#i am really tired but like. you see the point.

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe being all stressed at work and all he wants is come pick his sweet girl from her girl brunch and go home and cuddle? (Love ur work and than u baby)

this is so cute :< i can see it so clearly

first req yippee thank u my love <3

cw: it’s sickly sweet fluff, maybe a tad suggestive, reader described as shorter than rafe, use of “princess” “angel” “wife”, some manhandling

rafe had a headache, what from? it was unclear, maybe dealing with stakeholders and being in meetings all day or just simply having to come in on a day which would be a day off for anyone else. the joys of being a ceo. he couldn’t even think straight at a certain point, telling his father’s assistant, now his, to push all his meetings to monday. the overseas partners be damned, he needed to see his girl. you were the only one who could make him feel better, the only one allowed to see how much it was getting to him

he called you on his way out, you felt the phone ring in your purse, resting next to your lap on the booth you and your friends were piled into. brunch was starting to become a tradition after rafe kept going into the office on saturday mornings, you hated how empty the house felt so instead you hung out with your friends. you didn’t expect him to be free till 12 pm but now he was calling. your friends groaned as you hopped out of the booth, skipping slightly to answer the phone. “so whipped.” kie resounded behind your back and you wouldn’t even refute it.

your voice was sickeningly sweet when you answered, knowing your rafe was probably stressed or tired and was taking his few minutes between meetings to call you. “hi baby.”

“hey princess, you still out?” his voice sounded strained, you frowned at the tone, you could tell he was tired.

“uh huh, everything okay rafey?” he sighs at your words, you’re so endlessly adoring and doting, he should just wife you up. a big diamond ring would look so nice on your fingers, you’d be mrs. rafe cameron, god he wished you were next to him.

“‘missed you, can i pick you up angel?” you perked up at his words, already moving back to your table so you could pick up your bag.

“you’re off work?” there was a slight waver in your voice, you didn’t want him to go back after what you assumed was a short hour break.

“i’m taking it off, just wanna lie in bed with you.” that was all you needed to hear, telling him you’ll text him your location and hanging up with a sweet, “see you soon rafe.”

your friends groaned as you informed them you’d be leaving early, telling them you’d venmo them the split. the next ten minutes felt like hours as you anxiously awaited your boyfriend’s arrival. when he was finally outside you practically ran out of the restaurant, your friends giggling at you.

rafe was waiting outside his car door, watching you walk over, you looked so pretty in the morning all warm and cuddled up in bed. now you were in a sundress and sandals looking like a dream, you giggled when he looked you up and down with zero subtlety, skipping into his arms. he caught your weight, huffing a laugh at the impact. “pretty.” he murmured into your ear and you pressed a kiss to his collarbone, not quite reaching his face even in your heels. it was strange how his headache had vanished as soon as you were in his arms, was it your scent, your touch, your pretty voice? he didn’t know and he didn’t care, all he needed to know was that you fixed everything. he really needed to hack into your pinterest somehow and look at the wedding board he just knew you had.

you made it home pretty quickly, rafe ditched his dress shirt and pants, you kicked off your sandals, took of your bra, and practically jumped into bed. his arms wrapped around you, hating how distant you were on the other side of the bed, and pulled you against him. you turned in his hold, looking at your beautiful boyfriend, pressing your hand to his face, there was still a furrow to his brow. “you okay rafey?”

“i am now.” he kissed the palm of your hand tugging you closer if it was even possible. you were squished against him and even still it wasn’t enough, unsatisfied, rafe turned onto his back pulling your body to lay flat on his. you gasped at the action, bringing your hands to rest on either side of his head against the mattress. “that’s better.” the weight of you on top of him was comforting, now he could feel all of you without worry that you’d move out of his grasp. rafe didn’t know why he felt so erratic but he felt in control, he had you and you weren’t going anywhere. you watched him relax, propping your chin onto his chest just so you could look up at him. his eyelashes fluttered closed as you stroked his cheek, the soothing motion of your fingers lulling him to sleep, it wasn’t long after that you fell asleep with your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat. when you woke up you felt hot and sweaty, sighing at the clammy feeling of rafe’s arms circling your back. he was holding you against him as if you would go anywhere. you tried wiggling out of his hold but were unsuccessful, waking him in the process

“baby stop moving,” his gravelly voice halted your ministrations and you huffed against his chest, both annoyed and impressed by how firm his pecs were.

“rafe we can’t sleep all day, we’ll be up all night.” you murmured, he hummed at your words, a deep rumble that shook you against him.

“that was my plan anyways.” you groaned at his teasing words, belatedly realizing you shouldn’t have said that in the first place.

“at least let me-” you squirmed in his hold again, this time he let you move and you lay by his side instead, his arms still loosely around you. “hey big boy, i’m not going anywhere, ease up.” you teased, poking his biceps as he kept them around you. the nickname was enough for him to be momentarily stunned, easing his grip and you giggled at his reaction. sea blue eyes widened at your words and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. a groaned slipped past his lips, opting to instead stuff his head between your breasts so he could at least be close to you this way. you giggled at his actions, watching how he scooted down the length of the bed so his head could rest against you. you scraped your nails against his scalp, hands naturally finding their way back to him. rafe sighed into you, so grateful he could lie on his favorite pillows, hear your quickening heartbeat, smell your perfume and distinct scent. he’d bottle it up if he could. you let him rest there a while longer, massaging the taunt muscles of his back and shoulders.

rafe would much rather spend every day like this with you, cuddled up and limbs tangled so thoroughly he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin.

since im a demon and evil i was having alternative thoughts like what if rafe came home and just wanted to smoke a blunt and do other things or what if he just needs to take his stress out in other ways okay goodbye this way too long already i just loved the prompt sm!

[rekino2114]

If I'm not too late, could I please ask for Valentines prompt 17 with M!Reader and Makima rewatching their wedding video (bonus points if it's with their child Nayuta)?

Love your work!

You and makima rewatching your wedding video

Pairing:makima x male reader

A/n:this takes place in the nayuta daughter au

Valentine's prompt#17

Prompts list

If there's one thing makima loves....then it's you but if there are two things she loves...then it's you and nayuta, but somewhere on that list is watching movies.

She always liked movies, but especially now that she has someone to watch them with she loves those moments even more, and she doesn't mind rewatching for the 7th time whatever Disney movie nayuta is currently obsessed with. She even buys her daughter merchandise of them that she brags about to everyone at school.

But her favorite "movie" to watch is by far your wedding video. Just remembering that day causes her heart to beat faster than usual, and watching it is just amazing it feels like reliving that beautiful moment, so much that it had become a tradition to watch it on valentine's day, even after nayuta was born.

"Daddy, mommy, the movie is about to start"

Makima giggled and placed nayuta into her lap while using her other hand to pull you closer to her

"It's not a movie nayuta, it's a recording"

"Oh......of what?"

"Of the best day of my life"

"*gasp* it's when I was born right?"

"No, sorry sweetie, that's the second best day of my life"

"Then what's the first one?"

"Just watch and see"

Nayuta started eating the popcorns you made her, which had way too much butter to be considered a light snack but quickly coughed because of the gasp she emitted when the video started playing

"It's you mommy! And you're a princess!"

"Oh am I?"

"Yeah, yeah, that dress is definitely a princess one"

You smiled and looked at the video, makima really looked beautiful in her black dress. She always looked beautiful but on that day she was special just like everything else

"Seems like I'm not the only one who liked that dress"

"I think I know exactly why you liked it, dear"

"Can you blame me? You looked stunning"

The video continues with makima walking down the aisle and coming face to face with you

"*gasp* it's daddy too!"

"Yes and he looked stunning too"

Makima gave you a loving look that you reciprocated and got even closer to you, continuing to watch the TV attentively

"What are you doing now?"

"Reciting our vows"

"What does that mean?"

"It's like.....promises that you make to the person you love and that you have to keep forever"

"Really? Forever? Isn't that tiring?"

"It's not, it's just promising to love each other forever and in any condition, and saying how much their love changed you"

"Daddy changed you?"

"More than you can imagine"

Makima continued stroking her daughter's hair while watching the video, she remembered all of it like it was yesterday. the joy she felt seeing you there,the music, the people, she just felt pure happiness in that moment.

When you read your vows to her, she felt so loved and genuinely happy. All your promises and declarations made her heart and soul warm, and her eyes water a bit. However, she vowed herself not to cry during such a moment, so she didn't. She had a lot of experience in hiding her emotions, but of course, she didn't hide the widest smile she ever gave to you, she wanted you to see how happy you made her, it was only when the ceremony was over and you were alone in your room that she truly cried tears of pure happiness while vowing to love you and never leave you again, she felt loved and she wanted nothing more than to give you that love back, she wanted you to see all the emotions you made her feel, the pure happiness and love you made her feel bot through smiles and tears.

Just watching the kiss again and thinking about it made her feel exactly like that again.

"*gasp* daddy! Mommy is crying"

Makima snapped out of her thoughts and touched her cheek, how did she not notice the tears until now?

"Are you alright makima?"

She looked to her right to see your concerned face, the face of the person she loved and wanted to give the world to, the fact of the person who she had a child with, the face if the person she married.

She wiped her tears and looked at you with a wide pure smile, very similar to the one she gave you on the day that was playing on the tv

"It's nothing darling, I'm just so happy"

[todosdream]

clingy | ony

216 wrds. just a mini, fluffy blurb! black reader. some cursing.

just a lil sum until I can really sit and write :)

“baby, come on. we ain’t got shit to do today, why you tryna get up?” ony grumbles, half asleep. his grip around your waist is tight, head on your tummy. it’s such a cozy day, the rain falling outside and the weather slightly cool. ony loves gloomy weather because the cuddles always hit different. he’ll never admit how clingy he can be, which is why you grab your phone and point it at him, clicking record.

“y’all see this? this y’all’s mans. a big baby,” you tease. he usually hits you with the, ‘mane, stop playin’,’ but this time he has no intentions of doing so. “I sure the fuck am. put that phone down and scratch my scalp, mama,” he grumbles, squeezing you tighter. he ignores the phone, at this point you have enough pictures and videos that he couldn’t care less if you took another. he’s tired, it’s been a long week, and every weekend he looks forward to your scalp scratches.

“ony!” you laugh, pinching his shoulder. “love, it’s wash day. you know how long that takes. I barely even wanna do it, but I need to.” it’s true, you couldn’t push off wash day. you’ve been trying to grow your curls, so taking the utmost care of them is important. “book with keisha,” he mutters. “I’ll pay for whatever. rub them hands down my back like I like.”

“wha— onyankopon!” you let out a loud laugh.

[revelboo]

omg, your stories are so good!! Really love that you write for characters I don't usually get to see, like waspinator, the insecticons, etc. Plus you also got me interested in Sunstorm, Which is surprising cause I didn't used to give him a second thought, before. Now I'm curious about where that story is going. Can't wait to see what you do in the future!

You guys have challenged me to write for a lot of characters I’d never written before and I love it

Where I Belong Pt 12

Bluestreak x Reader

• Waking up tangled in someone else, it takes a moment to remember that Blue had never mass shifted back after telling you all of it. He’d just wrapped himself around you, grieving until he’d finally gone into recharge still clinging to you like you’re his security blanket. Now his face is jammed against your neck, one of the points of his chevron digging uncomfortably into your cheek and his knee is between your thighs, arms wrapped around you. And he’s still out, you can feel him venting against you and you don’t have the heart to wake him. Tipping your head back to try and avoid getting poked by his chevron, you listen to the hum of his internal systems.

• There’s a soft hand on his helm, arms holding him and he curls tighter against that warmth and safety. Slowly coming out of recharge without that hum of terror chasing him into alertness. Without the nightmares. “Blue, honey, I can’t breathe,” you say and he’s fully online. Head lifting, he realizes he’s wrapped around you and he awkwardly scoots back. Forcing himself to stop smothering you and to put some distance between you both when he just wants to bury his face back against you. Feel those soft hands on him telling him that he’s okay. Reassuring him. “Sleep okay?” You ask him, somehow not annoyed with him when you should be. Have every right to be.

• “Sorry. I guess I got a little clingy there.” He can’t even look you in the eye right now, too embarrassed about needing someone to hold him. Like there’s something wrong with him for it. And you wiggle closer, resting your cheek on his chassis. See his arm lift, hand hovering but not touching and you grab his wrist and firmly drag his arm down to drape over you. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice small. Like he thinks he’s bothering you and it makes you more determined to stay right where you are.

• “What am I doing? You’re warm and it’s freezing in here,” you reply, relaxing against him with a yawn. Pretending that you’re not trying to comfort him, trying to help. Servos hesitantly playing with your hair, he forces himself to relax. Willing to play along if he can feel your heart beating against him, grounding him in the reality that he’s not alone anymore. Doesn’t expect you to stay. No one ever does, but wants to hang on to this feeling until you get tired with him. Until he becomes too much of a burden.

• “Thank you,” he whispers and that almost breaks your heart. Like the fact that anyone might just actually want to reach out to him, to stay beside him is unthinkable to him. Makes you want to hunt down whoever put that thought into his head and beat some sense into them. Because this sweet bot is beginning to mean the world to you and you’re determined to protect him at any cost.

Previous

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

You seem to take a lot of Animorphs asks, and this is a random thing I've been wondering about, so:

I think the first time I've learned of the Yeerks getting the morphing cube was through Wikipedia. Which, yeah, I should've read the books first but 1 and 6 had some negative impact on me as a child and it took me some time to get back to reading the series. Anyway, the way it was framed there it was Tom's Yeerk getting the morphing power, but I'm pretty sure this is demonstrably false - his host body, AKA Tom Berenson, got the morphing power. In your post on what if the Animorphs' first mission had failed you addressed the point of holding cells for morph-capable hosts (a problem the Yeerks already addressed with Aloran, but that's slightly different). But you also suggested the use of ladybugs morphs (I think?) for escape. Thus, the interesting point is: Tom's yeerk would be limited in what animals to acquire. I suppose the yeerks are unlikely to try acquiring small forms, as they don't really need stealth, but it might be an interesting limitation.

It's kind of important IMO to put an emphasis on the morph capable body, as it means the yeerk itself won't be able to morph out of the morph capable body. That means, for example, that all yeerks would have to be granted the morphing technology for the nothlit solution - even if some of Tom's loyalists somehow didn't flee with the rest. Might not be too interesting, but maybe worth a thought.

First: reading book series in order is for suckers; the only time I've ever done so is when the books come out as I'm reading them, and even then I've been known to skip around by just waiting a few years.

Second, there's an interesting thing about that yeerk in particular. From #53:

[Jake:] "You said you're already morph-capable." [Tom's yeerk:]"I am. And not just this body, by the way, but me. I've subjected my own true Yeerk self to the cube. You want to know what's funny? I can morph Tom. That's right, I can morph into my own host body. Cool, huh? But there are all these other Yeerks who are never going to get the chance to be free... I want to lose the whole Empire. They're prisoners of their own tired old thinking. We're a parasitic species, they can't see past that. We have the huge vulnerability of reliance on Kandrona rays. But morphed, permanently morphed, we won't need Kandrona rays, and we won't be parasites anymore."

So that yeerk does morph, even without Tom. And it seems like his goal is not morph-capable hosts — as Jake points out, they have plenty of those already — but widespread access to the morphing ability for yeerks themselves. Now, there are still hairy-ass consent issues if everyone's taking the easy option and just copying their hosts like this yeerk did, but the goal does seem to be cutting hosts out of the equation entirely.

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 18

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

The next day at work you were exhausted and distracted, almost putting the wrong shade of foundation on two different clients and completely forgetting primer and setting spray on another. You never fell back asleep after you got home that morning and you spent the entire day constantly checking your phone to see if Tom had texted you, even though you told yourself you didn’t want him to. You needed space from him to get over whatever was going on with you. However, the longer the day went on without hearing from him, the more depressed you got. What the fuck was happening to you?

When you went to bed that night, you checked the On Demand Entertainment website to see if Tom’s interview was online yet. Sure enough, the video was just posted. You settled back against your pillow and pressed play. 

Tom was dressed in a classic white button down shirt with a navy suit jacket and trousers. He was also wearing his glasses, which usually meant he was too tired for contacts. Still, you always thought he looked especially sexy in his glasses. 

The interview started with the classically attractive blonde reporter asking about Tom’s latest projects. His face lit up as he answered her, like it always did when he talked about his work. It wasn’t long, however, before she began ramping up to ask him about his love life, at which point, he began fidgeting more than usual, touching his face, rubbing his thighs, adjusting his glasses, and running his fingers through his hair. 

“So Tom, many of your films and series revolve heavily around romance, something you seem to have quite the knack for on screen,” the reporter began. 

Tom blushed. “Well, thank you. You’re too kind, really.”

“But what about off screen,” she continued. “You would have a hard time convincing me that Tom Hiddleston doesn’t have someone special in his life.”

He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs as he laughed nervously. Your heart rate sped up a little bit. You told yourself it was just because you were nervous for him, but the truth was you were genuinely anxious about what he would say. “Actually, I am currently unattached,” he replied coyly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better answer than that.” He chuckled bashfully.

“In that case, I’m sure our viewers would love to know how you would describe your perfect woman,” she responded without missing a beat. You rolled your eyes. Hear we go, you thought.

Tom furrowed his brow and rubbed the pad of his index finger across his lips contemplatively. “Should have seen that one coming,” he joked. Then he blushed again and smiled, seemingly thinking of something. “I think my so-called ‘perfect woman’ is anything but perfect. Someone who is passionate, almost to a fault, who recognizes the beauty in everyone but herself, and who calls me out on things that no one else will because she sees me for who I truly am, not what the world makes me out to be.” His face lit up again, just like when he talked about his work. That usually didn’t happen when he talked about his personal life. Was he thinking of someone specific, or was he acting? You’d like to think you knew him well enough to know whether he was acting or not, but then again, he was incredibly talented. 

Once the video ended, you set your phone aside and stared at the ceiling, debating if you should text Tom or not. You definitely hadn’t cleared your head of those annoying thoughts and feelings from the night before, and you wanted him to be the one to text you first. Still, you were the one to leave abruptly this morning, and you should still be a supportive friend about his interview. After about an hour of wrestling with yourself, you finally picked up your phone.

Goddammit, you thought. So much for getting some space. 

A few minutes later, you heard Tom enter your house. “Sweets?” he called, looking for you.

“In here,” you responded from the bedroom. You continued scrolling through your phone, wanting to appear indifferent.

Your bedroom door was open, but he gave a courtesy knock on the door frame anyway. “May I come in?”

“I was under the impression that I didn’t have a choice,” you replied, never looking away from your phone screen.

He chuckled lightly and then flopped down next to you on the bed. He gave you a quick peck on the shoulder and then positioned himself so he was laying perpendicular to you, with his head resting on your stomach.  “Hi.”

“Hi.” Your eyes stayed on the screen.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to hold your phone hostage to get you to talk?” 

“You will do no such thing,” you told him firmly, still not looking at him. “You were the one who decided to interrupt my quiet evening.” He swiftly plucked your phone from your hands and tucked it underneath him, forcing you to finally look at him. “Oi!”

“Talk,” he commanded. 

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“You literally just told me that you’re too in your head lately. So what exactly is going on in your head?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, trust me.”

“Fine then. Tell me what you meant when you told me to take you out of my ‘rotation.’”

“You know what I meant.”

“Actually, no, I don’t. Do you really think I just have a bunch of women on retainer, ready to come when I call?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You expect me to believe that you don’t?”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He looked concerned. 

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “I just meant that you could literally have anyone you want. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that opportunity?”

He sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?”

“You started it!”

“I just… I hope that’s not what you’re upset about.” He searched your face for confirmation, but you weren’t about to give it to him.

“It’s not. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sure you’ll find something or someone else to do while I work through my shit.”

“That’s not why I’m concerned. You’re my friend and I want to help you. I don’t understand why you won’t let me.”

You paused, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought back tears. “Because it’s not something you can help with,” you choked out.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly as he sat up and took your face in his hands. “You’re starting to scare me, Y/n. Please talk to me.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, causing some tears to fall down your cheeks. Tom brushed them away with his thumbs. You looked back up at him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you whispered, your teary eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. With genuine concern still in his eyes, he slowly leaned forward and just barely touched his lips to yours. You brought your hands up to cradle the back of his neck and gently pull him closer to you. His lips caressed yours tenderly, moving cautiously. 

After a moment, he hesitantly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “Should I stay, or do you want me to leave?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you replied, echoing his own words from moments ago.

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly.” Though there was still sadness in your eyes, a slight smirk crossed your face from giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He gave a small chuckle. “Then I think I’d like to stay. I’d rather not leave you like this.”

Your stomach filled with butterflies, but your brain told you not to think anything of it. “You really don’t have to,” you told him as he stood up and stripped down to his boxers. “Honestly, I’m okay.”

“While I one hundred percent believe you,” he said sarcastically as he climbed back into your bed and gently brushed one last stray tear from your face. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign that he was just doing this out of pity. When you couldn’t find one, you gave him a small smile. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to let you stay.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, smiling back at you. He’d never called you that before– his girl– and even though you knew it was just an expression, you were sure that if you’d been standing, your knees would have buckled. He kissed you again briefly and then laid down on his side facing you. You turned on your side so the two of you were face to face and he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

”I noticed you wore your glasses for your interview. Did you get any sleep after I left this morning?” you asked him.

“You know me too well,” he replied, running his foot lazily up and down your calf. “No, I couldn’t fall back asleep after you left.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you groaned, hiding your face in his chest. “You were sleeping so soundly before I woke you up.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

You lifted your head back up to look at him. “You were snoring.”

“What? I do not snore,” he argued in disbelief.

“It’s just a soft, little snore,” you explained, trying to hide your smile. “It’s kind of cute actually.” 

He looked at you suspiciously. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that one time?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh no. You’ve snored every night that we’ve slept together. I can’t believe no one else has told you this before!”

He shrugged. “Not everyone is as honest with me as you are, darling.”

“Well, someone needs to put you in your place once in a while,” you teased.

He laughed. “You’ll have no arguments from me about that.” His expression quickly shifted back to concern. “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m positive,” you assured him. “Like I said, I think it’s cute.” You tried to fight the yawn that crept up on you, but you lost.

Tom carefully tucked your hair behind your ear. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and held you close to his chest. You fell asleep almost instantly.

…

When you woke up the next morning, you rolled over to find that Tom was gone and there was a note on the side table. 

Had to rush to a meeting. I would have said goodbye but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you’re feeling better, and know that I’m always here if you need me. xx -T

With a heavy sigh, you let your forehead fall onto the mattress. This man was not making this easy on you. Why did he have to be so goddamn sweet? And why did you let him stay over in the first place? Even without the sex, you wouldn’t be able to get over…whatever was going on with you… if you kept up all this cuddling, and kissing, and sleeping over. Unfortunately, that meant that you had to set that boundary with him.

He didn’t reply right away, and your mind and heart started racing. Was it just about the sex for him this whole time? Did you just lose who you thought was your best friend over this? You felt yourself about to break down in tears, but then your phone buzzed.

You let out a sigh of relief, but there was still a small pit in your stomach. You desperately hoped that this would work; that the two of you could just focus on your friendship for a while and you would get over your silly emotions, and maybe you would go back to having casual sex one day, or maybe not. The important thing was that you wouldn’t lose him. You couldn’t lose him.

…

Tom threw his phone to the other end of the sofa and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. You wanted to focus on being friends. Of course. Just when he’d finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for you. He wanted so desperately to take a step forward, and instead you took a step back. At least he hadn’t made a fool of himself like Evelyn had suggested he do in Hawaii. 

It was a few nights before you came to visit him, and he and a few cast members had gone out for some drinks. 

“So Tom, are you ever going to tell us who she is?” Evelyn said with a nudge to Tom’s side.

“Who who is?” Tom asked, confused. 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Do you really think no one has noticed when you get a text and you start grinning like an idiot?”

“I don’t grin like an idiot,” he defended. 

“Oh, you so do,” Lily, another co-star, chimed in. 

He chuckled nervously. “It’s just my friend, Y/n.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Your friend? If she’s just your friend, then why are you blushing?”

Tom felt his cheek with his hand and looked down in embarrassment. “She’s my best friend, actually. And yes, we sleep together occasionally, but it’s casual. Nothing more than that.”

“You sleep together??” Evelyn and Lily squealed in unison. 

He blushed harder. “Okay, tone it down, ladies. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” Evelyn contested. “You’re best friends, you sleep together, and she makes you light up like a fucking christmas tree… You’re completely smitten!”

Tom shook his head. “Stop. I am not smitten. We’ve had an agreement to keep things casual and that’s what we’ve done.”

Lily’s face suddenly lit up in realization. “Wait! Is this the friend that’s coming to stay with you this week?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Casual, my ass!” Evelyn accused, pointing her finger in his face. “You are SO smitten!”

Tom hid his face in his hands, failing to hide his ears which were now bright red. “Okay, fine… Maybe a little.”

Evelyn and Lily both let out another squeal, this time reaching a pitch only dogs could hear. 

Tom was actually surprised himself. Maybe it was because he was a bit tipsy, but they just got him to admit something out loud that he’d never even admitted to himself before. 

Evelyn grabbed his arm rather aggressively. “You have to tell her!” 

Tom’s head shot up from the cover of his hands. “Absolutely not,” he protested. 

“Why not?” Lily asked.

“Are you mad? What if she doesn’t feel the same? Then it’s going to be awkward between us and I could lose my best friend!”

Evelyn looked at him like he was stupid. “She’s coming all the way from London to spend a whole week with you!” 

“Because she desperately needs a holiday, and the only reason she decided to take it was because I already arranged it!”

“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” Lily said, shaking her head. 

“I do, don’t I?” Tom groaned, returning his head to his hands. 

Evelyn rubbed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “Look, see how the week goes. If you detect any sign that maybe she has feelings for you too, tell her. If she doesn’t feel the same– which I find highly unlikely, by the way– at least you know, and then you can move on. And if she’s truly your best friend, then this little hiccup won’t matter!”

Tom sighed and then turned his head to look at her. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

He almost did it. He was going to tell you how he felt on the ride to the airport, but then you suddenly closed yourself off and told him not to come with you, saying you had to “get back to reality,” and it made him question everything he thought he felt between you the night before.

Despite Evelyn’s hopeful sentiment, however, you only seemed to pull away more and more after that. You stopped wearing his clothes, you were texting him less and less, you wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong, and now you just wanted to strictly be friends. He would no longer be able to kiss you, to hold you, to feel you in his arms while he slept, to wake up to your beautiful face. But he’d sacrifice all of that if it meant he wouldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly , @the-princess-of-loki , @princess-ofthe-pages , @darcylikesloki , @kikster606 , @foxherder , @simone818283 , @newtomofgods @christinebloodwrittings @tom-hlover , @lulubelle814 , @kingliam2019

[cutieln4]

made it all look painless, man am i the greatest? | LN4 fanfic

lando norris x oscar piastri (can be read as platonic or romantic)

a/n: hi guys! i wrote an actual lando fanfic like no OC or self-insert or anything, and i also cross-posted it on ao3. it's really angsty but has a good ending so make sure to read the warnings carefully! and as someone who's gone through this stuff, this is in no way romanticizing it. if you are struggling please reach out for help, my DMs are always open!

summary: After Lando's first win, things were supposed to get better. But it only gets so, so much worse.

WARNINGS: suicidal thoughts, self-harm, eating disorders, panic attacks, suicide attempt

After Miami, Lando thought that things would get easier. He was no longer "Lando Nowins." He had finally proved everyone wrong and got that win.

But then, the season continued. It became clear that the Mclaren was consistently challenging for wins. He almost won again in Imola, he missed out on a podium in Monaco due to a red flag, and an untimely safety car lost him the win in Canada.

And suddenly, everyone was trying to conjure up a championship fight out of nowhere.

In Spain, he took his first pole position of the season. Maybe things were starting to look up. Maybe Mclaren actually had a chance this year.

But then he had to go and ruin it just like he always does by fucking up the start, and Max beat him again. He tried to choke down his disappointment during media, unconsciously biting and picking at the skin around his fingernails as the interviewers picked apart his mistakes.

And then Austria happened. He was faster, but he couldn't pass Max. He tried over and over, making silly mistakes as his frustration built. But then, they made contact. He had to retire, yet Max still extended his lead by 10 points.

Lando's chest was tight and he felt like he couldn't breathe as he climbed out of the car. He relished in the pain of ripping the skin off his fingers as he gave his interviews.

He skipped his dinner that night, the pit in his stomach making him too nauseous to eat anything. He spent the whole debrief focusing on not hyperventilating.

When he got back to the hotel, he had a few of the drinks in the minibar, just to help him fall asleep. The numbness he felt almost made up for the pain from the day.

The next day, he texted Max and then went on a run until his legs and lungs nearly collapsed. The burning pain in his chest felt better than the nauseating lump in his stomach.

Silverstone was next, and he finally got to see his whole family, which made the anxiety melt a little.

But then, he fucked up again. That might have been his only opportunity to win his home race, and he fucked it up because he couldn't pick the right tire. It was just like Sochi all over again. He tried not to let the disappointment on his family's face affect him.

There was finally a little break after Silverstone where he could spend some time not thinking about racing. Yet somehow, every time he tried to relax, he couldn't stop thinking about his mistakes, and his nails dug into his skin.

Hungary was even worse. He had to give up a 6-second lead on the second-to-last lap just because he was too stubborn not to switch positions right after he undercut Oscar and race him later on. So stupid.

The radio messages from Will haunted him. You're going to need Oscar, and you're going to need the team.

Then why did he feel like they were never there for him?

He ruined Oscar's first win. He tainted it. He only has himself to blame when Oscar looks disheartened during the tense debrief, but he can't bring himself to apologize. He can't even bring himself to look at him. It's all Lando's fault.

They go out that night to celebrate, and although Lando wants nothing more than to lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone, he feels like he owes it to Oscar to be there.

He ends up taking way too many shots way too quickly, or maybe it's the fact that he hasn't eaten all day, but he's drunk out of his mind as he sits in the VIP booth Mclaren bought out.

The table is spinning in front of him, and the euphoric feeling that the alcohol brings is enough to distract himself from his self-deprecating thoughts. He startles when someone slides into the seat next to him.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asks him, eyes wide as he holds a half-empty drink.

Lando just nods, looking down to avoid eye contact. "Good job, today," he says numbly, but he hopes Oscar knows he's being sincere. It's silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry–"

"Why are you apologizing?" he cuts Oscar off harshly. "I'm the one that didn't let you pass when they told me to. I'm the one who fucked up the start and put us in the situation to begin with."

"I know, but–"

"But nothing. I fucked up everything just like always, and now I've ruined your first win. 'M not sure how you still tolerate being around me, but you should probably leave like everyone else before I ruin your life too."

He didn't mean to say all of that, but the words just kept coming out. And now Oscar is staring at him with a look of shock. He opens his mouth to say something, but Lando quickly stands up and pushes his way to the bathroom before he can.

Once Lando locks himself in one of the stalls, he immediately slides down the wall, head buried in his knees as his breathing quickens. He doesn't know he's crying until his tears are soaking his pants.

Painful whimpers leave his mouth as he scratches at his throat, willing to allow himself to breathe again. His nails rip into his skin, clawing down his throat and his arms.

He stays there until his breath returns and his arms are rubbed raw. Then, he gets up, orders more shots at the bar, closes out his tab, and calls an Uber to take him back to the hotel.

The shots just start kicking in as he stumbles into the backseat of the car. He feels himself going numb again, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He stares out the window the whole ride, trying not to throw up as the world spins.

Finally, he stumbled back to his hotel room and went into the bathroom, and he just stared at himself in the mirror. He's so fucking useless. Everyone hates him. And if they don't, they will eventually.

Lando considers punching the mirror in front of him and imagine that he's really punching his face, but instead, he flops onto his bed and hopes his hangover the next day isn't too bad.

He's off to Belgium the next morning. His mum told him his grandma was getting sicker and it sounded like she didn't have much longer left.

She passed just before the weekend started. Seeing his mum cry had been one of the most painful parts of it. He at least got to see her one more time before she left. But of course, it had to be right before the Belgian race.

Winning here would mean so much after what happened. He wanted to do this for her and his whole family. He couldn't let them down.

Max was also taking an engine penalty, so this weekend should've been a good opportunity to gain points on him in the championship.

Yet he could only manage 4th in qualifying, and the race went even worse. He was stuck behind Max for several laps, but he just couldn't get past.

6th. 6th in a "rocketship," as everyone liked to call it. Why did Mclaren even want him? He couldn't even finish in front of Max, who started way behind him.

He disappointed his family, he disappointed his team, he disappointed his fans, he disappointed everyone. He didn't even want to see what people were saying about him online. He already knew that he was a fraud, he didn't need others pointing it out as well.

He let Max Fewtrell drag him around during the summer break, and he spent the whole time dodging Max's worried glances and acting like he was having fun. The only time it was bearable was when they went out and he was several drinks deep, too drunk out of his mind to even think about racing and his failures.

Nearly every night he got blackout drunk. He didn't see the problem with it, but it raised red flags with his best friend.

"How are you doing, really?" Max asked him when they went out to lunch, just the two of them.

Lando wrinkled his nose, looking off to the side to avoid eye contact. "I'm fine."

Max sighed, seeing right through his bullshit. "Dude, come on."

"I don't know why everyone is acting like I'm falling apart! This is the first time I have a chance at the championship, I think it's only reasonable that I'm acting a little different," Lando replied, exasperated. He was sick of everyone acting like something was wrong with him.

"Right, because getting wasted every night is a healthy coping mechanism?"

Lando laughed, dryly. "I'm on fucking vacation. If you're going to talk about feelings and bullshit the whole time I might as well fucking leave!"

And with that, he dug some money out of his wallet, slapped it on the table, and left.

Another relationship he fucked up. Just like always.

He spends the rest of the summer break alone in Monaco.

He's lost more weight by the time he arrives at Zandvoort. Jon asks how he was eating over the break, and he insists that he's been following his meal plan.

He just can't eat. There's a churning in his stomach that makes him want to throw up at the thought of food.

Lando gets pole on Saturday. It should feel good, but it doesn't, he knows he's gonna lose the lead on the first lap anyway, just like what everyone says.

He beats Max by 23 seconds, but his face is stone-cold as he poses for the cameras. He still messed up the start, if it wasn't for his pace, Max would've won again.

The interviewers point out his mistakes, the team points out his mistakes, and everyone points out his mistakes. And now people are giving him death threats and calling him arrogant and egotistical because he said 2 words after the race.

He thinks about what would happen if he were gone, if he did what so many people said and removed himself from this world. Perhaps everything would be better that way. He scratches his arms until they're raw whilst he ponders it.

He makes it to Monza. He pulls off another pole and gets a ring for it. It's even a 1-2 with Oscar.

Max is starting in 7th, which means this could be another good opportunity to gain on him in the championship.

His start is good, he's actually leading through turn 1, but then Oscar gets him in the second chicane. It's a good overtake, Lando can't deny, but it gets him out of sorts and Charles passes him too.

Neither Oscar nor Lando ends up winning. What should've easily been a 1-2 turns into a disappointing 2-3.

Some sick part of him feels satisfied when Oscar looks dejected after the race, but he immediately scolds himself for it, guilt flooding him.

When he gets back to his hotel room, he can't help but scroll on social media, and he sees the interviews from Andrea.

"We're only concerned about the constructor's championship."

"The future is Oscar's."

Oh.

The team doesn't even believe in him anymore. They don't think Lando can win the championship. He's only a year and a half older than Oscar, but they're acting like Lando's nearing retirement.

His chest tightens as his breath hitches. He can't breathe. He opens his phone and his thumb hovers over Max Fewtrell's contact, but he throws his phone on the bed instead of calling him.

He's gasping for air as he stumbles to the bathroom, his whole body shaking. They don't believe in him. He's a failure.

Lando scratches at his arms but it's not enough. Tears start forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. He still can't breathe. Why can't he breathe?

He grabs his razor and smashes it with one of his hair product bottles. The blades separate and with trembling fingers, he grabs one and holds it to his arm.

He presses the razor into his skin, then slowly drags it across. The stinging pain is welcoming. It's a different kind of pain than just scratching at his arms. He watches as the blood beads up, and his lungs open up just a bit.

He keeps going a couple more times until his breathing is almost back to normal, and he just stares at the blood. It feels good. He deserves the pain after all his mistakes.

He stays there until the blood is dried, and then he eventually cleans it up and collapses in his bed. He feels guilty. He feels lonely. He still feels like he wants to die. All he does is squeeze his eyes shut and hope he falls asleep soon. He doesn't.

He's scared Jon will see, but he's also scared that Jon will say he deserves the pain for messing up so many times. He wears long sleeves and is extra careful.

Then, an unnecessary yellow flag in Baku causes him to get out in Q1. If he had any hopes of the championship, it just died. He's confident he'll get in the points, but he still needs to get ahead of Max, and even just one place ahead wouldn't be good enough.

Oscar wins, and Lando only got 4th because of Carlos and Checo crashing. He was in front of Max, though.

He's happy for Oscar, but he can't help but imagine what it would've been if he'd qualified near the front like he was supposed to.

At least Mclaren was leading the constructor's championship now.

Lando can't help but feel ashamed. His teammate, who's only in his 2nd year, has tied his number of wins again. How pathetic is that?

Things start looking up in Singapore. Lando is immediately quick, and he gets pole by a large margin. However, he's starting next to Max. He doesn't celebrate too soon.

But, he manages to keep the lead the entire race, leading by nearly 30 seconds at one point. He's pushing, though, and the heat starts getting to him. Maybe he should've eaten before the race, because his focus slips, and he almost goes into the wall because of a lockup. Will tells him to cool it and take a drink after that.

He's still making silly mistakes, even when he's all alone on the track.

He feels nothing when he crosses the chequered flag and the fireworks go off for him.

They have a month off, which Lando actually wouldn't prefer with the momentum they've been having. It gives him time to get his mind off racing, though.

Yet the whole time, he couldn't get rid of the ache and constant nervousness in his stomach. All he could think about was the stupid championship and the disappointment he would give people if he lost it.

When he got to Austin, he just prayed that they would be quick.

Instead, they were immediately struggling. It was extremely bumpy despite the track being resurfaced, and they didn't do well in those conditions.

The sprint wasn't great. His start was good, for once, making up several places in the first corner, but the pace wasn't there. In the end, he loses out to Carlos because of a stupid lockup, and he nearly gets done by Charles too. Max still extends his lead in the championship.

He curses himself for his mistakes. He doesn't eat until after qualifying later that day, but it must've helped because he managed to get pole.

The race is disappointing. He messes up turn 1, again. The car feels like shit, his back is killing him from the bumpy surface, and he's getting frustrated.

He catches up to Max and tries over and over again to pass him. But Max is a great defender, he knows exactly where to place the car, and it just frustrates him more.

Max pushes him off the track, but Lando finally gets ahead. Will tells him that he's being investigated, but that he was ahead at the apex. But the stewards tell him he wasn't, and the penalty takes him off the podium, putting Max ahead of him so he extends his lead again.

The team tries not to look disappointed in him, but he can see it clearly in their faces. Lando was sloppy and careless with his overtake. He's too nauseous to eat, and he cut his thighs that night while he was staving off a panic attack.

He should've just given the fucking place back. Part of him resents Will, he's the one who told him it was fine, after all. But in the end, Lando knows it is on him.

They arrive in Mexico and Jon is starting to notice. His weight loss is "concerning," as Jon puts it. But he doesn't understand that Lando just can't stomach any food. He's already a picky eater, anyway.

It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn't feel satisfied unless his stomach is cramping in pain and he feels empty, but light.

Jon also comments on how exhausted he looks, and Lando tells him he hasn't been sleeping well. It's not a lie, after all. Jon gets him prescribed some sleeping pills that are supposed to help. Lando doesn't take them.

Carlos and Ferrari have been dominating the whole weekend, and now there's pressure with the constructor's championship as well as the driver's.

Lando qualifies third. Max qualifies in front of him, even in a shit car. Lando should feel a little consolation considering his teammate got knocked out in Q1, but he can't help but feel useless.

On race day, Lando is battling with Max again, and he does everything in his power not to repeat Austria.

When Max completely pushes him off the track, all he feels is rage. A part of him feels betrayed, but most of all, he is frustrated. He knows his relationship with Max off-track is thrown out the window on track, but it hurts when his friend completely violates the rules just to mess up his race and possibly cause him to crash out.

His pace is rapid at the end of the race. He gets past Charles, but he can't catch Carlos. He thinks that maybe this was Max's plan all along.

But a day later, he and Max are talking normally again, and sometimes Lando hates himself for how easily he forgives people.

Mclaren was supposed to be quick in Brazil, and Max was taking another grid penalty. The pressure was high. The result of this weekend would either make or break his championship hopes.

During the sprint, Oscar lets him through at the end to let him win. He should be glad that he gained points on Max, but all he can feel is the guilt coursing through him.

Maybe everyone was right, he didn't deserve the championship if he had to get team orders. He cuts that night after qualifying is canceled.

He gets pole early Sunday morning and Max is starting 17th. He needs to win this one, otherwise, the championship will surely be over and he'll let the team down.

But the race quickly unfolds into a disaster. An untimely red flag means Max gets a free tire change and starts in P3 with just the Alpines in the way.

Lando can't turn at the restart. He goes straight and runs off the track, and the disaster of a race gets worse for him. He spends the rest of the laps focusing on not binning it in the wall.

It's a relief when he crosses the chequered flag.

The debrief is tense and the air is filled with disappointment. Lando can see it in everyone's faces. He spots Oscar giving him looks of pity. He wants nothing more than to have the ground swallow him up and take him away forever so he doesn't have to face anyone.

He quickly returns to his hotel, and he can't hold it in anymore. The nausea that has become permanent in his stomach is even worse, and he rushes to the toilet as he gags up spit and stomach acid from his empty stomach.

Tears prick his eyes but he wills them back, he cannot be weak right now.

Once he's in bed, he hesitantly looks at his phone. He has a text from Max Fewtrell, who he hadn't talked to since summer break. Lando knows he needs to apologize to his best friend, but it's just easier not having someone who will nag about his emotions or how he's coping.

He opens Twitter. He never should've re-downloaded it, but it was too late now. Immediately, he sees a clip from his interview in which he said that getting to change tires under a red flag is luck not talent.

However, people are changing it, not including the question that literally asked about the red flag. They think he's talking about Max's driving.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he opens the comments.

Arrogant, talentless, egotistical, worthless.

Kill yourself.

There are several death threats and people telling him to kill himself. All of this over a comment that was taken out of context.

A wet laugh bubbles up in his throat. As if he hadn't already thought about it, killing himself. It would be so easy. Especially with the sleeping pills that Jon got him.

But, he can't. He can't let the team down, he still has a constructor's championship to win. At least give them a little something as payback for all their hard work to give him an amazing car.

Lando scrolls until he can't take it anymore, and he throws his phone at the wall, a pained shout leaving his mouth. He bites his sleeve to keep himself from sobbing. He can't breathe. His chest is tight and it feels like his lungs have closed up.

He stumbles out of bed and gets to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and grabbing his razor. He resorts to cutting himself again to make the pain go away. He doesn't sleep that night.

Jon drags him out of bed and to the airport so he can go home. He's thankful, even though he'd rather lay in bed all day.

When he gets to Monaco, it's nighttime there. Lando goes straight to his apartment, not bothering to unpack, and curls up in his bed. He hasn't eaten or slept since the race, but he just can't. The thoughts consume him.

How can I be better? Why am I so useless? Why did I fail?

After 40 hours, he'd tired himself out enough to finally fall asleep, but he still couldn't stomach anything to eat. His ribs poke out now, but he doesn't care. He just can't.

Las Vegas passes in a flash. The media beforehand was exhausting, but it was an incredibly mediocre race from him. P6, but nearly 30 seconds away from Max who was in P5.

Max's P5 also seals the championship for him. It's a bittersweet feeling. Lando knew the championship was pretty much over after Brazil, but now that it was official, it kind of felt like some sort of relief.

But soon, it was replaced with pressure to get the constructor's championship after Ferrari outscored them.

When they arrive in Qatar, it is not nearly as hot as last year, thankfully.

He qualifies on pole for the sprint and Oscar is in P3. He decides right there that if the chance arises, he's letting Oscar win. He's sick of the guilt that's been eating him up ever since that Saturday in Brazil. Oscar deserves it as well, after everything he's done this year to try to help.

The sprint goes as planned with Lando letting Oscar by right at the end, finishing 1-2. But when it comes to qualifying, they only manage 3-4. It's ahead of the Ferraris, though.

There's a knock on his driver's room door as he's packing up at the end of the day.

"Come in!"

Oscar peeks his head in, then lets himself in and closes the door behind him.

"Hey mate, what's up?" Lando asks him, stuffing a shirt into his backpack.

"Hey, um, thanks for earlier, during the sprint. I really appreciated that."

"No worries, it's the least I could do."

Oscar hesitates. "Um, I actually wanted to, uh, check up on you. We haven't really talked in a while and, well, you just seem a little distant lately. I just wanted to ask if you're okay? I understand if I'm overstepping here, but I've just been a little worried."

Lando averts eye contact. "Oh. I...I'm okay," he replies, digging his fingernails into his palms until it stings. "Just a lot of pressure with the season, y'know? I appreciate you for asking, though. Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. Well, I'm here if you ever want to talk, yeah?"

Lando looks at him, trying to find ulterior motives but only finding sincerity. "Yeah, the same applies with me, mate. Thanks."

With that, Oscars nods, says goodbye, then walks out the door. The conversation leaves Lando standing in his driver's room zoning out at the wall, contemplating what Oscar said to him.

The race is hectic, but once they get going again after all the yellow flags and the debris from the mirror getting picked up, Lando is right on the tail of Max, hoping to find a gap to squeeze through.

"We have a 10-second stop-and-go penalty," Will tells him on the radio suddenly.

Lando's heart stutters. What? A stop-and-go penalty? Everyone's bunched up after the safety car, he's gonna end up last.

"For what?" he asks, still stunned.

"Failing to slow under the yellow flags. We will serve the penalty this lap."

Lando doesn't respond. He's trying to rack through his brain to think of when that could be, but he can't come up with anything. He didn't see a yellow flag that he didn't slow for, and Will didn't tell him anything either.

His body is tense, partly with anger at the harsh penalty and partly with disappointment at himself.

"I'm sorry," he says after he crosses the chequered flag in P10.

He's met with silence, but that speaks for itself.

The debrief is tense. Everyone knows that the constructor's championship is on the line, and everyone is disappointed in him for potentially fucking up all their hard work. Oscar pats his back, but Lando knows he's just as disappointed.

He stays afterward and watches the onboard over and over again while ripping the skin off his fingers. There's no light on his dash, the lights on the side aren't lit up, there's only marshals waving barely visible flags while he's going 200 mph down the straight.

He watches Max's onboard. His engineer warns him about the yellow flags. He watches everyone else's onboards and their engineers warn them about the yellow flags. But Will didn't warn him, in fact, he told him to go even faster to catch up to Max.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, then he shuts the computer off and rushes to his driver's room to get his stuff. He feels like he's going to explode with anger.

He slams the door shut and punches the wall. The walls are sturdy enough so they don't break, but Lando's hand is aching and it feels good. He does it again.

He feels his breathing quicken as tears well up in his eyes. His legs give out on him as he collapses to the floor, curling up into a ball as he cries into his knees. Painful, distressed whimpers leave his mouth as he sobs uncontrollably.

Between the crying and the panic attack, he can't breathe, and that only makes him panic more, his chest heaving as he desperately tries to get air in his lungs.

His door opens abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Oscar rush in and kneel in front of him.

"Lando, it's okay! Shh, it's okay, please calm down. You need to breathe."

Oscar is looking at him with wide eyes, unsettled from seeing his normally strong teammate like this. Lando looks back at him with desperation, urgently trying to stop his crying.

When more of Oscar's pleas don't work, he hesitantly wraps his arms around Lando, letting Lando collapse into him as he cries.

It takes a few minutes for Lando to stop crying. When he does, he pushes out of Oscar's arms, scrambling to get up.

"I, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have seen me like that," Lando rambles on as he scratches at his wrist.

"It's okay. Do you want to, um, talk about it?" Oscar asks as he pushes himself off the floor, but he doesn't seem sure of it and Lando finds himself doubting the sincerity of the offer.

"No! No, no, I'm fine. Just the stupid penalty, s'all. I'm fine," he insists, mustering up a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

Oscar looks conflicted, but eventually, he nods. "Um, okay. Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

It's the second time Oscar has offered to talk within two days, and Lando curses himself for losing it like he did a few minutes ago. He needs to keep it together.

They're immediately off to Abu Dhabi the next day. Oscar doesn't bring up what happened but he keeps giving concerned glances toward Lando. Lando just really fucking hopes that they can pull off the constructors championship.

The weekend starts well. Charles will be starting P19 and they qualified 1-2 with Carlos behind them. All they needed was to hopefully maintain the 1-2 through turn 1, then it should be smooth sailing.

But, nothing is smooth sailing in Formula 1, and Oscar gets spun around by Max at turn 1, dropping him all the way to last. Then to top it all off, he gets a 10-second penalty for a separate incident.

So, the weight of the world rests on Lando's shoulders. No pressure at all.

But, Lando stays in the lead the whole race, driving flawlessly until he crosses the chequered flag after 58 laps. It feels like he can actually breathe for the first time in a very long time. He raises his fists to the sky as the fireworks explode for him and his team. He lets his head tilt back as he sighs in relief

The team is so ecstatic, and that manages to put on smile on his face. He and Oscar sip champagne together, bottles raised towards the night sky as their team surrounds them. For Lando, it's perfect. Just one perfect moment of satisfaction.

On his way back to Monaco, he makes a stop in England. He spends a day with his family, and then the next day he goes over to Max Fewtrell's apartment to see him.

"Hey," Lando simply says when Max opens the door to his apartment.

Max stares at him with a slight look of shock before letting him in. Lando greets Max's girlfriend, Pietra, who then excuses herself to Max and her's room, almost as if she knew him and Max were talking about something serious.

"Where have you been, mate? You haven't answered any of my texts," Max says.

"I know, I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for my outburst during summer break."

"I just wish you'd tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine, really. Jon has it all handled. He knows I've been going through some shit this year. I'm...getting better, I'll be better." The lie feels sour on his tongue, but it's for the better.

They catch up a bit, and Lando hugs him extra tight when he leaves.

When Lando gets back to Monaco, he gets his affairs in order, he cleans his apartment, and then he writes his letters. He writes one for each of his family members, Max F, Jon, and Oscar.

He puts the letters in a neat pile on his counter, then he grabs a bottle of vodka, drinking straight from the bottle as he heads to his bedroom.

He lays on top of the covers in bed, so there will be no hassle for whoever finds him.

He grabs the prescribed sleeping pills and starts swallowing whatever is left of them in groups of 5 or 6, washing it down with the vodka.

He gags as he struggles to swallow, but he pushes it down. He can feel himself getting more drowsy, and the vodka bottle bangs against his nightstand as he sets it down.

As his eyes close, there's only one thing Lando is feeling; peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

After Lando visited Max, Max had a feeling that something was off. He knew Lando was having a tough time, and there was just a feeling in his stomach that gnawed at him.

Eventually, he picked up his phone and made a call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Oscar, it's Max Fewtrell. Um, sorry, I know we haven't talked in a while, but, you live in Monaco, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Okay, I have a really big favor to ask, and feel free to say no, but I was wondering if there was any way you could go over to Lando's and check up on him? He just seemed really off when I saw him the other day."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I'll go, it's no problem."

"Great, thank you so much! If he doesn't answer, his spare key is in the plant next to his door."

"Okay, I'll text you after."

Oscar had an unsettled feeling in his stomach as he made the short walk over to Lando's apartment complex.

He knocked on the door a couple of times and waited, but there was no answer. Maybe he was just out, Oscar tried to reason as he dug through the plant beside the door in search of the key.

With a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Lando?" he called out, taking a look around.

The place was spotless. Nothing was lying around, the tables and counters were clear of everything besides a small pile of letters. Stepping closer, he rummaged through to find that they were all labeled with names, including his.

The blood drained from Oscar's face, a cold chill running down his spine as he realized what this meant.

"Lando!" he called more urgently, running through the apartment trying to find him.

He stopped at the bathroom, but he wasn't there. Then he spotted it, the bedroom door was closed.

Without thinking, Oscar slammed the door open, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight. Lando was lying on top of his covers, eyes closed. Next to him was a bottle of pills and a bottle of vodka. Quickly, Oscar rushed to his side.

"Lando! Lando, wake up! Please, wake up!" he pleaded as he shook the man, but he was unresponsive.

With violently trembling hands, he pulled out his phone to dial emergency services.

"What is your emergency?"

"Help, please! My friend overdosed, and he won't wake up!"

He quickly told the operator the address.

"Is he breathing?"

Oscar held his own breath as he leaned down to listen to Lando, a sigh escaping as he heard slow, weak breaths coming from the man, which he reported to the operator. Then, remembering his medical training, he took the man's thin wrist, taking his pulse. It was also slow, which he told the operator.

"Okay, emergency services will be there in about 2 minutes, are you alright if I hang up?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied offhandedly, full focus on Lando.

Oscar put his phone back in his pocket and picked up the pill bottle. He didn't recognize the medication name, but the instructions implied that they were sleeping pills. The bottle was empty.

"Please, please, please, Lando. Please be okay," he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks as guilt started eating at him.

He knew something was wrong, he should've seen the signs earlier. He could've stopped this.

He kept his eyes on Lando the whole time until the paramedics showed up.

Everything felt like a blur, and suddenly he was in the waiting room, head in his hands.

Fuck, he had to tell Max and his family.

Hands still trembling, he got his phone out. He had Adam's number, and with sweaty palms, he dialed it.

"Oscar?"

"Hey, um, I, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but something happened to Lando. He tried to, to kill himself."

It was silent for a moment. "What?" Adam replied, voice sounding heartbroken and watery.

"He overdosed. He's stable, though, we're at the hospital in Monaco."

"We'll be there right away," Adam replied, voice cracking before he hung up.

He didn't want to know what Cisca's reaction would be.

One down.

Next, he called Max F.

"What's wrong?" Max immediately asked, knowing Oscar would've just texted if everything was okay.

"Lando um, he overdosed," he said, the words not getting any easier the more he said them.

Max inhaled sharply. "What? Is, is he okay?"

"We're at the hospital. He was alive, but I don't know anything else. His family's on his way, you could see if you could come with them."

"Yeah, I will. Oscar, thank you. I can't–" his voice broke off with a sob. "I can't imagine what would've happened if you hadn't checked up on him."

Oscar didn't want to imagine that either.

"You were the one who knew something was wrong," he replied.

"Still, thank you," Max said, then hung up.

After that, everything went silent. Oscar was still shaking.

It felt like hours until the nurse finally came out to talk to him, and he was still shaking then, too.

"Oscar, right? You're listed as his emergency contact, so you can come see him," the nurse told him, as he quickly scampered up to follow her.

They stepped into Lando's room, and Oscar felt the air leave his lungs. Lando was sleeping, wires connected to his body all over. He looked weak and vulnerable, it made Oscar's heart break.

"The EMTs administered the antidote to reverse the effects of the overdose and the doctor had to pump his stomach as well. But right now, he is stable, and recovery looks good. He should be awake soon, you can press the button if you need anything if you need anything."

With that, the nurse left. Oscar was zoning out the whole time while staring at Lando, so he knew they'd need to repeat that to his parents. When the door closed, he finally snapped out of it and took a hesitant seat next to the bed.

He took in Lando's appearance now that he was closer.

He was pale, so unusual compared to his dark tan. Wires disappeared under his hospital gown. An IV was inserted in his forearm, tape covering the area, holding it down.

The pit in Oscar's stomach grew as he raked his eyes further down Lando's arm. His breathing halted when he saw the scars on Lando's wrist. There was no mistaking that Lando did that to himself, and the thought brings tears to his eyes. He never knew Lando was struggling so much.

He scoots closer to the bed, not taking his eyes off Lando. It's not long until Lando's eyelids are fluttering and a quiet groan leaves his mouth.

"Osc?" Lando asks, voice hoarse, likely from the tube they had to stick down his throat while they pumped his stomach.

"Hey, I'm here, you're okay. Your family is on their way," he reassures, unconsciously grabbing the older man's hand.

"What–how did you find me?"

"Max called, he was worried about you, so I–I stopped by. You, you were barely breathing," Oscar breaks off with a sob, a tear finally falling. "I thought I was gonna lose you," he whispered.

"Oh, Osc," Lando's own eyes well up with tears, and his grip on Oscar's hand tightens. "I'm–I'm so sorry. Nobody was meant to find me," he said, looking down.

"Well I'm fucking glad I did, you would've been fucking dead if Max hadn't called," his voice cracks as more tears escape his eyes. "Why...why did you do it?"

It was silent for a moment. "I didn't want to keep letting everyone down," Lando whispered, voice barely audible. "I thought it would just be better if...if I was gone."

"Fuck, Lan, you know that's not true, right? You mean so much to so many people, you don't even know it. We've all been so worried about you because we care about you. Your family, Max, the rest of the grid, me. I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here anymore. The world is a better place because you're a part of it."

And that seemed to be the breaking point for Lando because he then broke down in sobs.

"I'm, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he weeps, making Oscar's heart ache.

Oscar lowers the side guard and squeezes into the bed next to Lando, wrapping his arms around him while the older cries into his chest. Oscar rubs his back, whispering reassurances into his ear. It takes a while until he calms down.

"Just, promise me that you'll get better, that you'll get help. And talk to someone the next time you are struggling so badly. Me, Jon, your family, anyone. Just, please, don't do this again."

"I promise," Lando whispers back. And he means it.

[hollyhomburg]

Please don’t take this the wrong way but I just read your reply about your family I do not like them strangers who I clearly don’t know. I honestly wish they get beaten with a cactus. To sit there and not do anything , even when the bare minimum, is just being complicit in the abuse. Like if they don’t see it as a big deal, then the police won’t either. It is not fair to you and you shouldn’t have gone through that and your sister??? Well I’ll just keep those comments to myself but still, it’s wrong

it was kinda one of the things i tried to touch on in bily, and in general with the story of 'every betrayal is forgivable if you're not willing to lose the person' and i had to sit down with myself at a very young age and ask if i was ready not to have anyone, to not have a mom or a brother or sister. because either i can forgive them and have them in my life, or not forgive them and be alone. i'm not willing to be completely alone, even if it was wrong, even if i should be angry.

i think i'm reaching a point in my life where i might be able to deal with the last of my anger, because i do still resent them sometimes and it's complicated. i definitely am ready to cut my sister off entirely and i almost sent her a text the other day to ask her not to reach out to me and give me a wide berth until after her wedding.

like- maybe it would be different if they weren't so loving and understanding. like- they never shame me or shout at me. my brother for all his faults is constantly like "if you need to quit your job and move out to sf to work on your writing i'd support you until you got your book off the ground." And he's repeated it enough times that i believe him when he says that. He might not always be on my side but he does know how to show he loves me and support me.

and My mom quite literally let me rot on her couch for 2 years when i was the most depressed i've ever been and like...was not functioning. did she get me therapy and help? no. did she make it worse by ever badgering me to lose weight, get a car, get a job, or get a life? also no. she never said anything about it to me at all. She kept me fed and healthy and off the street and at least made sure i never felt pressured to push myself when i couldn't. We also didn't have the money for me to go to therapy at the time so, it wasn't really possible.

my mom and brother are at least understanding of my capabilities, they don't ask me 'why can't you do xyz like a normal person' because they understand at least on some level that the abuse made me non-functioning and that i'm not behind because i chose to be. They don't completely ignore it in that way. At least not the way that my older sister does because natalie does say that kind of thing to me in private.

It's a very complicated situation. but i get at peace with it more every day just because i'm tired of being angry and sad about it all the time. i'm tired of resenting everyone. i will not continue to allow disrespect but i'm also going to do my best not going to dwell on the violence that's already passed.

[motsimages]

This reply has 2 parts. One for Op and another for anyone in a similar position who wants ideas on how to deal with it.

For Op: do not ever open the door to "what if it's me?" because it's not you. I took a glance at that door once, and my self-esteem is worth more. Some people just don't know how to keep friendships. Some people have things going on in their life ("me too, so what" shhhh). It hurts, but it's still not about people not wanting your presence, it's about them having life getting in their way. They will think about you and miss you, they just won't let you know about it. It's a pain in the ass, though and it makes me mad and sad, so I get you. In any case, it's not that they don't want your presence, it's that their life is doing things to them. "But my life doesn't get in the way of me making plans with them" and that says a lot about you and how you deal with your relationships, but it doesn't say they don't like you. Do not open the door to lowering your self-esteem or doubting yourself in any way. It's them and their life.

For anyone looking for ideas:

I have been in that position, and I still am. I came to realise, at age 34 or so, that there are a lot of things at play. One of them is not only me wanting to hang out with my friends (specifically), but also needing a social life, needing a way to fulfill my interests, doing things with people.

If people who I consider my friends do not make any effort (this means "I make 10 plans and they only make 1", for instance, I do not really keep track but you get the idea), the friendship will end. And it will end whether I want to or not. A relationship is a 2 people job, and I cannot be the one pulling all the weight just to have some company. This is hard to accept and it hurts. It helped me to think that there are other people that maybe wanted to hang out with me more but couldn't because I never spoke to them because I was busy with friends who wouldn't make plans with me, I could try my luck there.

Very often those people DO want to be my friend and to be in my life and all that: they just don't know how to*. In the meantime, I will find other people to spend time with and make friends with, and we'll see what happens. Those who want to stay and know how to do it will be there. I will call the others whenever I miss them, whenever I think of an specific plan with them, but I won't do my most socialising with them in mind.

So at some point, I prepared for "having a social life" but not "being the one making plans". Whenever I'd like to see my friends, I'd say "I am doing this thing, if you want to join me", but for most of my social life, I decided I was tired of being the organiser. I need the plan to already exist.

[A thing to keep in mind about me is: I am very used to doing things alone and I do not struggle to do things on my own. If you do struggle with this, I recommend you find a way to get used to being on your own and doing things alone, not only for the purpose of this advice, but in general in life. I can try to offer advice for this, but I may not be the best because it comes naturally to me. Message me if you want and we'll figure it out.]

So I looked for things I liked to do. I took up Portuguese, and Yoga, and painting. I spent months preparing myself mentally to not see my friends as often, because I knew it would happen. I knew it would be lonely but having plans already organised with people would aliviate it. This is very hard, and if your friends are your main support, it will be very very hard.

After some time, I told the friends I made plans with (during a boardgame night I had yet again organised): "I am tired of being the one making plans. If you make any plan and you want to invite me, I will say yes, whatever you propose, I will accept. But I won't be the one calling you because I am always the one doing it". One of the friends agreed with me. She made more efforts than the others.

During all this time, I learnt to embrace and enjoy small talk and any and all types of socialisation I could get. I made some friends along the way too because I remembered some nice people I had met that I could try to see if we could become friends. I still get angry that some of my friends don't make plans with me.

Regarding that group, I know some of the others were going through stuff, but so was I. That is a thing to keep in mind. I understand other people's lives and situations, but I have mine too. Specifically, during those years, I was severely disabled, couldn't really walk and was in great pain daily. I could keep in mind someone had anxiety, but they couldn't keep in mind I couldn't walk? I wished and still wish other people remembered that as cheerful and organised as I am, I still have problems, but well. That is for them to do.

So I went from seeing some of those friends weekly to monthly, and sometimes even less. With one friend I mainly lost contact for over a year (again, I knew he was going through stuff, but so was I and he never knew because he never asked). I was really mad at him, I even told him, he said he understood why. Still several months went by before he could get back to texting me sometimes. We are more or less in touch now, he managed to more or less came out of his shell a bit and I am very easygoing, so I made peace.

But I am now very clear that 2 people have to make the effort. Even if I make the effort 20 times and you only make it 1, you have to make it 1.

*I remember a friend who never ever proposes plans and never ever is the one to initiate contact saying "but I don't want to bother you!" as an explanation for why he never ever did those things. And it pissed me off. Do be a bother. Really. Bother me. You feel like you are nagging but you really aren't. Check your messages if you need a reminder because if you are like him, you will see a hundred messages from me and none from you. So really, bother me on purpose and make plans with me.

is anyone else always the one doing the reaching out to try and make plans with friends/inviting people to do things?

does anyone else in that position wonder if they should just stay in their room all day whenever they're off work, because it doesn't really matter, because it's not like anyone wants their presence anyway?

[blahblahblah2cargarage]

dude perry the platypus is such a funny character to me because like. i’ll be thinking abt him and be like oh he’s just like an adult man he has a government job and he loves his family and he has a weird homoerotic relationship with his nemesis and he’s nonverbal. just an overall normal guy character. i love him im going to read 7000 fics about him now. but then i take a step back and im like. he’s a platypus. i’m going crazy over a teal cartoon platypus. what am i doing. but then i take another step back and im like oh shiiiiitt. he’s a platypus. what kind of experiments were they doing on him to make him evolve the way he has? what kind of training did he go through? man this guy has some trauma he’s a lil fucked up actually! and then i take ANOTHER step back and im like. this is literally about a phineas and ferb character

[buttercupshands]

*looking at isat ss discord* my power of being silly got out of control

or how I tried understanding rpg maker basics by literally trying to do one (1) thing I really wanted to see ever since seeing Loop unused sprites lying on wiki months ago

the reason I mentioned isat ss discord was simply bc guys were the first people who saw me trying to draw close to pixel sprite face sprite for Loop to,,, do something at some point just to see how it works

and nope I'm not making this into anything, but I really like the fact that I managed to do this

(now with video post edited into this sentence!)

[lycandrophile]

do you actually view nonbinary people as non-binary or as binary people too scared to come out

this is a wild thing to ask someone who’s very openly not binary. like what even prompted you to send this? even if you didn’t know that i’m not binary trans, what have i said that would lead you to think i don’t believe in nonbinary people? is it just the fact that i’m a trans man and talk about being one on here? because sometimes it really feels like that’s all it takes for some of y’all to just assume i hate nonbinary people, as if those are mutually exclusive categories (which is ironically an exorsexist assumption in itself).

anyway, if it needed to be said, of course i view nonbinary people as nonbinary. it would be very silly of me to feel differently given that i’m not a binary trans person myself and that most of the trans people i’m close to in real life are nonbinary. i would strongly encourage you to ask yourself what it is about me that made you feel the need to ask me this in the first place.

[riddlerosehearts]

i am so tired of seeing this screenshot about wish's ending reposted everywhere and used to make fun of the movie:

and this is coming from someone who didn't even like the movie very much, but this is misrepresenting what happened. yes, there is a thing where asha wears a cloak resembling that of the fairy godmother and at the end star makes her a magic wand and the kids say she's like a fairy godmother, king magnifico does get trapped in a mirror, etc, and the movie was absolutely filled with easter eggs and references to previous movies--yep, when i saw the movie i did in fact take these scenes as just easter eggs! after all, think about this logically, if all currently existing movies in the disney animated canon were meant to take place in the same universe, and asha canonically grows up to be cinderella's fairy godmother, then...

how can you explain such a drastic difference in appearance? how can you justify asha, a brown-skinned afro-hispanic girl with a face full of freckles and long brown hair, and this old white woman being the same person? you can't, because they're not!!!! if i recall correctly asha doesn't even wear that cloak at the end when they're calling her a fairy godmother, she just wears it during one scene when she's a fugitive and has to sneak around. also...

the creators of the movie have directly confirmed that they were not trying to set up a disney multiverse and that it's not meant to be taken that seriously. rapunzel and eugene's cameo in frozen also wasn't meant to be taken anywhere near as seriously as everyone took it. neither were any previous cameos like belle in hunchback of notre dame or aurora in oliver and company (and if aurora being in oliver and company was canon, she'd be over 600 years old!). and, back to wish specifically, the little easter egg earlier in the movie where magnifico sees a wish bubble from someone who wants the perfect nanny to take care of their kids and says he's "poppin' that one" also doesn't mean the banks family from mary poppins canonically lives in rosas. the scene at the end where a boy named peter who wears all green and dreams of creating a flying machine goes to work with a girl in a blue nightgown whose wish is to fly doesn't mean peter pan and wendy actually somehow lived together in rosas and knew each other before the movie peter pan ever happened. it is literally impossible for all of these movies to take place in the same time period and universe, so it's a good thing that they, uh, don't, and were never intended to. please, if you don't like the movie, that's perfectly fine, but don't say disney is trying to create some convoluted multiverse and "MCU-ify" their movies when that just literally isn't true.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

y'all ever think about how j.oongi wears eyeliner 😳 I do. A lot haha.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner