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no-144444 · 4 months ago

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the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right?

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body.

Sounds like you have it all.

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named.

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price.

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans.

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress.

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?”

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood.

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in.

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes.

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away.

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together.

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore.

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day.

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back.

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!”

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed.

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is.

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows.

But the worst part was that nobody noticed.

“He's right y’know,” Oscar smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off.

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock.

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh.

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off.

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break.

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track.

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back.

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone.

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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself.

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?”

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it.

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to.

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison.

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded.

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad.

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album,

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that.

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there.

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face.

Lando was entranced.

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part.

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new.

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably.

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them.

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door.

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock.

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone.

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back.

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on.

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly.

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily.

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room.

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you.

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t.

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock.

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet.

You sat up, staring at him.

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell.

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off.

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground?

“Oh,” he breathed out.

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence.

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied.

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time.

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

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Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going.

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later.

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not.

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Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room.

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it, but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings.

“What?” he groaned, opening the door.

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted.

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed.

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at.

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen?

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare.

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage.

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect.

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up.

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You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be.

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew.

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season.

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound.

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled.

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet.

The perfect night.

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He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage.

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter.

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs.

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press.

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did.

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered.

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him.

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari.

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari.

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you.

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random.

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred.

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!”

“Yes!” you agreed.

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers.

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time.

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before.

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily.

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes.

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door.

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way.

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober.

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando.

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch.

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come.

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie.

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line.

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do.

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question.

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning.

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not.

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him.

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world.

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in.

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped.

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people.

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic.

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back.

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would.

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door.

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it.

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #formula 1 #mclaren #lando norris x reader angst #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 2024

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psychoticallytrans · 1 year ago

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There's this idea, fairly common in society, that mental illness is for teens and up. Children are happy little creatures, generally, right? Sometimes they're abused and the trauma can make them mentally ill, but that's not common.

There are two fundamental problems with this attitude. One, it's incorrect to assume that trauma is the only reason a young kid can be mentally ill. Two, trauma is more common than people think. I'll be covering the first problem in this post through the lens of my particular experience.

Where I live, you can be diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 18 years old. You cannot be diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a minor. This poses a problem because my age of onset was in first grade, roughly six years old. Because of the fact that I was very young and new to the world, this was also the age of my first suicide attempt. Thinking I wouldn't be able to pass a spelling test genuinely felt like something worth trying to die over. So, I ate some hemlock, since I'd read about Socrates being killed with it. Luckily, I ate western hemlock, an unrelated species, and just felt kind of sick.

I'm not recounting that for fun or pity. I'm recounting it because children with mental illness are in genuine danger because they have little to no experience with managing their emotions, have little to no concept of the idea that their life can change and improve, and are dismissed by adults. I told a teacher that the test made me want to die, though not that I'd attempted to, and it was brushed off as little kid hyperbole. If I had used a method that was effective rather than one I thought would be, I would have been dead at six years old.

I would not receive medication that worked even a bit for another two years. I would not receive treatment for bipolar disorder specifically for ten years, and that required my PCP fudging the reason for the medication because she was afraid I would die if she didn't, and diagnosis was still two years off at minimum. I received a formal diagnosis at age 19, thirteen years after onset.

But surely that's uncommon, right? This story is a huge edge case, right? I actually have no idea, because age of onset and age of diagnosis are massively conflated for most disabilities. Policies like the one in my area that restricted bipolar diagnoses by age can artificially raise the age of "onset", in my case by thirteen years. The general idea that children are somehow immune to mental illness can also delay diagnosis by several years, perpetuating the idea that young children can't be mentally ill. The data on when people start experiencing mental illness is inherently skewed upwards, and I frankly don't have a good estimate on how bad that skew is. If anyone does have that data, please chime in.

Listen to children. If they're saying they're sad all the time, that they don't care about anything, that they don't see a future for themselves, those are signs of depressive symptoms. If they say that tests make them feel sick, that they can't do anything because they're scared, that they can't breathe and freeze up, those are signs of anxious symptoms. Many children talk about imaginary things, and that's just fine, but slip in a question or two about them to make sure that the kid is just playing, and not experiencing psychosis.

Children are new to the world and vulnerable, and they don't know what's normal and what isn't. They need people who are more experienced watching out for problems they might be having, and listening when they talk about having problems. If you can, try to be the person who perceives them, and tells them that things can be better.

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yinyuedijun · 5 months ago

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SINCERITY

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now, not when his blood is all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. If Suo makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry. (Or: Suo, Nirei, and Sakura get into a fight in the red light district and go to you to get patched up. Suo takes the opportunity to tease you mercilessly.)

4.5k words, suo x reader with implied one-sided sakura x reader, sfw with mature themes. set post-canon (they are all 18-19 years old), non-canon backstory details for suo and sakura (speculative as of ch. 146). fem reader – references to gendered professions, e.g. hostessing; reader wears a dress for her job in a girls’ bar. warning for inaccurate depictions of first aid! dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Suo’s never liked your job.

You suppose this is fair. The feeling is mutual. You’ve never liked the fact that Suo chose to go to a delinquent school rather than a proper high school, and he’s never liked the fact that you chose to drop out of your proper high school to go work in the red light district—first at a kyabakura, and now at a girls’ bar. His master, who also happens to be your master, has always told you that this was a natural reaction on his part. Having a secondary school certificate is important, after all. But Suo’s disapproval of your income sources, no matter how politely or subtly phrased, has always felt like it runs deeper than simple concern for your education.

Still, this has never stopped him from visiting you at your place of work, though he only tends to come by under the worst possible circumstances—tonight worse than any other.

When you see the three of them limping through the clamour and heat of the red light district—the neon glow of the street making the blood smeared across Suo’s face shine vibrantly—you entirely forget that you're on the clock. You chuck your sign onto the ground (3000¥ per hour! it reads) as you cut a path toward them, almost tripping in your stiletto heels. Your customer service voice gives way to your regular one, which is so outraged that it startles everyone around you.

“Suo, you motherfucker—are you trying to lose the only eye you have left?!”

Suo is unbothered. His smile is calm and deeply shameless as you approach him. It’s nothing like Nirei, who cringes at the furious look you give him, or Sakura, who looks like a deer caught in headlights when you round on him instead. Like he doesn’t know what to do at the fact that someone is worrying over him, and especially not when that person is wearing an extremely revealing evening gown. For a minute, you think he's going to bolt.

But Suo keeps him there, grip tight on his arm.

“Hi,” he says brightly, like there isn't blood all over his face and shoulder. “Are you busy? We might need to trouble you.”

“Of course I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a shift!” you fume at him. But you still extract Sakura from him, scruffing him by the neck before he can clam up and run. You pull him in the direction of your bar, and gesture for the other two to follow. “Hurry up before my manager sees you.”

Smuggling three delinquents into the washroom of a girls’ bar is not a skill you thought you'd ever need, but it is one that you've become an expert in. This is at least the third time you've done it. The Furin trio rarely ever loses fights, but they occasionally slip up in the part of the red light district that isn't controlled by Roppo-Ichiza. This is somewhat unavoidable, as Keyaki Street is a different beast from Keisei Street. It isn't just delinquents here, but bona fide criminals. “Like, actual fucking Yakuza,” you grouse at Suo for the millionth time. You wipe at the blood remaining on his face—most of it you've already rinsed off, staining the melamine sink with iron—and the paper towel in your hand blooms red.

“But these guys weren't Yakuza,” he says cheerfully.

“They still pulled weapons on you! Bladed weapons!”

“Mm… well, that's true. I'm sorry.”

You scowl at him. “No, you're not.”

“No, I'm not.” He’s still smiling. “In our defense, we didn't have much of a choice. They were about to do something terrible to an innocent person,” he says, and you deflate a little, because you know Suo can't stand to see injustice. This is something you love very dearly about him, and also a quality of his that constantly raises your blood pressure. But then you roll your eyes when he happily adds, “And in my defense, it’s all our Captain’s fault!”

“Oi!” Sakura yells from one of the stalls, where he’s sitting and holding a bag of ice to a knot on his head. “Wasn’t my fault we ended up fighting. They were practically beggin’ to have their asses kicked.”

“You did provoke them, Sakura,” Nirei says. He's in the other stall, trying to stay off his sprained ankle.

“Well, they were dangerous! Not like you wanted to just leave them alone either,” Sakura grumbles, and Nirei apologises, though Suo accurately points out there is no need for him to. After hearing this story, you can't help but agree, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected any differently. After three years at Furin, Sakura is no longer the type to pick fights for no reason. Whatever those guys were up to must have been pretty bad for him to start shit in unfamiliar territory.

Still. The red light district is what it is. Touts, street gangs, and Yakuza are constantly causing problems here, with violence of a scale and nature that Bofurin simply don't see on their own turf. Your street in particular makes someone like Endo look like a joke. “You should still learn to exercise some restraint,” you say to Sakura. “And you”—you give Suo a miserable look—“you know the area. You should have known better. At the very least, you should have called me for backup.”

“But you were on the clock,” Suo points out, and you frown. Despite having absolutely no need, you take out an alcohol wipe and swipe it over his cut. He winces.

“I'm still on the clock now,” you reply, voice dry, “and here you are, distracting me anyway. My boss is going to be on my ass about it if I don't bring in any customers tonight, you know.”

“We can be your customers,” Suo offers.

“You aren't old enough to drink!”

“Neither are you, yet you work here.” His gaze has turned a little sharp. His voice too. You blink, suddenly mollified.

“...okay. If each of you buys a drink after this, I’ll call us even.” Then you glance down at his changshan, which is sliced through, the pearly silk stained red at the shoulder. He’s insisted that the wound is unserious and said that he'd rather clean up his face first, and you're starting to question his priorities. “That is, if you don't have to go to the hospital after this.”

“I don't.”

“I don't know if I believe you.” You pull out some polysporin. “Come closer.”

Suo could do this on his own. His hands aren't incapacitated. But he humours you, as he's always humoured you, and allows you dab his cut with the antibiotic. You feel a little sentimental as you do it, and almost a little sad. Doing this reminds you of when he was a kid who had just started learning martial arts. Granted, he never got any real cuts back then, but sometimes he’d scrape his knees or his elbows or—god forbid—his face, and you would plaster bandaids all over him when he did. But none of those were real injuries.

More than anything, doing this reminds you of when he lost his eye. The state that he was in after the accident. The way his face was bandaged after the surgery. The texture of the gauze against your fingers when you asked to try swapping out the dressings for him.

If Suo notices the way your lip is trembling, he doesn't comment on it.

“You’re so mean—how come you never believe anything I say?” he asks. You press the gauze to his cut with more pressure than necessary, and he blinks. He opens his mouth again, but then the door rattles violently.

“Sorry!” you yell. “Washroom’s closed for cleaning!” You wince as you hear complaints in reply—you’ve been closed for half an hour!—and shoot Suo a sour look as the customer leaves. “I’m really risking it all for you three,” you remark.

“I'll make it up to you,” Suo says. “I'll stick around the whole night and buy as many drinks as you want. Your manager won't be able to hassle you about anything then.”

“No way. You're not wasting that much money on the red light district.” You frown. “Master will kill me if I let you piss away your inheritance like that.”

“I’m not wasting my money on the red light district. I'm wasting it on you.”

“Well, I'm employed at a girls’ bar, so when you waste money on me, you are in fact spending it on the red light district.”

“Then you should quit so I can spend as much money on you as I want.”

“Quit and then live on what income?” You set aside the first aid kit and grab some more paper towel. “Take off your shirt.”

“Oh? Right here? Right now?” His eye goes wide. “How forward.”

Sakura coughs very, very loudly from the stall. If you weren't so used to Suo saying this kind of thing just to mess with you, you'd probably do the same. In fact, you'd probably choke on your spit and die on the spot. But as it is, you only sigh and start unbuttoning Suo’s changshan, starting at the high collar. Any sentimentality or concern you previously felt is quickly drowned out by annoyance.

“Suo.”

“Don’t worry—I don't mind,” he adds. “I thought you'd never ask. I just didn't think it’d happen here. And so suddenly.”

“Don’t do that. I can't do this today.”

“Don’t do what?” he says innocently. He lets you slip his changshan off one shoulder. To your relief, the cut does look very shallow—he’s too quick for anything other than a bullet to land a serious hit on him, you guess—but you still swallow when you see it. It looks like he's bled a lot more than he probably actually has.

Or you hope so, anyway.

“Joke like that,” you reply after a moment. “It's very mean.”

“I’m not joking about anything.” You feel his eye on you as you start dabbing at all the red on his skin, the paper towel in your hands blotting crimson as if with ink. Your breath shakes as you study the wound. He lifts his hand, his knuckle brushing against your cheek. You smack it away, but he doesn't seem bothered. “I was being very serious,” he continues. “Quit working in the red light district and let me support you instead.”

“Suo,” you say, your voice flat, “there is no job you could qualify for on this planet that will let you earn more than what I'm making now. If anything, you should let me support you.”

“Ah,” he says brightly. “I get it now—you want me to be your trophy husband!”

Now you are choking on your spit and you do think you're dying. Sakura sounds like he's not doing much better—something bangs loudly against the washroom stall, and you assume it’s his forehead. Even Nirei is affected, not-so-subtly clearing his throat.

“I do not want you to be my trophy husband.”

“Just a regular husband, then?” he asks. “That’s alright. If I joined the Yakuza, I could make plenty of money. You could even stay at home if you wanted.”

“Suo you motherfucker you are not joining the fucking Yakuza! And I wouldn't be a stay at home wife!”

“Oh? You wouldn't want to be?”

“No, god! Do you know how much I could make if I scored a hostess gig at a high-end place? Why would I ever turn down that kind of money?!”

“Ah, so you want us to be dual income?”

“Of course I would want us to be dual income!”

“You could get a different job and we could still be dual income.”

“There’s no other job that would pay as well.”

Suo sighs, and your brow twitches. You've always been suspicious about why he disapproves of your choice in career. It’s not in his disposition to judge people, but sometimes you still worry that he's doing it to you.

“What,” you ask, “would you be so against marrying a hostess?”

“No, not at all. But I'd be worried if my spouse worked somewhere unsafe. What if you end up at a Yakuza-owned club?”

You pause, startled at the abruptly earnest tone of his voice. Suddenly you feel guilty.

“Oh… well, I wouldn’t work at a Yakuza-owned club.”

“Hm… then I guess it's fine.” Suo nods, as if arriving at a decision. “We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us will work for the Yakuza.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us—” Your eyes go wide as you realize what you're saying. You feel yourself flushing. “Wait.”

“What? Is there a problem?”

“Suo.”

“Don’t tell me you're going to change your mind now. That would just be mean.”

“I'm being mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Well, yes. You don't think it would hurt if you changed your mind about marrying me? And so soon after agreeing, too.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You have a number of possible retorts that cross your mind, and somehow you pick the least relevant one: “You can't trick someone into marrying you.”

“Then can I trick you into dating me?”

“Suo! I said don't do that!”

“Don’t do what?”

“Joke about that kind of thing!”

“I'm not joking about anything.”

“Yes you are? You don't actually want to date me. Stop saying that you do!”

Suo leans in. He stares at you, his gaze distinctly vulpine. It's very attractive, and also intimidating, and you should be used to it by now, but your heart rate ticks up anyway. You swallow thickly as his thumb glides along your cheek again, your skin scorching beneath his fingertips. You forget to bat his hand away this time.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats, voice lilting, “how come you never believe anything I say?”

He's baiting you. He's obviously baiting you, and you consider for a moment whether you want to bite.

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now. His shirt’s stained with such a bright red that it keeps distracting you, just like the blood he's left all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. You think they'd go broke before they could spend enough money here to appease her, were she to discover the four of you. You might even lose your job. Then you wouldn't be able to support yourself anymore, let alone Suo, who cracks jokes as easily about being your trophy husband as he does about being Leonardo DiCaprio.

If he makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry.

“You're not being very gentlemanly right now,” you finally point out. He raises a brow.

“No?”

“No. I'd even say you're being a menace, actually. Doing a very bad job of”—you almost laugh as you say this, because you've heard this speech so many times—“engaging with my feelings. Not being supportive at all. Really falling off the staircase to adulthood, you know.”

Suo studies you. Something complicated passes through his eye before he pulls away, his expression now back to normal. It's deceptive how innocent he looks.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I’ll play nice.”

“No, you won't,” you retort, and Suo smiles at you, not replying. But he does give you a break. You finish cleaning up the cut without incident, although you do get flecks of blood on your evening gown, which you hope won't be too noticeable against the black satin. You bemoan the lost cause of Suo's changshan too—made of Suzhou silk, a gift from your master—and silently make a note to buy him a replacement sometime.

You're in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when the door clicks and swings open. Met face to face with your coworker, you freeze up.

Your stage name leaves her mouth in an angry bark. “What are you doing? I told you you're not supposed to be having sex with customers here, you should be doing that someplace—” She stops, evidently spotting the blood on Suo’s shirt, and then the other two individuals locked up in here with you, one of whom is blushing violently and looks to be on the verge of dying from embarrassment. Beneath your hands, you feel Suo’s body go stiff too.

“Oh,” she says before either of them can comment. “It��s just your delinquent boyfriend and his buddies.” Suo waves at her, and she nods back before squinting at the sink. “Are you going to clean that up?”

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Please don't tell our boss.”

“Have I ever ratted you out?” she asks. “Just get out of here soon. People do have to piss, you know.” Then she stops, looking at Suo with a dubious expression. “And make sure your boyfriend doesn't die.”

You're too tired to correct her on the nature of your relationship. “I've been trying,” you say, and she gives you a sympathetic look before retreating. You hear her laughing with a customer about people fooling around in the washroom, and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, and could you please go downstairs while I clean up. You’re so relieved, you nearly fall to your knees. A calloused hand touches your back as you rub your temples.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Suo says quietly—sincerely—and instead of saying no, you're not, you reply, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Suo’s always hated your job.

He’s always hated your job, your boyfriends, your apartment, and a lot of other things about your life that Sakura doesn’t have any business prying into. And it's just as well. Sakura also hates your shitty job, and your shitty boyfriends, and considering that you live in the same shitty building as him, he isn't a fan of your rental situation either. Nirei’s too polite to say anything about it, but Sakura can tell that he disapproves as well. It’s not like any of them are living the most comfortable lives either—Sakura has personally been living from shithole to shithole, mostly alone, ever since his parents passed—but your lifestyle does make them all feel poorly.

You're just a very easy person to like. And it's very easy to want nice things for you. So Sakura gets it, how Suo feels about you.

What he doesn't quite get is how Suo acts about you.

One thing he’s learned over the years is that Suo is very good at reading people. Sometimes he understands Sakura better than Sakura understands himself, and he can convince Sakura to do things which he himself didn't think were possible for him to do. He's done the same with Nirei, and about half the other people in their grade, and at least a third of the guys in Bofurin. It’s frankly a terrifying skill. But Suo never uses it with you—not to get you to change jobs, or boyfriends, or even apartments.

At first Sakura thought that you were just immune to Suo’s tactics, but he's recently come to realise that Suo simply gets too emotional about you to know how to convince you of anything. He’s even emotional enough to get kind of petty and a little mean with you, which is something that Sakura has only witnessed from Suo during fights. Really bad fights.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, especially when you’re clearly head over heels for Suo.

Sakura doesn't have any business prying into your personal problems. Though truthfully, he’d be happy to thrash some random assholes for you anyway, if that would fix your heartbreak. (He's already done this to at least one of your exes, and it worked shockingly well.) The problem is, Suo is not a random asshole and Sakura isn't sure that you'd want him thrashed in the first place. But it's just fucking painful watching the two of you act like this around each other, so he ends up pulling Suo aside after you kick them out of the girls’ bar, scowling.

Suo looks at him, surprised. “Sakura? What's the matter?”

He doesn't mince words. “How come you were being such a dick to your friend?”

Nirei goes stiff. “Sakura,” he says in his panicked ‘why are you trying to pick a fight now’ voice, “where is this coming from? I don't think Suo was being rude…” But Sakura can tell, as Nirei’s finishing his own sentence, that he's second-guessing himself.

“No,” Suo replies. “I was being a bit terrible, wasn't I?” There’s no humour in either his words or his face, but the corner of his mouth lifts. He actually looks endeared. “I'm surprised you noticed, Sakura.”

“I mean”—Sakura feels himself going red, embarrassed at just the memory of how you looked at Suo; first so worried, then painfully fond, and then like you were going to burst into tears right there in the washroom and ask him to hold you, as if you were in a horrible getsuku drama—“it was kinda hard not to.”

Suo nods. “I suppose it’s natural to be sensitive to the feelings of someone you like.”

Heat floods his face. “I don't like her!”

“Did I say you did?” Suo’s mouth curls when Sakura can't answer. “Don’t be embarrassed. She's a very easy person to like.”

Sakura tries his hardest to ignore Suo—which should be easy, because Suo lies randomly and pointlessly all the time, whenever he thinks it's funny—and says, “If she's an easy person to like, how come you act like you don't like her at all?”

“Was I acting like that? Or was she acting like it was impossible for someone to like her?” Sakura stops. Suo gives him a long look, then smiles. “You would know how difficult it can be to accept being liked, Sakura. And how long it can take to understand that there are people who want to support you unconditionally.”

Sakura opens his mouth once, twice. A third time. Nirei sighs. The two of them watch as Suo—rather than walking in the direction of the subway—steps over to a vending machine and buys a bottle of oolong tea.

“Are you going to wait for her shift to finish?” Nirei asks.

“Mm, I think so.” Suo glances down at his ankle. “But you should go home, Nire-kun. You can’t fight like that. In case those guys come back here, I mean.” He opens the bottle, takes a sip. “They had bladed weapons. It would be bad if you risked it.”

Nirei glances at the entrance to your bar, worried. “But…”

Sakura understands without Nirei finishing his sentence. The security at your bar is terrible, and plenty of people like to exploit that. It was Nirei who noticed a group men eyeing you before anyone else did, following you all the way from Keisei Street to your place of work. And sure, Suo kicked the shit out of them in the end, did much worse to them than vice versa—but who knows if there aren't more of them.

Suo hates your job. All three of them do.

“It’s okay,” Sakura says. “I'm sure the two of us will be enough.”

“...I'll ask Tsubaki if he's free,” Nirei finally relents. “And I'll text Kiryu and Tsugeura too.”

“Thanks, Nire-kun.”

Suo gets a bottle of ramune after Nirei leaves, passes it to Sakura. Tsubaki comes by later, still in his pole outfit, with several pieces of taiyaki for them to share—I’m always snacky after dancing, he explains—and the three of them loiter in front of your bar until four in the morning. Tsubaki asks questions about you in a tone that has Sakura wanting to crawl into an alleyway just to hide, and Suo deflects masterfully with questions about Tsubaki’s new boyfriend. The guys from earlier don't show up. Maybe the sight of Roppo-Ichiza’s top fighter scares them off.

You're surprised to see them there when you emerge a little later. You give Tsubaki a happy but perplexed look as he hugs you.

“Tsubaki? What are you doing here?”

“Keeping these two company,” he replies. “And I wanted to say hi, of course. You should come by the club sometime, you know! I haven't seen you in forever.”

“Sure! That would be nice, but…” You turn to Sakura and Suo, puzzled. “Why are you guys still here?”

Sakura, on instinct, nearly recounts the whole evening to you—about the men tailing you, about how they got into a fight, about the kind of things they said they'd do once they caught you—but Suo answers first.

“Troubling you again,” is all he says. “It’s fine since your shift is over now, right?”

You give the two of them a long, curious look. For a moment, you look worried, but you're eventually disarmed by Suo’s expression.

“I guess it's fine,” you reply. You sound so happy. Suo’s gaze goes soft, and Sakura has to force himself not to look away. “Let's hurry up and go home.”

You smile at them, and it's the kind of smile that makes it very easy to like you. The kind of smile that makes it natural to want nice things for you. The kind of smile that would make anyone emotional, even if they're normally very controlled. It makes something in Sakura squeeze tightly, all knotted up and painful.

He’s starting to understand why Suo acts the way he does around you.

END

this wasn't meant to be a love triangle, my apologies…

this was also meant to be a very short piece (like 500w lol), but I kept thinking about what suo’s backstory might be, and why he was so comfortable in the red light district in the manga, and what these guys might realistically act like in an aged up, romantic context. that all coalesced into this very bizarre fic LOL. I'm not sure how it'll land, but I hope someone out here enjoyed it! I would like to write more about this triangle (+ nirei) but I'm not sure what the level of interest would be, or if it'll even make sense with the manga. I guess we’ll see eventually!

in any case, thank you for reading!! <3

#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #haruka sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #i cannot believe this was 4.5k words...#yueshuo.fics #divider by @/cafekitsune

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mapileonxputellas · 11 months ago

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Beckham II: 2 That Day

Part 2 is here!!!!!

Short one for this part but I think some context is needed before I bring us back to the present day!

Hope you enjoy! Also in this the third place game doesn't exist.

(Part 1 can be found here x)

2nd July 2019, England vs USA, World Cup Semi-final

25th minute – 1 - 1

“This is a real battle out there isn’t it Sue?” Jonathon Pearce broadcasted to the UK, all eyes on the England team trying to defeat the US. Though they had gone behind very early on, an Ellen White leveller had brought them back onto even terms.

“It certainly is, you can see how much this means to all the players out there. None of this England team have ever experienced an occasion like this before but they seem to be carrying that emotion well.”

Out on the field it felt like an out of body experience. Before this the biggest game you’d played in would have to be a substitute appearance in an FA cup final, now you were starting the semi final at a World Cup. You were 19 and felt like the whole world was watching you.

At the start of the tournament you hadn’t been expecting to start but when Jill Scott picked up an injury in the round of 16 you’d stepped into the starting position next to Keira and never looked back. Receiving praise back at home for the level-headed game you played but still managed to bring out that touch of David Beckham in you.

It was a free-kick in the quarter-final that really brought you to the forefront of the nation. A slick ball which soared into the top corner of the net leaving their goalkeeper stranded and left everyone open-mouthed at home. You were never a nobody but now you were here to stay. Your Instagram following doubled and whenever you left the hotel in the past week the camera had never left you. The pressure was on.

“Fucking hell.” You swore coming up to take a corner for England nestled into the corner of the ground flooded with US fans.

“Nepotism trash!” “Daddy not here to hold your hand!” “Can’t even kick a ball!” “Weak!” “Spineless!”

The insults were flying in from every angle, everything was covered in the thirty seconds you had to wait to take the corner, of course your dad was mentioned but so was your appearance in the media. Newly turned 19 and yet it seemed like you were still the five-year-old girl who had her father carry her everywhere. Everyone just presumed you were an innocent little baby who couldn’t put in a tackle, you hated it.

But now was not the time to let that frustration out. Now was game time when nothing else mattered.

Your in-swinging corner found Millie on the edge of the 6-yard box but she couldn’t quite get the connection on it to trouble Naeher, instead giving her an easy catch but you could feel it coming.

The only problem is now there was now a break on. A quick release from the goalkeeper had set Lavelle free, Keira had stayed back but you couldn’t leave her one on one with Morgan in the centre.

You had one second to make a decision.

One second to work out how to stop her. You could try and get further back but you knew you had to stop it at source.

You were known for your pace so you had no trouble getting back to her but Lavelle was known for her trickery and skill.

In your head you made the best decision you could. You followed the rules you played football by and trusted your instinct.

That was where the world as you knew it slowly began to fade away.

“Oh that’s a nasty one from Beckham there and Lavelle seems seriously hurt.”

You thought it was clean, in fact you were sure of it. The contact with the ball was clear sending it flying out of play, you didn’t touch her other than her leg coming into yours as she came over the top of you and yet as she rolled around on the floor it was like the opposite had happened.

Suddenly you were surrounded by players in red, all screaming at you. “What the fuck did you do that for?” “Learn that one from your daddy did you?”

Millie came to stand in front of you, trying to block you from the players as Steph and Lucy surrounded the others at the referee.

“She didn’t touch her.” Millie defended you. “Tell your own player to stop cheating.”

You thought that would be the end of it. Tempers flared, emotions were high and you would get on with the match again. When the referee reached into her pocket you were convinced it was to calm everyone down, a booking usually helped to send a message out but when you saw it was red and it was flashed in your direction it was like time stopped.

“It’s a red card for Beckham, just like her father that name has once again come back to haunt England.” Jonathon commentated. “It’s a long way back for them here.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Go and have a look yourself.” Millie shouted at the ref to overcome the noise in the stadium. “It was a clean tackle, she didn’t touch her.”

“The contact was enough to endanger the opponent. It’s reckless, dangerous and that it is a red card.”

“VAR has got to overturn this.” Sue Smith pointed out. “She’s nowhere near her opponent, it’s not even a yellow card.”

“When you make a challenge like that you bring about a decision from the ref.”

“But that’s what VAR is here for, to show the referee what actually happened. Beckham has arguably been one of the players of the tournament and yet she could be remembered for just this moment.”

It could have been minutes, it must only have been thirty seconds that you stood there. Waiting for some to tell you it had all been a big mistake. Apologies would come and you’d be able to restart the game.

Instead VAR confirmed the red card. You’d been sent off in the most important game you’d ever played in, maybe would ever play in.

This time though it felt like the impact hit you immediately, looking back it was probably the reason you hated showing any emotion now. Your teammates tried to comfort you as the tears started to come but the guilt was already too much, you couldn’t bare to be around anyone right now so pulling your shirt over your face you walked back inside. Every step towards that sideline felt like you were wading through quick sand, the boos from the US side ringing in your ear as you tried to head to the tunnel.

Before the match had begun your brother had FaceTime’d you, at the time you imagined looking up at them at the final whistle, perhaps celebrating with them. Now you couldn’t face looking where you knew they would be sat. The disappointment from yourself was too much to handle right now never mind disappointing your idol, your father.

You can vaguely remember Karen Carney coming out to meet you on the touchline, a kiss being pressed to your head and a little muttering of “keep it together” in your ear. Maybe it was for the best that everyone else was busy trying to reshuffle the pack a few sympathetic faces were thrown your way but you knew football didn’t have time for sentiment. Maybe it was also for the best that Phil didn’t even look your way, your favourite kitman met you to head back into the changing rooms with you but the rest didn’t even bat an eyelid at you.

It was only when you got inside, when you were all alone that the emotion fully came out.

The anger, the pure sadness, the hatred you felt towards yourself. It started that day and it felt then like you’d received a life sentence. A life sentence hating yourself.

……

“Phil, a lot happened out there today. Can you tell us your overriding emotions right now?”

“Oh I’m just proud of every dingle girl out there who competed to the very end. They gave it their all tonight and this result shouldn’t tarnish their pride in themselves or in each other. They stuck in the game when it seemed like other people threw it away.”

“We can’t shy away from Y/N Beckham, what were your thoughts?”

“As football players we know that every tackle we put in can lead to a card and she made that decision. It’s hard because I know the talent is in there but talent can’t be everything.”

“Do you think it should have been a red?”

“Like I said the referee was put in a position where she had to make the decision. We can all wish for different outcomes on the pitch but sometimes we just have to accept them.”

“How is she doing now?”

“As a team we are all very disappointed right and I think it’s the team we should be focusing on right now.”

“Fucking bullshit.” If this was your own bedroom perhaps you would have thrown the remote at the TV, instead you calmly had to just turn it off.

Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to turn on the TV when you got back to the hotel room. England had lost in the end, going 2-1 down to an Alex Morgan winner, they’d given it there everything but it just wasn’t enough.

In the two hours since the game finished you couldn’t count the number of times you’d cried. Firstly on your own, then with some of the girls, then on your own again on the bus and yet not a single word had been said. You knew you’d never be able to say sorry enough times and they knew it was no use telling you anything right now. Though you were crying it was almost as if you were blank inside, you couldn’t take in anything else right now. Your usual spot on the bus next to Keira was left vacant, instead you found a little corner and tried to kid yourself and other that you were asleep when how could you be with all the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Your phone lay switched off on the other side of the room, that interview being the first real insight you’d got into any opinions on the matter. He was right, he might not have said it outright but it was obvious he blamed you. When Phil brought you in for your first senior camp fans were concerned about favouritism but if anything it was the opposite. He had this almost saintly view of your dad and you would never be anything compared to him.

You knew he would be worried, he tried to protect you from everything growing up but now he was powerless. Yet even knowing that you couldn’t bring yourself to switch the phone on, answer any of the messages or calls you’d received before you turned it off on the couch.

It was all too much.

…..

The plan was always for you to spend the 2 weeks you had off after the weekend in the south of France, a quaint villa in the middle of nowhere which you’d had since you were a child. This place was one of the only true places you could just be yourself. You could vividly remember the holidays there once a year being the only time you felt truly free. Your father would spend every second of the day just being a father and your mother could show you her true self, the fun and carefree woman she was away from the pressures of the public eye. This was the place where yourself, Brooklyn and Romeo would spend hours on the beach with a ball and jumpers for goalposts, where you all taught Cruz to ride a bike and Harper to swim. This place meant so much to you.

It felt wrong to tarnish this place with the thoughts you had right now.

That’s why when you touched down in London the following day instead of rushing back to your apartment to pack and meet your family at the airport, you sat, staring at the clock. Time passed, they would have waited for you to arrive and slowly realised you weren’t coming. They would probably be worried and it was for that reason only that you finally turned your phone on. The messages flooded onto your lock screens, dozens of missed calls came through but you ignored them all simply sending a message to your mum claiming you were fine and didn’t want any company right now, only one of those statements being true.

Maybe you should have expected the phone call that immediately came up from your father but they also should have expected your immediate response, decline.

You always thought you were quite strong about the media. You’d grown up with famous parents, you sadly were used to comments about every aspect of yourself from your appearance to the way you spoke. In your time at Chelsea you’d had your fair share of stick from the fans about your place in football but before this you’d proved everyone wrong.

People called you dumb, you passed all your exams and were studying part time for a degree.

People commented on your appearance, your friends and family’s comments opposed that.

United fans taunted you in an FA cup match, you stuck the ball in the top corner and celebrated right in front of them.

All those times you’d known they were wrong and could do something about it. All that media training and yet in that moment you broke the number one rule and opened Twitter.

The results were more horrendous than you ever could have imagined. Not only were there comments about your performance, but they also came for your family, your friends, yourself. The death threats were constant, every other comment on an article link were suggesting this was punishable in unimaginable ways.

Instagram though more concentrated felt worse when you checked a post from your best friend outside of football, comments were left under her post for even just being associated with your name. Taunting her, taunting you and threatening the both of you. Not only had you disappointed everyone but now you were putting those you loved in danger.

Leaving Instagram, blurry eyed and shaking like a leaf, twitter was opened once again. You couldn’t stop and the more articled you read, the more the panic started to set in. People knew where you lived from media pictures, it wouldn’t be long before they came here again. You lived in a gated community but they’d find a way in. You’d never be alone.

Your throat was closing in, it was becoming harder to breath as you panicked more. The only thing you could do was phone the only person who would understand.

“Dad…. dad I need you.”

……

Everyone probably thinks they have the best family but in this moment you knew yours were the best. Thirty minutes on from that phone call you were in your old family living room, curled up in blankets next to your mum and dad, eating homemade chocolate cake and listening to your sister talk you through her week. The biggest drama in which being a girl who took the last apple juice carton and left her with orange juice, which to an eight-year-old felt like the end of the world.

You hadn’t even said another word on that phone call before your dad was ordering you to pack a bag and promised he would be with you in less than ten minutes.

“Why didn’t you go to France?” Your thoughts came out. “We were meant to go.”

“Like we were ever going to leave you here alone,” Your dad chastised you. “I know you well enough to know you might not have needed us in that moment but we were always going to be there when you did.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything, I thought I made the right decision and now people are threatening me. They’re going to find me.”

“They’re not.” Your mother immediately comforted you. “I’ve watched enough football over the years to know tackles like that are made every week and they never get punished. Football is a game, you live for it but it’s a game and people sometimes forget that. You were a big reason England even got to the semi-final and people need to remember that.”

“What did your teammates say?” Brooklyn asked from the next sofa with my other brothers.

“I haven’t spoken to them.”

“What? You flew home with them this morning.”

“I can’t look at them. They’re all sad because of me, everyone knows it, they were always on the back foot because of me and now they’re going home.”

“Millie messaged me this morning.” Brooklyn said. You were of course very close to the Chelsea girls and they’d met your family more times than you could count. You remember they exchanged numbers before you went away on a summer camp one year just in case they needed to contact your family. “She asked me to look after you, they’re not upset.”

“They’ll never admit it, at least not to my face but how can I play with them again after all this.”

“They’re your friends.” Your mum implored and she was right. You were the youngest in the world cup but yourself Leah, Keira and Georgia had formed a little England squad bond. Your sensible and often shy nature balancing out their craziness.

“They’re better off without me. I need to get out of here.”

“Out of where?”

“Out of England, I can’t stay.”

#woso imagines #woso imagine #woso #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #leah williamson imagine #beckham #lionesses x reader

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underthetree845 · 6 months ago

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(dazai osamu birthday post- 2024)

A Taste of Sunlight

Dazai Osamu/gn! Reader (oneshot)

cws: gn! reader (uses of 'bella(donna)') but gender not explicitly stated, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, ada dazai, ada reader, coworkers/friends to lovers, domestic love, domestic fluff, implied mutual pining, mentions of dazai's past suicide attempts, dazai's past spoilers, dazai's dark thoughts, dazai calling himself inhuman and undeserving, baking together, dazai's birthday, reader is dazai's safe space

wc: about 3.7k

summary: how will reader make dazai feel special on his birthday when he doesn't feel like he deserves to?

a/n: this turned out a little darker with dazai's thoughts than I thought it would, but i'm satisfied with how i wrapped things up! i know it's been awhile since i posted my own writing- burnout hit me pretty hard and it's been difficult to get back on my feet, but i knew i had to do something special for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Ceilings, plaster. Can’t someone just make it move faster? Abandoned bottles of sake scattered on the tatami mat floor of his bedroom catch the light of the late morning sun as it creeps in through the curtains he keeps forgetting to close. Or rather, the curtains he can never bother to close on certain nights. He never forgets, not really. The dusty little fan in the corner of his room does little to break up the lingering staleness which hangs in the air. You should really open a window in here Dazai-kun, he heard your voice echo in the basement of his mind, Sunlight and fresh air are good for you. You were probably right. Sunlight and fresh air are good for you, everyone knows that. You somehow always are right about him.

The sun had already found his skin that morning- or rather, the shield of cloth he uses to hide the vast nothingness underneath. The icky, inhuman blackness that he would never allow a creature like you to even brush with your fingertips. For the first time that day since observing the sun come up out his window with hollow eyes and a blank expression, Dazai sat up. Ignoring the slight ache in his head and soreness of his muscles, bandages seeming to be the only thing holding him together, Dazai arose from his futon and silently slumped to his kitchen to down a glass of water. Today was a pointless day. One that shouldn’t have happened at all. Probably one of the worst of Dazai’s life, save for a few particularly nightmarish ones. Nightmares. Maybe he’d wake up, wake up as somebody completely different; or as an old man, and realize that the countertop in front of him and fingers wrapped around the sturdy white mug in his grasp were all really from a time long gone. The mug’s black, dotted on eyes stared back up at him, Dazai’s own brown ones focused, the emotion behind them simply indescribable. Part of Dazai feared waking up too. Something light, something warm, managed to flicker in the cavern of his chest at the memory of the grin that had spread across your lips upon presenting him with the cat mug. A grin you only ever seemed to take on for his eyes. You, he should be ashamed of himself for allowing skin so pure to meet with his own bloody, bandaged hands. Muddled flesh that hardly ever got a taste of the sunlight which always seemed to bathe the surface of your skin. Dazai Osamu had always been a sinner, would it really make his eternal damnation that much worse if he decided to linger in your comforting embrace for a moment longer?

Yes, today never should have happened. The first one so many years ago, and all the years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret that followed. The number taunted him from the calendar Kunikida had insisted he hang up on his wall, your support in the idea being the only reason he had gone through with it at all. 06 19. The nineteenth of June. June 19th. Definitely some sort of horrible mistake by the gods of this universe. If they even existed. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. Most things can be predicted- whether it be by pattern of behavior… calculated likelihood, or something else of the like. Dazai thought- and still did- that it would be tragically poetic if the date of birth and the date of death on a gravestone perfectly matched. Right down to the date of the month. Yes, a perfectly beautiful idea of a gravestone Dazai had tried a handful of times to make his own. He had the scars to prove it. Aside from empty ‘happy birthday’s from the other executives, there were only really two people in the mafia who placed any sort of importance on Dazai’s birthday. None of that mattered now. Of course, in reality, all of it mattered. It was what led him here, to the light which now poured in through the window in the living room of his little apartment. In the almost two years Dazai had been employed at the Armed Detective Agency, he’d had one birthday. He was new enough in the office last year that the prospect of his colleagues doing anything to commemorate the event was not very keen. Such was his hope. He did get a lollipop from Ranpo and a ‘happy birthday’ from Kunikida; the blonde did not get on Dazai’s back over his paperwork for the whole day. That was, until you first stepped foot into the agency a few months into Dazai’s employment. Ironically, in spite of all the warm welcomes you received from his colleagues, the brunette found himself extremely suspicious of you. No one could possibly charm that many detectives with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile. Not just anyone could possibly hold that much warmth in their laughter and still have so much to share. That smile of yours. Dazai had ended many lives for many different reasons, despite having failed at cutting his own short so many times. Rarely did he ever spill blood to protect someone- much less because of some irrational, sentimental attachment. If not for his years in the mafia, it probably would have frightened Dazai to realize how easily he would watch the world burn if it meant that smile of yours would be safe. As it turns out, Dazai wasn’t entirely wrong. You weren’t just anyone- you were Name. You, who he didn’t deserve to even stand anywhere near. Who shouldn’t even bother buying someone like him some cat mug that made you think of him. He never knew he could be so emotionally attached to a piece of ceramic. But that was nothing compared to the way you made his head spin. You would let out a giggle while calling him a flirt for the millionth time. You would share your umbrella with him on a rainy day, circle his birthday in a bright red marker on the little calendar sitting neatly on your desk. The desk right across from his. He’d pretend to not notice the glances you steal because he knows he’s far worse. Buying each other coffee on occasion- usual orders memorized. Experiencing such simple pleasures on a weekly basis- how could anyone have not expected Dazai to fall as hard as he did?

The thing that broke him out of his trance were four soft knocks on the door. The same way you would knock on the wood of his desk to discreetly get his attention. Dazai was about to dismiss the four knocks as a phantom of his imagination before they sounded again, causing him to turn his head and peer at the door as if it had just grown a pair of wings and flown away. Before you could get the chance to knock again or ring his phone, Dazai ran a bandaged hand through his scruffy locks before brightening up his expression slightly and opening the door. And there you were- not unlike the sunlight which flooded in through the entryway, the first thing you did was send prickles of warmth into his skin and allow that smile of yours to glow.

“Ah, Bella! I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Dazai greeted you with a singsong voice, “You’re looking as radiant as ever. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai held his mask up for the whole sixty seconds it took you to reply. In that time, your honeyed eyes scanned over the expanse of his face in a way only you could make so overwhelming. The grin on his lips, though meticulously crafted, failed to meet his eyes. He knew you could tell the moment your irises flickered with an emotion far too deep for Dazai to have the energy to explore. You somehow always were right about him. It didn’t take much longer for you to ask if you could come in for a while, and Dazai accepted as if he’d ever have the strength to refuse. The fabric tote bag clunked with weight as you placed it on his kitchen counter, Dazai trailed behind you as if your torsos were connected by some invisible string. His eyes reminded you of a burnt black cat.

As far as cooking came, Dazai knew how to prepare a few basic things. How to scramble eggs, how to steam rice, how to use the microwave, how to open a can of crabs. It had always been too much of a nuisance to bother with anything more. The cigarettes and sake sustained him well enough. Even so, he found himself peering over your shoulder with dark, curious eyes as you unpacked several ingredients and laid them neatly on the counter.

“My my, did you go shopping for me? How thoughtful,” a small grin played on Dazai’s lips as he held up a tiny bottle of vanilla extract with an inspectful eye. Uncapping the bottle, he took a moment to inhale the scent, goosebumps rising underneath the bandages on the back of his neck at how much it reminded him of your usual shampoo.

“You like cheesecake, right?” you asked, voice a gentle breeze as you tilted your head in his direction. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. He paused momentarily, raising an eyebrow as you cleaned your hands in the sink. How you came to acquire such a fact was beyond him. Your fingers then reached out to preheat the oven, the one he usually didn’t spare so much as a glance. “I’ve only had the chance to taste it a handful of times, but I do have to admit, I’m a fan,” Dazai replied. You were smart enough to bring your own mixing bowls, pans, and stirring utensils. Sometimes he questioned how he ever allowed you to come to know him so well. “If you wanna help me, would you mind washing your hands first, please?” you requested, and Dazai didn’t even wait a moment before turning to the sink.

You did a better job of filling his apartment with warmth and light than the sun ever could. From the way your shoes sat at the front door right next to his own to the way your perfume would linger around after you’d taken your leave. Your fingers would cup over his own as you demonstrated how to properly stir the ingredients together. He would internally curse the persistence of the butterfly in his chest when you commented on how pretty you thought his hands were. You made his sparsely decorated, thin-walled little apartment feel just a little more like a home. Dazai waited patiently with the batter in his arms as you pressed the buttery graham cracker crust firmly into the pan. If the universe were kind, he would have been allowed to stand there and take you in until the end of time. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever deserve to have someone like you in his life. Not the way your eyes softened when they met his, not the way you flushed so beautifully in response to his compliments and praise. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to give you as much as you deserve. He didn’t even come close to deserving the trust you must have had in him that evening on the metro, when you slept on the shoulder of his coat. Both of you missed your stops that day. How could anyone have expected him to have the heart to disturb you? They were the ones who whispered how he didn’t even have one.

Before he knew it, the cake was almost ready to be placed in the oven. Your fingers cupped his own once more as you helped him pour the batter evenly before scraping the last bit out with the blue silicone spatula from your bag. He spun the pan in a circle on the countertop to even the batter as you slipped a pair of well used oven mitts onto your hands. “Looks perfect,” you offered some gentle praise and he felt his heart soften. Once the batter had been slid into the warmth of the oven, you removed the floral print oven mitts from your hands and leaned against the counter with a sigh. Dazai’s eyes were drawn to the way your fingers were delicately folded in front of you, how soft your skin looked and how it might feel against his own. From the gentle curve of your lips to how your eyelashes brushed your cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed… he found himself at a loss. You always somehow seemed to dwindle him to a shadow of his former self, bring out sides of him he didn’t even know he had. Out of all the crimes Dazai had committed in his life, stealing your heart was by far the worst one. He didn’t think he’d be able to give your heart back if he tried, especially when you held his own so easily in the palm of your hand. “Have you had water today?” you voiced, finally turning to bless him with your gaze. “I drank some just before you came, actually,” Dazai replied, eyes briefly flickering over to the now empty cat mug sitting on the counter. “Would you care for something to drink yourself? What might suit your fancy, m’lady?” He cocked his head playfully. Your eyes regarded his thoughtfulness. A look far too fond for someone like him. Especially from someone like you. “Some water might be nice, thank you.” “You know I aim to please,” he nodded slightly, opening the fridge to get his pitcher.

A little while later, a timer went off on your phone, and Dazai tilted his head when you slid the oven mitts back on and set the cheesecake on the stovetop. “Isn’t it a bit too soon, Bella?” he inquired, leaning over your shoulder as you grabbed a little green bowl that had previously been set aside, “The center still looks a bit too mushy, doesn't it?” You hummed slightly, a pleased expression crossing your face. “Look at you, getting more adept at cooking already?” a soft grin played on your lips as you gave him an affectionate pat on his cheek. “I’m learning from the best,” Dazai replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “You’re right, it’s not quite done yet, but I’m adding the topping now so it can cook a little with the cheesecake at the very end,” you explained as you carefully poured the topping on, “It’s usually done this way. Makes it yummier.” It’s wrong, Dazai thinks, to indulge himself in your company like this. There are a million other better ways you could be spending your time. Not taking the time out of your day to come fan a flame already at the end of its wick. Even so, even if a part of Dazai might never allow himself to fully believe what you say when you tell him what kind of person he is in your precious eyes, nothing but being in your arms has ever felt so close to what others might describe as home. Not where he grew up, not his shitty old shipping container or the mattress on its rotting floor. Not any of the places he would lie awake at night hoping to waste away or any of the many bottles of sake that have met his lips. They filled his stomach, flushed his skin, but left his chest cold, barren, empty. “Cherries are in season this time of year you know?” you said, sighing at the scent of the mashed up fruit and sugar bubbling in the pan in front of you. Combined with the warm scent of the cheesecake wafting from the oven, even Dazai, whose appetite usually didn’t amount to much at all, found his mouth beginning to water. “Are they?” he tilted his head with a fond smile, imagining what it might be like to get used to having you in his kitchen more often. What a dream it would be to have coming home mean coming home to you. You looked so perfect in his apartment it almost hurt. Whether you were curled up on the cushions of his couch, cross legged on the floor, or standing in front of the stove pouring some homemade cherry sauce over a freshly made cheesecake, he would take it all. Savor every last bit of the warmth and light with which you filled his apartment. “Why don’t you open a window in here before we start eating?” you suggested, and Dazai let out a breath of resigned amusement. He stood from where he had been leaning against the countertop and strolled over to the living room. “Hm, Bella, don’t people usually eat cheesecake cold?” Dazai wondered, looking back at you for a moment as you grabbed a pair of forks from a drawer. “Yeah, they do,” you replied, placing two equally sized slices of cheesecake onto one of the plates from Dazai’s cabinet. He didn’t have to remind you where they were kept. “But personally I like eating it warm, I always have,” your lips curved up into a smile, “especially when it’s freshly baked. Makes it yummier.” “Huh, well I trust your opinion,” he offered a slight smile, returning to take a seat at the little round table just as the two plates were lowered. The cheesecake looked even more appetizing now that it had been neatly sliced and plated, but nothing made him want to eat it more than the fact that it had been prepared by the loveliest pair of hands he had ever met.

Dazai took notice of the way you held your breath when he took his first bite; you shouldn’t have been so anxious for the approval from the likes of him, yet he found it hard to get himself to care when you looked so downright adorable while doing it. His eyelids slid shut for a brief moment, being sure to completely savor the mouthful before swallowing with a bob of his throat and finally meeting your gaze with his own. “Bella…” Dazai started, hands unmoving, voice lower than usual. You furrowed your brows when you couldn’t decipher his tone. “What is it? Is it okay?” you leaned forward, eyes searching his face for any sort of indication. “Do… do you not like it?” something pulled tight in your chest at the thought, your grip on your fork stiffened slightly, “It’s okay if you don’t, you can say so.” The following heartbeat of silence felt like it stretched on for an eternity. “Bella you’ve ruined me,” he sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat and placing the back of his hand on his forehead in exasperation, “How am I ever supposed to enjoy anyone else’s cheesecake ever again?” His heart nearly melted when you paired a blink with the slightest tilt of your head, he could see the wheels in your mind turning for answers. “So you… do like it?” you spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb whatever strange state of emotion Dazai was using to express his feelings about the cheesecake. “No, my Dear, I’m afraid ‘like’ isn’t nearly a strong enough word, not even close!” he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, “I love it so much, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cheesecake ever again unless you make it for me.” Finally, Dazai gets his reward when a grin splits onto your lips. “Is that so?” you giggle when he cups your hands between his own and nods urgently. That smile of yours. “Absolutely. You’ve doomed me to a pathetic existence,” Dazai pretended to cringe in pain, “forever wandering in search of the joy I once experienced, never knowing if-” “...I’ll do it again,” you said, and his ears perked up. “Hmm? What was that? You’ll do what again?” he raised his eyebrows, satisfied with the flush now evident on your cheeks. “I’ll make you cheesecake for your next birthday, and the one after that, and any time you want some in between,” you smiled sweetly, and Dazai’s heart leapt at your sincerity. “Do you mean it?” his eyes seemed to light up slightly, matching the sparkle in your own. He squeezed your hands.

There was a saying in the Port Mafia. ‘The biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ Whether they called him a demon prodigy or the black wraith or a dog of the mafia really made no difference. When the sun set, they would be the ones quivering at the barrel of his gun as he listened to their pleas with cold, dead eyes. Dazai has been called by many names throughout his life; most, he knew, were well deserved. Even when addressed by his own name, it was usually out of exasperation, irritation, unease, or something else of the like. People spat his name with the bitter bite of a cold rain, and he couldn’t even remember the last time someone uttered his given name very tenderly at all. It was dangerous, Dazai thought, how easily he could see himself growing used to being with you like this. Pathetic, how the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was reduced to a shell of himself the moment you offered so much as a smile. The way you said his name made him seem like something precious; something worthy of getting to see that smile of yours, to have your eyes light up when they meet his.

“Happy birthday, Osamu,” you said, and god your voice had never sounded sweeter. Yes, you’ve ruined him. Absolutely ruined him. Reduced him to a shadow of his former self with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile, and the worst of it all was that you didn’t even know it. You tore away all those layers of bandages, you reached out and touched something Dazai didn’t even know he had. Even as his heart bled, you would cradle it close to your chest, whisper sweet nothings that everything would be alright. Dazai found himself inclined to believe you. Perhaps the reason he seemed to be without a heart for all those years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret, was because it had been with you all along.

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it means a lot- i hope you have a lovely day/night/morning/evening and remember to drink plenty of water! divider credit: (x) (x) tagging: @ringsofsaturnnnn

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miowritings · 7 months ago

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Pjsk boys x gf who is older than them so she treats and calls them her baby? Fem reader plzz alsp hcs plz, tyy <3

Pampering♡

Tsukasa tenma, rui kamishiro, toya aoyagi, akito shinonome x F! Reader(separate)

✮A/N: yayayayayy fantasista gang!! Was gonna post this on tsukasa's birthday but forgot.. so sorry if it looks rushed!! :'(( idk if you wanted me to include len and kaito aswell but you only said pjsk boys and kaito and len arent from pjsk so i decided not to add them..

✮Synopsis: general hc's for the squad🔥🔥

✮Contains: no warnings! May have a few grammatical errors but thats it, fem reader!(Though pronouns arent mentioned)

✮Tsukasa tenma!

-When tsukasa started dating you, he would think that he would be the clingy one, that was a mistake..

-whenever both of you were around, he would often get teased by his friends, but nevertheless, it was funny, as he was a grade lower than yours..

-both of you would get nicknames such as father and mother, cause of how mature you look and how you care for others as if theyre your children, and tsukasa? He cares for his peers as if they were his siblings! A good match if you say so;)

-speaking of nicknames, he loves making you nicknames and so do you! He'd call you my love, darling or honey, you? You love calling him sweetheart, darling too, and babe

-whenever he's practicing his lines for a show, you'd sometimes sneak up on him and hug him from behind, at first he'd be surprised, but eventually getting used to it

-despite you being the oldest in the relationship, he's more reliable than you.. he loves helping you with your studies.. even though you're the oldest, and you love giving him your old notes, occasionally, both of you spend more time at the library

-when cuddling, his favorite position would be him resting on your chest, your taller, so he likes to be the little spoon sometimes.., he'd nuzzle into your chest and would fall asleep then and there

-tsukasa would pout when you kiss anywhere his face except for his lips, its funny how he gets red, expecting you to kiss his lips but i. Reality? You would kiss him everywhere but his lips

-"hey.. are you doing this on purpose..?! I didnt do anything wrong did i..?"

-when visiting his place, saki would be the first one to greet you, hugging you while squealing, oh how she loved to have an older sister!!

-nevertheless, tsukasa likes the way you cling onto him, he feels warm.. back then.. he didnt receive that much attention from his parents as his parents were busy taking of his little sister, so, seeing you shower him with love and affection, makes him feel lucky and proud to have you.

✮Rui kamishiro!

-Rui doesn't mind being pampered by you, heck he loves it!! Sometimes he'll do the pampering but it's mostly just you :3

-Rui may be sly and cunning, but he blushes ALOT when you call him any nicknames such as "baby" or "honey" he'll give you an awkward chuckle accompanied by the blush on his cheeks<3

-Rui doesn't really care about you being older than him, that gives him an excuse to act immature just to tease you!

-His classmates often envy him of having a girlfriend that's older than him, some boys would come up to him and ask "howd you manage to get her?" Or something like that..! Though all he replies are shrugs..

-WILL BRING YOU WHENEVER HE GOES TO THE CINEMA, like, rui's probably 17-18 considering he's a 3rd year, you're probably 18-19?? He'll bring you to the cinema to watch horror movies that are too graphic for the younger audiences

-would sometimes ask you for the lessons you learned during your school year, so that he could learn in advance!

✮Toya aoyagi!

-will definitely look up to you!!

-gives you the biggest amount of respect since youre older than him

-would often ask you for advice since youre older than him, he feels as if he had some kind of strong bond with you, sometimes it would be simple ones, and sometimes its really confusing to the point you search it up

-will blush awkwardly when you call him "baby" or any other lovely nicknames

-WOULD BE EASILY SOFTENED WHEN YOU CUDDLE WITH HIM!! his fave cuddling position would be where his head would rest on his lap, he likes it when you play with his hair TRUST!! He'll easily calm down when you tell him some assuring words while playing his hair<33

-really, REALLY likes it when you pamper him with care and love, do you notice his parents? Sure they're not that good but.. they're somewhat distant? So.. having you close by him is pretty new.. at first he would be easily flustered but eventually, he'd get used to it

-Toya here is very reliable, sometimes the other way around, both of you take turns when helping each other, he's pretty mature so when you act "childish" he'll simply tell you so!

✮Akito shinonome!

-when akito first met you, he would put on his "nice guy persona" time gradually passes by and he put the mask away

-isnt that used to receiving affection.. when you call him baby or pamper him even just a bit, he gets red and would often murmur out something or look away

-has deep respect for you, since your older than him, its obvious he'd treat you much nicer and respectful

-does tease you here and there.. would sometimes tell you your shoes are untied only to find that they werent..

-accepts any forms of gifts you give him... Even if theyre a bit.. cringey.. still he finds it cute

-SUCKS AT STUDYING, will always ask you to teach him, if not, lets you answer his homework

-"hey.. uh y/n? Could you help me out here?" He asks, showing you a math problem he finds difficult

-your older than him so its just like the others, would ask you for advice whenever he's lost

-secretly loves it when you pamper him with affection, sure he may be gruffy or rude to others, but deep down he's very clingy and would get protective of you when something isnt right..

Taglists..

Rui kamishiro: @nogenderbee

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darry-queen · 4 months ago

Text

How much Darry and Soda would make modern day and if it would be enough to pay for at least the three of them: (note this may not be incredibly accurate and while yes I did do research while calculating this shit it wasn't super in depth! feel free to correct me on any and all mistakes you notice and feel free to also give your own opinions!! Much love!)

Starting with Darry's:

Before I get into number this is all assuming that Darry works exclusively the hours allotted to him while missing no work, he'd have a 5 day work week at 40 hours which is standard practice in the United States, except for his part time job which he'd be working 25/h a week (i talk about this more later just continue reading) also I'm not giving them any kind of insurance. Sorry! Lol!

Starting salary of a roofer in Oklahoma is $14/h with the average being around $15/h. Assuming this Darry will be getting around 30k a year. I'm going to be generous and say he works for a good company and has a strong union so I'll give him a end of year bonus as well ($200-$800)

His weekly pay would be around $550-$600

This would be taxed though! Using a taxing calculator (bc I'm not doing all that math babeee) He'd be payed around $500 a week.

Darry also canonically has a second job! Though it is never really talked about, not even mentioned whether it's part or full time. I'm just going to assume, generally, that it is probably a part time job that pays minimum wage. (I'm aware that there are many popular hc's as to what this job is I'm ignoring those lol) now I don't live in Oklahoma but I do have personal experience with working part time and it fucking sucks. They have you working only slightly less then a full time employee so they do not have to give you full benefits. It is an incredibly fucked up and exploitative practice.

Something to note is that Oklahoma allows part time employees to be payed half minimum wage the first 90 days of employment when under the age of 20. I do not think I will include this in the calculation because even though Darry would be 19 at the time of his parents death I think he would be 20 not long after and I do not care enough to look into this law to include it in my calculations! Just wanted to mention it because?? What the fuck Oklahoma?

Anyway, part time would have Darry working 25 hours a week for $7.25/h which would be around $180/week. After taxes he'd make $160/week getting him to $660 a week.

Finally, what everyone was waiting for.... doordash fucking driving baby. Considering he lives in a populated area I am going to be generous and say he manages to get around $20/h from doordash driving. Assuming he does this on the days he doesn't work part time (so the other 15 hours) he'd make a whopping 16k extra a year OMG!!

As for any money he'd earn from the state for guardianship of Pony and Soda: Idk! It's kind of confusing trying to figure out Oklahoma giving shit out for this because fostering and guardianship are two dif things and I'm almost certain Darry would have Guardianship over his siblings, not fostering them. So I'm just not including it: he may have received a check upon first becoming their guardian but since that is a one time thing I'm not going to include it in my final calculations (i know this is kinda contradictory for giving Darry a bonus for his roofing work but IDC IDC IDC IDC I AM NOT PUTTING THAT MUCH EFFORT INTO THIS (NOTE I FILLED OUT A MOCK W2 FORM TO GET A ROUGH ESTIMATE OF WHAT DARRY'S TAX RETURN WOULD BE BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CARE))

All of the above considered: Darry is making $960 a week. Wow!

Now for Sodapop!

Soda I'm just going to copy paste what Darry's theoretical part time job would be because it's almost time for me to go to bed and I couldn't find any special rules for 16< year olds, so he'd be working 25 hours for $7.25 which after taxes is again $160

In total him an Darry combined are making a good healthy $1120 a week on average. Probably more if you consider Darry going insane with doordash/overtime! Overall a good $4480 a month

GREAT NOW TIME FOR EXPENSES!!

Expenses Include:

Mortgage payments

power bill

water bill

natural gas

car payments (maybe)

car insurance (maybe)

fuel

food

phone payments

internet bill

probably more I can't remember off the top of my head

OKAY NOW explaining the maybe's rq

You can just, not pay for car insurance. It's illegal, but when you're poor it's not like you can really care about the legality of certain things. Sometimes, it's eating vs car insurance, y'know? Especially because Darry is only 20, that shit is going to be expensive. And the car was def under his dad's name previously so he also def doesn't have any history. I'mma be generous though and say that he does have CREDIT history, which following my own car insurance premiums: my man is going to be paying like, $400 a month. and trust me, I'm being generous here. This is also for liability only. crazy right? With that considered, if I can not get Darry's salary to work with the rest of his expenses I'm saying he's driving without insurance. Hope you understand.

Now for the car itself, it might be payed off already might not. Again it's almost time for me to go to bed so I"m not willing to double check the book to see if car payments are ever mentioned. If they are I'll come back and fix this another time but for now. I'm not including it.

As for the gas for this theoretical truck? I'm going to put it from $250-$300 a month based off of what Reddit car owners said on how often they have to get gas for their own trucks. Great!

OKAY NOW FOR THE REAL EXPENSES! The average cost of utilities in Oklahoma, Tulsa specifically, is $270 a month for electricity, like $130 a month for natural gas, and for water $100 a month. Now you're probably saying, "Paya, isn't that a little high?" to which I'd say, they have 4 (presumably more) other boys coming around almost everyday. SO I feel it's fine to rate that shit on the higher side of things.

Before I forget: the mortgage payments!

This one is kinda fucked! I have no idea when the Curtis parents bought the house in canon. If it was after, or before Darry was born, etc. Because of this you can kinda just make hc's for this. The reason I say this is because obviously the housing market now is VERY different from the one in the 40s-60s which is when they'd have had to buy the house in cannon. In fact, I'm not even entirely sure they own the house in canon I'm just assuming right now! Like, if you're making a modern au: feel free to say that they're renting! Like who really cares about it? I'll even calculate it here for you so you have a frame of reference: Assuming the house is at least 2 bedrooms 1 bathroom it's gonna be around 1.5k a month. If you want to say they're paying a mortgage though, I'm going to assume based off the little data I could find of average home cost in 2004 (I'm assuming the house was bought around the time of Darry's birth) we're looking at somewhere between 150k-250k. I'm going to low ball it though because I think Oklahoma housing prices are generally cheaper and I'm going to assume they'd go for something affordable over something large. So I'll say 175k! Average interest on a home loan in 2004 was around 6%, with a 20% downpayment Darry will be paying 1k a month for the mortgage. Not that bad!

Phone bill is p cheap around 100$ feel like you may be able to play around with this. Like maybe they're paying for Johnny? Who knows not me I want to go to bed!

Food is like so fucking expensive now tbh. I pay $300 a month on grocery shopping a month for my household. Assuming Darry is purchasing food for himself, his brothers, and a little extra for the gang I'm going to put his grocery bill at around $500 a month. I think I'm lowkey low balling it, but I think he'd be a good bargain shopper. Btw, don't ask if he qualifies for food stamps! Because he doesn't!

internet bill is significantly cheaper going to be around $50 a month, as for services like live streaming and other things, we're gonna say it's all pirated. no one is paying for that shit when you can get it online for free! (Personal hc: Steve is a fucking amazing pirate and can get you literally anything you ask for.)

Final cost of living for my boys, not including school supplies, school/extra curriculars/or clothing: $2400 - $3350

Ending conclusion: If Darry works 80+ hours a week and Soda helps out with his part-time job they have more then enough to pay for almost all living expenses. Tell me where I fucked up! Thanks. Btw according to the shittily done w2 I did for Darry he'd get almost 2k in tax returns; i most def fucked something up but I'mma accept it despite that.

#the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #johnny depp #johnny cade #dallas winston

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bonefall · 8 months ago

Note

I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)

If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.

SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.

BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.

Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.

Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.

I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.

At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course

As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.

Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,

The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.

On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.

I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.

#BB!ASC #Better bones au

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radfemverity · 4 months ago

Text

So I made this meme but then gave it some more thought. I don't in any way want to understate the severity in social pressure that exists for women and girls to conform to hyperfeminine beauty standards, or sexualise themselves. I don't want to be someone who pretends it's so easy to drop beauty standards. For some women, for example those in poverty, with jobs where they face punishment for noncompliance (I've heard instances of waitresses being told off by their senior managers for not wearing. makeup and heels), and they don't want to risk being unable to pay the bills at the end of the month, it is not simple, at least not in their present situation.

However, this isn't about them. This is about the self-admittedly miserable women white collar office staff, minimum wage fast food staff, housewives, etc, who have created an entire genre of TikToks and Instagram reels where they make comedy out of their own misery by conforming to beauty standards.

The beautician who gloats that she cannot keep up with the beauty standards of her own job, and the industry she upholds, such as being hairless utterly everywhere, all day everyday, even though pubic hair grows back and becomes visible within 24 hours of shaving yet remains too short to remove.

The college student who laughs about how waking up at 6AM to put on a full face of makeup, in the baddie Instaglam style that she would pass as a Kardashian in, but it's worth the sleep deprivation because god forbid a 19 year old woman leave the house bare faced.

The family vlogger and housewife who complains that shaving her body from head to toe while standing up in the shower for 45 minutes makes her dizzy and faint, yet she does it three times a week.

The 30 year old social media influencer who thinks she's getting old, and makes jokes out of how painful her quarterly botox is and how it causes her migraines, but copes with ‘well beauty hurts. Nothing in life is worth doing if it's easy! No pain, no gain!’

There is only so far you can go with this, and only so much you can participate in the mass-grooming campaign to coach other women and girls into this extreme beauty culture, before you're no longer just a victim but also a perpetrator.

There are 14 year old girls who now want breast implants, liposuction, buccal fat removal, jawline reconstruction and hip injections. There are 11 year olds who use Al to beautify their faces on TikTok so they look like a Bratz Doll with Kylie Jenner's fish lips. There are 20-35 year old women who worry they're ‘past it’ because the women they follow on Instagram are promoting botox to them, when they're only 20-35 themselves.

There are women of colour so insecure about their natural nose shapes that they're convinced by rhinoplasty specialists with TikToks and Instagrams to spend thousands on ridding themselves of the curved, wider noses that were passed down to them by their ancestors, and replace it with the same tiny button nose that every other rhinoplasty customer gets.

That NPC meme is about the women who have become keen participants in the patriarchal norms of making other younger women feel like they cannot leave the house in their natural state, echoing the unspoken sentiment that older women are worthless, and - worst of all - they're making out like misogynistic beauty standards are this unavoidable chore that all those born female must go through - that it is an inevitable part of womanhood that we should all get together, bond over, and laugh about… without proposing any actual viable solutions.

And if any women proposes viable solutions, such as decentering the male gaze, collectivising, or valuing our intellect over our looks, we get chastised with the common vacuous choice liberalism of ‘wow you're being so judgmental/mean/intolerant', 'you're invalidating my choice', ‘but why does the way I live my life affect you?' and 'what happened to women supporting women?'

And then five minutes later... ‘God it’s so hard being a woman. To have to shave daily and alter our bodies to appease society.‘

Well no, actually, no that is not some sort of inevitable part of womanhood.

And the women further normalising, making comedy out of, and stigmatising noncompliance to what they themselves literally acknowledge is a miserable existence, need to be held to account. Womanhood is not a social club where we all trauma bond over the ‘inevitability’ of moulding ourselves into beauty dolls.

#radfems #radical feminism #radfems interact #radfem #feminism #womens rights are human rights #beauty #beauty standards #makeup #hyper feminine #divine feminine #feminine beauty #smash the patriarchy #fuck the patriarchy

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chiharuhashibira · 1 year ago

Text

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student

So, in this version, Giyu's still your PE professor at your university and the old Guidance Counsellor at your old school when you're still in high school.

So a little history too but also different 🤭 Y/N is around 19-21-ish? and Giyu is around 28-30.

Note: W/N=wrong name

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑷𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚��𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Spanking/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit

Minors DNI.

(Image is not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

🌸𝑮𝒊𝒚𝒖 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒌𝒂🌸

You were faced with an intense volleyball competition against the other second-year college students. Shinobu Kocho is really fast, and you can't help but groan whenever she manages to spike the ball. The girl is your friend, but the fact that she is more skilled at sports than you is irritating. Which eventually gets her noticed by your crush...

Giyu Tomioka.

But he's not just a simple crush. You've been smitten with him since you were still a student at the school where he was the guidance counsellor. Yep! You liked him ever since you first laid eyes on him, and since then, you have been doing everything to get his attention.

Detention is just one of the long lists of things that you endured back in high school just to meet him face-to-face. There is a lot more that eventually marked you as one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke Hashibira.

Yep, a bad record just to see Giyu.

And when you went to college, it was also the time that Giyu resigned from his old position at the school. The man is not close to you because you have always irritated him, but he was not as harsh with you as he is with Inosuke. As if fate were on your side, Giyu Tomioka became your PE professor in college.

While reminiscing, you felt a sudden pain on your face, and there, your sight suddenly went dark.

"Where am I?"

That's the first thing that you muttered when you opened your eyes. You looked around and met the most enigmatic blue eyes that you had ever seen. Your heart started beating fast as you watched how fixated Tomioka's eyes were. He tilted his head to the side, and without an obvious expression, he asked, "Are you okay now?"

You loved the feeling that even just his stare could give you. And the fact that you're alone in this room with him makes you so happy. You were about to speak when suddenly the door busted open, and there, Inosuke ran towards your side.

"Oi Shiru-sensei! What happened to my W/N-chan?"

"Your voice, Hashibira-kun. She just woke up."

"But what happened? Are you okay, W/N-chan?"

You wanted to strangle the fuck out of your best friend for ruining the moment where you had finally locked eyes with Giyu. That's once in a lifetime, for crying out loud, and Inosuke knows that you've liked the PE professor for so long, and yes, surprisingly, Inosuke's good at hiding secrets.

"Inosuke... I'm okay... But what happened, Tomioka-san?"

"Kocho accidentally hit your face with the ball. You weren't doing well earlier. It's your fault."

Ouch. Harsh. But yes, Giyu has always been too harsh with his words, so it is a surprise to see that he is the one who is looking after you at the clinic now. You frowned and looked up at Inosuke, who was pouting at Giyu. He looks mad.

"Miyoka-sensei! W/N-chan is great at sports! It's just that you favour Morobu-chan so much!"

You turned red when Inosuke said those words to Giyu, who seemed unaffected by them. If Inosuke did that to other professors, he would be expelled by now, but then, it's Giyu that we're talking about. And yes, the man's desensitised to both of your craziness, to the point that he just shoves them off.

Tomioka stood from his seat and looked at you with emptiness in his eyes, as usual. "See you at next week's class. And you, Hashibira-kun! Button up your goddamn shirt!"

Giyu finally left the clinic, leaving you with your best friend, who was still glaring at the door. You threw your pillow at Inosuke, and that astounded the hell out of him. Inosuke looked back at you and pouted while rubbing his face, as if he were hurt, even if the pillow was soft as heck.

"What was that for, W/N-chan?"

"Idiot as always... You entered the room at the wrong time. He was staring at me, and our eyes locked with each other. But you ruined it, boar-head."

"Oh..." Inosuke picked his nose while watching you sulk on the bed. Then his eyes suddenly shone, and you knew too well that when he does that, he has a crazy idea.

"I have an idea!"

"Pray do tell, my henchman."

"Pfft!" He rolled his eyes at you but still sat beside you. "What if I hit your face hard with a ball so you'll collapse again? Maybe Moyoka-sensei would help you—"

"What if I hit your face with that chair right now, Inosuke? You're insane as always."

"But I am serious!"

And that day ended up with Inosuke pitching you his mundane ideas just for you to get Tomioka's attention again. Yes, you listened, but in the back of your head, you can't stop thinking about Giyu's stare.

You realised that being bad doesn't benefit you, especially with a by-the-book professor like Giyu. You felt like if you became better at sports than before, Tomioka would notice you like he notices his star student, Shinobu. You can't help but feel envious whenever she casually converses with Tomioka and he responds with a nod of his head.

Oh well, it's kind of your fault for choosing the path as a delinquent kid back then. Of course, Tomioka won't ever be fond of you because of that impression.

Another PE day has ended with you just watching how Shinobu gave Giyu a high five when their team won over yours again. You sighed and frowned at the sight, but then finally managed to breathe properly when Shinobu left the gym.

You decided to stay because perhaps helping Giyu clean up might make a good impression. You stood up from the bench where you're sitting, and that surprised Tomioka, as he never sees you staying in this shithole, which was also your school gym.

He sauntered towards you, wiping the sweat from his face. Gosh, at that moment, you felt like all the muscles in your body had tensed up. He looked so handsome with his hair tied. You composed yourself and walked towards him, fixing your shirt as you felt conscious.

"Why are you still here, menace?"

"Bad sensei. I'm not like who I was back in high school." You muttered, stopping in your tracks, which made him raise an eyebrow and cross his arms. His eyes were fixed on you again, and you loved it.

"Then why are you here?"

"Sensei... I just want to say sorry for being a pain in the ass back in high school."

Giyu didn't reply that quickly and just tapped his fingers on his arm. He tilted his head once again. "Okay. Be a great girl, then. And for the hundredth time. Follow the rules."

You nodded. Giyu turned his back on you, picking up the volleyball. "You need help, Sen—"

He suddenly tossed it to you, and as if on reflex, you spiked the ball back to him, which made a small smile appear on his lips. That astounded you and eventually made you smile as well. Yes, you have seen him smile before, but now what makes you happy is that it's because of you.

"Good pass, Y/L/N-san. Want to try again?" He asked with a calm tone, different from his emotionless one. You immediately nodded, and then he served the ball so perfectly that it almost stunned you. But no, you composed yourself and jumped to hit the ball back at him.

And that sequence of serving and hitting lasted for a few more seconds. Giyu's movements flows like the water but of course, you started adapting to it. Yet, you started feeling tired, until... score! With a last spike, you managed to win! You jumped and squealed in joy as you managed to score against your professor.

Tomioka smiled and finally went in front of you. He patted your head, and that made your world stop. You know that there's no romance in his gesture, but still, you can't help but be flustered.

"Few more practices, and you'll be better than Kocho."

"Would you help me, sensei?" You asked boldly, making Giyu surprised. He took his hand away from your hand, and you felt like cold air suddenly embraced you in the absence of his touch.

You waited for an answer, but all you got was a shrug, and that made you annoyed. But you wanted to be a good girl in front of Tomioka's eyes, so you just decided to speak again. "I promise I'll help you clean up after class."

"Great deal then." He said this, tossing the ball back to you. "You can start today. Just put it back in the storage room."

So weeks passed with Tomioka training you after class. But of course, both of you make sure that every student has already left before doing so. You felt happy that Giyu managed to go out of his way to help you become better.

It's as if he had enrolled you in a special class that was just perfectly curated for you, as you weren't just learning; you were also spending time with him, which would always make your heart swell. And yes, everything's decent as you know how Tomioka lives by the rules.

But you never expected that things would change today.

While taking a break from your after-class training, you felt a cold thing press on your cheek. Surprised, you looked up and saw Giyu pressing a pop can on your cheek, which immediately made you blush. You took it from his hands, and when your skin brushed against his, shivers ran up your spine.

He sat beside you, stretching his back and wiping his sweat with his towel. You realised that you had forgotten yours, so you stayed sweaty as you rested. Giyu seemed to notice this, so he raised an eyebrow at you and said, "You're so sweaty. Why don't you change and go home early today? Where's your towel?"

"I left it. Sorry."

He handed you his towel and sighed. "Beggars can't be choosers. Use this. Don't worry, I don't smell bad."

You smiled at what he said, but internally, you were screaming. You took his towel and wiped your neck with it, and yes, Giyu definitely smells like apple and ocean. It's like what you imagined. You turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were still fixated on you. He gulped and looked away immediately after you caught his stare.

What was that?

Giyu cleared his throat and stood up. "Uhh, do you want me to open the pop can for you?" He offered so, you nodded and gave him the can. With a few movements of his hands, he gave it back to you, opening it with ease.

You wondered why Giyu suddenly became soft. You noticed this change on the third week of practicing with him. He stopped making harsh comments on your movements; he even clapped once when you scored against Shinobu. Sometimes, you'll find him looking at you at break times. And just like now, he would quickly avert his gaze from you whenever you caught him.

"Tomioka-san, thank you." You said that before drinking the pop. Your eyes lingered on Giyu, who seemed to try his best to look away. There's a weird tension that he creates right now that wasn't present in your old practices.

"Welcome." he said in a low tone of voice.

But before you could speak, Tomioka suddenly spoke up. "Why do you always cling to me, Y/L/N-san?"

"What do you mean?" His sudden question left you perplexed.

"I've been your guidance counsellor for two years. And now, I've been your professor for almost two years too. You think I won't notice how you tried to get my attention for those four years? Think again. So, now tell me why you would do so?"

You shivered, but it wasn't because of fear. The mere thought of him noticing those things you did for him since then made you flustered. A part of you wished that Tomioka was thinking of you before he went to sleep, wondering why, because at least with that, you managed to get the attention that you have longed for so long.

You shifted in your seat and gripped his towel. "Sensei, it's not like—"

"So you're saying that you're just weird, then? People avoid me, Y/L/N-san. But you kept bugging me despite my cold shoulder."

"It's just... I feel comfortable with you."

"But why?" You won't know, but Tomioka was perplexed at himself too. The sudden eagerness to know about the reason behind others actions towards him was new to him. You sighed deeply and stood up from your seat, closing your eyes before doing the most insane thing that you'll do in your life.

But before you could almost speak, a sudden jolt of pain hit your calf, which made you almost scream. "Oh fuck..." You said this, biting your hand as tears welled up in your eyes. Fucking cramps...

For a moment, he thought that you were just being dramatic to avoid the question, but when he saw you literally almost crying with the pain, Tomioka suddenly jogged near you and crouched down. He tried to stretch your leg, which made you swear at him out loud.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop Tom—ouch! No!"

Giyu sighed but still stretched your leg, slowly massaging the back of it with his other hand.

"Idiot. If we don't stretch it, the cramps will be worse."

And it's true—it felt better this time. You looked at Giyu, who was crouched down, massaging you. You wiped your tears with his towel and enjoyed the sensation of his hands against your skin. Yes, it's non-romantic. You reminded yourself for the nth time, but that didn't stop your breathing from changing as your heart started beating fast.

The pain went away, but his hands are still massaging you. You didn't stop him, though. You want this moment to last for a few seconds because you know that it won't happen again.

Giyu suddenly looked up at you, his eyes still empty as always. But for some reason, it seems darker than usual. "Why do you feel comfortable with me? I'm not a good person."

You wondered why he said those words, but you remained silent. What he's doing now is different from what he's saying. If he's a bad person, why would he spend time training you after his class? If he's not really the way you see him, why would he try his best to correct your mistakes and make sure that you're okay?

Giyu felt his muscles relax, and so he stood up and stretched his back. "Fine. If you don't want to answer, then okay. It's not my business anyway." He tried his best to sound professional, but a hint of annoyance still escaped his voice.

"Thank you, Tomioka-sensei." You thanked him for helping you, but without telling him, you also wanted to badly thank him for dropping the subject, as you knew you'd end up confessing if he kept on asking.

"Mmm..."

Giyu started walking away, which also meant that your training was over. But then he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you again. "And for your and your boyfriend's information, I wasn't favouring Shinobu. She's just good at sports. And so you are right now. So perhaps I'll be less harsh on you at class."

"Boyfriend?"

"Hashibira-kun's your boyfriend, right?"He was astounded by your reaction. Yes. Tomioka had always thought that Inosuke was your boyfriend, as you were always with him. He has no idea that the guy's just like your brother, and he actually has a girlfriend of his own.

You can't help but laugh at what he said, which bothered him, so he sauntered back to you with a clear, confused expression plastered on his face.

"Why? Do I sound funny?"

"No! It's quite hilarious that you believed Inosuke to be my boyfriend! He's taken already; what the heck?"

You noticed the littlest changes in Tomioka's expression, like how the tension on his shoulders faded and how his breathing pattern changed.

Giyu stared at you as if he were solving a puzzle. But still, he stopped himself from asking too much. "Whatever. Go home early." He said and finally went out, with a small smile on his lips.

You slept like a baby that night as you reflected on how adorable Giyu had been that day.

But on the other hand, Tomioka was sitting on his bed, wondering what just happened. He was questioning himself all day after he left you.

Yes, he was thinking of you, and he can't fathom why these thoughts started to plague him. And it worsened today as he felt a bit relieved to know that Inosuke's not your boyfriend. He hated to admit it, but he was quite happy to know that.

"I'm failing as a professor. Why would it drive me crazy if she's with Inosuke? I never wanted to be with her. I never even imagined myself wanting that for my student. But damn, why am I thinking about all these things?"

Giyu rubbed his face with his palms intensely and plopped back on his bed. He cannot fathom why, but sometimes he just wants to hoard you for himself. Yes, it's clear to him that it's against the principles he is living for, but he just can't stop it.

It started the day he carried you to the clinic bed. And of course, he won't tell you that he was the one who carried you. He would also hide the fact that he had scolded Shinobu that same day, after he left you and Inosuke.

That moment was the first time he really looked at you and seen how beautiful you are. That's also the first time that he realised that it seemed like you were doing everything just to get his attention. Before by being delinquent, and now by trying your best to be his star student.

He somehow appreciated it.

Earlier, when you had cramps and he massaged you, he would never admit it, but the sounds you make create a whirlpool of insane thoughts inside his head. Giyu shook his head and heaved a sigh.

Now he can't stop thinking about what would happen if you weren't his student. Would he still feel this way? Yes. He will.

I never really wanted this to happen, but I think I'm falling. What should I do?

A few days had passed, and yes, Giyu still decided to train you after his classes. You'll never notice how hard he tries to compose himself whenever he sees you. But today, he can't keep it any longer.

There's no PE class today, so you headed straight out of the university. While walking home, a car suddenly stopped. You turned to look at who it was, and it was Tomioka. He was gesturing for you to come in, and of course, you did without thinking ten times. Tomioka drove once again, wishing that no one had seen you come inside his car.

You sat beside him, adjusting your skirt. "Tomioka-san, thanks for the ride!"

"Mmm, of course."

"What made you drive me—"

"Don't think about it too much."

You nodded and just stared at him, watching how focused he was. The silence started to thicken, and to your astonishment, it was Tomioka who broke it this time.

"Have you ever done something that was against your virtues?"

"Wow, that's a deep question, sensei. But I'm not quite sure what you mean. As you can see, I was once one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke, Gyutaro, and Ume before college. So I guess, yes?"

"I know you've been annoying before. But I mean now."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Nevermind—"

"Elaborate please."

"Uh... I can't put it into words."

"How can I answer if I don't know the context?"

"Okay, um, something like this."

"Like what?"

"Me asking you to ride in my car."

You crossed your arms and bit your lip. Now you're interested. "I don't interpret this in a bad way, sensei. And I think it leans more towards you being a gentleman."

"Oh, aren't you scared that I might take you somewhere?"

His question astounded you. What is he saying? You gulped and placed the bag on your thighs, looking at him with the same expression. But inside, you realised yes. He doesn't know where you live in the first place. "Nope. You're not a bad person. You're my sensei so I trust you." That seemingly irritated Tomioka.

"You don't get the point, but you also do."

"Then tell me!" You said, raising a voice at your own professor as you hated riddles. But then his next words took your breath away. "I like you, Y/N."

You feel like you've lost the ability to talk. Your eyes brightened as you saw Giyu's face flush at the sound of those words. You could have never foreseen him making such a confession to you.

Perhaps he suddenly realised the weight of the thing that he just did. He suddenly stopped the car and hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Fuck! I shouldn't have told you that." He looked up at you with eyes that almost told you how much he feared what you would do.

"I mean, I-I... Fuck, I look like a fucking creep. I don't fucking deserve to be your sensei. I'm sorry, but can we just forget about this?"

"I've been waiting for you to fall for me." Those words suddenly made every bit of fear in Tomioka collapse. He was afraid to lose everything just because of his recklessness, but then, when he heard you say that, everything just brightened.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in love with you Tomioka-sensei. So I don't want you to tell me to forget about this because you'll definitely hurt me."

"Y/N." Tomioka called you by your first name and suddenly had the courage to hold your hand.

"Are you serious, Y/N?"

You didn't speak but just leaned in to kiss your PE professor, which certainly caught him off-guard. But then he pulled out his eyes, now drunk with passion, and caressed your face. "What should we do?" He asked as if he were a lost child, even if he was older than you.

"Hide this? No one needs to know Tomioka-sensei."

"Wouldn't you tell this to your friends? What if you're just pranking me?"

"I would never do that." You said this while holding his hand and letting him feel your rhythmic heart through your clothing. When Tomioka put his hand on your chest, he flushed a little bit, but he was relieved to feel the same rhythm coming from both of your hearts.

Nothing had changed between you and Giyu at school. Of course, nothing should change, or else everything will be obvious. But when the classes are over, he will try his best to show you how sweet he is. And when we say sweet and classes are over, it's outside school, as he will die first before making a move on you while also being at his job.

Ironic, isn't it?

Now, you were with him as both of you decided to spend the weekend at his house near a river. Giyu was shy when he first asked you out, but eventually, here you are, cuddling up with your PE professor, a.k.a., boyfriend.

Except for kisses, Giyu has not yet made a move on you. A part of him still can't believe that he's having a secret relationship with his student, despite how obedient he is to the rules.

You were cuddling with him, making the most of every second. As you know, on Monday, he'll be your professor, and you'll just be his student again, at least in class. You felt a sensation when you felt Giyu's hand slide down onto your waist. But the man thought that you were uncomfortable, so he pulled his hand away.

"Sorry."

"Why? I want your touch."

Touch? He was surprised by what you said. You repeated it as you sat over his lap, facing him. "Touch me, Giyu." The sudden emotion that had taken over you shocked even you. But then, with that, Giyu suddenly smashed his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily. His hands went inside your shirt, and each touch made you whimper in pleasure.

Giyu pulled out and told you to turn your back on him, so you did. A part of him is shy about what he is doing, but he can't just stop himself, so he'll just prefer you looking away instead. His hands suddenly caressed your thighs, lifting your skirt in the process. You felt him getting hard beneath you, which definitely made your dam break.

He rested his chin on the crook of your neck and whispered in your ear with a low, sexy voice. "Do you want more?"

"Mmm yes, Giyu." You said, moaning as his hands slowly stroked your clothed cunt.

"So wet for me, Y/N. You want this?"

"Yes Giyu~ Ahhh~"

"You want to do risky things, right? You've been a very naughty girl. I'm gonna teach you something better than PE." He suddenly lifted you and bent you over by the table. His left hand caressed your breast while he used his right hand to take off your underwear and his pants.

Tomioka spanked you, which definitely made you moan loudly. He chuckled and went near your ear again, grinding his hot, hard cock on your ass.

Hands grasping the table, you moved your hips, wanting him to be inside of you. "Giyu... I-I've never let anyone touch me this... ah~ way since I fell in love with... you." Giyu chuckled and kissed you behind your ear. "Good girl. Let me reward you then."

You felt him line his cock on your entrance, and finally, with mixed pleasure and pain, he managed to enter you, making you scream in passion. "Ahh~ You're so tight. Is this your first time?" He whispered again, and you nodded with tears welling up in your eyes.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll be better. I'll be gentle."

For someone who seemed cold at the university, Giyu was definitely sweet and caring behind closed doors. He slowly thrust himself into you, both of you moaning in pleasure. As he stated, after a few more slides into and out of your tight cunt, it felt great.

Giyu wrapped his arms around your waist, and slowly his thrusts became faster. You grabbed both sides of the table as he gave you a vigorous fuck. Your head was spinning in satisfaction with his motions.

He's your PE professor, and no wonder how graceful the bucking of his hips felt. The slapping of your skin, mixed with your lewd sounds, made you so wet that it dripped down on your leg as Giyu hit your g-spot repeatedly. "Yes! Yes there!"

But then the man suddenly stopped and turned you to face him. You saw how dark his eyes were with lust, and you loved it. He laid you down on the table and ravaged your lips with his hungry kisses as he ripped your shirt, revealing your wonderful tits to him. He kissed them down as he once again aligned his hard cock on your pussy.

He didn't go slow this time. With his nails digging into your waist, Giyu went in and out of you as if there was no tomorrow. You never expected that the decent, by-the-book professor would be this wild in bed, and that turned you on so much that you just wanted to cum.

And yes, as Giyu's lustful eyes watched you and your breast jiggled with each of his movements, you suddenly felt tingles all over your body, especially on the pit of your stomach. "Uh...haah~ Giyu! I'm going cum!"

That made Giyu smirk, and with his right thumb, he rubbed your clit as he fucked you harder, making you almost pass out from the overstimulation. You loved it. You felt like you were in heaven as you reached your first orgasm. Your eyes rolled, and you moaned so hard as you squirted against his cock. But yes, Giyu didn't stop fucking you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful!" He muttered between his moans.

Suddenly he felt like he was about to cum too, and so he smashed his lips against yours, and his movements went faster and harder than you could imagine. You were literally moaning in his mouth as your first orgasm came. Then, now, you can already feel your second orgasm after just a minute of having your first one.

"Fuck baby, I can't take it anymore!" Giyu said, and finally, with a final thrust, both of you came, his warmth filling your already dripping cunt to the brim.

Giyu planted sloppy kisses on your lips, which you returned, causing him to hum with contentment. Without pulling out, he carried you to the bedroom and laid you on the bed.

There, he finally pulled out but still wrapped his arms around you. "You'll never know how I tried my best to stop myself from making love to you at the uni."

"Me too, Tomioka-sensei."

"Hey, I told you not to call me that when it's just us." He pouted, but then you kissed his nose. "Giyu, my Giyu." Tomioka caressed your cheek and kissed you once again. "Did you plan all of this to happen?" he asked innocently, making you chuckle.

"What I planned was just to get your attention. But I've got something better, I guess." You said that, kissing his cheek. Giyu stared into your eyes and smiled. "You know, I never wanted to feel this way towards you before, but you convinced me to still do it anyway."

"And how did I do that?"

"By trying your best this time and not being the idiot you were before in high school."

You wanted to tease him more, but you just rested your head on his chest. "I just always wanted to get your attention. I love you, Giyu."

"I love you too." He muttered in a sleepy tone as he embraced you tight. Both of you are wishing this weekend wouldn't ever end.

𝑨𝒂𝒂𝒌𝒌! 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕~

I enjoyed writing this that it took me THREE EFFIN DAYS XD But yeah, that was hot! 🥵 Giyu breaking his by-the-book attitude is so cute XD Risqueee babyyy hahaha!

Anyways, OF COURSE! The most awaited Sanemi chapter will be next and I can't wait for it as well hahaha!

Reblogs, Comments, and Requests are highly appreciated! Love you!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

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pedripics · 4 months ago

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Pedri: ‘I wrote to Dani Olmo to come to Barcelona, I wanted to play with him’.

(El Mundo - September 3, 2024)

A smile comes as easily as an assist when he is on the pitch. Even a touch of fine irony sweetened by the Canarian accent. Football has shown Pedri (Tegueste, 2002) its happy face, but also its bitter one in the form of injuries, doubts and malicious criticism. That, on occasions, has made him change his expression and hide the boy who enjoys playing on the beaches of Tenerife, always close to a sea that feeds him.

De la Fuente says you are insatiable, is the dressing room like that?

"Yes, we have talked about it in recent days. We have won the European Championship, but that is over and now we have to go and win the Nations League again."

From the World Cup until practically the Euro you were not with the national team, did you notice any changes?

"Football is usually the same, although it's true that each coach has his own rules. I noticed little change in the group. We still all go together and the rest is left out."

Now there is Nico or Lamine to brighten up the dressing room.

"With them we'll have fun for a while…" [Laughs]

Are they a lot of trouble?

"Some of them are. Ferri [Ferran Torres] gives me a lot, but I put up with it."

What should this team not lose?

"Above all, that fun, because when you have it off the field, it shows on it too."

Does the Canary gene provide tranquility?

[Laughs] "Yes, now there are three of us in the team [Ayoze and Pino] and it is clear that we are more relaxed than the rest."

They also bring a different touch, is that at risk of being lost?

"Maybe a little. Canarian football is about magic, about inventing things, about having fun on the pitch... And it's true that it's being lost because now everything is more robotic and physical."

Morata spoke about the lack of respect towards the players; Raphinha has confessed that he has cried a lot, has Pedri felt unfairly treated?

"Many times people have said things that are not true and that affects you. But, at the end of the day, when you are a professional footballer you know that you are in the spotlight and that people are going to talk about you."

Can you forget about that, do you work to manage it?

"In my case, I am a calm person, but there are people who have a very bad time and have to turn to professionals. You have to reinforce yourself in your family and in the things that make you happy in order to forget what people say."

When you were 19 years old, everything was praise and awards, did you understand when they became criticisms?

"My family warned me that it could happen at any moment. Nobody is prepared for criticism, but I dealt with it well because of my family's advice. It's true that there were things I didn't like because they were lies. They didn't tell the truth and that hurts. But you have to know how to be calm."

Years ago you said you were ashamed to become a star, have you lost that shame?

"When sometimes people recognise me in the street, I still feel a bit embarrassed and I don't know how to act. Day by day you get used to it and it goes away."

Is that what makes Pedri seem a bit distant at times?

"I'm not aloof, but sometimes I get embarrassed because I'm a little shy at first and it shows."

You confessed that you didn't want to be like other footballers, I don't know if that's advice you give to all your young team-mates who join Barça or the national team.

"I tell them to be themselves on the pitch, that they don't have to look up to anyone."

For years you were asked to get more into the box, and now Hansi Flick comes in and pushes you back….

"It's true that with Flick I'm playing further back, but it's a position I like. I'm in constant contact with the ball and, at the end of the day, what a player wants is to have the ball and the more the better. All the coaches ask me to go forward, but Flick also asks me to organise."

How did he explain this change of position to you?

"He wants me to stick to the '6' to get the ball out and, when we have it, to get up there and score goals and assist."

It is proving that it is compatible with Dani Olmo...

"At the Euros we laughed because we heard that we couldn't play together, that we were wondering who was going to start... We knew we could and, in addition, we get along very well and we understand each other on the field."

Do you think it was a somewhat forced controversy?

"If they tried to play us off against each other, they didn't succeed because we joked and teased each other about it, saying, 'No, we can't play together. Sorry.' We knew that maybe after the summer we would get together and it would be perfect."

Did you ask him to come to Barça?

"Yes, I wrote to him to come, that I wanted to play with him."

How has the atmosphere changed with Hansi Flick?

"With Xavi, everything was criticised, everything seemed to be going wrong, but now everything is going more smoothly. He is not criticised so much in the press and he has brought a sense of seriousness, although he is also a bit of a joker and is close to the players."

How close?

"A lot. Although he may seem like a robot and is very serious, he has a heart and knows how to lead a group. He is capable of giving a hug to anyone who needs it or having a chat with them."

And the debate about Barça's style, where does that leave us?

"It will always exist. We are still in control of the game, we have the players to do that, although with nuances, like going more into space."

There are some teammates who seem happier: Lewandowski, Raphinha...

"Those at the top like to play, have more chances and feel much more comfortable."

When you got injured at the Euros, did you ever think that someone had jinxed you?

"It's true that at that moment I thought about why everything had happened to me, what bad luck... But then I remembered a comment that they made to me to look at it on the bright side, because it was a fortuitous move and that I was physically strong. I took it like that, knowing that as soon as I recovered I would be back to 100%."

During all that time outside the pitch, where did Pedri take refuge?

"It's always been in my family. But I've tried a lot of things, pilates, cold water in the morning... I know my body better because I started very young and, whether you like it or not, it shows. Now I've found something that works really well for me..."

Tell me the secret...

"With Julio [Tous]'s specific work at Barça, strength training with bands, pulleys, etc., I feel very good. Then I continue doing pilates, although my teacher is now injured and can't teach now, and I continue with the hyperbaric chamber, cold water in the mornings, we control sleep... These are things that we have been adding to the routine."

What couldn't Pedri live without?

"Football. It's everything in my life. It's what I enjoy the most."

I thought you were going to tell me about the sea?

"That as well [smiles]. Having the sea nearby is something essential for me, as it is for all Canarians. It gives me peace. In Tenerife, I used to go to the beach a lot with my mates to play football and that helped me to relax and disconnect."

Can you still do that?

"It depends on which beach [laughs]. I have to choose it carefully. It's true that I do it less than before."

When are you happiest?

"With my family and now my little dog Nilo. My mother wanted to call him Thor, but I looked for other names and she let me choose. My parents live with me in Barcelona, although my father goes back and forth to Tenerife to take care of my grandmother."

And where does this habit of taking a penalty against your father when you win something come from? In Berlin you had to take it with your hand.

"It's a routine we have. I hope to win many titles so that I can stop. My father was a goalkeeper and he always told me that I had to get to the Third Division to beat him. Now we tease each other with that."

#‘I know my body better because I started very young and whether you like it or not it shows’#the mentality of this boy ❤️‍🩹#i love him a lot #pedri #pedri gonzalez #spain nt #*interview #*nations league

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the-offside-rule · 11 months ago

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Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Champagne Problems

Requested: fucking HIGHLY requested

Prompt: it's basically how Max and Y/n began their little affair from Farewell

Farewell: Part 1, Part 2

Champagne Problems: Part 2

Warnings: cheating, FICTION

Y/n smiled politely as the cameras flashed around her. This would be the first time she would be at the FIA Gala as an F1 driver. She was there when she was in F2 two years ago, and ultimately missed out last year after a very disappointing year in Williams. She posed and laughed, becoming more or less effortlessly gorgeous, easily the most gracious woman in the room and it didn't go unnoticed.

Many of her fellow drivers watched from the sidelines, one of these was Max who had his girlfriend tapping away on her phone mindlessly as he watched on. There was something about her when he first met her. Her honesty, her urge to befriend the grid. It made her likable from the get go and now that she was his teammate, he couldn't help but steal glances at her from across the garage. Despite the six-year age gap, there was an undeniable connection between them. Max, usually confident on the track, found himself feeling a bit uneasy around her. "Our turn." Kelly said, taking Max from his trance. He looked up to see Y/n gone and all the cameras noe turned in anticipation of who was to come next. "Right. Let's go." He smiled,grabbing her hand and leading her to the carpet.

Max walked backstage, being briefed on how the whole main event of the two teammates walking out would work. "So I just have to stand in the bit on the floor eith white tape?" Max asked. "Yes well you have to-" The voice faded away as he spotted Y/n smiling as she got her makeup touched up. God she looked stunning, but that's not something anyone should ever feel about their teammate, especially when she's younger. Max stood looking forward beside Y/n. They stood silently before Max coughed and managed to get a "hello" out. "I was beginning to think you were ignoring me." Y/n chuckled. "Never. I could never ignore you. You're far too loud and bubbly." Y/n turned to look at him and he did the same for her. "Don't pretend you hate it." She smiled.

"If you don't mind me saying-" He paused and looked between both of her eyes. "You look very good tonight." She nodded and smiled. "I know." Max chuckled. "I'd say you do." The pair looked forward, returning to their professional composure. "You know, I don't like these kind of events." She said. Max turned his head slightly so he could look at her in the corner of his eye. "I don't like having to dress up. I would prefer for us to just head somewhere with our Red Bull stuff on." She joked making Max laugh. "I mean if it suits you wear it."

"Introducing, newly crowned two time World Champion, Max Verstappen and the first woman to grace the grid in years, his 19 year old teammate, Y/n Y/l/n."

As Max stood next to his World Championship trophy, he searched the room for his teammate, desperately wanting to find her. Eventually he spotted her face, once bright and smiley now looking bored as she found herself surrounded by men. He chuckled and set his glass aside before grabbing the bottle of champagne beside him and making his way over to the small group. "But you see, crypto is the future and I would even go as far to say-"

"Hello Y/n!" She turned to see her teammate with a beaming smile upon his face. "Max." She replied. "Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind if I borrowed her from you. Y/n and I need to discuss some things. Excuse us." Max said, guiding her away with a knowing smile. As they walked away, Y/n couldn't help but feel the magnetic pull between them. "Of course." She turned to the guests and excused herself before quickly rushing off with Max. "Thank god. I don't think I could've listened to them talking about crypto currency for another minute." Max laughed, whisking her away with a charming smile. "Saved by the Max Verstappen." Y/n teased, her eyes meeting Max's. "Just returning the favor for you helping me this year." Max replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "You hardly needed me for something, did you?" She asked. "No, I just thought you needed help out of that situation and I happen to have a full bottle of champagne."

The pair found themselves on the balcony of the gala, away from prying eyes, continuing their conversation. Max, still hesitant to admit his feelings, spoke about the unique dynamics of their partnership on the track. "You know," Max began, clearing his throat. He turned to see Y/n looking at him. His knees went weak before continuing on. "We make a great team out there. I mean you're young, you're basically fearless and then...me?" He stopped, confused where he was going with this. "Old and wise?" He looked at her offended. "I'm not that old." She looked back out onto the view with a subtle smirk. "Well, you're not so bad yourself, Max. Maybe it's the teamwork that's making us stand out."

"Maybe it's something else?" Y/n took a deep breath in as Max continued on. "How do you mean?" She asked. Max fought in his head whether or not he should admit to these immoral thoughts he had about her. "Nothing." He muttered back, grabbing the champagne from Y/n and taking a swig sipping from the bottle. "Well you've started it now, you may as well finish it." Y/n said. The air between them crackled with unspoken emotions, and Y/n could sense Max's internal struggle, torn between his feelings and loyalty to his girlfriend. "Just say it." She whispered. Max let out a sigh and kept looking out onto the view, not brave enough to look into her eyes in case he fell in love. "There's something about you, Y/n. I can't put a name to it but it's there."

"I've noticed, Max. It's been there all season." He let out a breath of relief, knowing she felt the same. "So, what exactly do we do now?" He asked. "Because-" He turned to her, taking her hand into his. She locked eyes with him. She never realised how blue they were before but now she can't help it, seeing the twinkling lights within them. "I can't promise anything, but I can't deny what I feel either." She nodded. "I understand, Max. I just-" He closed the gap between them, pecking her lips gently. He pulled away, staring at her in disbelief of what he had just done. "I am so sorry." He whispered. She took a deep breath. "Do it again."

It didn't take long for his hands to cup her face and pull her in again for another kiss. The kiss deepened and his hands dropped to her waist, while hers went under his buttoned shirt. This is the passion he had wanted with her. Y/n, her head generally always thinking of what others would say if they saw this, didn't care as Max pushed her back towards the ledge on the balcony and began to kiss her neck. Her fingers twirled through his hair, messing it as his now stained lips drew lilac bruises from her skin. She grinned, pulling him back up to engulf him yet another kiss when-

"Max!" The pair jumped apart by the sound of the sudden voice. "Max!" Their PR manager. "Yeah?" He called back, fixing his shirt back into his trousers. "We just need you for some photos!" Max wiped Y/n's smudged lipstick away from her lips and allowed her to fix his tie and his own lips. "Coming!" He shouted back. "If you find Y/n on the way in, can you call her in too?" Max looked down to Y/n grinning. "Of course!"

"Max?" He turned back, looking at her. "How about a movie at my hotel tonight?" She asked, twiddling with her fingers. Max didn't know what to do. "Um, maybe it's not such a good idea right now. I mean-" He paused gesturing inside. "My girlfriend is here and I don't think she would-"

"No, no, I get it. I think we just let the champagne get to us." She said. "Yeah. But if its any consolation, if I was single, you would- I mean I would love to- you- yeah." He couldn't quite finish his sentence. Y/n nodded. "Thanks." She mumbled. "I will-" He stopped. "I'll talk to you later." Y/n nodded again. "I'll be in soon. I. Just going to have a look at the view." She smiled, reassuringly. Max nodded and turned to leave. How could he do that? How stupid was he? Then again, she asked him to kiss her again. Did it mean anything?

As the gala drew to a close, Max and Y/n lingered closely to one another, their eyes speaking volumes. Max hesitated, his unspoken desire evident, but his unspoken loyalty to his girlfriend still there, but being questioned. "Should we leave?" Kelly asked, sensing that Max was not feeling it anymore. He nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "Alright. We should say goodbye to the other guests then." Kelly held his hand gently and pulled him along to say goodbye to everybody. "Leaving so early? You're not drunk already, are you?" Christian chuckled, patting Max on the back. Max chuckled as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I don't know. I've had a lot of people buying me drinks and then a whole bottle of champa-"

Max looked to Christian's right to see Y/n, looking between both his eyes. He felt the air stuck in his lungs as she stared right into his very soul. "I'll see you on the track, Y/n," Max finally said, his voice carrying a mix of regret and longing. Y/n, understanding the complexity of their situation, smiled softly. "Looking forward to it, Max." He opened his arms for a hug to which Y/n reluctantly fell into. How long would this awkwardness go on for? And how long would it take for someone to figure it out? The pair pulled away with Max giving an awkward smile. "See you next year." He whispered. "Likewise." And so, she watched him as he walked away, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine

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separatist-apologist · 9 months ago

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Separatist-apologist lore beneath the cut

I dropped out of college when I was 19 and when I decided to go back, I had two kids. I was undeclared and I felt old despite still being in my 20s. I had a scholarship which required me to do daytime classes with all of the brand new 18 year olds and I felt wildly out of place. Before that, I'd been staying at home raising my kids while their dad worked and a lot of people thought wanting to return to the workforce was a mistake, so there was this immense pressure to succeed where I'd once failed.

The problem was not knowing what I wanted to do. All I really cared about was history and domestic violence and as far as I knew, there was no good career path that combined those things, and so I signed up for four random classes that had nothing to do with each other. One of them was called Serial Killers in America which was taught by a former police officer. Another was introduction to psychology, taught by a social worker.

I was sitting in the Serial Killer class one morning, way in the back where no one paid me any attention, when the professor (former cop, remember) began telling a story about being called to a house for domestic violence and I remember looking up at her as she said that too often, these things are a "he said, she said," and they're usually both lying.

And it just ignited something angry in my stomach. I was looking for an advisor since I'd been undeclared and I turned that day to the psych professor and asked if she'd fill out my form to be my advisor. As she was, I told her what the other professor said and how much it bothered me and she asked me what I wanted to do. So I told her, and she asked if I'd ever considered social work.

So began six years of perfectionism and the single-minded goal of getting my masters degree and working in the field as a licensed social worker. I remember my first day in orientation at grad school, someone asked if anyone knew where they wanted to be in 5 years. I was the only person who raised their hand. I knew where I wanted to be.

And for the last three years, I got to live that dream. The good, the bad, the horrible- all of it was mine. And today I pack up this office I've worked in for the last three years because its all over. The work was always good and I'm proud of what I've done. I've published papers, I've sat in state-wide commissions, I've talked to legislators, I've presented at conferences and I've trained a new generation of advocates who feel the same passion I do.

It's no secret that people who work in this field are typically survivors themselves. Something about surviving it turns people into advocates, whether they meant to be or not. And often they manage to make it out of the metaphorical burning building, turn around, and decide they need to go back inside to try and get others. The amount of people I've talked to who say, "I want other people to know they're not alone and they can get through this," is numerous. It makes you optimistic, it makes it impossible to ignore the good in humanity even when you're faced with some of the worst people/circumstances you'll ever encounter.

And despite all the petty office politics, a system designed (sometimes purposefully) to make leaving difficult, and state legislators who push back every inch of progress we ever made, I will miss it. The work was always good. I'm proud of the things I did individually for folks, of the amount of times I got to tell someone they did nothing wrong, that they deserved safety and respect.

These three years have been the best and worst of my life, but the work was always good. I will always be in it, will always be standing beside the ghost of my childhood self, offering her a hand and a voice and I think if I accomplished nothing else, at least I did that.

#maybe this is too personal but im feeling so sad today #packing up my office and staring at all these memories #its a new opportunity somewhere bigger and better funded with a higher level of responsibility #but right now it half feels like the death of a dream #separatist-apologist in real life

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pollymorgan · 5 months ago

Text

Ex-husband Negan Part 5

Warnings: An asshole named Negan and a woman who can't get over him.

Luckily, nothing serious happened to David, except maybe the scare of his life. Negan really pulled himself together. Maybe he has finally become sensible. I had actually given up hope.

When my daughters miraculously went to school on time and Negan left the house with them, I took a deep breath.

What had happened in the last few hours?

I really feel that as soon as my ex-husband is near me for longer than five minutes, he throws my whole life into absolute chaos.

Inevitably, I had to think about the last night and my pulse immediately accelerated. It was just madness. This man still knows my body better than I do. No one can touch me the way he does. Instantly, I felt that tingling in my stomach again. That damn feeling that has often led me into misery.

19 years ago

Even though I had left my old home eight years ago to build my own life in New York, I kept in touch with my best friend Harper. Harper and I spent our entire school years together, and our connection never broke despite the distance. We used to be a trio, but Scarlet unfortunately became one of the main reasons why I had moved away so hastily.

God, I was so stupid back then not to recognize the signs and always make excuses for Negan and her. But sometimes you are so blinded that you only realize it when you see it with your own eyes.

The fact that Harper has been dating Negan's best friend Simon for a few years was, admittedly, really strange for me at first. After all, I tried with all my might to erase Negan from my life, but by now we had been separated for ages and the anger had subsided over the years. The anger, yes, but unfortunately not all the other feelings I felt towards him. If I was honest with myself, I immediately compared every new man in my life to him. Even though I didn't want to, I thought so often about our time together. Everything reminded me of him, even though I lived in a completely different city, but you can't run away from feelings.

Whenever Harper happened to mention something about Simon and Negan during our hours-long phone calls, I immediately became quiet and absorbed every piece of information. Of course, I never asked directly, my pride was too great for that, but it seemed that this guy would remain my weakness forever.

This is also how it came about that Harper invited me to her birthday. I was very excited for the house party at her place and took a few days off to fly to my old city.

After we were both incredibly excited on the phone that I would be able to follow her invitation, Harper suddenly became quite serious at the other end.

"Negan will be there too..." she said calmly.

Immediately I was speechless. Why would he show up there? After all, it's my best friend's birthday, not Simon's. I cleared my throat briefly, but then I absolutely did not want to spoil their, or my, mood.

"Yes, of course... it's totally okay! I'm looking forward to seeing him again after so long... Oh man, we were teenagers and now you're already 28, you old hag..." I joked, even though I didn't feel like joking at all, thinking about my ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart in such a brutal way.

"Yes, yes ..first get to my age! At 27, you still talk so easily." Harper countered.

Until the day of the party, I managed to push the thought of seeing Negan again out of my mind. However, when I rang her doorbell, the nervousness crept up on me. Is he already there? How will he react to me? And how will I react to him? Does he still think about me sometimes? Does he even miss me occasionally?

When Harper greeted me with the words that I was the first guest, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Of course, postponed is not canceled, but in that moment I felt a strange relief.

We embraced joyfully and I congratulated her from the bottom of my heart. Then I handed her a bottle of her favorite Prosecco and a self-made voucher for a weekend in New York. She had wanted to visit me so many times, but the plans always failed and in the end, I was always the one who visited.

The greeting with Simon was a strange mix of a handshake and a hug, so I was glad when Harper asked me if I could help her in the kitchen.

It was my first visit to the two of them since they had moved into a shared apartment. The whole thing was really strange for me, everything seemed so adult, almost bourgeois. Not at all like I knew her. Okay, we had grown up, but somehow time seemed to have stood still for me. Since I went to New York at the age of 19, not much had changed in my lifestyle. Except that I had a steady job and earned my own money.

Harper's kitchen was full of modern appliances, while at home, I was happy if I could find a sharp knife.

But before we started preparing the rest of the food, Harper opened us two beers and within seconds, everything was just like old times. We joked and laughed about the most trivial things, and soon the first guests arrived. The doorbell kept ringing, and then Simon opened the door to let the next ones in. People would then show up in the kitchen after a few seconds, congratulating my friend on her birthday. Some of them I knew from before, while others were new acquaintances, mainly her coworkers. Mentally, I tried to match the names to the stories that Harper had told me during one of our phone conversations.

Superficially, I played it cool, but inside, I was boiling. A thousand times, I played in my mind how I would react if Negan walked in through the door. I kept envisioning that one scene that made me startle every time the doorbell rang.

I opened another beer and then helped Harper set up the buffet. The salads were piling up, she had prepared so much. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. The color scheme of the decor matched, and the dishes were all from the same brand.

With my arms crossed on my hips, I admired everything. "Wow, I have to say, you've really become the perfect housewife, while I..."

"While you still have the hottest ass in all of America... Damn, just look at her. God bless America!" a very familiar voice interrupted me.

Amidst all the commotion around us, I hadn't even noticed that Negan had entered the kitchen. Being surprised by his presence made it even harder. I took a deep breath and then turned with a smile on my face to face him.

He was already so close to me that there was barely any space between us, and his face put on that typical grin. I hadn't seen him in so long, but his green-brown eyes looked familiar to me. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss on my cheek.

I literally inhaled his scent, a mixture of rugged aftershave, cigarette smoke, and his own unique scent. Instead of letting go immediately, he held me much longer than necessary, and I was frozen in his arms.

"It feels unbelievably great to finally feel you so close again..." he whispered in my ear, and I immediately got goosebumps all over my body.

None of the prepared lines came out of my mouth.

He hadn't forgotten how to charm me, if anything, he seemed to have perfected it.

I stared at him wordlessly until he suddenly leaned in even more. Bewildered, I evaded him, and he grabbed one of the beer bottles that were right behind me.

Amused by my reaction, he winked at me and clinked his bottle against mine. Then he disappeared into the living room. Suddenly, a former classmate approached me and hugged me to greet me. She immediately started talking a mile a minute, but I couldn't follow her words as I kept thinking about the recent situation with Negan.

Some time passed before we all decided to move to the living room. Negan and Simon were standing by the window, smoking a cigarette. I tried my best not to stare at him constantly, but I caught myself doing it repeatedly.

Harper introduced me to Daniel, one of her coworkers. The three of us sat down with a few others at the living room table. The conversation was already in full swing, so it was easy for me to just join in.

I was in the middle of telling the others about the most unique restaurants in New York when I suddenly felt someone sit next to me on the couch. Without looking, I could tell it was Negan. Immediately, my heart rate increased, but I tried not to show it and continued talking.

Negan started a conversation with Daniel, who was still sitting next to me, so I leaned further forward so they could talk better. Negan leaned even closer behind my back to his conversation partner, and suddenly, I felt his hand on my hip. A bolt of electricity shot through my body, but I tried not to show it. As if that wasn't enough, my t-shirt had ridden up slightly in this position, and Negan began gently stroking the bare skin of my back with his thumb. God, how I had missed this feeling. I pushed all doubts aside and just focused on his tender touch and what it was doing to me.

It was only when I heard my name that I was snapped out of my trance.

"What?" I asked, startled, looking at Negan, who straight ened and then smiled knowingly at me.

"The beer at Dawson's is a disaster..." he laughed.

I leaned back against the couch and then looked at Daniel.

"Oh yes, terrible... gave me the hangover of my life," I tried to somehow join the conversation.

"That was probably more about the quantity than the quality..." Negan noted amusedly and reached for my thigh. His hand stayed there for the next while, until I loudly declared that I needed to visit the restroom and disappeared there.

Upon reaching the bathroom, I straightened up in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection questioningly. Where was all of this leading? I didn't have an answer.

As soon as I opened the door to go back, Negan was standing right in front of me. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into him.

"Hey... not so hasty! Is it already midnight, or why are you in such a hurry, Cinderella?" he said, holding my upper arms.

"Would you search for me if I lost my shoe?" I asked, looking at him inquisitively.

"I may not be a damn prince, but fuck, honey. I would turn the whole world upside down to find you..." he replied.

I'm not sure if I was the one who took a step back, or if he led me back to the bathroom, but suddenly we were there. Negan closed the door behind him and locked it, not taking his eyes off me.

"And what would you do when you find me?" I asked innocently, nervously biting my lower lip.

Negan pulled me towards him abruptly and kissed me just as passionately.

"Exactly this..." he whispered into my open mouth before our tongues touched. In that kiss lay all the desire and the incredible longing that had been dormant in me for the past years. I clutched onto the hair at the back of his head as if I never wanted to let go.

Slowly, my mouth traveled along his jaw, his beard pleasantly scratching my lips, and when I touched his neck, I felt his Adam's apple slightly vibrate.

"I was such a damn idiot..." he now whispered softly.

"Oh yes, you were... I think now would be the right time to make things right..." I said, as I was already undoing the belt of his pants.

Negan grinned at me, "If we stay in here any longer, everyone outside will know what we've been up to in here."

"Very good..." I said with a smile and was about to kneel down, but he stopped me.

"Stop, we don't have time for that now..." as he said that, he turned me around so that my back was to him, then crossed his arms in front of me and pulled me close to him. The feeling of his strong body made me even more unrestrained.

"Baby, believe me, I'll do anything you want, but first, I just need to feel your sweet pussy around my cock... I've missed you so incredibly much..." he growled in a deep voice directly into my ear and pushed me towards the washing machine, until I eventually leaned against it.

The lower arm of his left arm landed on my back and gently pushed my upper body down. While holding me in this position, with his right hand, he pulled down my jeans and underwear, and I excitedly helped him until they were hanging around my knees, presenting Negan with my naked behind. His hand traveled up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I spread my legs as much as I could. Then his flat hand landed directly on my center. Gently, he ran his fingers through my folds, and just the feeling made me moan.

"Please, I need your cock..." I pleaded.

With the hand that had just touched my most intimate area, he gave me a light spank on the behind.

"And let no one say dreams don't come true..." Negan exclaimed enthusiastically.

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