and you don’t have a second to struggle before Azriel tugs you back into his chest, molding his body against your back. A warm, heavy arm is draped across your side, and his hand finds your shaking ones beneath the blankets, offering you a lifeline.

You clutch onto him. Azriel murmurs softly in your ear but you can’t make out the words. They’re in a different language. French or Italian or Spanish, you think. You sure that if he was speaking English, you still wouldn’t understand with the way that you’re focusing on fighting past the demons in your head.

The room is pitch black. You always sleep with a light on, even if it’s just the screen of your phone lighting up the darkness. You haven’t been in a blackened room like this since that night, and Azriel knows it, which is why, with some maneuvering, he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it on the bedside table, illuminating the room in an awful white light that has you all but melting into his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It sounds much too loud in the quiet of your motel room.

“Go to sleep,” he answers plainly. His bluntness almost makes you smile.

But you can’t go to sleep, and not just because of the lingering aftershocks of your memory. As those slowly eke away, you focus on the feeling of Azriel’s body pasted tightly against yours.

You swear you can feel every muscle that is packed onto his hard body through your clothes. Your ass is nestled against his front, and you want to wiggle oh-so badly, to writhe against him in the hopes of feeling what he’s working with down there.

He’s still fully clothed, you notice. Didn’t think twice about climbing into the bed behind you to console you. You wonder if he’s uncomfortable before realizing that with his military trained past, he must have slept in worse conditions than this before.

Which makes you cringe. Here you were, freaking out about a fucking motel when there are people who are going through much worse. Embarrassment flares your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

Azriel’s arms lock tighter around you, and he tugs you closer. You didn’t think there was a closer, but there is. His breath fans across your ear when he speaks. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to have a lot more than a blizzard and stiff fucking sheets to worry about.” He sounds callous, but there’s a strain to his tone, one that has all of the fiery feelings in your veins converging between your thighs.

Your movements halt immediately. “Sorry,” you say, but there’s no sleeping now. Not when his words are out there, hanging in the air. That if you kept moving, you’d have a different kind of stiffness to think about. One that you’re much more interested in than the starchy sheets.

You close your eyes anyway, trying to fight off the interest stirring low in your gut. The image of Azriel naked, rolling on top of you drifts into your mind. Your pussy clenches when he slowly parts your legs and flashes you a devious smile before lowering himself between your legs.

Movement has your eyes jolting open. You’re holding your body so tightly that Azriel would be terrible at his job if he didn’t know that you weren’t asleep like you should be.

“Sleep,” Azriel reminds you brusquely. His hand splays across your stomach, his thumb stroking across the soft fabric of your shirt in a soothing motion, or what would be a soothing motion if you weren’t three seconds from creating the foulest dirty thoughts about him or two seconds away from actually doing something about it.

“Okay,” you breathe, trying to force annoyance into your words instead of the arousal that slips out anyway. Azriel’s thumb falters and you swear you feel something against the curve of your ass twitch. Your breath catches in your throat and now you know that the movement against your hind wasn’t a part of your imagination.

The noise you let slip has blood pooling into Azriel’s cock. He refuses to move, refuses to do anything except squeeze his eyes shut and practice the techniques he learned in the Royal Marines to keep himself in fucking check. He promised that after the kiss in the bathroom that he would keep away from you, that this relationship would stay professional only.

Professional feels so fucking far away from this.

You find the courage to whisper. “Azriel?”

He grunts in response, to let you know he’s awake and listening, and you like the sound all too much. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” you admit.

Azriel sighs softly, his breath tickling your neck. “You didn’t even try,” he answers simply, but his fingers begin tracing a soft, soothing pattern across your forearm. You latch onto his hypnotic touch, wishing it would move further south. “Just think of better things. I’m here, and you’ll be alright.”

I’m here, and you’ll be alright. Because he’s your bodyguard, your protector, and he won’t ever let anything happen to you, mentally or physically.

You shut your eyes and think about those words, the soft touch from a man so callous and strong, long until you fall asleep.

[456-is-the-way]

A/n: I made a previous pot earlier today, announcing I will be making more Squid Game fanfictions. If you want to be tagged in them, please comment or dm me, and I will make a list. Also, if you have any suggestions for a character x reader, please let me know/ in the request box, dm, or comment here, and I will also tag you! After this part, I have an In- Ho x reader coming up soon! And more. So keep looking on my page!!

Tag list: @carolinevoight ALSO anyone know why it won't let me tag people? Some people i couldn't get on here 🥺

Triggers: Death, Mild Gore, Mentions of Torture, and SMUT

Seong Gi-hun x Reader

Game of Hearts pt.2

The clock struck 12 when a knock came to her apartment door. (Y/n) took a deep breath grabbing her wallet then making her way to the door. She had to mentally prepare herself all night long; this was nothing more than a professional friendship. She stayed awake pondering why this happened to her. (Y/n) never acted out with a client like this. But her endless hours with Seong Gi-hun , all the unspoken works, lustful gazes, and gentle touches she hoped something good could be true. This entire time was just them becoming… closer friends? The next knock broke her out of the trance. (Y/n) let the door fly open her breath was taken away just as quickly seeing Gi-hun. He told her this was just a professional outing yet here the same man is dressed up to perfection. Gi-hun’s raven hair was slicked back perfectly and a fitted tuxedo to match.

“Are… you serious Gi-hun?! You said casual but what is with…all this?!” (Y/n) exclaimed out of breath already from just the sight of him. Gi-hun pouts softly those expert puppy eyes find their way down to her. “N-no.. d-don’t give me that look!” She whined placing both hands on his chest gently pushing him away.

“I know but you always look very nice and I figured why not dress up for our special day out?” He grumbled, continuing to give her that pouting face. (Y/n) groaned before grabbing his hand.

“Be lucky you are cute.”

“Wait you think I’m c-” He was cut off being dragged out towards this car. ‘Remember this is all professional,only friends.’ She thought.

_1 Year Later_ (Start of season 2)

The following year had been a mess for (Y/n). It felt like Gi-hun purposefully made extra time for them, daily meetings, friendly dinners, and how close he would get. Hovering over her while she worked or pressed against her from behind. It all was very confusing, all these signals just to be told they are friends…All she could do was smile and agree. However, today changed everything when (Y/n) and one of her workers found the salesman. Gi-hun felt his pulse rate spike as they were on a phone call. “Be careful! Do not get too close, I am on my way.” He said slamming on the gas pedal.

“I will be fine Gi-hun! Shit we are on foot again. My tracker is on so I will be fine.” She said, The race against the clock had Gi-hun sweating in fear of losing (Y/n) . At this point having the salesman in his grasp didn’t matter.

“Hey! Are you there!? (Y/N) answer me!” Gi-hun yelled as he heard scuffling , the sounds of a fight. “Fucking answer me!” He cried before the phone went dead. This was worse than any other nightmares he experienced. Worse than all those dame games combined. Gi-hun slammed on the brakes, jumping out of his vehicle running down the alleyways turning each corner; the only sound was his own heart beat ,thumping against his chest. “(Y/N)!” He yelled and looked around before falling to his knees seeing blood all over the ground. His heart sank, falling to his knees seeing her phone there on the ground. He rubs his tears away before calling his other contacts. He would tear down all of Seoul if that's what it took….

Seong Gi-hun had searched the surrounding areas and had men everywhere looking for you but nothing. The man finally decided to go back to his hotel to ponder everything but hope was fading quickly. That's when it happened he froze seeing the hotel door was not locked as usual, you are the only one who had a key to his place. Gi-hun pulled his gun out walking into the building. Each step felt like it made the hall grow in size. Was it even possible? He didn't know if it was dizziness or the idea of finding your dead body. A tense feeling formed hearing your whimpering coming from one of the rooms. Gi-hun rushed into the door nearling falling as he did. (Y/n) was laying on the bed tied up soaked in blood. It set a fire in Gi-hun seeing her in this condition. He pulled the blind fold down, her eye bruised and tear flowing down them. “(Y/n)...” He whispered, undoing your binds.

“Gi-hun.” She gasped, leaning against his embrace. “I am sorry the girl I was with told him I knew where you would be… He made us play some games… I won and he shot her. Gi-hun he is in the room he-” (Y/n)’s eyes widen as Gi-hun cuts her off with a passionate kiss. (Y/n) leans in moaning loudly fisting his raven hair.

“(Y/n) listen to me… Stay here I will be okay. I promise here’s my weapon. If I don't come back I want you to shoot him.. I love you okay? I want you to stay here, don’t move…promise me.” He begged, (Y/n) nodded slowly.

“I promise.” She whispered, giving one last kiss. (Y/n) closed her eyes tightly, unable to watch Gi-hun disappear. Now she laid there breathing heavily. Her body flinched hearing the gun shot go off. (Y/n) knew she promised Gi-hun to stay put and the shot shattered that. She darts to the door, opening it to find Gi-hun standing there with soft eyes.

He took (Y/n) by the hand gently leading her to one of the bathrooms, “Clean up and I will get you new clothes.” Gi-hun turned around but (Y/n) grabbed his arm.

“Don’t leave me…” She whispered. Gi-hun nods looking down into her eyes. His own widen seeing as (Y/n) starts to unbutton her shirt. “Its okay to look.” (Y/n) reassured Gi-hun, after the comment he couldn't pull himself to look away from her gorgeous body. The blood soaked clothes hit the ground and the bloody mess ran down towards the drain. (Y/n) sighed deeply letting the water fill up. “So we aren’t just friends…are we?” The long awaited question was finally asked.

“No, we are much more than friends.” Gi-hun whispered .

“THEY WHY?! After the last 2 years of leading me on… did you not realize how it made me feel when you kept reminding me we are just ‘friends?’... I won't accept ‘I was trying to protect you’ as an excuse.”

He frowns picking up the rag to clean (Y/n)’s back,” Listen… I have nightmares every night about the games and ever since I met you my nightmare was seeing you die there. These people are fucked up, (Y/n) you seen what that guy is capable of and it was just you and the other girl. Imagine that but only your friends being forced to play these twisted games. I realized I had dragged you in far enough not including gaining feelings for you which I could tell were mutual. I never meant to hurt you but I knew I would rather you be heartbroken than dead because of me.” (Y/n) rubs her tears away, not giving him a response yet continues to allow Gi-hun to wash her body. “Let me get you a towel.” He whispered gently, turning around to get her one of them once she looked over to her Gi-hun felt body go warm. He was struggling this whole time to be a gentleman but seeing (Y/n) naked before him sent his blood flowing south.

It would be hard not to notice the bulge in Gi-Hun’s pants as he stood there like a deer in headlights. “I assume it's been a while?” (Y/n) asked and poor Gi-Hun could only nod in response, unable to form proper words. Step by step she took her time walking towards her handsome partner. She gabbes Gi-hun’s hand as he blindly follows her into one of the many rooms the hotel has.

“(Y/n)-”

“Gi-hun shut up.” She pushed the door opening before turning around sitting on the bed pressing her breasts together. “Strip.” Her voice is low and commanding. Like an obedient puppy he instantly began to strip, first his shirt. (Y/n) was surprised by his nice lean body having some muscles around his arms. She smirked as Gi-hun slowly pulled his pants,along with his boxers, down revealing his throbbing cock. “Lay down.”

Gi-hun quickly throws himself on the bed causing her to giggle. “Sorry but god you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He was sitting up as she crawled on top of Gi-hun. He eagerly found her lips grabbing a fist full of her (h/c) hair groaning as his cock grinds against her wet cunt. “God you are a soaked baby.” He reached down rubbing her clit roughly earning angelic moans from her mouth.

“Fuck Gi-hun!” She gasped as he flipped them over, pressing her into the bed. Gi-hun kissed her neck roughly, his hands glinds up and down her body. “Mmm, I need you!” She pleaded which all it took as he plunged into her warmth. He groaned loudly, not hiding any of his vocal pleasures.

The sounds of their heavy breathing and slapping skin filled the room. He moaned as (Y/n) rolled her hips up, “God baby.” He growled, thrusting harshly as the bed started to shake. “I'm so close.”

She pulled him closer. “Please baby cum in me. Load me up!” (Y/n) begged, pressing her body up against Gi-hun’s. He reached down rubbing her swollen clit helping her orgasm. “FUCK!” The female cried out as her inner walls clamp down, milking his cock dry.

Gi-hun shakes from the pleasure forehead pressed against her. “That was amazing.” He whispered before pulling out collapsing beside her. He nuzzled (Y/n)’s cheek as the cuddle under the covers. He sat there pondering the next move to make because in the salesman’s pocket was a card… If he went he wanted to make sure (Y/n) would be safe and taken care of…

_October 31st 9pm Club HDH_

“Stay here and promise me you will be safe? I don't want you to get hurt.” Gi-hun whispered. “I love you baby.”

(Y/n) took a deep, “I will be okay my love now hurry up and go. It's only 3 hours before it's time to meet and I know it’s a decent drive.” She kissed Gi-hun once more before he left. (Y/n) took a moment going to the window as their team set out to the Club HDH. After she was positive they were gone (Y/n) reached into her own pocket pulling out a card, on one side a triangle, square, and circle was printed, on the other a time and location.

‘If you want to ensure his safety the only way is to join yourself. We both know how he is, don't we?’ Those words from the salesman were stuck in her head. (Y/n) knew Gi-hun had to join the games… she wouldn’t allow him to go alone. Gathering her stuff she ran out to follow her GPS to the pick up location…

[hello-universe-lovers]

SHENANIGANS: where Mai gives headcanons to the Voices in your Head ™️ based purely off vibes.

This episode: The voices at bedtime!

((I know some of you need to go to bed, so consider this a call-out/jk. Anyway, get your plushies some water, we're tucking our lil voices in for bed!!

Voice of the HERO: rarely sleeps late, Hero falls asleep fast. With the exception of some emergencies, Hero will go to bed at a reasonable 10-11 PM. She is also a fast sleeper, as well. However, if something happens, she is the first to wake up and check it out. Her spears makes her ideal to deal with home intruders (not that they had any...;3)

Voice of the PARANOID: He TRIES to sleep early at around 9 PM, so she has the time to stew in bed to let the energy out. That backfires as they spent so so SO long worrying about every shadow and creek in the night that actual sleep time is around 12 to 3 AM. And that's not including the nightmares. Often, you find em making something in the kitchen to try and burn off the energy. It works roughly 50%. Then it's off to Hero to share a bed.

Voice of the SMITTEN: he ALSO sleeps at a reasonable time at 10:30 PM. It would be earlier, if not for his meticulous grooming ritual. He takes his time getting ready for slumber. And Long Quiet forbid you interrupt him, mid ritual. There are few things the Voices share a fear in. One of them is a Smitten who couldn't finish his 1000 stroke brushing routine.

Voice of the COLD: man wears a bathrobe, so everywhere is his sleeping spot. He sleeps whenever he feels like it, going for days, pushing his physical body's limits until those limits are reached and he crashes somewhere. And when he wakes, he documents the result and push it more. So far, his record for staying awake is 12 days. And that was cut off because Hero had to step in. Thankfully, when he crashes, he's light enough to be carried to his room.

Voice of the SKEPTIC: As if he's any better than Cold. If he finds something to sink his claws into, he will stay up studying it for days at a time. The only difference is that he knows his limit and is out like a light. And I mean OUT. You ain't waking him up until at least 7 hours. It got to the point where Hero has banned late night books just so She didn't had to deal with 2 chronic stay-awakers.

Voice of the CHEATED: she sleeps a little later, mainly due to waiting for the drugs to kick in and some evening workout so she doesn't wake up with sore limbs. She will always be out by Midnight, and will stay down until morning. Despite her aching bones, her body LOVES to move during the night, so she has to crash fast. As a result, the only time you are waking her is at minimum 5 hours later. She doesn't like sleeping alone, as it often caused her nightmares, so Broken is always with her.

Voice of the BROKEN: ironically, a night owl. She sleeps the latest, roughly around 2 AM. so she and Paranoid have a lot of kitchen talks. Granted, this is mostly because she spent a lot of her day "sleeping" in the Networked Wild, so her circadian rhythm is off kilter. Attempts to fix it have proven fruitless, so they just accepted it. Plus, it's not like she's any worse at night, than during the day.

Voice of the OPPORTUNIST: whether with Thorn, or another voice (coughstubborncough), Oppy sleeps better with company. His nightmares aren't frequent, but they aren't infrequent either. So he often seeks solace in another body, at the dead of 1-2 AM. When he can't find anyone, he sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Many have complained about it, but it's not his fault he finds comfort in it. "Steel can't lie" as Paranoid once said.

Voice of the STUBBORN: he sleeps normally. I don't know what to tell you here. Aside from some pre-sleep work out, he sleeps fine. Though, in the night, he's susceptible to cramps easily so he is often rudely awakened to take care of it....oh and he sleep fights. His room is away from most other Voices because the noise he makes are Loud. Sometimes literally, if he somehow turn on his radio for some scene-appropriate training music. When awake, he recalls none of it, but will agree to cleaning up the best.

Voice of the HUNTED: while incredibly comfortable sleeping in a nest, he is the lightest sleeper, outside of Hero. He usually wakes up first to any commotion, but if Hero is up, he takes it as a sign of things being cared for and go back to sleep. He always offer them to sleep in his nest ("so the flock can be safe" he reasoned), but few took up on his offers, unless the nightmares are THAT bad. His nest is always big to accommodate all of em.

Voice of the CONTRARIAN: She makes a big deal about going to bed around 9 PM, showing signs of fatigue around that time. But when it is time to actually sleep, she waits in her room, until everyone is out cold (or the Night Owls were in another part of the house), before exiting the house and exploring. Sometimes she visits the Princess's cabin and screw with them. But most of the time she visits the Outside World, and get her hands on all she could find, before slipping back into bed, with a Gameboy or smth. No matter how little sleep she gets, Connie will be bright and loud in the morning, much to most everyone's dismay.

BONUS: The voices sleepwear!!

Wears a shirt and shorts: Hero, Cheated, Connie, Oppy

Proper sleep robes/pajamas: Cold, Smitten, Skeptic

Wears what they have: Broken, Hunted, Paranoid

Sleeps in the nude: Stubborn

[thevoidscreams]

Room for Growth Chapter: 2

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of pregnancy.

Lorgar roused earlier than you did. He was an early riser and his body as advanced as it was didn't require as much rest.

But he never left the bed until you were awake. He'd stay in your arms as long as possible. Pressed into your warm body by the firm grasp of your arms. He loved you. So deeply, so ardently, with all he had to give, he loved you.

His home and someday, he prayed, his wife. He'd never known love like this. Not that he could remember. His hearts raced at the idea that he might actually be tall enough soon to bed you properly. He'd been shocked that you'd noticed his growth. He'd noticed as soon as it had started. He was eager to see it persist.

His hands stroked your sides and hips, breathing in the calming scent of your sleep. Soon, he'd have one of his sons. And your unit would feel like a true family.

He shook his head. Not just his son. Your son as well. You would be the mother of his legion, and his sons would just adore you so. He knew it in the core of his being.

"I love you." Lorgar mumbled into your chest, the feeling of speaking his first tongue pleased him. He would have to teach you Colchisian. Then you two could be properly wed, and he could give you a child for him and you to love.

Not that you wouldn't love his gene sons. He was certain you'd love them all just as he loved them.

He felt your body begin to shift as your body came back to the waking world. He closed his eyes to enjoy the last few moments of peace before the day began.

"Lorgar~," you mumbled, and he opened his eyes as if he too had just awakened.

"Yes?" He asked.

"We gotta get up. I have a surprise for you today."

"What sort?"

"You'll see."

Reluctantly, the primarch let you go so you could rise and get ready for the day. His eyes tracked you as you went to the bathroom and he almost followed but stopped himself as the door shut behind you.

Soon, he was sure there would be no need for you to close the door behind yourself.

He trudged to the door and took one last deep breath of the concentrated scent of you in the room and then ducked out to properly dress himself for a day out. He wondered just what you had in mind.

I ran the brush over my teeth and spit out the frothy paste into the sink.

I was so excited to spend time with the only individual I knew personally who had a primarch. It had been a few months since I'd seen Shelby and Magnus.

Magnus was an interesting one, for sure. I understood that he had some kind of special power that he could utilize. But the way he'd explained it only left me more confused.

He was a good sport about it, though, not upset with me for struggling with his strange concepts. His human, a woman named Shelby who had taken him into her home had reached out to me on social media soon after I had welcomed Lorgar into my home. We met for coffee and after floating the idea by our respective primarchs found out that they got along well and that had led to the first of many meet ups. As many as we reasonably could. With Laws being what they were, the astartes and even primarchs were restricted to similar laws as children for a long time and legislation was just now beginning to change.

I hurried to get dressed and came out to find that Lorgar had already made a small breakfast for us both. "I hope it is adequate. We are out of bacon now." He smiled and plated the food. It smelled amazing. "It's perfect Gar, thank you." We ate and my primarch looked up at me with a strange expression before he dug into his own food. I felt that familiar warmth and squashed it down as best as I could.

The drive wasn't long, about half an hour in usual traffic. Lorgar picked up where half way through the journey and was practically glowing.

The car had barely been put into park before he was bounding out to greet his red haired brother. "Magnus!" "Lorgar!" They embraced fondly as they did every time. I got out much more composes and was shocked to see Shelby. "Oh my goodness! Are you!?" Shelby's smile brightened as she nodded. "Yep, pregnant." She hugged me gently. "Who? I mean, I thought you said you weren't seeing anyone." Shelby waved away the question and shrugged. "Things happen."

I took that as my sign to leave it be. We went into her home and I felt a similar pang of envy that I did every time. It was so nice, so big too.

"So what's new? We haven't talked in a while." Shelby gushed as I sat in her fancy sitting room and smiled. "I got a pretty significant raise cause I got the position I went it for." I explained and Shelby ooh'd and shared in my delight with me. "Also I'm looking at some places and I've put out to my social worker to see if any of Lorgar's sons are looking for placement."

It went back and forth that way for a while, just small talk and catching up.

Lorgar followed Magnus up to his own floor and grinned like a fool. "I see you have made good on your word brother." The word bearer spoke, his voice jovial and teasing. Magnus joined his smile with one of his own. "I will not bore you with the details but rest assured she and I have been thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Lorgar sighed, "Please don't hold your tongue on my account, do tell. I know how much you enjoy a good story." The brothers laughed and Magnus clapped his hands on Lorgar's shoulders.

"I can not wait for you to enjoy what I have brother, my abilities have made it easier for me, but soon I promise all of us, even our sons will be able to enjoy the fruits of Terra unbound by these ridiculous restraints. Lorgar nodded. "You are making good progress then, the humans are noticing." "Many are nervous." Magnus agreed, "But many more seem to thrill at the idea. And our father." Lorgar's head whipped up to stare down his brother. "You have reached him? Spoken to him?" "On the tides of the great ocean, yes. He is working under a guise to help push forward legislation for us. To improve our lives. Soon Lorgar, soon! We will not only have all the rights as the common man but when we are whole again, we will even have all the freedoms we desire. I will take my mortal woman, my Shelby as my wife, and you my brother, can have yours."

Lorgar breathed out a shaky breath, it was like a dream come true, to think he could marry the one he loved so dearly.

"She is going to bring one of my sons into our home, I can feel it in her. The desire, I know that soon she will have me as Shelby has had you." Magnus sat with his brother and nodded. "I have been looking into the tides to see the potential futures. It would seem most certain that she will. Give it some time brother."

Lorgar felt a tightness in his chest. "Every minutes feels a thousand lifetimes already."

His brother nodded. "I understand, but enjoy the time that you have her for."

The implications made Lorgar feel sick, of course he would out live her, but he did not wish to think of such things. So he changed the subject. "Have you thought of names?"

Magnus grinned and began his long explanation of each name he and his child's mother had chosen.

It was getting late into the afternoon by the time we had to go. I felt a certain kind of guilt as the brothers parted and we made our ways back home. "Did you enjoy your time with Magnus?" I asked wondering where the two had been all day. "Of course, I am always delighted to spend time with my beloved brother." "I'm glad to hear it. You want to help me make dinner when I get home?"

A domestic task he could share with you, even though he had enjoyed his time with his brother he still longed to spend the time with you as well. "Yes, I would enjoy that." His mind drifted as you drove and he imagined the future, where you were just as full of his children as Shelby was with Magnus's and it made his smiled only grow. He did so love you, and soon, he was certain you would know that.

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Over the Edge" - Warriors concept album fanfic (Part 2/3)

FINALLY got through the second part. A lot happens in kind of a shorter chapter than I usually write so be warned. TW for flashbacks of a near death experience and mildly implied suicidal ideation. Here's the link to Part 1. Enjoy!

--------

Rembrandt prayed the supervised tagging trip with Mercy would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. During the day, Rembrandt was subject to the ridiculous physical therapy regime Cochise implemented for her: strength training for her arm and stretches for her knee that hurt more than they seemed to help. Cochise was especially worried about Rembrandt’s shoulder because, according to what she read, one dislocation made Rembrandt prone to more if she didn’t take care of the joint, which was just fucking great. And of course Cochise had to make it worse by sharing that information in front of Cleon. 

By night, Rembrandt was out training Mercy with Swan and Ajax as security. It wasn’t as if Mercy only assisted with tagging. She went scouting with Cowgirl and learned first aid from Cochise. She patrolled with Swan and later Ajax, as well, after Ajax promised civility and Swan gave the okay. Rembrandt was proud of Ajax for that. The pair were a long way from being close friends, but they got along and Ajax had actually begun to like and even trust Mercy again. 

But they always needed more scouts. They always needed more people on patrols and Cochise made everyone learn basic first aid when they started. They only needed one tagger and that was Rembrandt but Rembrandt was kept on the sidelines just… supervising.

Mercy got good at it. So good it was hard for any non-Warrior to notice a difference, and no matter how frustrated it made her, Rembrandt was proud of Mercy. She knew Mercy was proud of herself and she had every right to be. She’d adjusted better than anyone expected, but every time she looked ready to celebrate another successful mission, she would look at Rembrandt with an expression the tagger couldn’t read and tone herself down and it made Rembrandt feel impossibly shitty every single time. 

She stopped sleeping. The flashbacks wouldn’t let her, not for more than an hour or two, until she stopped trying to make it happen. She turned to chugging coffee like water and smoking more than she ever had in her life, anything to get stimulants in her system in an attempt to stay awake. Nothing helped.

If Ajax didn’t trust her to be alone before, she certainly didn’t now. When Ajax had business to handle, Rembrandt spent her time doing nothing at Cleon’s apartment. They made sure someone was always in the apartment with her, something she both appreciated and loathed at the same time. One such night, she sat on the couch with her sketchbook in her lap, staring at the same empty page she’d been staring at for the past thirty minutes. Swan and Mercy were in their bedroom. Rembrandt wasn’t sure if they’d neglected to fully shut the door or if the walls were just thinner than she remembered, but she heard their muffled conversation.

“She looks like a fucking ghost!” Mercy hissed. “Look me in the eye and tell me honestly how much you think she’s slept in the past week.”

“I know she hasn’t,” said Swan, “but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“We could send her to a counselor or something.”

“Even if I thought that was a good idea, Rem would never go for it. Look, I’m worried, too, but-”

“Does she really have to do this?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We have. She’s working through it, okay? She’s getting there.”

“She’s getting worse!”

Rembrandt slammed the front door hard enough to wake the whole block. 

She made her way to the roof, hating how her knee protested as she climbed the stairs. A harsh wind blew in off the ocean. She tucked herself into the corner of the short wall that bordered the roof to hide from the worst of it and lit a cigarette. She only got a few puffs before Swan came to find her. 

The war chief sat close against her, touching from shoulder to hip. “Mind if I bum one?” she asked. Rembrandt passed her a cigarette and a lighter, then watched as she failed to light it multiple times against the wind. It would have been funny if she didn’t feel so awful. Taking pity on her, she tilted Swan’s head towards her and put their faces close together to light Swan’s cigarette with the burning tip of her own. Swan blew smoke through her nose and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

Rembrandt rested her head on Swan’s shoulder. “Tell Mercy to stop freaking out.”

“She still feels responsible for what happened.”

“She isn’t.”

“Try telling her that.”

“I did. When I talked to her after I woke up.” Rembrandt flicked her cigarette absentmindedly and closed her eyes. “Ajax is worried about me.” 

Swan took a long drag off her cigarette. “So am I.”

The door to the stairwell opened. “Swan,” Mercy said, “Masai is here.”

Rembrandt frowned and turned to Swan. “Why are the Riffs here?”

Swan didn’t answer. She just stubbed out her cigarette and took Rembrandt by the hand to lead her back into the apartment. 

Cleon and the rest of the Warriors waited for them in the kitchen alongside Masai and two Gramercy Riff soldiers. The Riffs stayed against the wall with their eyes on their leader; they were only ever around for entourage when Masai made a visit, anyway. Ajax nodded to Swan and replaced her beside Rembrandt, coaxing her to sit across from the two gang leaders at the table. Mercy took the seat next to her. She squeezed Rembrandt’s trembling hand under the table. 

“How are you feeling, Rembrandt?” asked Masai.

“Uh, fine. Thanks,” Rembrandt mumbled. “Cleon, what’s going on?”

“I told you we were figuring out exactly how to handle the Princes after they attacked you and Mercy,” Cleon said. Hearing the name of that gang was like a gut punch. “They already took care of the one that pushed you off the fire escape.”

“What do you mean?” 

Masai turned his palms to the ceiling. “He got what he deserved.”

“What does-”

“Rem,” Mercy whispered. She narrowed her eyes, her expression stony and frigid as she tried to convey the message without actually spelling it out. Rembrandt’s stomach turned. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Cleon said bluntly. “But the rest of them, we’re still deciding. Their leader knows this is inevitable and he’s guaranteed both no retaliation and assistance in whatever punishment we hand down, so we want you two to choose what happens.” 

The room spun. Rembrandt tasted bile and blood. Her vision went blurry as a shrill ringing echoed in her head. 

The night sky. Mercy’s voice. The sound of breaking glass as she hit the ground. There was blood, her blood, so much blood, and it was so cold and Mercy was screaming and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t-

Rembrandt had no idea how she ended up in the corner across the room but she did. There were voices in her ears speaking words she couldn’t understand. She covered her mouth with one hand and screwed her eyes shut but didn’t completely close herself off like she used to, trying not to puke while simultaneously refusing to look like a weak, traumatized child in front of everyone. She was not fragile, she was not broken, and no matter how much her whole crew looked at her like she was, she would not dig herself further into that hole. 

Someone touched her shoulder. She roughly shrugged them off to disguise the way she flinched. Risking a glance behind her, she saw Ajax and Cleon forming a wall between her and the others. Cleon’s mouth was moving as she said something that wouldn’t quite register in Rembrandt’s mind. Behind them, she spotted Mercy and Swan, both looking like they wanted to go to her but not knowing if it was their place. 

She locked eyes with Ajax. Ajax followed her gaze to Mercy and Swan, then looked back to her and gave a small nod, because Ajax had been her ride or die from the start and always knew exactly what she needed if she could just be brave enough to admit she needed anything at all. 

Ajax stood aside. Rembrandt darted past Cleon, grabbed Mercy by the collar, and dragged her into the bathroom.

The second the door was closed, Rembrandt collapsed to the floor, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as she leaned back against the side of the tub. Mercy knelt in front of her. 

“What the hell was that?!” Mercy whisper-yelled. “You just like completely blacked out or something!”

“Yeah,” Rembrandt said, still trying to calm her labored breathing, “that’s been happening.”

“For how long?! Does Ajax know? Does Cleon?”

“Ajax knows. No one else does so please, for the love of god, do not fucking tell anyone,” Rembrandt begged. Mercy hesitated. Rembrandt dropped her hands so she could look the girl in the eyes. “Mercy!”

“I won’t! I won’t. Promise.” Mercy extended a hand and waited for Rembrandt to take it. “Rembrandt, we’re worried about you.”

Rembrandt shook her head. “No. Not now. Did you know about this? Did they tell you?”

“I-I… Yeah, they let me know first.”

“The one that pushed me, Cleon didn’t…?”

“No, it wasn't Cleon who did it. The guy’s own gang put a hit out on him for what he did. I guess he’s the one that planned all of it.”

“Why do they want us to choose what happens to the rest of them?”

Mercy hesitated again. She took a deep breath. “Swan says Cleon wants you to feel in control again. Says she thinks it’ll help.”

In control. In control. Rembrandt hadn’t been in control of jack fucking shit since the night they lost Fox.

Mercy continued, “I don’t know. They know you better than I do. Look, you don’t have to face any of the bitches that jumped us. Whatever we tell Cleon and Masai, we won't have to actually, y’know, carry it out.”

“What did you say?”

“You will not look at me the same way if you hear what I said,” Mercy admitted, and it looked like her heart broke a little doing it. 

All Rembrandt could say was, “You sound like Ajax.”

“Ajax said I shouldn’t be called Mercy anymore after she heard it.” 

“What the actual fuck.”

“She’s rubbing off on me. What can I say.”

“Oh, god.” Rembrandt raked her hands through her hair. “Okay. I think I’m ready to go back out.”

“Why don’t you take a minute? You look a little… green.”

“I’m fine. Can you give me a hand? I got my knee in a weird position.” 

A very weird and very bad position that left her leg in screaming hot pain, now that she was grounded enough to feel it. Mercy helped her to her feet and waited for her to stretch some of the pain out before following her back into the kitchen. Cleon and Masai were in the corner, embroiled in a heated and hushed conversation. Swan and Ajax looked like they’d just gotten out of one much the same and now stood closer together than Rembrandt had seen them in a long time, both staring sullenly at their feet. When Rembrandt walked out, Cochise immediately took notice of how she favored her injured leg.

“Rembrandt, you’re limping again,” the soldier said.

She shut it down. “I bumped my knee. I’m okay. Cleon?”

Cleon and Masai were before her in the blink of an eye. “You figure out what you want to do?”

“Jump them out. All of them that were in Brooklyn that night. And blacklist them so hard they’ll never be able to step foot off Staten Island again,” Rembrandt said decisively. “But don’t… don’t kill anyone.” 

Cleon didn’t flinch. Cleon never flinched. Years and years of gang life had broken that instinct out of her, but there was a set to her jaw and a glint in her eye that made it clear it would’ve hurt less if Rembrandt had simply decked her in the face. Rembrandt wanted to take back her last sentence the moment she saw that look because that was not a look Cleon ever got and it was not one Rembrandt ever wanted to see again. 

Cleon said, “Done.” 

There was a little more conversation after that, a few details that had to be worked out between the leaders. Thankfully, Rembrandt didn’t have to be a part of it. She got to sit on the couch between Ajax and Mercy and assure Cochise over and over again that yes she was wearing the knee brace - a lie - and yes she was doing everything in the physical therapy plan - a partial lie. 

Once the Riffs finally left, she took the chance to lock herself in the bathroom and puke until there was nothing left in her system.

----

If giving Rembrandt the final say in retribution against the Princes was Cleon’s way of letting her feel in control again, it only lasted for that one night. 

“Why is Mercy still tagging instead of me!” Rembrandt demanded as Cleon sat beside her on the couch. 

“Because Cochise doesn’t think it’s safe for you to try that kind of physical activity yet and neither do I,” Cleon said. Rembrandt could hear in her voice exactly how close she was to the end of her patience.

“But I’m fine now. My knee barely hurts anymore and I can put my arm above my head again. See?”

“I can see that you are in extreme pain doing that, so stop before you make it worse. I told you, it’s just for now.”

“When is ‘just for now’ gonna end?”

“You can’t expect to be completely healed after a few weeks,” Cleon said, her tone becoming more clipped and frustrated. 

“But I’m fine!”

Cleon snapped. “Do you think I haven’t noticed you blacking out lately!” she exclaimed. It wasn’t angry. It was… pleading. Pleading and desperate, like this was her last chance to get through to Rembrandt. “You think I haven’t noticed how you suddenly turn into a zombie whenever that night gets brought up? You think I haven’t noticed how Ajax has to constantly bring you back to reality? You got hurt, Rembrandt. Badly hurt. We almost lost you that night and I’m trying to make sure we don’t lose you now! You’re not tagging until you’re completely healed. I don’t care if it takes a month or a whole fucking year. That’s final. Do you understand?”

Rembrandt felt the familiar rise of vitriolic words rising in her throat. She was not a fighter, never had been, but Ajax and gang life had taught her a lot about different ways to lash out when she was angry. And fuck, was she angry. Angry and bitter and hurt and frustrated beyond the point of reason, but she still had the good sense to remember she was staring her leader in the face. She’d said some harsh things to the others in the past, things she wasn’t proud of when she looked back, but never to Cleon. 

So she held her tongue, nodded stiffly, and dropped it. 

That night, she laid awake in bed beside Ajax. Ajax was curled up on her side, facing the wall and snoring softly. Rembrandt reached over to rest a hand against her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, and gritted her teeth. 

Bleeding out on the couch. Indistinct voices filling the room. Ajax beside her, tears in her eyes, promising everything was going to be alright-

As quietly as she could, Rembrandt got out of bed and went to the fire escape. 

She sat just outside the window, one leg still in the apartment as she lit a cigarette. She watched the smoke curl up and away from her in the chilly night air.

Cold air in her lungs. Hot blood pooling around her.

Rembrandt stood on the fire escape. Tucking her cigarette in the corner of her mouth, she put both hands on the railing and looked down at the street below. 

Rough hands on her collar. A wicked grin and wild eyes.

She could almost imagine herself laying there: unable to breathe, bleeding out and broken, as the Princes closed in around her. 

Weightlessness. Breaking glass. Mercy screaming.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She didn’t know who she was trying to convince anymore. 

Rembrandt grabbed the edge of the stairs above her head and stepped up onto the railing. 

The night sky. Mercy. Cleon. Ajax.

Closing her eyes, she balanced on her good leg and held on with her good arm and leaned out over the edge.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. 

“Rembrandt, no!”

[delusionsofmid-daymoon]

Gotta say the sleep deprivation somehow made my gameplay experience better

SPOILERS: IF YOU CONTINUE READING THIS IS ON YOU

Here i was at 2 amish after finally beating Argument Altercation, and i also slept late last night, when i stay awake some hours more than i should i begin to get a little anxious, a little paranoid

And this somehow made the finale so much better, when the screen started to tremble and that music began the anxiety and antecipation builded up in the best way posible "oh shit oh shit they are really gonna do it, nooo i don't want eva to die, but i'm so excited to see what they did !!!"

Then the execution began, in it's beautifull animation style that was exactly like danganronpa

I love the way she turned to see the chain, and then desperally clinged to the podium

And the execution, i admit i found the running a little gooffy, but when the music picked and she fell, hoo boy !

You could feel her pain, when she sliped i let out an audible "aaagh", i just got more and more agony the longer it lasted "oh god oh god why are they dragging this out so much ?"

And eva's expressions of terror and pain, her crying as she had to stop because of the pain and almost got to the fire and then forced herself to climb again, and tozu definetely slowed the stairs down so she could reach to the top, the whole time up until that she only managed to get to the middle of the stairs

and when eva fell, the bells were such a cool and macabre touch, her death bells, "ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee", and the violin when she fell to the fire pit, it's one of those moments where the music and animation are so in sync you can't help to keep rewatching it

I admit i had a little moment of "at least it's over now"

then they showed damon, those lightless eyes, the trail of tears, the haunted look on his face, that, that hit hard

and the anxiety of the sleep deprivation made the shock much stronger, it really took the experience to another level, it was stronger than the dread i got from leon's execution, my favorite in the og!danganronpa series

And this is the first execution guys !!! I can't wait to see the next chapters~

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 344

i have like the most mild symptoms of all time but honestly i am NOT being brave about it. im being a big baby because i hate it and think it sucks

[pepprs]

not doing good. at all

[drabbleswithdragons]

I'm allergic to so many foods there may literally be no feeding tube formula that I can have ahahaha

[ajdrawshq]

hi . i (mostly) finished the game. if u couldnt tell

[exopelagic]

okay I got some thoughts just putting these here

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2

LN x fem!leclerc reader

PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!

here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(

warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)

part 2: 6.1k words

8. i have you.

“you never told me why.” lando blurts.

the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.

he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.

“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.

“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.

“oh.”

you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.

“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“

“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.

lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.

“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”

you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.

“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.

“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.

“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.

“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.

“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.

“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.

“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”

-

9. ache.

a weight lifts off of him in vegas.

brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.

he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.

well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.

he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?

he’s in love with you. has been for a while.

the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.

he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.

he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.

you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.

“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.

“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.

“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”

you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.

“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.

“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.

“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”

lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.

“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.

“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.

you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.

“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.

“you deserve it.”

“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”

“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.

“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.

“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.

“you sure, baby?”

there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.

“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.

lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.

“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.

“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.

you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.

“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.

the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.

“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.

“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.

he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.

“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.

“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”

he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.

“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.

it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.

“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”

you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.

“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.

“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.

“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.

your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.

“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“was it worth it?”

“definitely.”

“good.”

he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.

“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.

“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*

“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.

“okay.”

he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.

“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.

the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?

“never.” it’s barely a whisper

you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

-

when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.

“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.

“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.

you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.

“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.

“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”

“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.

“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”

“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.

“don’t say it like that.” you scold.

“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.

“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.

“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.

“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”

“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”

“lando-“

“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”

“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.

“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.

you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.

i care about you.

good while it lasted.

you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.

complications.

you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.

you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.

-

you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.

he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.

the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.

i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.

when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.

“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.

“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

“what? how did you-“

“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.

“does charles… does he…?”

“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.

“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“wanna tell me what happened?”

“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.

“some other driver? oh, girl.”

“yep.”

“were you guys dating…? or?”

“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”

alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.

“have you told him that?”

“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.

“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”

“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.

“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”

you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.

“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”

“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”

-

10. pizza and pasta.

max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.

his phone buzzes.

message request from: yourusername

HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????

he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.

another message comes through.

this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.

max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.

-

lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.

he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.

there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.

lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.

“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.

somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.

“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.

“how did you get in here?”

“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”

“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.

“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.

“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.

“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.

“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”

the space between you dissipates.

“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”

“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”

“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.

“i think you like it.” he whispers.

“yeah, i really do.”

your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.

-

an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.

you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.

you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.

“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.

“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.

“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.

“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.

“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.

“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.

“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.

“never.” you coo.

-

11. daylight.

abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.

yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.

your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.

he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.

you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.

“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.

you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.

“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.

“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.

lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.

“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.

it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.

“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.

he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.

“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.

“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.

round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.

-

charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.

arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry

enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch

publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.

first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?

second question: who does he need to be nice too?

third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?

he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.

alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.

to: your number

girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!

for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE

JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…

OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?

MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????

it was nice knowing you babe.

-

you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.

you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.

“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.

“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.

“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.

“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.

“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.

“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”

charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.

charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.

“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.

“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.

“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.

“i promise.”

“and you’ll make her happy?”

“i’d do anything for her.”

your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.

“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.

“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’

you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.

“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.

“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.

“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.

“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.

“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.

you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.

you much prefer it in the light of day.

you prefer lando in the light of day, too.

yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.

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-

thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722

[gravegoer]

Take a hint. ✿ part 2

my masterlist

sevika putting up with more oblivious reader!! this time, how does she react when her subtle ways of flirting don't get to you. every move she makes seems to bounce right off your head and land back in her hands !! [short little blurb at the end for the cute ending]

After your previous encounter with Sevika, you start to see her around more than you'd like. After having a few drinks with you and playing a game of cards (which you lost), you think you could even call the woman a friend.

You dont notice it, but she's gone soft. Specifically around you. Surprisingly, she didn't make you pay her for the forsaken poker game. Even more surprisingly, it seems as if you never had to drop a coin when you're in her presence.

Wanted a drink? It's on her. Ran into her when grabbing a snack? You just earned yourself a free pastry. Grabbing a ride home in the dark? She's got your cab. (And threatened the driver)

All of this in your eyes was simply nice deeds from a nice friend. In other peoples eyes, the undercities most threatening woman had been tamed.

She insists on walking you home after an encounter at the bar with the repeated saying, "I have nothing better to do, so I guess I'll do you the favor."

She glares at anyone who even tries to look your way. She knows you're a pretty thing, but she wants you for her eyes only. Obviously, this goes unnoticed by you as her nasty looks are sent over your head.

The people in Zaun are undoubtedly curious about your relationship. In a way, it almost scares Sevika, knowing that if the wrong person knows about you, you could immediately turn into a liability.

Having said this: she tried to keep her "affections" away from prying eyes, but she couldn't help but smirk when you asked questions about her arm or her job, even Silco, seeming genuinely curious. She'll answer with a teasing remark and an almost genuine smile.

Of course she does still have her guard up around you, only having known you for a few months. But one day caused her to be more vunerable with you more than she ever has to anyone since she was a kid.

A loud thud wakes you, its the middle of the night, what the fuck could that possibly be?

You glanced at your clock, the minute hand on 35, the hour hand on—two?? It was the ripe hour of two a.m., and you couldn't get some peace and quiet in Zaun. You almost rolled over to the other side of the bed before you heard an almost silent grunt from outside.

This prompted you to sit up and grab a jacket that was resting on your nightstand, still barelegged you made your way to the front door. The door creaked as you opened it, and you jumped at the sight of Sevika, on the ground, leaning against your doorframe. "You do know it's dangerous to open your door in the middle of the night to a stranger, right?" Sevika teased.

You panicked, "Sevika! What happened—I mean, why are you— did you plan on sitting on my doorstep if I wasn't awake? You're seriously reckless!" You tugged at her arm trying to get her up.

"Slow down, I just needed a place to sit and catch my breath thats all." She grunted at your motions, stumbling up but standing nonetheless.

"Catch your breath? Are you crazy?" You catch a glimpse at the blood seeping through her shirt, "Shit— are you okay?" You led her into your house, letting her plop down onto the couch with a grunt.

You told her to stay there (not like she could move) as you went to the bathroom to grab some bandages and other miscellaneous things you assumed you needed. You barely noticed your hands trembling when you opened the cabinet. You were worried. Extremely worried. I mean, you knew her job was dangerous, but like this? Damn.

As you re-entered the living room, Sevika was perched haphazardly on your couch, barely fitting with her size. She clutched her torso, where blood stained her shirt and dripped down her arm. You hurried over to her, dropping to your knees beside her left leg to move her hand and survey the wound. "Already on your knees for me?" She let out a strained chuckle.

You rolled your eyes at the crude joke, "Will you be serious?"

She went quiet while you pulled her shirt up and started to disinfect the wound. She hissed at the slight burning, but you continued. At a particularly tender spot, she grunted and grabbed your wrist for a moment but pulled away quickly.

"How did this happen?" You questioned, less shakey now that you had her on your couch, somewhat fixed up.

"Just some enforcers, trying to mess with Silcos people. He gave me the task of getting rid of them. The usual," She stared at you her gaze shufting to the goosebumps on your bare legs.

"The usual?" You muttered to yourself.

You motioned for her to scoot forward so you could wrap the bandages all the way around her exposed (but now clean) torso. If you were looking, you'd see the way her face contorted in embarrassment. But of course, you weren't.

"So...why my doorstep? Like, why not... I dont know— Silcos?" You shrugged.

"Silco? Seriously? You think I'd go to the guy who put me in this mess over you?" She scoffed, shifting in a way that wouldn't strain her wound. Then, she brushed her hand over your leg, trying to calm the coldness with the heat of her hand.

Humming at the warmth, you asked, "So what im hearing is you like me more than your boss?"

"Well yeah? You're—" She cut herself off when she caught your gaze, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

"I should go, I need to report back to Silco." She quickly gained composure again but made no move to get up.

"Back to Silco? Sevika, I think you can wait the night. You're hurt." You unconsciously leaned into her touch, her hand still resting on your thigh.

You got up, heading to the bathroom to put your leftover supplies away; leaving no room for disagreement.

You could hear her shuffling around outside and stand up to open the bathroom door. You open it to her standing closer than you expected, leaning on the doorframe. Her flesh arm balanced just above your head, mechanical arm on her hip.

"You're too sweet on me, y'know that?" The woman questions a hint of humor in her voice.

"Well thats what friends are—" She cuts you off.

"No. No more of that friend bullshit. Do you not see what im always trying to imply here?" She was now getting irritated.

"Sevika what the hell are you talking about?" Before you can barrage her with more questions she groans and clutches her torso, head falling onto her arm.

Your demeanor instantly shifts, now putting your hands atop her mechanical arm with concern. She pushes your hands away and groans either out of pain or frustration (probably a mix of both). "Let me help you." You wrapped your arms around yourself, sighing at Sevikas' sudden outburst.

"You've done enough. We are just friends, after all. You dont need to overstep." She started walking (stumbling) towards the front door.

You followed after her in frustrated strides, faster than her limping form. Standing in front of her, you blocked her path to the door, "Are you trying to imply we are more than friends?"

"No. I just said we are just friends? Did you hear me," She spoke shortly and with an obvious temper.

"Dont be smart with me," You pointed a finger in her face.

"I've been trying to talk you up, okay? I thought you'd notice, but i guess you're just as dumb as I thought you were," She stood motionless, waiting for you to speak.

"Wait..like the guy at the bar that you said tried to get into my pants?" You cocked your head to the side, making a face.

She almost growled at you, pushing you out of the way so she could get to the door. I mean, seriously? She's going to basically confess to you, and you twiddle it down to her wanting to get in your pants? She's no better than the guy at the bar, right?

Before she can even touch the knob you pull her by the shoulder, spinning her already weak body around (something you definitely wouldn't be able to do when she's at full health) and stared up at her. "I wouldn't mind it." You said a little too confidently.

You slid your hand down her mechanical arm and held onto her forearm. "You wouldn't mind.. me trying to get into your pants?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Alright." She sighed, sliding her human hand down her face, "I just thought you knew. Since you're always doing shit like that, " She motioned with a tilt of her head to your hand on her prosthetic.

"Like what?"

"You know nobody else wants to touch my mechanical arm. Especially in the way you do." You recall all the ways you held onto it when you walked together or tapped on it languidly when you're bored.

"Well, im not scared of you, you know?" You spoke somewhat defensively.

"Yeah. I caught onto that." She grumbled.

"Can we just go sit down and talk about this?" You sighed.

Not letting you pull away, she latched her other hand onto the back of your neck and pulled your head up towards hers. She bent over ever-so-slightly to meet you in the middle and pressed her thick lips against yours.

Her mouth tasted like a burnt cigar and something bitter, but you leaned in nonetheless. Your free hand gripped onto her bicep and pulled her impossibly closer. A grunt escaped her mouth at that and you realized she was still hurt.

"I'm sorry did I hurt you—" You pulled away.

"No." She lied, trying to pull you back in.

You retaliated and giggled at her eagerness. "Can I sit you down and make you something to drink before we 'talk' about this?" You quoted yourself, knowing talking most likely wasn't needed for the next few hours.

thank you for reading :) i have to taglist yet, so pleasseee specifically, comment if you want to be on it ! for now, I'll tag the people that have commented on part 1 so far !! <3 im slightly new to this, so support, tips, and reuqests are ALWAYSSS appreciated

@lesbo-tuliplvrr @luvmei

and i hope you guys like this as much as i did <33 thank youuu kissessss

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.2

pt1 here

love and deepspace

characters: Rafayel, Xavier

Rafayel

Stubborn, petty, and a total brat are the words that perfectly describe Rafayel during arguments. It doesn’t help that you’re as stubborn as he is, but most of the time you manage to find the middle ground. Except tonight. Tonight is the night you got fed up with his attitude and the argument it caused was just awful. For an hour, both of you argued something so stupid but he wasn’t backing down and at this point, it was getting so tiring you just wanted to put an end to this.

“You know what” You throw your hands in the air “I’m done. I’m going to sleep”

Rafayel scoffed muttering something about you running away from an argument under his breath. However, his face dropped when he saw you entering the living room with a pillow and a blanket. He rushed to you with such an offended look.

“Excuse me?”

“What?” You barked at him.

“Wha- seriously? what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Child’s tantrum, honestly”

You stopped making the bed on the couch and just looked at him unimpressed. The gesture made Rafayel scoff once again and retreat from you.

“You want to be petty? be my guest. I’m going to sleep in our room, in our bed”

With that, he left you and slammed his door on his way.

“Such a child” you mutter and lay down on the couch, too agitated to sleep, replaying the argument in your mind over and over. You both said horrible things to each other and you wanted to run to him and apologize, but what hurt more than an argument is how he left you here and he, himself, went to sleep. After hours of beating yourself up for tonight’s events, you finally fell asleep not knowing Rafayel was staring at the ceiling of the bedroom feeling just as guilty if not more. Also, he hates to admit it, but he cannot sleep without you, so with a defeated sigh he made a decision.

Sunlight stirs you awake in the morning. Your neck is sore from an uncomfortable position on the couch. With a groan, you turn around and open your eyes to be startled by a purple ball right into your face. Blinking, to adjust your eyesight you realise it’s Rafayel’s head. He’s sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the couch and a blanket around his shoulders.

“You have to be kidding me” you mutter with disbelief “Rafayel”

He groaned and rubbed his eyes as he opened them.

“Oh, hi”

You just look at him dumbfounded before bursting out laughing.

“Shut up, will you?” He grumbled.

“Oh my god, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He stayed silent and got up from the floor, with you following his suit.

“To what? to admit you were right? kind of… I mean you were wrong in some aspects… okay, fine you were right… and what else? to admit I couldn’t sleep without you?” He avoided your eyes and you couldn’t miss the blush spreading on his cheeks “Because I couldn’t… sleep without you, I mean”

You pinch his cheek before kissing him making his already red face even more red.

“I’m sorry too”

He quickly regained his composure walking past you.

“Yeah, yeah… c’mon let’s make breakfast”

And you follow him with a chuckle.

Xavier

You have to try really hard to have an argument with Xavier. Both of you are in perfect sync and hardly ever disagree with each other. Therefore, arguments are rare. But not nonexistent. Take tonight, for example. Xavier doesn’t need shouting and screaming to get his point through. His face devoid of any expression and cold voice make good enough job. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re on fire, and his calm nature, reassuring other times, only fuels your fire. Finally, you make the decision that you don’t want to spend any more time with him tonight… or until you calm down. So you take your blanket and set up a makeshift bed on the couch.

Xavier doesn’t pay you any mind. He didn’t even notice you reentering the living room as he started playing his video game to unwind from the previous argument. An hour passes, then another. At last, he’s had enough and turned off the video game you’ve been cursing in your mind past hour. He expects you to be asleep in your room so imagine his confusion when he sees you on the couch, still not asleep. Xavier then shrugs before going to the bedroom and coming back with his pajamas on.

“Move” he says when he walks up to you.

You turn to him.

“What?”

“Move, I’m sleepy”

“Then go to sleep”

“I’m trying to, but you won’t move” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. After a moment of hesitation, you move to make room for him. He silently slides under the blanket and since the couch is too small for both of you, he positions you in a way that you’re lying on top of him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I couldn’t sleep”

His hand started to caress the back of your head.

“Because you’re mad at me?”

“Because I’m mad at you”

A sigh escapes his lips.

“I didn’t mean… whatever I said. I don’t know, I don’t even remember what I said”

That made you giggle.

“Neither do I. But I’m sorry… for what I said”

“Yeah, me too”

You both stay silent after that. His hand stops caressing you after a while.

“We can go to bed if you want to”

You suggest but a soft snore Xavier releases lets you know that it won’t happen, so you just accept your fate.

[giannaln4]

Sleep

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You always had a hard time falling asleep, but it seems like all you need is Lando to give you a little help. (1k words)

warnings: language, fluff

a/n: this is just a little something i wrote when, of course, i couldn't fall asleep. i hope you like it! also, i don't know why these are so short; i'm really trying to write longer fics. anyway, please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

You were not sure how long it had been, but it felt like you had been tossing and turning for hours. You opened your eyes for a moment to make sure it was still dark outside, letting out a sigh of relief when you confirmed it was.

You forced your eyes closed again, getting closer to your boyfriend, hoping his warmth would relax you enough to make you fall asleep. But, of course, that wasn’t the case.

It was like this sometimes—actually more often than not. You never had the best relationship with sleep, your mind forcing you to stay wide awake until the sun was peeking through your window.

You opened your eyes again, finding the clock that rested on your nightstand. 2:40 AM. “Fuck,” you thought to yourself. Slowly, you started to kick the covers and get off the bed. You tried to be as quiet as possible, knowing you couldn’t wake up your boyfriend. You knew how exhausting it was to travel as much as he did, as well as how much his job wore him down; he needed to sleep.

You looked back at your bed before carefully opening the door, admiring how peaceful and pretty Lando looked as he slept, his breathing slow and calm. Then, you finally exited the room and closed the door behind you.

A cup of tea always made you feel better, even if it didn't necessarily help you sleep. You hoped it would happen tonight, though.

As you gathered everything you needed for it, your mind started to wander. A lot of things flooded your mind, but mainly what you needed to do before leaving for the next race, mentally making a list of what you had to pack.

You were so distracted that you didn't notice the milk carton falling off the counter until you heard the loud noise it made when it hit the ground. Although the noise wasn't particularly loud, the silence in your shared apartment was so intense that even the sound of a hairpin falling could be deafening. You quickly bent down to pick it up, stopping it from spilling completely.

Before finding something to clean up with, you stayed still for a moment, looking back at the hallway and mentally praying you didn't wake Lando up. When you didn’t hear anything, you proceeded to clean up the mess, relieved that you didn’t disturb his sleep.

You continued preparing your tea, and when you were finally done, you took a sip to make sure it was good enough. It wasn’t, but you didn’t feel like starting from scratch, so you just made your way to the couch. 

A few minutes went by, and you were just scrolling on TikTok, your hand still holding the hot cup of tea as you occasionally took little sips. That was something you were used to doing this late at night, killing time until your body was tired enough to go back to bed. You looked at the time again, sighing loudly at the fact that you weren’t as tired as you hoped you would be.

“Hey,” you heard behind you, pulling your attention away from your phone. You put the mug down and turned around, spotting a sleepy Lando walking towards you, his eyes tired as he yawned.

"Hi, baby,” you whispered, as if speaking any louder would scare away the sleep he still had. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” “No, you didn’t. I just… I tried to reach for you, but you weren’t there.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled softly at you, sitting next to you and making you scoot over. He was aware of your sleeping issues, so he knew what this was about. “Can’t sleep?” You shook your head as you remembered the endless tossing and turning before getting up. “No, it’s one of those nights again.”

“Everything okay?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to fall asleep... I don’t know; I guess I was hoping the tea would help,” you answered, signalling the mug now resting on the coffee table.

“Can I?” He asked as he reached for it, but you quickly shook your head.

“It’s not very good.” Giggling a little, he took it anyway and took a small sip. He didn’t want to make you feel bad about your tea skills, but his face gave it away. “Told you.”

He laughed again, making you smile “I’ve had worse.”

“I really doubt it.” 

“Oh, believe me, you’ve gotten better.” 

You paid attention to how he leaned back on the couch, his hands pulling you to his lap and embracing you. You relaxed into his arms, feeling at ease for the first time that night.

“You need to sleep.”

“I know, but so do you.” He just hummed in response as he caressed your back. “I’m serious, Lando; you need to rest as much as you can before going to Silverstone. I’ll be okay.”

“I care more about you getting enough rest.” His words warmed your heart, but you really needed him to go back to sleep.

“Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done here?”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“Lando-” You started, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit, yeah?” You knew there was no point in arguing with him, so you just nodded and hugged him back. Your head was on his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat; your mind focused on it as if it were your favourite sound in the world.

You didn’t notice at first, but the way your breathing was syncing with his made you fall into a much calmer state. So much so that you started to fall asleep in his arms. He, however, was well aware of this. His hands kept soothing the skin under your sleeping shirt until he felt you completely drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally.

He waited just a few more minutes until he was sure he wouldn't wake you up. Slowly, he started getting up, trying to be as careful as he could as he carried you to your room.

Once he got there, he laid you down in bed, happy that his plan had worked. He laid next to you and pulled you into him again, kissing your temple softly with a smile. “Good night, baby,” he whispered, falling asleep almost immediately.

[pucksandpower]

Insomniac

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: you’re tired of falling asleep in an empty bed due to your workaholic husband’s sleepless nights

Based on this request

You rub your eyes and blink a few times, adjusting to the soft glow of the lamp on the end table as you lift your head from the couch cushion.

2:17 AM.

Again.

This makes the fifth night in a row that you’ve fallen asleep alone on the living room sofa, having given up on the hope of Toto joining you in your shared bed upstairs. The cashmere blanket wrapped around your legs does little to ward off the chill of the night, and you suppress a shiver as you sit up.

With a sigh, you slide out from under the afghan, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet as you quietly make your way out of the living room and down the hall. The sliver of light peeking out from underneath the closed door of the study confirms your suspicions — Toto is still awake, still working at this ungodly hour.

Ever since the news broke that Lewis would be leaving Mercedes for Ferrari at the end of the season, Toto has been unable to relax. He barely sleeps, poring over stats and projections deep into the night as he tries in vain to figure out how to move forward.

You know he feels responsible — for building the team into what it is, for leading it to seven constructors’ titles, for creating an environment where Lewis could thrive. Letting him go feels like a monumental failure in Toto’s eyes, even though rationally there was nothing else to be done. Lewis’ mind was made up.

But knowing how reasonable a decision it was does nothing to quiet the ceaseless chatter of Toto’s anxious thoughts. He second guesses himself constantly, running through hypotheticals and what-ifs over and over.

What if he had offered more money? More freedom? What if he had anticipated Lewis’ wandering eyes and somehow convinced him to stay? But you know better than anyone that his hands were tied — Mercedes’ board of directors simply would not cooperate with his suggestions.

You understand Toto’s anguish, but his sleepless agonizing is starting to take a toll. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than ever, and the weight of his responsibilities hangs heavily from his slumped shoulders. His embraces are no longer as warm, his kisses no longer as tender. He retreats into his own head, consumed by doubts and regrets, and you feel him slipping away day by day.

Enough is enough, you decide. If Toto won’t take care of himself, then you will have to take matters into your own hands.

You tiptoe to the kitchen and quietly replace Toto’s usual late-night dark roast with decaf. It won’t stop him from working, but at least it won’t add fuel to the fire of his racing thoughts.

After preparing for bed yourself, you head down the hall, suppressing a shiver as your bare feet meet the cool wood floors. Pausing outside the study door, you turn the thermostat down just a couple degrees. It’s a subtle change, but you know Toto will notice, and it just might make him long for the warmth of your shared bed.

Taking a breath, you gently rap your knuckles against the door and let yourself in. Toto is exactly where you expected, hunched over his desk with his brows furrowed, staring fixedly at his laptop screen.

“Hey,” you say softly so as not to startle him. “It’s getting pretty late, I’m going to head to bed.”

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs absently, barely glancing up.

You stifle a yawn, stretching your arms over your head. “Are you coming?” You ask hopefully.

“In a bit,” Toto mumbles. “I just need to finish this analysis.”

You sigh, walking over to him and sliding your arms around his shoulders. “Toto, please,” you plead, nuzzling into his neck. “Come to bed. You need to rest.”

He reaches up to give your hand a quick, distracted pat. “Soon, liebling. I promise.”

Accepting that you won’t sway him now, you kiss his stubbly cheek and head for the door. “Don’t stay up too much longer,” you implore, then make your way back down the hall.

Once in your bedroom, you go through your regular bedtime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face. But instead of climbing into your big empty bed, you find yourself wandering further down the hall to the nursery.

Pushing open the door, you pause to gaze at your sleeping infant daughter in her crib, her little chest rising and falling with soft even breaths. The corner of the room holds a cozy cushioned rocking chair, and you sink down into it with a yawn, the lateness of the hour finally catching up to you. Your eyes drift closed as you let the gentle motion lull you towards sleep.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel strong arms sliding under your knees and behind your back, lifting you from the chair. You let out a soft murmur, still more asleep than awake, as Toto carries you from the nursery. Resting your head against his chest, you breathe in his familiar scent as he brings you down the hall to your bedroom.

Gently, he lays you down on your bed, brushing a wisp of hair back from your face as he pulls the covers up around you. Through bleary eyes, you see him cross to the dresser and begin shedding his clothes, swapping his button-down and slacks for a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Finally, he climbs in beside you with a weary sigh, and you immediately nestle against him, seeking his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his arms encircle you.

You lift your head to meet his tired blue eyes. “It’s okay,” you murmur. “I know this has been hard for you.”

He shakes his head slightly. “That’s no excuse. You shouldn’t have to deal with my restlessness.”

You reach up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, remember?” You remind him gently. “For better or worse.”

The corners of his mouth twitch in a hint of a smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if it’s come up,” you tease.

He gives you a playful little squeeze. “Well I do. So much.” His voice grows more serious then. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m thankful for you every day.”

You grin and snuggle impossibly closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Wolff.”

His low chuckle rumbles pleasantly against your cheek. “I mean it though. You’re my rock. My safe place. With everything going on ...” He trails off with a heavy exhale.

Reaching for his hand, you lace your fingers through his and give a supportive squeeze. “I know. But it’s going to be okay. Mercedes will find their way again, with you leading the charge. You’re the heart and soul of this team, Toto. You brought them this far, and you’ll bring them even further.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” he admits softly. “I just hope I can live up to it.”

“You will,” you say without hesitation. “You’re the most driven, passionate person I know. Your commitment is unmatched. If anyone can navigate these changes, it’s you.”

Toto is quiet for a moment, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says finally. “Just … thank you. For believing in me. For supporting me. For loving me, even when I’m being a stubborn arschloch.”

You grin. “Well, you’re my stubborn arschloch. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He laughs then, the sound warm and rich, and you feel some of the tension leave his body.

“No more working until sunrise though, okay?” You implore, threading your fingers through his hair. “You need to take care of yourself too.”

He nods, eyes shining with affection. “Okay. I promise.”

Satisfied, you nestle against his chest once more, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His lips find the top of your head in a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So very much.”

You smile softly, already drifting towards sleep in the safety of his arms.

“I love you too,” you whisper. And with a contented sigh, you surrender to the pull of peaceful slumber, the two of you wrapped up in each other as you should be.

No more empty beds or sleepless nights. Just the comforting nearness of the man you love.

Your partner.

Your home.