#he hates the thought of having lost everything

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, underserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[loulou-land]

'Cause all of my enemies started out friends

So, I have no idea what this is, I just needed to work through some feelings. This was a challenge to write because its 95% dialogue heavy and that's never been my strong suit. But I really needed Tommy and Eddie to argue apparently. Fair warning, this isn't Eddie friendly, though I really tried not to go into character bashing. Please let me know if I need to include a warning for that.

Spoilers for 8x17 | arguing, mentions of grief, mild physical altercation, dialogue heavy, mild hurt/comfort | 1,625 words

“What did you say to him?” Tommy asks when he comes into the kitchen. 

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?” Eddie doesn’t look at him, just keeps stacking dishes in the sink. 

Tommy folds his arms, keeping a careful distance. “You’re the one who cut ties, Diaz. And believe me, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have to.” 

He hates that it’s come to this. Eddie had been a good friend—someone Tommy genuinely thought understood him. But then he’d dropped him without a word, like he was yesterday's trash. And yeah, that had hurt more than Tommy wants to admit. He gets it, loyalty is complicated, and Evan was Eddie’s best friend. Still, that doesn’t excuse whatever’s been going on between them lately. Not when it’s left Evan looking so small and acting skittish. 

Eddie scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Tommy says, locking eyes with him, “I’m pretty sure Evan left a lot out when he told me what happened. He downplayed it. I can see it in how careful he is around you. Like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. So I’ll ask again—what did you say to him?” 

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, shaking his head. “That’s what this is about? We had an argument. We moved past it—or at least I thought we did. But of course, Buck’s making it out to be bigger than it was. Making it all about him again. Has to be the one hurting the most.” 

Tommy stills. His voice, when it comes out, is quiet but razor sharp. “Is that what you told him? That he’s making it about himself?”  

Eddie finally looks at him, like he’s surprised Tommy’s even making an issue of this. 

“Eddie,” Tommy continues, voice tight with restraint, “Bobby died. His father in everything but blood. Evan’s allowed to hurt. However loud, however long he needs to. You don’t tell someone how to grieve.”

Something shifts in Eddie’s expression, turning defensive, bitter. “I lost Bobby too. And you—god, you don’t have any idea what that was like for me. For any of us. You’re not part of the 118. Not our 118.” 

The words cut straight through him, but Tommy doesn’t flinch. He takes a breath, rubs a hand through his hair, grounding himself. 

“You’re right. I’m not part of your family. But Bobby still meant something to me. And I was there Eddie. I might not have seen what it did to you, I saw what it did to Evan though. You didn’t—”

He pauses, remembering how helpless he felt, watching Evan break through a tiny screen, being unable to get to him. He meets Eddie’s stare, “You didn’t watch him fall apart.” 

“I should’ve been there,” Eddie says, sidestepping Tommy’s statement. Tommy wishes he could be surprised, but he’s starting to understand why Evan doesn’t feel like he can talk about his feelings. “I could’ve done something. I—”

Tommy lets out a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where you’re a miracle worker? A genius scientist with a cure in your back pocket?” 

Eddie squares his shoulders, puffing up with practiced intimidation. Tommy nearly rolls his eyes, but he knows baiting him won’t help. 

Still, Eddie stalks closer, jaw clenched. “Fuck you. You—”

“We all did what we could,” Tommy snaps, finally losing some of his own restraint. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. I really am. But don’t take your guilt out on Evan. He’s already drowning in his own and still trying to take care of everyone at the same time.”  

Eddie scoffs. “He’s spiraling, that’s what he is. And what the hell do you even know about Buck’s guilt? His pain?” he shoots back. “You dumped him. Left him.  And now what? He puts out one time and suddenly you think that gives you the right to waltz back in. He’s hurting, and you’re using that to your advantage.” 

Tommy’s whole body tenses. He can’t believe Eddie is insinuating he’s using Evan. That he would be that kind of person. And using the worst mistake he’d ever made, leaving Evan, against him? Something he’s regretted from the moment he left. 

He inhales sharply, fist clenched at his sides. Not because he’s thinking of swinging—never that. But the bite of his nails digging into his palms helps ground him. 

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again, Diaz. Or to Evan, for that matter,” he says, trembling with anger. “I’m here for him—in whatever way he needs me. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not expecting anything. Which is more that I can say for you.” 

Eddie reels back, nostrils flaring. His eyes flash angrily and Tommy braces himself. 

“No,” Eddie growls. “You don’t understand. Don’t pretend you know anything about our relationship.” 

“I know Evan!” Tommy interrupts. He refuses to let Eddie bait him with that dig. 

“You don’t know what Buck and I have been through. The bond we have. He’s like a brother to me.” 

Tommy stares at him, incredulous. “Brother?” He huffs out a sharp breath. “You barely treat him like a friend.” 

Eddie’s face twists. He jabs a finger toward Tommy’s face. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand.” 

Tommy doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just meets Eddie’s fury head-on. 

“Diaz,” he says, voice tightly controlled. “Back off, before I break that finger.” 

“I love Buck. He’s family,” Eddie snaps, using the words like a defense. Like that single word erases all the damage he’s done.

Tommy bites the side of his cheek to hold in his immediate response. He breathes through it. Damn it. He’s not going to throw a punch. Not at someone Evan still loves, still looks up to—even if they don’t deserve it right now. 

He won’t be the one to hurt the people Evan holds close. Not even when they’ve done plenty of damage themselves. 

Tommy exhales, slow and steady. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie asks, a hitch in his voice now. 

Tommy meets his eyes, unflinchingly. “You call it love, Eddie. But love doesn’t make someone feel like a burden. Love doesn’t kick you when you’re down. Love doesn’t twist the knife when they’re already bleeding.” 

The words seem to land like a strike. 

Eddie flinches, staggering back half a step like the air’s been punched from his lungs. 

For a second, Tommy thinks that’s it. That he’s finally gotten through to him. 

Maybe now Eddie will actually take a look at himself—really look—apologize to Evan, try to do better. 

He gives him too much credit. 

Eddie’s face hardens, shutters down—and then he comes swinging. It takes Tommy off guard. He moves, but not fast enough, and the punch clips him on the side of the head. He’s already bracing to restrain Eddie when—

“Stop!” 

They both turn toward the entryway, where Evan stands. He’s breathing hard, eyes wide, clearly upset. It’s obvious, he’s been there a while, listening. 

Tommy feels a wave of regret crash over him. He never wanted Evan to hear any of this, let alone witness them like this. 

“You should leave,” Evan says quietly. 

Tommy’s heart sinks—until he realizes Evan isn’t looking at him. He’s staring straight at Eddie. 

“Me? Are you serious right now?” Eddie asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, Eddie. You.” Evan’s voice is sharp, angry. “You swung at Tommy. What the hell?” 

“Oh, of course you’re taking his side,” Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“This isn’t about sides,” Evan snaps. “You need to cool off. Before you dig yourself an even bigger grave.” 

His voice shakes with fury, but there’s a note of something else underneath. Hurt, exhaustion. Tommy sees it in the tremble of Evan’s hands, the rigid way he’s holding himself upright. 

“Just…leave. Don’t come back unless you’re ready to talk like a civil person, and apologize. To Tommy. And…to me.” 

He meets Eddie’s eyes squarely, head held high. Tommy watches, quietly awed. He knows how much it’s costing Evan to say this, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Tommy turns to Eddie worriedly. He can see it—the poison gathering behind his teeth, just waiting to spew out. 

“Eddie,” Tommy says softly, tiredly. Almost pleading. “Please. Take a walk.” 

Eddie glances between them. Something finally sinks in, because the fight drains out of him. He turns without another word and walks out the back door. The door slamming shut behind him. 

Tommy exhales in relief. He looks at Evan, who’s still watching the door with a sad, distant expression. 

“Hey,” Tommy says gently. “I’m sorry.” 

Evan frowns, eyes welling with tears. “Tommy, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You—” he pauses, swallowing hard. “You stood up for me.” His voice cracks on the last word. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He moves toward him, and Evan meets him halfway. They fall into each other, hugging tightly, grounding themselves in each other. Tommy runs a soothing hand down Evan’s back, trying to steady the tremors in his body. 

After a long moment, Evan whispers, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I…I could’ve done it. But th—thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Tommy says fiercely. “I’m here for you.” 

Evan shudders, then pulls back slightly, offering him a small, smile. “I know.” 

He squeezes Tommy’s hand, then glances down at his lips. 

Tommy lifts his hands, cradling Evan’s face gently, and kisses him softly. 

They stay there, foreheads pressed together, breathing in sync, taking comfort in each other. 

They’ll have to deal with Eddie later. Sift through the wreckage and make sense of where they go from here. But for now, it’s enough that they have one another. They’re in this together. 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 || 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ||

A/n: Got asked to write a second part so here it is when Steve does not stay in the 1940's but returns to the Reader instead

Warnings: Soft / desperate smut

The wind is sharp and biting, a constant chill against Steve’s skin as he steps back onto the platform.

His breath hitches, eyes sweeping over the room. Bucky is there, jaw clenched, waiting. Sam stands beside him, brow furrowed in confusion. The air is heavy, thick with tension and unspoken questions.

But Steve’s eyes search for only one person.

You.

You’re standing at the back of the room, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes wide and disbelieving. Your chest rises and falls with rapid, shallow breaths, and your lips part as you stare at him.

Steve feels the weight of it — everything he almost lost, everything he nearly gave up. And he knows. God, he knows.

Peggy was his past. A memory frozen in time, a life that could never be.

But you — you’re his now. You’re his future.

He steps forward, his boots heavy against the platform. Bucky and Sam exchange a glance but say nothing. It’s Bucky who steps back, a subtle nod in Steve’s direction, his expression soft and understanding.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact with you as he closes the distance, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

You’re trembling, tears glistening in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Steve,” you whisper, your voice so small, so broken. “You… you came back.”

Steve swallows thickly, his own eyes shining. “I couldn’t leave you,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I thought… I thought she was what I wanted. What I needed.” He shakes his head, the words tumbling out of him. “But she’s not. You are.”

It's the truth, and it was something he was so close to losing. He can almost see it, a flash in his eyes, a look into another future, another time line when you are no longer his.

And god he hates that.

Your lips tremble, a sob escaping as you cover your mouth with a shaking hand. “Steve…”

“I was an idiot,” Steve continues, his voice breaking. “The moment I got trapped in that ice… I stopped being hers. I was never hers again. I’ve been yours ever since I woke up. And I nearly threw it away.”

A single tear slips down your cheek, and Steve can’t take it anymore. He closes the distance, his hands cupping your face as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, the words heavy and thick with emotion. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart.”

Your hands rise to clutch his wrists, your fingers digging into his skin as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear again. “I thought… I thought you left me,” you choke out, your voice cracking. “I thought you chose her over me.”

Steve shakes his head, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to your forehead. “Never again,” he promises, his lips trembling against your skin. “I’m home. I’m right here. With you. Always.”

Your sobs break free then, and Steve pulls you against his chest, arms wrapping around you as if he could hold all your shattered pieces together. You clutch at his back, fingers fisting in his shirt as you bury your face in his neck.

Steve closes his eyes, breathing you in, feeling the warmth of your body against his. This — this is home. Not a dance in the past, not a memory of what could have been.

This. You. Here and now.

And he’s never letting go again.

Steve’s lips crash against yours the moment the door closes behind you.

His hands are everywhere — cupping your jaw, sliding down your back, gripping your waist as if he’s terrified you’ll disappear. His breath is ragged, mingling with yours, each kiss deeper, more desperate than the last.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, closer. The air between you is electric, charged with all the words left unsaid, all the aching, gut-wrenching longing.

“Missed you,” Steve growls, his voice thick, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, his palms searing against your skin. “God, missed you so much.”

His lips move to your neck, sucking, biting, marking, as if he needs to prove to himself that you’re real, that you’re here. Your head falls back, a moan slipping free as his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Steve,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you down the hall, his eyes locked on yours, dark and desperate.

Your back hits the wall, and he pins you there, his hips grinding against yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing against your core through his jeans. The friction sends sparks shooting up your spine, and you arch against him, rolling your hips to meet his.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his forehead dropping to yours, his chest heaving. “Need you. Need you right now.”

You shiver, your hands scrambling to tug his shirt up and over his head, your fingers skimming over the hard planes of muscle, the warmth of his skin. He’s solid beneath your touch, real and here and yours.

“Take me,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Steve, please.”

He groans, pressing another bruising kiss to your lips before carrying you to the bedroom, the journey a blur of heated kisses and wandering hands.

When he lays you down on the bed, his eyes roam over you, dark and intense, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reach for him, fingers hooking into his waistband, tugging him closer.

But he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head as he hovers over you, his gaze burning into yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, voice a rough, needy rasp. “You’re mine, and I need you to know that.”

You nod, breath hitching, thighs clenching as his knee presses between your legs, spreading you wider beneath him. “I’m yours,” you breathe, voice cracking. “Always.”

A shudder rolls through him, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, devouring, consuming. His hands are everywhere, tearing away your clothes, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, down to your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hardened peak, and you cry out, hips bucking up against him.

“Steve,” you gasp, back arching off the bed as he moves lower, his mouth blazing a path down your stomach, teeth grazing your hip bones.

When he settles between your thighs, his breath hot against your aching core, you whimper, fingers fisting in the sheets. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the raw hunger in them makes your heart stutter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice reverent as he drags his tongue up your slit, slow and deliberate. Your legs tremble, a moan spilling from your lips as he circles your clit, sucking gently before plunging his tongue inside you.

You’re a trembling, moaning mess beneath him, your hips rocking against his face, thighs quivering as he devours you like a man starved. The heat builds, tighter and tighter, until you’re sobbing his name, your body shattering beneath him.

But he doesn’t stop.

Steve rises, his lips shiny with your slick, and he shoves his jeans down, his cock springing free, thick and hard and dripping. He crawls over you, pressing the blunt head against your entrance, his eyes locked on yours.

“You ready?” he rasps, voice strained, his jaw tight as he holds himself back.

“Yes,” you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. “Please.”

He pushes in, slow and deep, and the stretch burns, the sensation of him filling you so perfectly, so completely, that you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips.

Steve shudders, a groan ripping from his throat as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours. He stills, chest heaving, his forehead dropping to yours as he breathes you in.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “So perfect. So mine.”

“Yours,” you echo, clinging to him as he begins to move, slow and deep, each thrust hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

His hands slide beneath you, lifting your hips higher as he fucks you harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your nails rake down his back, your cries growing louder, his name a litany on your lips.

“Say it,” he growls, his pace brutal now, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your body writhing beneath him. “I’m yours, Steve. Always.”

And that’s all it takes. Steve’s thrusts grow frantic, his movements rough and desperate as he chases his release, his eyes locked on yours.

“Come with me,” he grits out, his thumb circling your clit, his cock hitting that spot over and over until you’re falling apart beneath him, your body tightening, spasming, as you shatter around him.

Steve follows with a hoarse, broken moan, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills himself, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

You hold him as he trembles above you, your hands stroking through his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to you.

And when he finally lifts his head, his eyes soft and vulnerable, you cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you whisper, “You’re home.”

Steve closes his eyes, a tear slipping free as he presses a kiss to your palm.

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I’m home.”

[whoisraii]

☆ WIN IT FOR YOU — LN4

summary: it was his home race and all he wanted to do was win it for you...

LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: Lando Norris x f!reader

word count: 13.8k

cw: slow burn, happy ending, fluff, use of y/n, race calendar skipped after miami <3

note: request on my blog<3 okay this is like the first fic I wrote in months...kinda let my fingers slip...hope I did lando justice with this one 😭...also like the Lando hate is forced in my opinion...like give the guy a break he already has a lot on his plate..

Playlist for this fic <3 Artists in this playlist: • The Neighbourhood • Taylor Swift • Harry Styles • Lorde • Conan Gray • Frank Ocean • Lana Del Rey

THE SOUND OF FLASH shot in the room echoing on the walls...the air conditioner chilled the room as jacob redefined his pose for the next cover photo…(Y/n) softly hummed as her fingers perfected the shot and another sound of the flash echoed across the room…Jacob clears his throat as she gets lost in the controls of her camera… “You know…we have been here for 4 hours (Y/n)…I think it's time we wrap it up now..don't we?”

(Y/n) sighed as she nodded… “Yeah..good idea..I’ll go home load these up on my laptop and get them done by tomorrow..how does that sound?” Jacob nodded and got out of the chair and walked to the nearby table and uncapped a disposable bottle and gulped half of it down in one go… The sound of zips was heard as (Y/n) packed up all the equipment and slinged her duffel bag across her shoulder as she walked downstairs from the studio…

Her consciousness was pretty blurred due to the earphones blaring music at full volume in her ears as she took out her umbrella and shook it open putting it above her head as she began to walk across the street while scrolling on her feed…Suddenly a horn blared up and (Y/n)’s eyes widened…she looked to her left and it was almost too late…the car was just too close… (Y/n) groaned as it hit her almost softly, being braked at almost the perfect time…A guy got out of the car as she groaned rubbing her thigh… “If I was you…I’d at least keep one ear open while scrolling like that in the middle of the street” The guy said in one go…He had curly hair..tanned skin…and a look in his eyes she quite couldn’t place a finger on.. “I’m sorry..” (Y/n) mumbled as she looked around…Her eyes fell on the time on her phone screen as it displayed the number 7:30pm boldly on the top of her lockscreen…she fixed herself quickly before muttering an apology to the man and quickly making a run to the bus stop with her umbrella shielding her as much as it could… What had she been thinking when she had told Jacob that she would have given him the photos by tomorrow…hell she didn't even know if she was going to make it to her dorm to finish her assignment and turn it in by the deadline she had…

The bus ride had been really quiet…even with her earphones in her ears…it just wasn't like the other times she took the bus…(Y/n) would be lying if she said that everything felt normal nowadays…in fact if she had to phrase the mental bullshit she had been undergoing…everything felt late, weird, time consuming and unfruitful… Sure she was a perfect student with a part time job as a florist…But it wasn't as easy as she had thought when she had started out…being a history major…oh that was worse… It took her the exact time of an hour and eleven minutes to complete that damn paper that was sitting in her portals with a deadline that was about to end at 57 minutes…she hit submit before opening the editing app before exporting jacob’s photos and getting to work… An hour passed as she finally finished editing half the pictures…(Y/n) groaned as she held her head and rose from her bed and walked herself to the kitchen to get herself a coffee…she was scrolling on her phone while the coffee was being prepped… That’s when he saw him…the same guy from the evening…but..oh..Oh..oh lord what the actual fuck…(Y/n)’s eyes widened… “He’s an F1 driver?” Her mind and mouth spoke at the same time as her brows scrunched and her fingers almost in a trance clicked on the profile by itself…it was the team’s page…the coffee machine dinged as it pulled her back to reality…she took her coffee and dragged herself back to her bed… Pushing the laptop screen open she typed out the name of the team on a web browser…the results flooded in as she read two names side by side… “Lando Norris…Oscar Piastri” Both were F1 drivers and she just so happened to almost get run over by one of them…(Y/n) shrugged as she closed the window…she tucked the laptop back into her backpack as she put it under her bed and pulled the covers on herself…skipping dinner was really normal about her… It just happened one time right? She just happened to be the person who almost got run over by an f1 driver…but would it?...would it really be just one time?

It was a sunday…nothing special…nothing weird…just a normal sunday…(Y/n) had just pulled up to her weekend job at 8am in the morning…She unlocked the shop and smiled as the smell of fresh flowers flooded her nostrils… Every weekend (Y/n) opened up the shop in the morning and the actual owner…her boss…a sweet 68 year old lady she had always called ‘kylie’ would come in late…(Y/n) cleaned up the shelves as she got everything sorted out and ready when suddenly the bell rang and someone stepped in…

(Y/n) had her back turned to the customer as she hummed cleaning the back desk…she let them pick out what they wanted to buy…and finally she heard the ring on the counter indicating that the customer was ready for her to wrap the flowers and help them buy it.. “Hey there! Good morning, what can I help you with…” Raina’s voice faded as her eyes met with the greenish blue orbs staring back at her… “And…we meet again?” Lando smirks as he hands her a handful of roses and daisies… ‘weird match but works’ (Y/n) thought as she bound the flowers and trimmed the stems… “yea…” Raina chuckled “Surprise…I work here..” She huffed out as looked back at him.. “Okay brown paper or a basic cover or a vase? And like do you want a film over it or just for me to bind it up for you?” (Y/n) mumbled out the now very natural question to which Lando quietly replied “Brown…and no film just bind it up..” He gave her a lopsided smile…which (Y/n) gladly returned… A few minutes later (Y/n) was done binding them up..she billed out everything before looking up at him… “Cash or Card?” another trained question leaving her mouth but with a genuine smile ghosting her lips… “Cash..” Lando smiled as she told him the amount to which he handed her that…while the receipt printed out a mentally phrased question made it out of her mouth without even realizing… “Roses and daisies are a weird combination to give to your girlfriend”...Lando chuckled as she said that and her eyes widened… “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…” “don't worry…it didn't offend me…they are for my sister…it's more of an inner meaning kind of thing…it's going to take a lot of time if i'm going to explain it right now…” The sound of the machine whirling beeped as the receipt was finally printed …she tore it off and handed him the receipt… Lando stood there for a second his eyes roaming over the receipt as he gave a nod before starting to walk off…but just as he was about to…he turned around and smiled “looks like someone did their homework…I never told you my name headphone girl” Realization dawned over (Y/n) as she checked the system…she had typed his name like it was a natural habit onto the receipt without even realizing… “See you around!” Three last words she had heard as the bell dings indicating that lando was now gone…and for some stupid reason..she smiled at the roses and daisies the entire day

As time passed..whenever Lando was in town he would just come by and sit for hours with her as she worked her shift on the weekends…Once he had asked her what her favorite flowers were…to which (Y/n) had replied lavenders without a second thought…she loved them…As time passed (Y/n) found herself wrapping a few lavenders for lando almost twice or thrice each week…

“I think I'm starting to like lavenders a bit too…” He would say any time she confronted him about it…Sometimes he would come to buy a bouquet and bring coffee and end up staying there till she would close up…

And just like that Lando Norris became a regular in the shop almost each weekend when he was in town…A few months into Lando being regular..kylie decided to meet the ‘Regular guy who gives me business’ and she loved him…absolutely adored him…maybe even more than she adored (Y/n)...

(Y/n)’s last week of uni was lingering as finals drained her mentally…She had talked to Kylie about being a regular full time for the shop to which Kylie had happily agreed and raised her pay a bit…As she handed in her last exam of her life…she sighed softly closing her pen and holding her head…she was independent..fully independent now…

She had now achieved what she wanted to be since she was 11…to be secure...to be independent…Ever since Lando had entered her life..the monotone feeling had disappeared…she had someone she could rely on genuinely…a close comforting bond built over a concerning amount of cups of coffee and hours of just pure talking about anything and everything in their lives…Lando had managed to get (Y/n) involved in F1 as well…she found herself at 4am waking up to watch the races…in a way it was just her way of showing Lando gratitude for pulling her out of the ditch an year ago…and in another way she had grown a soft spot for the sport…in a way it was comforting even if she was yelling at her screen about the shit strategies ferrari had and how horribly they treated their driver…

“No matter how much I like them…I’d question my existence too if I was Charles…” (Y/n) would say to Lando any time he asked her about why she had a soft spot for the Ferrari team…He had healed her and she would write him a hundred thankyou letters to him…

(Y/n) makes her way out of uni as she takes the bus to the flower shop to see kylie and Lando already waiting for her near the counter…Raina went inside and hugged kylie as kylie handed her the keys to the shop because kylie would be taking a vacation for the next week…a really hard earned one…when kylie walked out (Y/n) turned to Lando and hugged him tightly…

“How was the exam?” Lando smiled softly at her as his arms found her waist wrapping around them tightly returning the hug… “I made it…guess uni is finally over…” The pair decided to sit down behind the counter waiting for any new customers…a few came in and left with their bouquets and just like that…it was closing time…(Y/n) and Lando quickly shut the door off and went to the back rooms so that (Y/n) could pack up.. Lando leans against the shelves, watching her like he always does — quiet, patient, present. The sound of the door clicking shut echoes faintly through the empty shop. Outside, the sky’s already dimming, soft orange hues brushing the windows. (Y/n) pulls her hoodie over her head and finishes tying up her hair. “So… that’s it? You’re officially done?” The words leave Lando's mouth in the softest and most soothing way as the question hangs in the atmosphere as (Y/n) continues packing her bag…she exhales like she has been holding everything in for days…her head bobbs softly as she nods… “Yeah. No more exams. No more weird group projects. No more 3 a.m. breakdowns over citation formats.” A grin spreads across Lando’s face…“I don’t know, I kind of liked those 3 a.m. rants. They were very… expressive.” He fixes his posture as he puts his back on the wall and (Y/n) faces him resting on the shelves…“You liked watching me spiral?” She smirked “Only a little.” The words left Lando’s mouth as they both cracked up a smile which developed into laughter which quickly resided into a comforting silence… “I thought I’d feel more… I don’t know, proud? Relieved? But it’s weird. It’s like everything just got quiet all of a sudden.” (Y/n) shrugs as she looks outside of the window… “It's like…everything just came to a halt and now I'm just…hanging..” 

“Sometimes it takes a minute to catch up to the feeling.” Lando looked down into her eyes as they exchanged a soft understanding smile with each other…(Y/n) knew…(Y/n) knew that Lando wasn't saying much, but he didn’t need to. That’s always been something about him — he listens like it matters.

“I spent so long just trying to get through it all. Like, finish the degree, pay rent, keep everything together. And now that I actually have time to breathe… I don’t really know what to do with it.” Lando shifted his weight, then stepped closer, not too close, just enough…

“Maybe you don’t have to figure it out right away.” A smile ghosted (Y/n)’s face as she smiled up at him…“I’m not great at sitting still.” She muttered out hoping he wouldn't hear her but he did…He always heard her… “You don’t have to sit still. Just… don’t rush past this part, either. You’ve earned some space to not know.” As he said that Lando looked at her with the amount of reassurance that confirmed her that even if it was 4am in the morning and she needed help…Lando would just be a single call away…another soft and comforting silence fell until (Y/n) decided to break it… “Thanks for showing up today. I didn’t even ask.” She looked up at him…a soft gloss on her eyes…“You never have to.” Lando replied, staring into her eyes with the most soft smile he had ever given anyone…

The sound of the door clicking shut echoes faintly through the empty shop. Outside, the sky’s already dimming, soft orange hues brushing the windows. (Y/n) pulls her hoodie over her head and finishes tying up her hair.

“I like being here. With you.” Lando said looking at the sunset…(Y/n) smiled softly as she slinged her bag on her shoulders…“I like you being here too..” They hold the silence for a moment — not awkward, not unsure. Just comforting and still…

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. Real food. No more skipping dinner.” (Y/n) groaned as she finally chuckled before saying “Alright, alright. But only if I get to pick.” “I’ve already accepted defeat.” Lando says as he puts his arms up in a surrendering motion and raina chuckles softly They grabbed their things and walked toward Lando’s car, shoulders brushing as they moved side by side. Outside, the street lights are just flickering on. And for once, everything doesn’t feel late — it just feels right.

The hum of the engine fills the quiet air as the car idles in line. (Y/n)'s window is rolled halfway down, her elbow resting casually on the door. The car smells faintly like her vanilla body spray and Lando’s cologne — a strange but comfortable mix… “You really went for nuggets and fries?” Lando smiles as she looks at her by the side of his eye and focuses back on the road…(Y/n) smiled and turned to him “Do you wanna fight me right now or after I eat?”

Lando chuckles as he parks in the parking lot in front of (Y/n)’s apartment…“Just saying… you’ve got commitment.” (Y/n) smiles as she softly replies back “Exactly. Learn from me.” They both laugh. The kind that escapes easily, no effort, just comfort. (Y/n) quickly opens the bag of food. She passes Lando his drink and then proceeds to pop open the paper bag, and steals a fry before handing him the rest.

“Hey—” Lando chuckles as he speaks up but he is cut off by her voice “Tax.” (Y/n) smiled softly before a silence fell in the car as the duo began to eat in silence until Lando breaked it.. He holds the cup to his mouth as he sucks on the straw and gulps down the drink before looking at her “Do you ever feel like the thing you love the most stops feeling like… yours?” (Y/n) takes her drink and stops mid-sip.. “Where’s that coming from?” It’s almost like Lando can't meet her eyes...He shrugs a bit as he looks out of the window… “Lately racing’s felt… heavy. Not hard, not exhausting — just… like I’m chasing something that’s not even mine anymore. I used to love it for the speed, the instinct, the feeling of just being there. Now it’s—” Lando sighs as he waves his hand almost like he’s trying to find the words…“it’s…it’s like every lap is a test. Like I’m trying to prove something to people who’ve already decided what I’m worth.”

(Y/n) looks at him as she sighs “Is that what you think? That they’ve already made up their minds?” Lando doesn't answer…he just didn't have the courage to for some reason…(Y/n)’s gaze stays fixed on his as she slowly leans back in the passenger seat… 

“You know what I see? I see a guy who lights up when he talks about how the tires felt during lap 16. Who gets mad not because he failed, but because he knows what he’s capable of. I’ve watched you love this sport like it’s a part of your skin.” Lando turns his head…his eyes meeting with hers as she continues…

“You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to feel the pressure. But none of that changes why you started. Or how much you matter — not to a team, not to some sponsor, but to the people who actually see you.” Her voice softens…“One bad weekend doesn’t rewrite everything you’ve done. It doesn’t take away who you are. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you’ve got anything left to prove.”

That’s when Lando sighs and for a second his walls slip…(Y/n) sees the boy beneath the driver…in front of her…After all…Lando was also a human who needed to be reassured of his capabilities sometimes…

“Do you really think that?” “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

A few seconds pass. Then he reaches over, takes one of her nuggets, and eats it wordlessly. (Y/n) gasps as she looks at him faking an offended expression “Excuse me—” Lando grinned as he let the word fall from his lips in the most carefree and free way “Tax…”

(Y/n) laughed as she shoves him lightly. Lando leans his head back on the seat and lets out a breath that sounds a little more like relief this time rather than a weight inside him begging to be relieved

“Thanks. For being the one place I don’t have to be the guy who wears McLaren's racing suits...” Lando says looking at her while (Y/n) smiles softly “You’re welcome. For always.”

3 days later it's raining as Lando barges into the shop…almost practically wet…He shoots a grin at (Y/n) who was cleaning the counter when she looked at the bouquet she was making and sighed “Hey, we’re open, but if you’re dripping, I’m legally allowed to throw a towel at you.” 

Rain taps gently on the windows, the sound muffled but steady. The shop smells like soil, eucalyptus, and the faint vanilla candle (Y/n) lit earlier. The doorbell jingles softly. Lando’s voice rings across the room…“Harsh welcome.” (Y/n) smiled as she peered over the counter…Her face lightened up when she saw him…

Lando was drenched…his curls stuck to his forehead indicating he had gotten slightly wet as he had closed the umbrella before walking in…which also answered why his hoodie was half wet… “Oh look what the rain dragged in…you know you’re gonna be down with fever after this right Lan?” Everyone called him that but from her mouth…god it felt like it was call from heaven to him…

“You got a mop or do I just stand here and ruin your floor?” (Y/n) smiled as she shook her head as Lando shrugged…she disappeared into the backroom and threw a small hand towel at him…“Thanks.” He ruffles his hair a bit and sets the soaked hoodie on a hook near the door. He was wearing a plain black shirt underneath which had been saved from being dampened by the thick hoodie… “You want something warm? I’ve got hot chocolate in the back. Not from a machine, thank you very much.” (Y/n) smiled as she looked at him “I made it in the morning…” Lando smiled as he stood in front of the counter as she let him in…“Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.” He smiled at her as he looked her up and down…Had she always looked like she was the moon…she almost looked like she had a soft glow around her…he shook his head as she let him in and they both went to the backroom… A small lamp cast a gentle yellow glow. The rain sounds louder back here, like a low lullaby. (Y/n) set down two mugs of hot chocolate on the old wooden table as she pulled a chair and sat across Lando… “One has a little cinnamon in it. Try not to die guessing which.” She smiles as she pushes one of the cups towards him…“Living dangerously today, huh?” Lando smirked at her as she smiled tilting her head “That’s just me being me…” A soft laughter erupted in the room which died down soon after as Lando cleared his throat…He turned the cup slowly in his hand before finally letting the statement fall from his lips… “So… I’ve gotta tell you something.” (Y/n) sat up, setting her cup down and looking at him…“Okay. Should I be worried?” (Y/n)’s voice was almost a whisper…she was thinking about the worst possibilities… Had she said something stupid which hurt him?

Did she mess up something?

What had she done…?

Oh lord…

“No. Just—don’t hate me.” Lando looked at her…

“Lando.” Panic spread across her face as Lando noticed and shook his head as he finally sighed and looked at the counter that could be seen from the door…“Season’s starting. First race is this weekend. Then it’s back-to-back for months. I’m flying out tomorrow morning.” Some relief sets back into (Y/n)…she knew this would come her way…she just didn't know this quickly…

“How long?” (Y/n) let the question fall off her lips like she had rehearsed it mentally a hundred times just to soothe the hollowness she would feel while he would be gone…“Five months. Give or take.” Lando said as he looked into her eyes..that was the time they made a quiet and mutual agreement… “And then?” (Y/n) said looking at him as she tried to shift in her seat…somehow it was starting to hurt her entire body in just two seconds…“Then I’ll be back….Silverstone.”...“Right.” (Y/n) nodded as she took another sip before setting it on the table… “I didn’t want to just vanish on you…you matter to me…and I felt like you should know…” Lando looked at her hoping she wouldn’t look at him differently…“I’m glad you did.” (Y/n) smiled…she had sorted out the mental turmoil and she took another sip and looked at him before speaking.. “Five months is a long time. But not forever.” (Y/n) looked at Lando looking for any sense of reassurance in his eyes…“Exactly. And I’ll call. Text. Send you blurry photos of my hotel breakfasts.” (Y/n) chuckled as she looked at him…That innocent ‘I trust you’ smile Lando loved more than anything…“Please do. I want full reviews. I’m holding you to it.”....“Deal.” Lando smiles as (Y/n) takes their empty mugs and washes them in the sink… A comfortable silence falls again, a deeper kind of quiet wrapping around them. The kind that holds what words can’t.

“Promise me something?” (Y/n) says as she turns around to face him…“Don’t spend the whole season trying to prove yourself. Just… love it. Like you used to.”

Lando looks at her…his face softening as his vulnerable side flushes out…“You’re the only one who says that, you know?”...(Y/n) sighs and looks into his eyes ....“Then I’ll keep saying it. Every time.” She walks closer and places her hand over his…He turns his palm up and gently holds her fingers. “God, I’m gonna miss this.” Lando looked down… “I’ll miss annoying you on your shifts…” (Y/n) smiled as Lando looked up at her while he said the last part… “I’ll be right here when you come back. Hot chocolate and all.” (Y/n) smiled as she looked at him and hugged him to which he answered immediately, his arms finding her waist and wrapping around it as she played with his hair. The rain outside made it so much more comfortable…They both knew…At the end of the day they would have each other…to turn to..

(Y/n) is sat cross-legged on her bed, hair up in a messy bun, hoodie too big for her. Her laptop screen glowed. Behind her, a shelf of books, a candle flickering low, and a soft throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and she answered the video call. Lando’s face appears — hoodie on, lying on his hotel bed in Melbourne… “There she is.” Lando’s voice soothed her ears as a smile spread across her cheeks… (Y/n) raised her brow as she spoke…voice hoarse due to not talking for hours at a stretch “Shouldn’t you be asleep? You’ve got FP1 in, like, six hours.”

(Y/n) fixed the blanket and snuggled and rested her head on the cushion that supported her…“Can’t. Too much adrenaline, or nerves. Or maybe I just missed hearing your voice.” Lando said as he looked at her and smiled softly…genuinely… “Smooth.” (Y/n) chuckled while her eyes were closed…“I’m trying, alright? Give a man points.” Lando said, pretending to be offended…“You get one. Maybe.” (Y/n) said as she opened her eyes and smiled..readjusting herself…that's when he saw the hoodie he had left behind at the shop on her tiny frame…A small smile spread across lando’s face but he decided not to confront it…He also saw something else…a book with a girl standing and a guy in a racing suit standing on the cover page of the book…the spine of the book had tiny checkered flags on it… “Wait. Wait, go back.” He said to (Y/n) who grew confused and looked at him a bit weirdly… “Go back where?” she asked confusion lacing her voice…Lando leaned a bit into the camera before he let his lips speak the words that his brain framed…

“On your bed. What is that? That red and white book.” (Y/n) glances over her shoulder, then immediately turns back, her face blank. “Nope. Not important.” She says as she tries to change the topic…“Oh, it's very important now.” (Y/n) sighed, throwing her head back dramatically as she accepted defeat..“Fine. It’s called ‘To The Finish Line’.” (Y/n) grumbled out as she pulled the strings of the hood to hide her face…

“Sounds suspiciously F1-related.” Lando said out loud…“Maybe.” “Romance?” (Y/n) averted her gaze as she sighed and put the candle off “Would it kill you to believe I’m well-rounded?” “Not at all. But it is incredibly hard to imagine you reading a book where the lead guy probably says something like ‘my heart races faster than my car’.” (Y/n) bursts out laughing as Lando completes the sentence…her smiling…it pult a smile on his face by default as if it was just what his duty was…to make her smile…

“Okay that was exactly the vibe, but listen—it’s not that cheesy. It’s about this driver who kind of loses himself in the pressure and this girl who helps him remember why he started in the first place.”  Lando’s mind spirals as he hears her say that…

Wait, isn't that like us? He wanted to say…but just an “Oh” came out of his mouth…(Y/n)’s voice softened as she looked at the book holding it in her hands “Yeah. So… maybe I got attached. Sue me.”...

Lando quietly eyed her as he muttered…“You always pick the things that matter to you. Even if they look small.” There was a silent pause as he laid on his back…phone angled to face the ceiling…“You think you can talk me to sleep?” His heavy voice mumbles out… “Only if you promise not to drool mid-call.” (Y/n) smiles softly…and starts humming softly as she starts knitting…something about it was so calming…Lando couldn't place his finger on it…Was it her humming or the fact that she would stay on call with him till he fell asleep…it was just safe and he felt…accepted…

Sleep nearly dawns on him…as she sleepy groans out some words to her… “It's not fair you know? You are all over there literally across the world…and I'd still win the damn race just to see you smile…” (Y/n) smiled softly looking at him… “Lan sleep…you need it…” Lando rubbed his face as he finally spoke up… “Text me after FP1…okay?” “Always…” and the line went dead as Lando's black screen stared at him…something struck him…before sleep could dawn on him…he opened google and typed in the book’s name carefully…

To The Finish Line – Paperback

He presses 'Order'. Just to know, he tells himself. Just to see what she sees.

The sky outside was still dark, just starting to blue. (Y/n) sat curled up on the couch with her blanket wrapping her body as the post-FP2 recap played on the TV. Her phone buzzed in her lap. She blinks at the screen.

It’s Lando. Video call. 

She answers, voice raspy with exhaustion and a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Well look who finally remembered his biggest fan.” She covered her face as she yawned before smiling at him..“You’re awake?” Lando smiled at her as he unlocked the door of his hotel room…He put the card in the holder as he set his phone on the stand… “I never slept, genius. Stayed up to watch both sessions. You crushed it.” (Y/n) smiled…It was genuine…her voice had pride in it and Lando could perfectly sense it…A smile ghosted Lando's lips as she smiled at him while her eyes were already dropping from the lack of sleep in her system… “Did I now?” Lando said as he fiddled with the hem of his hoodie…there was a soft insecure feeling in his voice…after all he had faltered his position in FP2…finishing in p2 after he had just gotten p1 in FP1…he felt less somehow…and he couldn't place a finger on exactly where he felt the pain…It felt like it was divided in the heart and brain… (Y/n) sensed the uncomfortable silence as Lando zoned out…she cleared her throat before letting the words fall off her lips “You did. P1 and P2? Not too bad for someone who couldn’t sleep last night.” Lando let a sarcastic laugh fall off his lips… “but I still faltered…didn’t I?” (Y/n)’s eyes softened even more if that was possible…she smiled softly at him… “Lando it's free practice…you did really good…if you don't want to hear it from yourself…hear it from me at least…you did really good..” Lando’s mind grew quieter as she said that…a sense of comfort dawning on him filling him with reassurance…“Seriously though” a soft sigh left his lips “… thank you. For staying up. For watching. It means more than I can say.” (Y/n) smiled as she nodded…“I don’t miss the things that matter.” His eyes suddenly lock on her as she closes her eyes and tries not to fall asleep…he just sits there…He watches her — hair messy, eyes tired, hoodie hanging off her shoulder. A version of her he’s never seen in person, but it makes his chest feel oddly warm. A chuckle leaves his throat…“You’re gonna pass out, huh?” “Probably in the next 5 minutes. But you had to know I was proud of you before that happened.” (Y/n) smiled as she completed the sentence… “and…Lan just know that I always will be…proud…of you…”

“Go hydrate. Stretch. Eat carbs. Whatever it is you drivers do after a good day.” (Y/n) chuckled out as she sank into her pillows…Lando eyed her face and smiled as he rested his head on his hand…“I’ll do all of that. After I look at you for another ten seconds.” “Flirt.” (Y/n) said, chuckling as she looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks… “Sleepy flirt. Big difference.” Lando smiled as he said that and exhaled deeply “Go to sleep Headphone girl…you need it..” (Y/n) rolled her eyes affectionately… “I don't use my headphones that much…” Lando chuckled as she shook his head “I almost ran over you that day…” “Point.” “yea..” (Y/n) smiled softly as she sighed… “Fine…goodnight lan I’m gonna go get some sleep now…” Lando smiled as the line went dead and a black screen stared back at him…he sighed softly as he looked to his side…the paperback book lying on his desk… It's time to see what she sees in this…

Lando sat by the window, legs pulled up to the chair. The book lay open on his lap. A highlighter uncapped next to it. He’s re..read a passage for the third time, brows slightly furrowed. “He didn’t know when it started — the fear that he wasn’t enough anymore. But she never treated him like he had to prove anything. And that’s when he started breathing again.”Lando closed the book slowly, fingers resting on the page. He looked toward his phone on the table, her name still on top from last night’s call. He’s torn…torn between his brain and heart…his brain kept muttering at him to forget it and just go to sleep while his heart practically begs the brian for permission to let him move his hands and grab the phone and text her…

His brain gives up…hands rush to the phone before he types in a text…

LAN: Thankyou for accepting me just how I am…Being around you..it..it makes me feel like I…like I can just breathe…without having to worry about anything.

No no no no no what am I thinking… His finger hovers over the backspace key before he taps it vigorously and again a blank text bar lay staring up at him from his phone…

LAN: you’re kind of unfairly good at making my head quieter.

He deletes that too… Eventually, he sets the phone down without sending anything. Just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before muttering… “Jesus. I’m so far gone.”

The garage was waking up — crew members moving with precision, equipment being calibrated, the low hum of focus in the air. But Lando's world was quieter. Slower. 

He stood by the back wall, race suit hanging from his waist, gloves in hand. A bottle of water forgotten by his side. His eyes were on the floor — not the car…His brain was screaming at him right now…He felt numb…just numb… “Yesterday was good. P1 and P2. I should be happy.”

He says to himself as he rolls his shoulder, stretching out tension that’s been sitting there since sunrise. “So why does it feel like if I’m not better today, it all counts for nothing?”One of the engineers waves a note at him — some tweak on balance, maybe tire pressures. He nods but barely hears it..He knows what the data says. He knows what the lap times were. But logic rarely speaks louder than the voice inside him that was eating him alive…

“What if it slips? What if that wasn’t real? What if yesterday was the peak and now it’s the drop?”

He picked up his helmet and ran a thumb over the top. The design felt familiar. Grounding. He closed his eyes for a second longer than he needed to.

The garage was still busy. Still loud. But the noise doesn’t touch him.

“It’s just free practice. But why does it feel like a test I already failed?”

He hears a buzz from his phone kept beside him…he lets his hand find their way to the phone and turns on the screen as a text notification stares at him..

(N/n): Watching. Go drive like you mean it.

His mouth lifts slightly. Just barely. But it’s enough to remind him he’s not doing this alone.

Helmet on. Visor down. He walks toward the car, heartbeat in his throat — not from fear, but from the weight of expectation he hasn’t figured out how to let go.

The alarm rang as 2:30 AM displayed on (Y/n)’s phone as she pushed the blanket off of herself…she groggily made her way to the living room as she turned the tv on and sat down…(Y/n) puts it on multiviewer as she looks at the camera that is pointed at lando as she looks at him…a soft smile forming but soon disappearing after she ready his body language… She looked at him standing in the garage, head down, hand braced on the edge of the car like he’s holding something invisible back… “He’s quiet. Too quiet. Not in that usual pre-session way either.”

She thought mentally…She leaned closer to the screen like proximity could help her read his thoughts better. The commentator's voice drones on about tire choices and balance tweaks, but she wasn’t listening. She watched the way Lando hesitated just before getting in the car. The way his jaw locked for a second too long…

“He’s spiraling a little, isn’t he?” she mutters to herself as she picks at the hem of her shirt…The camera switches angles — now he’s got the helmet on, but that didn’t fool her. His posture was too still. Not focused — frozen. And she knew exactly what that meant

“God, I wish I could just be there. Shake him a little. Tell him to breathe. Tell him yesterday didn’t vanish just because today feels heavier.”

Her hand finds her phone before her brain finishes the thought. She types faster than she realizes.

(N/n): Watching. Go drive like you mean it.

She sent it before she could second-guess. Then set the phone down, still staring at the screen as the session begins.

And when his car finally rolled out of the garage — smooth, clean, no hesitation — she exhaled, the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Her lips curve into a tiny smile. A hopeful one…one she wished he could see…just to feel reassured if that was possible… “There he is.” She mutters as seriousness dawns on her while she watches the grid driving…praying his mind didn’t play tricks on him…

Lando sat on a bench, still in his race suit, as he tried to avoid his phone which was set down beside him. His helmet was still on him, visor open, reflecting the quiet frustration in his eyes. His phone buzzed. He doesn't even look at the name before swiping to answer the call…

“Didn’t even get a ‘hello’? What if I was someone else?” (Y/n)’s voice rang across the phone as she held it under her ear while she snuggled up to the couch

“Then I guess someone else would’ve had to tell me P10 isn’t the end of the world.” Lando mumbled almost like he was saying that to himself mentally…A deep sigh was heard on the other side of the call…“So that’s what this call is.” “That obvious?” “Crystal clear. Lando, it’s free practice. you were trying things. You know this.” “Yeah, but—” “No. No ‘but.’ Listen to me. You are going to go out there, put that helmet on, and crush quali. Because you always come alive when it counts.”

A silence fell on the call as Lando’s breath normalized again…(Y/n)’s voice continued as her tone turned softer…“And even if something goes wrong… you’re still you. You’re not measured by a single lap.”

Lando leaned back, letting his back hit the wall as his head tipped towards the ceiling…“Why do you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured as she smiled softly before replying…“Because I pay attention.”

“Will you watch it live?” Lando said as he looked back down and chewed his lip…“Already called off of work… Kilye didn’t bat an eye when I said it was about you… You’re stuck with me.” A smile finally laced Lando’s lips…“Good. I drive better when I know you’re there.” “Then go give me something worth yelling about.”

 “Copy that.”

He ended the call, and in the sudden quiet of the driver room, he exhaled. The weight on his shoulders felt lighter now…

The TV glowed in the dark room, casting soft light across the cluttered coffee table — empty mugs, half-eaten snacks... She was curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, phone clutched tightly… “Through this time the home favorite looking to bring the crowd to their feet there's never been an Australian driver on pole position for the Australian Grand Prix can he change all of that” The commentator yells out as the screen shows Oscar's lap…(Y/n)’s hand subconsciously grips the phone in her hand harder… “he can! With a monster final sector…” the speakers of her TV let the voice echo as (Y/n) chews her lip… “Over to you Lando Norris…Over to you Max Verstappen and George Russell…”

He still has time…(Y/n) thinks as she leans closer to the screen… “Can Norris take it away?!?” (Y/n)’s hands clasp around her phone even harder…that was going to leave a mark… Her breath almost stops as she finally hears the words she most desperately wanted to hear… “He Does..!” A wide grin spreads across (Y/n)’s face..

“YES! THAT’S MY BOY! That’s what I told you, didn’t I?!” She jumps off the couch, nearly tripping over her blanket. 

“Oh my god, he did it. He actually—” His name tops the board as she smiled softly...

A few minutes later the recap starts to show when her phone buzzes — FaceTime. She dives for it…

Lando’s still in his suit, flushed from adrenaline, hair damp under the cap, but grinning wider than he has in weeks.

“pole?! Are you kidding me right now?!” (Y/n) smiled as she let out the breath she had been holding for so long…“I told you I drive better when you’re watching.” Lando laughs almost breathlessly until he sits down…

“I need, like, five minutes to calm down. I think I scared my neighbors.” (Y/n) laughed as she let the words out…“I’m serious, (Y/n). I heard your voice the whole damn lap.” Lando says a soft smile on both their faces as (Y/n) reassures him “you earned it…I’m so proud of you..” “I think that’s the only thing I needed to hear.” Lando smiles as silence takes over…not an uncomfortable one…a silence where no one spoke but their worlds were in a perfect sync…

“Go celebrate. I’ll be here… text me when you're free okay?” (Y/n) let it out before she smiled and let the line die…

The days bleed into each other as (Y/n) finds herself hyping Lando up every single race weekend…They don't even realize when Australia bleeds into China and when China bleeds into japan….

Shanghai was nearly perfect…Lando was sharp, focused, and clean. He brings it home P2. On the podium, as the champagne mists the air…as soon as he got down he checked his phone. One message sits at the top:

(N/n): I screamed. Again. My neighbors think I’m unwell. P2, baby! Let’s GO.

He smiles. The kind that slips out even when he’s trying to stay cool for the cameras…

Suzuka was a bit wet…Overnight rain was making it harder but…Lando finished Q3 with a flying lap but still ended behind max — P2 in the race again... As he sips water in the driver’s room, helmet still half-off, his phone rings. (Y/n)’s voice is faintly crackly, half-teasing.

“You’re getting faster by the week. It’s honestly annoying.” (Y/n) chuckled, faking her annoyance as Lando smiled “You know you love it”

“I do.” (Y/n)’s voice rings before they cut the call so Lando could get to the podium…

Japan soon bled into Bahrain as Lando picked up his phone opening her texts…

Lan: Feeling a bit off.

(N/n): It’s okay to feel off. Just don’t let it decide the race.

Lan: Can I call you?

(Y/n)’s phone rings as she takes it and puts it to her ears…“Lan you Know that you don't have to be perfect all the time right?” She lets the words fall out of her mouth softly as she says it in the most genuine way possible…“Just don’t want to disappoint.” “Impossible. You could finish 18th and I’d still think you’re the best driver out there.” “…You don’t make it easy to stay nervous.”

(Y/n) smiled as the line went dead indicating that he had to get ready for the race…

 It was another solid finish. P3. Lando tapped his heart just before the podium — a small, private motion. No one asks, but it meant something. Later that night, Lando sat in front of his screen..(Y/n) on the other side as she planned out the flower arrangement for Kylie's birthday bouquet…

“That one was for you.” Lando let his mouth speak the words as she looked at him with a smile growing on her lips…“Lan…” “I’m not where I want to be yet. But I’m getting there. Thanks for keeping me grounded.” “Anytime. Keep chasing.”

And just like that, The Saudi Arabia race weekend was just around the corner…

(Y/n)’s phone rang across her table as she looked at the caller Id…Lando…a smile laced her lips as she slowly took her phone in her hands…accepting the call… “Hey…” she let the greeting fall off her lips…it had become a routine now… “Hey…” Lando returned but something was lacking…it was different…worry painted raina’s face as she spoke.. “You okay?” “Nervous. The car doesn’t feel right.” (Y/n) let out a soft sigh as she smiled… “Just drive it like it’s stolen and I’m waiting at the finish line with food.” Lando chuckled as he looked at his car from afar.. “That was your motivational speech?” “Want the long version?” “always…”

Jeddah. The walls are close. Q3’s almost done when Lando pushes too much. There was an oversteer, and the car slams the barrier. Red flag. Silence in the commentary box. “Are you okay?” asks his race engineer on the team radio… “Yea im good…fucking idiot”

Later that night Lando resorted to calling (Y/n) without a second thought…he needed her…god it wasn't a joke he seriously needed her…

The door clicks open. He tossed the lanyard on the table, kicked off his shoes. He barely sat down before he grabbed his phone and called her…

As soon as the line connected…there wasn’t any ‘hello’ (Y/n) went straight to the point… “Hey. Stop.” “Stop what?” Lando groaned as he sank to the bed…“Calling yourself an idiot like it’s your full-time job.” Lando sighed as he picked on the sheet of the bed…He exhaled. Silent for a moment. He was not crying, but he was close to breaking in the way tired people do…

“I let the team down. I let you down…” (Y/n) looked at him…as she sighed  “You made a mistake. You're allowed. You don’t have to carry the whole damn team by yourself. Lan you are human…and…and you could never let me down…we both know that…I’m so proud you pulled upto Q3…” He stared at the screen. Then nodded. Quietly… “Thanks…”

The next day He clawed back what he could. Smart, gritty drive. P4 in the end. Not a podium, but a message. After the race…

(N/n): You didn’t let anyone down.

Lan: Still kinda wish you were here.

(N/n): Me too.

Lan: Still I’mSorry.

(N/n): For what? You fought. That’s all that matters.

Lan: I just wanted to give you something to be proud of.

(N/n): You already do. You always do Lan…

Next on the race calendar was Miami… The sun hid behind the clouds. Lando's drive is smart, surgical — the fights for overtakes were entertaining but also a bit overwhelming…The camera catches him smiling into his helmet as he parks up.

(Y/n), back home, ice cream in hand, smiles at the TV feeling mental content…she had been working on controlling the emotions because at this point…her neighbours would get her turned in for yelling too much every weekend…She let her hands find her phone after the podium as she called him… “I’m best friends with a podium merchant.” “You’re best friends with a future world champ.” “I like your version better.”

The check-ins became slow, but not in a bad way. It was a rhythm now. Predictable in the way the best things were. Mid-week memes. Late night “what if” texts. Photos of his helmet. Snapshots of her lunch. Calls that faded into yawns and goodnights. A quiet, steady beat pulsing under everything — unspoken and obvious.

The city hums with warmth. (Y/n) steps out of her familiar corner bookstore, tote bag slung over her shoulder, thumb already flipping through a page. She looks up—and stops.

Lando’s leaning against the lamppost outside. Hoodie on, cap backwards, a small bakery bag in hand. The same crooked smile. The one that always made her feel like she was in on a secret.

She doesn’t think. Just walks straight into him. Her arms wrap around him so tightly, the tote bag slips off her shoulder. His hands find their way around her waist as they wrap around her tiny frame…“I figured this was the best place to find you.” (Y/n) pulled back a bit shocked…“Lan… What—what are you doing here? Race weekend is like 2 weeks apart…” She looked up at him, still a bit confused…“Told the team I needed some London air. They asked why. I said, ‘Got a bookstore girl I need to see.’” 

A chuckle escaped (Y/n)’s lips as she looked up at him  “You’re such an idiot.”  “Missed you too….headphone girl…”

“Oh my god…you have dark circles..” Lando noticed… “Some idiot keeps making me stay up to watch him chase podiums at 3AM.” Lando laughs softly at that before speaking… “…Hope he’s worth it.” She looks up at him. He looks down at her. The summer hums louder around them. “Yeah. He really is…” It was a sleepy Thursday. Sunlight poured in through the old windows, dust dancing in the beams. The store smelled like coffee, old pages, and wildflowers. (Y/n) is tucked behind the counter, humming softly while sorting out receipts...and watering the bouquets 

The bell above the door rings. She looked up, already smiling when she saw it’s him…she faked a tone of annoyance as she smiled…“Do you live here now?” A grin spread across Lando’s face “Would that be a problem?” “Only if you don’t spend 15 minutes after closing the shop to have coffee with me..” “You don’t have to ask...and I brought the cookies...”

She rolled her eyes…a smile on her face… but her hand was already reaching for the bag. They settle behind the counter, quietly sharing cookies like it’s their own little corner of the universe.

A few minutes later, Kylie walks in from the back, sees them both tucked in behind the desk, and stops. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Fast and Curious.” The voice made Lando sit up straight a bit as he fixed his hair…nervousness taking over him…“Hi. Uh—Lando.” He reintroduced himself to kylie… 

“Oh, I know. You’re the guy who’s always on (Y/n)’s phone.” She says as she hands him a cup of coffee…“On the house. And take a bouquet before you go. (Y/n) says the red gardenias remind her of you...” (Y/n)’s face turns a bright shade of red as she tried to stop Kylie from exposing what she had told her about a week ago..“Kylie—”“Shush. Let me be romantic on your behalf.” Kylie waved her hand in protest as she walked back inside to sort out the inventory duties for the next day…

She winks and disappears again, leaving them both flustered.

The store was quieter now. Lando was still there. Sitting on a stool behind the counter, flipping through a random poetry book. (Y/n) was beside him, arms crossed on the counter, eyes tired but honest. “You okay?” (Y/n) silently stares at the beams of sunlight before nodding… “Yeah. Just… sometimes being around you is so easy, it scares me.” He genuinely looks at her as she continues…

“Do you ever feel like you’re constantly earning your place in people’s lives? Like—if you’re not useful, funny, pretty, low-maintenance… they’ll leave?” (Y/n) said as she let her fingers wrap a spare piece of ribbon on them…

 “…Yeah. I get that.” Lando looked at her as he shut the book and pushed it aside, turning to face her… 

“My last relationship—he cheated on me. With my best friend. Told me I was too much. And not enough. Somehow both.” Lando doesn’t speak…he just couldn’t…How could someone not see her…the way he saw her…precious…lovable…his everything… Lando gently placed his hand near hers on the counter. Not touching, just near. Enough to say: ‘I’m here’ 

“Since then….I’ve just been trying to prove that I deserve to stay. In anyone’s life. Even yours.” A blanket of silence fell over then until Lando decided to remove it…“You don’t have to earn your place with me, (N/n). You already have it…”

The hotel room is still. A low amber glow spills from a lamp in the corner. Lando sits on the edge of the bed, hoodie sleeves bunched around his wrists, hair damp from a quick shower. His phone buzzes beside him — muted this time — but he doesn’t check it.

Instead, he reaches for something tucked deep in the lining of his suitcase. A book. The spine creased, the corners softened from travel. He bought it in Australia. Ordered it in the most impulsive way possible…

He continues reading as he reaches the middle of the book…the part.A race. The stakes are high. But it’s not the win that matters.

“He didn’t fight for the win because he needed glory. He fought because someone, somewhere, believed he could — and that made him want to be more than just fast. It made him want to be good.”

And suddenly it’s her — standing behind the counter, sleeves pulled over her palms, pretending to be annoyed when he rearranged the display alphabetically. Her voice when she told him about the ones who left. The look in her eyes when she said she always had to earn her space in someone’s world.

And yet she stood there anyway.

With him.

Not just for the wins. Not for the cameras. But in the quiet spaces in between.

He leans back against the pillows, book resting open across his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the room itself might give him an answer.

But he already knows it.

“She never asked for anything. Not once. And somehow… she still deserves everything.” There’s no plan yet. No grand gesture. But somewhere in the center of his chest, something starts to settle.

He doesn’t want to win for headlines. Or podiums. Or legacy.

He wants to win for the girl who stayed….

The next day…The shop was quiet, late golden sun bled through the windows. Raina was behind the counter, flipping through a new book she had bought when her phone buzzed…she let her hand find its way to her phone not looking away from the book…she finally looked at her phone and read the text notification

Lan: So… home race. Silverstone. I’ve got an extra pass. For my favourite book snob.

She smiled, biting back a laugh. She unlocked her phone and opened the text…as she quickly typed in a response…

(N/n): Lando, are you seriously trying to lure me with race fuel and overpriced chips?

Lan: Absolutely. I’m also offering front-row seats to me, losing my mind in quali.

(N/n): Tempting.

Lando: (N/n) Come. Please?

Her fingers hover over her keyboard as she finally gives in and accepts it with a smile….

Raina: Okay. I’ll be there….

The days pass by as (Y/n)  counts her days to the grand prix…Lando would occasionally visit her in the shop…and they both had noticed how Kylie had been missing in action for the last 2 days…(Y/n) had enough as finally She speaks up…

“Hey lan? Could you drive me to Kylie’s? I’m kind of getting worried at this point…” Without a hesitation Lando drops her off at Kylie's…But while he was driving to his hotel…his heart drops as he sees the text notification on his phone…

(N/n):  Kylie’s sick. Can’t come. I’m so sorry, Lan. Kill it for me anyway.

Lando sits on his hotel bed as he stared into the wall before laying down and falling asleep…he had a fp1 to worry about anyways…

Two days passed as (Y/n) got too busy taking care of Kylie…Lando was convinced at this point that she would not be attending…

“You should be with him…not me…” Kylie said as she let out a cough and looked up at (Y/n)…(Y/n) sat beside Kylie before sighing…“You need to be taken care of... Jesus, Ky, you’re burning up.”

Kylie gives her a look, groggy but pointed. “(Y/n)… seriously. Go. I’ll be fine.” Kylie tried to convince her…“Not a chance.” “(Y/n).”

She said it like she was summoning her. Like she was asking her to listen, for real.

“You’ve always done this thing, you know? Dropping everything for people. Even the ones who didn’t deserve it.”(Y/n) looked away. Outside the window as she refused to accept it…“But this? This is Lando. And he does.” (Y/n) sighed as she listened quietly…before mumbling…“It’s just a race.” Kylie looks at her firmly…“No, it’s not. Not to him. And definitely not when it’s you he wanted there.”

“I already texted him… Told him I couldn’t come.” Kylie groaned as she mumbled... “You idiot.” She took (Y/n)’s hand in hers as (Y/n) spoke…“I didn’t want to let you down.” Kylie softly looked at her as she spoke… “You never let me down. But (Y/n) — don’t you get it? That boy looks at you like… like you’re the win he never knew he was allowed to chase.”...Silence dawns upon (Y/n) as she blinks slowly. Kylie whispers as (Y/n) looks into her eyes…“Go. Before you start convincing yourself he doesn’t care. Because I promise you — he really, really does.”

It was buzzing. Crowds. Cameras. Fans. Mechanics. Lando stood near the garage, helmet in hand, in full race suit. His usual energy was off. A little flat. He checks his phone again. Nothing.

Until—

“You look like you’re about to fight someone.”

He spins.  There she was…Lanyard around her neck, hoodie tucked into her jeans, windblown and out of breath. And smiling.

Lando’s breath catches. Then without even thinking, he pulls her in — arms around her, tight, grounded, like she’s the only thing real in this entire buzzing paddock.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” “Kylie changed my mind.” “God, I missed you.” “You saw me three days ago.” “Not like this.”

They stood there, forehead to shoulder, in the middle of the chaos, while the team let them be for just a moment.

She watched from the McLaren garage, hands clenched, heart in her throat. The energy was electric. Lando was in the lead. Lap after Lap, he’s flawless — focused, feral, faster than she’s ever seen him.

Lap 50 of 52. A Red Bull looms in his mirrors — relentless.

Then — the DRS zone.

The move comes clean and brutal. Lando defends. He tries. But the Red Bull slices through with three corners to go.

He finishes P2.

He got out of the car. Helmet off. Cameras flash. The crowd roared. His name was everywhere. But he barely lifted his eyes. He walked to her. Slowly. Like the world is a little heavier than it was before.

(Y/n) grinned up at him…“P2! Lan, that was—insane. Everyone’s freaking out!..He didn’t smile. Didn’t meet her eyes. (Y/n) sensed the change in his body language as her tone softened…“Hey. What’s wrong?”

He swallowed hard, as he replied in an almost frustrated tone…“I wanted to win that race.” (Y/n) flinched a bit due to his tone being unpredictable..“…Lando, you nearly did. That was—” He cut her off…his voice a bit louder and desperate… “No. I didn’t want to win it for the team. Or for the media. I wanted to win it for you.”

She stared at him as her heart caught in her chest. Lando’s voice broke softly as he tried to speak…

 “You showed up. After everything. After I thought you wouldn’t. And I thought… I thought if I won, maybe you’d see what you mean to me. Like it would say it without me needing to say it. I don’t know.”

She stepped forward. Quietly. her eyes softened as she held his hand. “Lando…” He looks away, jaw clenched, ashamed. She pulled him in — arms around him. Tight. Reassuring. Unshakable. She softly spoke into his ear…“You don’t have to prove anything to me. Not now. Not ever.”He exhaled — like something inside him finally gave up the fight.

“You’re already everything I’d ever cheer for.”

They stay there, pressed together in the middle of the storm. Around them, the paddock whirled. But inside this hug, there was quiet. Steady. Real.

Because he didn’t win the race.

But maybe… for once… he didn’t have to…

The sun dipped behind the trees as Lando and (Y/n) pulled into Kylie’s quiet neighborhood. The Post race buzz faded into calm. The car still hummed softly beneath them as Lando glanced at her — her legs folded up in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pushed over her hands, the P2 cap now backwards on her head.

“Wearing that like you earned it.” “I carried you emotionally through half the season. I deserve it.”

He laughed, but there was something softer in the way he looked at her. She didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. Kylie opened the door…blanket slung over one shoulder and tea in hand. 

“About time. You made him podium just to get out of bringing soup, didn’t you?” (Y/n) hugged her tight. Kylie groaned like it hurts — and it probably does — but she still pulled (Y/n)in harder. “Don’t get sappy, I’m just here to drop you your disgusting peppermint tea.” Kylie waved her off.“Actually, could you run to the corner shop? I forgot milk and you’re faster than the average dying woman.” Kylie said mischievously as she sat down on one of her chairs“Unbelievable.” (Y/n) mumbled knowing exactly what Kylie was planning… “Don’t scare him while I’m gone.” Kylie raises her eyebrows in mock innocence. (Y/n) disappears out the door.

Lando stands awkwardly nearby, unsure whether to sit or bolt. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.” Kylie chuckles as she turns to him, motioning him to sit…Lando takes a seat opposite to her and lets a chuckle out before stopping and clearing his throat... 

“So…What do you mean to her?”

Lando blinks, almost confused as he stares at Kylie for some sort of explanation to what she just said…“What?” He blurts out a confused expression painted over his face…

“(Y/n). You just ran a whole race like she was the finish line. You’re here. You’re always here. So I’m asking — what do you mean to her? And more importantly — what does she mean to you?”

He shifts, kylie had caught him off guard…awfully awkwardly…and exposingly..he sighed as he looked at her…“I don’t… I don’t think she knows.” Kylie shakes her head as she disagrees... “That’s not what I asked.”

He looks down at his hands. Then out the window. Then he just lets his heart accept it and speak over his brain….“She’s... she’s the first person who never saw me as just the guy in the car. She listens like I’m more than the stats or the wins. And when things go wrong, she doesn’t flinch. She just—stays.” 

Kylie smiles as she drinks her tea and looks at him approvingly… “I'm happy that you finally decided to accept it instead of beating around the bush like you have been doing since the first day I saw you with her…” Lando chuckled as he looked away while Kylie continued…“She’s always had to earn her place. With friends. With that trashfire of an ex. She’s always afraid of being too much. Or not enough.”

Lando swallows. Hard.

“She doesn’t know how much she means to you. And that girl—she’s smart, but she’s oblivious. So if she means something to you, and I mean really means something—say it. Because she’s not going to see it unless you put it right in front of her face.”

He’s quiet. But his jaw’s tight. And behind the silence is something certain…“She means everything.” He blurts out before he even realizes it himself…his eyes widen as he realizes what he had just said as he lets it sink in…

She means everything… She means everything… She means everything…

Kylie studies him for a long moment. Then smiles — small, knowing, satisfied…“Good.” Kylie smiles…

The sound of the knob of the door is heard... (Y/n)’s back. Lando doesn’t move.

But something in him has…

The car hums softly as Lando drives through the quiet streets of London. The world outside is dim and washed in rainlight, but inside the car, there's an unspoken energy — a new rhythm between them, something that's been building.

(Y/n) stared out the window as she sighed…“You sure you’re okay?” She turned her head facing Lando who had his eyes on the road…“Yeah, just... one of those days.” A grin plastered (Y/n)’s face as she chuckled…“Kylie grilled you, didn’t she?” A small chuckle left Lando’s throat as he looked at her from the corner of his eye while still keeping his focus on the road…“Yeah, well... Kylie's pretty good at making me spill my guts. I didn’t even see it coming.”

“She just... wants to make sure you're good for me. You know?” (Y/n) said as she sighed… “Yeah. I get it.”

The quiet settles between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s something... familiar. Different…It was as if even if no one spoke they would stay next to each other…just in the presence of each other…

Suddenly (Y/n) turned to face him…“You know, you don’t have to always prove yourself.”...Her words catch him off guard. He looks at her, surprised by the sudden honesty in her voice.

“Prove myself?” He asked…“Yeah. You’re always running after something... like you’re trying to show people you’re worthy. But you don’t need to do that. Not for me.”

Her words hit deeper than he expects. For a moment, he’s silent, processing what she’s saying. He’s always running. Always trying to be better, to do more. But with her? It feels different.

He quietly mutters to himself…“Maybe I want to prove something to myself. Not just the team, or anyone else.”

She’s quiet for a beat. Then, she glances at him, a little smile tugging at her lips. “I guess we’re both trying to figure that out, huh?”  A smile ghosts Lando’s lips…“Yeah. Seems like it.”

Lando parked the car outside her building, the engine purring to a stop. They sat there for a moment, neither rushing to get out. The air between them felt charged. They shared a silence, but it was of the comfortable kind.

(Y/n) finally took a deep breath as she took off her seatbelt…“Thanks for the ride.”...Lando nodded, his hands lingering on the wheel for a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t want this to end. Not yet. “Anytime…Let me walk you…” He looked at her…his eyes showed sincerity…but also of wanting to stay with her…he felt anchored whenever he was with her…she was his everything…

They both got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of her building. As they reached the door, (Y/n) stopped, turning to face him. There was something different in her eyes now — something unspoken, a spark neither of them knew how to put into words.

He stood there for a second, his thoughts swirling. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say it out loud — how much she meant to him. How everything had changed, how he was not sure he could keep pretending like it was all just a friendship. But he doesn’t. He can't. He caught his tongue at the last second.

(Y/n) pulled her bag over her shoulder as she smiled up at him softly… “Thanks for the ride…” She smiled softly and he saw her…she was looking up at him…like she was searching his face for something…maybe to get a hint of what he was thinking of…but it was there…in the way he stood…and the way he looked at her…He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he just smiled a little, his gaze softening… “You’ll be okay?” He asked…hoping she would ask him to spend more time with her…but they both knew that they should call it a day…(Y/n) smiled as she sighed softly…“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She turned to head into her apartment, but as she reached for the door handle, she paused and looked back one last time. Lando’s standing in front of her, his back to the door, watching her.

The door clicked open. (Y/n) stepped inside, but before she fully closed it, she leaned against it for a moment. Her heart’s pounding — she was not sure why. She didn't know if it’s the way Lando’s eyes followed her or if it’s the conversation, the weight of it, that’s left her hanging in the air.

On the other side of the door, Lando leaned back against it too, eyes closed. His heart pounded in his chest. He was still standing there, thinking about how everything had shifted. How much she mattered to him. But he didn’t know how to say it yet. How to make it real.

And so, for the first time, they both sat with the unsaid. (Y/n) finally sighs as she makes her way to her room and calls it a night…

The next day…It was delivery day.

Buckets clattered onto the pavement, packed with sunflowers, peonies, and lilies. The air smelled like spring and sleep. Lando was there, hoodie clinging to his frame after a morning run, sleeves shoved up, eyes squinting in the sun…after he begged Kylie to let him help…(Y/n) fumbled with the keys, still groggy, she teased him as he nearly tripped over a rogue bucket…“You’re useless with your center of gravity messed up.” “And yet—somehow still more helpful than your cardboard arms.” (Y/n) chuckled as she rolled her eyes before finally getting the lock and opening the door of the shop letting them in…Then — mid-lift, breath shallow, words low and too easy — he said it…“I’d carry your entire life if you asked.”

Silence. (Y/n) turned around and looked at him as she let her hands rest on her waist…The world doesn’t stop, but it slows. Lando blinked like he didn’t mean to say it aloud. “…what?” (Y/n) questioned him as she looked at him…Lando cleared his throat as he looked away trying his hardest to convince her not to push at what he just said… “Nothing. Forget it.”

And indeed she doesn’t answer. Doesn’t push. But something had cracked open between them — not broken, just… unguarded. New…They lift the rest in silence. Side by side. The kind of silence that buzzes with everything left unsaid. From the side door, Kylie appeared… steaming coffee in one hand, sunglasses perched in her messy hair… She watched the two of them, their shoulders brushed as they moved inside, the atmosphere still humming.

She took a slow sip as she smiled to herself…“You know what? I’m taking the morning off.” She said as (Y/n) blinked at her confused… “Wait—what?”...“Shop’s in good hands.”

Kylie disappears down the sidewalk, chuckling to herself… Inside the shop, the air smelled like fresh lilies and unsaid feelings…Neither of them dared to speak about it — not yet…But both of them felt it. Something changed…

That day…(Y/n) closed the shop early…They both walked to a nearby corner bookstore and started walking through the aisles of the different genres… (Y/n) found a vintage copy of a poetry book that she had been hunting for…a soft cover, worn spine, her eyes lit up like the first time he saw her talk about flowers…She walked to the counter, book and card in hand...But Lando swooped in infront of her…“Lan…I’ve got it. Don’t even think about—” She tries to say as Lando cuts her off by tapping his card on the machine…“Too late.” A groan erupted from (Y/n)’s throat as she mumbled…“Lando—come on. I can buy my own books.”...“Yeah. But I wanted to.” She stared at him, part shocked and part scared of becoming a burden... and he just shrugs, like it’s not a big deal…

Later, outside the shop, she reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a receipt — and a small, worn photo flutters out of his wallet…It’s of her.

Tied-up apron. Sleeves rolled. Head bowed slightly as she arranged a bouquet. Sunlight haloed her hair…(Y/n) picked it up, stunned…“You kept this?” her voice came out almost as a whisper…

A soft smile ghosted Lando’s face as he said…“It’s my lucky charm.”...Her voice catches..“Why that one?”...“Because you look like peace. And I need that.”

She didn’t respond. She just folded the photo back carefully and handed it to him like it’s something sacred…And that’s the moment she realized — It wasn’t just about the book. It has never been just about the book…

They both ended up walking to (Y/n)’s apartment…She unlocked the door and let them both in… “shit…I forgot all about the clothes…” she mumbled… “sit here…I’ll go fold them up first…” “No..I want to help…” Lando looks at her as he stands up… “Please…” He lets out as (Y/n) smiles, folding in and letting him follow her to her bedroom… It had started to rain…Big, soaking drops on the windows. The kind of storm that made the world feel smaller… “You ready to get absolutely smoked at folding?” Lando grinned at her…(Y/n) chuckled as she looked at him the same mischievous way… “Please. You don’t even match your own socks.” “Fashion is subjective.”

The competition was absurd, messy, and full of laughter. She barely won. By a second. Maybe less….He started folding one of her hoodies — and stopped…It was her favorite. Worn. Soft. It smelled like her eucalyptus shampoo, like her space. He held it a moment too long.

 “You gonna cry over a hoodie, Norris?” (Y/n) teased him as she patted his back softly…He didn't answer. Instead he Just folded it with care, walked over to the shelf without asking, and tucked it in the exact right spot. Then folded the grey tassel blanket and draped it over the back of the couch. Right where it always goes…She watched him quietly…Because he knew where it all went…Because he knew her.

Later, the movie played in the background, rain still coming down — neither of them wanted to leave. The atmosphere was pretty cold as she brought out two blankets…offering one to him…he immediately denied…“Wanna just share?”...He didn’t wait for her to answer, just draped half of it over her. They sat, warm and quiet. A stupid rom-com played, forgotten…They don’t touch. Not really. Their backs were turned. Their hands, almost brushed…

(Y/n) fell asleep first…Hours later, he woke up and found her curled closer in her sleep, head nearly on his shoulder. His arm under her. Like it belonged there. He didn't move. He didn't have to. Because it felt like something that should never be interrupted…

The days almost bleed into each other as only three days are left…The countdown began... The British Grand Prix was long over. Lando's next one loomed over them indicating that he had to leave…and they would go back to (Y/n) pep talking to him every time on call before his practice sessions or quali or race day…

They don’t say it, but they both felt the weight of time. The weight of distance returning. The thought of going back to calls and text bubbles, instead of coffee and shared blankets.

And then Kylie called…

Lando showed up with a bag of groceries and a half-empty box of tea (Y/n) sweared by…Kylie was in sweats, hair in a messy bun. She let him in and nodded toward the couch…“She’s at the shop. I needed to talk to you alone.” She said before going and sitting cross-legged on the couch while Lando awkwardly paced in front of her, a nervous energy about him that didn't match his usual carefree charm… “Do you plan on wearing a hole in my rug, or are you gonna sit down?” Kylie said as she sipped on her cup of tea…

Lando sighed…flopping onto the edge of the couch, and ran a hand through his hair…“She’s just… she makes everything feel like it’s slowing down. Like the noise goes away.”

“You mean like peace?” Kylie said as she smiled gently…He nodded but couldn’t look up to meet her eyes yet…“Yeah. That.”

Kylie watched him as her voice softened…“You know, she thinks she’s easy to leave.” Lando looked up, startled by Kylie speaking suddenly…“She won’t say it out loud. But I see it. Every time you leave — she braces. Like she’s already preparing to be forgotten.”

He swallowed hard. That landed deeper than he expected…“I could never forget her.” Lando let it out like a whisper but Kylie heard it…“I know that. But does she?”

Silence.

“She thinks the people she loves always choose something else over her. Your next race. Her ex. Her old best friend. She’s wired herself to expect it.”

Lando clenched his jaw. The ache of her words settled in his chest.

“She matters, Lando. So much. But she’ll never say it. So if you feel something real, don’t leave her guessing.”

She paused and eyed him with a look that felt she was about to say something that would hit the deepest… 

“You don’t have to win a race to prove it. You just have to show up. Now. While you still can.”

Lando leaned back, heart thudding and for the first time, he felt it — the edge of everything he hadn’t said pressing against the inside of his chest, ready to spill out…But he just nodded.

Because somehow, Kylie always saw right through them both…

The rain was soft but steady, casting a sheen over the sidewalk…(Y/n) was locking up the shop, hoodie pulled up, hair damp. She jumped slightly when she turned and saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes on her like he’d been waiting for hours…A concerned tone laced (Y/n)’s voice as she spoke…

“Lando? What are you—are you okay? It’s pouring.”

He stepped forward, barely flinching at the rain…“I needed to see you.”“Everything alright?”

He hesitated. Then looked at her the way someone does right before jumping off a cliff…“I’m leaving in three days.”...Her expression softens, nodding slowly.

“I know. That’s okay.” Lando shook his head as he stepped a bit closer and gulped…“No. It’s not…She frowned tilting her head…“Lando—” But he cut her off… “You keep saying it’s okay. That you’ll stand by me. And I love that about you. I need that. But it’s not okay for me. Because I don’t want to go back to pretending this isn’t something real.”

Her breath catches. His voice was quieter but urgent, rain catched on his lashes… “You matter more than anything I’ve done this year. More than any podium. More than any trophy. I wanted to win that race for you because... you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to come home to.”

She blinked. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him — like he had said something she had been waiting her whole life to hear…“I’m not asking you to follow me. I’m just asking you to believe that no matter where I go — you’re what I’m coming back for.”...and just like that, something crumbled and rebuilded in the same breath…Raina took a step forward, lifted her hand to his rain-soaked cheek…“Then go. And race. But don’t think for a second I’m standing behind you.”She touched her forehead to his.

“I’ve always been right beside you.” He closed his eyes…and for the first time in months, the noise really did stop…Just rain. Just them…And finally, no more unspoken things between them.

The air was sleepy, mist curling low on the ground. The city hadn’t fully woken…Raina walked Lando down the stairs, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. He was in jeans and a cap, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, tired but not from lack of sleep — from trying not to memorize everything about her face one last time…They stopped just outside the building.

Silence hanged…“Text me when you land?” (Y/n) smiled up at him…her arms wrapping around herself as she looked up at him… “I will. Even before, probably. You’ll get sick of me.” Lando smiled down at her as she replied…“Already am…He laughed, but it was a little uneven…They stood there, facing each other. The quiet is weighty in a gentle way — like the calm before something changes. She shifted slightly, like she was about to step back, but he didn't let her…Instead, he tugged lightly at the sleeve of her hoodie.

“I don’t want this to be one of those things we almost said. Or something that fades just because I got on a plane.”...Her eyes lift to his…He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

“So... I was thinking. When I get back…”

He types something. Turned the phone to show her…A reservation screen for a quiet little place by the water. Candlelight. A real table. Her name…

“A proper date. You. Me. No race weekend chaos. Just dinner. And I am trying very hard not to be completely stupid around you.”

Her brows lifted, amused and touched and blinking fast…“You want to date me, Norris?”..He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Kinda already am. Just figured I should make it official before some other idiot realizes how impossible it is not to fall for you.”...Her breath hitches.

She stepped forward and kissed him softly before she wrapped her arms around him, face tucked into his chest, words muffled but full…“You better come back in one piece.”....He leaned his cheek to her hair, holding her tighter than he probably should…“Always. I’ve got someone to come home to now.”

They pull apart slowly, reluctant. The cab waited at the corner…He lingered a second longer. A smile ghost’s Lando’s lips as he walks to the cab…

“Don’t forget — candlelight, good food, and you trying very hard not to fall harder for me.”

(Y/n) called after him…“No promises, Norris!”

He turned, walking backward for a beat, eyes still on her. “Save me a bouquet.” He says with a smile… “Save me a podium.” She replies as she waves softly…

And with that, he goes — but not really gone. Because this time, he’s coming back to her.

©WHOISRAII 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[trappedinacomputer]

Hey so in my depression about tr!WaterHalo falling apart again I started thinking about why and went down a rabbit hole of angst so if that was Bad's intention , great job :D (/neg but not really, just in a silly way)

Anyways: So i was thinking about how, yes tr!Bad is an oblivious aromantic son of a bitch (I'm aromantic as well, that doesn't explain away his lack of rizz /j) who fumbled the dragon lady for like the millionth time, but there is probably a little more going on to this given him saying "angsty lore is the best lore" so I went down a rabbit hole of where this all goes

Yes this is gonna be a lot and yes it is honestly lowkey embarrassing that I thought up all this because of tr!Bad nosediving a date so hard he might as well have ended up at the center of the earth, BUT I DIGRESS:

*warning: most of this has nothing to do with holywater, it's mostly just !Bad*

tr!Bad has kinda been going through Ultra Depression™ like I've mentioned before due to him losing everything he cares about, which has resorted in him becoming a Gold Medal Olympic Alcoholic but also he's started to push people away a bit more

I got to thinking maybe the reason why Bad botched this date so hard (if we ignore the fact that he is in fact just this oblivious and didn't realize it was romantic) is because he's trying really hard to not actually care about Water, because he knows that people he cares about get hurt/die, even given his best efforts to save them..so maybe if he lets Water start hating him on her own, she'll stay away and live a long life like she deserves

BUT then I started thinking about !Bad as a character and just how fucking depressing he is which led me down the path of thinking about what exactly happened to him/what is happening to him now which leads me to my theories of his character and timeline of events:

Bad is an angel chilling in heaven, doing what he's told like any good angel does when he's given the task of killing the dinosaurs, which he does because it's what he's told to do. However, when he returns he is told this is his purpose, his one task for all eternity is to kill and cause destruction which is not at all something that sounds inticing.

He, along with others, rebel against this idea that their fate and existence is predetermined against their will which directly contradicts their existence. They get thrown out of heaven leading to his fall and being trapped under Euphrates, only being able to escape when he, who would've guessed it, kills the angels guarding him, proving the heavens right.

Like a curse and a constant reminder, a halo continuously hangs over his head even if everywhere he goes, catastrophe follows and every person he learns to love dies by either his own hand or his own actions/inactions, reminding him that his fate is sealed and he can do nothing to prevent it, no matter how hard he tries.

And this gets proven for him when he stumbles onto an island and meets the first creatures in a long time he'd sacrifice himself for: his kids. This was a love that ran deeper than any he had felt before..so when they went missing and he couldn't feel their lives close, he spiraled. Believing he had lost them, he prepares himself to be a catalyst for the end of the world, torturing himself to feel a fraction of the amount of pain he was about to bring. If his kids were truly dead, then the end of life on earth would bring them together again, he would swallow his pride and do what the heavens sent him to do if it meant he could reunite with them again.

But he miscalculated. They were alive, being held somewhere horrible where he had to embrace the killing to potentially save them, but by that time, he was already prepared. When they were escaping from that place and he tanked a nuke to save Dapper, his decay got worse and he found himself in his own mind, between life and death, debating with himself and the different parts of his soul on what to do. He was so prepared to take on his mission, but now what? He was so dead set on completing his purpose to return to his kids, but now they were here with him again, he needed to protect them and take care of them, it wasn't time yet again.

That purpose ate away ate him, but he couldn't risk hurting his kids so when the opportunity to go back to that place of killing arose, he sent the part of his soul that wanted it the most, while the other parts got to stay and protect his kids from it. But his body was still in a state of decay, and actions always have consequences, he suffered for literal months slowly dying but stayed there for his kids, until his body and mind literally gave out, reliving the worst moment in all his lives: the day he lost his son.

When he gets to that desert again, with the scales laid before him and two doors on either side, he didn't even notice they were balanced, not until he looked towards the door "Home", the only place he was ever meant to exist. The door normally locked and chained shut not stood clean, almost welcoming..and he screams "why?" Why now does he get the choice to return home? Why when he finally has something to protect, that he's finally been able to protect, does he get the option to go? He contemplates for what feels like days, but he made a promise to return to his babies, and while it wasn't a deal, he couldn't bring himself to break it.

So he returns to them..but he only has limited time with them before he seemingly does what he does best and the people he loves are once again taken from him. Once all his kids are done, he has carved their memorial into the very earth, and the last of his comrades depart, he does as well. He kills himself seemingly in the only rift in whatever protection the island has and seems..surprised to arrive back in the desert in front of those scales. He turns and sees his kids run up to him from the wide open gates of his home. A beautiful sight, if it didn't come with a cost. Heaven basically dangles his kids in front of his face, knowing these creatures were what he chose over them, knowing the pull they have over him and using it as leverage to push him to complete his mission.. and it kind of works.

Now he finds himself in this new realm, meeting new and old friends, people he cares for, but knowing deep down he's here for a specific reason. He needs to finish this Cathedral to figure out the missing piece to the puzzle of what his mission is/how to complete it. But what's the rush really? He knows his kids are safe in heaven, they can't die again and are out of harms way, he can spend some spare moments enjoying life before he snuffs it out.

I don't think this Cathedral is to contact heaven, I think that's what Bad hopes it does. Bad has made it clear that his mind and memory are all over the place, I've said it before and I'll say it again: I believe that the part of his soul that remembers his mission and is fully prepared to kill the entire planet to see his kids again, is the one he left in Purgatory, and I also fully believe Heaven would trick him into bringing that part of his soul back and forcing Bad to combine it back with the rest of himself. And when not if his mind fails again, maybe it isn't alcohol or a broken heart, but a broken soul, torn between killing everyone to return home to his kids, or never seeing his kids again to buy humanity more time than heaven believes they deserve.

There are some more theories I have that are a lot more eccentric like Bad potentially going through with the apocalypse but betraying heaven to make a new world (maybe with the help of Foolish 👀) but that's not really something I believe is planned lol

[catssluvr]

drunk, travis martinez

loser!travis martinez x popular!reader (1.4k words)

in which travis takes care of a very drunk you, unaware of the reciprocity of your feelings for him

warnings: throwing up (sorry 😭), pre-crash,

꩜ ꩜

Travis doesn’t want to be here, not at some frat boy’s house party after getting a call from one of your friends asking him to come to your rescue.

Every corner smells like alcohol, he fights the urge to give up and go home. You probably don’t even want him here, not him. But he doesn’t trust your friends enough to let you at their mercy.

Making his way to the backyard, he finds you sitting on a chair by the pool, lost in thought with a red cup and an empty look on your face.

He has to hold himself back from smiling. Even with a smudged mascara and a disveled looking hair, you still look like the prettiest girl in the world to him.

He slowly approaches you, being careful not to startle you as he slightly crouches to make his presence known.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks gently, making you lift your gaze to him.

“Who are- Travis!” You practically squeal, catching him by surprise as you throw yourself in his arms for a hug.

He stumbles slightly at the force, catching you before the both of you almost trip over into the pool.

“What are you doing here?” You ask beaming, nuzzling into his warm and very much pounding. chest. He doesn’t remember ever being this close to you.

“Taking you home.” He answers simply, hoping you’ll be easy to convince.

“I don’t want to go home.” You pout, grabbing onto his arms for balance.

“Look, i don’t think it’s a good idea to stay for much longer. Not in your state, at lea-“ Travis stops trying to reason you once your expression starts to show discomfort.

He calls your name softly, immediately understanding once you pull yourself away from him to run towards the bin. You empty your stomach with a pained noise, making his heart soar at the sight.

Travis holds your hair, fingers pulling back the strands that fall onto your face.

“Maybe home is okay.” You groan after a moment, frowning at the weird taste in your mouth.

He doesn’t feel mean to say ‘i told you so’, but one raise of his eyebrows says enough of it. Softly, he pulls you up and guides you towards the house so you can finally leave, letting you lean on him for support.

The boy picks up a water bottle on the way out, swiftly moving through the crowd of drunken people until you can feel the cool air on your cheeks again.

His arm is around your shoulder and he enjoys the way you seem to lean closer than you have to because of the cold.

"Why would you even get so wasted?" He huffs.

"It's a party, silly." You giggle, eyes glassy from your hazy state. He's glad the walk to your house is quick.

"Right." He clears his throat trying to ignore your staring.

"My turn." You say excitedly and reach to boop his nose with your finger.

"What?" He raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"To ask a question." You clarify before adding, "Why would you be here?" You search his face intently with your eyes.

"Uhm- to take you home. I said it before." Travis feels himself flushing as he answers.

There is absolutely no chance you are about to find out about his rather obvious feelings for you in a drunk state. That would feel even more humiliating.

"You're so nice to me, Trav." Your voice comes out sweet like honey.

"Just trying to help." It takes everything to act cool when you're giving him compliments, he realizes even more now that he'd do everything to make you say it again.

"I had my friends to help me." You quip teasingly, like you want him to say something.

"I don't like your friends a lot." He practically grumbles, hating the thought of you sitting there for the whole night.

"Okay." You whisper softly, leaning your cheek against his shoulder on a thankful way. "Thank you for caring about me."

"Everybody cares about you." He finds himself blurting out. Why can't he not be a defensive jerk for a second? You've only been nice to him all evening.

"Not like you do." You mumble with a scrunch of your nose, thinking expression on your face as you look at the ground ahead.

It’s not long before you reach your house, his heart tightening at the thought of loosing the feeling of your warm cheek on his shoulder.

You stand on your porch for a moment, fishing your key from your pocket before playing with them awkwardly.

“No one is home.” You say tentatively, “You can come in for a while” With a shy smile on your face.

And how can he say no to that? He couldn’t even if he wanted to. You being shy is also not a usual

“Oh uhm- sure.” Travis blurts, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

You guide him inside, taking him up the stairs to your bedroom and sighing in relief once you catch sight of your bed. Throwing yourself on it, you bury your face into the soft pillows.

Him presses his fingers against his smile, taking in your comfortable form.

“You should really take these clothes off.” He quips, cheeks growing red as he realizes his words. “I mean- change them into pajamas or something, you know.”

“Too tired.” You mumble, seeming to ignore his awkward moment.

“I’ll get it. Tell me what drawer they’re in.” He offers, deciding not to give you a hard time and just help you get on with feeling better.

“Second.” You grumble, pulling yourself up from the bed. “I’ll brush my teeth while you do that.” Before disappearing into the bathroom.

Travis opens the drawer, pulling the clothes that look the comfiest and settling them down on your bed. He sits at the end of your bed, scared to even move and do the wrong thing.

"Sorry i look like a mess." You cringe as you walk back into the room, your makeup now removed and face glowing from your skincare. You sit by his side with a sweet tired smile.

"I think you look pretty." He finds himself saying, eyes widening at his own bluntness.

"Yeah?" Your expression suddenly softens, eyes practically burning into his soul as you tilt your head.

His breath catches, feeling like every dream he's ever had is finally coming true when you lean closer and brush your fingers past the strands of hair falling to his face.

But then his mind wonders, you're drunk. And that's all this is, you don't want it at all.

Gripping your hand gently, he pulls it away just to leave it by your lap. A confused frown forms on your face, eyebrows pulled together in what he can swear looks like hurt.

"You don't want me?" You question, slightly dramatic with your tired state.

"No- i mean yes. You know i do." It's all he's ever wanted, actually. Just not when it might be the first thing you regret when you wake up next morning. "Just not when you're drunk."

"I'm very lucid." You huff, eyes pleading as you pout. It makes him want to kiss it off.

But no. He's more respectful than that. With a sigh, he picks up your pyjamas from where he left them.

"You should change." He decides on saying.

"Yeah." You say in almost a whisper, making him pray you're not angry at him.

Travis can't help but dread the fact he's actually managed to be the one rejecting you - it was always meant to be the other way around. Turning away, he waits for you to get changed.

"Can you stay for a bit?" You plead as he turns back to you.

He should said no, his parents are going to kill him for getting home so late. It was already weird when he told them he was going out to a party.

"Course." He smiles gently, sitting on top of the covers next to you as you snuggle under them with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, again." You reach to squeeze his hand.

He doesn't answer, retributing the squeeze before you both settle in a comfortable silence.

Travis stays until he's sure you're asleep, when you're breathing is even and your hand feels limp on his. Reaching to adjust the cover over you, he leaves with quiet steps.

Hoping that he's able to look you in the eye at school tomorrow.

[sawmaw]

summer scoundrel

🫀 floyd leech x (fem) reader

🫀 hate sex, sub (a bit switchy. bratty?) floyd, femdom, objectification(?), denial, riding, facesitting, 69

🫀 this takes place during the lost in the book with stitch event! this one is more recent but i was writing it during a huuuge writer’s block and it may or may not be obvious. also i know in the event they can’t take off their clothes but i really don’t care. sorry i like guy tits. anyway!

You were beyond frustrated.

Getting stranded on an island was already annoying enough, but everything else was just piling on; what the hell do you mean there are aliens? Sure, the little blue one was cute and helpful and made the bungalow to sleep in so you didn’t have to get eaten alive by mosquitoes any more than you did, but he was also so energetic and so exhausting… and the other alien was flat-out just trying to rid you and your classmates with robot sharks. Absolutely lovely.

You were also tired of fruit already. You normally loved it, but having it with every meal each day was just rough. Your jaw was sore from chewing coconut, your tongue felt raw from eating pineapple, and you had no taste for more berries and fish. You just wanted a nice steak at this point—rare, so it would be easier on your jaw.

And more, you’ve felt more pent up than you thought was necessary after a few days. Normally when you were on vacation, you would just take care of yourself in the shower if you needed. Here, you have absolutely no chance. None of you were supposed to wander off alone, especially you, being the only one without magic to fight for yourself, so that was off the table. You couldn’t sneak away because someone would eventually find you, whether it be Gantu and his shark bots, one of your schoolmates, or Stitch. You didn’t feel comfortable doing it late at night, either; what if someone hears? How could you even clean up afterwards?

Again, beyond frustrated.

The outfits that everyone were put in certainly didn’t help. You didn’t think you would be one to stare, but you really couldn’t keep your eyes to yourself. It was like that book was just taunting you when it did it. Did Riddle’s shirt have to be tied up like that? Put up just enough to make you want to pick him up by the waist and carry him off to who-knows-where?

Admittedly, you had originally thought your sights would be set on Jack—his outfit really didn’t leave much to the imagination… however, most of your attention was drawn to Floyd.

…Has he always looked like that? Sure, you’ve seen his arms during his basketball games, but (pardon your vulgarity) when the fuck did he get massive tits?

How does he even hide it? Is it just because he wears baggy shirts? Are you an idiot? You feel like an idiot.

You really couldn’t help your staring, or your mind wandering. You silently cursed the universe for it. Why it had to be right now that you see him, when you can’t even do anything about your frustrations, you had no clue.

Yet another night rolls around and you have to sit by the bonfire again, you have to force your eyes to stay on the flames again, you have to constantly bounce your leg in your seat to distract yourself again. You hadn’t said a word in what felt like hours, but it wasn’t much of an issue—everyone else filled in the silence just fine.

Even as it grew later and some of the others slowly trickled back into the bungalow for bed, you stayed put and quiet. You, Floyd, Lilia, and Ace remained—the usual night owls. The other three continued to entertain each other, and sand eventually ended up getting thrown at Ace. Normally you’d laugh, but right now you actually couldn’t give a fuck about your surroundings.

Only when it felt like your eyes would take damage did you finally tear them away from the fire… and immediately to the sand. It really felt like something was wrong with you, you just could not think about anything else. You wanted to see how he’d look with his wrists handcuffed to your bed (or even behind his back), how he’d look on his knees, how he’d look in bondage.

You wondered if he would be good at eating pussy. He looked like he would be. Or maybe not. Maybe you’re just delusional. Maybe you could teach him how to, if he doesn’t. Maybe you could teach him until it’s all he ever wants to do, to bury his face between your thighs, to slowly circle his tongue around your clit just the way you like.

You shifted slightly in your seat on the makeshift bench (it was just a log, but whatever), you could almost feel his tongue on you. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to fight off the dull throb between them, the mental image of your hand in his hair burned into your brain. How much longer do you have to be stuck on this island like this?

You’re just curious is all. You’re just curious as to how he’d react if you rode his dick even after he’d already came, how much he’d squirm if you just sit there and edge him until he can’t even properly speak, how he’d—

“So ya stare at me almost the entire time we’re here, ‘n’ now ya won’t look at me?”

Floyd’s abrupt voice forced you back to reality, your attention snapping up to him from across the fire. You immediately realize Lilia and Ace were gone—when did they go to bed? You didn’t even notice.

You blinked at him, silent for a few moments. You thought you were being discreet enough. Still, you don’t really care much to fully deny it. How do you even respond to that?

“…I dunno.” you eventually murmured with a halfhearted shrug. You looked him in the eyes, and you still couldn’t stop yourself from imagining them welling with tears of pleasure as you…

Man, you really need to knock it off. Maybe you should schedule a therapy session soon, this can’t be normal.

He giggled in response, a wolfish grin on his face. “What, d’ya want something?”

Yes. Obviously. Is he stupid? No, he’s not, he probably knew. He totally knew. You wish you could go just one day without something poking fun at you. Fuck that book, fuck the universe, fuck Floyd. For the love of all things holy, fuck Floyd.

“Nope.” You tried to play it all off, you truly did, but it just wouldn’t work. Of course, that only made him want to prod even more.

“Your poker face sucks, Shrimpy.” he drawled.

“I dunno, your necklaces.” you lied. Curse your pride. “They’re dumb as hell and they’re loud and jangly when you move.”

His humored snort irritated you to no end, but you still managed to keep a straight face. “Really? I think they’re pretty cool.” He glanced down at the array of necklaces dangling from his neck and brushed a hand against them, just to hear the clanking of the fake pearls.

“They’re not.” Really, they looked like something you’d buy from a party store. You think, at least. You can’t really remember the last time you went to a party store.

“Should I take ‘em off, then?” He then bunched the necklaces in his hand.

“No,” you replied almost too quickly, “just saying they’re stupid.”

And of course, Floyd just ignored you and pulled them up over his head anyway, giving you a better view of his body through his open shirt. Okay, now that’s just mean. Is he making fun of you? He has to be.

Your eyes flickered down to the necklaces tossed haphazardly on the sand, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You didn’t know if you wanted to pounce on him so you could fuck him or so you could throw him into the fire.

You swear your mouth was going to start bleeding from how much you were biting the insides of your cheeks.

“You’re mad if I don’t wear ‘em now.”

It had absolutely nothing to do with the necklaces, and you knew he knew that, too. “I really don’t care.”

“Then look at me ‘n’ tell me what the problem is.”

You wanted to roll your eyes until he suddenly snapped his fingers to try and get your attention back on him.

The pure disrespect—you’re not a dog. He’s more of a dog than you ever will be, and you’ll put a leash on him to prove it if you have to.

“Snap at me like that again and you’re losing your fingers.” Truly, you didn’t have the patience for that tonight. Or any night.

“Are ya gonna bite ‘em off? Scary.” His sarcasm made you want nothing more than to shut him up in any way you could. Choke him, gag him, sit on his face, cover his mouth, anything. Just take a deep breath and calm yourself. “C’mere so I can hear ya better. The fire’s too loud.”

Oh, for the love—

“Fine.” You then stood and trudged around the fire so you could sit yourself next to him on that uncomfortable log. Stitch could build an entire bungalow, several blankets, pillows, even sleep masks all from scratch, but he couldn’t make a few couches or chairs out here? Really?

“Now,” he hummed as he leaned against your shoulder, “what’s got ya so mad, Shrimpy?”

It would probably be a good idea to shove him off, but your thoughts were a bit too obstructed right now. “I’m not.”

“Seem mad to me. Are ya mad at me?” You could feel his eyes burning into you, though you still stared at the sand below. Just don’t pay attention to him or his head on your shoulder.

“No.” you mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Then whaddya—“

“Just—just this!” You abruptly pushed him off and grabbed a handful of his shirt, giving it a harsh yank. You blatantly ignored his sharp inhale of surprise and his widened eyes. “What the fuck is this? You show up in this and I just have to try to act normal?!”

Floyd was silent for a few beats before a toothy grin slowly stretched on his face. “…So that’s what this’s about?”

“Yes,” you hissed, “that’s what this’s about. When the hell’d you even start looking like that? Have you always looked like that?”

“Like what?”

“You—you know how!” You just wanted to absolutely throttle him right now, and all he’s doing is smiling and snickering.

He grabbed your wrist and moved it to push your palm into his chest, and all you could pay attention to was how easily your fingers sunk into the flesh. Fuck’s sake. “Like that?”

“Obviously.” You didn’t hesitate to give a tight squeeze—you really didn’t have a reason to restrain yourself anymore.

Floyd visibly suppressed a wince, his fingers twitching around your wrist. “I mean—“

“I don’t actually care.” Your hands continued to aimlessly wander around his chest, his torso, his arms. Maybe you were overwhelming him, you weren’t paying much attention.

He never stopped you, though, so there’s that at least. “Got handsy quick, Shrimpy.” he mused as you squeezed and felt around his shoulders.

“Shut up.”

“‘Kay.” And then he swatted your hands away and slid himself onto the sand, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your shorts.

“…Hell’re you doing?” Despite the irritation in your voice, you still lifted your hips to aid him in tugging your shorts down. You weren’t just gonna not do that and blueball (Bluepussy? Blueclit? Whatever) yourself.

“What’s it look like? I’m shutting up.” He kept eye contact as he guided your thighs apart before leaning in, using his teeth to grab the edge of your panties and tug them down. He didn’t bother to look and see what the book had decided to put on you, and neither did you. It could’ve been the best lingerie you’ve ever seen or the ugliest pair that you’d find at an old thrift store, you didn’t know nor care.

He lazily pulled your thighs onto his shoulders. It wasn’t much longer until his tongue slowly dragged over your clit, and you were unable to stop your body from tensing. His tongue felt weirdly soft and long—is that just a merfolk thing? Oh, who cares, it feels good.

The moment your hand slid itself into his hair, he immediately dove in. His lips latched on and he gently suckled on your clit, his tongue swirling with newfound vigor in a way that had your hips involuntarily squirming against his face.

“F-fucking slow down—“ you managed to gasp out before slapping your free hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your own choked moans and squeals. You really didn’t want to wake anyone up, even if they were inside the bungalow.

Floyd deliberately disregarded your words and let out a small hum against you, the vibrations making your thighs clamp around his head. Despite your earlier thoughts, you couldn’t exactly tell whether he was actually good at it or not; he was just doing whatever he felt like, no organized movements. It worked, at least.

Your orgasm was building a lot quicker than you would’ve liked. You tried and tried again to tug him back by the hair, yet he refused to let up. His hands grabbed onto your hips to hold you in place, his tongue keeping its steady pace. You were just about to cum, until he stopped altogether.

He pulled away with a taunting chortle while you twitched and squirmed from the unsatisfying denial.

“…Dickhead.” You planted a foot on the center of his chest, shoved him onto his back and kicked some sand at him—just for good measure.

You didn’t give him time to respond before plopping yourself on top of him to straddle his hips.

“What, whaddya gonna do?” What you wanted was to beat that smile off his face, but you couldn’t really do that, could you?

The moment Floyd’s hands found your waist, you tugged them off with an absentminded ‘don’t touch me.’

His grin immediately dropped into a pout, still trying and failing to get his grip on you again. “C’mon, Shrimpy, don’t be mean…” he whined, planting his feet in the sand in an attempt to grind his clothed cock into you.

Oh, the audacity of this man. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not squirming!”

“You are!”

“I’m just getting comfortable.”

“Well, knock it off, the stupid button on your shorts hurts.”

”Then take ‘em off—“

You gave a swift smack to his chest before he could finish his growled demand. “Don’t even try that with me right now.”

The smack made him writhe a bit more with a small huff. “…Do that again.”

And so you did without hesitation, delivering another equally-as harsh slap to his skin, which drew an odd cackle from him.

“Thanks, Miss Shrimpy.” he said way too gleefully for your tastes as he bucked up against you again.

You wanted to grimace at the name, but your attention was quickly brought back to his grinding. “I said quit that.” you mumbled, finally making a move to unbuckle and open his belt.

“You take forever.” Floyd complained, not wasting another second before helping to tug his shorts down enough for his dick to spring out. He grabbed your hips again to try and pull you onto himself. “Now get on, get on, get on, get on…”

And you didn’t let him, just yet. You kept your hands firm on his chest to hold yourself up. “I’m not getting on after what you did.”

“Aw, c’mon!” he whined, “I was being nice. I could’ve been a lot worse!”

Now, how the hell was edging you nice? Whatever. You didn’t answer him, because why should you?

You grind your pussy down against his dick, your slow pace almost agonizing for him (and yourself, but his impatient desperation was a lot more important than yours right now).

It was only a few rolls of your hips before they were grabbed forcefully with a low whimper from Floyd. “Okay, I get it, Shrimpy, I get it.” His fingers dug into your skin, hoisting you up to hover over his aching cock. “Just do it already.”

“I’m not gonna—“

“Please?”

That made your jaw tense a bit. “…’Please,’ what?”

“Please fuck me?”

You hardly even registered what you were doing before you finally let your hips sink down, slowly taking in his dick. The low whine drawn out from him almost made your breath falter, and your fingers twitched against his chest with each inch.

You had to keep still for a few seconds after bottoming out to adjust, because by God he felt bigger than you were anticipating.

Predictably, he wasn’t very patient once he was inside. “Shrimpy, are you gonna move? Please? Please move, please, please—“

“Would you just sh-shut up?” Despite your best efforts, your voice was a bit shaky while your body got used to the feeling.

“I’m just askin’ ya to move!” Again, he attempted to squirm underneath you until you smacked his chest, his hand shooting to cover his mouth and suppress a whimper.

“Yeah, yeah, be patient…” After a few moments, you let yourself slowly lift your hips before abruptly slamming them back down, the feeling of his dick immediately hitting your sensitive g-spot forcing a sharp gasp from you—fuck, it was like he was just made for your pussy. Was that even possible? You almost wanted to ask if you could get a custom toy modeled after it.

Later, though.

“No, no, don’t stop right now, Shrimpy…” His arms wrapped around your waist and you’re suddenly pinned against his chest as he pounded into you from below.

Is this guy allergic to going slow?

You weren’t even given the opportunity to reply before your hair was tugged back and his mouth was on yours, muffling any noises either of you made as his tongue slipped its way past your lips.

Again, his tongue felt so strange, so foreign against yours. Not unpleasant in the slightest, you almost wished you’d kissed him sooner than now; it just felt good.

Until it was forced down your throat. You didn’t know if he just got overly excited but it really just felt like he was trying to facefuck you with his tongue, tears pricking your eyes while you tried to suppress a gag. You struggled in his grasp, overwhelmed with both the lack of air and his cock slamming into you harder than you could process, and he snickered into the ‘kiss.’

You finally managed to squirm free and broke away to gasp for breath, planting your hips down harsh enough to pin his own to the sand. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” you managed between your panting.

“My bad.” Nothing about his demeanor was apologetic, though—not his tone, not his grin, not his hands already trying to lift your hips again.

“That’s not an apology.”

“Sorry, Miss Shrimpy.”

A swift slap to his face. “What’d I tell you about that?”

“Sorry.”

To your own mild surprise, your hand wrapped around his throat with a squeeze, though what surprised you even more was that he was just letting you.

You didn’t ask why.

Your eyes narrowed and your hips slowly ground down, trying not to pay too much attention to how your clit rubbed against his skin. “Why can’t you just be fucking respectful?”

“I said I was sorry!” he pouted, his voice scratchy from your choking him.

“Are you really sorry?”

Floyd nodded with a whine. “Yeah, sorry, I get it, just go faster…” He tugged you up again and you allowed it. “You forgive me, right, Shrimpy?”

You didn’t want to, but whatever; you just wanted to cum at that point. “Fine.”

At that, his hands guided your hips to slam down against his again. He let his own moans flow freely, though his smile made it obvious that they were exaggerated just to further piss you off. “Shrimpy, it feels so good…”

“Quit that, y-you’ll wake someone up.” You gave his neck another squeeze in warning.

“That’s their problem! Not like they didn’t already know ya wanted to fuck me.”

You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment at the thought—you really hoped nobody else actually noticed your staring. “…Shut up.” You used your hand on his chest for better leverage to pound his cock harder.

Floyd’s breath caught, his head thrown back as he tried to match your pace. His jaw clicked shut with a curse through his teeth, unable to get out any more words to taunt you with.

A few more moments, and he was already throbbing inside you from his impending orgasm. “Sh-Shrimpy—“

“Nope.” You immediately lift yourself off enough for his dick to slip out, twitching from the sudden loss of stimulation.

“What, no? No, no no no, no ‘no,’ don’t ‘no…’” he babbled as a panic immediately set in. He tried to force you back down, his hips surging up to no avail. “I said I was sorry! I did, Shrimpy!”

His hands were tugged away again and you shifted atop of him, crawling your way up his body before turning around to hover your cunt above his tearful face. “Make it up to me, then.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Floyd yanked you down. His tongue delved and writhed in desperation with mumbles of ‘sorry’ and ‘promise,’ each vibration from his begging making your thighs twitch around his head.

It was better (albeit more frantic) the second time around, which you were appreciative for.

His dick trembled and leaked with precum in front of you, crying more than he himself was. “There, good boy…” you hummed, your fingers wrapping around him to give a few leisurely strokes.

Another whine from him and his tongue shoved itself inside you. Sure, getting tonguefucked works, too, you supposed.

You leaned down to press a few kisses along his length, his hips instantly bucking up against your face. “Chill out.” you hissed, trying to hold him down.

“Wanna cum…” It took a few moments, but he eventually relented and kept still.

“Me first.” With that, you allowed his tip to push past your lips. Normally you’d take more than that, but you really didn’t feel like it. It’s not like he needed anything more, anyway.

Or deserved anything more.

His response was to pump his tongue deeper into your pussy, only pulling it out to swirl at your clit every few moments.

You tried to keep your focus on pulling your mouth off his tip each time he started twitching again, but it was getting so, so hard to with the knot in your core rapidly tightening.

You didn’t bother to warn him before your thighs involuntarily squeezed around his head and your vision went white, your hand returning over your mouth to quiet down your own sounds that didn’t really sound quite like yourself.

Once you were at least somewhat aware of your surroundings again, you felt a hand roughly grasp your hair and his dick forced down your throat again. You weren’t even able to catch your breath first, how rude.

Floyd only needed to pump a few more times, the feeling of his cum shooting at the back of your throat making you flinch atop of him and instinctively swallow. You hardly noticed his panting and his whiny thank you’s when you pull off, finally gasping for air.

“…Ask to do that next time.” you grumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist as you slid yourself off of him to fetch your clothes from wherever they’d been thrown.

“I know, I know, sorry! It was taking forever!” It almost annoyed you that he was able to just zip right back up and buckle his belt in no time, while you had to slip everything on again. It would’ve been great if the book gave you more accessible clothes, but fine. “I’ll make ya somethin’ good tomorrow, Shrimpy. Iunno, I’ll catch a different fish than everyone else for ya in the morning. It’ll be a big one, too.”

“Mhm, sure, let’s just wash off in the water.”

“Nope! Don’t feel like it. I wanna go to bed.”

“Then you can go do that, I’m washing—“

“Nope!” He scooped you up in his arms, deliberately locking you against himself to keep you from moving as he trudged his way back up to the bungalow. “Bedtime.”

You grimaced. “Ulch, we're all sticky, though.”

“Yep. Maybe we’ll wake up stuck together in the morning ‘n’ everyone else’ll have to peel us apart.”

“You’re nasty.”

[aussie-engene]

Best friend!Sunghoon x fem!reader

Fluff

Best friends to lovers

Warnings: rain, reader is called an idiot and earns a smack by Sunghoon

It was Froday night, and it was raining heavily. You never really liked the rain, but you didn’t hate it either. You and Sunghoon were supposed to meet up at your apartment for your regular movie night. You never actually cancelled the gathering, but you thought that he wouldn't risk catching a cold just to watch a movie with you.

You and Sunghoon have been friends since middle school and inseparable since then. You did everything together and shared everything as well. It was obvious that you had a crush on each other, but none of you spoke about it, not wanting to sound delusional.

Time went by, and the rain was getting heavier. You checked your phone to see if Sunghoon had texted you, but nothing. You sighed and relaxed on your couch, starting the movie you were supposed to see with Sunghoon. Suddenly, there was knock on the door, but you ignored it, thinking that it was the wind. Again. You stood up and opened the door only to find a soaked Sunghoon in the front. You stood there with your mouth open about to say something, but you were cut off by him.

"You started the movie without me?" He pouted. Sunghoon wasn't from the people who showed many emotions, but that was different with you. He acted like a kid with you and let all his emotions show.

Still dumbfounded you respond

"Are you crazy?!"

He chuckled

"No! I'm in love!" He didn't break eye contact while saying it and your eyes widened even more

"Now, are you gonna let me in, or am I gonna stay here for the rest of the night?" He chuckled again, and you moved a bit to let him in

'What did he say?' You thought that you were the crazy one at this point. You pushed your thoughts away and rushed to give him some clothes. He had many stuff of his at your apartment just like you did at his.

Once he was done changing you both sat on the couch and started the movie again. You cuddled close something that you always did but this time it felt different. His words were almost tattooed in your brain.

'No! I'm in love!' He couldn’t have meant you right? He probably meant someone else! Right?

During the movie, you were insanely quiet, and Sunghoon caught onto that. Usually, you would make comments about the bad acting or how the main character is a pick me. He looked at you and noticed that you weren't even looking at the screen but at your hands, fiddling with something nonexistent.

You were curled up against him, and he had one hand all around your small frame. His other hand just resting on his thigh. He studied you for a bit more and took one of your hands in his free one. You looked up at him, snapping out of your thoughts. You were lost in his eyes until he spoke up. Voice sweet like honey.

"Hey,is everything okay?" He looked concerned and you understood that you were the reason behind that look. You put on the best fake smile you had and responded

"Yeah, everything's fine!" He didn't look convinced and you cursed about how well he knew you

"Mhm right" he paused the movie and turned fully to face you

"Spill it all out come on"

"Spill what out? I don't get what you mean"

"Oh come on Y/n I know you long enough to understand when you are lying!"

You let out a sigh and he furrowed his eyebrows

"You can tell me everything. You know that..."

"Sunghoon what did you mean by the thing that you said earlier?"

"About letting me out in the rain?"

"Nope...the other one..."

"Oooooh" he smiled leaving you confused

"You mean the fact that I'm in looooove"

"...yeah...that one..."

"What I meant by that..." he took both of your hands in his now "...is that I am in love with a really close friend of mine"

Your heart dropped. He didn't mean you and you were sure. He totally meant someone else. Your thought kept going on until he continued.

"Woooow you're not that smart after all" he chuckled earning a side eye from you

"I thought you already knew. I'm pretty sure I gave all the signs needed"

You swore that you were crazy! You couldn’t understand a thing of what he was saying.

"Okay I'm convinced! You're an idiot!" He said smiling at you

"Why am I an idiot?"

"Because I literally just confessed and your still looking at me like I'm an alien trying to marry you!"

"WHAT?!"

"Gosh don't yell!" He said covering his ears

"Wait wait wait"

"I'm waiting I'm waiting I'm waiting"

"YOU are in love with ME?!"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" He laughed while looking at you waiting for the moment you will actually understand what he said

"WHAT?!" You stood up scaring the poor boy. "That can't be!"

"Girl just confess at this point! I know that you feel the same way..."

"How...?"

"Well haha...I may or may not...you know have heard you...saying it to bff/n..." he was whispering literally scared for his life

"I quit!" You said while throwing your hands in the air

"So is that an 'I love you back' or like an 'I hate you'?"

"First"

"F-first?" He said wide eyed and shocked. Yeah he had heard you saying it but it wasn't to him!

"Yep!"

"Ugh..." he was too stunned to speak

"Since you can't talk why don't you just kiss me? Be useful for once!"

He didn't waste no time and slumped his lips on yours

No matter how shocked you were, you would never lose the chance at teasing him. You acted cool, but internally, you were screaming both at the fact that he liked you and for your random dose of boldness.

Once he pulled back you smiled at him and said

"By the way, if I were to choose between you and the alien that would try to marry me... I would definitely choose the alien!"

You earned a light smack on your head but he just signed up for his last words...

[ririright]

hi dove 🫶🏼

I'm the anon who requested the hayden x young wife reader pregnancy headcanons

I keep rereading that post and I am absolutely in love with it !

I was hoping you could do a part two of that, as well as an angsty version of it—where hayden actually decided he doesn't want kids at his age, reader is understanding of that but still feels disappointed about sacrificing the chance at being a mother.

Shock and Panic

When you first tell Hayden you’re pregnant, his face goes pale, and he stammers, “Wait… are you sure?”

He doesn’t mean to sound doubtful, but the shock is so strong that his first instinct is denial.

He spends the next few hours pacing around the house, running his hands through his hair, muttering, “I just… I didn’t think—”

The Overwhelming Guilt

He knows you’re excited, and seeing the hopeful look in your eyes makes his heart ache.

But his own fear overpowers his joy, and he can’t pretend to be happy when he’s not.

He hates himself for making you feel disappointed, especially when he sees how carefully you bring up baby topics.

Overthinking Everything

Hayden is much older than you, and all he can think about is being an “old dad” who can’t keep up.

He starts comparing himself to when his daughter was little, thinking, “I barely survived the first time. How can I do it again?”

He’s terrified of letting you down, of being too tired, too busy, or too overwhelmed to be a good dad again.

Quiet Tension

For a while, there’s a quiet, heavy tension between you. He’s distant, lost in his own thoughts.

You try to bring up baby names, and he just nods with a weak smile.

At night, he turns over, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his fear but too ashamed to say it out loud.

His Daughter Notices

His 10-year-old daughter is the first to sense something’s wrong. “Dad, why are you and (y/n) so quiet lately?”

He tries to brush it off, but she’s sharp—“Is it because of the baby?”

It’s a wake-up call for him. He realizes his fear is affecting not just you but her too.

A Confession in the Dark

One night, you finally break down, “I thought you’d be happy. I thought… you’d want this with me.”

His chest tightens, and he finally admits, “I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m too old. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not a good dad to this baby?”

You tell him you’re scared too, but that you want this baby—your baby with him.

Reluctantly Going to Appointments

At first, Hayden’s hesitant about the doctor visits. He’ll drive you but stays quiet, watching from the corner.

He’s afraid of getting attached, but the first time he hears the heartbeat, his eyes well up with tears.

He won’t admit it, but he’s starting to feel something—something like hope.

Little Glimmers of Excitement

You catch him standing in the empty spare room, staring at it like he’s imagining something.

Sometimes, he’ll accidentally smile when you mention baby kicks, but he quickly hides it.

He keeps looking at his daughter, feeling guilty but also starting to see how much joy she brought to his life.

Small but Meaningful Changes

He starts texting you from work, “How are you feeling? Need anything?”

If you have a craving, he’ll quietly go out and get it without a word.

Sometimes, you wake up and find him with his hand resting gently on your stomach, even in his sleep.

The Moment He Breaks

One night, he’s watching you sleep, hand resting on your growing belly, and it just hits him.

He breaks down, whispering, “I’m scared, but I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t show it.”

He pulls you close, and you wake up to him softly apologizing, over and over.

Slowly Allowing Himself to Dream

He still has doubts, but he starts asking about baby names and looking up parenting tips.

He starts to think about how his daughter will be as a big sister, and the idea makes him smile.

He’ll sheepishly bring you a tiny baby onesie he saw at the store, mumbling, “I thought it was cute.”

Confessing to His Daughter

He has a quiet talk with his daughter, telling her she’s still his little girl and always will be.

She hugs him, grinning, “I get to be a big sister? That’s so cool!”

Her excitement helps ease his fears—she’s thrilled, so maybe it won’t be so bad.

The Protective Instinct Kicking In

When you’re further along, he’s constantly checking in. “Did you eat enough today? Are you comfortable?”

If you’re feeling sick, he’s immediately by your side, rubbing your back and whispering comfort.

If anyone makes you upset, he’s quick to defend you—“She doesn’t need stress right now, okay?”

Quiet Conversations with the Baby

When he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll gently talk to your belly. “Hey, little one. I… I’m sorry I was scared. I promise I’ll be here.”

His daughter catches him doing this one night and smiles, hugging him, “You’re gonna be a great dad, Dad.”

Finally Letting Go of His Fear

When he feels the baby kick for the first time, he freezes, eyes wide, then breaks into the biggest smile.

He kisses your stomach, whispering, “Hi, little one. I’m your dad.”

From that moment on, he’s still scared, but there’s love there too—a fierce, protective love.

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Why are people hating on Eddie Diaz?

Long story short - he's an abusive and manipulative asshole to someone who is supposed to be his best friend.

Longer explanation under the cut:

He's a coward who can't tell his best friend he took a job in El Paso (just like he didn't tell him he was leaving in the first place), then whines at Hen to do it for him because he can't talk to Buck because he *checks notes* has been checking in with him and trying to help him and the rest of the crew by doing grief assessments on them.

Then when Buck finds out via Ravi (who found out via Chim who Hen told) Eddie took the job with the El Paso FD and is upset his best friend didn't tell him, eddie snaps, shoves him against the wall, gets in his face, shoves a finger in his face, and yells at him that he makes everything about himself and nobody knows how to talk to him because he's spiralling (he's not - he's holding it together for everyone) and that he (Eddie) lost Bobby too and doesn't buck know how hard it was for him to get the call at 3am and not being able to cry or break down because it would freak Chris out. And then he had to actually tell Chris about Bobby. And basically accuses Buck of being too selfish to even try and save Bobby.

*paraphrasing because it was like 2.30am when I watched it*

"Don't you think I did everything I could to save him?"

"I don't know, i wasn't there."

the next morning Buck wakes up to the sheets on the sofa folded up and a note on top "gone to the airport" and thinks Eddie fucked off back to Texas without saying goodbye or clearing the air.

Only he didn't - he went to pick up Chris from the airport and his aunt Pepa ("did you know she had a stroke?!") and CHRIS is the only one who actually says he's sorry Bobby is gone to Buck.

And Eddie is gaslighting and being an asshole in that scene too.

"I thought you went back to texas"

"No I went to the airport. Airport and texas don't even have the same amount of letters" - aka "lol why did you think I left when I was being a dick to you last night and the sheets I slept on were folded up with a note on top??"

And he basically shoves Chris at Buck so he can't be angry at him anymore. And Pepa talks to Buck about trying to live again after a traumatic experience - like her having a stroke- while Eddie is being "such a good father" because he's hanging out with Chris.

Not once does he apologise for snapping at Buck, for being a dick to his supposed best friend who was trying to help and be there for him. Who gave up his home so eddie wouldn't lose his in LA, who gave him a place to sleep even though he has family in the city that he could have stayed with...

He's just being an abusive dick but the buddie fans call it fighting "like an old married couple". Sure - if one of them was abusive and manipulating.

I wish he'd fuck off to texas and not come back but there is a video of Ryan and Gavin on set in Buck's (or Eddie's) house with boxes everywhere so I guess they move back to LA... and buck can just deal.

[asiatic-apple]

Tracing fault lines

Caleb x female reader

Words: 1.7k

Content: reader has scars from being a Hunter, angsty caleb, mentions of reader's past grief and survivor's guilt, sexual tension but nothing too nsfw

a/n: as someone who scars a lot and very easily, I couldn't shake this idea of caleb finding all the scars reader got while he was "gone"—and how he would kiss every one of them Read on AO3 here

Caleb’s fingers freeze in the middle of carding through your damp hair. The towel around your body loosens as you shift, and that’s when he sees the discolored line arcing along your shoulder blade. His eyes follow it to another jagged scar that dips down your back before it’s hidden beneath the towel. It feels like his chest might cave in with how tightly his heart clenches.

“You only had a couple small scars when you started at the Hunters Association,” Caleb murmurs to himself, the frown in his voice unmistakable.

Back then, he worried, sure. But he knew you were careful. If you weren’t careful enough, then at least he was there to check on you. He made sure you weren’t being reckless then.

Now, nearly a year has passed since he…had to leave you. And your clothes, he realizes with a sick twist in his gut, have been hiding a battlefield since the two of you reunited.

“When did this happen?” Caleb’s voice is soft and breathy as his fingers tickle the mark on your shoulder blade. He already knows the answer, but he still needs to hear it from you.

You hesitate, a memory flickering to life before you can shut it down: the flash of a wyrm’s sharp teeth too close for comfort. A sudden sting of pain as its spiked tail rakes across your skin when you mistime your dodge.

You swallow against the rising panic creeping up your chest. It’s taking everything in you to lock it back down.

His fingers make another pass against the scar, and you realize you’ve been quiet a second too long. You shrug off his concern. “Don’t worry about it. It happened several months ago.”

He exhales slowly, trying to bury all the things he wants to say. You barely have time to gather yourself before his fingertips find another scar, then another—a map of all the moments he wasn’t there to protect you. Proof of all the dangers you were forced to face alone.

He wonders how many more marks are scattered along your torso and your legs. Just how much have you been hiding from him? Were you more reckless in his absence? Did you throw yourself into danger, thinking it was better than the pain of grief?

Caleb can relate to that last part too well. But it doesn’t mean he can bear the thought of you rushing headfirst into every fight, desperate to feel closer to the one you lost. I should have been there, he thinks, guilt curling tight in his chest. Every raised line on your body is a quiet accusation, a reminder of how much he missed.

He wants to kiss each scar to erase the memories associated with them—and to better understand you. He wants to uncover the pieces you’ve hidden beneath clothes and soft, practiced lies.

I’m fine, you always tell him. If he could, Caleb would ban you from ever uttering those empty words again. He doesn’t want secrets or niceties. He wants your truth, even if it hurts to hear it.

“Tell me about what happened here,” he whispers, not giving up this silent fight between you two. His fingers follow the faint curve of a scar along your neck, one he would have noticed sooner if it weren’t for your hair hiding it.

Another memory rises, bitter and sharp, but you do a better job of pushing it to the recesses of your mind this time. “Cat scratch,” you deadpan.

He hates how you always use that excuse, even when you know he’s seen through it for years. It doesn’t stop him from pushing until you finally confide in him.

His brow creases as his fingers trail lower, brushing the brutal line he noticed before. “And what about this jagged one, hm? Is this a cat scratch too?”

You sigh, and he can tell you’re going to cave now. “Herte knave,” you mumble, shoulders sagging in defeat and slight embarrassment.

You’ve always hated admitting you weren’t strong enough, weren’t fast enough, when it mattered. And you especially hate letting Caleb in on that secret because you know how overprotective he gets.

This time, it stings even more to admit your failures because of the implications of them. All your scars reveal just how much you couldn’t cope with Caleb’s death. How much you wished it was you who stepped back into the house first that day.

Shaking off the residual grief—your brain still hasn’t gotten the memo that he’s not really dead—you clear your throat and finish your explanation. “It lunged at me before I could spot it coming.” You decide to leave out the part where you almost didn’t make it back in one piece.

Even though he’s relieved you’re giving him real answers now, Caleb is not fully satisfied yet. He wants to see everything. Not for the first time, he feels a different kind of yearning—not the usual pulse of desire, but the sharp, aching urge to stand in front of you on every battlefield. The urge to shield you so you never have to know pain again.

His fingers tug gently at the towel, intent on finding out how far that jagged line snakes down your back. For once, he’s not even thinking about the fact that you’re completely bare beneath the towel. You stop him before it slides too low on your chest, and he blinks, remembering his manners. 

“Please,” he begs before he can think better of it, “let me see the rest of them.”

There’s a long pause. Caleb expects the usual—for you to brush him off, make a joke, remind him that he hides his own wounds just as carefully as you do. But tonight, something in you softens. Instead of pushing him away, you nod silently and lead him into the bedroom.

When you approach your dresser, you glance back at him, and he gets the hint. He turns to face the opposite wall so you can change in privacy.

After a few seconds of tense silence, you call him to join you in bed. You’re dressed in nothing but a comfy sports bra and soft shorts, your skin bared in the lamplight. The sight nearly undoes him.

Caleb approaches slowly, as though afraid you might vanish. You lie back, the quiet stretch of your body against the sheets drawing him closer without a word.

The rest of the evening unfolds in hushes and shivers. His fingertips trace every line on your skin, each touch delicate as if memorizing you anew.

He doesn’t linger near your chest or lower stomach. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. But even so, goosebumps bloom in his wake, and you hate how easily your body betrays you. Your heart flutters beneath his hands, warmth unfurling in your cheeks and low in your stomach.

With each scar, he asks soft questions, and you tell him the stories. You tell him about a mission gone wrong, an unstable protofield that popped up in Azure Square, and countless other close calls since he disappeared from your life.

And with each confession, his grip tightens a fraction, his jaw working as though he’s biting back all the things he doesn’t know how to say.

“Promise me,” he whispers, voice breaking from the weight of everything you’ve revealed. “Promise me it won’t happen again.”

With soft lips, he presses the plea into your skin, the words repeating between shuddering breaths. He doesn’t stop muttering them amid careful, chaste kisses scattered along the scar above your rib, the curve of your belly, the hollow of your hip.

Your mind goes blank. The only sounds in the room are the soft rustle of the sheets, the whisper of your breath hitching—and his, catching at the edges like he’s desperately holding back more than the soft gasps that escape him. Each sound hangs between you like a secret.

Caleb has given you a few platonic kisses before. But those were always innocent, even though his affection for you has long run deeper. None of the quick pecks he's ever peppered on your forehead in the past compare to the heat of his touch right now.

There's something far more dangerous in the way he looks up at you during each slow kiss. Like he's indulging in something he knows he can't have yet. Something sinful he can't help but savor to its fullest.

But it's okay because this is just what close friends do, right? This is comfort. This is care. This is not a confession. You repeat it like a mantra as his hands find a scar just above your hip, dangerously close to where you ache for him.

His lips begin to stray from the scars along your body, brushing against your shoulder before settling over the racing pulse at your neck. He lingers there, warm breath ghosting over your skin, too close.

Then he hovers just shy of your mouth. You know what he’s waiting for, but you don’t close the gap. Not yet.

Instead, you just whisper, “I promise.” The words seem to tremble on your tongue.

You both know you can’t promise never to get hurt again. But that’s not what he’s really asking for. You understand the true meaning behind his plea: if anything ever happens to Caleb again, you’ll find a way to go on without him. You’re not sure you’ll keep that promise. But it’s easier to lie for now.

Caleb pulls away, slowly, as though releasing something heavy inside himself. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he’s satisfied with your promise for now, and he knows you might need some space after being so vulnerable.

He thinks he’s being merciful when he slips quietly from the room to give you privacy. But the moment the door clicks shut, you draw in a shaky breath, fingers drifting to the places his lips caressed. The warmth of his touch lingers, a phantom ache that leaves you restless and wanting.

And in the hush of the empty room, you let yourself wonder what it would be like to trace his scars someday. To pull back the armor he wears so carefully, to uncover the jagged secrets he’s never spoken aloud.

Maybe, you think as you close your eyes, maybe one day you’ll both stop pretending you’re only trying to heal old wounds.

[byjovewhataspend]

the whole 'what is canon and should be examined' vs 'what was a gag and should be ignored' in hero academia is always so weird

Bakugou being put in a dog muzzle and restraints at the Sports Festival is just a gag and not to be seen as a real thing that happened---- up until the LoV sees it and thinks hes being abused and that it would make him hate heroes, so they explicitly kidnap him to show that they are on his side (and also remove his restraints despite him attacking them, to show they are different from the heroes). so not a gag, actually important

Hagakure is naked, its just a gag---- up until we find out Mirios suit was made from his own hair so that it reacts the same as his quirk and hagakure doesnt need to be naked so why the hell is she? Its a gag but apparently its actualyl in-universe sexism (compare her treatment to Bubble Girl, Midnight, Mt Lady, and Uwabami)

'Quirkless people CAN be heroes if they have heroic hearts' seemed like it would be a theme but then after a bit you realized it was just a way to start a character journery and quirk status isnt ACTUALLY importan...... up until izuku loses his quirk and it turns out, yeah, quirkless people CANT be heros, despite being world famous and well trained in fighting and certainly at least as good in a fight as bubble girl (and also despite aizawa havign lost his quirk but not being made to give up his uniform even 8 years later). not a means to an end, actually important

the theme of 'reaching out to take someones hand' didnt actually end up being what it seemed to be, since 2 villains died from it who otherwise wouldnt have. so. we shouldnt have taken that seriously as 'the way to save people thematicallt'. i understand the thought process behind 'killing tomura saved him' but its obviously just not the case for Toga, for her it was clearly a punishment. ((which is bullshit-- the only named character she killed was Curious, and in that scenario she was allowed to do that. i love the MLA but they literally cut off giran's fingers to lead the LoV there to rescue him so they could kill them. all kilsl there were done in self defense. doesnt count!))

also mic and aizawa reaching out to Kurogiri didnt save him in the end. he did 1 single task for them and then died. he died trying to save tomura, even. so reaching out has something like a 10% success rate? i think it only worked to bring Izuku back from being a vigilante... and uhh... maybe it worked on Nagant? a little? (((i dont count la brava and gentle, they showed us from the beginning that gentle was a good guy))). (i guess it worked on Joki Joki but im ignoring that, they arent a real character)

so reaching out a hand ONLY works for good guys. not the desperate and scared and angry. so. again! not a theme, in the end (if so, wayy too messy and specific). kind of a buzzword

anyways this isnt like.. an essay. this is just me going 'whoa. so. this was really hard to anticipate, actually. you really have no idea of what to take seriously or not'

its sort of like those videos that talk abotu 'every time Red shows up there is a ghost, this movie was so meticulously perfectly made' but also there is a plenty of continuity mistakes and things like that in that movie too, and certainly the REST of his movies arent perfectly tight either. if you expect them to be youre going to end up confusing yourself. What is perfect? what is a joke? what is a mistake?

its just interesting. i think thats why mha has such a robust fandom, actually. there is so mUCH that if you focus on any one thing you can change your whole perception of everything and its great for inspiring creativity.

like... its an obvious one, but why did UA even HAVE a child-sized muzzle on hand to put on bakugou at an awards ceremony? and everyone was comfortable doing that publically rather than jsut having him not go up to the podium? that really DOES speak the the society, especially when we find out some peopel at home (the lov) were disturbed by it! people scoff that headcanoning mic and shinsou as havign muzzle trauma is overdramatic but... ua has child sized muzzles on hand and used them in public! Joki Jokis parents sewed his mouth closed and left him to die (and we never hear if they were arrested). thats 2 kids in muzzles at least!! its a lot more kids in muzzles than most fandoms have!

the show (but not the manga) STARTS with Kamui woods calling a purse snatcher 'the lowest of the low, pure evil' before beating him up publically, him and Mt Lady competeing to see who can hurt him in the most excitign and showy way to get fans. thats. Dark. but THAT is just a gag.

on a less dire one, if izuku had been a girl and everything else had been the same, you know 100% that the costume that department gave him wouldve been all exposed skin and skintight lycra. he'd be doign battle in a bikini. his kickboots woudl be heels.

something like 1/3 of hero prospectives seem to just be theater kids that see it as a way to achieve celebrity, and i do think thats interesting for the society and world building

idunno. i just think its interesting. a million little implications that did or didnt mean anything. how often fans go 'stop worldbuilding on that ONE thing, it wasn't serious' whereas they themselved worldbuild on a DIFFERENT thing

thats all. rambling. big fandom. many opinions

[whosyourmommy69]

Sugar and Sin Pt4

It was late. Too late for anyone to be knocking on your door.

At first, you thought you imagined it.

Then it came again.

Hard. Insistent. Almost frantic.

You sighed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders as you shuffled toward the door.

But the second you opened it?

Your heart dropped.

Rafe stood on your porch, swaying slightly, his blue eyes glazed over and wild.

Drunk and probably high

And the worst part?

He looked like he’d been crying.

You froze.

"Rafe?"

His breath hitched.

"Shit," he muttered, stumbling forward. His hands gripped the doorframe like he needed it to hold himself up. "You-you look so fuckin’ pretty right now."

Your chest tightened.

"What are you doing here?"

He let out a breathless, almost broken laugh.

"I-I fucked up."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah. You did."

His face twisted in pain, like he physically felt your words.

"I didn’t mean it," he rushed out, desperate. "I didn’t mean any of it, I was just-I was pissed and, fuck, I don’t know-" He ran a shaky hand through his hair, yanking at the strands like he was trying to rip the regret out of himself. "I was being a fucking asshole."

You folded your arms.

"That’s not an apology."

Rafe’s jaw clenched.

Then his entire body slumped.

He took a step forward, and before you could react, he dropped to his knees right there on your porch.

Your breath caught.

"Please," he whispered, looking up at you like you were the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

You stared down at him, heart hammering, because this was Rafe Cameron.

Arrogant. Mean. Cruel.

And yet?

Here he was. On his knees. Begging.

Begging for you.

Your chest ached.

"You humiliated me, Rafe." Your voice was soft, but the weight of it hit him like a punch to the gut. "In front of everyone."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know," he rasped. "I fucking hate myself for it."

You hesitated.

Was this real? Or was this just Rafe being Rafe, only wanting you when he thought he’d lost you?

But then he grabbed your hands.

Pressed his forehead against them, his grip tight, desperate, shaking.

"You’re all I fucking think about," he admitted, voice raw, broken. "I tried-I tried to forget, tried to let you go, but I can’t-I fucking can’t."

Your breath hitched.

Rafe looked up at you, his pupils blown, his expression wrecked and helpless.

"Tell me I didn’t lose you," he whispered. "Tell me I haven’t fucked this up completely."

Your heart twisted.

Because deep down, you knew this was the truth.

That he was obsessed with you. That no matter what, he would always come back.

Always.

So, the question wasn’t whether he wanted you.

It was whether you could ever truly walk away.

You exhaled shakily.

And then you reached down and touched his face.

Rafe let out a ragged breath, leaning into your touch like a man starved.

Like he needed you just to breathe.

You should have told him to leave.

You should have slammed the door in his face, let him sit in his own regret and watch you move on.

But when you saw him, on his knees, hands gripping yours like they were the only thing keeping him together

You knew you were fucked.

Because Rafe Cameron was your biggest mistake.

And yet?

You were still going to make him again.

Your breath was uneven as you crouched in front of him, forcing him to look at you.

"Are you going to hurt me again?"

His whole body tensed, like the thought alone made him sick.

"No," he whispered. "I swear."

You studied him, searching for a lie, for a reason to push him away.

But all you found was raw desperation.

Rafe Cameron, the same arrogant, entitled asshole who made you feel like you were nothing in front of his friends.

Looking at you like you were everything.

And you?

You believed him.

So, instead of pushing him away, you pulled him in.

Rafe sucked in a breath when your lips brushed against his, soft at first, hesitant, dangerous.

But then?

Then he snapped.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, gripping your waist, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.

Like he was terrified you might disappear.

Like he was trying to crawl inside you, claim you, make sure no one else ever touched you again.

"Say it," he muttered against your lips, voice hoarse, demanding.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your whole body burning.

"Say what?" you breathed.

Rafe groaned, his forehead pressing against yours.

"That you’re still mine."

Your stomach flipped.

"Rafe-"

"Say it." His hands tightened on your waist, his voice cracking with something real. "I need to hear it."

You exhaled shakily.

And then, you gave in.

"I’m yours."

Rafe let out a broken sound, half relief, half hunger, before kissing you like he was starving.

Like he was terrified of losing you again.

And when he picked you up, carried you inside, and slammed the door behind him

You knew there was no going back.

Because no matter how much he hurt you, you would always let him back in.

Always.

[sunshinetomioka]

More Rdr2 modern AU thoughts no "criminality" in this. I just can imagine them living in some sort of commune centered around a ranch. (this was inspired by Dutch talking about the Paris commune) I changed a few ages so it fits more modern society and like most of them don't really have exact ages. Some aren't as fleshed out as the others but it's not cuz I like them less or more.

Hosea(55) : was the one who bought the ranch with Bessie then slowly Dutch, Arthur and John came to live here too. When she sadly passed away he was glad they were here. Him and Bessie were a foster home, which is how Arthur and John met them. He sees Abigail as the daughter he and Bessie would have had and therefore think of Jack as his grandson. Bessie and him were teachers in primary school.

Dutch (45): got elected mayor of the commune somehow, it doesn't actually do anything but feeds his need of power so it's cool. He is the one talking to the law and intruder most of the time if there's a problem, can't deny he has a way with word. Has like 3 accusations of starting a cult. It is unsure how he and Hosea met and when, everyone gets lost with all the stories they tell.

Arthur(36): lived here almost his whole life but can spend months away on some weird roadtrip and then comeback. Learned many different job to help around. Spend his free time either drawing or enjoying nature. Likes shooting competition too. He's chronically ill/ disabled because of tuberculosis, he's doing better than a year ago but the sequel will follow him all his life.

John (26): hated living here at some point, couldn't find anything he was "good enough" at. After taking a self discovery journey (and fleeing the responsibility of being a father this young) he found out he liked herding the cows or sheep. I can't really imagine him and Abigail still being together in a society that doesn't push women to find men like in 1899. I think there would be tension at first but they'd end up sharing "custody" of Jack, after all they live in the same "town" (and Hosea would kill John if he didn't take care of that kid)

Abigail (24): arrived here with luck, mother of Jack she would have probably aborted if she didn't have a pregnancy denial cuz she feels she's too young to be a mother (which she was, she finished high school only a year or two before!) Hosea loves teaching her the rope of the ranch, she is family after all.

Uncle (67): Came at some point, acted like he belonged and never left. Nobody can tell how he arrived. He usually goes into nearby town to buy or sell or... Well avoid work at the commune.

Susan (49): She knew Dutch for a while now and after some health related issues he decided to offer her to live at the ranch, she greatly helped with setting up everything that the commune became.

Bill (31): after getting discharged by the army he couldn't find any places that wanted him, struggled with homelessness for a while until he joined the commune. He's very helpful when it comes to muscle jobs which they clearly lacked when he joined. He probably works on the day outside the commune to make himself some money, it's mostly helping with manual task.

Javier (26): just like in the OG story he got taken in by Dutch, Trelawny somehow managed to help him get documents so he could be legal. He's an aspiring musician.

Karen (24): She was on a roadtrip when she discovered the commune, she stayed for a while before leaving and then returned a year or so later as she couldn't find anything to please her way of living in the rest of society.

Mary-Beth (23): Met Arthur in one of his roadtrip and absolutely fell in love with the stories he told her, she asked if she could join the commune in hope of finding inspiration for her books.

Tilly (21): She got to be in the commune thanks to foster care after losing both her parents. She sort of grew up with John and loves going into the city and meet people, she spends lots of time with Mary-Beth discussing their respective lives. She probably does tik tok videos to explain how they live in the commune. Her, Karen and Mary-Beth probably take Arthur with them when going to protest march and even tho he's not fond of crowds he always come if they ask.

Molly (27): A rich girl who discovered the commune through Tilly's videos. She decided to live there as a way to rebel against her family. Despite her upbringing she loves the place and the people but never shows it.

Lenny (19): studying in the university in the biggest city near the commune, Dutch met him the day he initially got rejected from uni, he said he could use a guy like him once he'd graduate and somehow found a way to have Lenny accepted. Comes in the commune when he's on holidays or to study before exams.

Sadie (30): After losing her husband in a fire she tried to kill herself, thankfully Dutch and Arthur saw her and stopped her. They took her to the commune, she still suffer from depression but is starting to feel like living again. Spend a lot of her time with the animals. She used to live in the ranch her husband inherited.

Charles (28): When he was only a few years old he was separated from his mother, remembering very little of her and her heritage. He was given to his father who became an alcoholic as time passed. He visited a lot of tribe to try and find his heritage, when passing in the region of the commune he met Arthur and they talked for a while as Arthur guided him to the local tribe. He comes from time to time, stay for a while. It's like a second home.

Sean(24): tried to rob them in order to feed himself when Arthur caught him and brought him to Dutch the latter decided Sean could be forgiven by working around in the commune, he hasn't left since then.

Kieran (28): after an incident in the ranch he worked at, Kieran tried to find a new place to live. He first found a job with the O'Driscoll but didn't like it. He accidentally entered the commune and they thought he was a robber. After he explained his situation they let him go and he decided to stay there.

Pearson (38): he takes care of the general store but it isn't really a general store it's more like where everything is centered to make it more accessible to the rest of the commune. He arrived here after hearing about it in a nearby city, thought it might reminds him of his time in the navy.

Swanson (47): Pretty much like in the game Swanson went through a lot and lost his faith, Hosea and Dutch took pity of him and offered to help him find peace again in the commune. After he got better and decided to serve as the clergyman of the group.

Strauss (53): I think that the canon version still work quite well for him, I can see his family being Austrian immigrants in a big city and deciding he should live in a more rural place and that's how he ends up in the commune. He takes care of everything that falls under bookkeeping (be it money, materials or food)

Trelawny (41): doesn't actually live in the commune but he's a long time friend so he comes by often.

Jack (5): everyone's favorite boy, spent his two first years living with Abigail (who was kindly helped by Hosea and sometime Arthur) right now John and Abigail found an agreement and he spent half his time with Abi and the other half with John. They do some activities all together too.

There's probably lots of inaccuraty since I don't live in the US and like unless it's disrespectful I don't really care lol

[batmanssweetgirl]

Bruce had a rough night as batman. So he takes it out on his wife.

Minors do not interact!, NSFW!!!! 18+

this probably really sucks because it's very late at night I'm writing this also I had to make a whole new account! I lost my log into the other one I had so many ideas💔, but here's a random little one shot for you battinson lovers like me!. This is not proof read!

You and bruce haven't been married long, but you knew immediately whatever stress he felt. You always knew. Especially the stress from him being batman.

Bruce came home after a long night of trying to catch the riddler with it only ending with him being soaking wet from the Gotham rain.

And god he was angry, frustrated even.

As he walked into his bedroom upstairs first to check up on you. Making sure you were asleep, still waiting for his return. His wet boots are louder than usual leaving slight wet steps as he walks to the bedroom. (More mess for his poor butler alfred has to clean up).

You could hear his steps a mile away, but in this case he was just right by the bedroom you two share. Your propped up back to the headboard as you hear him get closer you continue to read the book in your hands, your reading glasses tilting down a bit.

Bruce walks in, oh his love. Pride and joy in her pinkish nightgown a book propped on her hands. Except his reaction coming out as a loud huff and a sigh as he walks closer to you.

"I thought I told you I wanted you in bed before me." Bruce says leaning over the bed his hands around your wrist squeezing a bit.

Of course you smile shaking your head as you let the book fall into your lap, you cup his face smirking a bit. "I am in bed. Before you baby"

Bruce smiles a bit his suit still having drops of rain on his shoulders and back. He pulls you down a bit climbing on top of you "don't start being a brat." He grumbles his crotch against yours, he pulls out his fingers out of his glove throwing it across the room to the floor. "Would you be a good girl if I made you cum first?" His voice is still husky and breathy. Bruce moves his fingers down under your nightgown putting one fingers in touching your wet hole.

You moan, arching slightly trying to roll your hips to his touch. He's been gone for so long. Only a few hours can go by and the only thing you want is his touch. "Fuck..." "Bruce baby please"

Bruce's face was serious, but not in an imitating way. Seductive. Sly. He moves two of his fingers in you slowly tracing around your pretty pussy then harshly shoving them inside of you as you gasp. He enters them in and out hearing your pornographic moans. God. He could hear you moan his name or gasp for hours. His angel. His sweet girl. Bruce hated to admit this to himself but it's hard to be mad at you especially when he's obsessed with everything you do.

You hug your arms around his shoulders as he moves faster into your pussy making you moan more and more before you cum all over his fingers. He shoves his fingers into your mouth making you taste your cum. You slump a bit breathing hard as he flips you over. Well that is unexpected..

"Please baby, I need you so bad." You moan feeling his cold glove on the other side of your waist as he teases you smacking his dick on your pussy again as he pushes himself into you letting you get use to his big member first. He moves moaning going faster as you gasp still overstimulated by cumming on his fingers not even five minutes ago. He's fully on top of you, one of his hands on top of the headboard using it for grip as he groans his frustration into your pussy.

"Always getting away." Bruce grumbles as he goes faster. His skin slapping against yours as his nine inches gets deeper inside of you. Balls. Deep. He groans cumming in your pussy as you moan arching your back clenching your legs a bit squeezing around him. He smiles leaning down kissing your cheek then getting off of you grabbing a towel from the bathroom cleaning you up.

You work his suit off, your knees on the end of the mattress kissing the scars on his back as he gets the suit fully off he looks at you. Fuck he loved and lusted you. all the time. Bruce moves, turning round seeing your soft expression from kissing his back scars and tracing them with your fingers. He hated being vulnerable. Your his wife of course he had to be. Only around you though. Bruce pushes you down back on the bed fully kissing all over your face as you giggle "bruce! Baby please we gotta haha- go to bed!" holding his back scratching it with your nails.

This was the life.

[grain-of-sando]

venus as a boy

cm punk x reader

It's midnight in Los Angeles, and all you and CM Punk care about right now is eachother.

WORD COUNT: 1.40k TAGS: gender neutral reader, no plot/plotless, just plain-old fluff, very very sleepy cm punk TITLE INSPO: venus as a boy by björk

(cross-posted to ao3, read here !!)

In a city like Los Angeles, it’s hard to say that the city ever quiets down, whether it be the blaring of cars outside, the conversations that remain in motion regardless of time, or just the soft whistle of wind blowing through the city. The night sky would’ve enveloped the whole city in darkness if it wasn’t for the amount of light everywhere on the streets: the open stores, the windows giving away the number of people still awake, the lamp posts casting their light onto all the passersby below… “The Entertainment Capital of the World,” it’s called, and it doesn’t end at just movies and performances – to anyone who’s never stepped foot in a city, Los Angeles could send them stumbling trying to keep up.

It is midnight in Los Angeles, and you and CM Punk couldn’t care less about the bustling streets when the two of you had each other’s presence to bask in.

You were currently being held safely in his arms, which were sore from his match earlier this evening. Your back rested against his firm chest, and his chin lay on top of the crown of your head. He was in bed with nothing but his grey sweatpants on, too lazy to change into anything more after his shower. Your hands softly stroked the divots of his hands, loosely tracing around the ink on his skin. Your movements gradually went from lazily following the lines to vaguely running circles around the knuckles. The two of you were reaching the point in the night where staying awake was becoming increasingly harder. The rhythm of his breathing felt like a metronome that lulled you into sleep, your eyes fluttering open and closed. You couldn’t see Punk's expression right now, but he must’ve felt the same wave of tiredness since he hasn’t moved or fidgeted in a couple of minutes.

“Do you have a match tomorrow?” you mustered out, not as concerned with an answer, mostly just wanting to hear him speak. He hummed in response before saying, “No match, jus’ promo.” His voice came out as more of a sleepy slur of words than a fully thought-out answer, but his tone remained as sweet and soft as he always is with you.

It’s not ironic, more so just surprising to people when they see how Punk treats you. Not that anybody would assume he treats you badly, but when the other wrestlers who work with CM Punk (or just know him in the slightest), they’d assume his tough and bold nature carries into everything about him. You suppose it’s easy to assume since his life oozes with conflict right down to his career, but despite that, you know that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He treats you like you’re porcelain, like you’re an heirloom worth millions, like you’re god’s gift to Earth. It’s not out of a belief that he’s better or stronger than you; it’s out of pure, unabashed respect and admiration. He sometimes takes you backstage during gigs, and every time someone sees Punk interact with his coworkers and then you, it’s like night and day. He speaks very matter-of-factly backstage, like he knows what he wants to hear and he will get that answer regardless of who he’s talking to. He could be discussing moves and set-ups with his opponent, and then turn to you, and like someone sucked all the venom that laced his sentences, his icy tone will instantly turn soft and sweet like a marshmallow. You don’t even note the change since you’re so used to it.

You don’t go backstage as much anymore simply because you hate having to see him lose – the stage aspect does not make it any less of a bummer for you – but you look forward to the recaps he gives you when he meets back up with you. Sometimes he’ll take you to go get food so that he can scarf it down and get back all the energy he lost, but usually he just comes home and crashes while you nag him to go shower.

That familiar moment happened roughly 30 minutes ago, and even though both of you probably would benefit from going to bed by now, he was cooped up all day in a venue that is far too distant from the hotel. Now that he’s back with you, you don’t wanna end the time you two have together.

“Had a match today,” Punk started, moving an arm from your waist to rub his tired eyes. “Me ‘nd Rollins… I lost, but it’s settin’ me up for a big win next week..” You listen in, turning to face him while still resting yourself on him. You could smell the hotel bodywash on him, giving him a fresh smell with a faint lemony citrus note. His tired expression lacked any sort of threatening aura that he always exuded in the ring, with his eyes fighting to stay half-open. “Y’should come backstage tomorrow… Rhodes was talkin’ to me about you.”

“Hm?” you perk up, tilting your head up at him. “About what?”

“Something about not seein’ your face in a while.”

You think for a moment before answering. “I’ll go. I barely saw you today, it’ll make up for lost time.” He smiled, holding you as tightly as he could with his limbs heavy with fatigue.

After a moment of silence, he asked, “Did’ya do anything while I was gone?”

“Mm, nothin’ much,” you responded, resting your head to sit on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat thrum in a relaxed rhythm. “Walked around the city a little. I probably hit a million steps.” You sighed and made yourself more comfortable against him, latching onto his body for all of his warmth.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Where’d you go?”

“Some streets… I went to a couple shops,” you vaguely mumble, too tired to conjure up any details besides the bare minimum. “Ask me in the morning, I can’t remember.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can walk around the city together,” Punk says. “I don’t gotta be there ‘till 4. I missed you too much back there.” Your eyes are far too heavy to look up at him, but you smile to yourself and respond with, “I’d like that.”

You could relive a moment like this for the rest of your life. The two of you, sitting in the peaceful quiet, too comfortable to move or speak or even dare to interrupt the serenity right now. Both of you breathing in the same calm rhythm, arms wrapped around the other, Bodies entangled like a ball of yarn. The hotel room is completely still and silent, the only noise being the commotion outside and some faint music from another room.

You could feel his hand move to your face, with his calloused fingertips going along your jaw to your cheekbone to your temple before resting on the top of your head, aimlessly tracing circles. His hands were rough, but his gentle nature offset their coarseness.

Eventually, you fought your lethargy enough to turn your head up and look at him. He was gazing right at you already, his eyes seemingly full of adoration. The two of you didn’t say anything, but when he’s looking at you like that, with one hand holding your waist and the other moving to cup your cheek, you knew what he was thinking.

You don’t remember who closed the distance, but eventually, your lips were on his, and you didn’t dare move away. His lips felt soft against your own, melding to yours like a puzzle piece. It felt almost Shakespearean how tender this moment felt; the pure, unadulterated love taking over and encasing the two of you in a haze like an insect encased in amber. You were so engrossed in the kiss that you didn’t realize both of his hands were holding your cheeks, with your own hands resting on his shoulders. You were fighting sleep a moment ago, but suddenly you felt rejuvenated just enough to kiss him back.

When the two of you pulled away for air, your eyes immediately met again. His facial expression had nothing but intense awe, like he was a pilgrim in the presence of a holy saint. The only sound the two of you let out was your breathing, but no words had to be exchanged. You knew the three words on his tongue already, and he knew you had the same ones on yours.

As you softly dozed off against him and gave in to unconsciousness, you still felt Punk’s lips press softly against your forehead.