#ghost… when i catch you… 💔

[comfortless]

hi sorry that ask about König having a tight knit friend group was adorable and now I need to inject it with angst, imagine him being the last one of the group to be unmarried/single. his friends kids even ask if uncle Noni (they couldn't pronounce König when they were babies and now it's stuck) is ever gonna have kids :c

The thought of him just feeling like an eternal third wheel..? Further confirmation of what he expects: that something must be terribly wrong with him for him to be so alone when everyone around him just… isn’t. He glosses over the facts that his social media accounts are mainly empty (when he has them active at all), that in social gatherings he makes no attempt to approach a new face, that he’s never been one to participate in dating apps or meet-ups for blind dates. It’s not him: it’s either everyone else or the god he prayed to as a boy has turned their back on him entirely.

Imagine if the friends he has have all met their partners and spouses by chance or have been highschool sweethearts, too… He feels like some higher power has deemed him unworthy of having some perfect person delivered to him in a twist of fate like they have, and it’s something that he ruminates on often.

The bitterness eats away at him a lot, but he wants to be happy for the people he cares about. Likes thinking that he’s somehow better than other men, because he doesn’t make an attempt to flirt with his pal’s wife (even if he’s probably thought of her in ways he shouldn’t and often, too). They do their best to tone down the PDA around him, but even the subtle glances, whispers behind palms, and brushes of their hands leave König feeling worse each time he’s around them. His friend gets to go home and make love to the woman he loves: König gets his lonely hand, a porn video, and a horrible envy burning in his gut for another night.

It lessens a bit when they have children. König plays the role of a good ‘uncle’: carries the kid(s) on his shoulders when they want to feel real tall, lets them chase him with sticks or their toy trucks, pretends to be a big hungry wolf when they wanna play tag — he’s good with children! He likes spending time with them, and it’s a good distraction from the lovestruck stares their parents are giving to each other.

But when they start asking Noni why he doesn’t have a girlfriend or children of his own, he has to bite his tongue and tell them some sappy shit he doesn’t even truly believe: that he’s waiting for the right girl to come along to marry, that he wants to spend time with them before they’re older and forget all about him.

The wife is sympathetic and shushes them, telling them it’s rude to ask questions like that. König tries his best to brush it off when she pats his shoulder and gives him an apologetic pout.

Not that his heart is in a flurry because she defended him from children of all things, not at all. As good of a man he knows his friend to be, König is certain he could be even better to her and her kid(s).

[trashytracktales]

I need lando ANGST. Make me cry! But also smut! Goshhhh I need it. Something like they’ve been distancing each other and things have been so tense and one day lando catches reader getting herself off so he says ‘if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.’ And then he ruins here. But lots of angst in the beginning. Ty I love you xx

Endings, beginnings | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Well. I was sobbing while writing this. Hope you're proud of yourself 💔

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𐙚 summary ──── They’re at a breaking point in their relationship, their stubbornness and jealousy pushing them so close to the edge. After agreeing to distance each other during an exhausting triple header, Lando returns home unexpectedly to find her in his apartment, trying to cope with his absence.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, angst, smut, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, descriptive language, masturbation, oral & fingering ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, potential relationship breakdown.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── This is my 10th work ayeee! Thank you guys so much for investing your time into reading my silly little stories, and for trusting me enough to bring your requests to life. I appreciate you a lot 🤍🎀

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IT'S LATE. THE kind of hour that turns Monaco into a still painting, muted and hollow, yet as breathtaking as ever.

Lando isn’t supposed to be home yet. The plan was to stay in Brazil for a couple more days after the race, but plans change when you're a professional overthinker. Somewhere between the chaos of three back-to-back races, he couldn’t stand the thought of another night in a hotel.

He needed to be in his own space so he could think.

The elevator ride to his floor seems like going on forever, his suitcase dragging heavily behind him, its wheels scratching aggressively against the polished floors the second he gets out of it. He’s expecting silence; an empty apartment, untouched, heavy with the ghosts of their last argument. But when he opens the door, the faint smell of her perfume hits him hard across the face, and his heart tightens.

His living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a scented candle casting long shadows on the walls. A throw blanket is draped over the couch, and a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.

And then he sees her.

She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Its sleeves cover her hands as she hugs her knees to her chest, her face partially hidden in the dim light of the room. Her hair is a little messy, and there’s a redness to her eyes that tells him she hasn’t been sleeping well — he knows he shouldn't, but he's glad he isn't the only one losing sleep over this. On a deeper level, it means they both care enough to let it consume them.

So, it has to count for something, right?

For a moment, he just stands there, staring. Then, the words spill out before he can stop them, or think of something else to ask, “Why are you here?”

Her head snaps toward him, her wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and guilt. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place.

She straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Lan…” she blinks in amazement, her voice barely audible.

“I just asked you a question,” he says, sharper than he initially intended.

He's not usually like this. But considering how they left things before he had to go, Lando is entitled to ask questions. It was her suggestion to separate, and finding her here only messes with his head more.

“I… know. I'm sorry,” she looks away, her fingers tugging at the hem of the hoodie. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” his suitcase thuds against the floor while he fixes his eyes on her. “Why are you in my apartment? We said we’d take some time apart.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively, but her voice remains the same as he knows it — soothing, carrying so much tenderness that it could stop wars. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lando exhales harshly, nodding while dragging a hand through his curls. “We agreed on space, remember?” he insists, “You can’t just show up here like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t—show up,” she snaps, her tone suddenly sharper. “I’ve been here for a while. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon,” she repeats.

“Okay, then. Let me get this straight. You're here, but you don’t answer my texts anymore,” he fires back. “Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn't for me.”

“I was going to,” she retorts, standing now, the oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.

Lando takes a step forward, his hands on his hips. “I don't understand you. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Space. Time. A chance to figure out if we even work anymore.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “I wanted to figure us out, not pretend we don’t exist.”

Lando's voice rises, his frustration spilling over, “You think I’m pretending? I’m doing what I thought you wanted! Because every time we’re together, we just end up—”

“Fighting,” she finishes bitterly. “Yeah, I know. Do you think I enjoy feeling like this all the time?”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I don’t know what to think or do anymore.”

They stand there in silence, the weight of their shared frustration pressing down on them. She sits back down on the couch, clasping her hands on the edge of it.

When she finally speaks again, her voice cracks. “I don't want to fight, Lando. I’ve been staying here because I couldn’t be in my own place. Everywhere I looked, I saw you. I thought maybe if I stayed here, it would make sense to feel your presence, because it's your place.”

Lando’s jaw tightens as he lets her words sink in. The sight of her, wearing his clothes with tears in her eyes makes his chest ache. He wants to wrap himself around her and make sure nothing will ever hurt her again, but the ego works a double shift tonight.

Still, “I'm not mad that you're here,” he clarifies. “But why didn’t you tell me?” asks Lando quietly.

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” she whispers. “I planned to leave before you… Well, it doesn't matter now.”

“See, that right there is the fucking problem. Of course it matters! Why wouldn't—”

“Because!” her firm voice interrupts him. “We keep hurting each other, and I honestly don’t think we'll ever stop. You’re stubborn and selfish, and I’m jealous, and we both jump to the worst conclusions about each other all the fucking time.”

Lando sighs, “Right,” he says after a pause, his voice laced with guilt. “I am stubborn and selfish,” he agrees, “I get angry too fast. Is that it? And you—you think I’m always looking for a reason to leave.”

Her breath catches as she looks down at a random point on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He steps much closer, his voice firm. “No. I’m not. But you make it so damn hard to stay sometimes.”

He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. He's aware that she's not the only one to blame for the situation that they're in, but at the moment, he's making it seem that way. He can't look at her hurt expression, so Lando closes his eyes for a second, a long silence settling in the distance dug so deeply between them.

She continues to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Yeah, well, you make it hard to trust you, Lando. Every time you’re away, I feel like I’m waiting for the other bomb to drop.”

He finally opens his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you want from me, hm?” he asks. “I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Her voice breaks as she replies, “I don't have any expectations left. I just want to stop feeling like I’m losing you all the time.”

Lando’s face softens, the exhaustion from weeks of racing and months of fighting etched into every line. He steps closer, slowly, until he’s standing in front of her. He crouches down so they’re eye level, his expression conflicted.

Even as hurt as she is now, he is still amazed by her beauty. Gazing down at him, she spreads her legs gently so she could make more room for him in her space. However, she's doesn't dare to touch him, no matter how badly she needs to feel him, just to remind herself that he's real.

“I'm so fucking tired, baby,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Every day, especially when you're not here,” she chokes out. “But I still want to try. God, Lando, I can’t imagine not trying.”

His hands reach for hers almost instinctively, but he acts with the same hesitation, pulling back at the last second. She notices, the flicker of hurt on her face evident in the way she squeezes her eyes shut, only to erase that image from her memory.

They sit in silence for a while, the air thick with unresolved issues and the weight of everything they can’t say. He studies her, trying to think ahead, but it’s impossible when she's like this — indecisive and lost.

Finally, Lando stands up, exhaling sharply. “I need a shower,” he mutters, heading toward the bathroom without another word.

She watches him go, her heart sinking. She’s still here, but somehow, it feels like she’s further away from him than ever. All she wants to do is jump into his arms and tell him she's missed him so much these past few weeks. Tell him how much she loves him, and that she would do anything to see him happy and satisfied with their life together. But she's too far away, and if she doesn't jump high enough, she could find herself free-falling, with no one to catch her on the other side. And that's too much of a risk, even for her.

When Lando comes back, his hair damp and his expression unreadable, she’s standing by the window, looking out at the city lights.

She doesn’t turn when he approaches, but she speaks softly, her voice small. “Do you even want me here?”

Lando freezes, her question cutting deeper than he expects. After a long pause, he answers, his voice low. “Of course,” he says. “But I honestly don’t think it's a good idea.”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah…” the girl nods slowly. “I just—Lando. I can’t keep doing this if I’m the only one who believes we can make it.”

Lando nods. “Thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore,” he says honestly, his voice steady.

A simple truth that neither of them wants to acknowledge. But even as the words hang in the air, neither of them moves to leave. Because for all the pain, there’s still something tethering them together — something they’re both terrified to lose.

“I’ll take the couch,” he finally says, tugging the throw blanket off the armrest. His voice is flat, drained of the emotion that had filled it earlier.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“You can have the bed,” he clarifies, avoiding her gaze as he starts arranging the blanket. “It’s late. We’re both tired, and this… we can’t fix this tonight. We should rest and talk it out in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to protest, the words forming instinctively, but then she stops herself. He looks so tired, not just physically but emotionally. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knows so well. He’s trying to create the space she's been asking for — not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, her voice small. Defeated. Once again.

At that, Lando turns to meet her eyes, his expression serious, almost distant. It’s a side of him she doesn’t see often, the version of Lando that’s careful and guarded. She hates it, hates the way it makes her feel like a stranger to him. But mostly, she hates that she’s the one who’s brought this out in him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a finality that makes her stomach churn.

Alright then.

“'Night,” she replies, walking past him, their arms touching lightly.

She retreats to his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. The familiar scent of him — clean, musky, intoxicating but soothing, grounding her with its quiet presence and making her feel more at home than ever — wraps around her as she crawls into the bed they’ve shared so many times before. But it feels different now, colder, emptier. Foreign, somehow.

For a stupid, silly moment, she lets herself believe that things will be okay in the morning. That they’ll talk, really talk, and find a way back to each other. She clings to that thought as she stares up at the ceiling, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't shake the feeling that this is it.

Neither of them sleeps for hours after that.

IT'S FOUR IN the morning when Lando lies on the couch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling as his thoughts race. He can hear the faint creak of the bed when she shifts, knowing she's not asleep, either, and it tugs at something deep inside him. He’s never been good at leaving things unfinished, and this is no different.

He pushes himself up from the couch for what feels like the hundredth time, his fingers curling and uncurling in frustration.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come home.

Maybe this is exactly why they need space, because when they're in each other's proximity, he simply can't think straight. Especially when she's just a few feet away, separated by only a simple door.

A door that masks the sounds of her soft cry.

Then, he hears the same faint sound, broken, but unmistakable. It cuts through his doubts like a knife through butter, sending a sharp pang of guilt and something deeper, a lot darker, straight to his chest. He hesitates for only a moment before moving toward the bedroom, his steps careful, almost hesitant. His hand hovers over the door, his heart pounding against his ribs as he takes a deep breath in.

Lando knocks softly, his voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the apartment. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing.

He knocks again, his jaw tightening.

The silence presses against him, thick and suffocating, until he can’t take it anymore. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes adjust to the dim light.

She’s sprawled on his bed, the sheets tangled around her hips, one hand clenched in the fabric while the other moves between her thighs. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted in soft, shaky gasps, and her eyes are squeezed shut like she’s trying to block out the rest of the world.

His throat goes dry, his emotions colliding in a chaotic storm of shock, desire, and something dangerously close to anger. Not anger at her — it never is — but at the situation, at the rift between them that’s left her seeking comfort this way. And at himself, for not being able to fix it.

He should walk away. He knows he should. But instead, he steps into the room, his movements slow and calculated as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching her intently.

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment, she looks utterly petrified. Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as she scrambles to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she fumbles for words.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you,” says Lando, his voice low and rough.

“You scared the shit out of me, Lando,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I thought you were…”

Asleep.

“And I thought you were crying,” he says, wetting his lips. “Well, I was right in a way.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and she looks away, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. He hates the way she shrinks under his gaze, but he can’t stop himself from taking another step forward. His jaw tightens again. He doesn’t know what to say or do, circling back to the same feeling.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, either — hurt, anger, longing?

So much lust.

The silence stretches between them until it’s almost unbearable. And then, finally, she moves, swinging her legs off the bed like she’s about to leave.

But he doesn’t let her.

His hand shoots out, grabbing her ankle and tugging her back toward the edge of the bed. Her gasp echoes in the quiet room, her wide eyes locked on his as he steps between her legs, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky, a mix of uncertainty and... hope that she already knows the answer.

“Fuck if I know,” he admits. His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart again, and he drops to his knees in front of her. “But I can’t just… I can’t leave you like this.”

“Baby,” she breathes, her tone caught between a plea and a warning.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Please. I can't take this shit anymore.”

At the sound of his pleading, she reaches out, her fingers threading through his hair as her breath hitches. It’s all the permission he needs to press his lips to her warm entrance, soft and tentative at first, but when she arches into him, her body trembling beneath his touch, something inside him snaps.

Lando doesn’t hesitate once she gives in, her fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs tremble against his shoulders. His hands grip her legs, his touch firm but reverent, holding her open for him like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

The first swipe of his tongue over her slit is slow and deliberate, tasting her in a way that makes her breath hitch. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shockwave through her that has her head falling back against the mattress.

“Lan…do,” her voice breaks on his name, a soft moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Always so sweet for me, love,” he exhales heavily, her scent intoxicating.

Lando's grip on her thighs tightens as he pulls her closer, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling her clit and flicking in a rhythm that makes her toes curl. The erotic sounds from between her legs make her close her eyes in pleasure, her pussy tightening around him with each intentional stroke of his tongue. He’s thorough, so meticulous, as though he’s trying to commit every whimper and every twitch of her body to memory.

“That's so good, Lan. Feels so good,” she lets out a string of moans, her eyes rolling as the air gets knocked out of her lungs. “Oh, god, I've missed your mouth so much.”

She traces her hand through his hair, holding him while her hips push forward, the bridge of his nose tickling her clit so sweetly. He wants to drown in her, to lose himself in the way she responds to him, every single time.

Each gasp feels like a lifeline, tethering him to something real, something he can hold on to when everything else feels so uncertain. Her fingers curl in his hair, tugging slightly as her hips begin to move against him, chasing the friction he so willingly gives. Lando's jaw clenches at the way she’s unraveling for him, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently, as he pulls out to suck gently on her clit.

“Baby, please,” she's almost crying, her voice shaky, but still cutting through the air like a plea for salvation. “Need you… so close.”

Lando doesn’t stop. He can’t. Especially not when her legs start to tremble against him, her breathing becoming erratic as she teeters on the edge. Instead, he slides one hand from her thigh to her hip, pressing her down slightly to keep her steady while his other hand moves swiftly to where he has been tongue-fucking her. His long fingers slide gently through her wetness, curling inside as he finds the spot that makes her see stars.

She feels herself opening wider for him, then clenching harder while he adds just enough pressure to make her body tense, his tongue never ceasing its rhythm.

“Lando, I—” her words dissolve into a broken moan, and he knows she’s close.

His heart pounds in his chest as he keeps going, the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of her pussy blending so beautifully with the noise of his tongue lapping at her clit. He doesn’t care how long it takes; he’ll stay between her thighs forever if he has to. He won't move again until she falls apart beneath him. For him. Maybe then Lando will understand why he needs her so much, why the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of himself.

When she comes, it’s like the world stops from spinning. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as she cries out his name, over and over again, her release washing over her in waves. He should pull out and give her time to ride out her orgasm, but his tongue and fingers coaxing her through it, making her gasp for another breath, is sending shocks of ecstasy to his hardened cock. In his desperate attempt to relieve his pain, he rubs himself against the bed, but it is not nearly enough.

Finally, when her hands are falling limply from his hair, that's when Lando slows down his movements. He presses soft kisses against her inner thighs as he pulls back slightly, his hands gently stroking her soft legs.

“You alright?” asks Lando, his voice raw.

She looks down at him, her chest heaving as their eyes meet. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something that makes her throat tighten. His lips are swollen and glossy, his chin slick and glistening from her arousal. His breathing is as unsteady as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s just run a marathon. The sight of him like this — completely undone and yet so devastatingly composed — makes her stomach clench with need. More need.

“Mhm,” she manages, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks, while her hand involuntarily travels back between her own legs.

Lando slowly wipes the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. The motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he wants her to remember every second of her high. Then he rises to his feet, his big frame towering over her as he leans forward, bracing himself on either side of her hips. Her breath catches as he hovers above her, so beautiful and wrecked, his face so close that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

She expects Lando to kiss her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, but instead, he tilts his head and murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down her spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby,” his unfiltered voice makes her heart race in her chest. “I don’t care that we’re fighting. It doesn’t matter how tired I am,” he continues, his eyes dark and piercing as they lock onto hers. “I’ll stop anything, drop everything, just to fuck my needy girl, yeah?”

The bluntness of his words, paired with the raw intensity in his voice, leaves her momentarily speechless, the pads of her fingers collecting whatever is left from her release. She whimpers softly, her lips parting again as she brings her fingers to his, pushing inside his mouth while watching his pupils dilating. Lando sucks on them with the same thirst as earlier, biting softly when she tires to pull out. At that, something inside her snaps. She surges up, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, slick with the taste of her still lingering there, and she can’t help the way she moans into his mouth. He groans in response, deep and guttural, as his tongue slides between her lips, claiming her in a way that makes her stomach flip.

It feels like fire and desperation, like he’s trying to pour all of his frustration into one single kiss. When his tongue moves against hers, she whimpers, the sensation achingly familiar yet entirely overwhelming. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s consuming her from the inside out, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Lan,” she moans into his mouth, “Please…”

Her pleading seem to break something in him. Lando pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his lips curling into a slow, crooked grin, making her realize how bad she's missed seeing it. There’s something tender yet profoundly sad in his expression, though, a quiet heartbreak that makes her chest burn.

“Please, what? Hm, what do you need?” he murmurs, his hand tracing a soft, reverent path down her body.

His fingers graze her collarbone, her ribs, her hip, each touch filled with a tenderness that feels almost out of place amidst the heat between them. But she doesn’t care about the sadness or the hesitation. Not right now. She arches into his touch, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she's whispering nonsense, too drunk on him to make more sense than that.

Lando’s breath mingles with hers, his lips brushing hers in the faintest of kisses as he whispers, “You aching for me, baby?”

Her nod is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels it, and his hand slips down to her hip, grounding her. The weight of his touch is familiar, comforting even, and it sends a tremor through her body that she doesn’t try to hide.

“Hurts so bad,” she admits, her voice cracking as her eyes meet his.

“I know,” he nods slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I me make it better?”

“Always.”

He presses his lips to hers fully now, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a balm against the ache between them. It starts soft, tentative, as if they’re testing the waters, but quickly grows deeper. His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, and she opens for him, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with all the longing, irritation, and so much love that he’s been holding back.

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of her shirt — his shirt — and pushing it up, exposing her bare skin. She gasps as his palms graze her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through her veins.

Lando pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head, his eyes darkening as he takes her in. “My beautiful baby,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself that she still belongs to him and vice versa.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He helps her, pulling it off in one fluid motion before pressing his chest against hers, their bare skin meeting in a way that feels like coming back home after a long, tiring trip.

They move together like this, slowly shedding the layers between them until there’s nothing left but their bodies and the weight of everything they've done wrong.

He lowers her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he settles between her legs. The warmth of his body, the solidity of him, makes her feel anchored, even as the storm inside her threatens to consume her. And when he enters her, it’s heaven, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her. She moans, her hands flying to his shoulders as he stretches her, filling her with his perfect length. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as they both adjust to his size.

“Remember how easy it used to be?” he whispers.

She nods while his lips are brushing her temple. “Yeah. I remember.”

The first thrust is painfully slow, managing to pull a soft moan from her lips. But soon enough, Lando sets a rhythm, one that feels familiar, almost nostalgic, like they’re trying to recapture the simplicity of how things used to be. She matches him, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

As the pace builds, so does the intensity and vulnerability between them. The kisses become messier, more desperate, and his thrusts deepen, driving into her with a force that feels like a mix of anger and love.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking as her nails dig into his back, leaving crimson lines in their wake.

“No?” she asks, a little hesitant.

His movements falter for a split second before he recovers, his eyes locking onto hers. “God. No, baby,” he says, his voice thick with determination. “We can fix this. I swear we can.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she can see his own glistening in the obscure lighting. They’re both breaking, and yet neither of them wants to let go.

Lando thrusts harder now, the force of it making her cry out as her body arches beneath him. She meets him halfway, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulls him deeper inside her, as close as humanly possible. The room fills with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other, their breathing, and their muffled cries.

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of their movements. “Like this, all the time. Only you.”

“You have me,” he replies, his voice breaking. “You’ll always have me, you know that.”

“Promise me,” she demands as she starts clenching around him, the heat building once again inside her.

Lando gasps at the feeling, fucking into her harder. “Shit, baby. I promise you. I promise.”

The weight of his words pushes her over the edge, her release hitting her harder the second time around. She cries out, tears streaming down her face as her body shakes beneath him. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing through him as he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders trembling with the force of it.

They stay like that, tangled together, their bodies molding into each other as they come down from the high. But the tears don’t stop. They cling to each other, crying softly as the reality of their situation crashes down on them.

“I love you so much,” he says, feeling her fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“I love you, too,” she admits without hesitation. “Do you think that's enough?”

Lando lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed but full of a tentative hope. “No. But it's a start.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[kxsagi]

this one doesn’t rlly involve a reader but i’d love to see blue lock boys react to what their irl fandom has to say abt them like from thirst comments to shit like “fraudtoshi rin” “plotsagi” “goatsagi” or idfk like “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses bc he can’t aim?” you can pick the characters, tho i feel like isagi, rin and kaiser are easier to do bc of how many comments there are about them

thank you for taking the time to read this random ass hc idea i love ur account🥀🥀💔💔

“𝐫𝐞𝐟, 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 🥀”

a/n: i loved this one so much, the blue lock fandom truly is the best 😭😭😭

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, ness alexis, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

isagi's the type to search his name on twitter. daily. you think he's just analyzing plays but no, he's reading threads like: "isagi plays soccer like he's plotting a murder and we're just watching the body count rise." "plotsagi got that rizz. man manipulating the ball and my feelings." 

he scrolls in silence for a good 10 minutes. then asks himself, “do i really look like i monologue in my head before i pass?” 

but then he finds one that says “if isagi had a fanfic it’d be tagged ‘obsession’ ‘manipulative behavior’ ‘this is not a love story’” and he goes, “okay, but they’re not wrong.” 

thirst tweets? he reads one that says, “i would let isagi use me like he uses spatial awareness” and drops his phone (that was tweeted by kxsagi). 

refuses to look anyone in the eye for a full 12 minutes. 

itoshi rin

the absolute worst person to find his fandom discourse. 

at first it’s fine, he sees “itoshi rin owns me” and “he could spit on me and i’d bark” and thinks you’re all mentally unstable (he’s right). 

but then. then. he hits a comment that says: “fraudtoshi rin only shows up when sae breathes near him. man folds faster than my GPA.” 

he stops breathing. who said that. he’s scrolling like he’s trying to find the IP address. 

goes into a full-on rant like, “i literally scored more goals in the NEL than– you know what, never mind. i don’t care. i don’t. i don’t even read comments.” (he absolutely reads the comments.) 

the worst part is he sees people arguing over who the hotter itoshi is. someone said “sae is sexy. rin is just cold and tall.” this man is FUMING. “i am not just tall.” 

kaiser michael

he lives for this. googles himself once a week. you can catch him reading a post that says: “kaiser looks like he’d insult you in german during sex and then ghost you after stealing your charger.” 

he chuckles and goes, “hm. they get me.” 

there’s another tweet: “kaiser plays football like the main villain in a sports anime and i’d still let him ruin my life.” 

he saves it. makes it his wallpaper. “they get it.” 

but then he sees one that says: “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses because he can’t aim?” 

that man screeches. pure betrayal. “WHAT? why would they say that? why would they say i can’t AIM? i am the best striker in blue lock! in the world!” 

he turns to ness like, “tell them it’s not true. say it.” 

ness alexis

he sees the comment about him holding it for kaiser and his face goes red. “i don’t do that!! i– i– kaiser can aim just fine!! i mean– i’ve never– WHY IS THAT A QUESTION!?” 

his favorite tweet is actually: “ness is like a clingy poodle with abandonment issues and i want to pat his head and tell him it’s okay.” 

he reads it twice and mutters, “i don’t have issues...” 

but then sees someone say “ness is just the manager who got promoted to player because kaiser needed a fanboy on-field” and he looks heartbroken for the entire week. 

mikage reo

he’s lowkey offended that people don’t thirst over him enough. 

“why does everyone simp for nagi? i have the body of a greek god and a bank account that would fund a small nation. where’s my edit with lana del rey playing in the back?” 

he finds a comment that says: “reo has rich twink energy and i respect that.” 

he reads it out loud and then mutters, “... what does that mean.” 

nagi seishiro

only finds out about the fandom when reo shows him. doesn’t care until he sees a tweet that says: “nagi looks like he’d sleep through a nuclear war, but wake up if you open a bag of chips.” 

he stares blankly and goes, “they’re right though.” 

reo shows him another that says “nagi looks like he gives the worst hugs. like hugging a fridge.” 

“do i?” he asks, genuinely confused. “maybe it’s just all the muscle i’ve packed on.” 

shidou ryusei

he’s already in the comments. like. not just reading them. replying. 

thirst tweets? he's in there with a “bet 😘” and a selfie of his abs. 

reads a tweet that says: “shidou plays like a demon possessed his body mid-match and now it’s just him vs god.” 

he likes it. reposts it with “and i’m winning.” 

but then he sees someone tweet: “if shidou had a tumblr, it would be just gifs of himself and ‘do u guys think teeth are sexy’ polls.” 

he grins, full teeth. “yo wait. that’s genius.” 

there’s another one that says “shidou would call you ‘mommy’ during sex just to see your reaction” and he cackles. 

“nah, i already have. she cried. it was awesome.” 

but the real chaos? he finds a post that reads: “shidou is what happens when red bull sponsors a felony.” 

he screenshots it. makes it his lock screen. 

itoshi sae

did not ask to see the fandom discourse. but a teammate showed him anyway. huge mistake. he stares blankly at the phone like: “what the hell is a ‘dilf agenda’ and why am i on it?” 

he sees another one that says: “sae looks like he’d ruin your life and then act like you were the problem.” 

he hums. “that’s just facts.” 

another says: “sae is hot, but i just know he’d leave you on read for 3-5 business days with no explanation and still expect you to be in love with him.” 

he glances over, shrugs. but then. then. he reads: “sae is just rin with prettier hair and daddy issues.” 

his entire soul leaves his body. “excuse me?” 

turns to his teammate like, “do i… do i look like i have daddy issues?” his teammate blinks. he’s already reevaluating his childhood in real time. 

worst of all, he finds a photo of himself mid-match with the caption: “sae itoshi could run me over with his lamborghini and i’d say thank you.” 

and now he won’t shut up. “you think i should get a lambo? it’d match my aura.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ikwon1c]

Motte

“i’m tired of being g-dragon. can kwon jiyong come home now?”

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

summary: during the MOTTE tour, jiyong was constantly surrounded but never truly seen or heard—performing through exhaustion, buried under expectations, and silently falling apart. but in a rare moment backstage, he allowed himself to fall apart in the arms of someone who simply saw him—as a person, not a legend.

tags: angst, heavy emotional themes, burnout, idol exhaustion, platonic comfort, vulnerability

if only i could hug 2017-2022 jiyong and tell him how proud i was of him 😔 he did so well. must protect him at all costs 💔

—

The crowd had screamed his name like he was a god.

Every breath he took on stage felt like another part of him slipping away like the lights, the sound, the sea of people only chipped at the pieces left of Kwon Jiyong. He danced, he sang, he bled on stage in that quiet, metaphorical way people don’t notice unless they really look.

But no one looked. No one ever really did.

Amsterdam’s air clung to the skin differently—cool, wet, detached. The kind of weather that didn’t press against you, didn’t demand warmth. He liked it. Or he would have, if he were still capable of liking things.

Backstage, it was all noise.

Assistants rushed around. Staff chattered and buzzed like they were the ones who just performed a 2-hour set. Cameras flashed. Praise, criticism, commands—all spoken like he wasn’t even in the room. He wasn’t, really. He was there, but also… far. Sitting in the corner of the dressing room on a low, padded bench. Elbows on knees. Head bowed slightly, like a puppet with its strings cut.

No one noticed.

No one, except me.

And me? I was a nobody.

Just an assistant under Geeun—his stylist. My job was to hold the clothing rack when it rolled too fast. To steam out creases. To label shoe boxes. To stay quiet, smile, and keep moving.

But I noticed. I always noticed him.

Jiyong didn’t look like himself that night. He didn’t look like the legend, the fashion icon, the artist, the man with the world in his palm. He looked like a boy who hadn’t slept in days, whose heart had been wrung out and left to dry on a wire no one cared to check.

His eyes weren’t just empty. They were gone.

And I couldn’t stand it.

I didn’t think. I walked. Through the crowd of stylists, producers, sound techs, security. No one stopped me—no one looked long enough to register that I shouldn’t be approaching him.

He didn’t flinch when I got close.

I stood there, in front of him. Close enough to hear the catch in his breath. Close enough to see that his fingers were shaking, just barely. I didn’t say a word. Just offered them like I’d done it a hundred times before like this wasn’t completely crazy, like I wasn’t a nameless ghost in his orbit.

My arms lifted slowly—on instinct, on faith—and I opened them. For a second, I was terrified. He would look up, see me, some nobody intern, and brush me off. He would snap back to stage-mode, fix his posture, flash that trademark smirk, and I’d melt into the floor in embarrassment.

But then��

He looked at me.

Really looked at me.

And his eyes…

God, they were tired. Not just from the show. From life.

So I smiled, gently. Soft and unsure, and maybe a little sad, too.

He stared at me. Still blank. But then, slowly, he moved. And for the first time all night, he did something real.

He stepped into my arms.

No words.

He just… stood up and walked into my arms like that was always where he was meant to go. His body hit mine with a weight that almost knocked the air out of me.

He didn’t hug me gently. He clung to me.

His weight sank into me like the gravity had finally won. His arms came around my waist, slow, unsure, and then all at once tight. Desperate. His face buried in the crook of my neck, breath hot and uneven. And then—

A sound.

Low. Raw. Barely a breath. But I felt it more than I heard it.

A sob.

Silently, at first. Just a tremble in his shoulders, a wetness against my skin. Then a sharp breath, and the quiet hitch of someone trying not to fall apart and failing.

My arms tightened without thinking. One hand cradled the back of his head, fingers slipping into sweat-damp hair. The other pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, grounding him, anchoring him.

He cried.

The kind of tears that don’t fall pretty. The kind that rip through your lungs on the way out. The kind that never get seen in public, because even celebrities deserve the dignity of privacy when they break.

No one noticed. No one cared. They moved around us like we were shadows.

And that night, in a city neither of us called home, surrounded by people who only saw the surface, he broke down in my arms.

Just me. Just him.

Just us.

—

I didn’t say anything for a long time. I just let him cry.

I think he needed it—the quiet. The lack of expectation. No one asking him to be okay. No one telling him to perform happiness.

When his breathing evened out, when the shaking slowed, he didn’t pull away.

He just whispered, “I’m so tired.”

And it broke me.

I whispered, “It’s okay,” not knowing if it was or would be, but it was all I had. “I’ve got you.”

I ran my fingers softly through his hair, careful not to mess up the carefully constructed style too much. “I know baby,” I whispered. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

He didn’t. He just clung to me. I just rubbed his back while his arms tightened even more around my waist. A quiet plea in the way he held on.

We stayed like that for a long time. I don’t remember how long. Minutes? More? At some point, I felt him start to shake. Not from cold. From everything.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps. I helped him sit down again. Still in the corner. Still mostly unnoticed. I grabbed a towel and handed it to him, pretended not to see how red his eyes were. He wiped at his face with trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, finally meeting my eyes.

I gave a little nod.

“You… What’s your name?” he asked after a moment.

I hesitated. “Y/N.”

He repeated it like it meant something. Like it was a name he wanted to hold on to.

“I’m just… with Geeun,” I added, embarrassed.

“Can you come with me?” he said. “Just… for a little while?”

I nodded.

The car ride was quiet. The city lights slid past the windows like oil paintings. Jiyong sat beside me, his hand resting on the seat between us, twitching occasionally like he wanted to reach for something and couldn’t quite do it.

I didn’t push him.

He led the way to the elevator, head down. The suite was on the top floor—of course it was—and silent as a museum when the door opened. Too clean. Too empty. It smelled faintly like polished wood and expensive loneliness.

He dropped his bag just inside the door. Then he stopped moving. Like he didn’t know what came next.

I stood behind him, unsure if I was still supposed to be there. But then he turned, and in his eyes there was something raw. A silent ask.

“Can I… talk?” he said.

“Anything you need,” I answered.

So we sat. Not on the couch. Not at the table. On the bed.

He sat cross-legged, slouched, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck like he was trying to stay grounded. His voice was quiet when it came.

“I don’t remember why I started doing this,” he said. “I used to love it. I think. When I was a kid. Music felt like… like home. But now it’s just pressure. Just noise. I can’t breathe.”

I listened.

“I go on stage and it’s like… I become this thing. This idea. And people scream for it. But when the lights go off, I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what they’re cheering for anymore.”

His voice cracked. He closed his eyes.

“I’m scared I’m not a person anymore.”

I said nothing.

He kept going.

“I can’t sleep. Not really. I smoke, I drink, I take something, I knock out for an hour, and then I wake up like I never rested at all. And everyone just keeps saying, ‘You’re doing amazing, hyung. You’re killing it.’ But I don’t feel alive.”

I didn’t move. Not until he did.

He leaned toward me, slowly, like every movement hurt. Then he laid his head in my lap. No fanfare. No drama. Just a tired, broken man looking for something soft to hold onto.

I placed my hand on his hair and gently ran my fingers through it. He exhaled like it was the first breath he’d taken all night.

He kept talking.

About everything. The loneliness. The isolation. How even surrounded by thousands, he felt like no one really saw him. How the pressure to be a genius, an artist, a brand, was killing the little boy who used to scribble lyrics in the margins of his notebooks.

And I just sat there. Held him and just listened. Tonight, he was just wants to be seen and heard.

Loved him—not romantically, but purely. The way you love someone when you see their soul laid bare and you want to help them carry the weight of it.

Eventually, he stopped speaking.

Eventually, he cried again.

Quieter this time. Softer.

His hands curled into the sheets beside my legs. His face pressed against my thigh. And I felt warm tears soak through the fabric of my pants. He was under the blanket now, and I stayed on top of it, upright, rooted. A silent support beam for the wreckage of his heart.

He whispered, “Thank you.”

I whispered, “Sleep.”

And he did. Still holding on. Like I was the last real thing in the world.

And that’s where it ended.

No promises. No forever. Just a night of being human. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

—

The thing about moments like that night in Amsterdam is that they don’t come with closure.

There’s no dramatic ending, no music swelling as you walk into the sunrise. No promises made. No numbers exchanged. Just the slow, steady fading of something too delicate to name.

I never expected to be called again. I didn’t even know if he remembered it after that night.

And I was okay with that.

Sort of.

In the weeks that followed, the tour kept moving. Cities blurred into each other. Hotel rooms changed. Outfits were steamed and wrinkled and steamed again. The music thumped through arena walls night after night, and backstage was always a mess of coffee cups, frayed nerves, and late arrivals. I kept working under Geeun. I stayed in my lane.

I saw him sometimes, of course.

Jiyong.

Not the man curled up in my lap. Not the broken soul I held like a secret. Just the artist again. The brand. The silhouette striding past with sunglasses at night and security in tow. Sometimes he’d walk within arm’s reach, and I’d wonder if he felt it too, that small hum in the air.

But he never looked my way.

And I never expected him to.

So by the time we were packing to fly out again, I had already filed it all away into the drawer of Beautiful, Quiet Things That Don’t Belong to Me.

It was early.

Too early for the sun to be awake. My eyelids felt like sandpaper. My carry-on strap was digging into my shoulder, and I still had the taste of airport coffee on my tongue. Most of the staff were gathered near the group check-in, buzzing softly as they waited for boarding to be called.

I was scrolling through a half-loaded screen on my phone, earbuds in, mind somewhere else entirely, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned.

It was Minji, one of the production staff. She looked mildly apologetic, like she was bracing for me to be annoyed.

“Hey,” she said. “Change of seat.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You were in economy, right? They moved you to business. Seat 3B.”

I frowned. “Why?”

She shrugged. “No idea. Just told me to pass the message.”

I stared at her, confused. “You sure?”

“Your name’s on the manifest now.” She held up her tablet. There it was, clear as day. My name, my passport number, and the updated seat assignment.

Still confused, I nodded and thanked her. She walked off before I could ask anything else.

Seat 3B.

I was among the first to board. The flight attendants greeted me like they’d been prepped. One even said my name with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I followed the winding path of the jet bridge, stepped into the cabin… and there he was.

Jiyong.

Sitting in 3A.

His head was tilted against the window, hoodie up, headphones resting around his neck instead of over his ears. Sunglasses off this time. Face bare. Tired.

He looked up when I stopped in the aisle.

We locked eyes. And just like that, my heart remembered everything all at once.

The weight of him in my arms. The sound of his voice cracking in the dark. The way his fingers had clutched the sheets beside my legs while he cried. That night had lived inside me like a small, sacred flame but I hadn’t known if it lived in him, too.

Now I did.

He nodded toward the empty seat beside him.

I sat down.

The seat was too wide, too soft, too quiet after the chaos of backstage life. I adjusted my seatbelt. Stared at the touchscreen in front of me without seeing anything.

Neither of us spoke for a minute.

Then his voice, low and tired: “Did I wake you?”

I glanced at him. “No. I’ve been up.”

A pause. Then, “I asked for you.”

My chest tightened. “I figured,” I said softly.

He nodded again, eyes flicking toward the window. The world outside was still dark. The kind of gray-blue quiet that only exists before dawn.

“I didn’t know if I could,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Another silence.

This one heavier.

“I’ve been… trying,” he said at last. “Since that night. To feel things again. To rest. To talk. Sometimes I manage. Sometimes I just… get through the show.”

I nodded, watching his profile. There was something so human about him in this light. No glitter. No spotlights. Just skin and eyes and breath.

“I never said thank you right after,” he added.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I reached for the blanket tucked under the seat. Unfolded it. Without a word, I laid half across my lap, then held out the other half.

He looked down at it, and for a second, I thought he might resist. Then, slowly, he leaned toward me.

He didn’t lay in my lap this time. He just rested his shoulder against mine, head tipped lightly toward mine, sharing the same warmth. His hand found the edge of the blanket and pulled it a little higher.

The plane took off.

Somewhere over the clouds, he exhaled long and low. Not a sigh, not quite but something close to peace. We didn’t talk after that. We didn’t need to. The space between us said enough. He asked for me and I came.

Quietly.

Gladly.

Always.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Just got this idea and it made me cry ok so for 141+König where the reader suddenly walks up to him and just kisses and holds him while crying cause they love him so much and they panicked at the thought of losing him maybe sth happened and they got scared or maybe they were just thinking about it idk FUCK I love them so much can't bear the thought of anything happening to them 😭💔

141 + Königs Reactions To You Crying For/Over Them

Warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, angst

Simon Ghost Riley-

You hadn’t been able to find Simon all day. You chalked it up to the both of you being busy on base, but usually you’d always caught a glimpse of him throughout the day.

You had a gnawing feeling at your chest, but weren’t able to act upon it until later that night. You found Simon on the rooftop of base, staring up at the night sky as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“I thought you quit smoking.” You teased, slowly walking up to him.

When Simon didn’t give his usual witty remark in reply, you knew something was wrong. His eyes remained glued to the stars, and you could see that his eyes were red.

“Simon, are you okay?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his in a comforting gesture. “Talk to me.”

Simon tore his eyes away from the sky, and flicked his cigarette over the railing. “It’s the anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” You asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s been 6 years since they died.” Simon said, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Your family?” You asked, giving his hand another squeeze. In the years you’d been together, Simon had only talked about his family a few times, and you were never one to press the subject. Simon was a reserved man, and you’d don’t want to push your luck with that.

But Simon told you everything that night. Every little detail of his life when he was a child. The kind of man his father was. How his family was murdered and that the only thing he could do for them was to get revenge. No detail was spared, and once he was done speaking, Simon found a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally let someone in.

He took a breath, and looked up at you to find you sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, other than throw yourself into Simon’s arms, gripping around his waist at tight as you possibly could.

“Simon, I am so, so sorry you’ve gone through that. I don’t know.. I don’t know what to say other than I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.” You cried into his chest. “I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know, kid.” He said, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “I know.”

John MacTavish-

You awoke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly as you blinked away hot tears. You’d just had the worst nightmare. You were out on a mission, when Johnny was killed right in front of you. The dream felt so real, and your heart was aching at the very real possibility that you could lose him on a mission.

You looked next to you, and found Johnny’s side of the bed cold and empty. It was clear he hadn’t been in bed for some time.

You threw the covers off of you, throwing one of Johnny’s hoodies on before making your way toward the gym- somewhere you knew he would be at this hour.

You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you laid eyes on Johnny. He’d worked up quite the sweat, and it was clear he’d been here for some time.

Your legs reacted before your brain could catch up, and you found yourself grabbing Johnny by the collar of his shirt and roughly placing your lips on his.

You pulled back, breathless as you looked up as Johnny with tears in your eyes. He immediately frowned, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart. Are you alright?” His hands rubbed at your arms soothingly.

“I- I had a dream. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.” You sobbed, rubbing away at your tears as your eyes drifted to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Johnny pulled you close to him, his arms holding you tight against his chest as he pressed kisses along your temple. “I’m here, Bonnie. It was just a dream. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It felt so real.” You said, pulling away. “I.. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you. I just.. I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Then don’t. Because I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep coming back to you, okay?” Johnny asked, lifting your chin up so that your eyes met his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled in return, rubbing your teary eyes against his shirt causing Johnny to chuckle softly. “Let us get back to bed, yeah?”

“I’m not even tired anymore.” You mumbled, not pulling your face from Johnnys chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing a beds good for more than just sleeping, eh?” Johnny threw you a cheeky smile, before lifting you in his arms. “Gotta show my babe I’m not going anywhere.”

John Price-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, John was by your side as a hail of bullets rained down on the two of you in the field. The next, John was halfway across the field, oblivious to the enemy behind him. It was a blur, the man raised his gun, and proceeded to shoot John in the chest.

“John!” You shrieked, watching as the man you love fell to the ground. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as your brain started to malfunction. Nothing else around you in that moment mattered. He couldn’t die, not like this. He couldn’t leave you.

You sprinted across the field, ignoring the shouts of the other soilders around you, your eyes welling with tears as John’s frame came into view.

You skidded to your knees, your hands immediately reaching for John’s face.

“John!” You whimpered, your eyes skimming down the length of his body.

“Baby, hey. It’s okay. The vest caught it. It just knocked the wind out of me.” John reached out to grab your hands, trying to calm you down, to no avail.

Your hands continued to frantically pull at his vest, you needed to see he was truly unharmed with your own eyes. “No! No you got shot!”

John grasped your hands in his gently, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You blinked away tears, your bottom lip wobbling as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I thought I lost you.”

“I hope you know it’s going to take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me from you.” John said, before capturing your lips in his. “I promise you I’m okay, alright?”

You nodded, pulling away to help John to his feet. With one final firm kiss, the two of you finished out the mission, neither one of you straying too far from the other.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You twiddled your thumbs anxiously, your eyes darting back to the front door of the base every few minutes, praying Kyle would walk through the door.

141 was expected back three days ago, and according to Laswell they’d gone radio silent the day they were supposed to come back.

You choked back a sob, burying your face into your arms. You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Kyle never came back. He was your everything.

You slowed your breathing, trying to regain your composure when the click of the front door caught your attention. Your head jumped up, your heart immediately skipping a beat as Kyle and the rest of the 141 walked through the front door, looking a little worse for wear.

Without a second of hesitation, your legs moved faster than they ever had in your life as you slammed yourself into Kyle, your arms encompassing his waist in a firm grip.

Your relationship wasn’t common knowledge, so Kyle was quite surprised when you made such a public display of affection, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His squeezed you in return, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here, babe. It’s okay.”

“They kept saying you weren’t coming back. That you were all dead.” You cried softly, burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest. “I was so scared.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He promised, holding you tighter. “I’ve got you.”

The two of you remained inseparable for the remainder of the day, neither one of you taking your eyes off each other.

König-

It was no secret that König wasn’t the most popular person on base. Between his height, the frightening mask he wore, and his timid nature, he wasn’t known for making many friends.

It’d come as a shock to the majority of the people on base when it was announced that you and König were a couple.

You’d heard the whispers of course, just as König did. The rude comments thrown about him behind his back, unbeknownst to you, had König’s self esteem plummeting.

You didn’t find out until late one night when you found your boyfriend alone in the weapons locker, looking the most upset you’d ever seen him.

“Babe? You weren’t at dinner, is everything okay?” You asked, pausing a few paces in front of him. You’d never seen him like this and you were unsure of how to react.

“I’m a freak, Maus.” König spoke, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “No matter what I do, no matter how good I am out on the field, no matter how well I follow orders… I’ll always be the outcast.”

Your heart shattered at his words, hot tears forming in your eyes as you stepped closer to him. “König, that’s not true.”

König finally looked up at you, a solemn expression on his face- something you never wanted to see on your lover again. “It is. I know you’ve heard what they say. I’m a monster. I’m weird. I look more like the villain than the hero. It’s all things I’ve told myself before.”

“Look at me.” You said, crouching before him. You quickly wiped away the stray tears that began to fall as you spoke. “You are not any of those things. Those people are fools. They haven’t gotten to know the man underneath the mask. On the field, you’re the battering ram. A powerhouse. The perfect weapon. But off the field? You’re the best fucking person I know.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you so much König. If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how great of a person you are.”

“I don’t deserve you Maus.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter. “But I thank god every day you’re in my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: ahh not super happy with this turned out- I’m not sure if I captured this request the best🥺

Excited to keep putting out the next few requests. Thank you again everyone for all your support❤️

[aizenscumslut]

a wedding tradition

ft. gojo satoru x fem!reader. | fluff, teasing.

The room is buzzing with excitement, but all you can focus on is Satoru kneeling in front of you, that devilish smirk curving his lips. The guests are watching—waiting, laughing—but the way he’s looking at you? It’s downright sinful.

His white hair a stark contrast against your gown. “Nervous, sweetheart?” he murmurs, just for you to hear. His fingers ghost over your thighs, warm and teasing, before he slips beneath the folds of your dress

You swallow hard, your heart hammering in your chest. “Just take it off already, Satoru—”

And then—he’s gone from sight. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” His voice is low, muffled beneath the dress, but the amusement in it is unmistakable.

Your breath catches as the fabric billows around him, hiding him from the guests. To them, it’s all fun and games. But you? You feel him. The heat of his breath, the way his hands settle on your thighs, spreading them just enough.

He doesn’t rush. No, that would be too easy. Instead, he trails his fingers up your thigh, brushing over the lace of your garter, letting the anticipation drag out. His touch is featherlight, teasing, infuriatingly slow.

You tense when you feel the first brush of his lips—a kiss, just above the garter.

Your heart stutters and your breath catches in your throat.

“Satoru,” you hiss, gripping the edge of your chair.

He chuckles, fingertips digging in slightly, his breath hot against your skin.

“Relax, baby. Just enjoying the view.”

The guests cheer and whistle, oblivious to the way Gojo’s mouth lingers just a second too long, the way his fingers drag slow, burning circles into your skin.

And then—he takes the garter with his teeth.

You nearly jerk in your seat. The sensation is too much, his lips grazing over your thigh as he slowly, torturously pulls the lace down. Your pulse throbs, heat curling in your stomach as he makes a show of it, taking his sweet time.

When he reaches your knee, he finally emerges, his hair messy from the dress, his smirk downright filthy. He holds the garter between his teeth for a second—just long enough for you to see the mischief in his eyes—before he plucks it away with his fingers.

“I’ll be taking my time with you later, baby.”

Then, with a wink, he tosses it over his shoulder to the cheering crowd.

But you? You barely hear them. Not when Gojo is looking at you like that.

Not when you already know what’s coming later.

anon: yall prob thought i forgor about this but i was actually busy w exams and thinking about how to start ts 💔💔🥀🥀 hope yall enjoyed ts tho ❤️ ly

[bobur-the-berry-guy]

Omg bobur posting twice the same day??Unbelievable! also im feeding another one of my pookie bear besties

Kaoru relationship hcs!

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•🥥•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

I'd say congrats on getting him but he's too busy mentally congratulating himself on getting you

He doesn't know how he achieved this or how you're actually into him but he's not complaining

Be prepared to reassure him that yes, you do love him and yes, you do wanna be with him

Ok for the pre-relationship

He pretends he doesn't care and that he's so mysterious..

And then he's so obvious

Not only because the rest of the club is (lovingly) bullying him into next week but let's be for real it might as well be written on his forehead

He stares at you like you're the only person in the room

He's also huffing and puffing about anything you ask him for help with but not once does he tell you no

He's so trying to hype himself to be more open with you but gets nervous over actually nothing

You smiled at him in class? Sweating

A side hug? Heart attack

Your hand brushed over his? Exploded in the spot

Typa dude to talk in the mirror and hype himself to not be scared of being around you and that he's the shit and then wimp out the second you move closer to hear him better

He wanted to tell you you're pretty but he almost said you're petty instead and gave up

His sister is sick of listening about you all day every day and then having to listen to him talk himself into "being a man🔥"

She might as well already personally know you with all that Kanzaki's nonstop rambling

The phantom busters are simultaneously so done with him and still don't let him catch a bre on how down bad he's acting

He's literally delusioning himself into confessing to you

I won't say much on confessions right now because there's something in the works, stay tuned hihi (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

He'd probably be hesitant to tell you anything about the ghost he sees in the beginning, but if you reassure him and ask long enough he'd eventually crack open

And not only about what he's seen but what that has made him go trough - the fear, the rejection, the loneliness, all of it

And when you genuinely believe him instead of thinking he's a freak? Yea, he knows it's over for him

Compares everything to shoujo anime scenes

I'm not even joking you could give him your water bottle because he's thirsty and his brain will automatically go to indirect kiss scenes

On the anime note he would be ecstatic if you're actually into his favourites

He won't say it but it would be so clear

Doesn't matter if you liked these animes beforehand or found them out trough him

Now, if you start watching something just because he likes it - that's something else

In your eyes it's probably a simple action but to him? Nah, that's a lot to him

He will remember that, probably tear up over it a bit too

Seeing that something would interest you just because it's important to him really gives his heart a pang!, ok?

Anyway

Will make constant references and send you stuff of the main couple and say "us"

You'd never know if he's telling u the truth or not when you ask him a question about what happen later on in the anime or manga

He would tell you the truth every now and then but you'd never know if that character actually died or it's just an au until you find out about it yourself💔

Would also send you random screenshots from later moments to motivate you to continue watching/reading the series

Would also facetime you just to watch anime

Would also sometimes have to rewatch certain parts or whole episodes because he zoned out staring at you

And if he cries bc sometimes happened he's either pointing the camera to the ceiling or he's straigh up turning it off lmao

Will make it seems like you're the one who suggested watching the anime if it's like slice of life or romance stuff

Just let him be..

Also he'd fangirl over certain moments and then pretend it never happened

"OHMYGOD THEY'RE SO CUTE AUGHH-- yea, the scene is nice, they're finally actually doing something"

Also if you invite him on a sleepover to watch something instead of facetiming?

He's arriving with a variety of snacks, drinks and a meal from home - he is PREPARED

His sister made it, he said

Would bring his best pajama to seem cooler

He's cooking up every scenario imaginable in his head

What if he has food on the corner of his mouth and you wipe it for him?! What if you feed him by hand?! What if you say you'd have to share the bed?!

Sure, entirely possible situation, but he's overdoing it

Now if you decide to lean on him or cuddle him while watching he'd be so stiff in the beginning I'm sorry

It's like hugging a plank

Give him some time to chill out and he'd be actually a bit clingy

Now if you fall asleep on him he's definitely going back to all these shoujo scenarios

He's sweating and he feels like he's having heart palpitations but he's gonna get over that too

Might or might not take a pic or selfie of you sleeping on him all cute and cozy

He's flexing in the club groupchat

On the chat topic, he's kind of a dry texter in the beginning but at least it comes off funny

He's the meme supreme and he has meme reactions for literally everything, but he doesn't send them a lot

He prefers to keep them to himself for just the right moment

On that note @/yukkuo has these "kaoru as ur bf texts" and i need to say check them out because that's exactly what i was picturing too they have ones for moragi also

If you ever compliment him for whatever reason he can only stare at you like an idiot for a good few seconds

You?? telling him he's pretty??? What is this alternate universe he's fallen in???

Especially!! if you compliment his eyes

He takes that straight to his heart

Please be tender with him

Hold his hand, play with his hair, hug him, cradle his face and kiss him all over - he's sensetive even if he acts like he isn't

He would let you touch his scars too

He usually avoids people's touch, but how could he refuse letting you when you're so gentle with him?

When he stops being nervous about you touching him he's definitely asking you to do it more

He won't say it though, that would make him too flustered

Instead he'd take your hand and put in on his face or in his hair and let you do your thing

If you insist on him telling you what he wants he will do it red and stuttering

Remind him just how much you adore him even if he hasn't asked you to reassure him

He tends to scare people away to the fact you're not only not avoiding him but also insisting that you want to be with him? Damn, he really lucked out

All in all, despite trying to appear all scary and mysterious, he's a giant softie

Just give him a big fat kiss, he needs it

๑Requests are open btw(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)✧⁠*⁠。

[brawberryz]

Oh! I have a question for your Coraline AU!

You know how in the movie, the other Wybie and Other Father betrayed Other Mother? How both had repeatedly tried to ward Coraline away or give hints on how she had to escape?

Do you think any of the siblings would betray Other Bruce? If not to save Coraline Reader and help her escape, to maybe try to become the new owner of the Other Manor and keep Coraline Reader for themselves?

With the Ghost Children, do they have the same trinkets as their eyes as they do in the movie? Are they all past Wayne's, since it's connected to Wayne Manor?

What trinket would the Reader have to represent their eye? Maybe a pearl, just to mess with Bruce.

Would removing the button and stealing the trinket to the Real World save the Reader?

I wonder if, in a way, only sewing on one button was Other Bruce's way of being Yandere? To have claim over the Reader without killing them. Without devouring them. If he's a spider creature, it'd be really interesting if he started allowing them Other Manor to look more and more like how the Other Pink Palace did, with the insect themes. Or the descent in the Other Families appearances. If Bruce starts to stretch and look more starved. While in the movie Zelinsky was rat themed and the twin performers were fish like Pieces, would the Other versions of the siblings be animals? Though, Other Father in the movie was pumpkin based. Or would they follow being insects like Other Bruce?

(Though, if Other Bruce was a Bat, that'd be interesting. But then it'd be all birds and bats in the Other's themes.)

Does Other Dick play into the circus themes and the real one being an acrobat? Play it up? Maybe one of the ball rooms is also like the inside of a circus tent? Having Zitka the Elephant as a part of the act. (Part of me would say he's a Springtail, but a Click Beetle would be more fitting, given it's a great predator and acrobat.)

Other Jason cooks and bake with Other Alfred. Though, occasionally is in garden areas and the animal pens where Other Damian keeps his 'pets'. He sticks to the Library when not 'patrolling'. (I imagine he's kinda like a wasp, patrolling and guarding areas.)

Tim always seems to be around every corner. Stalking the halls. Only one without a themed room Reader can enter. Though, that would either mean his room is essentially connected to the Bat Cave or he doesn't have one. (Perfect for a Praying Mantis and their camera like eyes paired with swivel neck.)

Other Cassandra is obviously going to do ballet. Maybe have a stage to perform on? (A Photuris female Firefly. Very good at mimicking, luring, and body language.) But I'd imagine Other Stephanie sticks close by with her theme being 'pranks'. Maybe she shares a room with Cassandra? (A Robber Fly would probably suit her.)

Other Duke is constantly in the gardens trying new sports, playing pranks with Stephanie, and is the most personal feeling one of the lot. His main area being a game room that has a bunch of different box games, card games, and other such things. (While a Lightning Bug would be the obvious choice, I might go for a butterfly. He's eye catching. Doesn't seem predatory, at first. Almost comforting. People forget they literally drink blood, sweat, and tears.)

Other Damian obviously has animals and art though his main place would be with the 'animals'. Which are obviously acting as cameras. Maybe he cares for Zitka the Elephant when Dick isn't running his act. (It'd be interesting if he was a Tarantula, given how close it is to spiders and the fact some do keep pets.)

Dude...

what did you write 💔

you literally just figured out 70% of the things I had prepared for the next (and future) chapters

I don't know if I should feel surprised or scared with your imagination

I'll just say that some things you said are right, maybe I'll even be adding some things from the original Coraline book

although I'll be honest, your idea was very good, I'm not going to lie😭🙏

[joaosnovia]

heyyy, hope ur doing great! Soo I had this crazy and random idea about a cubarsi x reader, the reader is hector’s twin sister and lamine’s best friend. For the plot I was thinking that Hector and Pau have been playing a lot of matches but are also stressed cause their school exams are coming up and everything is a bit tense. And at some point the team and some of the wags organise a bqq and after they eat and have fun they sit around the outside fire pit and Cuba and hector who are sleep deprived fall asleep using the reader as a pillow, Pau’s head on her lap and hector’s on her shoulder, and lamine is staring at the two for a while and the rest of the teams asks him about it and he admits that he is worried about his best friends being so stressed but he is also proud because they both have been playing extremely well as defenders despite their age. Really pure fluff and Lamine being worried. Really appreciate ur work and talent keep up the great work ❤️❤️❤️

❦ - mis chicos.

warnings:: cussing I THINK..? angst if you squint and also comfort

pairings:: twin!hector x reader , situationship!pau x reader , friend!lamine x reader

writers notes:: sigh i’m posting this after my first gcse… english lit. i wanna SOB bro it was the worst but shoutout to macbeth ❤️. anywho! enjoy, this is rushed asf 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’d been watching it happen for days.

hector walking through the house like a ghost, textbooks in one hand, his boots in the other. pau answering texts at 2am, the read receipts timestamped way too late for someone with morning training. both of them running on energy drinks and adrenaline, trying to balance being fc barcelona starters and passing their exams like their lives depended on it.

you’d tried to check in, multiple times.

‘bro,’ you said to hector one night, watching him eat cereal for dinner while reviewing anatomy flashcards. ‘maybe sleep? like just a lil nap?’

he’d barely looked up. ‘no time.’

pau was the same. texting you and lamine in the group chat like:

‘chemistry exam tmrw. if i fail i’m changing identities. wish me luck.’
‘also who has the notes from ethics. i think i was unconscious during that class.’

and lamine, bless him, was so worried. not in a loud way. but in a quiet, watching everything kind of way. you’d catch him frowning when pau forgot to tie his laces, or when hector stared blankly at his locker for two minutes straight.

so when one of the older players suggested a bbq to ‘clear the air’ after a rough week of training, everyone jumped on it. wags included. someone offered a garden, someone else offered food, and suddenly the group chat was on fire with emoji spam and location pins.

you were mostly excited for a moment to breathe. for all of them to relax.

especially your boys.

the bbq had been chaos, in the best way.

someone (you were 99% sure it was ferran) set off the smoke alarm twice, the playlist was full of early 2010s throwbacks, and someone brought water guns, which turned into a full war between the midfielders and the defenders.

and through it all, you’d been watching your boys.

hector had finally relaxed a little, laughing when someone made fun of his haircut and letting go of his notes for the first time in days. pau was smiling again, actually smiling, not the tight tired one he’d been faking all week.

and lamine? he was hovering. not in a weird way, just always near. watching, checking, protecting. it was kinda cute, honestly.

now the sun had dipped low, and everyone had migrated to the fire pit in the garden. blankets were thrown over laps, half-eaten marshmallows forgotten, the music soft now. just vibes. glowy and golden.

you were sitting in the middle of the bench seat, hoodie zipped up, legs pulled close.

pau had dropped beside you with a dramatic sigh, mumbling something about being so full he might explode, then somehow… just stayed there. head eventually resting in your lap, eyes fluttering shut mid convo.

hector followed not long after, yawning like a baby lion and flopping down with his head on your shoulder, mumbling ‘you smell like smoke and perfume’ before fully passing out.

you blinked down at them.

two fully grown, exhausted footballers using you as a human pillow. you were literally a cubarsí sandwich.

lamine plopped down on the ground across from you, a marshmallow stick still in his hand. he was staring at them, brows a little furrowed, lips pressed in that way he did when he was thinking hard.

you caught his eye. raised a brow.

‘what?’ you mouthed.

he hesitated… then the others noticed too.

iñigo leaned forward, voice low. ‘lamine. you good? you look like you’re watching a movie or something.’

lamine looked at the two boys, your brother and your maybe something (he wasn’t your boyfriend, but also… he was). then back at you.

‘they’ve just… been through a lot,’ he said finally, his voice softer than usual. ‘and no one really talks about it. how hard it is. being that young, playing at that level. then having to study for a physics exam like it’s nothing.’

you smiled gently, brushing your fingers through pau’s hair without thinking. ‘they’re trying so hard.’

‘yeah,’ lamine nodded. ‘and i’m so proud of them. i just don’t say it enough.’

the others went quiet for a moment. even the fire popped at the right time, like it knew this was something that needed to be said.

pure softness. pure love.

and as hector snored lightly against your shoulder and pau mumbled something in his sleep about ‘don’t forget the flashcards’, you leaned your head back, warm inside and out.

your boys were safe. lamine was watching over them. and for once, just for tonight, the world could slow down a little.

the fire had burned low, the air crisp with the last breaths of warmth from the embers. your legs were falling asleep under the weight of pau sprawled in your lap, and you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful everything felt now.

hector, on the other hand, had been using your shoulder as his personal pillow for the last little while. his head was still resting there, and his breathing was steady until, of course, he shifted slightly and mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

‘mm… what time is it?’

you chuckled softly, adjusting yourself to make sure you weren’t crushing pau. ‘it’s late, i think. everyone else is inside by now.’

hector blinked up at you, looking a little groggy. his hand rubbed at his eyes, and his head flopped back onto your shoulder with a quiet sigh. ‘guess i really fell asleep on you, huh?’ he mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie.

‘you’ve been running on empty for days,’ you teased, nudging his shoulder. ‘you needed it.’

hector grinned sleepily, his lips pulling into a lazy smile. ‘yeah, maybe... i’m just glad i have a sister like you to nap on.’

you laughed quietly, your hand brushing through his hair, trying not to wake pau. ‘well, someone has to be the pillow, right?’

hector’s smile softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in a while. the tiredness in his eyes was still there, but there was something else too. something softer. ‘you’ve been here for me through everything, huh?’ he said quietly. ‘even when i don’t deserve it.’

your heart swelled at the sound of his voice the vulnerability in it. ‘always, hector. you’re my brother. no matter how stressed you get or how many exams you have, i’m here. always.’

he smiled again, leaning his head into your shoulder once more. ‘i don’t say it enough, but i’m really glad you’re my twin.’

you rested your cheek on his head, laughing softly. ‘i’m glad you’re my twin too, idiot.’

just then, pau stirred in your lap. he groaned and rubbed his eyes, half awake. ‘are you two seriously having a moment while i’m stuck here?’ he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

you shot him a playful look. ‘you literally fell asleep in my lap, pau. don’t act like i’m the one being dramatic.’

pau just blinked at you, his head still a little groggy as he sat up. ‘fine, fine. i’m not complaining. you’re comfy,’ he grinned, looking at hector, then back at you.

hector chuckled, but before he could say anything, lamine approached the bench, standing a little behind you and observing the scene quietly.

you caught his gaze, and for a second, his eyes softened. he leaned against the back of the bench, his arms crossed, as he took in the sight of you, your twin, and pau.

‘you alright?’ you asked him gently, feeling his concern without him having to say a word.

lamine hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to hector, then back to you. ‘yeah. i’m just… thinking.’

‘about what?’ you asked, offering him a gentle smile.

he ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged. ‘about them. about hector and pau. they’re really putting so much into their games right now, but no one really talks about how stressed they are off the field. no one sees that part.’

you nodded slowly, understanding where he was coming from. ‘yeah, they’re both carrying a lot. i think they just don’t know how to stop pushing themselves.’

‘i see it,’ lamine said softly, his gaze now focused on hector, who was leaning into you with his eyes half closed. ‘and it makes me proud. they’re both playing so well despite everything. but it’s like... they’re too hard on themselves sometimes.’

you smiled, your heart warming at the thought of how much lamine cared about your brother and pau. ‘they don’t show it, but they appreciate you looking out for them.’

lamine’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, you felt a deeper understanding pass between you two. it wasn’t just about being there for hector or pau; it was about the three of you watching out for each other.

just as the moment settled in, hector let out a small yawn, his head lifting slightly as he looked at lamine. ‘you good?’ he asked, still groggy but clearly aware of his best friend’s quiet mood.

lamine blinked and gave a small nod. ‘yeah, just making sure you’re both alright.’

you smiled at that. lamine’s loyalty to your brother was something you’d always admired, even if he was a little shy about showing it.

pau, now fully awake, stretched and groaned. ‘i need to get up before my back dies,’ he muttered, standing up and shaking his legs out.

hector gave him a lazy wave. ‘go ahead, old man. stretch it out.’

pau threw a playful glare his way, then nudged you as he started to walk inside. ‘you gonna leave them to be all cutetogether, or are you coming?’

you laughed softly, feeling the warmth of the fire on your skin. ‘in a minute.’

pau rolled his eyes but gave you a small smile before heading inside.

and as the fire died down even further, you sat there with lamine and hector, a quiet calm falling over the three of you. you didn’t need to say anything more, not right now.

you were all just together. and for the first time in a while, it felt like everything would be okay.

[devilsadvocate54]

obsessed with u | ellie williams [prologue]

football player! ellie x football player! reader

summary | catching feelings for the rival team's goalkeeper definitely wasn't a good idea. you tried to ignore your feelings until you realized that the goalkeeper in the question felt the same way. smau.

warnings | men dni ,, minors safe. really shit ass writing. ellie is annoying af. two idiots in lov. swearing.

author’s note | ts idea came to my mind thanks to the pin i saw last night. i was literally jus scrolling thru pinterest and saw that pin. i wanted to do this as a fic, but i gave up when i realized i couldn’t write fic. anyways enjoyyy 🧍‍♀️

-> next chapter | main masterlist here !

prologue ##

@/elliewlliams ..

@/agirlfromcali ..

@/agirlfromcali ..

liked by dinawoodw and 786 others

appreciation post for ma babies🙈🙈 (no training for today is unbelievable ++ finals are kicking my ass fr))

..

@/dinawoodw girl wheres ur face at

@/agirlfromcali no idea (i look like a ghost)

@/sarahhh when r we meeting i missedu💔💔

@/agirlfromcali same heree hope soon bby

@/elliewlliams cute dogs

@/agirlfromcali thanks

@/emwantstoplay SIR?? EXCUSE ME

@/agirlfromcali

liked by elliewlliams and 234 others

here we go again ⚽️⚽️

@/elliewlliams goodluck

[caitified]

OMG YAY ! i don’t see much content for azzi here it’s kind of sad💔 it’s my first time requesting but maybe azzi and reader used to date but broke up because reader went abroad for some time. so azzi starts dating paige after a while but reader comes back and azzi gets confused/conflicted🙏🙏

confused

azzi fudd x reader

warnings:none, but i didn’t read abroad when i first saw your request so sorry about that!

the last night of high school had a bittersweet magic, like the twilight of a long, perfect day. azzi leaned against your car, her eyes a warm blend of laughter and anticipation as she looked at you under the stars.

“we did it,” she said softly, her hand reaching for yours. “after all these years, we’re finally here.”

you squeezed her hand, the familiar warmth of her skin sending a rush through you. azzi had been your everything since middle school, the kind of love people wrote about. and even though she was going to uconn and you’d soon be on the other side of the country at stanford, there was something fierce and hopeful in both of you. you’d make this work—long distance, time zones, anything. you both promised.

but in the weeks that followed, distance crept in slowly, like shadows at dusk. phone calls turned shorter, text messages went unanswered longer, and instagram kept you updated more on her life than she did herself. it was paige who started appearing in those updates the most. paige, laughing with her. paige, meeting her after practices. paige, cheering her on from the stands. paige, who understood her world of basketball in a way you couldn’t.

months passed. your heart grew accustomed to the ache, hoping it would be worth it. until, finally, you’d had enough.

it was a late saturday night when you texted azzi, a small hope sparking that she’d call back. an hour went by. then two. you waited until her online status disappeared into nothing. the silence pressed against you, suffocating.

the breakup was long overdue, yet when it happened, it still felt sudden. you sent a simple message: i think we both deserve better than this. i love you, azzi, but i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay. maybe it’s time we let go.

she responded with a long, agonizing pause. and then, one final text: i understand. i’m so sorry.

for a long time after, it felt like your world had shrunk. but you focused on school, throwing yourself into new friendships and routines. azzi stayed in the background of your life, just out of sight. you saw the news when she and paige became official, saw their faces together across sports feeds, but by then, you were already halfway to moving on.

three years later, standing in the crowded arena in san francisco, you didn’t expect to see her. the golden state valkyries had just announced azzi’s draft, and the crowd buzzed with excitement as she jogged out, looking as stunning and determined as ever. seeing her was like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart.

as she moved through the crowd after the event, signing autographs and hugging teammates, your eyes met hers. time seemed to freeze. she looked at you as though she was seeing a ghost, her face a mix of shock, wonder, and something else.

“hey,” you managed, stepping forward. “congratulations, azzi. you… you made it.”

azzi blinked, regaining her composure. “hey yourself,” she said, her voice soft. “i didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“i live here now,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “life happened.”

a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “yeah, i guess it does.” she glanced over her shoulder, where the crowd still buzzed, and then back at you. “do you have time to catch up? maybe coffee?”

a moment’s hesitation flickered within you. but then you nodded. “sure. coffee sounds good.”

the cafe was quiet, a small place nestled into the heart of the city, far enough from the hustle of the arena that it almost felt hidden. azzi had chosen a table in the corner, a place where the dim lighting and soft music blurred the line between memory and reality.

you sat across from her, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, catching glimpses of her across the table. time had changed her. she was leaner, sharper somehow, the softness of high school replaced by something refined. but there were hints of the girl you once knew—the curve of her smile, the way she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. little things that made your heart clench.

“so… stanford, huh?” she broke the silence, her voice careful, like she was stepping over broken glass.

“yeah. decided to go all in with the academics,” you replied, trying to keep things light. “and you… uconn and now golden state? i knew you’d make it big.”

she laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “it’s been a wild ride. sometimes i still don’t believe it.”

a silence settled between you two, one that felt almost comfortable. it was strange, sitting there with someone who once knew you better than anyone else, and yet now felt like a stranger.

“i saw you with paige,” you said, finally breaking the silence. you kept your tone steady, not accusing, just… curious.

she looked down, her hands wrapped around her cup. “yeah. we… got together after you and i broke up. she was there for me when i was struggling, you know? uconn was intense, and i didn’t know anyone. she made it feel like home.”

there was no bitterness in her voice, just honesty, and somehow that made it hurt less. you had seen it coming; even back in high school, there was something between azzi and paige that was easy and natural, something that used to make you feel like you were on the outside.

“i’m glad,” you said quietly. and you meant it, even if part of you wondered what might have happened if things had been different.

you talked about everything that night—your time at stanford, her life at uconn, the struggles, the triumphs. it was as if the years between you faded with each word, each laugh. and as the hours stretched on, that familiar warmth started creeping back in, like a flame rekindling.

when it was finally time to go, azzi walked you to your car. there was a soft breeze, and the night felt impossibly still.

“it was really good seeing you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. there was something in her eyes, something that made your heart race, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself that she had someone waiting for her.

“you too,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “congrats again, azzi. you’re really… amazing.”

she looked like she wanted to say something more, but she just nodded, stepping back as you got into your car. you watched her in the rearview mirror as you pulled away, her figure growing smaller until she disappeared from sight.

days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, azzi slipped back into your life. she’d text you every now and then, little messages that felt casual on the surface but carried weight in every word. saw something that reminded me of you, she’d write, or remember that time we got caught in the rain? each message was like a breadcrumb, pulling you back toward her.

one evening, you got a text from her. hey, got an extra ticket to the game tonight. want to come?

you hesitated, knowing it could open old wounds, but in the end, curiosity won. you arrived at the arena, slipping into your seat as the lights dimmed. the game was intense, and azzi was incredible—fast, focused, completely in her element. watching her, you felt that old pride swell up, a pride that only grew when she scored the game-winning shot.

afterward, she found you outside, her face still flushed from the game. “thanks for coming,” she said, her smile shy, almost like she was back in high school again.

“i wouldn’t have missed it,” you replied, feeling your heart race as she held your gaze a little too long.

that night, she drove you home. you could feel the tension in the car, thick and electric, the air filled with words unspoken. as she parked outside your place, you hesitated, hand on the door, before you turned back to her.

“this… this feels like old times, doesn’t it?” you asked softly.

she looked down, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “i didn’t realize how much i missed it. missed… you.”

your heart hammered in your chest, but you knew there was someone else, someone who had been there for her when you hadn’t. “azzi… what about paige?”

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “i know. it’s just… i don’t know what to do. paige has been amazing. she’s my best friend, and she’s… she’s everything i thought i wanted. but being around you… it’s different. it’s like i’m back where i belong.”

you reached out, gently taking her hand. “i don’t want to be the reason you hurt someone. but… i also can’t pretend that i don’t feel the same way.”

for a long time, she didn’t respond, her hand warm in yours, her gaze fixed on the street outside. when she finally looked at you, there was a hint of tears in her eyes. “i just need time,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“okay,” you replied softly. “take all the time you need.”

the weeks that followed were torturous. azzi would text, call, ask to meet up, and each time felt like a step closer and a step further away all at once. you knew she was struggling, caught between two lives, two loves, each one pulling her in a different direction. and as much as you wanted her, you didn’t want her to feel forced, didn’t want her to carry the guilt of hurting someone she cared about.

one evening, she showed up at your door unannounced, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion. without a word, you stepped aside, letting her in.

“i ended things with paige,” she said, her voice hollow. “i told her the truth. that my heart wasn’t all hers. that part of me… was still with you.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. you took a step closer, reaching for her hand. “are you okay?” you asked, even though you knew the answer.

she shook her head, her shoulders trembling. “no. but i know this is right. i can’t keep pretending. you… you’re my past, but you’re also my future. and i need to be honest with myself.”

you pulled her into your arms, holding her as she clung to you, her body shaking with the weight of her decision. you knew she would need time to heal, that her heart would need to piece itself back together. but for now, you were here, together, ready to face whatever came next.

[heartkaji]

[ ★ ⸻ @kaiser1ns ]

★ OVERVIEW !

HEYHEYY KIKS !! omg you picked chika, shocker💔 BEFORE WE GET INTO IT, you and chika are the classic bubbly gf x quiet bf !! you’re usually full of energy & very in tune with your emotions while chika prefers to keep his feelings to himself. i think you two complement each other perfectly. being with you, chika’s got no choice but to acknowledge his emotions more & more. and in your case, you learn to be more sensitive to the emotions of others. you two are the perfect contrast that makes for an amazing balance 💘

Q3 — WHO FELL FIRST, WHO FELL HARDER ?

i hate to break it to you gf but you fell first and harder. honestly, i feel like i can’t say chika has actually “fallen” until deeper into your relationship; that’s seven months minimum. at first chika didn’t like you 🧍‍♂️ he found you annoying as hell, always with a smile on your face & full of energy. but on days where you weren’t around to talk his ear off he couldn’t help but feel like something was…missing. at first he’s weirded out by the feeling. the lack of your presence makes him feel odd & hes not sure why—it’s strange alright. very soon after he realizes this, your presence becomes less & less annoying. in fact, it becomes endearing. uh oh.

when chika realizes something isn’t right, he starts ignoring you. he ghosts your texts (you didn’t notice at first because that’s how chika is usually) & simply avoids you at school. at first you don’t think much of it, you’re used to him dismissing you. but when he pretends not to see you one too many times, or walks away while you’re trying to talk to him more than usual, you realize something’s up. at first you’re worried & not sure how to approach him but you decide honesty is the best policy : with the help of endo who loves a good show, you’re able to catch chika alone & confront him about his evasiveness. he refuses to be honest but he stops ignoring you so you decide beggars can’t be choosers 💔 eventually chika does realize he’s in love—well, not in love exactly, but he definitely realizes he feels something more for you than plain familiarity—& though he’s not the one to confess you’re a dear part of his heart. i feel like months into the relationship, chika gets pretty attached. the nonchalant redhead has his nonchalant limits i’m afraid, and deeper into the relationship when dating each other is almost routine chika can’t help but think about you a little more often or be a little more protective. his love is a quiet one but when it’s just you both, you feel it very loudly 💓

Q5 — WHAT DO OTHERS THINK OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP ?

your mother thinks he’s a handsome young man. your father doesn’t like him at ALL. way too violent & would definitely get his daughter in danger. you’re a devil of a girl so you don’t care though—you’d sneak out through as many windows in the dead of night if it means you can run into chika’s arms. on friday nights where curfew is 7pm, you’re often hopping out of your window and unto the nearby tree to make your way down & meet your waiting boyfriend. you greet him with a kiss on the cheek & a clumsy grin. chika quickly turns away & you swear he might be blushing, but hey, we’ll never know 💘

endo has a love-hate relationship with you. he often third wheels your dates with chika, & on those dates you both chat chika’s ear off. it’s refreshing to have someone who he can actually talk with, as chika usually prefers to stay silent. but he also hates how he has to see chika less & less because of you. he’s low key jealous that chika’s paid more attention to you than he ever has to him, but sadly there’s nothing he can do except suck it up and get over it

Q14 — WHAT DO THEY LOVE MOST ABOUT YOU ?

your emotional intelligence. chika finds dating you more easy than not—you know when to leave him alone, you’re never too pushy or nagging—it’s perfect. chika gets suffocated in relationships really easily. i feel like you’re usually all over him, but somehow you can tell when you’re approaching his limit. you know just when to back off, just when to give him space and when to give him affection. it makes things really easy because chika can’t communicate for the life of him. having a partner who knows what to do without said communication makes life much easier 💘

BONUS !

i said chika started liking you more & more when he realized how weird he felt in your absence, but that’s not all. you, miss kiki, have had your eyes on the redhead since day one. and you acted accordingly : you always made sure to give him casual touches, whether it be your fingers grazing his as he lends you a pencil (that you’d conveniently forgotten) or your shoulders bumping into his as you walk together in the halls. endo was the first to notice how your gaze on chika always lingered, or how your ears would turn pink at the sound of his voice. he felt conflicted at first, but ultimately he decided to secretly help you out 💓 whether that be by needing to leave all of a sudden or by dropping out of your group study sessions last minute, endo no doubt played his role of silent matchmaker. he may regret it a little bit now, but hey, you appreciate the help !

#KICHICORE !

>> 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 <<

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[kxsagi]

hellooo kxsagi!!! hope you're prepared for my coming requests... 😈‼️

may i humblyy request a first date oneshot with rin where he's all nervous and shy and like flustered??? and when reader says something sweet he tries to hide the fact his ears are red AWSSSSSAS 🤭 it would be nice if it was an aquarium date (js saying...) 🙊🙏

(i actually requested this before and i'm not sure whether it went thru so i'm so sorry if it's a repeat 💔)

thank u and take care!!!! ❤️‍🩹

“𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡”

a/n: YESSSS THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE

take care as well!!! i love your comments and requests anna girl pls keep them coming (well for requests i mean when my inbox is open again 😭)

you think rin itoshi must be the shyest boy alive. 

not in the awkward, stuttery, can’t-make-eye-contact kind of way, but in the "his ears turn red when you smile at him for too long" kind of way. the kind of shy that hides behind cool silence and narrowed eyes, but crumbles when you call him pretty under glowing jellyfish lights. 

and today? he is crumbling spectacularly. 

he's walking beside you, a stiff 6’1 wall of discomfort, as if the concept of a first date is more terrifying than a championship final. and really, maybe for rin itoshi, it is. he can handle cleats and crowds, but your fingers brushing his on the escalator? that has him malfunctioning in real-time. 

“you’re being weird,” you say sweetly, nudging his arm as you both enter the first tunnel of the aquarium. it’s dark, except for the glittering sapphire glow of the water above and beside you, an entire sea of fish floating like stars. 

“i’m not,” he replies, immediately suspicious. defensive. like a criminal falsely accused. he won’t look at you, just stares very hard at a stingray like it owes him money. 

you laugh, light and musical, and loop your arm through his. he tenses like you just planted a landmine on his body. so dramatic, you think. so adorable. 

“you’re literally walking like i have a knife to your back.” 

“because you’re making fun of me.” 

“i’m not! i’m being affectionate.” 

rin tries very hard not to react. and fails. because his ears? glowing. nuclear. like someone dipped them in strawberry jam. 

you stop walking and tilt your head. “rin.” 

he visibly debates whether to bolt or not. you catch him in time, pressing your hand to his cheek so he can’t turn away, thumb brushing over the warmth blooming there. 

“aw,” you whisper. “look at you. blushing. you’re so cute.” 

he actually groans in agony. 

“why would you say that out loud?” 

“because it’s true?” 

“stop talking.” 

he looks like he might wither. evaporate. ascend. and yet, he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into your palm, just the tiniest bit, like it’s the only thing grounding him. like he can’t help it. 

you grin, absolutely delighted. 

“your ears are red again.” 

“shut up.” 

you’re giggling uncontrollably now, especially when he yanks his hood up like it’s going to protect him from your loving words. “you’re like a little turtle retreating into your shell.” 

“do you want to be left at the otter exhibit.” 

you coo, “ohhh, he’s threatening me now! so scary! should i be trembling?” 

“yes.” 

you wrap both arms around his stiff frame and squeeze. rin makes a noise like a kicked puppy and awkwardly pats your back twice, like someone trying to comfort a ghost. 

the best part? he’s trying. you can feel it in the way his fingers twitch toward yours when you walk again, how he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust his mouth not to betray him. 

so you do the talking. 

“this is fun,” you murmur as you stop in front of a glowing wall of jellyfish, your reflections bathed in soft, dreamy blue. 

“mm.” 

you glance at him. “are you having fun?” 

he hesitates. “... yeah.” 

you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“really?” you whisper. 

his reply is quiet. barely audible. “... because you’re here.” 

and it hits you, soft as seafoam – rin itoshi doesn’t need a lot of words. he doesn’t need grand gestures. all it takes is one quiet truth, wrapped in a mumble, delivered with ears glowing red, for your whole chest to melt. 

you look up at him with a smile so sweet it could ruin him. 

he tries to scowl. tries. but his lips twitch up at the corners anyway. 

“you’re not gonna let me live this down, are you.” 

“absolutely not.” 

and when you raise your phone for a picture, he sighs, tugs you in by the waist, and looks into the camera with a blush and the softest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

jellyfish glowing behind you. your hands tangled together. 

and rin, flustered, adorable, totally yours. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[aventurineswife]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Noah (OC) x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Toxic Attraction, Power Struggles, Psychological Manipulation, Slow Burn, Angst & Tension, Violence & Blood, Forbidden Love, Obsession & Possession, Morally Grey Characters, Push & Pull Relationship.

Warnings: Violence & Gore (Blood, gunplay, injury descriptions), Psychological Manipulation & Gaslighting, Toxic & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Death & Immortality Themes, Emotional & Psychological Turmoil, Obsession & Possessiveness, Mafia/Crime Themes (Murder, power struggles, organized crime) (?), Mature Themes (Dark romance, intense emotional/physical tension).

A/N: this is just an excuse to write Sylus and my oc, Noah, because this song suits them so well 😔💔 (and because I'm not okay after watching the official mv).

The first time you hear his voice, it's a whisper in the dark—a ghost of something long buried, something that should have stayed dead. But he’s real, standing before you with a smirk playing at his lips, red eyes gleaming like molten fire.

“Miss me?”

You hate him.

And yet, when the bullet stops mid-air, when the world slows to the pull of his power, it’s his voice that anchors you. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a heartbeat too long, too dangerous. His right eye glows, and in that split second, you swear you hear it again—an echo not of his voice, but of something deeper, something threading through your very being.

Your fingers twitch, the weight of the gun he gave you heavier than it should be. The metal is cold against your palm, but his touch as he curls his hand over yours is searing. “Go on,” Sylus taunts, pressing the barrel over his own heart. His smile never wavers. “Pull the trigger. End your nightmare.”

You want to. You want to erase him, to erase the way he makes you feel—this unbearable pull, this infuriating magnetism that chains you to him. But your hands tremble, and his smirk deepens as if he already knew you wouldn’t do it.

The shot rings out.

His body jerks. A moment of stillness. Then he laughs, low and dark, as red blossoms across his chest. And right before your eyes, the wound vanishes, leaving nothing but the memory of your hesitation.

“Pathetic,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You say you hate me, but your hands tell me otherwise.”

Your breath is ragged, your pulse unsteady. “I do hate you.”

“Liar.”

The word coils around you like a snake, suffocating, inescapable. You should run. You should kill him. But instead, you stand there, frozen in the firestorm of his gaze.

You love him. You hate him.

It’s all the same, isn’t it?

The first time you saw him, he was a shadow at the edge of your world. A force both magnetic and terrifying. Noah—Mafia King, Arbiter of Justice, Immortal enigma.

You knew he was dangerous, yet your heart never heeded the warnings.

I love you, I hate you, I love you, I hate you…

The words echo in your mind like a curse. A rhythm you cannot escape. The mantra of your existence with him.

He watches you from across the room, golden light flickering against his sharp features. One brown eye locked onto you, the other forever hidden behind that damned eyepatch, concealing a truth you were never sure you wanted to see.

“I should stay away from you,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “You ruin everything you touch.”

A slow smirk curves his lips. “And yet, here you are.”

Your hands tremble at your sides. Your heart pounds a desperate war drum against your ribs. You should leave. Run. Forget the way his voice wraps around you like silk and steel. Forget the taste of his name on your tongue.

But you don’t.

You never do.

My best enemy is you.

He steps forward, slow, deliberate. The air between you is electric, alive with an unspoken war neither of you can win. His gloved fingers brush against your wrist, the touch barely there, yet it sends lightning through your veins.

“I hurt you,” he murmurs. It’s not an apology. It never is. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Your breath catches, something sharp lodging itself in your throat. “Because you always find me first.”

A chuckle, dark and amused. “You like being caught.”

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to steady. “I hate you.”

He tilts his head, studying you like a predator toying with prey. “Then why do you look at me like that?”

Your nails bite into your palms. The answer is too cruel, too honest to speak aloud. Because despite the blood on his hands, despite the shadows curling around his soul—you love him.

And that is the cruelest curse of all.

His lips ghost over your ear, his voice a whisper of prophecy. “You’ll never leave me.”

You shudder. He’s right.

He’s always right.

Flee from me, the worst is you and I.

But you don’t move.

And neither does he.

[sashasspace]

 HEARTBREAKER CHALLENGE 💔

I was inspired to do a different gameplay and the heartbreaker challenge ideas came to me as I wanted to create a mini LP to explore the new sims 4 expansion pack Lovestruck, so I made it into a whole challenge 😂

The goal is to become the ultimate heartbreaker 

What you must complete ✅

You must be heartbroken first to embark on this journey!

As a result of the heartbreak, your Sim must have either the erratic trait or the evil trait plus one of the new traits from lovestruck!

It’s recommended your Sims to have another not so savory trait (ex: noncommittal, paranoid, hates children, snob, kleptomaniac..)

Keep breaking Sims’s hearts until until one of them passes away from heartbreak

Summon the ghost of a heartbroken sim, win their heart back just to break it again 

Extra tasks✨

Complete the Villainous Valentine aspiration

Make sure to have a horrible date to the point the Sim wants to cancel the date

Make sure majority of your friends list hates you

Witness the death of 3 sims and get outlived my enemy moodlet at least one time

Make a sim’s partner die from a heartbreak (not your love interest)

Try to have a romantic dynamic with one sim to see what they bring out you

Change the mind of a sim who doesn’t find your sim attractive and break their heart for even thinking that 

Set up sims to date using hook up feature from city living then when they get hooked up, start flirting with said sim and have the friend who you hooked up catch you guys in the act!

Vlog your messy life like it’s a reality tv show and see if you can get banned from switch mod

Steal money after you stole someone’s heart

Add a strange quirk to your sim to make them unique

Use extreme violence mod or life's drama to spice it up!

Thanks for reading this and if you play with this challenge, please tag me. I'd love to see the mess!

[whentheresnojustagirl]

possession is legit my favorite season anyways

WUS REACTION TO MORROS DEATH 😞😞😭

Morro spent the entirety of the season screaming at Wu “I HATE YOU YOU FAILED ME YOU MADE ME THINK I WAS THE GREEN NINJA YOU DID THIS TO ME ILL KILL YOU ILL KILL YOU ALL”, possessed his NEPHEW so Lloyd was under and ungodly amount of psychological pain n stress, and was like,,, a huge menace

AND YET WU STILL

TRIED

TO

SAVE

HIM

like!!

he was legit begging Morro to take his hand and come with him 💔💔 “emo son no don’t kys I love you :(“

MORROS LITERALLY HIS SON IT KILLS ME MAN TJAYS HIS BOY!! HIS BOY WHO FOUND UIM, WHO HE TRAINED, I know Wu believed he himself failed Morro way before he came back and said it to his face!! Wu blamed himself everyday I know he did he missed his SON so much he feels so horrible “I told him too much. It was so much for a child to bear, how could I have done that to him? It’s all my fault, Morro my Morro how I wish I could apologize” LIKE MAN 😭😭😭😭😭

Wu SCREAMED when Morro died!! He was calmer when his BROTHER GARMADON was getting sucked into the cursed realm-

(my own crappy theory/hc is bc Wu had already grieved him for years on end when Garmadon went full evil and left the monastery. Wu already experienced and processed his brother’s death and got to reconnect POSITIVELY when he came back!! Garmadon going to the cursed realm was by his own choice, not because of wu’s “mistake” of letting garmadon go over the wall which made him get bit by the great devourer. Garmadon wasn’t ripped away from him like before, and Wu already grieved him so!! It wasn’t as painful as the first time,, well it probably was actually but he didn’t break down publicly. Garmadon and Wu they could never make me think you guys were bad people 💔Wus a good brother man)

-meanwhile, when Morro, his ex student now a ghost who kept trying to kill him dissolved into water, he literally SCREAMED. “MORROO D:” !!

He was so genuinely DEVASTATEd MAN THATS HIS SON THATS HIS SON THATS HIS SON SOBS SCREAMS

Like

HE ALREADY FAILED MORRO BEFORE WHEN HE WAS HIS STUDENT, MORRO LEFT, HE DIED, NOT ONLY THAT BUT HE GOT SENT TO THE CURSED REALM, AND WU DIDNT PROTECT HIM, HE LET HIM LEAVE, WUS THE ONE THAT MADE HIM THINK HE WAS THE GREEN NINJ, WU !! COULDNT !! SAVE HIM !! HE COULDNT SAVE HIS SON LIKE HE COULDNT SAVE HIS BROTHER AND IK HE FEEPS RESPONSIBLE FOR BOTH THEIR DOWNFALLS HE BLAMES HIMSELF IT EATS HIM UP AT NIGHT NO MATTER HOW MANY MORE NINJA HE TRAINS NO MATTER WHAT HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE FACT HE’S PERSONALLY FAILRD ALL OF HIS FSMILY.. HIS SON HIS BROTHER 😭😭😭😭😭

Wu already dealt with losing Morro once when the boy left!! He failed to save him once, AND THEN MORRO DIDNT GO WITH HIM. HE LET HIMSELF DIE IN THE WATER. WU FAILED. TO. SAVE. HIS. SON. TWICE. HE HAD TO SEE HIS SON DIE BOTH TIMES. AND EACH TIME IT KILLED HIM. I KNOw IT DID. HIS SON. DIED. TWICE. AND. HE. FAILED!!! THEY MAKE ME SO SAD 😭😭😭😭

Wu loved Morro! He always loved his son, even when he was doing all that sh he saw his son, HE ALWAYS TRIED TO TALK TO MORRO MAN. HE KEPT. TRYING. TO TALK IT OUT. WU TRIED SO HARD TO SAVE HIM TIME AND TIME AGAIN, AND EACH TIME MORRO THREW IT IN HIS FACE AND REJECTED IT TO CONTINUE WITH HIS PLAN AND WUUU COULDNT SAVE HIM HE COULDNT SAVE HIS SON HE FAILED HIS SON GUUYYYYYS

“you can only save those who want to be saved. Goodbye, sensei.” Dies

Wu like WHY MORRO!! WHY DONT YOU WANT TO BE SAVED, LET ME SAVE YOU ☹️ I MISS YOU, YOU WERE MY FIRST PUPIL, I KEEP FAILING YOU. LET ME SAVE YOU, IM SORRY. ILL KEEP TRYING TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE THERES GOOD IN YOU, YOU WOULDVE BEEN A GOOD, GREAT MAN IF I DIDNT TELL YOU ABOUT THE GREEN NINJA. IF I DIDNT BUILD YOUR HOPES UP. I DID THIS TO YOU, IM SORRY, COME HOME, LET ME SAVE YOU. YOU CAN BE GOOD, YOU ARE GOOD, MY SON 😭😭

Wu never stopped trying to save Morro it kills me. His son. His son. Wu can’t catch a break. He keeps losing his family. Why. No wonder he looks so old ITS THE STRESS MAN THE STRESS

Also jfc after season 5 how badly do you think Morros return ripper open Wus old wound. It haunts him but he managed to live with it then his son is back and the hurt comes back but worse all over. Look. Look at what’s become of Morro, Wu. Your son’s a ghost. Banished to the cursed realm. He didn’t find peace even in death, he’s been stuck all these years, you let him go you let him die and he’s worse off than ever. He hates you. Does it hurt, sensei? I wished I got more of sensei being sad abt Morro 💔 the death scene has a grip on me holy

Morro had to get the last word in the argument smh now I’m sad about him at 3 in the morning.

Anyway rip sensei Wu his family keeps dying. Augh